Anti-Hero
09-25-2015, 02:25 AM
A place where I will post characters from different rps to edit them separately. I will most likely also use this as a place to store future rp ideas.
Rating Reasons
1. It's being ran by Average Hero
2. The Bio is a written Suicide
3. Blood and Gore
4. Occultish Mystery
5. Human Sacrifice
6. Violence
7. Explicit Romance (Within rules of RPA)
8. Murder
9. Tune is joining
10. Do I really need more reasons other than umber 1?
http://i61.tinypic.com/4gkdup.jpg
"Monsters are real, ghosts are real, they all live inside of us....and sometimes? They win."
TwIsTeD iC (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=56318)
Do not post until your CS has been approved and you've been added to the accepted list
The Story
“For so long, I, what humans have called a God, have kept the stars aligned. I reached with my never-ending grasp, to take hold of the chaos in this universe, and turn it to balance. They’ve given me names. Allah, God, Father of Time, Odin, Zeus, and so many more that have preceded even the eldest of words. I have always been, and I will always be.”
The scales are such a fickle thing, an addendum to the clock that ticks and tocks, counting every linear second. Provided by the powers that be, a God was born to oversee the chaos of a burning galaxy. What he found, was utter damnation. Burning worlds, pieces of what once had existed, had been leveled into nothing more than ground up chips. That was their history before balance. They didn’t have names, or kinds, or materials, they knew only one thing.
Power.
Power, was focused into magics and sciences, and that birthed the beginning and the end. The Alpha and the Omega. There was no saving history, it needed to burn, and it needed to be soaked in oils, lit flame, and washed away, dispersed in the oceans. The sands of time flowed ever so forward, and as the world crumbled, and began to die away into history, a cold grasp embraced those that lived. There were the last of those who’d held their stance. They looked to the skies as the fire reigned, and against the oncoming condemnation they brandished sword and shield and let out a battle cry that could shatter the heavens. It was in that moment, The God that watched over them found potential hiding within them, deep down in a shadow of themselves, in that moment he revealed himself and raised a shield about them.
“For you, who knows death, I beckon to you, not as a God, but as one who seeks balance, be my limbs, do what I cannot and touch this physical world, follow me, and we will bring balance, so that peace may let you sleep forever.”
That day, didn’t bring forth a world from ruin, at least not in mere moments. Not even a God can accomplish such a feat. However, with time, with hardship, and ties unsevered, those that had received a “gift” from The God had broken themselves for the entirety of a new world, and upon the day that their fruits of labor gave birth, they faded into inexistence, to sleep forever.
Many millennia later,
Death, or so The God had come to call himself, watched over the world keeping his word to those who’d sacrificed themselves to bring forth balance with such keen eyes that never fell blind to a change. As he watched, he’d noticed, but had left words unspoken as the balance was steadily being shifted from his grasp, pulling away his powers over the dimension. Even at his prime, he was not entitled to interaction with the physical world beneath him, and in that restraint he felt himself weakening, day by day, year, by passing year. Though, he was not blind to the change, he was however blind to the cause, as if it had rendered itself invisible to his eye. Someone, something, was opposing balance, opposing the natural order. The living, the dead, the unborn, they were not existing as they should; mistakes were being made, forced by an outside hand. Should Death stand for this, the promise he’d made those many millennia ago would shatter and those that had been taken from this world, would sleep in vain. He had no choice, intervention was necessary. So, he began searching through the mortal realm.
As before, as it had always been, Death could not appropriately interact within the physical world, especially not in this instance. He would need pawns, those who would work for him, be it forced, or willing. The world however had changed, it was in this Death had found it far more difficult to find suitable candidates. He could only summon those who’d faced death, and condemned themselves. In this era, there were no wars, or knights and soldiers facing down massive forces, there were; High school students, businessmen, stay-at-home mothers, congressmen, lawyers, military personnel. Those kinds, short of a few never faced death, not in the same sense, he would have to approach this in a new way, a way that forced those he needed to become what he needed. So many didn't even believe he existed, so many reveled in a false deity, and others, didn’t care. He knew the following; I can summon those, who have faced death, faced me.
In his moments of contemplation, he found the answer, as he watched the mortals defy his whims, by committing the ultimate sin against him. Suicide.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Growth and Power
As one takes their life, they commit ultimate sin, but even more apparent to the person is that, in a single moment before death, you are faced with yourself. What do you fear? Why are you ashamed? What controls you? What part of you harbors a disease that is no less a part of you than anything else? In death, you are faced with these questions, and in that single moment you must answer these questions and apprehend a part of you that was lost, the part that stands against yourself, and accepts that you are as much monster as you are man. This is how Death summons you. There is a sense within us all that strives for survival, none of us can escape that, it’s a matter of which piece of you has the strength to go on.
Power is not something we are born with, but something many of us obtain. How do we obtain a power that enhances us physically, and bestows upon us the understanding of magic? We grow. As you are pulled from the darkness of your sins you will be given an ultimatum.
“You will serve me for atonement, but you will not go hindered as you are now, I shall awaken what lies dormant within you...It is yourself that will create your new strength, and it is those around you that will nurture that strength into its final state.”
What power will be brought forth from your soul? With power, shall be brought forth what you fear most, strength begets weakness, but weakness brings need to grow.
The World
Where are you from? Can you even recall your former self? Do you remember what the air smelled like? How the salt tasted on your lips? What of the fresh feeling of wind blowing against your face, or the sun bearing down on your shoulders?
Its time I remind you, remind you that our world only exists without pyres scorching the skyline, because of a balance, a balance to avoid all chaos.
The city skyline in some ways clasps hands with the sky, and in others is what is left on the bottom of the world’s boot. A density of humanity falls within the confines of massive mega-cities, but few and far between these debatable eyes sores, are dots along the greens of hard-working towns. Some see cities as blight, others see towns as nothing, but both are important. No matter how large or small, everything has a place in this world, our world. Have you seen the New York skyline? It is gorgeous in the eyes of its own artists. What of the Amazons in the South Americas? The beauty of tree top canopies and dug out tunnels.
Then, there is the virtual world, a home away from home for so many. It is a vast existence of information, whether for work, or fun, it has everything. What we can’t find in the realm of the living, we find behind message boards and video games.
Then, there is one other place…but that’s a mystery. Care to find out the answers?
1. The bio for player’s characters will be that character’s suicide. Yes, in your bio your character will die. Be detailed, be morbid, but keep it out of some ridiculous horror movie. I would prefer not to see things like people throwing themselves into meat grinders.
2. There will be important narrative posts that must be read by players. These posts will be labeled “Death”. They will do several things, including give powers, acknowledge growth, and further the storyline.
3. I will be giving out powers based entirely on character development. This will not be randomized, but rather a fitting power. If you don’t like your power, than I apologize ahead of time.
4. I will likely select a Co-gm at some point who will help me decide what to do with characters and growth.
5. Players are allowed 3 characters maximum. I am giving you the option to make three, this way you might get a few different powers. This will also entail a portion of deaths of characters. Example: You build 3 characters, you hate the power 2 were given, then at the point powers were obtained, you can disavow Death, attempt to fight other players or just die.
6. Characters are half immortal. In the sense they very much so can die, or be ripped from the dimension and be forced to fight alone. However, it may also be possible that other players can bring about revival.
7. Every power has a weakness, and enemies look to exploit weakness.
8. Time period is Modern-Futuristic. Basically, most all things are set in our modern age but you might see a world more adapted to the future. Schools will be more specifically designed for students, computers are more advanced, militarized societies can exist, as well fashion will be more dynamic.
9. Finally, a gift to players. As characters develop, and they may develop at different rates, I will gift to you as the GM and Death, more power, and evolution.
Extra Rules
1. If you wish to play more than two characters PM Average Hero.
2. Tune is the goto in my absence. She is effectively my Co-gm.
3. Don't be afraid to ask us stuff, even if its planning ahead, or if you have concerns about anything.
You CS will not be written like a normal CS rather more a roleplay post, there are rules however.
1. Your CS is based on your Character’s suicide
2. Your CS will have personal history, though you may leave some mystery, the important part would be the history roughly 6 months to 1 year prior.
3. Your CS will have a description of your appearance to some extent
4. Your CS will include a photograph, no anime. CG is ok.
5. Your CS will include your name, and gender. Gender can be specified by saying “he or she”
Seig Virelius
http://i61.tinypic.com/w99vfs.jpg
The trigger felt slimy and cold in his hands. Try as he might the barrel wouldn’t hold steady, sweaty palms were to blame for that. Dry lips and heavy breathing had been so common for the past few hours that he felt as if he might die of thirst before he could muster the courage to enforce just enough pressure to make the hammer kick and lead him unto darkness and silence. He curled himself tightly together and sobbed, rolling on his tail bone hitting his back and head against the wall.
“Why, why…why…why the fuck can’t this just be easier?” Calls of mercy echoed through the quiet room of an empty parking garage, though it did accommodate his beat up old Mitsubishi.
“Why? Why?! Why?!!” Steadily the words ceased being questions and took on what sounded like demands, it was hard to describe, but the sense about it was, overpowering, and intimidating, like a man sinking into utter despair and mixing finally with madness. White palms pressed against his pale forehead and sweaty brown bangs as he rolled forward on his knees letting the firearm slide noisily across the concrete. All at once his head popped up while his fist slammed against sediment and tore open at his knuckles, blood immediately leaving droplets on the ground as the punishment continued.
“Fuck you, fuck your job, fuck your world, fuck your house, fuck whatever you stand for…How can you do this, how can you just…how can you just, how can you do this and justify everything you said you believed in? You took everything from me! My home! My job! My family!” There was a pause, long and quiet as he slid back and held the gun once more against his forehead, making a point to himself to part his bangs and feel the steel pressed against the wrinkles on his brow. “Even my family left me…” HE was quiet once more, as if beginning to find acceptance in his memories.
They had once been happy, they had once be laughing, and it as sudden. She looked him in the eyes and accused him of cheating, of betraying her. He didn’t know how to respond, his words lacked any consolation, she had given up on him already, there wasn’t much he could do, but even still he denied it. Standing across from her he reveled in what he knew to be true, she produce a photo of him standing with another woman, but how could she? He hadn’t been! There had been no other woman. They stood opposite form him, her, his mother, his father, and the quiet man in the back who took her hand, and only smiled. Who the fuck was this asshole? It came to light much later when she walked down the aisle with him, his child, unborn, was going to be raised by this man.
So here he was now, sitting in garage, sleeping in his car, New York was cold in December. The wind was whistling, it was cold, sending a chill to the bone, what he wouldn’t give for just enough money to grab a coffee. The wind licked his face, the sounds nipped his ears, and all at once, the sounds, the feelings, the wants, and the needs stopped. They all came to an end with the loud echoing of a crack.
Coding for Character Name:
-Insert Character Name-
We've all seen the rich t.v. shows or heard the radio programs of daring soldiers blasting through the front lines, taking on enemy fire, and giving up their lives to save fellows comrades. We've had the charred battlegrounds described to us so intimately that we felt as if we could smell the smolders, or feel the warm winds brushing against our dirt caked skin. We've all heard the stories....about war, we've all been told time an time again in our history books that war is a repetitive scenario in human history...History breeds heroes, those who live to tell the truth and the villains, those who died at the hands of the heroes.
So, I guess in theory...what is true is always subjective...who's to say in-fact the villains didn't win? But then...I'm side-barring here.
What of those who aren't warriors?
In every war the stories are passed down from person to person, from warrior to warrior and then they are written. In those writings we hear sufferings from those we lost...Take for example World War Two and Hitler's mass extermination of the Jewish people. If we go further back in history we can find even more instances where the peoples of the time are the most affected. Even still we rarely learn their stories. Looking back again to World War Two one such story is Anne Frank, a young girl who wrote down everything about her life in a diary. How often does this happen? How often do we learn about the wounds, the sufferage, the sacrifice, and those taken from us who had no part in the battles that make up our history?
Story:
It was a cold, cold era rife with devestation of the European lands and filled with a body count that stacked well
into thed millions. Hatred was thriving against a people and pushing them closer and closer toward the brink of
extinction. This was all due to one man's drive to lead the world into what he called..perfection. He rallied an entire
fallen people to stand behind him and crush those who opposed their ideals. This was the second of the most catastrohpic wars
in our history and it was lead by a man named Adolf Hitler. This man sought power and to do this he created a regime known as the Nazi Party.
This group of people sought to relive the glory days of Germany and bring about a newer more perfect Germany. However, to do this they started a
a war and pushed the wrong people to stand against them while only very few would sit as their allies.
Japan and Germany shook hands one quiet night and in their own areas of the world launched assaults that began a war that would cripple the vast majority
of countries. The Japanese pushed into China and Midway cutting off supply lines with relative ease, while Germany was similar to a tidal wave washing over Europe.
The Nazi's hit hard and fast and when armies opposed them, they in turn were cut down like weeds in a field. As Hitler's infuelence spread, his ability to lockdown
entire countires with soldiers and armored division became more and more of a pressing matter. Still, he never slowed, not even when he reached Red territory and
threatened Joseph Stalin.
Those threats, inevitably became real as the Nazi blanket began drenching the white capped hills that were Russia in red. It was beautiful in its irony, the Red country
housing one of the most viscous armies, The Red Army, now was painted in a sea of crimson. Who'd have thought the meaning of the phrase would change so much?
In its scene, it was as if one wave was crashing against the other battling for its supremacy, though one began to waver in its resolve being pushed back all the to its breaking
point. But when a wave a people has nothing left to give and their final stand is all or nothing..their power grows immensely. Where the Nazi's had pushed and pushed the Russian
people, those same people had been biding their time..waiting for the harsh winter to freeze the wave of enemies washing toward them. The Red Army stood at Moscow and bathed
their home in the blood of their enemies.
This was the final mistake Hitler made, amongst a few others. The Reds marched forward through the winter, fighting all the way to their boarders and flying their flag
high and proud when they crossed into the green grasses of Europe burning everything in their path with only one stopping point in mind. Germany, the Reichstag.
Of course, when we tell the story of Russia, let us not forget The United States fighting Germany on the beaches and pushing in alongside the Red Army as well as island hopping
deepin the salty Pacific. While Russia was rallying against the Nazi Regime The United States had broken its silence and launched a full scale assault on the Imperial Japanese Army
as well as lending support on the beaches of Normandy. What we do know is that The United States came in with such power that our stories tell us of their glory. Its strange the amount
of stories being told of the young American soldiers and yet there are no excerpts of glory about the Russians or those who resisted the German forces.
As Russia pounded away at Germany and met in a pronged assault on the capital with The United States, Hitler went into hiding, and ultimately was felled in defeat. While the
war ended in Germany it was not over.
Japan was still holding out in Midway but not well. The United States had beaten them down so hard that the battles had all but ceased, even then Japan refused the terms of surrender.
That simple refusal lead to a day that changed the course of history. August 6th, 1945. The United States showed its hand in the most miraculous of ways, with absolute devastation.
The Manhattan Project, a project that had been kept a secret had its first unveiling when the trigger was pulled against Hiroshima. On that day, people turned to dust, fires raged,
and shadows were burned into the ground, the destruction of the Nuclear Bomb was clear and present for the world to see.
Japan...reeling in fear, still refused and three days later Nagasaki met the same fate as Hiroshima. The victor of this war, became known as The United States. Not entirely because
it was they who singlehandedly fought the Axis powers, infact that was untrue. What entitled them was the might the victor's had brought to the table..and the fear that they had bred.
Post World War:
The cold, cold era quickly became an embrace of winter's grasp that seemed..unshakable however, highly unstable. The Allies victory of The Axis had left Europe in shambles,
more specifically Germany, as well as the Imperialist Japan. That wasn't really much of an issue, the main focus was on the fact that The United States and Russia had seemingly
recoiled back into a political position of Isolationism. If anything, the world was concerned that the two victors seemed to be at a standoff, staring each other down
and daring the other to move. At first, it wasn't considered much of an issue until the world began realizing that both US and Russian troops had been deployed in several
different parts of the world. In some case, there were even skirmishes that resulted in the death of dozens of soldiers and civilians.
This post World War had the world teetering on the edge, so close to the brink that a metaphorical clock had been designed to keep a very close watch on the stated of the world.
In the end it became a physical clock that counted down to show how close the world was to absolute desturction. Troop deployments over several years of intense relations
became more and more frequent, so much so, that the President of the United States felt safer being hidden beneath the ground.
A speech was directed to the American people by President Kennedy when it was announced the Russians had actively moved into waters of The Gulf of Mexico. The directive
was that it was highly likely that war would soon break out and that the possibility of troops invading United States soil was growing ever more likely. It wasn't long after
that tension boiled to an all time high and turned into what became known as The Cuban Missle Crisis. The year was 1962, danger was imminent and any response that happened..
They don't think it would have prevented what came early the following you.
I imagine you've been told one hundered or so times that Russia invaded The United States in your stories...well, in ours Kennedy was the one who pulled the trigger. Russian
troops moved into a deployment pattern and before any warning was sent the President called in a missile strike followed by several naval ships of Marines wading through
the ocean. Noone expected Russian rresponse to be so absolute and immediate.
The state of the world was poor, noone except the United States and Russia had the capcity to wage a long winded war. Areas of the world were snatched away from governments
for their resources, whether it was China, Japan, Great Britian, Germany, Africa...one of the two super powers established military control and took a vice grip on their
territories
Status Quo
In depths world knowledge.:
For roughly the past several years(3) there has been a lock down in place along the Western most seaboard of the United States. The Russian Regime and its acting Tsar, Nikolai Demetriove had launched their initial assault the on the United States mainland. It started with bombardment of the coast, in particular the main cities of California, Oregon, and Washington. While not a substantial blow in resources it did have the American home defense in steady retreat. The Russians had managed to stop any kind of counter attack with constant aggression and had timed it perfectly, considering that the major parts of the American fleet had only recently set course for alternative destinations. This meant, that the majority of any naval defenses had been deployed elsewhere. While the United States did attempt air strike coming out of the west and the midlands, Russia had little to know problem repelling them. The sheer number of Russian vessels lingering out in the Pacific had proved a formidable and somewhat untouchable force. The initial strike lasted several days before the Russian armies finally made landfall and subsequently began exterminating large groups of civilians. This wasn't unheard of, infact the tactic was used by Russian enforcement groups to establish control over the general population. They didn't bother trying to disarm the peoples of the US so much as instill the fear of what may happen.
In past attacks on US controlled soil, Russians would follow their assaults with extermination protocols, which would spur the people in one of two ways, fear or resistance. The might of the Reds was enough to quell any resistance that had shown its head so far. There was a story out of Europe, after its annexation into the United States to establish a foothold in the vicinity of Russia, The Reds began taking cities left and right to form a wall around their mainland which ultimately lead to Europe becoming a fierce battleground. One of those cities came out of Poland.
Elblag..the extermination of this city has been embedded like a memory to those who hear its stories. When the Russian initially pushed beyond the borders of The Soviet Union and began commandeering cities and annexing them into Russian territory, American armies did not fight for those cities that provided no essential value. Elblag was on of those cities. However, follow World War II the Polish had a distaste for Russian, and thus began retaliating. At first, Russia was lenient. Following an initial extermination they warned the Polish resistance to stand down and even after the attacks from the resistance increased Russia only warned them. Several weeks into the occupation Russian officials issued this message along with a broadcast to all T.V networks. Obviously this was back when broadcasting companies still existed, atleast in more than just radio form.
First, Russians marched through the streets enforcing a curfew that took place about midday. Anyone who didn't comply was pulled to the center of the street and executed over opened manholes. It didn't matter if it was women, men, elderly, or children, or even those who couldn't necessarily comprehend. Russia executed them and tossed their bodies into the sewers. The sewers of Elblag were well known to be a hide out of the resistance, and thus Russia sent its message.
Later, on that day, Russian troops began following normal protocol and checked all doors to lock the civilians inside until curfew ended. They would rap on the doors with their knuckles and to let the inhabitants know they would be passed over for reprimand. On this day, Russian troops lingered infront of the homes for several hours while the entire town was checked. The broadcast still was streaming live when they began dumping gasoline onto the homes and setting them aflame. A message played over the sirens. "Жителей до Эльблонга ... по приказу Царя..у вас отказываются от вашего права на жизнь."
(Inhabitants of Elblag...Under the orders of the Tsar..you have relinquished your right to live.)
The homes, primarily made of wood, were consumed in minutes by the fires raging through the town, while Russian soldiers held their ground near the doors. Their faces did not forgo their rigid expressions to show any sort of emotions. Even as the people screamed and what was assumed to be begging for mercy, the soldiers did not move. In some places, people would break through their windows and crash into the snow covered grounds, rolling frantically, trying hard to put out the flames. They were shot, non lethal so as they would suffer in fate of burning alive. Those who suffocated or died to falling woods..they were lucky.
The day passed and slowly the flames died to the cold air and the lack of fuel to keep them going. it was then the Russian troops laid down their weapons and knelt before the Russian flag. "Для России!" (For Russia!)
The manholes around them began erupting from the ground while the roads in some places cracked. Russian troops had managed to place a series of explosives within the sewers that tore the town into nothing. They didn't care for resistance response, they didn't intend to take them as prisoners of war, they simply exterminated them without thought..The broadcast ended with the symbol worn by the Red Flag.
Russians forced submittance through stories and fear, anyone who refused to submit met a similar fate to those of the ruined polish city Elblag. Sad to say, that the story is only one of many. The East Coast fell to Russia allowing them to gain a massive foothold in the United States. The Home Defense was not willing to be pushed back any further and set up a defensive line that allowed them to hold back Russian forces over the vast majority of the United States, however this meant giving up on the three captures states for the time being.
President Bartholomew Madison issued a statement to the United States: Good people of America, we are in mourning. Not for ourselves, but for those who are now being held without consent under the Red Flag now flaying over California, Washington, and Oregon. My heart goes out to those and to those with families held behind the "Red Line". I, your President, along with my cabinet have issued a recall of troops from territories close by to assault the Russian fleet that has nestled in American waters. Hang in their America, we'll not abandon you.
Roleplay:
Bound behind the Red Line, many civilians did as they were told, ate only when given rations, drank only when the guards allowed them water.. They were worked long hours and were paid nothing. This was all in exchange for Russia allowing them to live within their borders, much like a tax through labor. Russian enforcers kept the civilians in line and arrested anyone who was even considered a mild threat.
Thus far? twelve had been subject to arrest and imprisonment under Russian rule. There had also been several executions since the first extermination. There was hope that America would break through but it didn't seem to be coming anytime soon. The fact was that it could be months, years, or never. There were a select few out there in the Red Line who had given themselves openly to Russian rule and become subjects of the Red Flag. These families supported Russian rule more to save theiur own skin from working in the yards and paying "tribute" to the soldiers.
When the Red Line rose, three states fell in line, although California tended to be the least submissive. Not as a whole, but given the size of the state in a few places there were uprisings taking place and actually holding steadfast in military facilities, outside of cities,. hidden within, or even underground much like in Elblag. The problem for the Russians was that destroying California as a whole would like agitate the fault lines and cause so much devastation that the foothold would likely be lost. So they were limited to just foot soldiers, and careful deployment of missile and airstrikes. This gave some room for maneuverability for the resistances.
There of course was a rumor going around that the resistance had been evacuating people out of the cities. Though many felt it was just another false hope or even a plot by the Russian armies to smoke out the resistance. Those who were found out to be searching for the resistance were usually tortured then executed or rather...never heard from again.
A letter:
Dear to whom it may concern:
I am a man inside The Red Line, my name is not important and if I were to give it I would be putting a great many lives in danger..so you'll just have to trust these hastily scrawled letters. I have been to the Red's jailhouses, I have overheard their plans for the future of this Red Line. The resistances have pushed the Russians far to hard in their attempt to free us, before I continue please understand that I do not blame the resistance, The Red army has more boats coming from the Pacific filled with more enforcers that have been sent to pacify those who resist and ultimately to "purify" the Red Line. This letter is being sent with many others at the risk of my own life...but please head these words...The people of the Red Line are going to be the subject of another Holocaust....please..if you are reading this, grab your families, tell your neighbors, risk death for your fellow man...because the Reds are coming and they will kill us all...please...if you're reading this...drop everything and Run.
By nightfall we burn away the wax and with one light...we guide the way..
WIP
WIP
WIP
WIP
[S.E.E.D.S will contain the following-
Blood and Gore
Violence
Horror
Sexual Exploits]
:Notes:
1. Yes this is a Post-apocalyptic, alternate universe role play
2. Knowledge comes with age, the old you are generally the more knowledgeable
3. There are very few working cars left
4. We have very few guns
- What kind of weapons do we use?
"Mostly weapons that can be crafted or have crafted ammo I.E.: Crossbows, shivs(knives), bats, axes.
Mind you we do have weapons and some of it does fall under the 'wierd stuff' category"
5. I will not accept a god character. PERIOD. If I say its two powerful or to perfect, then it is.
6. The lost of us are skilled hunters
7. Children are virtually useless
8. Old people are used like books, for medicine, etc.
9. Is there weird stuff? Probably.
- What kind of wierd stuff?
"You'll see"
10. Are characters going to die? Most likely
- But Average I don't wanna die.
"Sorry random rolls, bad luck"
KEEP IN MIND
This entire rp is actually in Europe right outside of the city of Rome.
:Rules:
Courtesy of Rhomeo
Rules:
1. Be respectful and kind to other players, in game they’re your family and outside we’re all friends, so let’s keep it that way.
2. My word is law; if your character dies, they’re dead.
3. All GM posts by me will have a special format to signify that it’s important to read them. Everything else I do will mostly be filler and a way of expanding on meaningless history and thoughts.
4. Feel free to discuss ideas in the OOC. There may be occasions where I PM someone if I want their direct assistance in the story, you'll keep this part to yourself.
5. Most of all have fun! You may create new characters upon death so you aren't exiled from the RP, I'd like to think someone of you will return.
Let the curtains rise and welcome to the roleplay!
S.E.E.D.S
.After Earth.
http://i58.tinypic.com/35bidxw.jpg
The idea that humanity is just an insignificance in the eyes of a grand scheme is something we as a race are prone to contemplating. The reality of this is instilled in our minds while we think about death and decay as an inevitability. We are a young people prone to mistakes even in the later years of our life. Greed, power, a hunger that drives us toward our goals of accumulation of wealth is what makes up part of our humanity, and much of what makes us human will be our undoing.
First Fall
The original fall of humanity began near one hundred years ago—to be exact one-hundred and seven years in 1955 Just after World War II the United Nations, or the U.N., was formed and at its literal height of power. Born into a world of fighting and deception the main players of the U.N.—known at the time as the Allied Powers—had actually come up with an idea to cease fighting all over the world. The U.N. and its pack leaders declared a destruction of country lines and a replacement of a conglomerate existence known as PANGEA- All countries existing as one entity.
As a conglomerate no longer blamed separately but as humanity they sat down and attempted to knock out the things that hurt our planet the most. They worked toward common goals, resetting Earth to its natural balance, a balancing of pollution as well as resource consumption. They had finally achieved what had been such a long and arduous road. They had pinnacled our race and found within that a harmony we had been searching for since the dawn of our kind.
However, by then we hadn't realized how much too late it was to fix our mistakes.
The Holocaust: Revisited
1970: In its rise to a climatic humanity had grown fat and lazy; their consumption had been so large that resources had come to a near extinction not once but on several occasions. To prevent mass genocide we had to recreate a dark moment in our history: we re-enacted a holocaust. It had its differences however, it wasn’t directed at any race, nationality, or religion, and it was directed at poverty. We annihilated third world countries in ways the U.N., at the time, had deemed inhumane. We treated the countries like anthills, less like people and more like a nuisance.
At the time we failed to realize that what we had done upset a balance of an unknown food chain. We didn’t realize that with a lack of humanity a “boom” of animal births would ultimately lead to mass crop extinction and inevitably the extinction of our own food sources. In our quest for Utopia, we condemned ourselves.
As the years began to roll on by the poverty got worse and worse. First world countries became little more than the anthills they had exterminated only a score ago. Disease, hunger, exhaustion, and riots were the cause of a constant in the rising number of death tolls. It seemed like the end for us, but one thing about human nature is that it survives.
The Contingency.
1990: A silent chapter in human history was a story hidden from public view. Whilst the world crumbled into a foreign and desolate existence, a splinter of the original U.N. scientists used what resources they could gather, and in a last ditch attempt pooled their knowledge into one creation known by a codename “EvE”. Codename "EvE" was an AI controlled program that sprouted to life with the last dwindling of humanity as it was falling apart This specific AI ran an extremely complicated process known as "SEED". This program’s purpose was the reestablishment of human society with "EvE" being the birth place of that new society.
The program "SEED" was something of a mystery even when it was being created. It used DNA of plants, animals, and humans to recreate the final fail safe protocol. It is unknown whether this protocol has even gone active
SEED has three steps:
1. Reestablishment of a food population
2. Reestablishment of drinking water
Both process 1 and 2 work in conjunction
3. (Failsafe protocol) Reestablishment of humanity by any means necessary.
The process of creating a city out of rumble was far-fetched and hard to even consider possible, while some latched onto this final attempt as a hopeful future, others wandered off in search of a more tangible way of living. Thus EvE and SEED were thought to have been abandoned and that was the last word of it.
The ultimate fruition of The Contingency was that humanity was to rebuild itself while being guided to avoid making the same mistakes as those that came before. This idea played such a major role in the final years of the U.N. that it was well known by anyone who has managed to survive the twenty years since its fall. Even still the thought of a city somewhere that produced infinite resources was like a dream. Some even still hoped to this day that dream would come true.
The Past Frontier
2010: With all resources depleted and many of the messages that had been coming from the governments head office in England ceased, the U.N. had finally met its match. Whether it had disbanded, died out, or the radio had stopped working people were mostly unsure, but one thing was true. At this point there had been a lacking of guidance and only mention of The Contingency for so long. Now? We were just tribes out trying to survive, scavenging resource in burnt out cities, and hiding in the shelters that weren't falling apart.
Current Date: 12th of July 2062
The following radio transmission has been the only mention of the EvE project since its original debut back in 1990 during The Contingency. It was never promised to have actually been fully available for human use, just that it was being worked on for the future.
Radio Message [ All open CB radio channels]:
"We found it, we found EvE, they weren't lying! The city is up and running coordinates are as follows: 41.9000° N, 12.5000° E. These are coordinates to ‘Rome’ if you are near the area and have a map bring all your survivors."
This message blared daily for roughly two hours between noon and two p.m. After the message had stayed on the radio for over six months it had become a dinner table topic. The odds of it being real significantly increased the longer the message played.
Where you begin
Early Morning of the 12th of July, 2062
With EvE calling from the horizon a small caravan has set its sights on the city that lies roughly a six days walk from their position. You are a part of this caravan. As part of a broken society skills are necessary even with a lack of education. The elder citizens generally have the most knowledge pertaining to medical treatments, but it’s up to the younger generations to hunt and establish ground. Rarely do you find anyone gifted enough to lead, and so it’s considered a task that all must give themselves fully to the caravan’s survival.
Survival in a wilderness that has gone array for now roughly fifty-two isolated years, since The Past Frontier period, is significantly more difficult. Guns are a commodity and thus are rarely used for hunting, and more for defending the group from attacks from other caravans, even so, they are generally nearly broken, considered a waste of time and to find a working one that is reliable is an extreme rarity.
Beyond that food and water is mostly stagnant or rotted to the core due to the lacking of good soil or plants. Even so some species have survived and are hunted and cleaned with care to prevent disease. Plant species are still more common because even in harsh environments they tend to stick it out and survive the best. In the worst cases grub (worms, bugs, etc.) is pulled from the ground.
Your first day of travel begins tomorrow, to trust you in light of this situation, you should tell us about yourself.
Character Sheet:
Name: This doesn't need to be explained, but keep it with your origin
Origin: Ancestral history or race
Sex: Male or Female
Age: 10-80
10: Totally useless child
80: Near dead, moderately impressed you aren't already
The Caravan has only been around for about five years
History:
(Type this like you would type an rp post: It'll help me get a sense of who I'm working with.)
History should be an epitaph to the following
- Skills
- How long you've been with the Caravan
- Your general background and personality
- Description
- Might mention what gear you tend to carry
Keep it simple
Photograph:
A photograph of your character
- Cg, Real life, Art.
- Avoid anime
- A picture is not required.
Add-ins:
If you have previously taken part in S.E.E.D.S, you may use your previous characters obviously. As well, if you'd like we can form more coherent backgrounds instead of just making them along the way.
I will be critiquing characters myself and if I say its to OP, its to OP
The initial scenery will be staying the same but I have added a few more things about the paths we'll likely proceed down such as burnt out cities, towns, etc. All players should give their two cents on the story as well.
Remember your characters have been gallivanting mindlessly around the area outside Rome for about 5 years. They've seen things. Its worth noting that overtime they may have seen mutations in creatures, but as far as zombies and the like go, this isn't that kind of Roleplay. Humans were exterminated by humans, and that's the way this RP is intended to roll. A giant cockroach along the way wouldn't kill us though. Also keep in mind this wasn't nuclear warfare, so even things like that would be rare, and you wouldn't come by it very often. With humans dwindling animal worlds thrive, but keep it to a minimum. We don't need firebreathing manbearpigs with telekinetic abilities. Big roaches, big rats, or even seeing animals thought to be "rare" would be more common.
Characters in editing.
Name: Seig Virelius
Age: 28
Organization: Sect
Title: Guardian
Appearance:
http://i57.tinypic.com/289943p.jpg
Written Appearance
Seig stands stout at 6’1 and is built as strong as any athlete. He is overall a broad built person making him a little intimidating to look at and while he has a “clean” look about him, it’s very obvious he’s more concerned with things other than combed hair and a trimmed bear. How many times has he tried to grow his hair out now? He’s lost count so it sits between short and medium more consistently than anything else, though when left to his own devices, he’ll quickly let it get unruly and messy. His notable qualities, are a pristine collar bone and well-shaped jawline. He does have a few blemishes, mostly consisting of small surgical scars around his neck, forehead, and right eye.
His skin is a medium tone though noticeably he was at one point extremely pale, almost sickly looking. His hair has a bit of a curl to it and falls into the color range of brown and dark brown, though origins of a blonde leave their foot prints in highlights strewn throughout his hair. Seig’s facial hair comes in extremely full and grows fairly quickly for no real reason.
Personality
How would one describe Seig upon first meeting him? Calculating, cold, angry, distant? Maybe you could find the right words for yourself. Seig was raised to be a soldier, to fight for the good of mankind and his heart, mind, body, soul, and mana are dedicated to what he believe to be the right path. So many words have come up and been tossed in his direction. Its often Seig is called narrow minded, prejudice, and pessimistic. What he considers, how he thinks, is not approached the same way that other approach thought. His words are usually what people need to hear, rather than what they want to hear. His every move is leading him to a greater purpose, whether its something as simple as saying “hello” or something as complicated as leaving a dying man to his fate or assisting him.
Seig’s personal goals are tied up in his want to save the world from its more magnificent problems. The resource crisis, the subjugation and separation of this worlds people. Seig finds importance in life though form hearing him talk and watching him act you wouldn’t be so sure. You’d question him, his motives, his actions, and until the day he sat down and told you what he was working for you’d never entirely understand…who’s to say you would even then?
Background
The Early Years
Seig’s childhood was an upheaval of worlds and constant alterations to find the most fitting regiment to what could be called “perfect life”. In his earliest year Seig remember a woman in rags who took care of him and taught him the basics. He remembered running around in a shirt that was too big for him, but never had any pants to wear. The insects and dust kicking up against his legs made them rough, calloused. His feet were inches thick with dead skin that had grown from nothing whilst he had climbed through burned out buildings and up into the rafters of the walls. He, like many other street rats, was just an orphaned child with no place to call home…or, was everywhere his home? He had no roof sure, but he had no walls to contain him (respectively speaking). He couldn’t recall everything, honestly it was probably for the best. What he did remember was many night going to bed hungry and cold, sometimes kids tried to beat him up because he was small and much of his early life was a war. There was a saving grace though, Evelyn and Amy. Evelyn was an old woman who wore ragged clothes and Amy was her youngest daughter, also Seig’s best friend. He spent much of his time sleeping around their hovel and was always trying to assist Miss Evelyn with whatever help she needed. She was his keeper, essentially his mother without being his mother. Many kids in the Slums had them it wasn’t uncommon in the slightest.
Amy, was something different to Seig, his first love? No, at that time they were to young. But she was family and he would have walked through bullets and fire to protect and serve her. In a way you could say he was in love with her, though neither of them would have known it. There was one time, he scaled a wall just to pull down a ripped up teddy bear some kids had stolen from Amy, after which he proceeded to beat the kids into a bloody mess. They were some ruffians a few years older than Seig and they were the type to push people around. Matter of fact even the police had been called on them a few times. That day held some remembrance for both Amy and Seig, as it was the last day they would have seen each other and it was the day “Seig” became “Seig Virelius.”
It was that day he was adopted by a head MP named Adrian.
“One day Seig, you’ll be strong enough to protect them all, not just Amy..”
The Mid Years (Middle school, High School Era)
School…so much school. Adrian, Seig’s adoptive father was a hard man to learn from. Everyday was lessons.
Monday and Tuesday: Math and Science
Wednesday and Thursday: English, History, and Political Science.
Friday and Saturday: Applied Logical Assessment to General Stratagem.
Sunday: Physical Training and Combat Applications
His entire middle school and high school careers were taught at home, respectively speaking because he lived on a military outpost. Adrian was a grueling administer, though Seig was happy that he wasn’t his personal teacher. Adrian hardly had time to be home, but where he was Seig took a day and Adrian took a day of which was spent together, just the two of them completely uninterrupted.
Seig’s teachers were hired directly by Adrian and he was taught ten hours of every single day at his home. Homework was not common for him, but due to his grueling exercises both mentally and physically Seig didn’t really do much else aside form study..It paid off.
It wasn’t easy, never seeing his adoptive father but Seig respected him enough to keep his mouth closed and just wait for his return home. They were a real family or atleast as real as Seig was used too. When it came down to it Adrian was highly admired by Seig, and thus he continued training and learning as Adrian suggested.
MP and Sect:
Seig’s time at the academy was spent like any prior trained recruit. He bested most of his classmates and had very few peers who equaled him on the battlefield. There was one name mentioned who competed with him pretty consistently, but he couldn’t be bothered to recall the boy’s name because it didn’t matter to him. Once again Seig was tossed into a life of training defined by a specific schedule
Monday: Physical Training
Tuesday: Leadership Modular 1-10
Wednesday: Applied Logical Assessment to General Stratagem
Thursday: Physical Training
Friday: Mission Prep and Briefing
Saturday and Sunday: Realistic Battlefield Applications
Sect began under the supervision of Adrian, however during its creation he passed away due to natural causes and the program was handed down to Seig who became its official administrator. Seig knew however, that wasn’t what he wanted to do. Seig wanted to fight for change, not sit behind a desk and sign papers. In its creation he decided to hand the power to a council system of his peers. Eight controllers of Sect would deem when the call for Sect was necessary and how Sect would approach its battles or missions. From the point of the council’s creation Seig stepped away from it all together and decided not to get involved.
Seig began training recruits very quickly and did take complete control over the standard for a Sect operative. During training he enlisted the help of several MPs he’d worked with back at the academy and infact ended up bringing them into Sect as recruits for the first squadron of Sect, his Squadron.
Sect was going to be the first time in Seig’s life since he’d been a child that his choices, his life, was at his discretion….strange.
Title Description
"I will fight for you..I will speak when your tongue is tied, I will listen when your ears have been muddled, I will walk when your legs cease to move, I will raise my shield in your defense when you no longer are capable of holding your own, I will raise my sword so you don't have to raise your own, I will be your shoulder when you need to lean, and when your lungs no stop their breathing, I will be your breath...I am your Guardian."- Seig Virelius: Oath to Sect Operatives
Weapons:
Shield: A primary symbol of his title Guardian, a shield that takes the shape of a standard circle. This shield has several specialties including one that allows an expansion and de-expansion in size. The normal size of the shield covers roughly just the upper torso, but once expanded it covers the entire width from head to waist allowing for proper defensive measures to be taken. Its made out of the same materials used to make the armor for Sect and is capable of withstanding missile barrages and long durations of gun fire. Its secondary measure of defense is one that requires the users to essentially hold himself perfectly still. The shield is flooded with the power of a PAGF and user receptors and nodes that allow escape, the power of the PAGF is transferred into a force field that can cover a 10 meter radius, and when pushed to its limit a full 20 meter diameter.
Sword: This sword is Seig’s personal weapon of choice, while he is capable of using the gunblade, he prefers this large sword dubbed “Mech Breaker”. Seig’s monstrous strength allows him to wield this massive sword both one and two handed as if it weighed about the same as a feather. This blade is about six foot in length and spans the width of your average male body. These sword were designed to break down mechanized soldiers as well as cut through vehicles, though their use is somewhat rare. Like Seig’s shield the sword experiences the same link with his PAGF unit and allows him to pour its power into the blade and use it to rip apart mechs and other things that might be considered problematic. Upon activating the trigger of the blade the edges will explode violently with a force of energy that expands outward at about two feet, capable of ripping asunder whatever it touches.
Armor:
http://i58.tinypic.com/246ks5i.jpg
Profession- "Non-prioritized"
Operation types:
Guardian Force: Leader
Name: Atris Strane
Age: 27
Organization: Sect
Title: Strain
Appearance:
http://i59.tinypic.com/34q0i91.jpg
Appearance Notes: No noticeable differences from the picture
Personality:
We’re talking about a man who will buy you a round, then buy the bar a round, top it off with three or four more, then himself will drink milk or soda and watch the festivities roll. We’re talking about a man who looks like he listens to hard rock or metal but listens to old orchestra and instrumental. We’re talking about Atris Strane and enigma to his fellow soldiers but a damn fine leader and the closest Seig considers to family these days. Those two, while never in the same place have a mutual respect that goes completely unmatched. He is popular with every lady but stays single, he smiles when shakes you hand and when he takes your life. He simply…is. His goals are unimportant, his future is set and he’s happy where he’s at.
Background: Atris has no formal background. Seemingly he was pulled from nowhere and that's just what his parents intended to happen. You see, Strain is a name given only to a select few born from a testing facility that is kept well hidden and its secrets maintained by only the highest authority. As his title implies he is a compilation of DNA taken from multiple strains and spliced together. This entire experiment was an attempt to create the perfect "human", but was called off due to un-forseen difficulties with the list of clones.
At his birth Strain was the 3rd in a line of four hundred and seventy-two clones. He was one of the few successes...rather, he was one of the few that lived past his teen years. Many of the clones broke down at a cellular level and some had to even be put down due to massive emotional distress. The current number of survivors is only known by a few men who have sense disappeared from the tower. What is known of Atris Strain? Well, mostly its a mystery and what information lies here is only in the hands of two people. Strain and Seig have kept a close relationship upon Seig's discovery of the circumstances of Strain's birth. He is a friend, but a friend kept under a watchful eye.
Title Description: He is a strain of the original
Weapons:
http://i59.tinypic.com/2l8vtw4.jpg
Armor:
http://i59.tinypic.com/2u9mx4m.jpg
Profession- "Non-prioritized"
Operation types:
Alpha Black- Leader
WIP (As you can see I'm reworking a few things, James Cassidy will also be up and I may add a third as well.)
Name: Gael Cassidy
Age: 31
Appearance:
http://i61.tinypic.com/59sy9d.jpg
Bio:
Gael has seen more than enough rough patches in his life, who hasn't though? In a world where you can't expect anything to go right, all you're doin' is hopin' for yourself to see the next sunrise. Back in the day, like most of em, Gael had something to his name. He'd dug is way out of the dirt Ole' Dad had buried him in and gotten lost behind walls of words like "safety", "survival", "future", "hope", "family". It wasn't until the walls came crumbling down around his ankles and the fires roared, staining the sky red as they let out each crackling pop. Some would say, "You are lucky you made it out alive Gael, stop brooding" The fact is what had pushed him on to that day had been Elise and Abby. Mother(Elise) and in their future a daughter by the name of Abby. For a time he'd let down every iron defense and found solace in the eyes of a girl who loved her white sundress. She was just the right amount of "girly" and the right amount of "badass" that Gael could come and go on hunts freely and not be worried about whether she could handle herself. She was about as close to perfect as one could make her out to be. If you asked him, she was, and when people even described her bad qualities you'd see a smile crack open to those "pearly whites".
They had expected the strength of the world against them, the sick, the food, hell even a few strangers trying to come in and take what didn't belong. What they hadn't accounted for was the greediness of humanity just trying to survive. That greed was embodied in a man named James, more specifically James Cassidy, and even more than that Gael's daddy dearest. He'd made appearances at the townwall several times by himself by when he showed up with an army and weapons that seemed improbable, there wasn't much the guards could do to defend the walls. That's not say every single one of them didn't go down fighting. They had all but died to get there and each of them died to protect the walls and those behind it. When the firepower James had carried was to much to handle they fell back from the walls and took up positions in the abandoned buildings. They were smart, trapping numerous amounts of James' peons and gunning them down even still their numbers, their vehicle mounted weapons proved to much for the community and James left it burning to ash along with several vehicles on which their explosives were packed.
Gael had been absent during the attack, and it had lasted no more than an hour. On his return with a couple others he found the city razed and the bodies of city-mates, what hadn't been found at first was Elise and Abby. What they found in Gael's home while checking for survivors was a note, and clasped pictures. In his hand James Cassidy held the a bloody dress, one that was soaked far to much to promote life. The first picture was enough to knock Gael into a chair that barely stood. The second turned his color to something of a pale. What the picture bore were the heads of both Elise and Abby, the scary thing about this picture was it was taken of Abby when she was no more than 4 years old. Gael dropped the plastic films to the ground revealing the note for the other boys with him to see.
"I told you boy, you belong to me."
Gael leaned back and pressed his head into the palm of his hand. One of the men rested a hand on his shoulder but he could see very quickly how pain was turning to anger, Gael's happiness, his reason for keeping on, had been taken, and now his driving factors were being replaced with revenge, with hate, with rage, and more subtle was the aura of loneliness that was radiating from him. It took no longer than a few hours to witness a change. In time, the boys left on their own, explaining nothing was left but Gael stayed behind, atleast for a little longer. It had been about 6 years ago all that had happened. Still the image was burned into his mind, fresh as newly picked potatoes.
Nowadays he held himself together not but a few tens of miles outside where all the smoke had turned the sky black, sometimes he'd even look out a window in that general direction, he'd remember walking up into a machine shop that was on its last leg and being given refuge by a man who'd just been keeping his own peace. Cinged rags for clothes, and a rifle hanging off his back, Cassidy wasn't willing to go down without bringing another Cassidy with him.
"I am what I am till they day I die, or until I don't have the strength to go on..."- Gael Cassidy.
Gael found himself a new home, and since he's not actively hunted down a man who'd shown himself to be nothing more than a ghost of Gael's dreams, but he kept his ears open, and his eyes wide. He shined lights in the darkness on sounds that made him jump, and everyday he kept his fist clenched ready for the moment when he could take hold of James' throat and tear it out. Gael kept pushing, even when the broadcasts started being picked up over the radio at the "Caravan" camp, somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew James would show up looking for it. His drive wasn't fading, but it was held side by side while he helped hold his new home together protecting the people in it.
But while this new home was a place he could sleep he was also haunted by what happened and what he believed would happen in the future.
It was common that Gael wore light clothes (as seen in posted picture) and kept a beard but trimmed it from time to time, losing your habits was the first step to loss of your humanity, least that's what he had grown up thinking. He was by nature a leader, and did what he could to help out whether it was hunting or protecting the people that couldn't do it for themselves, or minor things like helping the mechanic when she needed it or the doctor in the group when he needed it. He was skilled enough with a variety of weapons. If this world had taught him anything it was be ready, and be as prepared as you could, a rifle wasn't always your best friend.
WIP
Name: James Cassidy
Age: 54
Appereance:
http://i60.tinypic.com/jk9hk6.jpg
Bio:
I could sum James up in a word, and if I had to pick that word it would be heinous. This is a man who's personality is sated by taking what he wants, whether it be life or the back end of a woman who can't defend herself. The man is monster. What do you fear happening? He is what makes nightmares come true. He's loud, obnoxious, and doesn't care to wait for answers or questions, he simply does what he wants. Its terrifying but because the man is so unpredictable there is no way to evaluate him psychologically, its just best to avoid him.
As told by a loyal Right Hand:
Well look'e what we got ere', good ole fuckin James goddamn Cassidy. The terror of the seven seas would o'bit afraid of the wiley bastard. This ere' joker came and went from lives and left nothing but booze, poon, blood, and tears in his wake. The men loved him, the ladies begged for him, and if they didn't well...they ended up beggin anyway. James was a man that could get anything, and I do mean anything, you wanted. But James wasn't all a bunch of roses and posies. The man had a dark side and that all stemmed from his son Gael, of who he kept a picture in the inside pocket of his jacket and a scar on the side of neck from their last face to face encounter.
Once upon a time, the man had founded a family, and somehow he'd lost it. The mother was a woman who looked as if everyday she was battered and beaten, and the son? Gael? He looked as if he was going to burn the world down. His fury, the fire inside his chest beat when he looked upon his father. Many were envious, but something tells me those eyes weren't the eyes of a boy who idolized his Dad. They were the eyes of hate, all be it James didn't deserve the hate.
I here back a couple years ago, long after Gael had cut James right one his neck, that the ole man hunted down his son in a town they had renamed as Mercy. James caught wind of a rumor Gael had been living there and knowing that he burned that town to the ground, took a couple hostages too, but they didn't live long. James left a picture in an old house, but something tells me it weren't no accident.
Something else tells me James is still hunting, and even more, that Gael is hunting him..Who knows right? Oh hey, James is back and he's got the girls and the booze, guess in this world I can't complain right? Though the ones that cry alot do make me alittle queasy.
Rating Reasons
1. It's being ran by Average Hero
2. The Bio is a written Suicide
3. Blood and Gore
4. Occultish Mystery
5. Human Sacrifice
6. Violence
7. Explicit Romance (Within rules of RPA)
8. Murder
9. Tune is joining
10. Do I really need more reasons other than umber 1?
http://i61.tinypic.com/4gkdup.jpg
"Monsters are real, ghosts are real, they all live inside of us....and sometimes? They win."
TwIsTeD iC (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=56318)
Do not post until your CS has been approved and you've been added to the accepted list
The Story
“For so long, I, what humans have called a God, have kept the stars aligned. I reached with my never-ending grasp, to take hold of the chaos in this universe, and turn it to balance. They’ve given me names. Allah, God, Father of Time, Odin, Zeus, and so many more that have preceded even the eldest of words. I have always been, and I will always be.”
The scales are such a fickle thing, an addendum to the clock that ticks and tocks, counting every linear second. Provided by the powers that be, a God was born to oversee the chaos of a burning galaxy. What he found, was utter damnation. Burning worlds, pieces of what once had existed, had been leveled into nothing more than ground up chips. That was their history before balance. They didn’t have names, or kinds, or materials, they knew only one thing.
Power.
Power, was focused into magics and sciences, and that birthed the beginning and the end. The Alpha and the Omega. There was no saving history, it needed to burn, and it needed to be soaked in oils, lit flame, and washed away, dispersed in the oceans. The sands of time flowed ever so forward, and as the world crumbled, and began to die away into history, a cold grasp embraced those that lived. There were the last of those who’d held their stance. They looked to the skies as the fire reigned, and against the oncoming condemnation they brandished sword and shield and let out a battle cry that could shatter the heavens. It was in that moment, The God that watched over them found potential hiding within them, deep down in a shadow of themselves, in that moment he revealed himself and raised a shield about them.
“For you, who knows death, I beckon to you, not as a God, but as one who seeks balance, be my limbs, do what I cannot and touch this physical world, follow me, and we will bring balance, so that peace may let you sleep forever.”
That day, didn’t bring forth a world from ruin, at least not in mere moments. Not even a God can accomplish such a feat. However, with time, with hardship, and ties unsevered, those that had received a “gift” from The God had broken themselves for the entirety of a new world, and upon the day that their fruits of labor gave birth, they faded into inexistence, to sleep forever.
Many millennia later,
Death, or so The God had come to call himself, watched over the world keeping his word to those who’d sacrificed themselves to bring forth balance with such keen eyes that never fell blind to a change. As he watched, he’d noticed, but had left words unspoken as the balance was steadily being shifted from his grasp, pulling away his powers over the dimension. Even at his prime, he was not entitled to interaction with the physical world beneath him, and in that restraint he felt himself weakening, day by day, year, by passing year. Though, he was not blind to the change, he was however blind to the cause, as if it had rendered itself invisible to his eye. Someone, something, was opposing balance, opposing the natural order. The living, the dead, the unborn, they were not existing as they should; mistakes were being made, forced by an outside hand. Should Death stand for this, the promise he’d made those many millennia ago would shatter and those that had been taken from this world, would sleep in vain. He had no choice, intervention was necessary. So, he began searching through the mortal realm.
As before, as it had always been, Death could not appropriately interact within the physical world, especially not in this instance. He would need pawns, those who would work for him, be it forced, or willing. The world however had changed, it was in this Death had found it far more difficult to find suitable candidates. He could only summon those who’d faced death, and condemned themselves. In this era, there were no wars, or knights and soldiers facing down massive forces, there were; High school students, businessmen, stay-at-home mothers, congressmen, lawyers, military personnel. Those kinds, short of a few never faced death, not in the same sense, he would have to approach this in a new way, a way that forced those he needed to become what he needed. So many didn't even believe he existed, so many reveled in a false deity, and others, didn’t care. He knew the following; I can summon those, who have faced death, faced me.
In his moments of contemplation, he found the answer, as he watched the mortals defy his whims, by committing the ultimate sin against him. Suicide.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Growth and Power
As one takes their life, they commit ultimate sin, but even more apparent to the person is that, in a single moment before death, you are faced with yourself. What do you fear? Why are you ashamed? What controls you? What part of you harbors a disease that is no less a part of you than anything else? In death, you are faced with these questions, and in that single moment you must answer these questions and apprehend a part of you that was lost, the part that stands against yourself, and accepts that you are as much monster as you are man. This is how Death summons you. There is a sense within us all that strives for survival, none of us can escape that, it’s a matter of which piece of you has the strength to go on.
Power is not something we are born with, but something many of us obtain. How do we obtain a power that enhances us physically, and bestows upon us the understanding of magic? We grow. As you are pulled from the darkness of your sins you will be given an ultimatum.
“You will serve me for atonement, but you will not go hindered as you are now, I shall awaken what lies dormant within you...It is yourself that will create your new strength, and it is those around you that will nurture that strength into its final state.”
What power will be brought forth from your soul? With power, shall be brought forth what you fear most, strength begets weakness, but weakness brings need to grow.
The World
Where are you from? Can you even recall your former self? Do you remember what the air smelled like? How the salt tasted on your lips? What of the fresh feeling of wind blowing against your face, or the sun bearing down on your shoulders?
Its time I remind you, remind you that our world only exists without pyres scorching the skyline, because of a balance, a balance to avoid all chaos.
The city skyline in some ways clasps hands with the sky, and in others is what is left on the bottom of the world’s boot. A density of humanity falls within the confines of massive mega-cities, but few and far between these debatable eyes sores, are dots along the greens of hard-working towns. Some see cities as blight, others see towns as nothing, but both are important. No matter how large or small, everything has a place in this world, our world. Have you seen the New York skyline? It is gorgeous in the eyes of its own artists. What of the Amazons in the South Americas? The beauty of tree top canopies and dug out tunnels.
Then, there is the virtual world, a home away from home for so many. It is a vast existence of information, whether for work, or fun, it has everything. What we can’t find in the realm of the living, we find behind message boards and video games.
Then, there is one other place…but that’s a mystery. Care to find out the answers?
1. The bio for player’s characters will be that character’s suicide. Yes, in your bio your character will die. Be detailed, be morbid, but keep it out of some ridiculous horror movie. I would prefer not to see things like people throwing themselves into meat grinders.
2. There will be important narrative posts that must be read by players. These posts will be labeled “Death”. They will do several things, including give powers, acknowledge growth, and further the storyline.
3. I will be giving out powers based entirely on character development. This will not be randomized, but rather a fitting power. If you don’t like your power, than I apologize ahead of time.
4. I will likely select a Co-gm at some point who will help me decide what to do with characters and growth.
5. Players are allowed 3 characters maximum. I am giving you the option to make three, this way you might get a few different powers. This will also entail a portion of deaths of characters. Example: You build 3 characters, you hate the power 2 were given, then at the point powers were obtained, you can disavow Death, attempt to fight other players or just die.
6. Characters are half immortal. In the sense they very much so can die, or be ripped from the dimension and be forced to fight alone. However, it may also be possible that other players can bring about revival.
7. Every power has a weakness, and enemies look to exploit weakness.
8. Time period is Modern-Futuristic. Basically, most all things are set in our modern age but you might see a world more adapted to the future. Schools will be more specifically designed for students, computers are more advanced, militarized societies can exist, as well fashion will be more dynamic.
9. Finally, a gift to players. As characters develop, and they may develop at different rates, I will gift to you as the GM and Death, more power, and evolution.
Extra Rules
1. If you wish to play more than two characters PM Average Hero.
2. Tune is the goto in my absence. She is effectively my Co-gm.
3. Don't be afraid to ask us stuff, even if its planning ahead, or if you have concerns about anything.
You CS will not be written like a normal CS rather more a roleplay post, there are rules however.
1. Your CS is based on your Character’s suicide
2. Your CS will have personal history, though you may leave some mystery, the important part would be the history roughly 6 months to 1 year prior.
3. Your CS will have a description of your appearance to some extent
4. Your CS will include a photograph, no anime. CG is ok.
5. Your CS will include your name, and gender. Gender can be specified by saying “he or she”
Seig Virelius
http://i61.tinypic.com/w99vfs.jpg
The trigger felt slimy and cold in his hands. Try as he might the barrel wouldn’t hold steady, sweaty palms were to blame for that. Dry lips and heavy breathing had been so common for the past few hours that he felt as if he might die of thirst before he could muster the courage to enforce just enough pressure to make the hammer kick and lead him unto darkness and silence. He curled himself tightly together and sobbed, rolling on his tail bone hitting his back and head against the wall.
“Why, why…why…why the fuck can’t this just be easier?” Calls of mercy echoed through the quiet room of an empty parking garage, though it did accommodate his beat up old Mitsubishi.
“Why? Why?! Why?!!” Steadily the words ceased being questions and took on what sounded like demands, it was hard to describe, but the sense about it was, overpowering, and intimidating, like a man sinking into utter despair and mixing finally with madness. White palms pressed against his pale forehead and sweaty brown bangs as he rolled forward on his knees letting the firearm slide noisily across the concrete. All at once his head popped up while his fist slammed against sediment and tore open at his knuckles, blood immediately leaving droplets on the ground as the punishment continued.
“Fuck you, fuck your job, fuck your world, fuck your house, fuck whatever you stand for…How can you do this, how can you just…how can you just, how can you do this and justify everything you said you believed in? You took everything from me! My home! My job! My family!” There was a pause, long and quiet as he slid back and held the gun once more against his forehead, making a point to himself to part his bangs and feel the steel pressed against the wrinkles on his brow. “Even my family left me…” HE was quiet once more, as if beginning to find acceptance in his memories.
They had once been happy, they had once be laughing, and it as sudden. She looked him in the eyes and accused him of cheating, of betraying her. He didn’t know how to respond, his words lacked any consolation, she had given up on him already, there wasn’t much he could do, but even still he denied it. Standing across from her he reveled in what he knew to be true, she produce a photo of him standing with another woman, but how could she? He hadn’t been! There had been no other woman. They stood opposite form him, her, his mother, his father, and the quiet man in the back who took her hand, and only smiled. Who the fuck was this asshole? It came to light much later when she walked down the aisle with him, his child, unborn, was going to be raised by this man.
So here he was now, sitting in garage, sleeping in his car, New York was cold in December. The wind was whistling, it was cold, sending a chill to the bone, what he wouldn’t give for just enough money to grab a coffee. The wind licked his face, the sounds nipped his ears, and all at once, the sounds, the feelings, the wants, and the needs stopped. They all came to an end with the loud echoing of a crack.
Coding for Character Name:
-Insert Character Name-
We've all seen the rich t.v. shows or heard the radio programs of daring soldiers blasting through the front lines, taking on enemy fire, and giving up their lives to save fellows comrades. We've had the charred battlegrounds described to us so intimately that we felt as if we could smell the smolders, or feel the warm winds brushing against our dirt caked skin. We've all heard the stories....about war, we've all been told time an time again in our history books that war is a repetitive scenario in human history...History breeds heroes, those who live to tell the truth and the villains, those who died at the hands of the heroes.
So, I guess in theory...what is true is always subjective...who's to say in-fact the villains didn't win? But then...I'm side-barring here.
What of those who aren't warriors?
In every war the stories are passed down from person to person, from warrior to warrior and then they are written. In those writings we hear sufferings from those we lost...Take for example World War Two and Hitler's mass extermination of the Jewish people. If we go further back in history we can find even more instances where the peoples of the time are the most affected. Even still we rarely learn their stories. Looking back again to World War Two one such story is Anne Frank, a young girl who wrote down everything about her life in a diary. How often does this happen? How often do we learn about the wounds, the sufferage, the sacrifice, and those taken from us who had no part in the battles that make up our history?
Story:
It was a cold, cold era rife with devestation of the European lands and filled with a body count that stacked well
into thed millions. Hatred was thriving against a people and pushing them closer and closer toward the brink of
extinction. This was all due to one man's drive to lead the world into what he called..perfection. He rallied an entire
fallen people to stand behind him and crush those who opposed their ideals. This was the second of the most catastrohpic wars
in our history and it was lead by a man named Adolf Hitler. This man sought power and to do this he created a regime known as the Nazi Party.
This group of people sought to relive the glory days of Germany and bring about a newer more perfect Germany. However, to do this they started a
a war and pushed the wrong people to stand against them while only very few would sit as their allies.
Japan and Germany shook hands one quiet night and in their own areas of the world launched assaults that began a war that would cripple the vast majority
of countries. The Japanese pushed into China and Midway cutting off supply lines with relative ease, while Germany was similar to a tidal wave washing over Europe.
The Nazi's hit hard and fast and when armies opposed them, they in turn were cut down like weeds in a field. As Hitler's infuelence spread, his ability to lockdown
entire countires with soldiers and armored division became more and more of a pressing matter. Still, he never slowed, not even when he reached Red territory and
threatened Joseph Stalin.
Those threats, inevitably became real as the Nazi blanket began drenching the white capped hills that were Russia in red. It was beautiful in its irony, the Red country
housing one of the most viscous armies, The Red Army, now was painted in a sea of crimson. Who'd have thought the meaning of the phrase would change so much?
In its scene, it was as if one wave was crashing against the other battling for its supremacy, though one began to waver in its resolve being pushed back all the to its breaking
point. But when a wave a people has nothing left to give and their final stand is all or nothing..their power grows immensely. Where the Nazi's had pushed and pushed the Russian
people, those same people had been biding their time..waiting for the harsh winter to freeze the wave of enemies washing toward them. The Red Army stood at Moscow and bathed
their home in the blood of their enemies.
This was the final mistake Hitler made, amongst a few others. The Reds marched forward through the winter, fighting all the way to their boarders and flying their flag
high and proud when they crossed into the green grasses of Europe burning everything in their path with only one stopping point in mind. Germany, the Reichstag.
Of course, when we tell the story of Russia, let us not forget The United States fighting Germany on the beaches and pushing in alongside the Red Army as well as island hopping
deepin the salty Pacific. While Russia was rallying against the Nazi Regime The United States had broken its silence and launched a full scale assault on the Imperial Japanese Army
as well as lending support on the beaches of Normandy. What we do know is that The United States came in with such power that our stories tell us of their glory. Its strange the amount
of stories being told of the young American soldiers and yet there are no excerpts of glory about the Russians or those who resisted the German forces.
As Russia pounded away at Germany and met in a pronged assault on the capital with The United States, Hitler went into hiding, and ultimately was felled in defeat. While the
war ended in Germany it was not over.
Japan was still holding out in Midway but not well. The United States had beaten them down so hard that the battles had all but ceased, even then Japan refused the terms of surrender.
That simple refusal lead to a day that changed the course of history. August 6th, 1945. The United States showed its hand in the most miraculous of ways, with absolute devastation.
The Manhattan Project, a project that had been kept a secret had its first unveiling when the trigger was pulled against Hiroshima. On that day, people turned to dust, fires raged,
and shadows were burned into the ground, the destruction of the Nuclear Bomb was clear and present for the world to see.
Japan...reeling in fear, still refused and three days later Nagasaki met the same fate as Hiroshima. The victor of this war, became known as The United States. Not entirely because
it was they who singlehandedly fought the Axis powers, infact that was untrue. What entitled them was the might the victor's had brought to the table..and the fear that they had bred.
Post World War:
The cold, cold era quickly became an embrace of winter's grasp that seemed..unshakable however, highly unstable. The Allies victory of The Axis had left Europe in shambles,
more specifically Germany, as well as the Imperialist Japan. That wasn't really much of an issue, the main focus was on the fact that The United States and Russia had seemingly
recoiled back into a political position of Isolationism. If anything, the world was concerned that the two victors seemed to be at a standoff, staring each other down
and daring the other to move. At first, it wasn't considered much of an issue until the world began realizing that both US and Russian troops had been deployed in several
different parts of the world. In some case, there were even skirmishes that resulted in the death of dozens of soldiers and civilians.
This post World War had the world teetering on the edge, so close to the brink that a metaphorical clock had been designed to keep a very close watch on the stated of the world.
In the end it became a physical clock that counted down to show how close the world was to absolute desturction. Troop deployments over several years of intense relations
became more and more frequent, so much so, that the President of the United States felt safer being hidden beneath the ground.
A speech was directed to the American people by President Kennedy when it was announced the Russians had actively moved into waters of The Gulf of Mexico. The directive
was that it was highly likely that war would soon break out and that the possibility of troops invading United States soil was growing ever more likely. It wasn't long after
that tension boiled to an all time high and turned into what became known as The Cuban Missle Crisis. The year was 1962, danger was imminent and any response that happened..
They don't think it would have prevented what came early the following you.
I imagine you've been told one hundered or so times that Russia invaded The United States in your stories...well, in ours Kennedy was the one who pulled the trigger. Russian
troops moved into a deployment pattern and before any warning was sent the President called in a missile strike followed by several naval ships of Marines wading through
the ocean. Noone expected Russian rresponse to be so absolute and immediate.
The state of the world was poor, noone except the United States and Russia had the capcity to wage a long winded war. Areas of the world were snatched away from governments
for their resources, whether it was China, Japan, Great Britian, Germany, Africa...one of the two super powers established military control and took a vice grip on their
territories
Status Quo
In depths world knowledge.:
For roughly the past several years(3) there has been a lock down in place along the Western most seaboard of the United States. The Russian Regime and its acting Tsar, Nikolai Demetriove had launched their initial assault the on the United States mainland. It started with bombardment of the coast, in particular the main cities of California, Oregon, and Washington. While not a substantial blow in resources it did have the American home defense in steady retreat. The Russians had managed to stop any kind of counter attack with constant aggression and had timed it perfectly, considering that the major parts of the American fleet had only recently set course for alternative destinations. This meant, that the majority of any naval defenses had been deployed elsewhere. While the United States did attempt air strike coming out of the west and the midlands, Russia had little to know problem repelling them. The sheer number of Russian vessels lingering out in the Pacific had proved a formidable and somewhat untouchable force. The initial strike lasted several days before the Russian armies finally made landfall and subsequently began exterminating large groups of civilians. This wasn't unheard of, infact the tactic was used by Russian enforcement groups to establish control over the general population. They didn't bother trying to disarm the peoples of the US so much as instill the fear of what may happen.
In past attacks on US controlled soil, Russians would follow their assaults with extermination protocols, which would spur the people in one of two ways, fear or resistance. The might of the Reds was enough to quell any resistance that had shown its head so far. There was a story out of Europe, after its annexation into the United States to establish a foothold in the vicinity of Russia, The Reds began taking cities left and right to form a wall around their mainland which ultimately lead to Europe becoming a fierce battleground. One of those cities came out of Poland.
Elblag..the extermination of this city has been embedded like a memory to those who hear its stories. When the Russian initially pushed beyond the borders of The Soviet Union and began commandeering cities and annexing them into Russian territory, American armies did not fight for those cities that provided no essential value. Elblag was on of those cities. However, follow World War II the Polish had a distaste for Russian, and thus began retaliating. At first, Russia was lenient. Following an initial extermination they warned the Polish resistance to stand down and even after the attacks from the resistance increased Russia only warned them. Several weeks into the occupation Russian officials issued this message along with a broadcast to all T.V networks. Obviously this was back when broadcasting companies still existed, atleast in more than just radio form.
First, Russians marched through the streets enforcing a curfew that took place about midday. Anyone who didn't comply was pulled to the center of the street and executed over opened manholes. It didn't matter if it was women, men, elderly, or children, or even those who couldn't necessarily comprehend. Russia executed them and tossed their bodies into the sewers. The sewers of Elblag were well known to be a hide out of the resistance, and thus Russia sent its message.
Later, on that day, Russian troops began following normal protocol and checked all doors to lock the civilians inside until curfew ended. They would rap on the doors with their knuckles and to let the inhabitants know they would be passed over for reprimand. On this day, Russian troops lingered infront of the homes for several hours while the entire town was checked. The broadcast still was streaming live when they began dumping gasoline onto the homes and setting them aflame. A message played over the sirens. "Жителей до Эльблонга ... по приказу Царя..у вас отказываются от вашего права на жизнь."
(Inhabitants of Elblag...Under the orders of the Tsar..you have relinquished your right to live.)
The homes, primarily made of wood, were consumed in minutes by the fires raging through the town, while Russian soldiers held their ground near the doors. Their faces did not forgo their rigid expressions to show any sort of emotions. Even as the people screamed and what was assumed to be begging for mercy, the soldiers did not move. In some places, people would break through their windows and crash into the snow covered grounds, rolling frantically, trying hard to put out the flames. They were shot, non lethal so as they would suffer in fate of burning alive. Those who suffocated or died to falling woods..they were lucky.
The day passed and slowly the flames died to the cold air and the lack of fuel to keep them going. it was then the Russian troops laid down their weapons and knelt before the Russian flag. "Для России!" (For Russia!)
The manholes around them began erupting from the ground while the roads in some places cracked. Russian troops had managed to place a series of explosives within the sewers that tore the town into nothing. They didn't care for resistance response, they didn't intend to take them as prisoners of war, they simply exterminated them without thought..The broadcast ended with the symbol worn by the Red Flag.
Russians forced submittance through stories and fear, anyone who refused to submit met a similar fate to those of the ruined polish city Elblag. Sad to say, that the story is only one of many. The East Coast fell to Russia allowing them to gain a massive foothold in the United States. The Home Defense was not willing to be pushed back any further and set up a defensive line that allowed them to hold back Russian forces over the vast majority of the United States, however this meant giving up on the three captures states for the time being.
President Bartholomew Madison issued a statement to the United States: Good people of America, we are in mourning. Not for ourselves, but for those who are now being held without consent under the Red Flag now flaying over California, Washington, and Oregon. My heart goes out to those and to those with families held behind the "Red Line". I, your President, along with my cabinet have issued a recall of troops from territories close by to assault the Russian fleet that has nestled in American waters. Hang in their America, we'll not abandon you.
Roleplay:
Bound behind the Red Line, many civilians did as they were told, ate only when given rations, drank only when the guards allowed them water.. They were worked long hours and were paid nothing. This was all in exchange for Russia allowing them to live within their borders, much like a tax through labor. Russian enforcers kept the civilians in line and arrested anyone who was even considered a mild threat.
Thus far? twelve had been subject to arrest and imprisonment under Russian rule. There had also been several executions since the first extermination. There was hope that America would break through but it didn't seem to be coming anytime soon. The fact was that it could be months, years, or never. There were a select few out there in the Red Line who had given themselves openly to Russian rule and become subjects of the Red Flag. These families supported Russian rule more to save theiur own skin from working in the yards and paying "tribute" to the soldiers.
When the Red Line rose, three states fell in line, although California tended to be the least submissive. Not as a whole, but given the size of the state in a few places there were uprisings taking place and actually holding steadfast in military facilities, outside of cities,. hidden within, or even underground much like in Elblag. The problem for the Russians was that destroying California as a whole would like agitate the fault lines and cause so much devastation that the foothold would likely be lost. So they were limited to just foot soldiers, and careful deployment of missile and airstrikes. This gave some room for maneuverability for the resistances.
There of course was a rumor going around that the resistance had been evacuating people out of the cities. Though many felt it was just another false hope or even a plot by the Russian armies to smoke out the resistance. Those who were found out to be searching for the resistance were usually tortured then executed or rather...never heard from again.
A letter:
Dear to whom it may concern:
I am a man inside The Red Line, my name is not important and if I were to give it I would be putting a great many lives in danger..so you'll just have to trust these hastily scrawled letters. I have been to the Red's jailhouses, I have overheard their plans for the future of this Red Line. The resistances have pushed the Russians far to hard in their attempt to free us, before I continue please understand that I do not blame the resistance, The Red army has more boats coming from the Pacific filled with more enforcers that have been sent to pacify those who resist and ultimately to "purify" the Red Line. This letter is being sent with many others at the risk of my own life...but please head these words...The people of the Red Line are going to be the subject of another Holocaust....please..if you are reading this, grab your families, tell your neighbors, risk death for your fellow man...because the Reds are coming and they will kill us all...please...if you're reading this...drop everything and Run.
By nightfall we burn away the wax and with one light...we guide the way..
WIP
WIP
WIP
WIP
[S.E.E.D.S will contain the following-
Blood and Gore
Violence
Horror
Sexual Exploits]
:Notes:
1. Yes this is a Post-apocalyptic, alternate universe role play
2. Knowledge comes with age, the old you are generally the more knowledgeable
3. There are very few working cars left
4. We have very few guns
- What kind of weapons do we use?
"Mostly weapons that can be crafted or have crafted ammo I.E.: Crossbows, shivs(knives), bats, axes.
Mind you we do have weapons and some of it does fall under the 'wierd stuff' category"
5. I will not accept a god character. PERIOD. If I say its two powerful or to perfect, then it is.
6. The lost of us are skilled hunters
7. Children are virtually useless
8. Old people are used like books, for medicine, etc.
9. Is there weird stuff? Probably.
- What kind of wierd stuff?
"You'll see"
10. Are characters going to die? Most likely
- But Average I don't wanna die.
"Sorry random rolls, bad luck"
KEEP IN MIND
This entire rp is actually in Europe right outside of the city of Rome.
:Rules:
Courtesy of Rhomeo
Rules:
1. Be respectful and kind to other players, in game they’re your family and outside we’re all friends, so let’s keep it that way.
2. My word is law; if your character dies, they’re dead.
3. All GM posts by me will have a special format to signify that it’s important to read them. Everything else I do will mostly be filler and a way of expanding on meaningless history and thoughts.
4. Feel free to discuss ideas in the OOC. There may be occasions where I PM someone if I want their direct assistance in the story, you'll keep this part to yourself.
5. Most of all have fun! You may create new characters upon death so you aren't exiled from the RP, I'd like to think someone of you will return.
Let the curtains rise and welcome to the roleplay!
S.E.E.D.S
.After Earth.
http://i58.tinypic.com/35bidxw.jpg
The idea that humanity is just an insignificance in the eyes of a grand scheme is something we as a race are prone to contemplating. The reality of this is instilled in our minds while we think about death and decay as an inevitability. We are a young people prone to mistakes even in the later years of our life. Greed, power, a hunger that drives us toward our goals of accumulation of wealth is what makes up part of our humanity, and much of what makes us human will be our undoing.
First Fall
The original fall of humanity began near one hundred years ago—to be exact one-hundred and seven years in 1955 Just after World War II the United Nations, or the U.N., was formed and at its literal height of power. Born into a world of fighting and deception the main players of the U.N.—known at the time as the Allied Powers—had actually come up with an idea to cease fighting all over the world. The U.N. and its pack leaders declared a destruction of country lines and a replacement of a conglomerate existence known as PANGEA- All countries existing as one entity.
As a conglomerate no longer blamed separately but as humanity they sat down and attempted to knock out the things that hurt our planet the most. They worked toward common goals, resetting Earth to its natural balance, a balancing of pollution as well as resource consumption. They had finally achieved what had been such a long and arduous road. They had pinnacled our race and found within that a harmony we had been searching for since the dawn of our kind.
However, by then we hadn't realized how much too late it was to fix our mistakes.
The Holocaust: Revisited
1970: In its rise to a climatic humanity had grown fat and lazy; their consumption had been so large that resources had come to a near extinction not once but on several occasions. To prevent mass genocide we had to recreate a dark moment in our history: we re-enacted a holocaust. It had its differences however, it wasn’t directed at any race, nationality, or religion, and it was directed at poverty. We annihilated third world countries in ways the U.N., at the time, had deemed inhumane. We treated the countries like anthills, less like people and more like a nuisance.
At the time we failed to realize that what we had done upset a balance of an unknown food chain. We didn’t realize that with a lack of humanity a “boom” of animal births would ultimately lead to mass crop extinction and inevitably the extinction of our own food sources. In our quest for Utopia, we condemned ourselves.
As the years began to roll on by the poverty got worse and worse. First world countries became little more than the anthills they had exterminated only a score ago. Disease, hunger, exhaustion, and riots were the cause of a constant in the rising number of death tolls. It seemed like the end for us, but one thing about human nature is that it survives.
The Contingency.
1990: A silent chapter in human history was a story hidden from public view. Whilst the world crumbled into a foreign and desolate existence, a splinter of the original U.N. scientists used what resources they could gather, and in a last ditch attempt pooled their knowledge into one creation known by a codename “EvE”. Codename "EvE" was an AI controlled program that sprouted to life with the last dwindling of humanity as it was falling apart This specific AI ran an extremely complicated process known as "SEED". This program’s purpose was the reestablishment of human society with "EvE" being the birth place of that new society.
The program "SEED" was something of a mystery even when it was being created. It used DNA of plants, animals, and humans to recreate the final fail safe protocol. It is unknown whether this protocol has even gone active
SEED has three steps:
1. Reestablishment of a food population
2. Reestablishment of drinking water
Both process 1 and 2 work in conjunction
3. (Failsafe protocol) Reestablishment of humanity by any means necessary.
The process of creating a city out of rumble was far-fetched and hard to even consider possible, while some latched onto this final attempt as a hopeful future, others wandered off in search of a more tangible way of living. Thus EvE and SEED were thought to have been abandoned and that was the last word of it.
The ultimate fruition of The Contingency was that humanity was to rebuild itself while being guided to avoid making the same mistakes as those that came before. This idea played such a major role in the final years of the U.N. that it was well known by anyone who has managed to survive the twenty years since its fall. Even still the thought of a city somewhere that produced infinite resources was like a dream. Some even still hoped to this day that dream would come true.
The Past Frontier
2010: With all resources depleted and many of the messages that had been coming from the governments head office in England ceased, the U.N. had finally met its match. Whether it had disbanded, died out, or the radio had stopped working people were mostly unsure, but one thing was true. At this point there had been a lacking of guidance and only mention of The Contingency for so long. Now? We were just tribes out trying to survive, scavenging resource in burnt out cities, and hiding in the shelters that weren't falling apart.
Current Date: 12th of July 2062
The following radio transmission has been the only mention of the EvE project since its original debut back in 1990 during The Contingency. It was never promised to have actually been fully available for human use, just that it was being worked on for the future.
Radio Message [ All open CB radio channels]:
"We found it, we found EvE, they weren't lying! The city is up and running coordinates are as follows: 41.9000° N, 12.5000° E. These are coordinates to ‘Rome’ if you are near the area and have a map bring all your survivors."
This message blared daily for roughly two hours between noon and two p.m. After the message had stayed on the radio for over six months it had become a dinner table topic. The odds of it being real significantly increased the longer the message played.
Where you begin
Early Morning of the 12th of July, 2062
With EvE calling from the horizon a small caravan has set its sights on the city that lies roughly a six days walk from their position. You are a part of this caravan. As part of a broken society skills are necessary even with a lack of education. The elder citizens generally have the most knowledge pertaining to medical treatments, but it’s up to the younger generations to hunt and establish ground. Rarely do you find anyone gifted enough to lead, and so it’s considered a task that all must give themselves fully to the caravan’s survival.
Survival in a wilderness that has gone array for now roughly fifty-two isolated years, since The Past Frontier period, is significantly more difficult. Guns are a commodity and thus are rarely used for hunting, and more for defending the group from attacks from other caravans, even so, they are generally nearly broken, considered a waste of time and to find a working one that is reliable is an extreme rarity.
Beyond that food and water is mostly stagnant or rotted to the core due to the lacking of good soil or plants. Even so some species have survived and are hunted and cleaned with care to prevent disease. Plant species are still more common because even in harsh environments they tend to stick it out and survive the best. In the worst cases grub (worms, bugs, etc.) is pulled from the ground.
Your first day of travel begins tomorrow, to trust you in light of this situation, you should tell us about yourself.
Character Sheet:
Name: This doesn't need to be explained, but keep it with your origin
Origin: Ancestral history or race
Sex: Male or Female
Age: 10-80
10: Totally useless child
80: Near dead, moderately impressed you aren't already
The Caravan has only been around for about five years
History:
(Type this like you would type an rp post: It'll help me get a sense of who I'm working with.)
History should be an epitaph to the following
- Skills
- How long you've been with the Caravan
- Your general background and personality
- Description
- Might mention what gear you tend to carry
Keep it simple
Photograph:
A photograph of your character
- Cg, Real life, Art.
- Avoid anime
- A picture is not required.
Add-ins:
If you have previously taken part in S.E.E.D.S, you may use your previous characters obviously. As well, if you'd like we can form more coherent backgrounds instead of just making them along the way.
I will be critiquing characters myself and if I say its to OP, its to OP
The initial scenery will be staying the same but I have added a few more things about the paths we'll likely proceed down such as burnt out cities, towns, etc. All players should give their two cents on the story as well.
Remember your characters have been gallivanting mindlessly around the area outside Rome for about 5 years. They've seen things. Its worth noting that overtime they may have seen mutations in creatures, but as far as zombies and the like go, this isn't that kind of Roleplay. Humans were exterminated by humans, and that's the way this RP is intended to roll. A giant cockroach along the way wouldn't kill us though. Also keep in mind this wasn't nuclear warfare, so even things like that would be rare, and you wouldn't come by it very often. With humans dwindling animal worlds thrive, but keep it to a minimum. We don't need firebreathing manbearpigs with telekinetic abilities. Big roaches, big rats, or even seeing animals thought to be "rare" would be more common.
Characters in editing.
Name: Seig Virelius
Age: 28
Organization: Sect
Title: Guardian
Appearance:
http://i57.tinypic.com/289943p.jpg
Written Appearance
Seig stands stout at 6’1 and is built as strong as any athlete. He is overall a broad built person making him a little intimidating to look at and while he has a “clean” look about him, it’s very obvious he’s more concerned with things other than combed hair and a trimmed bear. How many times has he tried to grow his hair out now? He’s lost count so it sits between short and medium more consistently than anything else, though when left to his own devices, he’ll quickly let it get unruly and messy. His notable qualities, are a pristine collar bone and well-shaped jawline. He does have a few blemishes, mostly consisting of small surgical scars around his neck, forehead, and right eye.
His skin is a medium tone though noticeably he was at one point extremely pale, almost sickly looking. His hair has a bit of a curl to it and falls into the color range of brown and dark brown, though origins of a blonde leave their foot prints in highlights strewn throughout his hair. Seig’s facial hair comes in extremely full and grows fairly quickly for no real reason.
Personality
How would one describe Seig upon first meeting him? Calculating, cold, angry, distant? Maybe you could find the right words for yourself. Seig was raised to be a soldier, to fight for the good of mankind and his heart, mind, body, soul, and mana are dedicated to what he believe to be the right path. So many words have come up and been tossed in his direction. Its often Seig is called narrow minded, prejudice, and pessimistic. What he considers, how he thinks, is not approached the same way that other approach thought. His words are usually what people need to hear, rather than what they want to hear. His every move is leading him to a greater purpose, whether its something as simple as saying “hello” or something as complicated as leaving a dying man to his fate or assisting him.
Seig’s personal goals are tied up in his want to save the world from its more magnificent problems. The resource crisis, the subjugation and separation of this worlds people. Seig finds importance in life though form hearing him talk and watching him act you wouldn’t be so sure. You’d question him, his motives, his actions, and until the day he sat down and told you what he was working for you’d never entirely understand…who’s to say you would even then?
Background
The Early Years
Seig’s childhood was an upheaval of worlds and constant alterations to find the most fitting regiment to what could be called “perfect life”. In his earliest year Seig remember a woman in rags who took care of him and taught him the basics. He remembered running around in a shirt that was too big for him, but never had any pants to wear. The insects and dust kicking up against his legs made them rough, calloused. His feet were inches thick with dead skin that had grown from nothing whilst he had climbed through burned out buildings and up into the rafters of the walls. He, like many other street rats, was just an orphaned child with no place to call home…or, was everywhere his home? He had no roof sure, but he had no walls to contain him (respectively speaking). He couldn’t recall everything, honestly it was probably for the best. What he did remember was many night going to bed hungry and cold, sometimes kids tried to beat him up because he was small and much of his early life was a war. There was a saving grace though, Evelyn and Amy. Evelyn was an old woman who wore ragged clothes and Amy was her youngest daughter, also Seig’s best friend. He spent much of his time sleeping around their hovel and was always trying to assist Miss Evelyn with whatever help she needed. She was his keeper, essentially his mother without being his mother. Many kids in the Slums had them it wasn’t uncommon in the slightest.
Amy, was something different to Seig, his first love? No, at that time they were to young. But she was family and he would have walked through bullets and fire to protect and serve her. In a way you could say he was in love with her, though neither of them would have known it. There was one time, he scaled a wall just to pull down a ripped up teddy bear some kids had stolen from Amy, after which he proceeded to beat the kids into a bloody mess. They were some ruffians a few years older than Seig and they were the type to push people around. Matter of fact even the police had been called on them a few times. That day held some remembrance for both Amy and Seig, as it was the last day they would have seen each other and it was the day “Seig” became “Seig Virelius.”
It was that day he was adopted by a head MP named Adrian.
“One day Seig, you’ll be strong enough to protect them all, not just Amy..”
The Mid Years (Middle school, High School Era)
School…so much school. Adrian, Seig’s adoptive father was a hard man to learn from. Everyday was lessons.
Monday and Tuesday: Math and Science
Wednesday and Thursday: English, History, and Political Science.
Friday and Saturday: Applied Logical Assessment to General Stratagem.
Sunday: Physical Training and Combat Applications
His entire middle school and high school careers were taught at home, respectively speaking because he lived on a military outpost. Adrian was a grueling administer, though Seig was happy that he wasn’t his personal teacher. Adrian hardly had time to be home, but where he was Seig took a day and Adrian took a day of which was spent together, just the two of them completely uninterrupted.
Seig’s teachers were hired directly by Adrian and he was taught ten hours of every single day at his home. Homework was not common for him, but due to his grueling exercises both mentally and physically Seig didn’t really do much else aside form study..It paid off.
It wasn’t easy, never seeing his adoptive father but Seig respected him enough to keep his mouth closed and just wait for his return home. They were a real family or atleast as real as Seig was used too. When it came down to it Adrian was highly admired by Seig, and thus he continued training and learning as Adrian suggested.
MP and Sect:
Seig’s time at the academy was spent like any prior trained recruit. He bested most of his classmates and had very few peers who equaled him on the battlefield. There was one name mentioned who competed with him pretty consistently, but he couldn’t be bothered to recall the boy’s name because it didn’t matter to him. Once again Seig was tossed into a life of training defined by a specific schedule
Monday: Physical Training
Tuesday: Leadership Modular 1-10
Wednesday: Applied Logical Assessment to General Stratagem
Thursday: Physical Training
Friday: Mission Prep and Briefing
Saturday and Sunday: Realistic Battlefield Applications
Sect began under the supervision of Adrian, however during its creation he passed away due to natural causes and the program was handed down to Seig who became its official administrator. Seig knew however, that wasn’t what he wanted to do. Seig wanted to fight for change, not sit behind a desk and sign papers. In its creation he decided to hand the power to a council system of his peers. Eight controllers of Sect would deem when the call for Sect was necessary and how Sect would approach its battles or missions. From the point of the council’s creation Seig stepped away from it all together and decided not to get involved.
Seig began training recruits very quickly and did take complete control over the standard for a Sect operative. During training he enlisted the help of several MPs he’d worked with back at the academy and infact ended up bringing them into Sect as recruits for the first squadron of Sect, his Squadron.
Sect was going to be the first time in Seig’s life since he’d been a child that his choices, his life, was at his discretion….strange.
Title Description
"I will fight for you..I will speak when your tongue is tied, I will listen when your ears have been muddled, I will walk when your legs cease to move, I will raise my shield in your defense when you no longer are capable of holding your own, I will raise my sword so you don't have to raise your own, I will be your shoulder when you need to lean, and when your lungs no stop their breathing, I will be your breath...I am your Guardian."- Seig Virelius: Oath to Sect Operatives
Weapons:
Shield: A primary symbol of his title Guardian, a shield that takes the shape of a standard circle. This shield has several specialties including one that allows an expansion and de-expansion in size. The normal size of the shield covers roughly just the upper torso, but once expanded it covers the entire width from head to waist allowing for proper defensive measures to be taken. Its made out of the same materials used to make the armor for Sect and is capable of withstanding missile barrages and long durations of gun fire. Its secondary measure of defense is one that requires the users to essentially hold himself perfectly still. The shield is flooded with the power of a PAGF and user receptors and nodes that allow escape, the power of the PAGF is transferred into a force field that can cover a 10 meter radius, and when pushed to its limit a full 20 meter diameter.
Sword: This sword is Seig’s personal weapon of choice, while he is capable of using the gunblade, he prefers this large sword dubbed “Mech Breaker”. Seig’s monstrous strength allows him to wield this massive sword both one and two handed as if it weighed about the same as a feather. This blade is about six foot in length and spans the width of your average male body. These sword were designed to break down mechanized soldiers as well as cut through vehicles, though their use is somewhat rare. Like Seig’s shield the sword experiences the same link with his PAGF unit and allows him to pour its power into the blade and use it to rip apart mechs and other things that might be considered problematic. Upon activating the trigger of the blade the edges will explode violently with a force of energy that expands outward at about two feet, capable of ripping asunder whatever it touches.
Armor:
http://i58.tinypic.com/246ks5i.jpg
Profession- "Non-prioritized"
Operation types:
Guardian Force: Leader
Name: Atris Strane
Age: 27
Organization: Sect
Title: Strain
Appearance:
http://i59.tinypic.com/34q0i91.jpg
Appearance Notes: No noticeable differences from the picture
Personality:
We’re talking about a man who will buy you a round, then buy the bar a round, top it off with three or four more, then himself will drink milk or soda and watch the festivities roll. We’re talking about a man who looks like he listens to hard rock or metal but listens to old orchestra and instrumental. We’re talking about Atris Strane and enigma to his fellow soldiers but a damn fine leader and the closest Seig considers to family these days. Those two, while never in the same place have a mutual respect that goes completely unmatched. He is popular with every lady but stays single, he smiles when shakes you hand and when he takes your life. He simply…is. His goals are unimportant, his future is set and he’s happy where he’s at.
Background: Atris has no formal background. Seemingly he was pulled from nowhere and that's just what his parents intended to happen. You see, Strain is a name given only to a select few born from a testing facility that is kept well hidden and its secrets maintained by only the highest authority. As his title implies he is a compilation of DNA taken from multiple strains and spliced together. This entire experiment was an attempt to create the perfect "human", but was called off due to un-forseen difficulties with the list of clones.
At his birth Strain was the 3rd in a line of four hundred and seventy-two clones. He was one of the few successes...rather, he was one of the few that lived past his teen years. Many of the clones broke down at a cellular level and some had to even be put down due to massive emotional distress. The current number of survivors is only known by a few men who have sense disappeared from the tower. What is known of Atris Strain? Well, mostly its a mystery and what information lies here is only in the hands of two people. Strain and Seig have kept a close relationship upon Seig's discovery of the circumstances of Strain's birth. He is a friend, but a friend kept under a watchful eye.
Title Description: He is a strain of the original
Weapons:
http://i59.tinypic.com/2l8vtw4.jpg
Armor:
http://i59.tinypic.com/2u9mx4m.jpg
Profession- "Non-prioritized"
Operation types:
Alpha Black- Leader
WIP (As you can see I'm reworking a few things, James Cassidy will also be up and I may add a third as well.)
Name: Gael Cassidy
Age: 31
Appearance:
http://i61.tinypic.com/59sy9d.jpg
Bio:
Gael has seen more than enough rough patches in his life, who hasn't though? In a world where you can't expect anything to go right, all you're doin' is hopin' for yourself to see the next sunrise. Back in the day, like most of em, Gael had something to his name. He'd dug is way out of the dirt Ole' Dad had buried him in and gotten lost behind walls of words like "safety", "survival", "future", "hope", "family". It wasn't until the walls came crumbling down around his ankles and the fires roared, staining the sky red as they let out each crackling pop. Some would say, "You are lucky you made it out alive Gael, stop brooding" The fact is what had pushed him on to that day had been Elise and Abby. Mother(Elise) and in their future a daughter by the name of Abby. For a time he'd let down every iron defense and found solace in the eyes of a girl who loved her white sundress. She was just the right amount of "girly" and the right amount of "badass" that Gael could come and go on hunts freely and not be worried about whether she could handle herself. She was about as close to perfect as one could make her out to be. If you asked him, she was, and when people even described her bad qualities you'd see a smile crack open to those "pearly whites".
They had expected the strength of the world against them, the sick, the food, hell even a few strangers trying to come in and take what didn't belong. What they hadn't accounted for was the greediness of humanity just trying to survive. That greed was embodied in a man named James, more specifically James Cassidy, and even more than that Gael's daddy dearest. He'd made appearances at the townwall several times by himself by when he showed up with an army and weapons that seemed improbable, there wasn't much the guards could do to defend the walls. That's not say every single one of them didn't go down fighting. They had all but died to get there and each of them died to protect the walls and those behind it. When the firepower James had carried was to much to handle they fell back from the walls and took up positions in the abandoned buildings. They were smart, trapping numerous amounts of James' peons and gunning them down even still their numbers, their vehicle mounted weapons proved to much for the community and James left it burning to ash along with several vehicles on which their explosives were packed.
Gael had been absent during the attack, and it had lasted no more than an hour. On his return with a couple others he found the city razed and the bodies of city-mates, what hadn't been found at first was Elise and Abby. What they found in Gael's home while checking for survivors was a note, and clasped pictures. In his hand James Cassidy held the a bloody dress, one that was soaked far to much to promote life. The first picture was enough to knock Gael into a chair that barely stood. The second turned his color to something of a pale. What the picture bore were the heads of both Elise and Abby, the scary thing about this picture was it was taken of Abby when she was no more than 4 years old. Gael dropped the plastic films to the ground revealing the note for the other boys with him to see.
"I told you boy, you belong to me."
Gael leaned back and pressed his head into the palm of his hand. One of the men rested a hand on his shoulder but he could see very quickly how pain was turning to anger, Gael's happiness, his reason for keeping on, had been taken, and now his driving factors were being replaced with revenge, with hate, with rage, and more subtle was the aura of loneliness that was radiating from him. It took no longer than a few hours to witness a change. In time, the boys left on their own, explaining nothing was left but Gael stayed behind, atleast for a little longer. It had been about 6 years ago all that had happened. Still the image was burned into his mind, fresh as newly picked potatoes.
Nowadays he held himself together not but a few tens of miles outside where all the smoke had turned the sky black, sometimes he'd even look out a window in that general direction, he'd remember walking up into a machine shop that was on its last leg and being given refuge by a man who'd just been keeping his own peace. Cinged rags for clothes, and a rifle hanging off his back, Cassidy wasn't willing to go down without bringing another Cassidy with him.
"I am what I am till they day I die, or until I don't have the strength to go on..."- Gael Cassidy.
Gael found himself a new home, and since he's not actively hunted down a man who'd shown himself to be nothing more than a ghost of Gael's dreams, but he kept his ears open, and his eyes wide. He shined lights in the darkness on sounds that made him jump, and everyday he kept his fist clenched ready for the moment when he could take hold of James' throat and tear it out. Gael kept pushing, even when the broadcasts started being picked up over the radio at the "Caravan" camp, somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew James would show up looking for it. His drive wasn't fading, but it was held side by side while he helped hold his new home together protecting the people in it.
But while this new home was a place he could sleep he was also haunted by what happened and what he believed would happen in the future.
It was common that Gael wore light clothes (as seen in posted picture) and kept a beard but trimmed it from time to time, losing your habits was the first step to loss of your humanity, least that's what he had grown up thinking. He was by nature a leader, and did what he could to help out whether it was hunting or protecting the people that couldn't do it for themselves, or minor things like helping the mechanic when she needed it or the doctor in the group when he needed it. He was skilled enough with a variety of weapons. If this world had taught him anything it was be ready, and be as prepared as you could, a rifle wasn't always your best friend.
WIP
Name: James Cassidy
Age: 54
Appereance:
http://i60.tinypic.com/jk9hk6.jpg
Bio:
I could sum James up in a word, and if I had to pick that word it would be heinous. This is a man who's personality is sated by taking what he wants, whether it be life or the back end of a woman who can't defend herself. The man is monster. What do you fear happening? He is what makes nightmares come true. He's loud, obnoxious, and doesn't care to wait for answers or questions, he simply does what he wants. Its terrifying but because the man is so unpredictable there is no way to evaluate him psychologically, its just best to avoid him.
As told by a loyal Right Hand:
Well look'e what we got ere', good ole fuckin James goddamn Cassidy. The terror of the seven seas would o'bit afraid of the wiley bastard. This ere' joker came and went from lives and left nothing but booze, poon, blood, and tears in his wake. The men loved him, the ladies begged for him, and if they didn't well...they ended up beggin anyway. James was a man that could get anything, and I do mean anything, you wanted. But James wasn't all a bunch of roses and posies. The man had a dark side and that all stemmed from his son Gael, of who he kept a picture in the inside pocket of his jacket and a scar on the side of neck from their last face to face encounter.
Once upon a time, the man had founded a family, and somehow he'd lost it. The mother was a woman who looked as if everyday she was battered and beaten, and the son? Gael? He looked as if he was going to burn the world down. His fury, the fire inside his chest beat when he looked upon his father. Many were envious, but something tells me those eyes weren't the eyes of a boy who idolized his Dad. They were the eyes of hate, all be it James didn't deserve the hate.
I here back a couple years ago, long after Gael had cut James right one his neck, that the ole man hunted down his son in a town they had renamed as Mercy. James caught wind of a rumor Gael had been living there and knowing that he burned that town to the ground, took a couple hostages too, but they didn't live long. James left a picture in an old house, but something tells me it weren't no accident.
Something else tells me James is still hunting, and even more, that Gael is hunting him..Who knows right? Oh hey, James is back and he's got the girls and the booze, guess in this world I can't complain right? Though the ones that cry alot do make me alittle queasy.