-
This section is for roleplays only.
ALL interest checks/recruiting threads must go in the Recruit Here section.
Please remember to credit artists when using works not your own.
Realistic or Modern ａｆｔｅｒ ｔｈｅ ｗｉｎｔｅｒ | ｒｐ
- Thread starter Oumscar
- Start date
Oumscar
nah.
The Midwest is a pretty scary place, in the year 2053. It was dead in the middle of a spectrum that had been set in this new, nuclear world. On one end of the scale were the wastelands. Areas so riddled by bombs and radiation that there wasn't really anything there anymore. The cities had been leveled, and fallout had exterminated any trace of life that had once been there. It is a silent, empty place. On the other end, are the last few bastions of life as it was before. Practically untouched by the war, these areas sustain rich, complex ecosystems, almost identical to the environments that were found there previously. However, they are few and far between, the majority in isolated locations like Australia, and Canada. But the Midwest? The Midwest was in that Goldilocks zone for radiation and nature to mix. The landscape was changed an unprecedented amount. Over the decades, the radiation forced the local flora and fauna to either die, or adapt. Some simply developed tumourous cysts and boils, while others began to grow limbs, and change in size over generations of damage to their DNA. Plants became hardier, and adopted a more desaturated tone, rather than their usual vibrant colours. Predators were more aggressive, mother's more protective of their young, prey more wary of their surroundings. To put it simply, an unforgiving, dog-eat-dog world, that would chew you up, and spit you out if you didn't learn to fight back.
Oumscar
nah.
A pounding at the door. A chorus of angry voices rumbling outside like a distant thundercloud rolling over the hills. 'Get him out here!' a voice cried, 'We need justice!' shouted another. A softer, closer voice found Elijah's ears easier however. It swam through the inky blackness of his sleep like an otter through water, slipping gracefully through into his ears.
'Eli, you need to get up. Please- they're-!' A crash. Light flooded the comfortable darkness, as they flooded inside. Like a swarm of hungry gnats, they converged on him. But rather than devour his flesh, their rough hands found his arms, his legs, his hair. Eli was dragged bodily along the ground. Faceless, convulsing figures walked all around him, hurling their garbled cries, and spitting on him from formless mouths. He was pulled the lip of a seemingly bottomless chasm. Elijah wasn't given so much as a word, before he felt a force against his back tipping him over the edge, and free-wheeling into open air.
A scream ripped at Elijah's throat as he shot up in his sleeping bag. His chest rose and fell in frantic breaths, as his heard his cry echo once... then twice across the plains that lay out opposite him. Eli was dripping with sweat, despite the freezing Autumn morning.
'Fff-fuck...' He panted. That scream must've carried for miles... what if it attracted some unwanted attention? Well- it wasn't like tortured screams were especially uncommon in the wilderness nowadays, but for all his luck, some bloodthirsty tribe of cannibalistic meat-munchers were on their way right now to cook up his supple young flesh. Elijah shivered involuntarily. Hopefully that wasn't the case.
Elijah had camped out in an old gas-station for the night. These types of buildings were fairly common to find, with many being too far away from any large city to sustain any damage from the explosions. No use wasting a nuke to wipe some rural gas station off the map right? Looters had completely stripped the place clean, but it was still somewhere dry, and indoors for Elijah to spend the night. He stretched, yawning wide. The tiled floors were far from comfortable, and his sleeping bag afforded practically no cushioning, but Elijah still managed a smile, as he stood. 'Another day, another dollar. Or- water... I guess. Another water? That doesn't... another drop, maybe? Another day, another drop? Well, it rhymes at least...' Eli though to himself.
In the apocalypse, the survivors didn't create some new arbitrary currency like pop-culture had thought. Instead, they had reverted back to a more practical way of obtaining goods- by trading. Everything is worth something to someone, whether that be food, medicine, weapons, and most importantly, water. Clean water had become a precious commodity, something that many would kill for.
Elijah began to pack up his rudimentary camp. He hadn't made a fire, instead relying on his thick jacket and many layers to keep him warm. It mostly just consisted of him jamming his sleeping bag back into his backpack. Eli must've sat there for 10 or so minutes, cursing to himself as he forced the mass of fabric inside the light-weight bag.
'Eli, you need to get up. Please- they're-!' A crash. Light flooded the comfortable darkness, as they flooded inside. Like a swarm of hungry gnats, they converged on him. But rather than devour his flesh, their rough hands found his arms, his legs, his hair. Eli was dragged bodily along the ground. Faceless, convulsing figures walked all around him, hurling their garbled cries, and spitting on him from formless mouths. He was pulled the lip of a seemingly bottomless chasm. Elijah wasn't given so much as a word, before he felt a force against his back tipping him over the edge, and free-wheeling into open air.
A scream ripped at Elijah's throat as he shot up in his sleeping bag. His chest rose and fell in frantic breaths, as his heard his cry echo once... then twice across the plains that lay out opposite him. Eli was dripping with sweat, despite the freezing Autumn morning.
'Fff-fuck...' He panted. That scream must've carried for miles... what if it attracted some unwanted attention? Well- it wasn't like tortured screams were especially uncommon in the wilderness nowadays, but for all his luck, some bloodthirsty tribe of cannibalistic meat-munchers were on their way right now to cook up his supple young flesh. Elijah shivered involuntarily. Hopefully that wasn't the case.
Elijah had camped out in an old gas-station for the night. These types of buildings were fairly common to find, with many being too far away from any large city to sustain any damage from the explosions. No use wasting a nuke to wipe some rural gas station off the map right? Looters had completely stripped the place clean, but it was still somewhere dry, and indoors for Elijah to spend the night. He stretched, yawning wide. The tiled floors were far from comfortable, and his sleeping bag afforded practically no cushioning, but Elijah still managed a smile, as he stood. 'Another day, another dollar. Or- water... I guess. Another water? That doesn't... another drop, maybe? Another day, another drop? Well, it rhymes at least...' Eli though to himself.
In the apocalypse, the survivors didn't create some new arbitrary currency like pop-culture had thought. Instead, they had reverted back to a more practical way of obtaining goods- by trading. Everything is worth something to someone, whether that be food, medicine, weapons, and most importantly, water. Clean water had become a precious commodity, something that many would kill for.
Elijah began to pack up his rudimentary camp. He hadn't made a fire, instead relying on his thick jacket and many layers to keep him warm. It mostly just consisted of him jamming his sleeping bag back into his backpack. Eli must've sat there for 10 or so minutes, cursing to himself as he forced the mass of fabric inside the light-weight bag.
fin
"all i do is finesse, man."
Rory
His current camp consisted of his hammock, a small pile of leaves for Bella's bed, and his bag of resources set aside, all beneath the two trees his hammock was tied upon. It was convenient to stay hidden, as the leaves of the trees met in the middle above, and provided a ceiling of sorts. Nowadays all Rory did was plan for the future, and reminisce his last moments with his father and family before being exiled. He brushed off some dust that'd formed over the image of a younger him, and his father on his tenth birthday. Age didn't usually matter to the Fortis travelers, but his father had always gone out of his way to make each one special. The image and memories of the picture brought a faint smile on what had usually been a frown for the past days in exile. All interrupted by the hisses of Bella at his side though.
"Hey, girl. I thought you were asleep." Rory whispered in the darkness of the night. Bella wasn't as calm as he was though, and the mutant dog hissed once again, this time much more ferocious and serious than the last time. Rory immediately got the image. He tucked the picture into one of the pockets of his camouflage pockets, and fastened his dark hoodie over top his shaggy hair before hopping off of the hammock and landing on knee next to Bella. The two had been together for almost 5 years now, and Rory was definitely picking up Bella's signs of communication. Her longing gaze out into the opening, and angered disposition was warning enough. Something-- someone else, was out there.
Rory sighed, stroking Bella's back softly before turning to his bag. The most important rule of the Fortis had been to always been on the offense, no matter what. He didn't plan on being found defenseless in the woods, and the idea of having someone or a group of people to raid was enticing enough for Rory. He'd been itching to use his switch-blade, an object he'd been living off of amongst others than came as a gift from his dad. His bag consisted of a rapidly depleting jug of water, some dark chocolates he'd been saving up, a change of clothes, and (now rotten) fruits. Rory swung the bag over his back, tightened his hoodie over head, and with a small 'yip' sound, beckoned Bella to his side as the two left camp. Part of him had been longing to call that camp a home, but another part of him knew sooner or later he'd come under attack, or meet an ally.
He pushed past the vines, and bush, and made his way into the opening. Rory allowed Bella to race ahead, and lead him to whatever noise or threat she'd sensed. He trusted her like that. It also wasn't like there was much to hide behind, and so if he did get ambushed, he'd have to rely on his cunning and strength to escape. Perhaps lead them back to camp and use his little contraptions against the enemy. Mighty big 'ifs.' Rory's back was against one of the walls of the gas station, and slowly his eyes peered towards the front entrance/exit. He could already hear the ruffling inside, packing up. They were about to leave, and Rory would catch them from behind, likely put them in a chokehold. Get, or negotiate for whatever resources he could salvage. He nodded to himself, that would have to be the plan.
Oumscar
plague rats
New Member
Heavy boots picked their way through dirt and cracking tarmac just slow enough to stay silent. This time of year always made Clem feel older, the cold sinking deep into tired bones. The scent of smoke from long dead fires still clung to his heavy layers and he inhaled deeply as he tightened the scarf wrapped around his face. The weather change meant less forage and what animals were left were thin and skittish. It didn’t help that a fall through a water damaged roof a few weeks before had used up most of his piecemeal med kit and a trip to town was inevitable at this point. So onward Clem trudged. First stop would be a gas station he used as a waypoint between settlements. It’d been picked clean years before Clem ever set foot on these plains but he knew most people wouldn’t bother to go through the trouble of pushing aside the scum filled cooler at the back of the store. And if they did they’d have to find the loose tiles up against the wall, pry them up, and brush away a thin layer of dirt to find his stash. It wasn’t much but after a few days of living off scraps he just wanted something to eat and somewhere to sleep.
Traveling the plains was always stressful. Long stretches without cover left him feeling exposed so he’d been more nocturnal lately, sticking to roads to avoid leaving any footprints. In the dark he was little more than a ghost and as morning approached he let his shoulders slump slightly. It was easy to imagine he really was the last person alive in moments like this, pack heavy with pilfered goods, lungs tingling with bright air. Even the soft ache of his legs was nearly pleasant, a warmth that held all the miles he’d walked. Then a scream burst the quiet bubble of night and Clem threw himself down into the overgrown scrub that lined the road, holding his breath until the echo died down. No sounds of violence followed but after a minute he could just barely make out some rustling, more animal than human. Then the same heavy silence settled over him but whatever peace it held before was gone, leaving him with his fingers digging into the grit and dry roots.
Goddammit goddammit goddammit. Clem kept flat to the ground, inching towards a hollowed out car left to rust on the shoulder. With that between him and the gas station he felt confident enough to push himself up off the ground and lean against the cool metal as he gathered his thoughts. Common sense told him to make for the woods but the tight knot of hunger in his stomach wasn’t listening. A hundred yards of road still stretched between him and the gas station. Barring some miracle with his hunting it would be at least a two day walk to his next decent meal. So he crept down the length of the car, fingers searching for traction on the smooth surface as he peeked around the bumper. If he squinted he could just make out a figure pressed against the side of the gas station but there were no clear signs of a struggle. If he was lucky they’d wander off soon enough but for now all he could do was wait and see.
mentions:
fin
Oumscar
Traveling the plains was always stressful. Long stretches without cover left him feeling exposed so he’d been more nocturnal lately, sticking to roads to avoid leaving any footprints. In the dark he was little more than a ghost and as morning approached he let his shoulders slump slightly. It was easy to imagine he really was the last person alive in moments like this, pack heavy with pilfered goods, lungs tingling with bright air. Even the soft ache of his legs was nearly pleasant, a warmth that held all the miles he’d walked. Then a scream burst the quiet bubble of night and Clem threw himself down into the overgrown scrub that lined the road, holding his breath until the echo died down. No sounds of violence followed but after a minute he could just barely make out some rustling, more animal than human. Then the same heavy silence settled over him but whatever peace it held before was gone, leaving him with his fingers digging into the grit and dry roots.
Goddammit goddammit goddammit. Clem kept flat to the ground, inching towards a hollowed out car left to rust on the shoulder. With that between him and the gas station he felt confident enough to push himself up off the ground and lean against the cool metal as he gathered his thoughts. Common sense told him to make for the woods but the tight knot of hunger in his stomach wasn’t listening. A hundred yards of road still stretched between him and the gas station. Barring some miracle with his hunting it would be at least a two day walk to his next decent meal. So he crept down the length of the car, fingers searching for traction on the smooth surface as he peeked around the bumper. If he squinted he could just make out a figure pressed against the side of the gas station but there were no clear signs of a struggle. If he was lucky they’d wander off soon enough but for now all he could do was wait and see.
mentions:
fin
Oumscar
Terrier B
Elephants can smell water.
The Gas Station in question, was a dirty grotty old little thing. No glass left in any of the windows, peeling walls, collapsed shelves, and the occasional mutant rat family hidden in the rafters here and there. Quite a quaint little hamlet really, all things considered. It'd certainly do for now anyway. The weather had gone from mildly annoying, to increasingly frustrating in Bo's opinion. The wind has a sharp snappy chill in it's tail, and continuously blew her hair in all directions. Although she'd prefer to keep on the move, she'd prefer it greater still if she could just escape the draughty deluge for a while.
She scavenged for a little bit first, I mean, there wasn't exactly much else she could do. But the place was rather dry as far as supplies go. Just scrappy leftovers and remains really. There was an old radio on the service counter, a type all the way from way back when. It wasn't one of the one's she liked to find though, it didn't do tapes. Had no hole or place to put them. Oh well. Can;t be lucky every time I suppose. There were a few interesting looking empty packets and cans leftover either from former travellers or maybe again from all the way back before the big one went off. Bo amused herself for a while by examining the more entertaining looking labels that adorned the packages surfaces. One label said, well, at least she thought it said, "Sppp-aaahhh-gghh-eee-ttii?". There was a picture of a man holding what looked like a bowl of odd bloody snakes in a bowl, and he was wearing one of the silliest looking hats she had ever seen. She allowed herself a small private giggle.
The small yard out back didn't hold any supplies or worth either really. She wandered about a bit, kicking a stone against a wall repeatedly as she thought about just what exactly she was going to do next. After a particularly well aimed kick, her makeshift stone-ball scittered and scattered off to the side and under one of those old Ice-Box-Cold-Cupboard thingies. With a sigh, she knelt down and cautiously shoved her hand underneath, grasping blindly for the rock. While she was there, something interesting caught her eye. The old paving stones under the cooler weren't particularly faded. Well, I mean of course they were a little bit, things don't get off that lightly in a Nuclear Apocalyptic world. But there should be a patch under the box that was a bit more saturated than the area that was left uncovered around it, shouldn't there? It used all of her brain muscles, but eventually, Bo came to a conclusion.
Someone, at least somewhat regularly, moved this cooler. But why? Surely, there must be a reason. Frowning slightly, she lugged herself up to her feet. She was only a few hands taller than the whole thing, and although it wasn't full of anything heavy, the contraption itself was a hefty piece of equipment. She could hear the Mighties laughing at her now, little scrawny beanstalk that she was. The frown turned into a full on pout, and with all the force she could muster, Bo pushed as hard as she could against the cooler. It took her a decent three minutes or so, but finally, eventually, she managed to move it enough to the side so she could see what treasure surely lay in wait.
Oh. Just some gungy old wall tiles. Great.
No, come on Bo, use your brain again. Aha! One of them had a crooked corner. With an air of caution, Bo reached out and slowly pulled the tiles aside. Behind them, clouded in a fine layer of dust that must have settled in the time in-between the initial hoarders visits, was a fairly sized, secret stash of supplies. What a lucky day this was turning out to be after all. She gathered up all that had been hidden. Ideally, she'd rather like to take the time to investigate her newfound loot a bit more precisely. But Bo was smart enough to know that even if the original Hoarder didn't show up to claim what was rightfully theirs soon, some other mindless wandered would come lolloping into the place. She shoved her prize into her own tatty looking backpack, as she looked about her and weighed up her options.
It didn't take her too long to decide on the best bet. The roof of the Gas Station was easily accessible enough to her, but would be tricky for another to tackle. And even if they wanted to try, their attempt should take long enough for her to make a decent getaway. Roof it is then. After ascending, she settled against an old funnel that jutted up and out of the building. Spreading the contents of the stash around her, in some sort of supply halo of goodies, she began her inspection.
It was getting towards the evening now. Bo had just settled in to a nice can of, "Tooooommmbbb-ahhhhhhh-two Soooooop?" when the other one announced his arrival. She saw him approach from quite a long way off, the roof providing the additional benefit of being a decent vantage post as well. The man must have figured this place would make decent enough shelter as well too. Hmm. She likes his hair, it's a bit like hers. Unruly. For now, she'd leave him be. The man looked harmless enough, and he had no idea of her own presence yet. Maybe she could check over his stuff when he'd passed out for the night. The girl yawned and leaned back lazily against the funnel. She'd do it later though, for now, a little rest wouldn't hurt...
Bo woke with a start at the scream. What was that idiot doing?! In the few seconds before the rest of her senses had woken up, she dashed to the roofs brink. Leaning haphazardly over the edge, she glared at the curly haired idiot, "HEY. DUMBASS. WHY DON'T YOU YELL LOUDER AND SEE IF ANY HOWLING WOLVES REPLY BACK TOO?"
She scavenged for a little bit first, I mean, there wasn't exactly much else she could do. But the place was rather dry as far as supplies go. Just scrappy leftovers and remains really. There was an old radio on the service counter, a type all the way from way back when. It wasn't one of the one's she liked to find though, it didn't do tapes. Had no hole or place to put them. Oh well. Can;t be lucky every time I suppose. There were a few interesting looking empty packets and cans leftover either from former travellers or maybe again from all the way back before the big one went off. Bo amused herself for a while by examining the more entertaining looking labels that adorned the packages surfaces. One label said, well, at least she thought it said, "Sppp-aaahhh-gghh-eee-ttii?". There was a picture of a man holding what looked like a bowl of odd bloody snakes in a bowl, and he was wearing one of the silliest looking hats she had ever seen. She allowed herself a small private giggle.
The small yard out back didn't hold any supplies or worth either really. She wandered about a bit, kicking a stone against a wall repeatedly as she thought about just what exactly she was going to do next. After a particularly well aimed kick, her makeshift stone-ball scittered and scattered off to the side and under one of those old Ice-Box-Cold-Cupboard thingies. With a sigh, she knelt down and cautiously shoved her hand underneath, grasping blindly for the rock. While she was there, something interesting caught her eye. The old paving stones under the cooler weren't particularly faded. Well, I mean of course they were a little bit, things don't get off that lightly in a Nuclear Apocalyptic world. But there should be a patch under the box that was a bit more saturated than the area that was left uncovered around it, shouldn't there? It used all of her brain muscles, but eventually, Bo came to a conclusion.
Someone, at least somewhat regularly, moved this cooler. But why? Surely, there must be a reason. Frowning slightly, she lugged herself up to her feet. She was only a few hands taller than the whole thing, and although it wasn't full of anything heavy, the contraption itself was a hefty piece of equipment. She could hear the Mighties laughing at her now, little scrawny beanstalk that she was. The frown turned into a full on pout, and with all the force she could muster, Bo pushed as hard as she could against the cooler. It took her a decent three minutes or so, but finally, eventually, she managed to move it enough to the side so she could see what treasure surely lay in wait.
Oh. Just some gungy old wall tiles. Great.
No, come on Bo, use your brain again. Aha! One of them had a crooked corner. With an air of caution, Bo reached out and slowly pulled the tiles aside. Behind them, clouded in a fine layer of dust that must have settled in the time in-between the initial hoarders visits, was a fairly sized, secret stash of supplies. What a lucky day this was turning out to be after all. She gathered up all that had been hidden. Ideally, she'd rather like to take the time to investigate her newfound loot a bit more precisely. But Bo was smart enough to know that even if the original Hoarder didn't show up to claim what was rightfully theirs soon, some other mindless wandered would come lolloping into the place. She shoved her prize into her own tatty looking backpack, as she looked about her and weighed up her options.
It didn't take her too long to decide on the best bet. The roof of the Gas Station was easily accessible enough to her, but would be tricky for another to tackle. And even if they wanted to try, their attempt should take long enough for her to make a decent getaway. Roof it is then. After ascending, she settled against an old funnel that jutted up and out of the building. Spreading the contents of the stash around her, in some sort of supply halo of goodies, she began her inspection.
It was getting towards the evening now. Bo had just settled in to a nice can of, "Tooooommmbbb-ahhhhhhh-two Soooooop?" when the other one announced his arrival. She saw him approach from quite a long way off, the roof providing the additional benefit of being a decent vantage post as well. The man must have figured this place would make decent enough shelter as well too. Hmm. She likes his hair, it's a bit like hers. Unruly. For now, she'd leave him be. The man looked harmless enough, and he had no idea of her own presence yet. Maybe she could check over his stuff when he'd passed out for the night. The girl yawned and leaned back lazily against the funnel. She'd do it later though, for now, a little rest wouldn't hurt...
Bo woke with a start at the scream. What was that idiot doing?! In the few seconds before the rest of her senses had woken up, she dashed to the roofs brink. Leaning haphazardly over the edge, she glared at the curly haired idiot, "HEY. DUMBASS. WHY DON'T YOU YELL LOUDER AND SEE IF ANY HOWLING WOLVES REPLY BACK TOO?"
Users who are viewing this thread
Similar threads
