Roleplaying

The grin Verit grinned to himself was dark and feral. He tilted his head back, popping the shred in his mouth with an unshakable nonchalance. Verit was greatly satisfied with the response his words garnered. It was short of a rise, but Verit would definitely get there; after all, there was only so far somebody could go before they snapped. If just once.

Saying nothing more, Verit picked another strip and nibbled at it, watching the mutt and human with an unwavering gaze. He was content with the outcome of his little tease, and had lots to busy his mouth with. If these morons were going to make him suffer, he'd make their lives difficult in turn.

Ah, he loved returning favours. Great fun they were.

Daintily munching on the contents of his goodie bag, Verit passed the remainder of the downtime holding strips of muscle up to the human's sleeping form and trying to guess from which part it would have originally been from. It didn't really matter in the end, though, as it was all edible. Maybe a bit too edible. The care package didn't last too long, and in Verit's opinion the fun ended all too quickly. Humans really needed more pieces. The fifty or so on either side were too easy.

Verit grumbled. The only bad part about fresh meat was the disgusting red crust you ended up having stuck all over when you were done.

The night passed on as quietly as a whisper. Flames slowly died into piles of embers and ashes, untouched by the cold wind that had flown in from the north to whistle through the city streets and skirt over the pit fires. Tin shutters and thin doors were rattled on their hinges drawing many a woman out of bed to stuff up cracks with rags, papers, and threats of sealing foam or cement, neither of which any had on hand or was likely to anytime soon. Cold leaked into beds and tickled the toes and necks of the sleeping until those reaching fingers were pushed away by blankets and the combating body warmth most (though not all) pulsed from their skin and scales, until all there was left for the unwelcome visitor to do was gnaw on furniture and nicknacks.

The camp paths lay untrodden except by the changing of the perimeter guard and, every hour or so, a kind soul with steamy drinks and heated rolls hoping to warm the fingers of the sentinels and draw out a smile or word of thanks, the only reward acceptable in a situation of duty. In addition to them, no other touched the dirt roads besides the wind itself who continued to caper about them in an unruly manner well into the early morning, kicking up dirt and playing with anything loose and light enough to toss around.

Well before the sun's rising the camp began to wake sleepily, softly, as cooks woke to begin breakfast preparations and night watches stumbled wearily off to bed. The air was still bitter, and the fires were eagerly teased back into crackling flames which cried smoke and spat sparks that would warm porridge, cook apples, and fry strips of sizzling meat. As the sky grew lighter the cooks fed urgency to their actions, determined to start everyone's day right with a good slice of contentment, the sort they knew could only be found in a warm breakfast on a cold morning.

That was how the Vaudeville Collective started to stir for the morning.

Lorin had spent the night curled up under a blanket hugging her knees, a position she had adapted from many a night spent sleeping under benches. A pillow was over her head giving her a false sense of security and invisibility. She failed to notice the sunlight in the room with a pillow over her head but still managed to wake up at a typical time. Perhaps it was due to her dependable biological clock, but it was more likely due to the crawling sensation along her arm.

The human mutt made an attempt to go back to sleep not quite realising it was morning yet, however the crawling sensation had worsened to a slight stinging. She pulled out her arm expecting to see a spider or a tick. It was just a beetle crawling along her arm, each one of it's tiny clawed feet digging into her skin assuring it had a firm grasp before inching forward. If it had been crawling on any of the areas where her flesh was decaying it's feet wouldn't feel as painful, however it had decided to trample along a newer patch of skin. She brushed off the creature and stood up.

It was day already? Not long after standing she realised how cold the room was. She had dealt with far lower temperatures before and wouldn't be the one to complain or state the obvious.

After looking around she saw no sign of the healer. Wasn't she suppose to be resting or something? The area still smelled vaguely of the alien-human mutt. She approached the area where Celeste had rested and placed a hand on it's surface. Still warm, she mustn't have gotten too far.

After wandering around she heard the soft clunking and clattering of objects being moved around in the cellar. Deciding that's where the healer must be she made her way down the stairs. The soft padding of her feet was easily overpowered by the sound of shifting items.

The cellar was in total disarray, though sections of it reflected it's once organized setup that had been torn apart by Hurricane Celeste. The only paths that were still visible were the ones she had blazed herself while tearing through the room, yet the boxes remained ungutted (though thoroughly rifled through), and the floor still managed to look like a mess that would scare even the toughest housewife.

Not far from the steps the healer was crouched over a group of cardboard boxes that had been opened and were each in turn becoming disorganized by her frenzied efforts to find whatever it was she had seemed to have lost. Celeste huffed, blowing her hair away from her face only to have it fall back into her eyes. With an irritated flick of her wrist she pushed it away, tangling it further into a jungly mess. Her nose was wrinkled against the dust motes and eyes were lit with fiery determination, though they were still swollen with sleep.  There were thin streaks of grime running through her hair and across her face from her dirt-coated fingers which were busy at that moment rummaging through shiny, metal objects and different strips of cloth that had, at one point or another, kept the items separated and organized.

Next to her there was a small pile of things that she had collected from other areas around the room. There was a small backpack that looked too nice for someone in a shanty town to simply have in their basement but perfect for nearly any possible use, sturdy and well constructed with only the strongest materials at a human's disposal. Overlapping the many buckles and straps of that was a dark colored wrap accompanied by a set of matching gloves and a scarf. Next to this display was a pair of boots. Though they looked strong, had thick laces, and were build with a rubber tread so thick it looked like nothing could ever wear it out, they were easily knocked over when the healer shifted her leg and bumped into them.

This place was a mess. It was the kind of hoard you'd see a pet or child venture into only to never see them again. Lorin found herself somewhat surprised as the floor just above wasn't nearly as cluttered as this.

Hesitantly, she stepped down from the safety of the last step to the muddle below. Even with the cavernous path the healer had made she was required to tread over boxes to get anywhere. She shifted a box out of the way only for a stack of them to tilt in her direction. Quickly she darted out of their way, well more stumbled with how treacherous the path was. The tower somehow managed to remain stationary, but she wasn't going to trust that it would later. She shuffled forward and pushed the pile into a more stable position.

"What are you looking for?" It couldn't be more obvious that she was looking for something important. Or at least she'd hope it was something important, otherwise she had wandered into this fire hazard for nothing.

Celeste jerked in surprise and turned to blink at her guest with bleary eyes. “You've woken – I hope it wasn't on account of me,” - here she turned back to the box - “I'm... ah... looking for an old... I don't understand how I lost it... an old hunting knife...”

Her hands half signed with her words, though they seemed to stumble and pause as they worked through the box. Finally she sat back in temporary defeat, rubbed at her eyes with her fists like a child, and groaned softly. She'd yet to dress in her day clothes, and the sleepwear that adorned her body exposed the majority of her limbs and the new marks that were decorating them. Pretty, shimmery bruises had begun to slowly form on her arms and legs from the night previous, though they looked like they hadn't fully formed and still had a long way to grow and deepen.

“Greg came by earlier – he and Jett thought it might be a good idea to go hunting today. Others offered to watch Illness so I might attend... but I'm not sure if I should go... It's been some time since I've contributed to the food collection, and though I know my duties as healer excuse me from that, I still feel like I'm cheating somehow... but I don't want anyone to take my burdensome patient for the day... ”

Her face was tugged into an upset expression, and she chewed on her tongue nervously. One of her fingers played with the dust clinging to a box, and with each poke her face began to dawn with something akin to realization.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, turning excitedly to face Lorin head on, still down on her knees. “What do you think? Should I go?”

Lorin managed to resist scoffing at her 'I don't understand how I lost it' remark. This place was a cluttered wreck of a cellar and she was looking for something as minute as a knife, a needle in a hopelessly vast haystack. Of course she lost it!

"No," was her instinctive answer, spoken with a brutal honesty which often drove others away. It was better than lying only for Celeste to return injured or worse. If it had been awhile since the healer had collected food it was best she remain within camp fences, even more so with her injuries. Also she was the one so intent on keeping the new ager, if anything were to happen it should be her to suffer. Not someone else.

"Well, maybe," she found herself giving the question careful thought. There was always safety in numbers, the more that accompanied them the less likely they'd be attacked. If she had scavenged before she must be capable of defending herself, or at the least avoiding situations that would require her to do so. "That depends on your injuries."

The healer looked at her arms to inspect the bruises in more detail. She poked a larger one and rubbed at it for a few moments before taking the time to bend each of her limbs one at a time, then working on her ankles and wrists. As she inspected herself she couldn't help but smile at each bruise, admiring her body's functions and the beauty of broken blood vessels.

Her hands moved in time to her soft words. “The stiffness shouldn't set in until tomorrow – I think I'll be quite alright.”

She ducked her head slightly and pulled her shoulders up to her ears, cheeks growing silvery red. Her hands twisted together in a bashful way. Inwardly her heart was swelling up, and a laugh was bubbling up in her chest that she held back. Her eyes darted up to look at Lorin through her tangled hair that had fallen across her eyes.

“It's terribly nice to have a female friend who gives an honest opinion.”

Lorin raised an eyebrow at the sight of Celeste smiling at her bruises. She found herself take an instinctive shuffle away. There was no rational explanation to the healer's action that she could think of. Perhaps she had a concussion?

After examining her she picked up on the signs for tommarrow and set which seemed simple enough. However she hadn't devoted herself to learning this language yet, and was likely to forget the sign for these words later on. She wasn't certain she heard her correctly as her words were spoken softer than a dove, which didn't help as far as learning a new language was concerned. Even if it was of the appendage flailing variety.

Her features noticeably softened upon hearing her last sentence. There were few who would tolerate her honesty and found it too cruel a kindness to accept as concern. "Yes, of course. I wouldn't want anyone to die from the result of a lie." There were also few who wished to accept her terribly pessimistic nature.

"You said you're looking for a hunting knife?" There was no hesitation implying that she believed her previous sentence wasn't out of place.

“Oh!” Celeste exclaimed, hands jumping into an energetic sign. “Right!”
She turned back to the box and dug her way back to the bottom, this time pulling out a few wrapped parcels and placing them to the side. One of them rolled down the mini mountain it had been placed on, the cloth around it falling away as it met with the stone floor revealing a nasty looking dagger. It had two tips that both curved similarly to the side, and the hilt was encrusted with dull, dust smeared gems that looked otherworldly.

“Ah! Here it is!” the healer said, grabbing a dark and stained bundle.

In comparison to the knife that had revealed itself, as if begging for attention and use, this blade was much simpler. It was straight and single tipped, though it had an elongated diamond shape about it. The hilt had hardly any sort of crossguard on either end, though the handle itself seemed to be faintly molded into a shape perfect for gripping. This was set with three black pearls that contrasted oddly to the white metal of the knife, and, in the sparse light that there was, a small design that had been crafted onto the blade was barely visible. Along with it was a black scabbard and a tie.

“I'm sure you have your own ways of hunting, but perhaps you'd like one...?” Celeste suggested, hand gesturing at the box before her. “A stiletto, or a hachiwara, maybe? Though you might like something smaller... or wider... maybe a janbiya... or balisong...”

She began digging through the box again and peeking under the cloths she'd wrapped around her hoard of weapons, looking for the 'right' kind of dagger.

"I'm fine, I have my own," Lorin pulled out her knife from her pocket and began sharpening and shortening her nails. Couldn't have them be too long, else wise they could catch on something and the entire nail might pull loose.

The knife wasn't terribly sharp. It's silver blade was symmetrical and double sided, and it was made of a rather simple earthen metal. The wooden hilt was scuffed and worn from it's accumulated years of use by herself and it's previous owner. It's previous owner being a deceased stranger she happened to find in the streets.

She wouldn't wish for anything fancier. Knives were so frequently lost, and should your attacker get ahold of your knife you would hope it wasn't jagged or cruel. Don't use a weapon you can't withstand yourself, that's what her father taught her.

"Do you have everything you need?" She herself had few belongings, but still managed to get by fine. Sort of, for the most part.

Celeste glanced over her pile of items, touching each one in turn and adding the dagger in as the last thing. She nodded firmly, content with what she had. With a great effort that left her puffing, she yanked the boots onto her feet and then moved in for the scarf which was oddly short and thin, made of foreign materials. It wrapped around her neck twice until the ends met and were buttoned together, and then the matching wrap was thrown around her hair and shoulders to effectively hide its bright color.

“I suppose I ought to go get dressed. I... I'm terribly sorry... I'm not familiar with mixes like you, so I'm unaware of your needs, but Greg said it would be colder today – I have more hunting gear near the bookshelf over there in the plastic bins if you require something warmer. I find my human side makes me much more susceptible to the weather, though I can't speak for you.”

She cleared her throat, and a fluttering hand reached up to brush at her neck. It was already scratchy and dry again. What a way to start out the morning – it would be no good if she lost her voice while out, though at least the boys would be able to understand her signing. She deeply hoped that somehow Lorin would catch on, even if it was only basic words that would make some sense when put together in a more complex sentence.

“Excuse me,” Celeste said, standing and bowing her head politely.

She reached down and took up the backpack, gloves, and dagger, then scurried towards the steps while hopping easily over boxes and skirting around small towers. Up, up, up the steps she padded until the only reminder of her being around was the soft sound of the floor above creaking and the slight scent she'd left behind in her wake.

Lorin examined her arms. There were two patches of newer flesh where skin had recently formed, and there was more decaying flesh to be lost. She was still in the process of losing what she dubbed her 'summer coat', which wasn't much of a concern. The process of losing a layer of flesh and skin took a course of as long as a month. By the time she had completely shedded there would be the majority of her 'winter coat' in place, which shed at a slower rate due to the cold. Her decaying flesh served as an insulator. Not only did it serve as a direct barrier from the cold, but it trapped the heat her living flesh produced.

There was enough decaying flesh to insulate her she decided. She pocketed her knife and made the hike to the stairs, trampling and stumbling over several boxes along the way. Maybe something practically weightless like a cat could make it through here with no problem, but most sentient beings wouldn't be as graceful as Celeste to maneuver through the wreck. Perhaps it was the fact that is was her own mess that allowed her to hop over boxes with such ease. After nearly tripping on her face several times she had made it to the first stair.

She moved much quicker while ascending the stairs. Probably due to the absence of insidious towers and malicious low lying boxes. There was a sense of relief to be on more even and smoother ground as she stepped up from the last stair to the floor above.

“Oh!”

Greg stopped short, staring down at Lorin. He'd rounded the corner to the cellar door expecting nothing but empty hallway – she'd blown that out of the water. His mouth twisted up into that famous grin, and he leaned against the wall with his arms crossed to watch her with sparkling eyes.

“Hey there, my little kötümser,” he greeted, tilting his head towards a shoulder.

He patted at the outside of his thigh next to where a sheathed dagger was firmly strapped. On his other leg it's twin could be seen, though it's hilt seemed slightly different, and the design of both were odd, likely alien as opposed to human.

“Ready to hunt? I'm looking forward to it – only other ghoul I've hunted with was my old man, so this is a treat for me.” He pointed down the steps. “I was about to grab a bag. Celeste has the best gear, you should make sure you take advantage of that.”

Lorin nearly jumped back when she saw a figure other than Celeste, a figure that stood taller than herself. When did Greg get here? She hadn't sensed his arrival. Sure she had been in the cellar but she should've at least heard his footsteps. She wasn't fond of the way he was watching her, and hoped that if she stepped out of his way he'd stop. She took a step to the side so she was no longer blocking his path to the cellar.

"Yes, I'm prepared." She found no interest in Celeste's gear. The fancier or better made equipment you brought, the more devastating losing such an item would be. The best equipment was likely to attract the best thugs or thieves.

She didn't have much, but didn't feel she needed much. All the items she owned could fit in her pockets. There was a knife and credits in her right, and a pillow case in her left. The pillow case was typically used for food of the non-bleeding variety. Fresh kills she would carry if light enough. Otherwise she'd set her kills on cardboard and drag them to camp that way. Her pillow case was an older one, but it had saved her from freezing during a particularly powerful snowstorm. Before she had joined the Collective she had commonly used it as a make shift blanket.

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.