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  1. Chickidy
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    Chickidy Contributing Member

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    A Broken World

    Discussion in 'Archive' started by Chickidy, Jun 21, 2008.

    ((Allow me to first say this is a crossover RP form my homies back at NG, if any of you guys see this much love.))

    In 2058 the world is in a sorry state. WW3 has left things in awful condition, the world powers have been shattered by tactical nukes and the smaller nations have been economically crushed due to the failure of the powerful big brother countries they once leached off of. Every nation, every person has seen the worst possible thing they could possibly imagine, just trying to hold on, the earth is fairly devastated but the environment was bouncing back, much in the same way Chernobyl had in years past. The population, about 4 billion still alive, was slowly beginning to rise and world peace seemed a possibility. That was until the unexpected happened.

    2065 an alien spacecraft was sighted over the United states, as well as others over Europe and Asia. The former world powers came together to form a league of planetary defense, strategic nuclear strikes were sent up to shoot the things out of the sky, and the things in the sky returned fire. The earth, barely beginning to recover from an incident that could have been a lot worse, was hit once more. The aliens, a small expeditionary settlement force, was easily routed, but they left much destruction in their wake, and a third fatal blow to the planet no one saw coming. They left behind something.

    Nightmarish alien animals swarmed over the planet, 5 species of animal, causing what many thought irreversible harm to the planet's ecosystem, as well as feasting upon the weak human race. A decade later, they had stabilized in their own niches in the world, and the former human influence on the planet was forever changed. 3 billion remained, forming small confederacies of allied warlords in the wake of such powers as America and China, as well as small kingdoms in the countries not as devastated, places like Africa, Indonesia and southeastern Europe. Paranoid and vying for power, the remnants of earth must rebuild, for in secret a force in the sky is preparing to return . . . stranded alien astronauts hide in the quiet places, calling for reinforcements.

    You are a human, a brave new citizen in this world of 2200. You are just trying to survive as the planet is shifting, taking baby steps on the path of the old world. Ruins of civilizations past tell of great shoes to fill.

    SPECIFICS

    There are guns and medieval weaponry in this RP, a fair ratio of salvaged modern day weaponry and primitive things like muskets and such, as well as cars and ATVs and ships and such, about 30%. 70% is horses, wooden boats, pikes and swords and axes and things like that. So thats it for weapons.

    Thousands of small, warring nations dot the globe, some better off than others, some run by totalitarian kings, some run by a council of warlords, each commanding a well established city state and its respective territory. Some may be as large as Texas, some may be as small as a single city. I'm not going to lay down every single location for you, but if you do decide to come up with one be detailed and realistic, as well as corresponding with the ones I've already laid out.

    RULES

    Godmoding is an obvious no no, if I catch any frozen stasis soldiers in military bases waking up with superhuman abilities and futuristic weapons, I'm going to ask a mod remove it, your human, act like it.

    You start in one of three places, California, The East Coast of America near the ruins of NY, or London. I will describe them if and when this game is approved, so no posting until then (except for characters, of course)

    Spamming and flaming is a no no.

    Effortless posts are unacceptable, if you try I'll be able to tell, but if there is absolutely no effort put into it I'll ask a mod to remove it. We are all here to improve our writing and have a little fun while we're at it, you don't have to be the greatest writer ever, you just need to try.

    Control of other peoples characters is acceptable if it is done reasonably and with their permission, but if there is a back and forth going on for the sake of less clutter I will allow some control, unless the person specifies that they don't want it. Be reasonable, no suicides or big revealing speeches or anything like that.

    The character template is as follows.

    Name: (has to be real, first and last, possibly middle, and a nickname if need be.)

    Age: (Must be above 18. No fricking 9 year olds walking around, get me?)

    Location: (Be specific, present day country, state, county, and nearby city, maybe not there in the game but for the sake of specifics . . . its not that hard, google images and wikipedia have some pretty good maps if you search properly)

    Appearance: (Your human, so nothing crazy, include clothing as well.)

    Gear: (Weapons, tools, etc . . . pretty simple.)

    Skills: (Combat, survival and conventional please, this is an RP so you must be making a living somehow, are you a doctor, a chef, a hunter, whatever. So be specific.)

    Personality: (Pretty self explanatory, but I don't want to see a lot of the cliched quiet bad asses around here, be creative please.)

    Brief history: (Born where, this is the part where you can get creative with the games countries and such, as well as how was their childhood, family, and the like.)

    Alright thats about it. If and when this game gets accepted I'll post location descriptions as soon as a certain number of people have signed up. I shall keep the story moving by playing one character (as a sort of example) as well as controlling world events, countries, leaders, etc. Feel free to do some of that yourselves, but nothing too big please.

    I promise to you to be the best GM I can be, but remember I am human and have my own things going on. I'll try to inform you of when I'll be gone and I'll try my hardest to check and post as many times as I can manage a day.
     
  2. Raven
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    Raven Banned

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    Game Approved.
     
  3. Chickidy
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    Chickidy Contributing Member

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    Name: Benjamin Freeman

    Age: 28

    Location: Near the mouth of the Connecticut R.

    Appearance: 6', long, short blond hair and a short beard, hazel eyes, slightly overweight but in pretty good shape, pretty muscular. He wears light green fatigues and a helmet as well as hiking boots, as well as a large vest where all of his ammunition and effects are stored.

    Gear: A large hunting knife in a leather sheath, bound to his waist. A 12 gauge shotgun and about 30 shells.

    Skills: A great shot, pretty good with the knife, and a sailor. Mostly a soldier, has heavy infantry training and knows how to fight.

    Personality: A nice enough sort, pretty fond of joking around, can get flaky in high pressure situations, but most of the time he's able to deal with it.

    Brief history: Born in Green Bay, golden city of the Midwest where he joined the mariners guild, an association of Merchant-men-of-war and their personal armies, the Green Bay Marines. His father, Mark Freeman, was one of the traders so he was admitted immediately, taking a position as a soldier on one of his father's ships headed out to Europe.

    The Green Bay, or land of the lakes, is a kingdom under the command of Jens Hassmund, and has a very Germanic heritage. It is the largest nation in the Midwest, consisting of Most of Wisconsin, Western Michigan, parts of southern Canada, and eastern Minnesota. The Capital is Green Bay, where the King lives. It is a major port city on the lakes, which are mainly controlled by Green Bay. The kingdom has been going into decline as internal issues continued to raise up, so Green Bay gets what she needs by playing big brother to smaller nations, taking what they want as prize. The power of the Green Bay is her navy, which is partially the king's professional fleet, mostly though, the initiative falls on the large community of ship owning traders who are quite akin to the Merchant men of war from 16th century Elizabethan society. They travel all around the globe, taking part in forced trade and slavery on far away shores, as well as policing the waters of theirs and their allies waters. The king and his upper class are the sole governing body of the Green Bay, and are at good relations with most of their neighbors to the south and west as well as the German and Scandinavian Confederacies.
     
  4. Wreybies
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    Wreybies The Ops Pops Operations Manager Staff Contest Administrator Supporter Contributor

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    Location:
    Puerto Rico
    Name: Mario Rodriguez

    Age: 37

    Location: Beacon, New York

    Appearance: 5' 7". Olive skin. Well muscled, but not super hero rediculous. Of Puerto Rican decent

    Gear: Machete & long bow

    Skills: Master log home builder. Reforestation has made this a lucrative career for Mario and his father. His specialty lies in creating homes with safe rooms and hidden access to underground escape which blend into the landscape. Life is tough in the post apocolyptic future. Mario is also an excelent marksman with the long-bow.

    Personality: Very easy going. Fiercely loyal. Very proud of his Latino heritage.

    Brief history: Born within the ruins of Beacon along the Hudson River Valley. The reforestation of the area after the fall of man made a niche for his father who was also a master log home builder. His familie's skills are renounded up and down the Hudson River Valley. Mario's mother died when Marion was young. She fell victim to an attack from one of the off-world monstrosities. The Hudson River Valley is heavily populated by the off world creatures and plants. Communities of humans are very small and thinly spread. Mario is conflicted by his love for the beauty of the Hudson River Valley, and his wish to travel and see the home of his ancestors, the fabled island of Puerto Rico.

    p.s. This is my first RPG, so if I goof up, please just guide me in the right direction. I am very receptive to any help! :D
     
  5. Chickidy
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    Chickidy Contributing Member

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    Looks pretty good to me, your accepted.

    Also I have decided to make a map, one of North America and shortly one of Europe, to give you an idea of what its like. I will update it often with your and my creations.

    [​IMG]

    The Key is as follows

    Black:The Kingdom of the Green Bay

    Yellow:The Confederacy of Hermosillo

    Purple:The Kingdom of Hispaniola

    Light Green:The Confederacy of Sothland

    Red:The Confederacy of Benito

    Orange:The Confederacy of Shalska

    Teal:The Confederacy of Costen

    Dark Green:The Kingdom of Hudson

    Brown Spot on Hispaniola:European Hub of Cabarete

    The Hub is an internationally maintained port city where ships from the Eastern Hemisphere come to when making the Atlantic Crossing, just as London is the Hub for Western Ships coming to the East. All the most important nations give soldiers and funds to keep them running, they are rich both economically and culturally.
     
  6. starsailor
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    quick question,on the intro it says 'You start in one of three places, California, The East Coast of America near the ruins of NY, or London' will one of them be our location?
     
  7. Tsukuru
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    Tsukuru Contributing Member

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    Name: Steve Roberts

    Age: 26

    Location: Currently in the woods outside of San Diego. He's not sure what empire it is, he hasn't followed the politics of the world since he left it to start hunting years earlier.

    Appearance: 5'10", 175 pounds, skinny with toned, but not bulging, muscles. Tattered baggy brown pants, tight brown T-shirt. Messy, unshaven beard mixed with long, dirty hair. A couple leaves and/or twigs can often be found in the bird nest he calls his head. He has two belts, one he uses to hold up his pants and one that he has strapped from his right shoulder, across his chest, down to his left hip. He uses the second one to hold his equiment and supplies.

    Gear: Short composite bow, 20arrows, quiver for the arrows, 3 inch swiss army knife, a hammer, flint, a sharpening stone, a map, a compass, two cantines, one that he filled with water every chance he got, the other he filled with whiskey whenever he stopped at a town.

    Skills: Good shot with a bow(he's a hunter), he can make his own arrows out of stone and wood. He sleeps very lightly and has good reflexes, it's how he survives as a nomad. He is also very good at climbing trees.

    Personality: Generally a loner, but at the same time gets himself into trouble trying to save others from danger when he sees them. He has almost no sense of humor, and is often very pessimistic and depressed. He stays away from civilization because he resents it.

    Brief history: Born in New England, Steve grew up as a fletcher with his father; his mother died giving birth to him. Their shop was located in a town right on the border of Costun and Hudson. During a territorial dispute, Steve and his father were ordered to make weapons for the Hudson troops. The next day, Costun raided the town and destroyed their shop, killing Steve's father in the process. Steve was 17 at the time. Steve was then taken prisoner and forced into serving the Costun army for a couple of years before he escaped during a retreat from a loss to Hudson. From then on, he roamed through the woods and between towns on his own, hunting and then offering his trade at towns in return for supplies and then moving on to the next one. After several years, he had made his way across the country and was now in the woods outside of San Diego, in need of supplies.
     
  8. Chickidy
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    Chickidy Contributing Member

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    A BROKEN wORLD

    Starting Locations:​

    California, once a major state of the US, well developed and heavily populated, is now covered in dense pine forests and divided between three warring factions, Benito, Shalska and Sothland. (REFER TO MAP) Sothland, an age old enemy of Benito, is on the war path, its armies beginning to make there advance into Benito's lightly fortified border villages, while to the north Shalska strengthens its own borders with haste, turning its back on its once good friend, Benito. It is a land where great things are about to happen, a bloody war and mysterious hands pulling strings from far away.

    Alien animals:

    The Helldeer, a strange herbivore covered in red fur, with a scaly black face, 3 rows of eyes, and twisted horns rather than antlers. The horns have properties similar to gunpowder when grounded up, and is thusly named a helldeer for its demonic appearance. Docile until threatened, the animals stay away from civilization, reclusive to the pine forests that now stretch across California, the beast's horn is a major commodity as is its stringy, tough meat a major staple for the hardy people of the Californian Confederacies.

    The Malhoont, a wolfpack creature, is about 2 feet tall and stands on four legs. It has leathery black skin and 4 beady little eyes. It has a body structure similar to a dog, but no tail, and its face is fairly unique. It has two rows of sharp teeth beneath its lips and its mouth is slightly elongated like that of a crocodile. The malhoont roams in very territorial packs of about 8, give or take, and is structured much in the same way of a wolf pack, with a very linear totem pole of authority. There behavior is mostly unknown, as all anyone sees of these beasts is when they decide to hunt.

    The Trundler, also known as the lumberjack, is a large omnivore that inhabits heavily forested regions, both tropical and temperate. The beast is the size of an adult elephant and lives twice as long, covered in a thin, hairless pink skin through which there bone structure is easily seen, they inspire fright wherever they go. Extremely touchy and violent, the trundler is know as the lumberjack for its two massive, thin but strong, and extremely sharp tusks that it uses to carve paths through the forested region it lives in. The meat on the creature is immensely poisonous, the carcass of one is able to poison a water supply quickly and efficiently, with this in mind the beast has no predators, but rather is on the top of the food chain, eating everything it can find. However, they mate very seldom and males often fight to the death for a mate, the victor often not living very long. At the peak of their life, about 150 years old, the males, slightly larger, can actually be about 2 stories tall. They are dreaded by all humans, feared and avoided at all costs.
    _____

    The once great metropolis of New York City and the surrounding areas were hit hard by the aliens when they arrived, and nature has done little to repair the region, forests now just barely beginning to spring up amongst the old ruins which cover miles of the Atlantic coast. Its two factions are the Kingdom of Hudson, largest of the two, and the Confederacy of Costen. (REFER To MAP) Hudson was formed by a strong figurehead who united the two old confederacies that once stood in the kingdoms place. Long dead, the old king's legacy has fallen on hard times as it competes with the smaller, but aggressive confederacy of Costen, whose warlords are hungry for the valuable, radiation free farmland inside of Hudson's borders. Both powers have little in the way of ground forces, mostly being sea born nations, seeing as what little land they have access to is mostly filled with radiation, though Hudson has begun farming recently.

    Alien animals:

    The Helldeer (SEE ABOVE)
    _____

    I've decided to remove London from the starting locations, in favor of having everyone start on the same continent. For the two who have already signed up, feel free to start on your own little side plots for now. This is pretty freeform so anything goes (within reason) and soon I'll make the opening plot post if it looks like people are joining, so cross your fingers.
     
  9. Wreybies
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    Wreybies The Ops Pops Operations Manager Staff Contest Administrator Supporter Contributor

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    Location:
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    Mario set down his hatchet and glanced over his work with an approving eye. The house fit snuggly into the side of a river bank and was completely invisible. A small rock formation at the top of the hill hid the chimney stack and other ventilation conduits. Hollow trees with carefully salvaged panes of precious glass fitted into their tops provided light during the day. This house was for Mario’s sister and her new husband, Jeff. He had taken special care to ensure that this was his finest project. The internal structure would hold up to almost anything save a fight between trundler males.

    Mario dearly loved his sister, Maria. She looked so much like their mother. Mario felt a sadness well in his chest that his mother did not live to see her daughter get married and have a fine home to protect her and the many children she would hopefully have. Jeff was a good man, level headed, hardworking and dependable. A good provider with a loving and gentle attitude toward Maria. He wasn’t the handsomest man, but such things counted for little these days in the Hudson Valley. Mario approved of the choice and had begun work on their home in earnest. This would be the last thing he could do for his family before starting his journey.

    Puerto Rico was to the south within the kingdom of Hispaniola, and calling him more loudly with every day.
     
  10. Undefined
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    Name: Gideon Duvall 'Desert Rat'

    Age: 20

    Location: San Jose, California = The Confederacy of Benito

    Appearance: Five feet nine inches when standing straight but he usually slouches a few inches shorter. His skin is a dark mocha color due to the desert sun even under the loosely wrapped layers of various faded colors that circle his body. When uncovered he has shaggy brown hair and usually a stubble-beard.

    Gear: Three knives on his belt, one large as a tool and two smaller for weapons. A bolt action Winchester .30-06 rifle currently with eight rounds, the rifle has seen better days but it is in fine working condition. A full water bladder made out of unknown animal hide. A travelers pack containing a small amount of coin accepted in nearby towns, a hand-drawn map of the area, a straight razor and mirror, and two animal calls.

    Skills: Tracking, hunting, and game preparation. He can play the piano pretty well if need be and has a decent singing voice. He has a lot of first hand experience in survival training for the desert and arid regions so he is a valued scout for the region.

    Personality: Gideon likes to listen to people but has to be prodded to talk. He spends most of his time alone when not working for an outfit or selling game so he is not the best at social situations. Due to his rather clumsy handling of people and crowds he prefers to stay quiet rather than draw attention to himself. One on one is another story entirely, he will talk until he is blue in the face and loves to hear about everything from the flood six years ago to how the neighbors dog had puppies.

    Brief history: Gideon was born in the Nevada desert to a band of nomads and gypsies. His father, like all the men in the caravan, was a hunter as well as paid scout for local powers. His mother on the other hand was actually a local girl from Reno who happened to fall in love with a Desert Rat. He lived his life constantly on the move, working for one warlord one week and then killing them the next. They went where the work was. That was until his mother decided that the Desert Rat lifestyle was no longer for her and took Gideon, who was then fifteen years old back to the city that had settled in the ruins of Reno. A couple of years later the caravan of Desert Rats came through town and Gideon was given his fathers rifle with the news of a hunt gone wrong. Gideon traveled with the Desert Rats for a while but found that he was an outsider there as well as he was in town so he decided to venture into the Confederacy of Benito to see if what he could make for himself.
     
  11. Shadow Dragon
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    Shadow Dragon Contributing Member Contributor

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    Location:
    In the land of the gods
    Name: Reaver 'Angel of Death'

    Age: 23

    Location: In the woods outside of what used to be Oakland.

    Appearance: He stands five foot, ten inches tall. He wears chainmail armor and a white cloak that covers most of his body. He has dark blue eyes and long black hair. He has a scar over his left eye. He weighs 145 pounds and has a very lean build. He has two sheaths on his back, one over his right should and the other on the left side of his hip, to carry his swords Has a small sheath on the right side of his hip, inside his cloak, to carry his dagger.

    Gear: Two silver swords. A small black dagger. A sniper rifle that he salvaged from an old army base. A money pouch on the inside of his cloak.

    Skills: Has incredible reflexes. Can move very fast. He is a pretty good shot with his sniper rifle. Will stay hidden for as long as it takes to ambush his prey.

    Personality: He is very sarcastic. He doesn't trust people very easily. He hates it when rulers abuse their power and he has a strong hatred towards slavers and anyone who helps them. He shows no mercy towards his enemies.

    History: Reaver isn't his real name. He doesn't know his name. When he was a kid, slavers attacked his village and he was the only survivor. He has no memories from before the attack. Ever since then he has had to rely on his own strength for survival. Once he became skilled as a fighter, he became a mercenary and assassin. Due to his reputation for killing anyone that becomes his enemy, he has earned the nickname "the Angel of Death".
     
  12. Tsukuru
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    Tsukuru Contributing Member

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    Steve opened his eyes, sat up, and stretched. He was stiff and sore from staying in the same position against a hard object: a tree branch. He rolled off the side of the branch, grabbing hold with his hands to swing forward, jump, and hit the ground rolling. He stopped for a moment and listened, making sure no one and nothing was approaching him, then walked to the bottom of his tree and gathered his belongings. He shook and squeezed the last few drops of whiskey out of his cantine as he removed his map and compass from his pocket. Once he finished reassuring himself that he was headed towards civilization, he continued his trek towards San Diego.
     
  13. Shadow Dragon
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    Location:
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    Reaver leaves the forest and enters the capital city of Benito. As he walks he hears a woman screaming behind him, "Somebody help, he stole my purse." He can hear the steps of someone running upto him. As the thief runs by, Reaver unsheaths his sword and cuts the man's arm off. The thief falls the the ground, screaming in agony. Reaver picks up the purse from the severed hand. He walks to the woman and hands to purse to her. "I believe this is yours, correct?" says Reaver. "Um...yeah." says the woman, still in shock after seeing the thief get his arm cut off. Reaver hands the woman her purse and continues to walk. He goes to the council building. Inside the top warlords of Benito are talking with a large group of mercenaries.

    "If you all stop the first wave of attack, you'll become rich men." says the head of the council. Reaver walks to the front of the mercenaries and looks at the council. "So you plan to throw a bunch of pitiful beserkers at their frontline in hopes of slowing them down. Sothland's army will rip them apart. At best you might get a extra day with this plan." says Reaver. The head of the council looks at Reaver and says "So the angel of death has finally arrived. I have a special assignment for you. Follow me." as he walks to another room. Once the two of them enters the room, the head of the council closes the door. He says "This map shows where General Logan's battalion will enter our territory. I want you to eliminate them." "Consider it done." says Reaver as the leaves the room.
     
  14. Chickidy
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    Chickidy Contributing Member

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    Location:
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    Two men sat at a table in the center of the room, one of them, a man with short black hair and a fine suit, the king Jens Hassmund, the other, a man with nearly identical features, his brother. The green curtains were drawn, the only light coming from the several lights around the old dusty room, giving the already dark red wallpaper an even darker feel. Jens was relaxed, his ass in the middle of a black leather love seat on one side of the table, his arms lying limp at either side of his body, a big fat smile on his face and a big long line of coke on the table in front of him. His brother was the opposite, tense and all business, on a twin love seat with a big stack of papers on his side of the table.

    "So so so, what is the word mein bruder?" He said in a fast paced tone, shaking his head with each syllable. He cracked his knuckles and sat forward, threw his head to the table and sniffed the entire line in one motion, a tiny drop of blood falling from his nostril, landing on the collar of his red dress shirt.

    In a worried tone, his brother said, "Jens I wish you would quit that habit, its killing you-"

    "**** you!" he shouted back, "You don't understand anything Holger, you never did, idiot of the family. Back the hell off, alright?" He reached for a cigar on the table, sifted through his pocket and found a box of matches.

    As he lit the torpedo, his brother said, "Alright, but my name is Hal now, this isn't Germany Jens, no matter how much you wish it was. Speaking of which, Mr. Freeman is sending a ship there to get a quick resupply before heading south, Africa."

    Jens jumped and laughed out loud, smoke jetting from in between his lips. "That **** hole! A slaving expedition no doubt, all that place is good for, to chaotic now a days, ever since the confederacies fell apart-"

    "You should know brother, you signed the approval documents." Hal remarked with disgust. He looked down at the table, well finished, beautiful, covered with tiny bits of whit dust. Jerking his head up and pointing at Jens, he said, "I keep telling you to quit that ****, its bad enough that its expensive the way you go through it, but its messing with your head."

    Squeezing the cigar between his lips and raising both hands, he said in an all knowing tone, "Holger, Holger, I am fine, F, I, N, . . . **** . . ." he put a hand to his forward for a minute while his brother waited. "E! Thats it, FINE, so there you go, its all cool, totally prima, no need to worry. So just chill the **** out, I sign hundreds of things every day, no need to freak out. Why did you tell me if I already knew anyway?"

    "It was a test, you couldn't even spell . . . fine, whatever, but we talk about this later when your head clears up ok?" Jens shook his head in agreement, taking a drag with one hand and motioning for Hal to continue with the other. "Alright, good, now back to business. Theres a bit of trouble in California . . .


    * * * Elsewhere * * *​

    A small wooden ship glided along the coast silently in the bright morning sun, a flag of green flying proudly from the 4 masts. It was about 3000 feet long, made of wood with a steel frame, a massive bark with a fairly small crew, as few as necessary given the losses expected on the voyage, as they would need all the room they could manage. She was the Happy Raven, one of the Freeman ships, and she was looking for a place to water before setting out to sea, and seeing as she was near Manhattan, the best place was the Connecticut River.

    A man of no small dignity stood in front of 3 others, GB marines, in full Olive Drab uniform, two were empty handed, the third, Benjamin Freeman, held a shotgun, a nice one at that, one hand tightly wrapped over the fore-end, the other gripped the trigger.

    "Alright then," said the man in front, an officer, "You know what your doing, at least two of you do," they all laughed and Freeman got a friendly, light jab in the ribs. "Thats enough now, Peters and Goldberg are going to be filling the tanks in the boat so we don't get thirsty, and Ben, you just watch and see how its done. The only reason you have a weapon is to scare off any Costen boys who come sniffing around, word travels fast around here so we water up and leave fast. Somethings been riling them up lately, no risks." The three marines nodded and walked to the edge of the ship, now still in the calm water. The soldier, Peters, tossed a rope ladder over the edge and into the vessel waiting for them, a little motor boat, 20 feet long, with a big hump in the middle. The three climbed down into it and after a moment, the motor roared to life and they headed toward shore.
     
  15. Undefined
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    Gideon looked out over the field of grazing cows and sighed. This was work and this work paid, not to mention the ranch provided shells for his rifle and a place to sleep each night. The only problem was that it was incredibly boring.

    Malhoont had pushed wolves closer to the ranches and the livestock needed protection. The wolves would eventually get to the cows but they would probably go after the herds of sheep before they got really desperate. The livestock was safe for now mainly because these cows were fenced in. If they were roaming free then there was more of a chance of loosing one or two.

    “Ever wonder why sheep are called sheep?”
    Gideon asked the sleeping dog beside him.

    The dog lifted its head and cocked it to the side.

    “Well, think about it.”
    Gideon turned to talk to face the dog. “A cow is a cow, it says moo. You know cow, moo.” He said the last two words slowly. “They kind of bring the same thing to mind, but sheep doesn’t fit with a sheep does it? La-amb, Ra-am, and baa all go together but sheep doesn’t.”

    The dog scratched its ear and then went back to sleep. It was so hard to have a conversation these days
     
  16. Ohmytheoctopus
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    Ohmytheoctopus Member

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    Name: Aristotle Luther Schofield (Scarecrow)

    Age: 22

    Location: unnamed dense pine forest outside The Confederacy of Shalska, steeling himself for civilization.

    Appearance: Short black hair, ice blue eyes, compactly muscled. About 5’9”, 150 lbs. Wears green army fatigues with a black hooded vest over a dark blue long-sleeved shirt. Fingerless gloves, black combat boots, sometimes wears a dark red toboggan.

    Gear: Carries a worn red backpack. He doesn’t have a signature weapon. He uses whatever is at hand so he won’t have to carry it around. Two knives, one sharp, one blunt to use on skins. Coins (he doesn’t know, but they’re worthless).

    Skills: He’s an excellent cook, when given the tools. Main skill is repairing ancient technology, collects electronic odds and ends, such as memory cards, plugs, cell phone batteries. Skilled mechanic. He can handle himself fairly well in a fistfight.

    Personality: He’s been alone a little too long. Timid, tries to avoid confrontation. Doesn’t speak often, because he has a stutter. When he does speak, he talks slowly, which gets on people’s nerves. He doesn’t sleep much, maybe two hours a night, because he has horrible nightmares.

    Brief history: Born in what used to be Terre Haute, Indiana. He and his family farmed outside the city ruins until drought and wildfires forced them to migrate. His two young sisters died during the journey, leaving his mother mentally unstable. She killed herself three months later, when Aristotle was 14. He and his father traveled west, foraging and dodging slavers and alien beasts. On Aristotle’s sixteenth birthday, they were ambushed by slavers. Since their slave-hold (an ancient tractor-trailer) was full to the brim, the slavers tied Aristotle and his father scarecrow style to wooden crosses. On the third day, the Malhoont came and killed his father. Aristotle had worked his feet free and held himself out of reach as he watched the beasts devour his father. On the fifth day, a group of nomads passed the carnage and came to scavenge. They were shocked when they realized the remaining scarecrow was still alive. He was in shock from his ordeal, and couldn’t tell them who he was or where he was from. They named him Scarecrow and nursed him back to health. Since then, Scarecrow has made his way to what used to be California, trying to put his past behind him.
     
  17. Chickidy
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    Chickidy Contributing Member

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    ((OOC: Alright Just so there is no confusion, if I don't say anything about your profile, its perfectly fine, if I say something about it, its not perfectly fine.))
     
  18. Shadow Dragon
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    Shadow Dragon Contributing Member Contributor

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    As Reaver Headed towards the border between Benito and Sothland, he heard a noise in the distance. He quickly climbed a tree and grabbed his sniper rifle. Through the scope he could see a scout that was wearing a Sothland military outfit. "Must be mapping out the terrain, to help the invasion." thinks Reaver. Reaver lines up the shot and pulls the trigger. The bullet got the scout right between the eyes. Reaver gets down and continues to head towards his target, Sothland's General Logan.
     
  19. Ohmytheoctopus
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    Scarecrow woke with a start. Brushing the dew out of his eyes, he sat up and scanned the area. It was generally quiet, although he could hear a lumberjack in the distance. He dropped from the fork in the tree he had been sleeping in. Slinging his pack over his shoulder and tugging his toboggan over his ears, he set off. The frosty, pre-dawn air was making his bones ache, but it also shocked him into alertness. A bird screamed overhead and Scarecrow jumped. Grinning ruefully at himself, he continued, his steps muffled by the heavy scattering of pine needles.
     
  20. Chickidy
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    Chickidy Contributing Member

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    * * * Sothland * * *

    Five men stood around a circular table in a room with many windows somewhere outside of LA. It was bright and sunny outside, the massive old pines clearly visible from the second story perspective. The building was large, a complex, one of many, but the room itself was simple, tasteful, and full. Aside from the table, well finished pine from a church somewhere, there were couches against the walls, big 4 person benches with leather cushions, filled with people quietly sitting in on the 5 center stage. Plants were in between each couch, cacti, easy to maintain, and they added a pleasant, homey feel to the room.The double doors were shut, outside in the hall they were flanked on either side by armed guards in light green fatigues, eyes forward, shoulder weapons. The carpet was peach and the walls were white, the people who sat on the couches wore a variety of things, officer jackets, suits, a few even wore casual blue polos and khaki pants, but the five in the middle each wore a three piece, the same black coat, white shirt and brown vest with well shined wingtips.

    They were the warlords, men of dignity, men of power and men of ambition. They stood around a table which had (aside from 5 separate brandy old fashions) a map of California on it, a meeting of the rulers of the land, a meeting to decide war actions. Bruno Savage from Baja, Tuleo Gueed from LA, Sam Thulls from San Diego, Ugene Pullets from Western Arizona, and finally Logan Tslocks from San Bernadino. The five had been discussing the war for nearly half an hour, everyone agreeing with Logan the warhorse, an old man, gray haired and wrinkled, who fought in 3 different conflicts and was the senior member of the Warlord Concubine. That was until someone showed up.

    "We must get more people to sign up, I don't like dealing with slavers in the east, we're in enough debt as it is," said Mr. Thulls, the crowd behind him shaking their heads silently.

    "I know you must feel that way Samuel, but the people of Los Angeles have given more than enough, soon there won't be enough boys left to tend the fields," replied Tuleo, both hands on the table, leaning forward, both un-trusting eyes placed squarely on his colleague from San Diego. "We have to keep contacts in the east if we are to win this war, lest our economy shrink to such a size that we can't even repay the debt we are already in." Many of the same heads who shook for Sam made the same motion at this remark.

    Logon spoke now, raising both hands in a calming manner, silencing all. "My friends, please, we can all agree that both arguments bring forth good points, but agreement and action are two different things, and it is my honest belief that we should-" A ruckus rose outside the doors, muffled talking, a few shouts, and finally two thuds. The doors opened and in walked a man in a gray suit, at either side of him stood soldiers in Olive Drab, Ak47's cradled in their arms.

    "Gentlemen," said the newcomer in a smug fashion, "I come on behalf of his kingship, Jens Hassmund to see that the best interests of the crown are kept until payment has been sent." The room was immediately filled with outraged chatter as men jumped to their feet.

    Mr. Savage himself, his plump face flushed with anger, yelled, "You are not one of Soth soil! You have no right to be amongst us!"

    One soldier raised his gun in and fired into the ceiling 4 times, quieting the lot of them. The man in the gray suit spoke again. "Until you have repaid what you owe I have as much right as any to state the opinions of the crown, lest you wish more than a pair of diplomatic escorts rampaging about you territory." he finished with a sinister smile . . .


    ((Summary: Sothland is more aggressive, California is more dangerous now.))
     
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