Futuristic A F T E R M A T H [OPEN]

[Greater Soul Gem]

March 29th, 2093

How did the world become so miserable? How did we, Humanity, become so weak and violent? Or... were we always violent? Nobody is sure what happened. Was it a nuke, or global warming, or a chemical weapon? But the most important question is, will the world go back to the way it was? Or is there no turning back?

Bandits, mutants, stray survivors and factions roam the post-apocalyptic Michigan. They're either surviving, ending the survival of others or failing to survive themselves.

You are one of the 2 million Humans living in the state of Michigan, bandit or survivor. Or you're one of the thousands of mutants that inhabit the wastes, either one of the few sentient and peaceful ones or the majority of feral monstrosities. War between the factions is starting to rise. Nobody really talks about it, but everybody knows deep in their hearts things are about to get much, much worse.

But before you start, before your story begins, remember one thing:
"If survival were a game, the losers would die, with no retry button."

CS
https://www.rpnation.com/threads/a-f-t-e-r-m-a-t-h-cs.330010/
OOC
https://www.rpnation.com/threads/a-f-t-e-r-m-a-t-h-ooc.330012/
Factions
https://www.rpnation.com/threads/a-f-t-e-r-m-a-t-h-factions.330030/​

 

[Greater Soul Gem]

F Feit Raku Acrylic Shog Pacificus FabulousTrash T TheRockInception StarryKnights CrimsonEclipse

-{NEWPORT}-

Eric sat at his desk in the President's office. The wall had a few scratches and marks but not a lot, and was painted white. The furniture was a little dusty and scrappy but good compared to anything you'd find in the wastelands. He spun his pen and awaited for news about the invasion of Michigan. Communication was slow but he was expecting something to come at least today.

And so on about 2 hours he received a knock on his door. The man turned his head to the door almost instantly. "Come in," he replied. A courier, followed by an NC soldier carrying a shotgun entered the room. "Sir, it's news from Michigan. The CAM seems to be organizing a group of militia and the scouts predict an attack this weekend on Port Austin. What are your orders?"

The courier stopped speaking and Eric stopped spinning his pen. He took the time to think about the next move. He knew the CAM had a sizeable army, but they were mostly untrained. "Ambush them. Set up a trap near the outskirts of the city, they'll never see it coming. And be quick on this message. Get it there in under a day." He knew it was impossible but he needed to at least intimidate them into hurrying. The courier nodded. "Understood," he obediently replied. Then, the soldier escorted him out of the room and closed the door shut.​

 

[Feit]

Lindsey was hunkered down behind the remains of some convenience store, sitting with her back propped up against a dumpster. She hardly even registered putrid smell of decayed animals and rotten remains emanating from the garbage. Such scents were the norm now, she probably smelled like that herself.

She sat with her legs spread a little over hip's width apart, with a half-eaten can of tuna in front of her. In one hand, she had a small lighter, while in the other she held up a tattered book titled Survival Tips: The Ultimate Guide to Making it Alive by some no-name author, likely written decades ago. Some nomad had given the book to her, but she hadn't been able to make a lot of sense of it. It was torn and filthy, with pages fluttering out every time she opened it. Lindsey was having trouble making sense of it.

“God damn,” she said aloud, to no one in particular. “This is harder than it looks.” She had been trying to fashion a burner out of her can and some miscellaneous supplies, to no avail. Her gaze switched between the faint diagram on the page and her own project. It looked similar enough, but for some reason hers just didn't have that spark, she couldn't get it to sustain a light for more than a few seconds.

She attempted to start another fire, bending over the can and carefully lighting the wick she had fashioned atop of it. For a moment it lit up, then died out just as quickly.

Lindsey let out her frustrations in a sharp sigh as she tossed the book aside and pushed the can away from her with her foot. If it's not gonna work, it's not gonna work. No use in agonizing on it all day. Her stomach was rumbling, she had better find something to eat, and soon. She reached over to grab her backpack and rummaged through it, looking for something edible. Eventually she found what she thought was a granola bar, opened the package, and took a bite.

This whole “traveling by herself” thing was not working out. For someone whose family had supposedly been prepping for this kind of situation their whole lives, Lindsey was woefully unprepared. But she didn't think she'd have to go it alone. Nevertheless, here she was to fend for herself. She wouldn't allow herself to dwell over her circumstances, it was too much of a bummer.

 

[Pacificus]

Location: North of Cass City, Michigan.

Wesley was relaxing on the roof of a decayed car that sat atop a short bridge over a creek. Its windows were gone and any upholstery had long since rotted away, but its slightly caved roof made for a nice resting place. He had been walking for hours. His destination was Detroit. He was headed south, away from the tip of the peninsula. Some NC troops had moved into Port Austin and he didn't want anything to do with them. Unless, of course, he was being paid to. From what he'd observed, they were trained and professional. They took the town with little opposition and next to no problems. Obviously, the CAM would be assembling a response.

As far as he knew, the CAM didn't have a large formal army like the canucks. His plan, was to head south and get in contact with their militia force. For a price, he would train them. And for an additional fee he could convince them to let him go on special missions for them. After all, he had more experience than the majority of the farmers that made up their military. If he could convince them to fork over a decent paycheck for his services, he could sweeten his relationship with the Militiaman. Maybe get a promotion and a bigger cut of whatever jobs he did. As he prepared to get back on the move, he heard a gurgling noise from beneath him, followed by light sloshing of water and then the sound of an animal screeching.

Alarmed, Wesley jumped up and shouldered his rifle. Upon pinpointing the noise he looked over the guardrail and saw a deer caught in the clutches of a feral mutant. "Oh, that is nasty." he commented aloud as he observed the creature. It appeared to be some kind of dog at one point, but now its fur was nonexistent and its jaw was split down the middle with two rows of teeth that ended in fangs on each mandible. The mutant had caught the deer by the head and the thing was still convulsing as the monster tried to swallow it. Wesley cringed and raised his K98. He flipped off the safety and lobbed a round into the creatures head, killing it and the deer. The gunshot rang out for miles. He worked the bolt and waited until both collapsed before he put the safety back on. "Welp. Best to not let the meat go to waste." He walked around to the edge of the bridge and to the shore when the bodies where. He took a nylon tarp from his backpack and wrapped the deer in it. He also recovered the spent brass. The metal was still valuable. He'd sell the meat and pelt when he reached Cass City.

 

[Greater Soul Gem]

-{NEWPORT}-

Eric made his way to the window of his office. A bright light illuminated through the blinds as he opened them and looked upon the capital, his capital, of New Canada. In the restored city merchants and people walked through, guards patrolled the roads and things seemed normally calm. Calm, but what if the CAM pinpoints this location? Eric's thoughts started to drift off again. He looked further into the distance, opening the window.

There in the distance he saw the farms surrounding Newport, a few watchtowers across the large distance. Of course, there were troopers and snipers sitting there. All that laid past that were dry forests and bare hills. The surrounding areas were usually dry and treacherous with bandits and mutated wildlife, so they hadn't expanded there. Yet.

Soon the boats began to leave the docks and head to Michigan. Most were for supplies and soldier transportation. Only one of them was transporting civilians. It was only a matter of days until the CAM marched to Port Austin and attacked, but they were outnumbered and outsmarted. This was something Eric knew, and so he didn't care about what happened at this point, for he already knew he would win.​

​

 

[Raku]

Letting out a sigh, Derek sat among another scene of his triumph. The bodies of raiders lay strewn about, a few with injuries no human could cause without equipment. His chosen resting spot was a dilapidated sedan. As he sat on the rusting hood it sunk under his weight. He wanted to make a joke about him being fat, but no one was around to laugh at it. He was about to lay back and rest but was interrupted by a nearby gunshot. Derek sprang up, muttering curses as he moved off the car. "Who was that?" he said softly. Of course, as any intelligent person would do, he began to investigate. He made his way to an elevated position, a bridge to be exact, and searched for the source of the gunshot. His search ended as his eyes set upon a man down on the shoreline. Derek's initial and final assumption was that the man was hunting as what lie next to them was a deer and a mutated dog. "That's one ugly SoB" he mumbled in reference to the dog. As usual, being the "social butterfly" he was, Derek decided to greet the man. He thought a complement would be a good start. "Nice hunt! That outta keep ya for a few!" he shouted down to the man. Derek's next question would be how this man would react to him, being a mutant and all.

Pacificus

 

[Pacificus]

Wesley was beginning to haul the dead deer back up the road when someone called down to him from the bridge. He looked up at the man but tell much about him other than that he was big. The important part was that he didn't have a weapon pointed at him. "Well, I got lucky. The mutant had it trapped. I didn't even have to try." He shouted back. His voice was slightly muffled by his gasmask. He continued hauling it back up to the road. Wesley was suspicious of the mans behavior. No one was that friendly these days unless they wanted something. Wesley decided to keep him at the metaphorical arms length.

One he got onto the road he was able to study the man. He was certainly a big guy, but he seemed normal enough. "If you can stomach it, you can have the muties carcass. Personally, I don't trust it so it's all yours if you want it." he said as he twirled the single piece of spent brass inbetween his fingers.

Raku

 

[Acrylic]

Sabrina Ashton Moon
Sabrina, a 20 year old girl just looking for a way to survive.
She was just on her way back from hunting and headed to the markets, where mutants and humans of all kinds would trade their things on hopes to make some cash.
Sabrina had a small apartment there she'd rent out from a small old mutant lady with scaly skin. She was a sweetheart though, and blind. So she had no idea that Sabrina was even a known criminal. Though, a lot of people around the markets knew of Sabrina, didn't mean they were going to turn her in, though. She has gained most people's trust, even if she doesn't trust them herself.
Sabrina was walking down the abandoned streets with a dead fox slung over her shoulders. Shortly, her tiny, aching body (despite having strong muscles, it was a long walk.) made it back to the markets. From there she set up her own makeshift stand and started a campfire, taking out all of the seasonings and spices she needed. But before that, she quickly skinned the fox.​

 

[Greater Soul Gem]

-{NEWPORT}-

The news finally arrived about the attack. The same courier walked in, same clothes with the exception of his shoes. They were a blue tainted grey pair of sandals. When he looked back up he saw the courier, he finally spoke. "Sir, we have news from Port Austin. We lost 7, but the attackers lost 25. Ambushed with grenades and snipers. They retreated." He stopped speaking, and Eric had smiled but he coughed and went to a blank slate once again.

"Good job. Now that they've lost a few men, we have an opportunity to attack. Schedule an assault on Detroit itself. 98 men, all armed. Bring 3 boats down to the river by the bridge ruins and shoot them down with whatever you can think of." He stopped speaking again and looked at the courier. "This weekend is the attack. You are dismissed."​

 

[Gummy]

The first thought Clyde had once he got to somewhere safe was "Is this my blood or theirs?" For him, it had been a very eventful day. He slumped to a seated position, taking off his mask and tossing it aside as he gasped for air after his long sprint. He decided to take a breather and recap what had happened.

He had been tracking down a certain criminal, the head of a small gang, for about three days so far. It had been the largest bounty Clyde had taken on so far, and he anticipated it to be the most challenging. After trailing his target for a good six hours, and following the gang leader to his hideout, with no problems in his way, Clyde took up a false sense of security and confidence.
The idiotic boy strolled in through the front door of the hideout, an abandoned utility store, to find the target, and put an end to him. Though he was met with 14 bandits armed to the teeth, all looking at the boy.

The room fell silent, the only sound to be heard was Clyde's gulp before he drew his python and shot the first man he could lay his eyes on. He knew it was a losing fight. The shot connected with the bandit's chest, knocking him out of the chair, causing the dead bandit's gun to misfire, hitting a large gasoline drum that one of the other bandits had been sitting on. Miraculously, the sparks of the bullet off the rusting canister, mixed with its gasoline, caused a massive explosion, sending Clyde 5 feet back and on his ass. Without hesitation, as the shellshocked bandits tried to gain a sense of what happened, the young boy was off, sprinting out of the door.

He had been running for at least a mile now, and after fully gaining his breath, soldiered on. He had to find his way back to town, and back to his house, without the rest of the bandits skinning him alive, or some mutants doing the same. Clyde rounded the corner of a convenience store, into its alleyway, to find a girl sitting next to the dumpster and fittling with some sort of contraption. Instinctively Clyde reached for his repeater, and pointed it toward the girl. "State your business." He ordered, while also mentally high-fiving himself for how much of a cowboy he sounded right there.
F Feit

 

[StarryKnights]

Colette's work was fairly simple. She traveled with small bands of Whitesharks, acting as lookout, and negotiator with merchants and other rogue agents of the waste. Sure, it was easy to blow away anyone who disagreed with the mercenary group, but often times, if one could save a few bullets, it was a good idea to do so. And that was where Colette came in. What she lacked in physically prowess, she made up for in wit. It was the main reason the Whitesharks kept her around. Currently, the mutant was waiting, her men were pawning off some of their less than legal goods. Bullets, guns and a couple of explosives. The usual. It was just another typical day at the marketplace, one of the only places where sentient mutants roamed and didn't feel threatened. It was, almost bizarre, out in the wastes, simply being a mutant was enough to wind up dead, no matter how sentient one claimed to be.
Colette was fairly lucky, her mutation was fairly subtle. Sure, her skin had a gray tone, and her eyes were an unnatural steel color. But she looked more human the the scale old woman she'd seen in the market before.

Colette's real power was her ability to manipulate others, whether it was something in her voice or her eyes, she could be downright hypnotic. A trick she used to hr full advantage when it came to negotiating with others. Given she wasn't currently needed, she was wandering around the market, looking over stalls, and politely chatting with the other merchants. Spotting someone intriguing, Colette took a turn, and paused at a recently constructed stall, where a woman, who looked to be around her age, was skinning a fox. "Impressive catch, game seems to become more rare by the day". Colette said conversationally.

Acrylic

 

[Acrylic]

Sabrina Ashton Moon
Sabrina continued skinning her catch, the fox. It was such a beauty in the wilderness. Just minding his own business... Until a shot goes off into its heart. Poor thing. Sabrina sighed and admired her catch. Whatever there is up in the sky, she hopes that this catch was meant to be, like every other animal she caught before this beauty.
For a fox, the fox was a larger size. Most likely an older fox, Sabrina thought, noticing a few gray hairs here and there on the fox skin that she'd trade in for something else valuable to carry along in her rose embroidered satchel.

Sabrina was half way through skinning the fox when she heard a female voice, it wasn't a voice she'd recognized. Of course, there was many people and mutants come and go in the marketplace... But most people and mutants that'd trade with her, Sabrina would already know. On rare occasions, it was different, like this one. Sabrina has been living here for a year in her little apartment and hasn't noticed this girl before.

The girl seemed to be a mutant with her grayish skin and steel colored eyes. Sabrina wouldn't judge, of course. To her, most mutants were the same to humans in her mind. "We're all fucked up, but in our own ways." Sabrina's mother would tell her back when she was still around and not off California to live out her "lavish" life with her own sugar daddy.

Sabrina smiled a quaint smile to the mutant girl and glanced back at her half-way-skinned fox. Sabrina nodded and laughed lightly as she stared back at the girl, "Thanks," Sabrina rolled her eyes and nodded in agreement, "You can say that again." ​

StarryKnights

 

[Greater Soul Gem]

-{NEWPORT}-

Eric was tired and sick of the slow communication between Michigan and his capital city. If he was going to compete with the forces of CAM, he would need fast, inexpensive, reliable communication. His plan was to put a general in charge of the capital, while Eric resided in Port Austin for the time.

Moments later he grabbed his pen and a paper, and began writing a letter as fast as he could. It was mostly information about preparations for his arrival. Once he was down, he exited the office, down the stairs, out the building and went to the docks. The water was a bit dirty, and the ground was partially restored. There were a few stands which farmers sold their goods. The same courier was still preparing, so Eric coined and walked up to him.

"Oh, send this letter to General Collins. Let him read it, and only him. You can't read it either." He said, sternly and quietly. The courier slowly nodded, a bit nervous. He didn't speak either. He put the letter in his hands and the courier put it in his messenger bag, and entered one of the smaller boats.​

 

[Pacificus]

Wesley was beginning to haul the dead deer back up the road when someone called down to him from the bridge. He looked up at the man but tell much about him other than that he was big. The important part was that he didn't have a weapon pointed at him. "Well, I got lucky. The mutant had it trapped. I didn't even have to try." He shouted back. His voice was slightly muffled by his gasmask. He continued hauling it back up to the road. Wesley was suspicious of the mans behavior. No one was that friendly these days unless they wanted something. Wesley decided to keep him at the metaphorical arms length.

One he got onto the road he was able to study the man. He was certainly a big guy, but he seemed normal enough. "If you can stomach it, you can have the muties carcass. Personally, I don't trust it so it's all yours if you want it." he said as he twirled the single piece of spent brass inbetween his fingers.

Raku

Raku

 

[Feit]

Lindsey sat back, her head against the dull concrete behind her, staring blankly ahead as she slowly ate her granola bar, like a cattle would chew a piece of cud. As hard as she tried to remain aware of her surroundings, she couldn't help but nod off. Not having enough food on hand sure was exhausting.

She knew she had to stay awake, to watch out for any potential thugs, yet she felt her eyelids grow heavy all the same. It'd been so long, at least a week or so, since she'd actually spoken to, or seen, anyone. The silence was eerie. It getting was weird for Lindsey, talking out loud and only hearing the rebounding echo of her own voice respond to her.

Instinctively, she tensed up, thinking she heard something in the distance. The hairs on her arms and back of her neck stood on end. Was that...footsteps? It had to be, the steady thump the only thing breaking the silence of the day. Her eyes remained closed for a few seconds longer, taking a brief moment to savor the lingering feeling of sleep.

She opened her eyes to see a startling figure standing in front of her, pointing a weapon right at her. “Woah! Woah, woah hey,” she stuttered. Lindsey raised her hands, in her right she still clutched her snack, and slowly got up from her seated position. She stood facing him, palms faced outwards, attempting to convey with her body language that she was no threat. Looking down the barrel of this man's gun was certainly not a great first impression. It was hard for her to judge his intent. Was he looking for trouble, planning to shoot her just for the fun of it? Or did he actually assume she was actually dangerous?

The thought almost made her laugh. Her eyes lit up, but she managed to hold the chuckle in. “My business?” she repeated, an unbelieving smirk on her face, “I'm just – I'm just sitting here, y'know.” Lindsey found it hard to get out a coherent sentence with that thing pointed at her. She should be used to the casual brandishing of weapons by now, she had one herself, but it still made her uncomfortable. “Just trying to get this stupid thing to work.” She punctuated the insult by kicked her dumb burner aside. Then she cringed, realizing that hasty movement just might have cost Lindsey her life. Rule #1 when someone was pointing a gun at you: no sudden movements.

“Listen,” she said to him, taking a deep breath. Her hands were still up, trembling slightly. This was how it ended, wasn't it? “I want no trouble. Honest. If you're looking to rob me, I don't have shit. Believe me.” She motioned towards the empty can rolling back and forth a few feet from her. “Look at me, do I look like a threat? That sorry excuse for a burner is the only thing I've got going for me, and I can't even get that right.”

Gummy

 

[Gummy]

Clyde stared at her, not moving his aim off her chest. Though he felt he was giving off the wrong impression to the survivor. She seemed pretty timid and up-tight. It took the man a little bit of time to realize that she was probably freaked out over the fact that he was pointing a loaded weapon. Also possibly because he was covered in other people's blood. He eyed her down, keeping his aim steady while she put up her case on why he shouldnt shoot her.

Clyde felt bad for her, and a little guilty. After all he's no murderer, unless its for a bounty. He couldn't call himself noble either, since the bounties he was chasing hadnt been exactly legal in the CAM area. He looked around at the girl's camp sight, seeing that it was just a little area next to a dumpster. By its appearance, she hadnt been doing well on her own. He lowered his aim, though he didnt exactly trust her yet. He knew how desperity could drive a person to their worst stares of mind, including jumping a fully armed man. "I-im not looking to rob you." He said flatly, not knowing how to continue with the conversation. "All I am is a little paranoid at the moment. Sorry 'bout pointing the gun at you." He tried offiering a friendly smile, though all he could manage was a half-grin. "The name's Clyde." He decided to be polite, and slid off his glove, gesturing out to shake her hand.

F Feit

 

[StarryKnights]

Colette blinked, she felt she'd seen this girl around before, but then again, there were lots of humans wandering the wastes, and there was nothing particularly notable about any of them. She chuckled as the woman agreed with her statement. "Indeed, I'm impressed you were able to find such a tasty morsel". Colette wondered where the girl had found the thing, foxes and most prey in general, were hard to come by. The wastes were a hostile environment, where people, as well as animals, were liable to tear you to shreds. People starved to death everyday, which made people who could track and hunt a invaluable commodity. She was impressed this woman wasn't a member of the Whitesharks, or any other faction for that matter.

Colette flashed a smile. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to trade that little beauty for something". Food was always an important item to keep stalked, Colette had no idea how long she'd be in town. The sharks didn't seem to have a lot of serious business here at the moment. At least, nothing she needed to worry about. Gathering some supplies for the next trip, wherever it took them, was all apart of being prepared. Someone had to think ahead, most of the people she got teamed with weren't smart enough for such things. The woman leaned down, so the two were near eye level. "Or, even better, you could tell me where you found it".
That way, they could send their own men out hunting, and could cut out the middle man.

Acrylic

 

[Acrylic]

Sabrina Ashton Moon
Sabrina nodded and quickly finished skinning the fox, "Yeah, thanks. It is pretty hard to find beauties like this nowadays." Not too hard for me... Sabrina thought to herself. Sabrina has been living alone for the longest time in her life... She's never thought about joining any faction and prefers to remain that way. By saying this, Sabrina is a very good hunter and had to learn how to be, after leaving the city, Sabrina had to learn how to survive. Plus, she didn't trust on relying on anyone, worried she'd be burned once again.

Sabrina thought for a moment, "Well..." Sabrina looked at the now-skinned-fox. She was going to sell parts of it, but, if Sabrina could get a really good trade or a good amount of money, she'd definitely do it.

The blonde was just about to continue to speak when the taller girl went down to the eye level of Sabrina, "Or, even better, you could tell me where you found it." The mutant girl said.

Sabrina took a step back and shook her head, "Maybe..." Sabrina bit her lip and crossed her arms, looking down at the skinned fox, quickly changing the subject, "We could do a trade or I could sell it to you. Either one."​

StarryKnights

​

 

[StarryKnights]

Colette arched an eyebrow an eyebrow as the woman took a step back. It seemed she was less than comfortable with having people in her personal space. Innocent enough, most people weren't comfortable with having strangers in their personal space. Perhaps Colette just unnerved her? She didn't want that, a good hunter was a good...ally to have. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be pushy". She said with a smile as she stood up straight. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable". She flashed her nicest smile. "I'm sure we can work out something...what would you want for the fox?". She cocked her head to the side.

Colette crossed her arms. "Though, I have to admit, if you would be willing to...tell me where you found it, I could offer you much, much more than whatever you'd want for the carcass.
Most people would pay out the nose for the location of a choice hunting ground. Then again, this girl could've just gotten lucky with the fox, or be skilled enough to track prey through the wastes. If it was the latter, Colette would be surprised if she wasn't associated with one of the factions. Perhaps CAM...she'd never seen the woman with the sharks before.

Acrylic

 

[Feit]

As time passed, Lindsey felt her heartbeat speed up, fluttering helplessly in her chest. This is it, this is the end, she assumed, looking the guy up and down. He seemed to be well prepared, all decked out in some sort of survival gear. The contrast between Lindsey's street-dweller outfit and this man's apocalyptic getup was almost laughable.

Not to mention the dried blood splattered on him, Lindsey had just realized. Was it his own? Or was it someone else's? Would her blood eventually find its home there, with all the other nameless splatters? She bit her lip, trying not to think about that, but the thought couldn't help but dance around in her mind.

She took a defensive step back as he pulled of his glove, ready to bolt the second she found the opportunity, but all he did was offer his hand to her. Lindsey gave the man a wary glance, looked down at his hand, then back up at him. She mirrored his own gesture, mindlessly reaching to pull of a glove of her own, but she was wearing none. All she accomplished was grabbing the fingertips of her other hand. Nevertheless, she reached out and grasped his hand. "That's alright," she said, rather slowly, still trying to determine whether or not this guy was a total nutjob, "I'm Lindsey." Her eyes flickered to the gun, then back at him. "Could you perhaps point that thing someplace else? Not exactly great for first impressions, you know."

Gummy