|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Wed Feb 16, 2011 5:46 am
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Feb 16, 2011 6:00 am
 |
|
|
|
" ｙｏｕ ｄｏｎ'ｔ ｗａｎｔ ｔｏ ｈｕｒｔ ｍｅ,
ｂｕｔ ｓｅｅ ｈｏｗ ｄ ｅ ｅ ｐ ｔｈｅ ｂｕｌｌｅｔ ｌｉｅｓ "
the story
======== ☣ ========
XXXXIt began with an infection, followed by containment, and ended in blood and smoke. The virus had been man-made, created by an ingenious doomsday cult to simulate their own, perfectly planned end to the world. The virus was let loose in a single building in one of the largest cities in the United States. The building was placed under quarantine when the virus began to spread. Anything that tried to come out was shot on sight. Anyone who entered wasn't allowed to leave until a cure had been found. One by one the patrons of the building began to catch the infection and go crazy, attacking anything around them that moved. The virus affected the brain and was deemed a form of super rabies, spreading faster than regular rabies, and affecting humans worse than it actually did animals. No one in the building survived. Only they didn't remain dead. The virus continued to send triggers to the brain and the corpses were reanimated. The became zombies. The government thought they had everything under control, however, as long as they managed to keep the zombies inside the building, which they would torch. What they hadn't accounted for were the rats. Pet rats, to be exact, who escaped the bloodshed of the building through the underground, making their way through the sewer systems of the city. They infected other rats, who in turn infected other animals, who eventually infected other humans. Soon the entire city was in chaos, then the county, then the state. The virus spread across the entire country. No one was truly safe. Instead of destroying the world, the cult had only managed to destroy humanity.
XXXXThose who fled the country unknowingly carried infected animals, who showed no real signs of the virus, and the virus spread to the rest of the world. Some were able to contain the infected, by building walls or through mass genocide. The armies of the world and its officials survived through any means and they were able to protect several camps of people. Eventually, the virus grew so out of hand that countries began carpet bombing their own cities. It wasn't enough. The other countries blamed the United States. The U.S. was then promptly shunned and abandoned. There was no longer any hope. Even Mexico had built up a giant wall to block any more infected or zombies from entering. Irony is a b***h.
XXXXThose who had survived remained hidden underground or in mountains, or banded together to fortify small cities or communities. They remained that way for many months until their food supplies began to drain. When they emerged all they saw was desolation. A Wasteland. Not only did they have to protect themselves against the undead or newly infected, they also had to worry about raiding gangs or cannibals when they did venture out. Now those who have banded together must work together, just as their ancestors had done when the world was new, to form small settlements and outposts, develop trading routes, even gather military units to scout the lands and protect scavengers and caravans. This is where you come in. It's been two years since the devastation. Not all of the cities are intact, so the means by which to live are growing scarce or harder to obtain with the vast amount of undead roaming the streets. Oh, and to make matters worse, some of the undead are beginning to mutate. So where do you belong in the Wasteland? How will you survive?
|
 |
|
|
|
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Feb 16, 2011 6:13 am
|
|
|
 |
" ｕｎａｗａｒｅ ｔｈａｔ ｉ'ｍ ｔｅａｒｉｎｇ ｙｏｕ ａ ｓ ｕ ｎ ｄ ｅ ｒ.
ｔｈｅｒｅ ｉｓ ｔｈｕｎｄｅｒ ｉｎ ｏｕｒ ｈｅａｒｔｓ, ｂａｂｙ "
the rules
======== ☣ ========
▶ ▷ ｃ ｏ ｎ ｄ ｕ ｃ ｔ ◀ ◁
follow the gaia terms of service and the guild standards.
please commit, and if you can't continue role-playing please tell us.
absences are expected, of course. but if you can, warn us!
i made this for all of you so have fun!
ooc should go in the ooc thread, hence why it was made.
▶ ▷ ｐ ｏ ｓ ｔ ｉ ｎ ｇ ◀ ◁
quality over quantity. a million paragraphs of fluff is not appreciated.
two paragraph minimum. that's with writer's block.
despite the fact that i'm using all lowercase here, i want proper capitalization in your posts.
grammar and spelling should be as well-checked as possible. proofread your posts before you post them.
i expect third-person, past tense. if you don't know what that means, you probably aren't up to par here.
▶ ▷ ｃ ｈ ａ ｒ ａ ｃ ｔ ｅ ｒ ｓ ◀ ◁
i want three-dimensional originality!
no popular anime. no celebrities. just art.
be reasonable, make your characters look their age.
no magical abilities or perfections.
feel free to take more than one!
▶ ▷ ｐ ｌ ｏ ｔ ｔ ｉ ｎ ｇ ◀ ◁
think up a good course of action for your character.
throw in events that tie in with others.
coordinate with fellow players to plot stuff.
romance is expected and encouraged.
GORE!
▶ ▷ ａ ｐ ｐ ｌ ｉ ｃ ａ ｔ ｉ ｏ ｎ ｓ ◀ ◁
the reserve skeleton is not to be changed, or half-assed.
submit the reserve and profile to me via private message, titled 'honey'.
if you have questions about anything, ask me!
if you do not see a role you want, then ask me if you can make one up and i will more than likely agree to it.
Reserves
[imgleft]100x100 icon[/imgleft]
Title: (who you want to be)
Name:
Age:
Posting Color:
Profiles
[align=center][image here][/align]
[/size][size=12][b][color=YOURCOLORHERE]✕[/color][color=#000000]SEE ME [/color][color=YOURCOLORHERE]BREATHING[/color][color=#000000]?[/color][/b][color=#000000]►[/color][color=YOURCOLORHERE]►[/color][color=#000000]►[color=YOURCOLORHERE]►[/color]
[/size]
[size=10]° [color=#000000]✘[/color][color=#000000][b] What is in a name?[/b][/color] [color=YOURCOLORHERE]►►[/color] [color=darkgray][NAME GOES HERE][/color]
° [color=YOURCOLORHERE]✘[/color][color=#000000][b] Hard to tell the time...[/b][/color] [color=#000000]►►[/color] [color=darkgray][AGE GOES HERE][/color]
° [color=#000000]✘[/color][color=black][b] Who I used to be...[/b][/color] [color=YOURCOLORHERE]►►[/color] [color=darkgray][Former occupation][/color]
° [color=#000000]✘[/color][color=#000000][b] Far from home[/b][/color] [color=YOURCOLORHERE]►►[/color] [color=darkgray][Where you were from][/color]
° [color=YOURCOLORHERE]✘[/color][color=#000000][b] As far as you know, I'm[/b][/color] [color=#000000]►►[/color] [color=darkgray][title here][/color]
[/size][size=12][b][color=YOURCOLORHERE]✕[/color][color=#000000]I AM STILL [/color][color=YOURCOLORHERE]ALIVE[/color][/b][color=#000000]►[/color][color=YOURCOLORHERE]►[/color][color=#000000]►[color=YOURCOLORHERE]►[/color]
[/size]
[size=10]° [color=#000000]✘[/color][color=#000000][b] Knowledge is power[/b][/color] [color=YOURCOLORHERE]►►[/color] [color=darkgray][SKILLS GO HERE][/color]
° [color=#000000]✘[/color][color=#000000][b] In my head[/b][/color] [color=YOURCOLORHERE]►►[/color] [color=darkgray][PERSONALITY GOES HERE AT LEAST 1 PARAGRAPH][/color]
° [color=YOURCOLORHERE]✘[/color][color=#000000][b] How have I lived this long...[/b][/color] [color=#000000]►►[/color] [color=darkgray][BIO GOES HERE AT LEAST 2 PARAGRAPHS][/color]
° [color=#000000]✘[/color][color=#000000][b] My tools of living[/b][/color] [color=YOURCOLORHERE]►►[/color] [color=darkgray][WEAPONS GO HERE, BUT BE REASONABLE.][/color]
° [color=YOURCOLORHERE]✘[/color][color=#000000][b] I walk to a beat[/b][/color] [color=#000000]►►[/color] [color=darkgray][THEMESONG GOES HERE][/color]
[align=right]° [color=darkred]●[/color][color=darkgray][b] There is no higher power...[/b][/color] [color=#000000]»[/color] [color=darkred][b][USERNAME HERE][/b][/color][/align]
[/size][/quote] |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Feb 16, 2011 6:42 am
|
|
|
|
" ｓｏ ｍｕｃｈ ｈａｔｅ ｆｏｒ ｔｈｅ ｏｎｅｓ ｗｅ ｌｏｖｅ.
ｔｅｌｌ ｍｅ, ｗｅ ｂｏｔｈ ｍ ａ ｔ ｔ ｅ ｒ, ｄｏｎ'ｔ ｗｅ?"
the characters
======== ☣ ========
 ｔｈｅ ｓｈａｒｐｓｈｏｏｔｅｒ - Ophelia Lockheart
In the last two years she's become infamous with a gun, to better protect herself and her town from the horrors of the Wastes. The truth is that she's terrified of what's out there. In actuality, she has little experience with the outside world, with zombies, and keeps herself locked up in the small town she helped build. She keeps the bad stuff out so she doesn't have to face it.
Twenty-Two
open :: reserved :: taken by Naughty Pillows
 ｔｈｅ ｓｎｉｐｅｒ - FIRST LAST
She is the sharpshooter's best friend and confidant. The two spend all of their spare time together, cleaning guns, gambling, and practicing their skills. She has been there, out there, in the Wastelands. She came from a darker side of the Wastelands. She settled in the reclaimed and renamed town of New Hope, taking comfort in the name of the town, hoping to find some sort of inner peace from past demons.
Age
open :: reserved :: taken by
 ｔｈｅ ｍｅｄｉｃ - Alina Hughes
She was a nurse or a doctor before the downfall. In the Wasteland, knowing medicinal practices is a rare, if not often times hunted after, ability. She's growing attached to the Stripper more and more as she tries to find a cure for her illness.
Thirty
open :: reserved :: taken by Werewolf Liquor until further notice
ｔｈｅ ｓｔｒｉｐｐｅｒ - First Last
Your friendly, neighborhood stripper. She's spent all of her adulthood dancing for others just to keep herself fed. It's okay though, she's never regretted it. The real problem? She used to be addicted to drugs before the zombies showed up, but for the last two years she's been clean. Now she's starting to get sick. The Medic is trying to find her help, but The Medic may just find more than either of them expected.
Age
open :: reserved :: taken by
 ｔｈｅ ｅｘｐｌｏｓｉｖｅｓ ｅｘｐｅｒｔ - Betlinde "Beti" Kaufmann
She can make an explosive out of the simplest of items. Armed with a grenade launcher and plenty of grenades, she has busted open many once secure vaults for the Scavenger, and the two are tight business partners. Ex-military, her old squad lead is out there, somewhere, looking for her, and she doesn't know it yet. She wishes to teach the people of the Wastes how to survive, starting with the children, whom she adores, and has a connection with the young Slave.
Twenty-nine
open:: reserved :: taken by Werewolf Liquor
 ｔｈｅ ｓｃａｖｅｎｇｅｒ - Anya Volkova
She has been to every corner of the Wasteland and if there's anything you need, anything at all, she is probably the one to turn to. She travels the Wasteland selling her wares. She employs both the runner and the explosives expert to help her obtain her many goods.
Twenty-Three
open :: reserved :: taken by Vicious Bollocks
 ｔｈｅ ｍｅｃｈａｎｉｃ - Rae Normandy
She had always been a tomboy, preferring to get down and dirty instead of making herself up or wearing frilly dresses. When humanity still ran the world she had decided to work on vehicles, and thanks to her the group/caravan never has to travel on foot like others they have come across. She also has a penchant for engineering new technology.
Twenty-Four
open :: reserved :: taken by I Project A L I C E I
 ｔｈｅ ｒｕｎｎｅｒ - Kayta Mirror
Not only is she fast, acrobatic, and sneaky as hell, she's also a great lock pick and hacker. This woman was either a gymnast or sports extremist before the zombie uprising, and may very well have been a thief, too. She's a coveted gem out in the wastes, because she can run along rooftops undisturbed by the zombies and get into any building to loot it. The Survivalist tends to stick nearby where ever she is, and the Scavenger keeps in touch.
Eighteen
open :: reserved :: taken by Skrapz
 ｔｈｅ ｓｕｒｖｉｖａｌｉｓｔ - Lenne Adair
Even before the zombie apocalypse she wasn't your average person. A constant paranoia plagued her, that the s**t was going to hit the fan. She was always ready, for anything, and still is. The wilds are her playground and she is completely self-sufficient. She was a lone nomad until the Runner came along and they taught each other how to survive in different ways.
Twenty-seven
open:: reserved :: taken by Werewolf Liquor
ｔｈｅ ｌｅａｄｅｒ - FIRST LAST
Leader of a raiding gang. She's sadistic and ruthless and always trying to get a hold of the Mechanic. Why? Because when you have transportation out in the Wastes, a means by which to run over the zombie hordes, you are much more powerful. Not to mention she has a bit of a thing for her.
age
open :: reserved :: taken
ｔｈｅ ｐｒｏｐｈｅｔ - FIRST LAST
She wanders the Wasteland preaching. She says she can see both the past and the future of any person she comes across. Is it a scam? No one really knows, but they're making a pretty penny acting as a divine agent. No one dares refute her either, because she's very, very skilled with a sword.
Age
open :: reserved :: taken
ｔｈｅ ｓｌａｖｅｒ - Annadeti Dollas
She deals in humans as property. A nasty business, but those more blessed than other survivors want companions in these desolate times. She travels the Wasteland searching for helpless survivors to capture and take back to the degenerate central, known as Shadow Hill, which is ran by a raiding gang. She secretly has feelings for The Slave, one of the only reasons she keeps her.
Thirty
open :: reserved :: taken by Diabolical Deliriums
ｔｈｅ ｓｌａｖｅ - FIRST LAST
She used to be a student, but when she met the Slaver she had no idea she wasn't going to be saved. She developed a dependency to The Slaver, all because she gives her protection. She is torn between finally making her escape or staying with The Slaver. What she doesn't realize is that she is the first to begin mutating.
age
open :: reserved :: taken
ｔｈｅ ｓｏｌｄｉｅｒ - FIRST LAST
She's a specialist with any weapon, but mostly heavy arms, such as miniguns and bazookas, and is the go to woman for front line assault or personal body guard. Militant and a monster in battle, no one crosses her, especially not the Explosives Expert, the only woman she's ever loved. When zombies showed up, the Explosives Expert bailed and she's been hunting her down ever since.
Age
open :: reserved :: taken
ｔｈｅ ｓｃｉｅｎｔｉｓｔ - FIRST LAST
Some may call her crazy, but in reality she's just trying to better mankind. She wants to stop the infection, but also perfect it to bring out stronger abilities in those infected or control the zombies. Sadly, in her search for a way to better humans, he/she's had to cut a few of them open and infect them with the initial virus that wound up being the end of the world in the first place. She wants the Slave for her next experiment.
Age
open :: reserved :: taken
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Feb 16, 2011 7:14 am
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Feb 16, 2011 8:17 am
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Feb 16, 2011 11:34 am
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Mar 02, 2011 7:22 pm
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Mar 02, 2011 7:56 pm
|
|
|
|
x x x x x x x x x x x x 
x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x ⊰xixSURVIVAL x EXPERT! .! xx x x lenne . adair xixx♦
♦xxxBeneath the brim of a battered brown hat were shadowed a pair of eyes as blue as the waters from a distant shore. With an inhale the face of the young man was illuminated by the burning end of the cigarette. With an exhale smoke rose up out from his nostrils, shrouding his face once more. He was leaning against the side of a shack house that had been built out of the recycled parts of old machinery and other rotting houses that littered the Wasteland. The protective leather outfit he wore over his regular attire had been half-way shed and hung from his waist. The black long sleeved shirt he wore underneath was left unbuttoned, revealing his pale, sweat soaked chest and abdomen. There was another man next to him, an older man, who sat slouched against the side of the building, one arm resting over a bent knee. He, too, was covered in sweat. It was one of those days, when the heat was relentless and the sun bore down on the land. Trees were either dead or next to non-existent in this part of the Wastelands, and the wall they had built around the small town didn't provided shade when the sun was high. The tall figure shifted the cigarette in his mouth, the ash falling to the ground, unhindered in the dry air. That wouldn't last much longer when the seasons shifted, but it was usually hot here. The only real reason anyone had even thought to build the town out in such a desolate part of the rotting world was because of The Filter.
♦xxxA man, no longer amongst the living, had built a water filter that purified the contaminated water. The fresh waters of the world had been polluted from the bombs after the war. The Filter was used by people near and far, for a price, which had helped support the town's growth. They had even began transporting clean water to other settlements in exchange for other goods or currency. The wall had been built to keep out the raiders and mutated animals that would try to invade and either steal The Filter or take it over for their own water supply. The tall man was one of the men who protected The Filter, but believe it or not, this isn't his story. The woman who sauntered on by and slapped the hat right off his head, a long-legged lass with the attitude of a snake - that's who belongs in this story. Not this town, no. Lord no. Lenne wasn't about to stay in one place for too long, especially not in a town that every one else was dying to get in to. Literally. That was the problem with people living in communities, they were easier targets for the masses of undead or raiders. Lenne was a bit more of a loner, and usually only came into town when she needed something she couldn't find, was injured and needed the medic's skills, or needed some liquor. Lenne sure did like her liquor, but it was harder to come by than you'd expect. Besides, she didn't like drinking alone.
♦xxxThis town was located in middle America. The town was called New Hope. Just as it was named, all the hopes and dreams of the generation who had suffered through the undead were prospering here, in the middle of the Wastelands. Lenne, unlike her predecessors, had no hopes, dreams, or wishes for the future. She didn't rightly care. Lenne was as laid back as they came. Alright, so honestly she was paranoid, but she lived in the present and indulged herself in a rather care-free lifestyle, not rightly caring for the town or its inhabitants. She was content to spend the rest of her days wandering the Wastes alone. In all honesty, the trauma she had suffered a few years ago subconsciously scarred her, and Lenne no longer had any ambition to connect with people. Love 'em and leave 'em wasn't even her motto. Survival was all she cared about, even if she had to use these people and their resources to do so. No one was wise to her ways, either. They thought she was a simple drifter, probably a scavenger, because she would always come in with things to barter for medical supplies or booze. Of course, she was never in town for more than a day or two, and usually only hung around the make-shift bar. As soon as the town's supply runner, Kayta, came back, Lenne would be gone again, and for a few months, at that.
♦xxxAlthough it was 'one of those days', Lenne couldn't help but have a twisted feeling in her gut like something was either going to go amazingly wrong or horribly right, and when she felt like that she had the bad habit of picking up a sour mood. She stood with her hands on her strong hips, eying the slim man angrily as he bent over to pick up his hat, the only thing keeping his face from getting burnt. He grumbled the entire time, too. The man that sat on the ground, an older guard, Renard, lifted his hand to shield his eyes from the sun as he looked up at the tall man and the dark-haired woman. He couldn't see his face from where he was sitting, thanks to the shade the hat provided, and that always annoyed Renard. He could barely make out Lenne's face, but knew from the way she was standing who it was.
♦xxx"We got a caravan coming in today, son. Why don't you go stand at the gate when they arrive?" the older gent asked the other guard, though a smirk wrinkled his stubble-covered face. He knew the man was in a heap of trouble if he stayed around Lenne.
♦xxxLenne eyed him warily. Renard was trying to pull a fast one on her. "Hell no! You go get me the painkillers you owe me, Leroy!" Lenne growled. The taller man, not about to argue after losing a few poker games to the woman, left immediately with his tail between his legs. Renard laughed. The Filter was located on a high-rise in the western side of New Hope, so Leroy had to make his way down a winding catwalk to get to the 'Factory', as they called it. From the Factory he had to make his way through the crowd of people in the center of town, pausing for small wagons that were leaving New Hope to deliver fresh water to the other settlements. Lenne, able to see him from where she was leaning against the railing now, watched him like a hawk, sweat beading along her brow as she ignored the heat of the sun. Slowly her eyes trailed from Leroy's bunk to the gate, anticipation growing. She was waiting for Kayta to show up. She hadn't known the girl very long, but for some reason Lenne felt the need to look after the girl, although she could handle herself. She was becoming almost like a younger sister to the tough woman, whose outward attitude was simply to mask the fact that was genuinely a caring person. Caring people, however, didn't tend to survive the Wastes for very long. She was just chalk full of conflicting emotions lately.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Mar 03, 2011 10:58 am
|
|
|
|
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxThe Medicxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxmakes house calls
It was a hard day for the whole town, with the sun beating down so relentlessly. A delicate, nimble hand reached up to wipe the sweat from her forehead, which was trailing down the side of Alina's face. Loose strands of her fiery, red hair were beginning to cling to her skin, especially around her neck, and she felt icky to say the least. A doctor was supposed to be clean. She wiped her hand on her medical coat, of which the sleeves were rolled up, and wiped the sweat from the brow of her patient. It was one of the engineers who had been helping to reinforce the wall. He had suffered a heat stroke, all because he had forgotten to drink enough water. What a silly man. They lived in the most prosperous town in the Wastes and he had forgotten to drink water. Alina felt like slapping him, but she wasn't that kind of person. No, Alina usually just bottled up her emotions and held a constant smile.
The sweat from her brow caused her glasses to slide down her nose. Using the back of her hand, she pushed them back up, before dipping a rag into a basin of cold water. She wrung it out and placed it on the man's head. He was wheezing in his unconscious state and Alina frowned at the sound. She pulled his arm out straight by his side and slipped the needle into his arm, then taped it down to his skin. It was an IV to help him recover. Standing up from where she sat at his side, she tied the IV to a pole attached to the bed and watched the man just breath for a few, dazed minutes. Her hand flew up to her head, realizing she was dizzy, another headache coming on, and she moved to her desk on the other side of the room. There was a bottle of aspirin in the top drawer and she popped open the lid, dumping a few into her hand, then threw two into her mouth. There was water on the desk, and she swallowed it down with the pills, putting the bottle back into its place.
Leaning against the desk, she gave a shaky sigh of her own as she let the dizziness pass, not wanting to risk taking a step and falling, with the chance of busting her head open. She was the only doctor for miles, and she couldn't very well patch herself up if she was unconscious, too. Calling herself a doctor would be a bit of an exaggeration. Alina had only been a nurse before this whole zombie business started up. She was still studying medicine, but she had a long way to go before she received the title of doctor. Her eyes drifted over to the pile of medical books the Runner and the Scavenger had brought her upon request. She had read over every single one of them, and she still didn't feel quite like she should be called doctor, yet everyone in the town insisted upon it. She smiled warmly to herself at the thought, but it had always, honestly, bothered her. Maybe she was just living in the past and needed to let it go. With another sigh, she moved the large fan they kept in the medical bunker toward the man and then moved to the door.
Outside, the heat was more blistering, but inside it was stuffy and claustrophobic. Alina glanced around the town and its many shacks, houses built out of scrap and tin. One man's roof was an old billboard for McDonald's. Alina shook her head and brushed her hair back behind her ear, knowing she'd need a shower later. That was the only luxury they had. Thanks to the Filter, they could take quick showers and the water would be recycled instead of going to waste. Since rainwater was all they could rely on now instead of pipes ran by a company, they had to reuse every drop that they could. The Filter was powerful enough to reuse bath water, instead of getting a taste of soap and everyone else's filth. Knowing the man would take all day to recover, if not more, Alina decided to preoccupy herself with another patient of hers, Melody, and made her way down the catwalk toward the bar, where Melody lived in a room behind their stage. She had a...less appealing lifestyle than Alina cared for, but the men who protected them needed entertainment in some form or another. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Mar 03, 2011 2:32 pm
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Mar 03, 2011 6:12 pm
|
|
|
|
Won't stop running, can't stop running...
 Sixteen seconds: that’s how long it would take for her to arrive, cause one hell of a ruckus, and silently disappear. If a gymnast was considered to be light on her feet, than Kayta the runner was all but floating on air. Many who see her end up recalling to the authorities not a person, but more of a transcendental blur.
Today, however, there was no blur; only a steadily-approaching shape. Be it the hellish heat or the crudely bandaged leg she was, for the moment, slowed to a brisk walk. The rubble under her feet clattered like pebbles falling into a shallow pit. As she neared the wall’s small collective, she held up a red bandana; her unique symbol of peace and pacifism. Guys with guns, she had learned early on, can be easily startled.
”Miss me, bitches?” She halted and smirked at Lenne, ”And lady.”
The young woman had a compact figure, standing maybe about 5’4”, with tufts of smoky black hair escaping her ponytail. A black tank top with the word HELLFIRE printed in red block letters flaunted her shoulders and biceps. Her grayish-tanned skin, ridden with self-described “smog-burns”, was tinted with tribal tattoos that ran down her arm and snaked under her top. She wore a pair of khaki shorts that fell to the top edge of her shins and a pair of white tattered sneakers. Hanging from her shoulder was an old canvas rucksack, which she slid down her arm to her hand.
”Found a relatively intact motel with a couple vending machines in it about seven miles west. Scored some Advil, razors, Band-Aids, mouthwash, dental floss, trail mix, chips, pretzels, a hell of a lot of tiny bottles of shampoo, and...”She looked around for a minute, puzzled. She gave a high-pitched whistle and a large mutt trotted over, a saddle-like object with pouches on either side donning his back.
Kayta flipped open the canvas top of the pouch and pulled out two dusty bottles of whiskey. She tossed one of them to the men, With my compliments, boys. She took the second bottle and handed it to Lenne, ”You look like you could use this. I, on the other hand, need a smoke, and Orion needs some more water.” She smiled at her dog, who was panting excessively and scratching a sore behind his ear. Kayta’s leg wasn’t in the best of shape either, but her nicotine craving was heavily outweighing her pain level.
Kayta Mirror |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Mar 03, 2011 6:45 pm
|
|
|
|
▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄ ▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄
•Anya • 'The Scavenger' • Volkova •
============== ━╃ ╄━ ==============
A study thumping in her head slowly woke up the rust hair colored girl. Her emerald eyes scanned the hazy, dark room. A slight trickle of light cascaded over her floor. She pushed her body up, slowly, the momentum of the night before seeping into her bones. The patched sheets sliding down her body, revealing her naked, bruised skin. Scanning the bed around her a soft sigh escaped her slightly chapped lips. Gone. She leaned back, sitting down slightly as she rubbed her cheek, one arm folding over her bare chest. It wasn't the first time she had woken up, alone, after a night of so called passion. Feeling a slight tug in her chest, and a growing lump in her throat she turned her eyes away from the empty bed, staring at the floor. It was dark, and though all the passion and friction was gone from the room, the smell hung heavy in the air. Like a curtain lowering on her the longer she let the smell drift into her senses. She wrapped a bit of the sheets around her, heading over to the little window and prying it open with her slender fingers. The sunlight burst through, blinding her for a moment.
On the streets below she saw a slight hustle, but nothing like there used to be. During the 'winter' months the commotion was nearly deafening. People running around, selling, buying, trading, and vending anything they could get their grubby little paws on. But unlike her, they didn't have the best. It was cheaply made, badly damaged, and sold for s**t. They didn't know the world like her, their luck was never the same. Their lives were meaningless to her unless they were buying her wares. Anya leaned out the window, closing her eyes just for a moment, letting the sun and the world soak up a moment's glance of her skin. She never would admit it aloud, she wasn't vain, but she told herself she wasn't half bad looking. There was more than one kind of ware people wanted from her, and only a lucky few got the other. Though they normally took, and took, without ever coming back, she continually tried. the one was out there, somewhere...Wasn't she?
Pulling her body back inside and closing the window she let the sheet fall from her body, going around and gathering her tossed clothes, strewn across the baring floor. The heat was all ready beginning to annoy her. Sweat formed, sliding down the curves of her form. One layer of clothes after the other began to soak it up, though it just got worse. She packed most of them away in the large thing she called her warehouse. Just an over-sized military pack with a frame. She wore only a pair of tattered cargo jeans, tucked into the top of her black combat boots, held up by a belt littered with 'O' and 'D' rings, chains and all manner of items hanging from it. Her chest covered with a thin, gray, long sleeved shirt, patched with red plaid and varying amounts of old band logos she had found. A photographers vest, unzipped and covered in all manner of items and chains tied it all together. She hoisted the pack on her strong shoulders, moving from the room without another look. She had paid for the room the night before, all ready missing the money more than she could ever miss the slut who left her there. A silent slur or words escaped her as she exited into the town and down the street, sun beating down on her. She shot the star an angry look before pulling out a little black cadet hat, slipping it over the rust hair. She was headed to the bar for her final goodbyes. She'd been in the town for nearly a week, selling everything she could and buying a good ton of supplies for her next venture.
============== ━╃ ╄━ ==============
" What does it mean to die after you've lived through the death of your world? " |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Mar 04, 2011 4:57 pm
|
|
|
|
Annadeti Dollas - The Slaver
┌❁ ʟɛƭ'ʂ ɠɛƭ σɳɛ ƭɧɨɳɠ ʂƭɑɨɠɧƭ...
She could feel the heat rise as was getting closer to the Wastelands. The closer she got the hotter. There were beads of sweat collecting on her forehead. She swiftly wiped them away and took a swig of her ice water. Annadeti was only a few feet away from the towering gate of the Wastelands. There were strong gusts of winds picking up and blowing the hot dirt in her face. She dreading coming down to the Wastelands. This was the hottest place in the world to her. Shadow Hill was never this hot. Sure it would get hot but not this hot. She could feel her mouth getting dry, her lips were chapped, Annadeti could feel her hair getting dirty. "Ugh." She swung her hair out of her face that was forced there by the winds.
Annadeti was at the gates now and the guards were watching her closely. She smiled at them she showed them a signed of peace. She always got in this way. The tall gates opened slowly. They opened so slowly it was almost a tease. She wished that they would hurry so she could find a place to drink. Water was getting on her nerves. As soon as the gates were open enough to were she could get in she rushed into the crack. She sighed a heavy sigh of relief. Finally she had made it into the place she hated the most. The hottest, dustiest, driest place she could ever think of.
Annadeti moved quickly into a shaded place in between two buildings. She crawled into the back and pulled out her bag, then a long red case. Getting out she closed the door and slung the red case over her shoulders to let it hang losely. "Time to get the day started." She wiped sweat off her brow and pulled out a pad. "I have to get three men and two women." She hung her head then walked lazily into the street. The sun was so hot, she wished she would have thought about bring her hat.
It felt as though the sun was sitting on her shoulder. Annadeti wished she wouldn't have put black on today. She knew she had to travel to the heat dump of a town. She rolled her eyes. Looking around at all the ragged buildings, then half alive trees, and all the tired, weary looking people as they walked past her. She had to find good looking men to take back becuase they would have to work out in the fields and in the factories. And the women were for her own personal entertainment. She grinned then set off for the most important thing to start off the day. A bar. Where would the bar be in this disolent little town? Annadeti looked up the street and then back down to other way. She spoted a young man leaning against a beatened down old tree. She walked up to him, "Where is the bar?" Annadeti had been her times before she would think she would know where the bar was. The young man covered in sweat lifted his arm and pointed to a shack down the road. From were she was the shack had make-shift windows and half a** wooden chairs that sat outside in the cast of the shadow. She nodded to the guy then quickly headed down to the bar.
...ƭɧɨʂ ʀɑɨɳɓσω ɓʊɳɳy ɨʂ ɳσƭ. ❁xx
┘ |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
