The War After

Scrapyard City

a part of The War After, by Specmarine.

A ‘major’ city

Specmarine holds sovereignty over Scrapyard City, giving them the ability to make limited changes.
135 readers have been here.
758 readers have visited this universe since Specmarine created it.

Copyright: The creator of this roleplay has attributed some or all of its content to the following sources:

lots of influence from many titles like samurai 7, full metal alchemist, and mecha

Setting

In the wrecks on what appears to be a capital ship, this city has all you need, food, showers, lighting, water, homes, commercial life, and the occasional mugging.

Scrapyard City

A ‘major’ city

Minimap

Scrapyard City is a part of Codoria.

3 Characters Here

Captain Invictus [6] "Commander Of the 224'th Wolf Brigade!...Do we howl?"
Lynn Harper [5] "The past holds many secrets, some that will take even the cautious by surprise."
Allyson Beckett [3] "Y'all behave now. Don't want'cha guts spilled over ma' bar."

Start Character Here »


Setting

Characters Present

No characters tagged in this post!

0.00 INK

Image

Setting

Characters Present

No characters tagged in this post!

0.00 INK

Scrapyard City


A fitting name for a city in this age, in the remains of a large capital ship that had crashed long ago on the planet. This massive city hosts what can be considered normal life. Large towering piles of scrap that scavengers dig through everyday to find working parts to keep their livelihood running, either by trading for food and water or keeping your air conditioning working for another hour. Of course there are many who simply skips the hard work to simply shoot someone in the back after they find something of value and run off before the scrapped together law enforcement finds them.

Of course, while people are not killing each other or living like a bunch of pack rats, they are enjoying life. Hanging out around the upper areas of the city where things are slightly more civilized than the lower salvage floors. Bars, homes and even locations that are there for other people like a police station...Or more accurately it might as well be a sheriffs office as frontier justice is a common punishment.

However, many call this place home. Or those that wander here decide its better to live her than the wastes outside.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Allyson Beckett

0.00 INK

#, as written by Byte
Scrapyard City.

It was nothing to write home about, really. A once glorious battle ship reduced to inhabit a mixture of the good, the bad and… well, the ugly. Far down below the far more “civilised” part of the city, scarred hands dug desperately for something worth to sell the nearest bloke with a gold tooth and a handful of cash while praying a more clever individual would rather just shoot the finder and keep it for themselves.

Yeah, nothing like the kill or be killed mentality crawling into a community. And here Allyson had a second thought that joining a group of people who actually knew what the fuck they were doing in life kept her nice and safe from wannabe vagrant kings and money grubbing crime lords.

“... Don’t matter where it comes from, I ain’t complainin’ about the cash.” A southern drawl underlined the muttered statement, a rough tone like voice chords scraped with sandpaper; matching the characteristics that many had come to expect from the woman standing behind the counter, tall and proud like a soldier come home from war.

Well, not so much war, but anyone brave enough to cross the wastes might as well be considered as such. Mad people with a penchant for looking death in the eyes and playing it as though that consequence means very little to them in the long run. Most paid their dues, but everyone did eventually.

Nobody escaped death…

Allyson mused on a thought, eyes lingering on several customers having a blast playing some illegal dice in the corner of the Scrapyard Bar. An unimaginative name to be sure, but it did the legwork that Allyson was very rarely willing to do. Marketing wasn’t her strong suit despite some individuals who were willing enough to spread the word with a bit more fervour than she was. Alcohol helped, too, and in about two months the woman’s bar had been struggling to keep up with a full house every other night.

“Oi! You cheatin’ bastard!”

Though sometimes she did wish business hadn’t gone so well…

Snapped from a bemusing moment of peace, Allyson’s eyes shot from one table to another, a hawk-like vision making note of some ragtag men (probably mercenaries, was hard to tell with every type of wastelander strapping saucepans on their shoulders) bellowing at the top of their voices at a not so clever man wearing a mixture between an engineering get-up and a tattered biker jacket with holes so big you may as well not bother putting it on.

Coke bottle glasses hang loosely on the man’s nose, his voice something not unlike a squeaky mouse panicking at the sight of several cats eager to leap at it for sport.

“I-I-I eh, I didn’t-t ch-h-heat, sirs.” He stammered on, clearly incapable of getting a clue that, maybe it was better he’d keep his mouth shut for once.

*KABLAM!*

The first blow hit right in the lower jaw, probably dislocating the thing, and it didn’t take Allyson long to jump in; A cold-hard stare piercing the pair of muscle bound mercenaries like a sharpened blade. “Alright, that’s ‘bout far enough fellas.” The woman spoke, a monotonous tone to it all. She cared very little for what had happened. In fact, the little mouse was as much a fool as the big guys, but if there was one rule Allyson would uphold. “No fightin’ in mah bar.”

She had a split second window to evade the right hook that came shortly after her demand, and with a nimble step to the right the bartender saw the opportunity to launch a solid elbow into the back of the man’s head with a resounding Thunk!, followed by a Snap! as one hand took hold of the man’s shoulder and a heavy boot slammed against a vulnerable part of a lower leg.

It was then that the second mercenary thought to join in with a not too subtle battle cry that gave Allyson ample time to duck underneath the forward jab of a broad fist after which she swiftly turned around with a savage punch to the man’s exposed side. Shattering a rib or two in the process.

Mercy was a foregone conclusion, but as foolhardy as the two men were they had received the message well enough. Two pairs of black eyes stared in shock as Allyson braced for another well-placed kick, hands raising up in surrender before whimpering (and limping) toward the exit in disgrace.

“T-t-thank y-”

“Shut up.” The woman cut in, approaching the poor fellow with something not unlike disgust. The man winced when she touched the side of his face. “Learned ya lesson?” A rhetoric, probably.

The man nodded weakly and went in search for a medic to tend to his jaw. The bartender sighed, pausing for a moment before promptly stating. “Alright, folks! Back to ya drinks!”

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Dr. Addler Character Portrait: Allyson Beckett

0.00 INK

Pat, pat, pat, pat, pat...

The sound of hurried light patter of small feet was barely audible over the much louder city life. Running rather nimbly through the rough n' tumble was an unusual sight, a tall figure dressed fully in white-and-blue, body covered in a light-blue zipped jumpsuit, giving the vague impression of a female form, and over the suit was an open flowing white lab coat. The face of the figure was obscured by a triangular visor, and a hood even hid the back of her head. Clothes looked fairly clean, cleaner than typical at least, with only minor tearing. The figure was carrying a large duffel bag as well, filled with supplies of some sort, and handling it pretty well.

"Ey, watch it!" a man yelled as the figure gracefully spun around to avoid bumping into him. As she did so, the coat revealed the back of the figure, a black symbol on the back of the suit resembling a stylized arrow pointing down with the number 17. To the few that have seen this symbol before, or at least were vaguely familiar, would know of some horror stories of a wartime bio-engineering facility, and a mad doctor operating just on the outskirts. "The hell?" the man mumbled, as the figure turned to quietly bow to him briefly, before sprinting off again, leaving him and a few others befuddled by the encounter.

This figure, as a name-tag dangling from the coat would indicate, possessed only the name of Lumina, and also apparently considered a physician herself by the inclusion of a nurse title. She was here to perform errands on behalf of the mad doctor himself, Dr. Hayden Addler. This would also imply, also, that the elegant form behind the suit was something not quite human, given the good doctor's reputation. Regardless, she had money, and was causing no harm, and yet, not all are okay with even that.

Making her way out, she happened by a bar, catching the aftermath of some sort of scuffle that occurred recently. She stopped, watching as a couple men came limping out the building. She tilted to the side, watching them curiously, them on the other hand being in far too much pain, and far too defeated to really pay much attention to their surroundings. Then a third, an sheepish fellow with thick glasses, holding his jaw, apparently, by his shifting eyes, in search of someone to attend to his painful situation.

Pat, pat, pat, pat...

The man soon had a shadow cast over him as Lumina now loomed over him, staring deeply at him. He nearly fell back at the figure's sudden approach, bracing for the worst as two gloved hands reached out for him, barely hiding the small claws on their tips. Jabs of pain would go through his head as the being felt his bruised face, only to utter confused and pained grunts. Shortly after, forcing the man's mouth open slightly, pressing a thumb inside his mouth and over a molar, the other holding his head still, and in a quick motion, and pop, pushes the jaw straight and then lifts up relocating it, before letting the man go and drop to a sitting position on the ground, holding his face in shock of what just transpired, and within only a few seconds.

"You stopped, what are you doing?" a tired man's voice popped through a communication device in the visor. Lumina tilted her head putting a finger on the side of her head where an ear would be for a human. "That is not a place to linger, the locals aren't exactly known for their... hospitality."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Captain Invictus

0.00 INK

The Wastes: Outskirts Of Scrapyard City


“Status report...Current time is...Unknown. Sun in currently shining above, location suggest morning...It’s been six months since landing...Lieutenant! How is the status of our squadron?” A voice echoed off the desert wastes as a large mechanical figure was slowly hovering forward alone. It’s body looking a bit worn and dirty no doubt from a combination of the sand and fights.

However the machine would look around as no one responded to it. And of course it would see nothing but sand and dunes. “I did not give the order to behind stealth operations. Always acting on their own! It would be nice if you guys...Oh right...I don’t have a squadron anymore...” It would nod to itself as it continued to advance forward eventually coming across what appeared to be a massive wrecked ship, and signs of civilization inside said ship.

Ah...Finally signs of civilization. His body was getting worn down, it would be nice to have some time to fix himself up. Who knows what sort of damage he took unfixed for...How long has he been here again?...Feh...Must be a glitch in his memory, it should fix itself if he just took the time to remember but for now he had his next destination. The city.

Scrapyard City


Inside the lower levels of the city, due to its immense size even this large machine can easily hover around the city with plenty of room to move around. Such a sight was of course sorta normal these days, some scavengers looked up at the machine and simply returned to scavenging. Others glanced at at the weapon they had and quickly decided against trying to attack the armored machine for parts. The machine simply began to hover in place to do a self diagnose to find out it’s own current status.

Minor external damage...Paint and body color fading...Recommended to find metal and paint...As such it began to simply scan around the hundreds upon thousands of piles for much needed components.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Lynn Harper Character Portrait: Captain Invictus

0.00 INK

It had taken the better part of several days since her last stop, but Lynn finally approached the outskirts of Scrapyard City. The rusted hulk of the starship that housed it was visible from miles away. A conspicuous landmark that was both defensible and easy for traders to find. Just the right ingredients for creating one of the larger communities in the region. And with a population that sizeable, Lynn was hoping that she would find at least one person who could help with her particular... problem. Or at least someone who could point her in the right direction.

Pausing only to adjust the weight of her pack, she ventured forth into the settlement proper. A short chat with the guards on duty was enough to convince them she wasn't here to start any trouble, and so they let her pass.

Lynn cautiously made her way through an area that appeared to serve as a bazaar of sorts, taking in the sights and sounds of the so-called city as she kept an eye out for a machine shop. Scrapyard City wasn't much for looks, but then again there were very few places that were. Among the stalls that were set up, there were junk dealers aplenty, but nobody who dealt with devices of a more... elaborate nature. Perhaps in places other than the city's lower levels, she might have more luck...

...But then, a battle-scarred automaton drifted in, as casually as it could manage. A very large automaton. There were few present who had a mind to get in this machine's way, and those that did very quickly thought better of it. There was even a sigh of relief from one or two individuals when it became apparent that the automaton was simply doing nothing more than floating in place. For the time being, at least.

Lynn watched the war machine for a while, trying to work out what it was doing here and why. Perhaps its memory core held information that would be useful to her? Curiosity gripped her as her mind went wild with the possibilities. She took a step forward, readying her datapad.

One of the nearby scavengers took notice, urging her, “Hey, don't go poking that thing! Who knows what it'll do?!” He kept his voice down as if the automaton would react to sound alone.

“Then I'll make sure to be careful,” came Lynn's calm reply. The man did not look fully convinced, but he made no further attempt to stop her either. Instead, he chose to put some distance between himself and her in case things went south.

With the automaton being so large, and no gantries available to physically reach its systems, it seemed that an attempt at wireless access was the only option. Assuming she could make a connection, Lynn's plan was to first find out what this automaton was currently doing and how likely it would start shooting up the place if she happened to try any serious meddling...

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Lynn Harper Character Portrait: Captain Invictus

0.00 INK

#, as written by Specmarine
Rusted scrap...Regular scrap...Girders...Rusted Girders...Well this was not quite in the level of quality compared to the quartermaster and engineering bays back home...If they even existed anymore, they were probably the same quality here come to think of it...How unfortunate, and trying to forge this scrap to fix his armor was going to be a process without any engineering bay to refit it...Wait...There’s no paint...Of course, why would there be paint in piles of scrap? It’s not scrap it’s a combination of chemicals to make colors. It was also liquid and not made of metal.

Of course the wireless access would take a small bit to get through, but eventually the woman tapping into the machine would actually get through. Although if she has dabbled with machines before she would not even one stark difference compared to automated machines. This machine seemed to be running a different program, not artificial intelligence...It seemed humanlike. But she could hear the machines thoughts.

"I think I can find enough of the right parts to fix some minor holes in my armor...I can’t find any paint as much as it pains me I I’ll have to keep the weathered look for a little while longer. I’ll have to manually shape and adjust the scrap myself...Wait a second...If I do fix my armor the color is going to stand out! Darn! It’s like shouting to the enemy that I have weak points in my armor so they can just shoot that...New priority...Find paint...” Was what she could tell. For a massive machine, it certainly was peculiar about the small things. But otherwise no directive telling it to destroy everything in sight.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Lynn Harper Character Portrait: Captain Invictus

0.00 INK

It took Lynn a minute or so to bypass whatever countermeasures the machine had to deter unauthorised user access. Either it wasn't designed to be specifically protected against this kind of intrusion, or it was and those systems had since degraded over the centuries. Regardless, she was in. And very intrigued at what she found so far.

Perhaps it was due to the sheer size of the automaton, but its core programming was much more sophisticated than what she normally came across. She had heard of engrams containing human neural patterns, but functioning specimens were so few and far between. This must have been a particularly significant war machine, she thought, to warrant such complex software.

A little further digging revealed that Lynn was able to access what served as the machine's “surface thoughts”, for lack of a better word. Quite an active little subroutine as the automaton loomed over its surroundings. Lynn set it to transmit audio to her datapad, raising an eyebrow as she listened to the chatter. For a war robot that was seemingly stuck in the past, it was surprisingly fussy about its appearance. The technician opened a communication channel with the press of a button. If she could negotiate with it, this thing could be a useful asset.

“At ease. Whoever your enemies were, I'm sure you won't find them here,” she spoke through her datapad. Her face bore a subtle yet confident smile. “If it's repairs you need, I think I might be able to help you. However, I won't be able to do this for free, especially for such an extensive job. What say you?”

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Lynn Harper Character Portrait: Captain Invictus

0.00 INK

#, as written by Specmarine
Eh...A voice?...How strange it was very clear...it was definitely like some sort of audio transition. Like a radio transition that’s right! But how strange...Only his allies could communicate unless someone or something was now accessing his system and therefor able to communicate with him! Thankfully this was not some sort of hacking attempt, he would have been alerted to a much more forceful attack like that. It would appear that someone was offering to repair his armor for a fee. Must have been an engineer nearby patching into his communications link. But payment...Right! He just needed to pull out his wallet and!...Wait...He had no wallet or money...That was a problem.

"It would be unusual to see my foes here anyways since all of our nations are beyond repair. However, I do require the need of engineering work done to my body. I am Captain Invictus, Commander Of the 224’th Wolf Brigade. As long as you are not coming at me with hostile intent then I am indeed able to trust you...Excuse the formalities, old habit never go away. Oh, and if you see a red skull flying around make sure you kick it!...It’s probably bad...But regardless, I have no means of payment for your services. I do not have my wallet on me.” The machine replied back. As it did it would seem like it was stopping its search to communicate with the voice.

It’s been awhile indeed since he used radio transmission! This was indeed a once in a lifetime opportunity no doubt!...Maybe not actually...Yeah, radios were never really amazing...But for now, he had contact with an unknown who seemed friendly enough...Friendly...That’s a foreign word for him...

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Dr. Addler Character Portrait: Aster "Siren" Thrace Character Portrait: Allyson Beckett Character Portrait: Lynn Harper Character Portrait: Captain Invictus

0.00 INK

#, as written by MartinVole
Lumina who was previously paying attention to her superior would now find herself catching sight of a large war machine hovering through the city. "R-Ro-," she muttered, the first utterance she has made in quite some time. The mouse of a man had likely crawled away by now, likely to evade any kind of fee for the... likely mutant nurse's services.

"What was that? No, never mind, I can see it from here. Just ignore it, we don't get involved with... automatons," the doctor said to Lumina, a clear tone of discontent at mention of the machine. It was no mystery that the doctor had little to no regard for mechanical entities, aside from as tools, machinery to him would never replace the delicate subtleties of biology. "Besides, who knows, it may mark you as a threat or something. You wouldn't exactly radiate a human signal, regardless of noble intent. Best to be on the safe side and return immediately."

Lumina sighed, but wouldn't be disobedient, and took off again at a decent pace, keeping watch on the machine for any movement. Her destination was to make her way back to the clinic, the supplies in tow were of importance to maintain the medical machinery, and... other facility operations.

cron