The Bitter End

The Bitter End

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The Bitter End is a post apocalyptic story set in 2024, that follows the lives of the survivors of a deadly spore contagion.

476 readers have visited The Bitter End since finalcatharsis created it.

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

http://www.thelastofus.playstation.com/

Introduction

Image

In the year 2014, a fungal-based, brain-altering pandemic spread across the US and the world, turning people into hideous, violent monsters. In a matter of months, 60% of the world's population fell to the virus along with many of its governments. Panic and hysteria spread. Six months after the outbreak, with the US Government in complete shambles, the Federal Disaster Response Agency (FEDRA) was put in charge. They instated martial law and with control over the US Military turned the democracy into a police state. They established quarantine zones throughout the US and assigned survivors accordingly under the guise of keeping them safe. Although it was safe inside these new city walls, some were unhappy living under the strict rules of the military.

A few years after the establishment of the zones, some of these malcontents gathered the courage to organize and formed the Fireflies, a force that would grow immensely in numbers over time. Their goal was to re instate the branches of the US government and look to for a cure for the Cordyceps Brain Infection (CBI).

Our story begins 10 years after the initial outbreak. People, for the most part, have settled into this new way of living. Some choose the safety, but strict military rule of the zones. Some forge their own path outside the walls scavenging for what they need. Some lie in between. How are you surviving?


Season 1 Teaser
Log 283
Lt. Brian Pierce
Atlanta Military Squad 3

This has been an unusually hot summer. The stench from the city is horrendous. Just my luck I've been assigned to scavenging patrol the last two weeks. Would rather face the infected than gag my way through patrol in the crowded streets.

This heat is making the citizens even more paranoid than usual. With the current water shortage, there is mass dehydration. People are dying... and FEDRA, those bastards, have left it up to us to clear and burn the bodies as quick as we can to prevent further upset. It's only a matter of time before the cits realize what's going on... and when they do, it's not going to be pretty.

Some group calling themselves the Fireflies have been tagging their symbol with the word "Rise" all over the buildings. Higher-ups have notified us to stay vigilant. Apparently, the same started happening in Chicago before the riots. Our Zone is a lot larger... so who knows how devastating that could be for us. Scares the piss out of me.

To put the cherry on top, the FEDRA Infection Prevention details have been rounding up the healthier cits lately for some kind of plague medical testing. They're keeping it hush-hush, but rumor is they're running vaccine series tests. All I know for sure is, no cits have returned from this so-called testing yet. A buddy of mine told me his squad was hauled down there once to clear some infected; people, who he presumed, had turned as a result. He told me he saw people in cages, naked and haggard, looking like the Holocaust victims from the history books he used to study in school before all this...

I refuse to let my mind wander where any of that shit is concerned. Just trying to keep my head down... Maybe I can get transferred to another zone soon. One up north or one out west. I hear Salt Lake is nice this time of year.


Application
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PLEASE read the Rules page BEFORE you fill out an app and create a character sheet. If you do not, it will be very obvious to me. Seriously!

Also, these are the current guidelines for a starter bag for "What are you packing?" Check the Weapons and Supply list page for details.

2 molotovs, 1 medium weapon, 3 light weapons (only 1 firearm), and 10 items. At this point in time, ammo, food, and water will not take up item slots as keeping track would just get monotonous and boring. That being said, your character better not be carrying a fully stocked pantry.

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Forum Tag, if available (rpnation.com/roleplayerguild.com)
Your email
Are you interested in a leadership position within this SL?

Character
Pic/Character Model
Name
Possible Alignment/Class (Remember, this won't TECHNICALLY be a thing until after Season 1, or unless you are joining after Season 1)
Age
Height/Weight
Family
Birthplace
Survival Story (How'd your character get this far?)
What are you packing? (See above note)
Strengths/Weaknesses
Disposition
Sample Post (merely a check for length, grammar, spelling, etc.)


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I know your inclination is to skim through this, but trust me when I say, I will know if you haven't read all of this.

Brief OOC

The Bitter End is a realistic story of survival based on the game The Last of Us. Having played the game is not necessary to be a member of this play. However, if you want more info on it, PM me, finalcatharsis, and I can give you some links.

For right now, our home base is on roleplaygateway.com. We will play in the forum and also use the live doc provided by the site for collaboration.

The story of this SL will be told in seasons. Each season will have a theme for play and major events that I will create. The reason for this is so that our characters can all get together. Afterall, it's a pretty open world. I will provide guidelines for each of these seasons and it's up to you to get your character where they need to be.

On Characters/Seasons: I suggest you start your character off as a blank slate, the reason being this is supposed to be a story of them and how they progress in the world, and will probably end up being about how we all progress together. So we'll all START in the same place, for simplicities sake. This starting location and its inhabitants will strongly define your character. Take your time with development.

There will be four major locations that we will use in the game. As we progress, more may open up.

Understand that this play is a realistic survival story. Imagine yourself in the situation of your character. Everyday is a struggle to get by for most people. The necessities in life are really all that matter. No one has superhuman strength or an umlimited supply of ammo. If you post something totally unrealistic I will give you a chance to correct it. If you can't, it's going down.

This is a MATURE (18+ only, please) SL. That means there will be TONS of violence, gore, cursing, anything you can think of. HOWEVER this does not mean there will be smut, in fact, there will be no sex in this SL at all. What does that mean? Characters CAN form relationships. They can kiss and hug and touch, but if they ever find themselves seeking more, the scene will “fade to black.” If you and your partner want to seek that OUTSIDE of the public forum on your own time, then obviously I can't stop you.


Rules

First and foremost, this is an ADVANCED play. I expect great grammar and English skills and PROOFREADING (of course, no one's perfect, especially not me). Likewise, I expect posts to be a good length (at least 2-3 paragraphs), and to be substantive. I expect CREATIVITY and COLLABORATION. If I don't know you a sample post will be required to become a member (which is most of you, sorry).

PLEASE keep OOC and IC separate. It will really ruin the play if Character A somehow knows about the bomb that Character B is hiding in their bag. This rule really goes without saying.

Right now character limit is 3 to a mun, and you best be able to keep up with them!

Also, no illustrations/art/anime characters for character models. Real people only. It's not that I have anything against it personally, but this RP is not the place for it. I use illustrations in the SL only to give you a visual of the infected or of landscapes after the apocalypse.

In regards to combat/violence/danger, there will be absolutely no character killing, unless you have obtained permission from the mun prior to the encounter. HOWEVER, most likely your character can not avoid an explosive on foot and can not dodge bullets. Be a pal... if in real life your character would 100% die in a given situation then:

a. Have them die. Yeah, it might suck, but this play IS meant to be realistic.You can always make another character.

b. Use your common sense. Have them find cover or run away.

c. Have your character get knocked out or something. People who are passed out usually aren't considered a threat, but realize if you do this, someone might kidnap your character... or worse (but won't be killed).

That being said, DON'T disappear without warning or contacting me. I don't know you, and if you go away for two weeks without giving me a simple message along the lines of “going for 2 weeks, be back,” well I might have no choice but to kill your character off. ESPECIALLY if your character not doing anything stops the story from progressing. If you let me know ahead of time, we can decide something for your character to just have them go away for a little while. If I get to know you over time, know that you're reliable and wouldn't just up and leave with no notice, AND see that you haven't been active elsewhere, I'll have reason to suspect that your disappearance might be due to an emergency, so OF COURSE I will not kill your character (but please contact me when you're safe and/or feeling better!). COMMUNICATION is key here folks!

Please be respectful to other players and their characters. Don't ever force actions.

NPCs (Infected or enemies not being played by muns) can be controlled by whoever in whatever manner they choose. Most likely they'll be controlled by me or others who I know can handle it. I will specify beforehand if this changes.

We'll rely loosely on turn-based logic in group play.

Throughout the story I plan to do "major events" (as mentioned above) that we can all participate in to get everyone together. Please be willing to make a contribution to those!

I, finalcatharsis, have last word in any and all conflicts. If I have an issue with something, I won't hesitate to tell you. We'll find a solution together.... or we won't!

I think that's it for now.

The Story So Far... Write a Post » as written by 3 authors

Characters Present

Character Portrait: [NPC] Bartender Character Portrait: Chase Wooden

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Chase awoke to the smell of smoke and the faint feeling of warmth from a small campfire that was slowly dying out. She was laying on her side, her neck arched in such an awkward way that the top right side of her head rested upon the earth. She lifted it slowly to look around and a pain bounced off of the inner walls, rippling from a nasty bump just above her right brow. Her vision was out of focus, which meant she'd lost her glasses somewhere down the line.. and just what had happened on the line anyway?

Then there was a sound of a snapping twig. The hunter knew that sound well. And then one she hadn't heard in a long time. A snore. A snore that started off quiet but grew and grew. Chase saw him now, a large, dark mound on the opposite side of the waning light from her. Then two more too, both adjacent to either end of his body, all trying to soak up the dying heat, though this deep in the south and this time of year meant it couldn't have been below seventy. Still, there was a chilly breeze.

Her head hurt the more she pushed herself to remember what happened. At the very least, Chase knew she wanted to get away from these men. She had no friends and hadn't seen anyone in days, which meant these had to be the ones responsible for her headache and the dull aches and pains throughout her torso and limbs. She tried to move her arms and legs simultaneously, but something was stopping her. It was rough and wiry, and itchy against her skin. Rope. They'd tied her up, hands behind her back. Her heart rate quickened and soon her breath followed suit.

My gear... where is it? Chase started to wriggle around trying out whatever movement might get her going. She settled on an inchworm-like motion which was made all the more clumsy since she was on her side. Chase remained as silent as she was able, and eventually her cheek came to rest upon something cold as she was behind one of the men closest to her. My knife! She couldn't keep a grin from forming across her lips. She inched up a bit more until it was inline with her hands, then rolled over. Her fingers grasped desperately at the dirt for a few moments before she finally got hold of it and pinched it out of its sheath with her thumb and index. With some effort, Chase finally got the sharp side of the blade on the rope and from there she made tiny sawing motions until the rope was weak enough for her to break. She pulled her wrists apart and then rolled onto her back to massage them. She'd worked up quite a sweat at this point.

Chase looked around to all of the men before sitting up. They were still sound asleep. She cut away the bindings from her ankles then attempted to stand, but her legs were still a tad numb. With her knife gripped tightly in her fist she got on all fours and started crawling around, searching for her back pack. She found it a few feet behind the largest man, her glasses sticking out of the front pocket, and her bow propped up on the tree right beside it.

Once the glasses were safely back on her face, she began searching through the bag to make sure it contained all of its previous contents. It was all there except for one thing – her pistol. She returned the sheath and knife to its resting place on her belt and made a final, successful attempt at standing. Chase wanted to go now, but she couldn't leave without her gun. She looked around and saw that one of them, the smallest, had it tucked into his waistband on his back. She left her things where they were and creeped over to him. She took a deep breath, grabbed the hilt and started to pull it out, centimeter by centimeter. Every time he stirred, she'd pause until she had it out. Another smile. She could finally leave. Chase turned to pick up her things and go, but felt something hard shoved into her chest. She looked down before she looked up and saw that it was the barrel of a shotgun.

“Drop the fucking gun.” The larger one was facing her now. “Boys! Wake up!” She must not have been as quiet as she thought. She slowly put the gun out to the side and began to squat down to place it on the ground, but instead it was grabbed at from behind by the man who she had just released it from moments earlier. Hesitant still to let it go, he began to struggle with her a bit, which caused an accidental fire. The shot echoed through the woods. The man won the struggle, afterward whipping the but of the gun across the back of her head. She winced and dropped to her knees.

“Carson, you fuckin idiot.” The large man spoke again. It seemed he was the leader of the three. “Wasted a round.”

“It wasn't my fault, Dylan! He made me do it!” Carson kicked her between the shoulder blades, which sent her to all fours. “Little piece of shit.”

“God damn it! I told you to be nice! I don't want him roughed up too bad! Now, put the gun in the backpack. You don't deserve to have it.”

“But Dyl!”

“Give it to Zeke!” Carson reluctantly handed it over to the third man who still hadn't spoken yet. Chase had made it back onto her knees, observing the three. Zeke took it back to her backpack, unlatched it and placed it inside. “Now, everyone just chill out and sit the fuck down. Lil fella, get over here! Sit by me.” All three sat where they had been sleeping. Chase watched as they did so, but didn't move. “I said get over here!” Chase was still within his reach. He grabbed her by the upper arm and pulled her over close to sit next to him. She lost her balance and fell into him. The two others stared daggers at her.

“Now...” Dylan pushed her back a bit, but kept her close. “There's no need for ill will here. We've been looking for an extra guy for a while now.” He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her up against him. “We can be friends, right?” He smiled down at her. The other two looked at one another. “I mean, do you really want to keep going on alone, or would you rather have some allies?” Chase rubbed the back of her head where she was pistol whipped. Yet another knot had started to form. “What do you say? We can protect you, you know? You're just so.. little..” Dylan put a hand on her thigh. She looked down at it and heard the others chuckle. He leaned in to whisper in her ear “You don't talk much, do you?” The memories suddenly came flooding back. The day before she'd stopped to rest against a tree, exhausted after escaping an encounter with some infected. She dozed off. She woke up with a hand over her mouth. She'd struggled until something hard was brought down over her head. Everything went black.

“Get.. the fuck... away from me.” They hadn't taken her knife. She went for it, but she wasn't quite quick enough and he was just too close. It was knocked to the ground a few feet away. She dove to retrieve it, but was tackled down by one of the smaller men just when it was within her reach. He straddled her and forced her face into the ground. She writhed beneath him trying to free herself. The larger man picked up the knife then sat down on her back in front of the other. His weight forced the air from her lungs. She felt as if she might suffocate beneath him. Then the smaller one got off and he scooted back. She fought to catch her breath as he turned her over.

“You know, you didn't have to make this so difficult. We were going to protect you after. Let you stay with us. All you had to do was play nice... be still... but you struggled instead. This could have been pleasurable... for both of us. But now it's going to get painful. We have to teach you a lesson.”

“Cut him up Dylan!” Carson handed him her hunting knife.

“Now, now boys. Be patient. This is going to take some time. Now.. where should I begin?” He grabbed the neckline of her shirt and cut it down about an inch until he could trip it several more and expose her chest and shoulders. He ran his fingertips over her flesh and then poked at the spongy area where her collar bone met her shoulder. “How about here?” Fear over took her. She thrashed violently until the others came to hold her arms and legs down. The finger was replaced with the tip of the knife. He pressed it into her skin just enough to draw a few drops of blood, and then deeper, bit by bit, until it was an inch in and then two. She screamed in pain. When he pulled it out it was even more painful. Chase started to have a panic attack. She couldn’t breath. Next, he lifted up her shirt to expose her stomach. “God, you're sexy... just like a woman...” He made a thin slice across her stomach from one side to the other, enough to draw blood, but not near as deep as the one to her shoulder. “I don't think I can hold back any longer...” By now, she was still. He reached back with one hand and placed it between her legs. He got a confused look on his face when he felt something he hadn't expected. “Holy shit... you are a woman. But you shave your head to look like a man? Fuckin' clever, that.” He threw his head back in laughter and the others joined until they were interrupted by a very distinct sound. They all froze.

Clicking and croaking. Several foot steps in the woods around them. Chase sat up when he got off of her. The accidental shot earlier. It must have drawn them. A minute later the infected swarmed the three men. Between the screams and gunfire, Chase scrambled to her bag and bow, grabbed them and took off. Each group had the other distracted. It was luck.

Chase ran until her legs gave out beneath her, which was well past sunrise. She'd suffered a good amount of blood loss, but the adrenaline had kept her going. She had doubled back to the road she'd taken the day before and stopped alongside it to tend to her wounds and take a rest. She took off her shirt, wincing in pain. For now, she only bandaged each before dressing. Two days earlier she'd been at a small township and it was her goal to make it back there for further medical aid, someone who could sew up her shoulder.

When she finally reached the town she stumbled straight back to the watering hole where she'd asked the bartender about her family. She sat in the nearest chair to the door, huffing. He approached her with a look of horror at her blood stained shirt. “I need a doctor. There one around here?”

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Wyatt Janz Character Portrait: William "Bill" Janz Character Portrait: Johny Metcalfe

0.00 INK

Lithia Springs, Georgia

Wyatt woke up with a migraine, empty bottle of bourbon next to his hammock. He had slept out in the open, in the backyard of the 'abandoned' home he and his brother had taken over. The town was about 17 miles outside of Atlanta. The selling point of the town was its natural lithia water springs, hence the name. It was one of the best kept secrets left in the world, as prying eyes did not adventure for the spring too often these days. Wyatt threw the sheet off his body, feeling the cool morning air prickly on his massive chest. Staying in shape was one activity from the old world he still held close.

"Bill, where the fuck is my gun?" Only in his boxer shorts, he dropped to his knees to look around on the ground. He moved too quickly, and the world around him spun. His sawn-off shotgun was the one weapon he always kept close. "Bill!?" The backdoor of the house opened up, his skinny brother stepping outside. Scrambled eggs and bacon wafted through the air toward him. Over the years, scrambled eggs were easily one of his favorite hangover foods.

Bill sauntered over toward him, looking down at him with a tilted smile. "Try looking in your room, you drunk bastard." As the b word came out, Wyatt looked up sharply at his brother. Not a second later his fist was colliding into Bill's stomach, knocking him to his knees. Wyatt got to his feet, but Bill swept his legs out from under him with a quick kick. The two men were a tangled mess of elbows and fists, raising bruises and welts.

Johny stepped outside, enjoying the show as he nibbled at a piece of bacon. "You boys are something else! The longer that fight goes on there, the more bacon for me I suppose." In the frenzy, Bill had ended up on top. He stood up, offering his hand to Wyatt, who accepted. Wyatt then socked him in the stomach again.

"You never know when to quit, Wy." Bill said, smiling despite a bloody lip.

"I know when to quit, once I get the last shot in." The brothers joined Johny in the kitchen, sitting down for some grub. Halfway through the meal, Wyatt muttered a half-hearted thanks to Bill for cooking breakfast. The three of them shot the shit, talking through the town rumors. Lithia Springs had stayed off the radar of hunters and military men alike, but the Fireflies knew about them. An unfortunate fact if Johny had his say.

"I'm thinking of getting away from Lithia for a while boys." The chewing stopped, the Janz brothers waiting for one of Johny's drawn out explanations. "I don't think this little paradise will last. We're too close to the city, a patrol is bound to see it isn't unmanned. Plus, it won't take an idiot to figure out one day that Lithia Springs might actually mean some fucking water." They all had a chuckle at that.

"Come on Johny, out with it." Wyatt spoke through a mouthful of egg.

Johny raised his eyebrows.

"It is the Fireflies fault, right? Isn't everything?" Johny's face reddened.

"Now come on Wy-," Bill cut Johny off.

"Don't you worry about Wyatt's mouth here, he's just trying to rile you up. We all know about your rough deal with the Fireflies." Johny had once been a Firefly. The way he told it, the military busted a firearms deal, and the rest of the FF crew left Johny to rot. He lost his faith in them that day, thinking them no better than the military dogs that were their opposition.

A frantic knock sounded at the door. "Bill! Bill, I need your help."

"Is that Freddy I hear?" Wyatt got out of his chair, and went to the door. Freddy Graham, the self-proclaimed bartender of the town, stood there wringing his hangs. "What is it Fred?"

"I've got an injured traveler, Bill is the best medical person we have around here." Wyatt let the man in, offering him some eggs. Freddy turned them down, focused on the reason he came to work.

Bill was already out of his chair, throwing his cowboy hat on. Johny resumed eating his food after the interruption.

"Everyone watch out, poor old Bill here will be walking with a boner at the fact that someone actually needs his help today." Wyatt couldn't help but grin at his own comment, while Johny coughed into his plate, suppressing laughter. Bill glared back, snatching his medical kit from the kitchen cupboard. Wyatt sat down at Bill's plate, eating the food he was leaving behind.

Before Bill left, the two brothers shared a look. Wyatt could be difficult at times, but he had done all the things that Bill couldn't to keep them alive on the road. For that, he had earned a life-time of slack. After the bartender and the medic left, the other two men ate in a long stretch of silence.

Until Johny spoke up. "Man, you are always an asshole in the morning."

"What can I say, I'm not a morning kind of guy. Afternoons and evenings is when I put my charm on." Wyatt belched, a few speckles of egg shooting out of his mouth onto the table.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Elizabeth Graham

0.00 INK

#, as written by Alligot
She had hardly gotten out of Atlanta alive. It was stupid to have gone there in the first place - it was a huge city, hard to maneuver, and with infected and rather unsavory people around every corner. Gunshots and screams could be heard throughout the day and night.

Then again, Elizabeth could have made it to the CDC if it wasn't for that damn kid. She was so close - if she was correct, only a few miles away. Now, she was fleeing on Interstate twenty, on the exact opposite side she had came in. It was an understatement to call it a miracle that she was alive.




It had started with the crying. It wasn't an adult, but the hysterical sobbing of a child, not far off from where Elizabeth was. She had a rule, don't get involved. Curiosity often kills the cat, but she still investigated anyway. Even a cold, dark survivor like her could not leave a child in the middle of infected Atlanta.

It was a young boy, huddling alone in a parking garage. Ragged clothes, messy hair with blood and dirt caked in. He looked absolutely pitiful, how would anyone not be able to help him? Elizabeth had hardly pulled a small bar of chocolate from her bag to offer when she felt the cold, unforgiving barrel of a gun being pressed against her temple.

Of course, she should have known. A child that loud in the middle of Atlanta would have died. He was being used by a group of bandits as bait. Ten years of utter caution, ten years of watching people die from the sidelines, and she was foiled by the one trick that is literally in every post-apocalyptic book. One man with a gun quickly turned into three men with a gun. Three menacing bandits who were going to rob her, kill her, or worse.

It was indeed a miracle that saved her, as she took the riskiest course of action. She fought back. She jammed her shoulder into the closest bandit's chest, and felt the barrel graze her neck when she heard him pull the trigger. A single click. But nothing else. By all odds, the man's revolver had misfired, giving Elizabeth ample time to carve a deep gash into the man with her switchblade.

After that, she ran, the other two now shooting at her. She hardly even registered the white-hot pain on her back as she ran up the ramp, sprinting down the road as quickly as her stiff ankle could take her. Attracted to the noise, infected flocked towards the garage. Another miracle that saved her life, as she would never be able to outrun them in the first place.




She jumped a few fences, climbed a couple ladders, and within a few hours, she was out of the city. And even further from the CDC. Of course, dwelling on the mistake didn't help. She wasn't going to risk going back through the city for a while, especially not in her condition. Her ankle was sore, she was exhausted from running, and worst of all, she was shot. Luckily for her it was a graze, but it didn't make the excruciating furrow the bullet had caused any less painful. It took forever to bandage it, as well. The bullet had hit her in that one hard-to-reach spot on her back.

Elizabeth was brought out of her reverie by the sound of metal underfoot. She stopped in her tracks, looking down towards a sign. It was horribly rusted and battered, but she could still read what it said.

LITHIA SPRINGS
CITY LIMIT

She threw a look back the road, looking at the endless expanse of asphalt and tar. She had definitely gone far enough. She could try and find a place to settle somewhere in Lithia Springs, find some supplies, and get her bearings in general. If she kept going for much longer, she'd find herself stuck on the highway as daylight dwindles away.

Elizabeth urged her tired feet on, heading towards the city. With luck, she'd be able to find supplies. Or even better, a quarantine zone.

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View All » Add Character » 6 Characters to follow in this universe

Character Portrait: Chase Wooden
Character Portrait: Wyatt Janz
Character Portrait: William "Bill" Janz
Character Portrait: Johny Metcalfe

Newest

Character Portrait: Johny Metcalfe
Johny Metcalfe

The life of the party; if the party is a Guns'N'Ammo enthuasiast getaway.

Character Portrait: William "Bill" Janz
William "Bill" Janz

A caregiver.

Character Portrait: Wyatt Janz
Wyatt Janz

A rough and tumble kind of guy.

Character Portrait: Chase Wooden
Chase Wooden

Cunning hunter. Benevolent soul.

Trending

Character Portrait: William "Bill" Janz
William "Bill" Janz

A caregiver.

Character Portrait: Wyatt Janz
Wyatt Janz

A rough and tumble kind of guy.

Character Portrait: Johny Metcalfe
Johny Metcalfe

The life of the party; if the party is a Guns'N'Ammo enthuasiast getaway.

Character Portrait: Chase Wooden
Chase Wooden

Cunning hunter. Benevolent soul.

Most Followed

Character Portrait: William "Bill" Janz
William "Bill" Janz

A caregiver.

Character Portrait: Wyatt Janz
Wyatt Janz

A rough and tumble kind of guy.

Character Portrait: Chase Wooden
Chase Wooden

Cunning hunter. Benevolent soul.

Character Portrait: Johny Metcalfe
Johny Metcalfe

The life of the party; if the party is a Guns'N'Ammo enthuasiast getaway.


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