Roleplaying

Lorin turned to look into the camp. Although she had lived in camp for a few months now she found herself struggling, clawing through the mental map she tried to bring forward from within her mind. The camp seemed to try and fit as many people as possible within it's fences. This meant more closely spaced shanties, and that there were numerous ways to get to a location. To this day she found herself getting lost.

"It's number 87." She managed to remember the general direction it was in. "It's somewhere that way I think, towards the center of town," she gestured only slightly to her right. She lived with whatever other people they could pack into the shanty. It wasn't that she was a terrible scavenger, but she was relatively new compared to most in the encampment.

She turned to Greg who was dancing, at least that's what she thought that's what he was doing. He could be summoning some great evil or the rain for all she knew. "I don't think dancing will bring rain any sooner."

Jett gave a soft cough in reply to his friend's behavior, choosing to skip over that comment. Greg's antics were something he'd grown far too used to over the years, and sometimes it took an objective viewer to point out how weird he really was. However, Jett liked to ignore that reality despite what people said. It didn't make a difference, in his opinion, because they were already practically brothers.

“Bad place to be. Celeste's looking for a roommate,” he said, tilting his head toward the gates.

Greg ambled over and replaced his arm around Jett's shoulders, hugging his friend close to his chest. His face was lit up brighter than center city, and Jett couldn't help but feel he was overly happy about this turn out, though he wasn't particularly interested in finding out why. Greg would reveal it in his own good time if he wanted to.

“She could use a roomie, to be honest,” the mutt piped in, grinning at Lorin. “Plus she makes this great bread.”

Oh great was this behavior normal for the mutt? Was this what she was going to be putting up with? The idea of staying with Celeste was even worse. She imagined her tying the new ager inside and reading the beastie books, remembering to tuck him in every night. Seeing how Verit had been harnessed and leashed she doubted the healer could be that foolish. 

Lorin was concerned as to why the mutt had been overly happy about this whole arrangement, though she didn't bother to ask any of them. She almost felt offended, the shanty she stayed in seem well enough. Far superior to any bench she slept under before the camp.

"Maybe," if Celeste didn't hate her for her earlier comments. "As long as he's not included," she suggested to Greg.

Greg stuck his tongue out and winked at Lorin. Jett didn't give her a chance to react really, because before his friend could say anything else he grabbed him by the neck and pushed him down, holding his purple mopped head between his arm and ribcage. An apologetic look was offered to the ghoul-human.

“Just Celeste, no one else. Greg's too busy sharing shift over the new ager with me, right?” Jett said, sending his last word downward.

Greg was struggling and screeching something loudly (“AMCA!”), pushing hard to get loose. It was an odd sight to be sure – Jett looked like there was no effort in this pin, though Greg's movements suggested otherwise. Finally the latter was released and stumbled away, left gasping for air, but not without a grin plastered to his face.

“Speaking of Celeste...” he said, coughing awkwardly as he tried to regain breathing capabilities. “Where'd her and the ghoul get off to?”

After having given himself a sufficient break, Verit rolled onto his back, staring blankly up at the sky before blinking himself back to awareness.

Sitting up, Verit wiped the red from his eyes and quickly found the leash attached to his wrists. Even though his head and ribs felt like they'd been caved in, he sure as hell wasn't going to give up an opportunity- especially now that he knew how utterly disasterous the camp was.

Giving the leads on his wrist a firm yank, Verit attempted to dislodge the mutt's grip. He didn't have the chance to do so earlier, but it couldn't be too late. Struggling onto unsteady legs, Verit attempted to move away. He wouldn't be able to get far, not at all. Probably not even out of the area, but he could hide somew-

His legs giving out underneath him, Verit fell to his knees, almost falling onto his face before he caught himself with a hand. His vision doubled for a moment and he furiously blinked it away, forcing his body to move even though it felt like all of his muscles hand turned into liquid. Gritting his teeth, he dragged himself to his feet again, pushing off with his hands before he lost his balance again and stumbled into a wall, his shoulder smashing into its hard surface with a thud.

Ugh, walking...

Verit could totally see the benefits of levitation. He glared up ahead, cursing how unhelpful his legs were being.

Celeste scrambled up to her feet, slipping once or twice before finding sure footing. The lead was still grasped firmly in her hand, and she wasn't willing to let go of it anytime soon. Her lungs worked double time, pumping her chest up and down like a single, determined piston – overall she looked like she'd been thrown completely askew, and, with the glare that was forming on her face, it made her look like a wild demon bent on getting her own way and crushing all that stepped in her path.

“Stop... picking me... up,” she hissed, stumbling forward to grab up the neck leashes.

She was bothered, deeply bothered, that her patient thought he was capable of walking away. The fact that he was apparently unaware of his own, poor state of health was almost unbelievable to the healer, and it was making her angry. She wanted to yank him back to the infirmary cell and force feed him whatever medicinal remedies she could find until his hair wasn't so white- at this thought she huffed forcefully, watching his escape attempt with a dark gaze.

Unfortunately for Verit, the tug on his neck lead was enough to land him flat on his back. Verit struggled back up, turning on the mutt with a steely glare. He was going to die here, and that was solely because he wasn't going to be able to leave.

If the mutt wasn't going to move itself, Verit would have to do so for it. And it ticked him off. "You're always in the way," Verit growled hoarsely, his voice splintering. It sounded just as painful as it felt. But at least his voice was coming back! Victory!

Verit was probably going to pass out soon. He was burning up again, and his shirt and hair were sticking- probably drenched in his ghoul blood. Verit held the mutt's gaze with contempt, daring it to do something it would regret.

If the human hadn't pinned Greg she felt she would have had to maul the mutt. Even after being pinned he had the same foolish grin on his face. She would rather sleep in her current shanty than stay within the same room as him. Lorin imagined she wasn't going to get along with the mutt regularly, if at all.

As long as the two could pull their own weight while scavenging she would attempt to cooperate with them.

She had been too occupied dragging the child to see where Celeste and the new ager had wandered off to. Last she had seen them they were still seated around the campfire. "I couldn't tell you. The last time I saw them, they were where we left them." There was doubt in her tone, as what she had noticed was how people had begun stampeding. "I doubt they would have travelled too far."

Jett pulled his hat off and ran a hand through his hair, raking it back in agitation. Celeste and the ghoul alone – that was a troublesome prospect. Images of violent outbursts from both of them started popping up in his mind, and his feet moved, rushing him back to the camp. The sound of Greg's familiar footfalls accompanied him, and when he heard his friend catching up he began to run faster, whether out of natural instinct or because of a deep sense of urgency left unrealized by his conscious mind (he was positive Celeste could take care of herself in a scrap with a dying creature, no mater how vicious) no one would really ever know, but he sped on nevertheless.

Most people had returned within fence and many had wandered off to their shacks to count their possessions or re-hide trinkets and treasures. All on border patrol, both on and off duty, were walking the length of the fence reenforcing any place that looked weak and checking the ground for holes. Some had wandered back to the fires and were passing time in conversation and drink, tossing topics around haphazardly though mostly pertaining to down-to-earth subjects and not straying into any fantasy or impossibility, no talk of the stars or anything beyond the planet they were situated on.

Jett had rushed past all of this, dodging people and ducking around shanties until he'd found himself back at Mellie's fire where he stopped for less than a moment to glance around. Not far from there he found them, doctor and patient, in the most peculiar situation.

Celeste, who seemed to have a dark energy leaking from her very pores, was standing over the ghoul, one of her calloused, bare feet pushing down on his chest. Her arm matching to the side of her leg was propped against her knee, and she was leaning over him like a threat sent from the high heavens.

“... gladly watch you suffer until your hair's whiter than snow and your organs fall through your rotting skin, understand?”

He'd only caught the tail end of her words, but something inside of him was very, very grateful that was all he'd heard.

Verit had only been staring boredly up at the mutt the entirety of its monologue, unfazed. He wasn't quite sure when he had ended up on his back again- actually, he probably blanked out for a second before the impact brought him back to the conscious world-, but he wasn't impressed by the mutt's little show of 'heroics' in the least.

"Clear as sewage," he replied in a monotone. It was actually quite entertaining watching the blood from his clothing turn the mutt's skin red. Serves it right for not having footwear.

Scenting a particular human and ghoul-mutt past the smell of his own blood, Verit lifted his head off of the ground slightly to turn and look at the two of them, giving them both a look that clearly meant something along the lines of, Wow, right on the dot.

Brushing the she-mutt's leg off his chest with some effort, Verit came to his feet. It was too late to try and escape now- the three pairs of eyes and hands could definitely catch him. Missed chance, oh well.

He held his cuffed hands out, pretending he wasn't seeing an extra five versions of everything nor feeling like he was trying to stand on water.

The human and mutt sped off faster than Lorin could process what was going on. By the time she attempted to follow Jett and Greg, both were out of her sight. She would have to find a path to the campfire on her own.

Lorin roamed through camp, halting at a collapsing shanty she used as a landmark. Now to take a left or a right? Her foot clawed at the ground while she huffed in frustration. There really needed to be signs posted. It would take ages for her to form a coherent mental map of the camp. Her lungs took in a generous amount of air, trying to scent the human and mutt with little success. She wasn't a blood hound. Stronger scents masked the smell of the two individuals.

She took a left towards the faint scent of food. By the time she had arrived on the scene the new ager was on his feet. Both him and Celeste seemed injured. What happened to them? The human mutt dare not intrude upon the situation as the healer had a threatening air about her.

Jett and Greg stepped forward in unison, both taking up a lead. Celeste moved to grab at the wrist leash, but Jett caught hold of it before she could and shook his head at her. She looked too tired, too angry, too injured to continue for the day, and he wasn't about to let her push herself too far. Her slim hands moved to protest, but he beat her to the punch.

No.

She huffed and jerked her head to the side, glaring downward at the dirt. Her jaw worked roughly, chewing and tumbling words around that she couldn't fully mold into coherent thoughts. It was cute, in Jett's opinion, even though she was most dangerous and prone to outbursts in moments like those.

Take Lorin with you, clean yourself up, settle her in, and sleep, he ordered gently, and then, to the ghoul-human herself, “Don't let her do anything other than wash, bandage, and get in bed.”

He sighed softly, nodded to the two girls, then moved towards the direction of the infirmary-prison, ghoul in tow and Greg at his heels.

Awwh, the two of them were always just so cute.

Verit had watched- or rather, looked in the direction of- the exchange with an unreadable expression on his face. In reality he was far, far too exhausted to find the energy to animate his facial features. Not that he would have had any in mind to make at the moment. ... Eh? Verit's thoughts seemed to loop in on themselves, not helping his already hard-to-understand stream of fractured consciousness.

He remained unsteady on his feet even after he was lead off by the human, barely finding it within him to lift his feet off of the ground. He might as well have sprinted across the entirety of the New Chicago skyline with the way his body was protesting the physical movement. Tired. As. Hell.

Verit inevitably stumbled after an undetermined about of time, already pretty much unable to see past his haze of exhaustion. Somehow managing to catch himself, Verit only took a couple strides before staggering again, this time very nearly falling. He was losing the feeling in his legs, all of the day's fatigue catching up to him. At this point, Verit was pretty much only moving forward once the lead on his wrists was physically pulling him, immediately stopping the moment the pressure relented.

Jett stopped and glanced back at the slow, halting progress of the ghoul. For a moment he considered picking him up... and then Greg, who had connected with the same thought, moved forward, scooping the patient up into his arms and cradling him carefully.

“Don't worry, damsel, no need to be distressed – your prince has arrived,” he said with a cheeky wink.

With an invisible skip to his step Greg glided forward, catching up quickly to his human friend and bearing his burden with no complaint or seemingly any stress on his frame but trudged on like a faithful dog. Jett did admire how willing he was to take on any task whether pleasant or not, and, without realizing it, a bit of resentment pooled into his heart that translated into determination to do and be better. He quickened his stride and took a deep breath, refocusing his mind and mentally preparing himself for the night that was ahead of them.

Verit hadn't even seen the mutt coming. He hadn't been ready for his legs to fly out from beneath him, and the sudden sensation of being moved sent his hazy thoughts for a loop. Verit had initially thrown his arms out for balance, having thought he had slipped on something, but then it registered that he was being lifted and he instinctively tensed, curling in on himself slightly for balance.

Verit made an indignant noise and struggled out of habit, but it lasted for less than a few moments before he begrudgingly resigned, giving up the fight. He lay stiff, however, his body refusing to relax on the contact, and he pointedly refused to meet the mutt's eyes.

"Shut up," he growled venomously. His words came a lot quieter than he would have liked, however, and there had been a lag from when he started to speak and when the sound actually left his throat.

He sounded like a wimp.

Earth is a dangerous place, whether in the hybrid-infested countryside or crumbling, dark cities, but no place is more dangerous or rough than New Chicago. Whether out on the streets or high in the penthouses, no one's truly safe.

The world has become a new place. Some people call it impossible, but others just call it apocalyptic. There's barely a government, and what's left of it is corrupt and dangerous - the people live in factions, gangs, or try to survive on their own, and the only peace between them are through the pacts that have been made. The rich thrive and keep themselves safe, but anyone unfortunate enough to be less than that spends every day hoping to stay alive.

Species:
Ghouls - they're intelligent beings, humanoid in appearance. Their skin rots, and their lifespan is determined by how long their meat stays on their bones.

Zombies - they're dumb and benign unless angered or bothered. They're brainless, so essentially they don't do anything except wander around, bump into things, and (on the occasion) turn into a terrifying killing and flesh-eating monster. These aren't characters, but they can be used by any writer as a tool, the way one would write about a pet or object a character interacts with. If you plan on using a zombie, PM me to clarify what you want to use one for.

Humans - just like us, but now they share their planet with many other species. Many feel cheated out of their home, and most scramble to keep their kind from dying out.

Aliens - there are many, many kinds, and over the years they've adapted to the newness of the world. From tall to small, these creatures come in all shapes, sizes, and origins. (PM me to clarify what kind of alien you would like to be - it has to be your own creation or one that someone else in the roleplay has made up).

Mutts - an alien-human, alien-alien, ghoul-alien offspring.

Hybrids - always different, always weird, hybrids are animal-human-zombie creatures. Whether four legs or two, each species of hybrids are as oddly animal as they are humanoid. Some can talk, most can't, but all have a highly feral nature and are willing to 'defend' themselves quickly through force.

Additional - any species you think should be on this list that isn't. PM me if you have any ideas.

None yet.

THE ROLEPLAY SLOGAN: Falcon hug that piece of beef jerkwad

No godmoding, guys - be cool

Come up with your own, unique charater, but make their personality realistic. No one likes a Mary Sue or an impossible character.

You only get to kill another character, or injure, if you have the writer's permission.

Don't let things that happen in character affect or influence how you treat someone out of character, and please don't use your character as a way to get at another roleplayer. Don't be cheap.

If you want to write a huge post, go for it! Write a huge one! But, before you do so, write up a message in the OOC chat to let everyone else know it might be a bit and to wait to post until you finish.

If you need to write a post that connects directly to a previous post, but you're worried that someone else might post before you can finish writing, say something in the OOC chat and everyone will wait to post until your done, but you only have a 4 hour window to finish up and post.

Always check the OOC before you post, just so you know what's up.

Breaking the rules can end up in being expelled (kicked out, or whatever you want to call it) from the roleplay depending on the offence.

Lastly, if you have any questions, hit me up. If you choose to be an alien, mutt, or hybrid, send me a message giving me more information on your character as well as an example of what your roleplay post might be like so I can get a sense of what kind of writer you are. If I like your moxie, you're in.