A Saga of Mushroom Clouds & Sad States

A Saga of Mushroom Clouds & Sad States

The year is 2334, and by traditional standards, the apocalypse has happened. In fact, it happened some two-hundred years ago. Really, it's come and gone, and what caused it and how it happened doesn't really matter to you. At least, not right now.

2,452 readers have visited this universe since Broski1984 created it.
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Introduction

Accepting characters for a Kingdom of Salut subplot. PM Broski1984 for more information.

A Saga of Mushroom Clouds & Sad States
...Or, how there are no more batteries for my Geiger counter.

>New Game
>Loading Scenario
>Scenario Loaded


The year is 2334, and by traditional standards, the apocalypse has happened. In fact, it happened some two-hundred years ago. Really, it's come and gone, and what caused it and how it happened doesn't really matter to you. At least, not right now.

What matters, is how it changed the world. The world you now live in.

On Fire-Day, life changed. The Government as it had been ceased to exist; the luckiest officials got to bunkers, cut off from society. Once the radiation and disease, brought by the bombs, began to clear, mankind began to rebuild - without the leaders they knew, and (somewhat) trusted.

Life continued, and within a few years, even the Government was rebuilt. In fact, it was rebuilt several times over, breaking the once enormous country of the United States into dozens of smaller, less-organized countries, most run by charismatic former business men, or trust-worthy pre-war police officers, or, occasionally, violent raiders.

When the Old Government returned, they were surprised to learn they no longer owned the land they walked upon, at least beyond what their papers said - sure, by old standards, it was theirs. By modern ones, it was not. Still better organized than most, they managed to reclaim a swath of land, less than a third of the size of the country they previously controlled. This became the New United States of America, or, as it is more commonly called in your time, The Old States.

Within a few decades, most of the smaller countries had vanished, either reclaimed by the Old States or by larger, more powerful, "new" countries. Even today, the names, sizes, and leaders of the countries continue to change. When you last checked, there were twelve.

This is what matters to you, what effects your actions in the here-and-now, the matters most pressing. The lingering radiation, spontaneous weather, mutated monsters, genetically altered religious-nuts, damaged robots and cave-dwelling beast-men are things you grew up around, things that will probably not go away, and cannot be changed. You may get attacked by a three-headed bear tomorrow, or you might not; it may start raining acid, but it probably won't.

What will happen is a war. There are already several wars going on right now, and the one that is most pressing is the "Southern War", the war between The Old States and the Confederacy. If you were more up on your pre-war history, you'd be over come with Dejavu.

You are currently in Blacksburg, Virginia, a city that has been around since before the war; it stands dangerously close to the border between the Old States and the Confederacy, and a battle here is imminent. Cities south of here have been looted and claimed for the South already, and this will likely be no different. Even if it remains in the Old States, it will still be a blood bath.

That is why you must leave, and leave now. Perhaps, it is even why you came here. For you are either a Mercenary, profiting from war and the work it brings you, or a Civilian, seeking to evacuate.

If you are the first, you are likely hired by D&M Personal Protection, the largest guns-for-hire company on the East Coast, sent to escort civilians wealthy enough to pay your fees out of Blacksburg, and possibly Old States itself.

If you are the latter, you likely live in Blacksburg, or fled to it after your own city was challenged. Your best bet for safety lies in the greasy, jittery hands of the guns for hire previously mentioned, for without them, traveling far from the major cities - or, worse, out of the Old States - would be suicide.

Select a class now; build a character, and enter the world of New America. Hopefully, you packed enough batteries for your Geiger counter.

~~~
Note: You do NOT have to read all of this, just skim it or come to it as you need it!

Manual

Thank you for purchasing A Saga of Mushroom Clouds & Sad States, the newest game brought to you by Little Angel Games, Inc.! We are sure you will enjoy this fine sci-fi adventure, and the soon to be released expansion packs!

Before that, though, you should really read the Manual from cover to cover, to help prevent any confusion.

Countries in SoMC&SS

A large portion of the game is based on the countries you will find in it, and how they interact with each other. As previously mentioned, there are twelve of them, as can be seen in this beautifully crafted map.

Image

The United States of America / The Old US
The Old US is one of the oldest, and largest of the countries in New America. It is run by President Landon Lincoln, and is one of the most "organized" countries.

Although re-tamed after the war, the North-Eastern corner of the country is still highly irradiated, and within its borders is the Prefect Colony, a secured region that could best be described as its own miniature nation.

It is not well-liked by the other countries, largely due to its constant attempts to "reclaim" what was once its own. It has a shaky alliance with both California and New England, and is currently at war with the Confederacy and The People's Republic.

This game will start in the Old US.

The Confederacy / The Old South
The Confederacy is another old country, having sprouted up shortly after Fire Day. It is run by General Jedediah Scranton, and while its inner-core (old Georgia and South Carolina) are well-organized and controlled, the majority of it is disorganized and incredibly dangerous.

The Confederacy wasn't hit nearly as hard by nuclear bombs as most parts of the continent, but instead suffered largely from dirty bombs, carrying diseases from anthrax to mutated strains of the flu. This eradicated much of the pre-war population, while doing minimal damage to the flora and fauna of the region.

Because of this, the country has few mutated animals, but one hell of a bramble problem. Entire swaths of the country, especially in Florida, are nearly blocked off by the quickly re-growing forests and swamps. These have become the homes of raiders, highwaymen and other sorts of low-lives; the local government and forces have had little luck chasing them out.

The Confederacy has few allies, but equally few enemies. It has an alliance with Texas, and is at war with the Old US.

New England
New England is one of the smallest, and arguably the most organized country in New America. It is also probably the oldest. It is run by President Stephen Coolidge.

New England was not hit hard directly, but did get much of New York's airborne radiation, and has suffered from even worse weather than usual since Fire Day. When it is not snowing in New England, it is probably raining, and when it isn't regular rain or snow, it's yellow irradiated rain and snow. Supposedly, however, it has very mild - if not very short - summers. Which are fairly rainy.

Because of this, it has a severe problem with radiated animals; fortunately, not many animals, radiated or not, can survive the weather. Unfortunately, not many people can, either, and the country has a severe problem with under-population.

What few citizens it has are generally friendly, if not a bit "off" mentally. The Old US, California, and The Kingdom of Salut are New England's allies; it has no serious enemies.

Texas
No one was surprised when Texas not only became its own country, but grew after Fire Day. It is the third largest, and third oldest country, and is run by Gov. Rev. Don Duke Walker.

Texas was hit hard by both radiation and dirty bombs, although this did little but anger its population and wildlife. Many Texans survived in community built bunkers, and most wildlife survived by doing what it had done for thousands of years; endure the heat, humidity, and poor air-quality. Although most places in New America no longer need fear radiation (aside, possibly, from standing water), Texas is one place you will want batteries for your Geiger counter when traveling through, as ground-levels of radiation remain high.

Unlike New England, Texas enjoys the opposite end of bad weather with near constant droughts. Because of this, most of it is typical wasteland, aside from the still-thriving Big Thicket.

Texas has many enemies, including the Cherokee Nation, The People's Republic, and the Rio Grande Republic. It has allies in the Confederacy, and to a lesser extent, Arabia.

Cherokee Nation
It was once promised, Cherokee Nation will return, and it sure did, although not with the force it once had. The Cherokee Nation is lead by Chief John Wildbird, although it has little organization, and is mostly broken into smaller, self-controlling villages.

The Cherokee Nation was not particularly hard hit, although it contained several military bunkers, that may or may not of released horrible beast-men. Like the big foot of Pre-war America, these cryptozoological creatures have become legends, and sightings of them are common.

The Cherokee Nation has enemies in Texas and the Fjord, and an ally in California.

The Fjord's Army / The Fjord's Land
The Fjord's Army is the newest player to the game of post-apocalyptic countries, and so far, plays the game pretty well. It is lead by the mysterious and ancient Fjord, and is a highly aggressive - but highly organized - country.

The Fjord, a Prefect exile, amassed an army some-fifty years ago, and soon began to claim land for himself. The result is the purple blotch you see before you. Although the land is dangerous, it is organized by a powerful, cult-like military force. Raiders in the established lands are nearly unheard of, and any mutated animals or rampaging robots were long ago dealt with.

The Fjord has many enemies, including the People's Republic, Salut, Arabia, California and Cherokee. It has no allies, and doesn't need them if you ask it.

The People's Republic of America
The People's Republic is another new country, lead by the young and mentally-challenged Comrade Eric Queensen. It is highly unorganized, and unlikely to survive much longer.

The Republic was founded on the values of Old America's enemy, Communism. Like most Communist countries, it soon began to look a bit like a dystopian novel, but without the level of organization those generally enjoyed. Like Rome, it has a hard time keeping a leader, largely due to assassinations and suicides, and almost all of its leaders have been very young, and very insane. That is likely why it is such an Orwellian fuckup.

Due to the highly unorganized army, it has a low population - most people that could flee, did. It has a high mutant population, and more robots than one would think normal.

It has enemies in Texas, the Old US, The Fjord and California. It has no allies that are willing to mention it in public.

Arabia
Arabia is one of the more organized Western countries, and likely (and unfortunately) the most rational. It is a well-populated, relatively happy country, and is lead by Tisroc Azul.

Although Arabia was founded only recently, it is an old idea, sprouting up not long after Fire Day. The name was likely given to the region due to the now-desert like terrain, and a raider group that used to inhabit the area, which went by the name of the Arabian Knights.

When it was founded formally, it was given the name it had always gone by, and possibly for humor's sake, was given a "middle eastern" theme. Tisrocs are elected, like presidents, and the country's use of camels is likely just for practicality.

One of the most well-known features of Arabia is the Junkyard, a robot-only city. Much like the prefects, it is an independent "miniature" nation. Unlike the Prefects, they are peace-loving and harmless.

It is well liked, with allies in Texas, California and Salut, and enemies in the Fjord and Rio Grande.

The Kingdom of Salut
The Kingdom of Salut is like your uncle Henry; middle-aged, untamed, less than rational, and obsessed with knights. It is lead by the proud King Phineus Wolfgang III, and is the only hierarchy in New America.

Salut is a wild and untamed land, with lush forests and long winters. It is in this land of almost mythic charm that the Brotherhood of The Eagle was founded, a band of knights determined to eradicate the raiders, mutated mountain lions, and very much not mythological beast-men. Although this started just after the Fire Day, it was only later that this Brotherhood set up roots, built a castle, and became a nation.

No, there really is a castle. That's literal.

Unfortunately, they were never very good at eradicating raiders or mountain lions or wolf-men, and all these problems still plague the country. They were also never very good at increasing their population, or forming a true army, and are often picked on by more hostile countries.

They have extremely tolerant allies in Arabia and New England, and an enemy in the Fjord.

California
Just as no one was surprised when Texas became independent and grew, no one was surprised when California did the same. It is lead by President George Balaban, and is an organized, respectable country.

California has possibly the highest population, per a square mile, of any country in New America. It also has one of the largest armies, and is one of the more well set-up countries. Unfortunately, it is also pushy, working its way into every discussion it can, and it can be very controlling to its citizens. Because of this, the other countries try and avoid it, while still keeping an eye on it.

It is plagued by natural disasters, which have only gotten worse with time, and horribly mutated people and insects. The hills have eyes and claws in California.

It has allies in Arabia, The Old US, New England and the Cherokee Nation. It has enemies in the Fjord, the People's Republic, and The Rio Grande Republic.

The Rio Grande Republic
The Rio Grande Republic is a small, hostile nation, that has only not been eradicated because of how small it is, and how well dug-in it is. It is lead by Tulio Rammerez.

The Rio Grande Republic is a lot like a small, under-socialized dog; loud, nippy, and a royal pain in the ass, but too small to do any real damage or worry about. Although very aggressive with its neighbors, conducting small raids along their borders, it has never done any real damage. Most of the unpleasantries happen when one is forced to go through the Rio Grande. Although many a lost caravan has gone into the Rio, few ever came back out.

According to the scarce reports from people who escape the Rio, it has a booming slave industry, a mutated scorpion problem, and several undetonated nuclear missiles at its disposal. No official reports exist.

It has no allies, but many enemies, including Texas, Arabia, and California.

The Neutral Region
The Neutral Region technically isn't a country, although it is counted towards the total; instead, it is an unclaimed region at the tip of what was once Florida.

It has been unclaimed for many reasons, including the reports of "swamp men", the incredibly high raider population, the mutated alligators and the supposedly giant snakes. Most travelers avoid it entirely, finding the legends of Pirate's Gold not worth investigating with such high risks.

It technically has no enemies or allies, and could be considered part of the Confederacy.


Races
There are several playable "races" in SoMC&SS; these have been described in brief below. Again, all races are playable, but they may not be available at the start of the game, and they all have their own drawbacks. An underlined name indicates a class that is not yet playable. Keep checking back to see if it is now, or contact customer support to see if an exception can be made.

Humans
The most common, and arguably, most boring race in the game are regular humans. These are the lucky chaps who have gotten through life organic, unmutated and ungenetically altered, and thanks to that, have avoided most cultural scorn. In 2334, racism and sexism are considered outdated; it's all about hating on muties now, kids!

Regular humans have no special skills or abilities, although, again, they are not particularly hated.

With the exception of the Fjord's Army, the Prefect Colony and the Junkyard, all major countries and cities are lead by "vanilla" humans.

Robots and Androids
Another common "race", most robots and androids (or, "mechanical men", as they are often refereed to) were made before the war, surviving thanks to their practical immortality. Unfortunately, 200+ years is a long time without a tune-up, and most pre-war 'bots are suffering from some form of damage or disability. Exposed parts (in androids), rust, damaged electronics (most often the eyes), missing limbs and what can best be described as mental deficiencies are all common.

Androids, especially ones who still look fairly human, are generally treated with some degree of respect (and, nostalgia for better times), at least in the more "civilized" locales. Robots (and visibly damaged androids) usually fare worse, being treated like second-class citizens at best, and beasts of burden at worst.

To avoid predujust (and hopefully get repaired), the mechanical men have formed a thriving city in Arabia, known simply as the Junkyard (a name given to it by unoriginal human visitors). The Junkyard is often considered the most technological place left in New America, if not the world, and rarely is challenged because of this.

Some androids and robots have been made post-war, mostly in the Junkyard to help boost the population. These "newer" models are usually less well built than pre-war robots, but have less damage.

Prefects & Exiles
Possibly even before Old America was founded, the Prefects lived in what had once been rural Pennsylvania, and all efforts to eradicate, move or commune with them have been ineffective at best.

The Prefects are the most well-known example of pre-war science gone bad, and are the descendants of genetically altered super soldiers. It is most commonly believed that they had been stored in a bunker shortly before the war, and emerged not long after Fire Day to attempt to rebuild society. Although records indicate they were once peaceful (if not a bit anti-social), they have become a violent thorn in Old America's side since then.

The main problem with Prefects lies in their religion; a twisted form of extremely conservative Christianity, mixed with Spartan ideals. The Prefects strive for perfection amongst themselves, going as far as to slaughter imperfect infants. Because of this ideal, they are constantly trying their society, forcing it to become better or die. Likely, they did not emerge this way, and these ideals became part of their society over time.

Parties stupid enough to go near the colony or, worse, interfere with Prefects, are usually attacked and quickly subdued. Fortunately, much like a hive of bees, the Prefects only become dangerous when disturbed, and have yet to make an attack against Old America or any other country, for that matter.

The threat lies in their exiles, the members of Prefect society deemed too insane or dangerous to remain within the colony. These men and women are marked with the sign of the Lord, and sent into the wastes to live as Pariahs. Most wander aimlessly, attacking anything they deem a threat (and most things look like threats to them); others settle down and become hermits, living off the land; a few attempt to integrate into society, with mixed results.

It is not hard to pick a Prefect out of a crowd, especially when in amongst most "wastelanders". Prefects are tall, visibly muscular (even in women), and appear generally better "cared for" than most; many possess almost super-human strength, speed and agility; almost all of them are far more educated than most "normies", especially in the subject of pre-war history; mental disease is common, likely due to inbreeding and poor upbringing, with schizophrenia being the most wide-spread.

Beast-Men
The rarest of all races, Beast-men are another example of botched science; unlike Prefects, who are entirely human, they are genetically spliced with animals. Because of this, they have a clearly in-human appearance, with most looking like bad horror movie monsters.

Although hideous, they generally have intelligence on-par with full-humans, and tend to be fairly stable individuals. Unfortunately, most wasteland societies do not wait long enough to see this before they begin shooting, and thus beast-men usually hide if at all possible.

As most of them are sterile, they are an incredibly rare race. How they have survived this long at all is a mystery.

Mutants & Mutant Animals
Mutants are another (unfortunately) common race; thanks to the high levels of radiation, other toxins, and in some cases, the limited genetic pool, there are plenty of genetic mutants around New America, with them being especially common in Texas, New England and California.

Generally, mutants suffer from unfortunate birth defects, ranging from cleft lips to missing limbs to parasitic twins; in more rare cases, they have more "beneficial" birth defects, such as psychic powers, super strength or immunity to radiation. Again, these cases are incredibly rare, and usually paired with more visible and harmful defects.

In most areas, mutants are treated with pity or, at worse, minor disgust; in a few areas, including the Fjord, they are eradicated on sight, to help clean the genetic pool.

Toggle Rules

Rules of SoMC&SS
When playing SoMC&SS on multiplayer servers (kindly hosted by RPGateway), please follow the rules listed below. A handy character profile has also been included, to make creating your wasteland wanderer easier!


1. Please follow RPGateway's rules at all times.

2. Use your common sense; do not God-Mod, power-play, etc.

3. Please try to post regularly, at least once or twice a week. If you cannot post this regularly for whatever reason, please tell us ahead of time. Things come up, and we understand, but try and give us some warning. Similarly, if you want to leave the RP, please tell us so we can do something with your character(s).

4. Write well. Give us a couple meaty paragraphs at least, check your spelling and grammar, and generally give your posts some effort. Everyone makes mistakes, and everyone gets writer's block, but in general, aim for quality.

5. Make sure your characters are well-written, too. Don't make blatant self-inserts or Mary-sues, and make sure your character will work in this world.

6. You may have as many characters as you can control; you can make them whenever, too. Meaning, you can make four characters at the start, but only use one for a while and introduce the others later.

7. At the start of the role play, only humans, exiles, androids/robots and muties will be playable, and most characters will either be mercs, or merchants/civilians with something to barter with so they can get mercenary protection. Once we get out of Blacksburg, there will be more opportunities for less "classy" civilians, raiders, etc., so don't despair. Beast-men and prefects will be introduced eventually.

8. You do not need to use the character profile provided, and if you do use it, you may alter it. It's just here to help.

9. Have fun, obviously, and don't be afraid to message me (Broski1984) if you need any help!

Character Profile
Remember, you don't have to use this; it's simply here to help.

Code: Select all
[b]General[/b] (Put this in Description)

[u]Name[/u] -

[u]Aliases / Nick-Names[/u] -

[u]Race[/u] -

[u]Age[/u] -

[u]Height[/u] -

[u]Weight[/u] -

[b]Appearance[/b] (Also in Description)
(Pictures are fine, but text is preffered!)

[u]Build[/u] -

[u]Face[/u] -

[u]Eye Color[/u] -

[u]Hair[/u] - (Facial hair, if applicable, goes here)

[u]Mutations, Damage, Beast-Man Attributes[/u] - (If applicable)


Obviously, you will need to do something for personality and history; this is only to help with appearance.

Browse All » 14 Settings to roleplay in

The Prefect Colony

The Prefect Colony by RolePlayGateway

"See, the day of the LORD is coming, a cruel day, with wrath and fierce anger, to make the land desolate and destroy the sinners within it." Isaiah 13:9

The Confederacy

The Confederacy by RolePlayGateway

"We shall not lose this war twice, men. Our ancestors fought, and they lost, but we will avenge them, and take what is rightfully ours." - General Jebediah's speech to the Fifth Infantry at Lexington.

New England

New England by RolePlayGateway

"New England has a harsh climate, a barren soil, a rough and stormy coast, and yet we love it, even with a love passing that of dwellers in more favored regions." - Henry Cabot Lodge

Texas

Texas by RolePlayGateway

"Texas is a state of mind. Texas is an obsession. Above all, Texas is a nation in every sense of the word." - John Steinbeck

Cherokee Nation

Cherokee Nation by RolePlayGateway

"Cherokee people, Cherokee tribe, So proud to live, so proud to die, But someday when they learn, Cherokee Nation will return, Will return." - Cherokee Nation by Paul Revere & The Raiders

The Fjord's Land

The Fjord's Land by RolePlayGateway

"Cattle die, kinsmen die; the self must also die. I know one thing which never dies: the reputation of each dead man." - Nordic Proverb

The People's Republic of America

The People's Republic of America by RolePlayGateway

"Communists should be the first to be concerned about other people and country and the last to enjoy themselves." - Zhao Ziyang

Arabia

Arabia by RolePlayGateway

"Arabia has a long history, and it is a bloody one. And, while we may of lost our blood lust over the generations, and become a truly noble people, we still can remember how to fight. Do not forget that." - Tisroc Azul

The Junkyard

The Junkyard by RolePlayGateway

"The little computer knew then that computers would always grow wiser and more powerful until someday... someday... someday..." - Someday, by Isaac Asimov

The Kingdom of Salut

The Kingdom of Salut by RolePlayGateway

"We knights are blessed in that we do not run from death. We seek it, grasp it by the throat and demand honor in our passing." - Tristan, from Arthurian legends

California

California by RolePlayGateway

"Everything is just better in California - the wine, the food, fruits and vegetables, the comforts of living. Even the instrumentalists are generous and curious. Everything is wonderful." - Beth Anderson

The Rio Grande Republic

The Rio Grande Republic by RolePlayGateway

"I would rather die standing than live on my knees!" - Emiliano Zapata

The Neutral Region

The Neutral Region by RolePlayGateway

"Those who say my country is wild and untamed, have clearly never been to the Neutral Zone, and felt a thousand blood thirsty eyes upon their back." - King Phineus Wolfgang III

The New United States

The New United States by Broski1984

"And, rise like a Phoenix from the ashes we shall, for we are Americans, and Americans do not ever give up." - Landon Lincoln's inaugural speech.

The Story So Far... Write a Post » as written by 9 authors

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#, as written by Hells13
Battery at 100%.
The sudden jolt that Bob felt was the rejuvination of energy that swelled across his metal body. Bob does not feel but in his circuitry was a little bit of overconfidence over the Fjord, even more so when Dyardin attached his rifle to his useless right arm.
Just as the Model TK-39 was about to say something cocky to match his condition, the android spoke again.
"...Give me covering fire as you make your way back to the Caravan, and I'll catch up. Now go!"

The robot was shocked or rather first froze at the order he was given, knowing that if he followed it he would leave Dyardin to a possible yet gruesome death. Yet he is a latest model of robotics and thinking, things that I may not have begun to understand. Then this would make me-
"Affirmitive." Bob said, Having his legs walk backward, torso still in front of the enemy with his new 'hand' which is just the rifle attached to the end of his right arm, and the little amount of bullets left in his left armto defend Dyardin as accurately as possible.

The robot quickly joined the caravan once again, standing next to Karen, firing at the Fjord using mainly his left arm and occasionaly his new right 'hand' which was the Dyardin's rifle attached to his right arm, to fire.
"The android has his own plans. We should commence our escape right now." He said increasing the decibal voloume of his monotone words, so the owner of the caravan could hear him.

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#, as written by Soki
Luke was about to reply when the first of the series of explosions went off. He actually smiled, a genuine smile. He was glad that he wouldn't be bored now, as everyone, ran around making sure everything was ready for them to leave. He too moved towards wagon 3; though within the heat of the hysteria he still had time to laugh as he watched the rounded, man fall out of the wagon and shook his head climbing inside and moving towards the back, and finding the girl there already, "heh, figured you'd be back here" was all he said. He wasn't the happiest guy watching both his Android friend and the slot bot run off. Though being rejoined by Bob wasn't to surprising. "Welcome back bot. " He said and fired off a round into the chest of one of the Fjord's rider's, watching him tumble out of the saddle.

Bob was right; Dyardin would have his own idea, and Luke would rather not die today; gripping the bolt and pulling it back sharply, releasing the round casing from the chamber and firing off another shot; he clipped, the shoulder of one of the foot soldiers, sending him to the ground and tripping up a few behind him, oh how glad he was that he actually paid attention to gun practice back at the colony. He turned, placing the rifle down in the corner of the wagon where he was perched moving towards the front to look at Hogan, waiting for the orders to get this caravan a moving; and hopefully surviving.

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((I will drastically alter my writing style as I please because I am currently writing bi-polar or something. I swear, I've had past-tense, current-tense, and I think future-tense between these posts. OH WELL.))

The mules were harnessed, luggage hastily thrown on wagons, customers loaded (and then reloaded, in the case of John), and faster than most caravans could manage (that's why you go with D&M, folks), the party was off... like a pack of three-legged turtles. They were slow going, Hogan would admit, but if his clients thought it was easy moving something like this without warning, they were wrong - and wearing blinders. To be honest, they were doing better than the other caravans around them, some of which weren't even trying to flee - their leaders were too busy gaping at the explosions like dying fish.

Within a few moments, the mules and the few merc-owned horses had picked up speed, going at a moderate trot and slowly putting the chaos behind them. Already, D&M Party 23 was at the front of the fleeing pack, and as morbid as the idea was, Hogan was glad the other caravans were having more trouble, glad they were stuck between his own party and the Fjord's Army. A distraction was what they needed.

Fortunately, it seemed most of his clients were able-bodied soldiers, capable of fending off the Fjord just as well as his own employees. Unfortunately, the Fjord wasn't something you could beat that easily. A few well-placed shots might drop a dozen, two dozen of their soldiers - but hundreds more awaited. It was less an army, and more a hive of incredibly angry, deranged bees. The Fjord's Bee-Hive would be immensely more accurate of a title.

"Stop firing at once," he ordered, as he rode along side Wagon 3, "we certainly don't need the attention right now."

It was only when Bob mentioned Dyardin's absence that he noticed the android was gone, or that the other robot had even left. Perhaps he was going a bit too blind to continue this, if he hadn't noticed the tin-can walk off and then return. He nodded in response, before returning to the front of the caravan. Ahead, a mile or so up the road, the shrubby bushland and over-grown fields grew thicker, becoming thin woods that seemed to continue thickening as they headed west-ward. If they could get there, get blocked from view, they could probably make it. Hopefully. It would at least make them less of a target, when compared to the city.

If they're really lucky, they'll not only get there, but one of the wagons won't get caught in the pot-holes that make up most of the road, or, at least, nothing of importance will fall out. It's defientally going to be a bumpy ride.

~~~~

New objective!
Thicker Than Blood
Mission Details:
Be the Fjord's youngest son, Malachai.
ERROR! ERROR!
Malachai is unplayable!

Back at Blacksburg, the PLAYER attempts to become Malachai, the fourth and youngest son of the Fjord - the apple of the old war-horse's eye, and the bane of the legendary army. For, while his older brothers, Isaiah, Ezekiel and Mordecai became figure-head generals who never saw battle, or scholars, or tyrannical mayors, Malachai was filled with blood lust that could not be sated by such trivial jobs.

Instead, he longed to be a warrior, a soldier like his father before him, hacking and slashing with the slave army. And until recently, things had gone pretty well all things considered.

Until an android by the name of Dyradin came along, and unlike most before him, charged into the swarm of purple and red, and hacked his own bloody path. The android cut into poorly-armed foot soldier and masked general alike, and Malachai was no exception. He hadn't even seen the robotic man coming, had only felt the blade enter his chest, spear his heart, and then recoil, before his feet gave out and he collapsed to the ground, bleeding out and staining his coat an even darker red, before anyone even noticed.

It wasn't until later, that one of the Fjord's most trusted men, Colonel Jaakan, found the lifeless body, hoisted it upon his shoulders, and returned it to camp so it could return home and receive proper burial.

Although all forms of battle and blood lust are prized by the Fjord and his men, no kind is held in higher regard than revenge, especially when it avenges kinfolk, a trait held from the army's Prefect start.

Soon there would be hell to pay, for the metal man and his comrades, for when the Fjord would find out, no volcano would be able to match his fury.

((I hope that didn't cross the boarders of God modding to strongly; I just sort of needed fuel for the Fjord, to put some other plans in action, and it, well, seemed like a good opportunity. I will make a character profile for Jaakan shortly; the Fjord will remain an NPC for most, if not all of the game, to be controlled to a limited extent by everyone; his other three sons are open for play, if anyone wants 'em.))

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#, as written by Smiley
(Woot! Dyardin the super-android-warrior!)

Dyardin hacked and slashed through the poorly-armored troops like they were nothing. At one point, he even started to shout insults at them, and caused confusion. How? He shouted in Japanese. He would yell things like, "武器なしにあったようにすべての戦い!" or "ただの機械は突然あなた方皆を取ることができる! それはいかに感じを作る!か。" He continued to slash away until he met what seemed to be their leader.

He leapt up and brought the sword straight into the man's chest, yelling, "落とされたあなたの僚友の血によって削られる私の刃の刺し傷を感じなさい!" then drew the blade out, watching the man's body fall. He quickly went back to fighting the entire mass of this Fjord army at once, and he was winning. "Surely the legendary Fjord army could do better than this!" He called out, tauntingly. "How many of you are there? How many?! Thousands? Hundreds of thousands?!? And yet you all fall to the point of my blade! How many of you are skilled enough that you could possibly challenge my sword?!?!?"


As it turns out, none of them.


Standing in the midst of a bloody battlefield, Dyardin stood victorious. All that hadn't been cut down had retreated or hid. Holding his sword in the air, he cried out, "I am the victor of this fight! Let all who stand in the path of my blade perish before its might!" Then brought it down. It was time to return to the caravan. He turned to the direction that the caravan had gone, and leaned forward. A few flaps opened up on his back, and a wave of heat shot from under his feet. He lifted off the ground and began to fly, then took off to the caravan, hoping they hadn't changed course.

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#, as written by Klause
"God damn it, wait for me you-" John cursed and then jumped back up on wagon three as it was starting to move, although the wagon was moving at a snail pace, John didn't want to be left behind, nor would he suffer the torture of walking the hole way himself, so getting onboard the wagon quickly became almost a survival instinct.

"God damn Fjord, God damn stinking animal, God damn tin cans, god damn it all," John swore as he was onboard the wagon. He could feel that he had don unnecessary work in order to get onboard the wagon as he could feel sweat drops slowly mow down on his forehead. John disliked, if not hated, doing manual work, nothing more than a quick stroll and lifting a glass filled with whiskey was acceptable for him, for everything else, he had servants to do it for him.

He sat up only to hear the mercenary leader yell that they ought to stop firing, Yes, cowboy, like it would make much of a difference now that - Wait, where's my hat? Looking around he could see that he had dropped his own cowboy hat when he had fallen down. Anyone could easily had jumped off the wagon, ran back to get it and then get back on the wagon in less then thirty seconds. John, however, wasn't the average man, he was lazier, less motivated, and downright selfish. Never mind that, I can buy another hat.

He ran a hand through his hair and closed his eyes briefly, before he opened them again and looked to see if their movement was getting them anywhere. The quicker the better, for John still had his reasons to get away from Blacksburg.

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The informally trained sniper continues to either kill or cripple the Fjord plundering in the wagon's wake. She hopes that most of the innocents can get away, but it's a desperate hope when faced against the size of the raiding army. Karen oddly feels better when Bob is nearby. His robotic voice soothes her and helps her focus on firing precisely fatal shots. The woman's focus isn't jarred when Lucas (despite how unsettling he behaves) sidles up and makes some form of remark to her. Karen's green eye remains glued to her scope as she takes down some of the offending brutes. This feels a lot like home again just being out here and taking down the stuff of nightmares. Only this time they don't have scales.

She managed to ignore John's blubbering in the background and considered pistol whipping him. The last thing this wagon needs is an overweight snob going into hysterics. Still it doesn't feel that it's her call to make. When the mercenary leader came up on horseback and demanded they stop firing the hooded female nods placidly. She pulls Shep down from the perch she made in the back of the wagon, hitching it around to her backside. However her hands ghost along the pistols named Silas and Mordecai. In case of any future attack she'll be ready with them at hand.

Karen glances skyward and squints at a shape in the clouds moving too streamlined for a bird. It nearly looks like a missile. With luck it'll be the android who chose to stay behind in Blacksberg to defend the citizens. Ducking inside she faces the front and leans back, stretching her crossed legs out before her while more or less dozing inside of her hood. Might as well take the brief time now to relax and go along the ride. The silent ebony woman can only look ahead for a bright future in the Junk Yard working on machinery in her friend's garage.

The setting changes from The New United States to The Fjord's Land

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[((I will likely just use this POV this one time.))

>Sub-plot opened!
>Loading scenario...
>Scenario loaded!
>Folsom Prison Blues
>And I ain't seen the sunshine since I don't know when,
I'm stuck in Folsom prison and time keeps dragging on."



~~~
May 13th, 2334 - Folsom Prison, Within the Fjord's Land

Your name is Marcus Torrez, and you have been in "the hole" for six days now (the name always struck you as odd, because it isn't a hole, and it there are clearly more than one, but oh well!), you think, although it is very hard to keep track of time when you can't really see the sun. You've had a lot of time to think, though, a lot of time to sort out your thoughts and try and figure out what to do. Unfortunately, you never were really that smart, so you still aren't really sure what to do. Well, that isn't true; you know what to do, and that is escape, but you don't know how to do what you have to do.

Escape is defientally something you should be doing. The only reason you are still in the hole, is because the Fjord really doesn't know what to do with someone so damned useless; you aren't a good fighter, even though you try to be (blood just makes you sick, and when it's the blood of something you killed, that's even worse), and you aren't strong enough to do manual labor in the fields. You won't even pose a challenge for new recruits as sparring practice. They're probably just out there digging your grave, but this unseasonably warm weather is slowing them down, or maybe they forgot you were even locked up in here.

The latter actually seems worse, when you think about it, and you have. You have not been fed since you were put in here, and your only water has come from a leaky pipe above your head. There is no toilet, and the hole is barely large enough to devote a corner to your waste. Even though you are exceptionally short, you still can't stand in here, and you have spend most of your time curled in the fetal position against the door, thinking or whispering to Catalina. And, speaking of Catalina, after you attempted to nibble on her rubber, she has not spoken to you, and your apologies have done nothing to condole you.

No, dying alone in here of starvation or rat bites (oh god, the rats) is a lot worse than dying out there.

All the more reason to escape, if you can only figure out how.

~~~
May 14th, 2334 - Folsom Prison, Within the Fjord's Land

You are crying after an argument with Catalina when he is thrown into the cell next to yours. It is the first time you have heard a guard or another prisoner in three days, since the nice lady next to you stopped talking, just like Catalina. You can't handle the cold shoulder from any more broads, gosh darn it.

For a second, you think the guard who brought the boy is going to drag you out, when he stops by your cell, but no. No, he keeps going, walking past you and on down the hall. That throws you into fresh hysterics, and it's sometime before you remember your new friend.

You can see him and hear him, unlike with the woman, who you could only hear. There is a hole in the metal separating you two, just big enough to put an eye against and look through. Maybe, you can make this work - figure out something together. You open your mouth to speak, and then close it again, remembering that, despite their negligence, the guards are never far, and always listening.

No, you need to come up with something else. After a minute of tiring brain storming (it's hard to think now, after so long without food), you begin to rummage through your pant pockets, eventually pulling out half a match stick and a crumpled up hand-written receipt from a grocer, a purchase likely made days before your capture.

Using dust and sludge from the floor (careful to get sludge that isn't too gross), you begin to scribble a note. It takes longer than you would hope, but you have nothing if not time in the hole. You first scratch out the original writing on the receipt, then begin your own note, a true masterpiece for the ages considering your semi-illiteracy and the fact that it is a letter written with mold and a matchstick. Eventually, it is finished, and you admire your handiwork.

"2 Apples - $6
1 Pear - $2.50
1 Water - $4
1 Can of tuna - $4
1 Loaf of bread - $3

ignore that bit boy this is a receep sry didnt have other paper
we must get out rite now boy
we canot stey nymore
they will kil us
me mostly
but u 2 sumday
wat do u hav on u
also do u hav ny food"


It's beautiful. Hopefully, he can read your chicken scratch and through all the runs of slime. Hell, hopefully he knows how to read, period.

Gently, as to not upset your writing, you fold up the piece of paper, and push it through the hole to the boy. Now, you play the waiting game.

((This was the easiest way to write that and I am sorry it came out as comedy. The character is likely Kaze's, although it could be someone else. The girl could be someone, too, and we can work a chain of characters into this or something. Like the prisoner next to the boy is someone else, and so on.))

The setting changes from The Fjord's Land to The New United States

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#, as written by Soki
The hysterics and voices of others disappeared; the noise of the charging soldiers did as well, his focus only on killing or maiming the Fjord soldiers. Though, as the boss rang out with orders; he growled slightly, pulling back and placing the gun in the corner he sat in. Oh how the fun had died away. He kept his face to the back, just watching as the distance climbed between them and the horde of soldiers. though he was surprised to see something rocket towards the sky, no doubt it'd be his android chum. He let out a slight sigh the tension in his body starting to disappear as he began to relax. He couldn't help but wonder what else they were going to encounter on this trip, he had signed up for this; so he'd not let his surprise show. Then again he wasn't sure if he actually knew at the time what he was signing up.

He was calmer now, the ADHD and ADD seeming to exit his mind-frame for now as he stared off into the distance that they were leaving behind; his first thought about how glad that he didn't try anything stupid, being left behind; and possibly dying didn't really sit well with how he felt like living his life then again did it ever fit like that? He removed the helmet from his skull placing it beside the gun as he laid his head back and just sat there. This would be the most opportune time to get some sleep, he'd be working any other time and right now they were just trying to 'get out of dodge' so to speak. He could only hope that he'd wake up in the wagon, last time he was on some sort of mission like this; he went to sleep during the ride and woke up in a ditch along with several corpses, he didn't feel like reliving that again.

(sorry this post might seem crappy but it's all i can put out right now T~T Sad day for Soki)

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(EDIT: Reposted in correct place)

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((moved))

The setting changes from The New United States to The Fjord's Land

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It’s been a long, horrible day. Jackson (Jax! Goddamit!) had been demoted from a soldier in training to a slave. At first he would have been happy. It meant he didn’t have to shoot the guns, to have to march out and to wage war, to burn, to kill. He got to work in the garage, to do what he did best, working with cars. But the cars had been in such terrible shape he almost didn’t know what to do with them. His father would have known. Except, he had been killed by the Fjord’s Army.

For all his troubles, the guards had given him a plate of questionable substances, and after they watched him finish it, thrown in him to this dank cell. It was dimly lit, but even so, he could see the glint of rodent’s eyes as they scurried around. The ceiling was so low he couldn’t stand up, had to resort to sitting. The floor felt cold and slightly damp through his thin clothes. Jax wondered how filthy the floor was. It was thoroughly miserable, and the hysterics of the guy in the cell next to him really didn’t improve the atmosphere. He couldn’t figure out which was worse. Now he sort of understood what it meant to want to kill for something. He shuddered. No, actually, he still didn’t. Jax sat in the corner and stared up at the ceiling. Maybe it would have been better to be a soldier. At least he might have had a chance of escape.

As he sat pondering his miserableness, Jax noticed that the man next door had gone curiously quiet. Suddenly, like manna from the heavens, a little sheet of paper slipped through a hole in the wall and plopped down at Jax’s feet. He picked it up.

Jax stared at the note kind of blankly. It took him a moment to realize it was not just a receipt, and that the muddy markings at the bottom were actually writing. It took him several moments more to decipher the words.

He stared at it, feeling all cold.

we must get out rite now boy
we canot stey nymore
they will kil us
me mostly
but u 2 sumday


Well, that was unpleasant. But escape? God, he would kill for that. Would he? Jax made a mental note to stop dropping references to killing for the moment.

He almost ruined everything. Jax didn’t have a pencil or a writing utensil of any sort, and he almost replied back verbally. But the memory of the guards jammed the words back down his throat. Just like that gun. The gun, the gun, they had jammed that down his friend's throat. And pulled the trigger.

He swallowed. Jax felt around his nasty cell, scarred fingers searching for a something that he can make scratches or markings with. When his search turned up nothing, Jax knelt and felt around the walls. Luckily, he found a loose nail. He worked it out of the wall carefully. It was rusted and not at all sharp. Pity, he could have used a weapon.

Sorry
got nothing
doesn’t matter
It’s impossible to escape.


He wrote. The nail wobbled madly as he tried to make markings with it, and the rusty marks often faded. He looked at disgust at his terrible penmanship. At least it was more legible than the other guy’s. He looked in pity at his message. also do u hav ny food.

This guy had it worse than Jax. Here he was complaining about the food barf he had gotten earlier. This guy didn’t even have anything to eat.

He added,
I work on the cars
I can try to get something. Food & tools


He folded the paper up again and passed it through the hole more than a little nervously.

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They'd taken her roller blades. Maria didn't care so much about her machete or her baseball bat; they can be easily replaced. The roller blades, however, can not. And even though she was locked in a jail cell without food or water and knew she was probably going to die in the near future, all she could think about was her roller blades. It distracted her from thinking about food.

She'd been captured several weeks ago and been stuck in her cell since. She'd never heard of the Fjords taking female prisoners before; females aren't good for physical labor. It didn't take her long to figure out that the soldiers were only keeping her temporarily, for their own "personal use". For the first two weeks, the soldiers provided her with food. After that, one of the soldiers tried to have his way with her; she broke his nose and the meals stopped coming. She missed the food, disgusting slop that it was, but was glad to be done with the soldiers' harassment; it was likely to start back up soon, now that she was weak from hunger.

It'd been a few days since she talked to the strange man in the cell next to her. He was dragged in the day after she broke the soldier's nose. Although he struck her as odd, it was nice to have someone to talk to. However, she grew tired of talking and instead sat in the darkness, listening to the strange man talk to himself. He'd starting crying when she heard some soldiers walk in. Mentally, she prepared herself for what she thought would be another rape attempt, but the soldier walked right past her and the strange man, dumping some poor soul into an empty cell. The soldier left and the strange man went into a fit. Maria rested her head against the wall and thought of her roller blades, trying to block out the sound. She'd just started thinking of the perfectly round, plastic wheels when a rat scurried across the floor, making little clicking noises as he went. She watched the rodent disappear into the darkness and the jail fell quiet.


Too quiet. The strange man was no longer throwing a fit. She crawled over to their shared wall and pressed her ear against it, expecting to hear him muttering to himself about someone named "Catalina", but instead she heard nothing. Curious, she knocked lightly.

((OOC: It's been a few years since I rp'd, so I'm a little rusty.))

The setting changes from The Fjord's Land to The New United States

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#, as written by Hells13
"Son-Son-Son-Son-Son-Son-Son-Son of a bitch."

Bob's speech module was acting up again, watching the counter of bullets in his left hand drop to 10 and the x number of bullets in his right hand, unknown to his system fly out thirty bullets of metal before the clicking of an empty gun sounded.
"Not-Not good."
Model TK-39's voice rang out again, his processes calculating the odds of survival until he had heard the caravan moving again. The slot machine started walking step by step, as robotically as he can next to the moving caravan.
"Odds of survival-100%-no wait."

The caravan kept moving and Bob kept up his abnormal pace of foot-raised-in-air-moved-horizontally-vertically-down-and-repeat. There did not seem to be a possible way to grab onto the handle of the wooden bar to get Wagon three. Mainly because the robot didn't have any hands, although the Model TK-39 did process a soloution.
"Acccelerate five meters ahead of the moving object, unlock spring capabilites within lower joints to launch 317.514659 kilograms to a safe distance of one meter.
Bob step by step, walked three meters ahead of the caravan, knees bent as soon as he got there. Pressure built up against the springs inside the slot machine as the robotic blue joints bent forward. Wagon number three unfortunatly, to anyone who had been conscious was greeted by a flying 700 pound, 6'5 Bob who had launched himself onto the wagon. In midair his metal body was perfectly horizontal, like a shot from a cannon has been fired and he twisted his front torso and head so it would face the ceiling upon impact.

Upon impact, it felt as if there was a mini quake on the wooden floor. Pity on the floor and the horses, who stopped when Bob landed on his back, suddenly burdened with the extra weight but shortly continued with their weight, pulling on the wagon.
Bob adjusted the f-stops in his eyes in order to get a better peripheral vision. On his left he could see Karen and on his right fat-man. The african american seemed to be a viable canidate of conversation.

"Hello Karen." Bob said from the wooden floor of the wagon, with the same mechanical voice as he used before, eyes seemingly locking on the ceiling.

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Even with the brief stop caused by the former-Slotmachine's body slam into the floor of Wagon 3, it took the caravan but a few more minutes to enter the sparse woods, and but a minute after that for the shrubby trees and half-dead brush to thicken into a formidable barrier against the eyes of Fjord troops. Unfortunately, the trees do little to block the sound of the second wave of Fjord troops hitting Blacksburg, or the smell of thick, oily smoke, and it's hard to pretend it's safe again, even as the trees grow thick and leafy enough to block out the blistering sun.

It takes the old caravan leader a few minutes more, until the sounds of possibly mutated mockingbirds (that isnot a pitch birds should be able to reach) drown out most of the gunfire, to stop shaking and start to slow the party down. There's no point in exhausting the mules further, when two-and-a-half miles* are already between them and the battle. At a steady walk, they'll be in West Virginia by tomorrow at noon, and that's good enough.

Dropping his own horse's gait further, he falls back along the side of Wagon 3, to check on his clients. With how his day's going, he's surprised to see no one (organic) caught a stray bullet.

"Bit of a rough start there, eh?" Hogan asks, barely succeeding in hiding the residual fear left over from the incident. "I've never seen the Fjord this far west," he begins, pausing to take a deep, less-than-calming breath, "but, I'm sure it'll be under control soon, and that's why you're leaving this city anyway." He's trying to calm them, he really is, but he's pretty sure it isn't helping, and that this isn't something that'll ever be under control.

It's about then that he squints hard, into the semi-darkness of the wagon, and remembers the android is missing. He sighs, and more to the Prefect-mercenary than anyone else, he begins talking again; "He was a good man, Dyradin was. Saved our hides, he did."

Hogan was never the master of mourning, especially when it came to androids he didn't know, but he'll be damned if he isn't going to try anyway.

The setting changes from The New United States to The Fjord's Land

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Marcus hadn't been expecting the note to come back so quickly, if it came back at all; in fact, if he were to listen to Catalina, the note was illiterate garbage, too blurry for anyone to actually read. So when it did come back, he was elated, a slight smile crawling across his face as the paper fell into his hands, before ever reading the content.

He unfolded it delicately, as to not upset any of the sloppy writing, and despite his mold blending a bit in with the rust, the boy's message was perfectly readable, if not a bit disheartening. If the lad thought escape was hopeless, than likely it was, and Catalina was right again, as per usual. He sighed sadly, before noting the extra bit of writing at the bottom; food & tools. His smile was reborn, crawling across his features into a toothy grin, awkwardly stretching his scar in the darkness. With a meal in his belly, and a tool in his hand, maybe things would be a little less hopeless.

The news relit the fire in his incredibly empty belly, and evidentally lightened Catalina's mood, for she was soon talking to him again, giving him fresh ideas on escape, that he was about to silence before the guards heard (sure, no one else had ever heard her, but you never know), when there came the knock. The sound nearly made him jump out of his skin before he realized the source.

It was the girl.

She wasn't dead, or even gone.

"Hello?" He whispered nervously, putting his face to the metal separating them, saying the first actual word to an actual human he'd spoken in days.

If it was her, and not some other prisoner, this would prove to be an excellent day indeed, all things considered. Maybe, just maybe, his friends could help him come up with some kind of idea, some plot to get out of here, and then things would be fine again, just him and Catalina in the open wastes, searching for some half-forgotten ideal.

((Shit post is shit. Can you tell I just woke up, ladies and gents? But, I had to write it while my minecraft server was down, else I'd forget. I feel I should note that in my headcanon, Catalina sounds like GLaDOS with a spanish accent. You're WELCOME.))

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Jax settled back down and slipped the nail back into his pocket. Hopefully he would need it in the near future. Jax was no genius. Far from it. But hopefully, between the two of them, they might be able to think up a way to escape.

Wouldn't that be nice? He'd only been in this cell for an hour, maybe two. And already he missed the warm Californian air he had grown up in. He didn't know exactly where he was now. Some shitty collection of Middle Eastern "states". Yeah. He had learned that somewhere. Anyways, it sucked more than California.

He let himself drift, feeling the feel of warm air, being able to run without hearing the clank of heavy shackles. Oh deep, man, how mature. And then he started to remember the fires, the RATATATATATAT of machine gun fire. Chips of stone, concrete, splashing. Shrieks of the dead and dying. The explosions. He had heard a man scream. He had never heard that. Girls screamed, and sometimes women. But when the bottom half of a man flies away, he can scream too. Scream while he watches as he paints the ground red. The tangles of red and pink and purple. Then he realizes that those tangles were once inside him and he screams and screams and...

Ok. No more daydreaming.

Jax fell to all fours like a dog, and almost lost his lunch? dinner? There was no time in this sunless world. Then he remembered that the man next door didn't have food, and that it would probably be the same for him sooner or later. Better to keep what shit he had left inside. He swallowed hard. Jax's throat felt raw and stung with the bile, but it was sure as hell better than starving to death.

So caught up in his morbid memories, he didn't hear the knock on stone, didn't hear the man next door whisper in reply. He went back to reminding himself that war was everywhere. He had almost allowed himself the folly of hope. Bad, bad Jax.

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[Gonna re post this :P]

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Placing her hand against the metal, Maria waited for a response. She wasn't even sure why she cared in the first place. Other than their converstaions, they knew nothing about each other. Hell, they'd never even exchanged names! Yet somehow she felt concern for the strange man.

When his response finally came, Maria couldn't help but a feel a little guilty. Afterall, she'd been ignoring his babbling for nearly four days now.

"Uh... Hey", she responded, not sure what to say. How do you say "sorry for ignoring you"? Speaking felt strange after being silent for so long. How are you holding up? She was careful to speak softly, so the guards wouldn't pick up on her voice.

She moved to get closer to wall, catching her jeans on a rusty nail protruded from the floor in the process.

Mierda she cursed, trying to get her jeans loose without ripping them.

((Crap post is crap. :P))

The setting changes from The Fjord's Land to The New United States

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#, as written by Soki
Once the slamming of bob hit the wagon his eyes opened and his sword was in his hand almost instantly, though once he realized what the disturbance was he groaned and put the weapon away. He wasn't expecting to be jolted awake by raining slot machines, but then again in this post- apocalyptic world what didn't happen? He shifted in his spot trying to get comfortable again, but before he could even attempt to doze off. The wagon came to a halt, and he realized they were now in a dense forest, he groaned slightly at the voice of Hogan. A rough start; wow either he enjoyed trying to make light of situations or he was just trying to hide his own fear. Then came the comment about them not being this far west and the whole 'under control' comment. "Yes sir, I believe everything will be rainbows and butterflies back in Blacksburg.." He commented sarcastically.

The mentioning of Dyradin, he couldn't help but burst out with laughter. "Geezer your a funny man, Dyradin's not dead, the guy's not gonna let a bunch of humans kill him, he'd take it as an insult!" He called out in between his gasps for air and laughter. He did grow serious though as he grabbed his rifle slinging it over his shoulder and climbing out of the wagon. "I'm going to take point, see what's what around here; we left in such a hurry, i bet every mutated predator knows we're here by now he stated nodding to Hogan, and off he went. He wasn't expecting to find anything dangerous, he never really did, that's what made this so much fun, when he did get attacked he could genuinely be surprised by it.

He sighed happily, the life of a merc with added mental defects, god it was a blast. He had left his helmet back in the wagon carelessly, but he didn't figure he'd really have to go all stealth here, if anything did attack him; he'd have his rifle, and sword; and best of all there was no need for stealth, besides anything he did kill could be dinner for tonight, oh food; now he realized why he was so groggy; he was hungry. Well looks like he was going hunting for now.

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The Prefect Colony

The Prefect Colony by RolePlayGateway

"See, the day of the LORD is coming, a cruel day, with wrath and fierce anger, to make the land desolate and destroy the sinners within it." Isaiah 13:9

The Confederacy

The Confederacy by RolePlayGateway

"We shall not lose this war twice, men. Our ancestors fought, and they lost, but we will avenge them, and take what is rightfully ours." - General Jebediah's speech to the Fifth Infantry at Lexington.

New England

New England by RolePlayGateway

"New England has a harsh climate, a barren soil, a rough and stormy coast, and yet we love it, even with a love passing that of dwellers in more favored regions." - Henry Cabot Lodge

Texas

Texas by RolePlayGateway

"Texas is a state of mind. Texas is an obsession. Above all, Texas is a nation in every sense of the word." - John Steinbeck

Cherokee Nation

Cherokee Nation by RolePlayGateway

"Cherokee people, Cherokee tribe, So proud to live, so proud to die, But someday when they learn, Cherokee Nation will return, Will return." - Cherokee Nation by Paul Revere & The Raiders

The Fjord's Land

The Fjord's Land by RolePlayGateway

"Cattle die, kinsmen die; the self must also die. I know one thing which never dies: the reputation of each dead man." - Nordic Proverb

The People's Republic of America

The People's Republic of America by RolePlayGateway

"Communists should be the first to be concerned about other people and country and the last to enjoy themselves." - Zhao Ziyang

Arabia

Arabia by RolePlayGateway

"Arabia has a long history, and it is a bloody one. And, while we may of lost our blood lust over the generations, and become a truly noble people, we still can remember how to fight. Do not forget that." - Tisroc Azul

The Junkyard

The Junkyard by RolePlayGateway

"The little computer knew then that computers would always grow wiser and more powerful until someday... someday... someday..." - Someday, by Isaac Asimov

The Kingdom of Salut

The Kingdom of Salut by RolePlayGateway

"We knights are blessed in that we do not run from death. We seek it, grasp it by the throat and demand honor in our passing." - Tristan, from Arthurian legends

California

California by RolePlayGateway

"Everything is just better in California - the wine, the food, fruits and vegetables, the comforts of living. Even the instrumentalists are generous and curious. Everything is wonderful." - Beth Anderson

The Rio Grande Republic

The Rio Grande Republic by RolePlayGateway

"I would rather die standing than live on my knees!" - Emiliano Zapata

The Neutral Region

The Neutral Region by RolePlayGateway

"Those who say my country is wild and untamed, have clearly never been to the Neutral Zone, and felt a thousand blood thirsty eyes upon their back." - King Phineus Wolfgang III

The New United States

The New United States by Broski1984

"And, rise like a Phoenix from the ashes we shall, for we are Americans, and Americans do not ever give up." - Landon Lincoln's inaugural speech.

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The Prefect Colony

The Prefect Colony by RolePlayGateway

"See, the day of the LORD is coming, a cruel day, with wrath and fierce anger, to make the land desolate and destroy the sinners within it." Isaiah 13:9

The Confederacy

The Confederacy by RolePlayGateway

"We shall not lose this war twice, men. Our ancestors fought, and they lost, but we will avenge them, and take what is rightfully ours." - General Jebediah's speech to the Fifth Infantry at Lexington.

New England

New England by RolePlayGateway

"New England has a harsh climate, a barren soil, a rough and stormy coast, and yet we love it, even with a love passing that of dwellers in more favored regions." - Henry Cabot Lodge

Texas

Texas by RolePlayGateway

"Texas is a state of mind. Texas is an obsession. Above all, Texas is a nation in every sense of the word." - John Steinbeck

Cherokee Nation

Cherokee Nation by RolePlayGateway

"Cherokee people, Cherokee tribe, So proud to live, so proud to die, But someday when they learn, Cherokee Nation will return, Will return." - Cherokee Nation by Paul Revere & The Raiders

The Fjord's Land

The Fjord's Land by RolePlayGateway

"Cattle die, kinsmen die; the self must also die. I know one thing which never dies: the reputation of each dead man." - Nordic Proverb

The People's Republic of America

The People's Republic of America by RolePlayGateway

"Communists should be the first to be concerned about other people and country and the last to enjoy themselves." - Zhao Ziyang

Arabia

Arabia by RolePlayGateway

"Arabia has a long history, and it is a bloody one. And, while we may of lost our blood lust over the generations, and become a truly noble people, we still can remember how to fight. Do not forget that." - Tisroc Azul

The Junkyard

The Junkyard by RolePlayGateway

"The little computer knew then that computers would always grow wiser and more powerful until someday... someday... someday..." - Someday, by Isaac Asimov

The Kingdom of Salut

The Kingdom of Salut by RolePlayGateway

"We knights are blessed in that we do not run from death. We seek it, grasp it by the throat and demand honor in our passing." - Tristan, from Arthurian legends

California

California by RolePlayGateway

"Everything is just better in California - the wine, the food, fruits and vegetables, the comforts of living. Even the instrumentalists are generous and curious. Everything is wonderful." - Beth Anderson

The Rio Grande Republic

The Rio Grande Republic by RolePlayGateway

"I would rather die standing than live on my knees!" - Emiliano Zapata

The Neutral Region

The Neutral Region by RolePlayGateway

"Those who say my country is wild and untamed, have clearly never been to the Neutral Zone, and felt a thousand blood thirsty eyes upon their back." - King Phineus Wolfgang III

The New United States

The New United States by Broski1984

"And, rise like a Phoenix from the ashes we shall, for we are Americans, and Americans do not ever give up." - Landon Lincoln's inaugural speech.

The New United States

"And, rise like a Phoenix from the ashes we shall, for we are Americans, and Americans do not ever give up." - Landon Lincoln's inaugural speech.

The Fjord's Land

The Fjord's Land Owner: RolePlayGateway

"Cattle die, kinsmen die; the self must also die. I know one thing which never dies: the reputation of each dead man." - Nordic Proverb

The Kingdom of Salut

The Kingdom of Salut Owner: RolePlayGateway

"We knights are blessed in that we do not run from death. We seek it, grasp it by the throat and demand honor in our passing." - Tristan, from Arthurian legends

The Junkyard

Arabia The Junkyard Owner: RolePlayGateway

"The little computer knew then that computers would always grow wiser and more powerful until someday... someday... someday..." - Someday, by Isaac Asimov

California

California Owner: RolePlayGateway

"Everything is just better in California - the wine, the food, fruits and vegetables, the comforts of living. Even the instrumentalists are generous and curious. Everything is wonderful." - Beth Anderson

The Rio Grande Republic

The Rio Grande Republic Owner: RolePlayGateway

"I would rather die standing than live on my knees!" - Emiliano Zapata

The Neutral Region

The Neutral Region Owner: RolePlayGateway

"Those who say my country is wild and untamed, have clearly never been to the Neutral Zone, and felt a thousand blood thirsty eyes upon their back." - King Phineus Wolfgang III

Arabia

Arabia Owner: RolePlayGateway

"Arabia has a long history, and it is a bloody one. And, while we may of lost our blood lust over the generations, and become a truly noble people, we still can remember how to fight. Do not forget that." - Tisroc Azul

The People's Republic of America

"Communists should be the first to be concerned about other people and country and the last to enjoy themselves." - Zhao Ziyang

New England

New England Owner: RolePlayGateway

"New England has a harsh climate, a barren soil, a rough and stormy coast, and yet we love it, even with a love passing that of dwellers in more favored regions." - Henry Cabot Lodge

Texas

Texas Owner: RolePlayGateway

"Texas is a state of mind. Texas is an obsession. Above all, Texas is a nation in every sense of the word." - John Steinbeck

Cherokee Nation

Cherokee Nation Owner: RolePlayGateway

"Cherokee people, Cherokee tribe, So proud to live, so proud to die, But someday when they learn, Cherokee Nation will return, Will return." - Cherokee Nation by Paul Revere & The Raiders

The Prefect Colony

"See, the day of the LORD is coming, a cruel day, with wrath and fierce anger, to make the land desolate and destroy the sinners within it." Isaiah 13:9

The Confederacy

The Confederacy Owner: RolePlayGateway

"We shall not lose this war twice, men. Our ancestors fought, and they lost, but we will avenge them, and take what is rightfully ours." - General Jebediah's speech to the Fifth Infantry at Lexington.

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