I Wish I Wasn't in Dixie: Across the Way (OOC). [Closed]

[Sudbrazil]

"Southern shop owner Judge" sounds right. I'll probably get raided by some crackpot cult thinking I have relics.

That might be truer than you think especially after the apocalyptic invasion dies down. Basically, the military will try their best, and fail both in defending, and launching a counter-attack on the city. So bits and pieces of Oklahoma City will get damaged from artillery, and other causes, but pretty soon various factions will carve out territories, and fight over the city (probably within a week of the military withdrawal).

"Shop owner is raided, kills Shoggoth."
I hope the papers keep running.

[Benuty]

I was going to go for a "Southern Gentleman" character, who somehow ended in the control of his uncle's antiques shop. He would be extremely religious, and basically a mild incarnation of the rural Texan stereotype.

He would be rather different from the characters I have run in the past, but Ned Kelly Dredd is quite exciting and much more eccentric.

I always rock either the deeply introspective or the devil may care loudmouth protags.

I want to attack on titan zip around, or just speed around in general. What tech would I be able to do with that?

Well given the usage of clockwork, and gear like technology in this universe you might be able to get away with zipping around the city skylines to get around areas. Zeppelins and rail lines in the sky are pretty prevelant but are most likely going to be damaged by artillery or the invasion so parts of the skyline you will have to get pretty inventive in getting around in.

[Benuty]

That might be truer than you think especially after the apocalyptic invasion dies down. Basically, the military will try their best, and fail both in defending, and launching a counter-attack on the city. So bits and pieces of Oklahoma City will get damaged from artillery, and other causes, but pretty soon various factions will carve out territories, and fight over the city (probably within a week of the military withdrawal).

"Shop owner is raided, kills Shoggoth."
I hope the papers keep running.

Some of the cities survivors who haven't gone utterly mad or killed themselves might keep the papers running in the areas closest to "normalcy".

[Sudbrazil]

Name: James Atticus Montgomery
Age: 25 years old
Occupation: Dealer in antiques and curious gadgets.
Appearance:

I was tempted to use pics of Mr. House

Montgomery is quite a tall fellow, standing at 1,79 metres and weighing a healthy 71,3 kilogrammes.
Nationality: Columbian
Belongings:
- A Columbian passport
- A wallet containing 500 dollars
- A set of keys to his house, his antique shop and locks therein
- A King James version copy of the Holy Bible
- A pair of binoculars
- A pack of 50 matches
- A wooden pipe and tobacco
- A Webley Mk VI revolver accepting moon clips.

Strengths, and Skills: Montgomery is quite skilled at shooting, having hunted many times in Texas, and even put down a few feral ghouls. He has also learned to blend into certain environments or do things discretely and without much noise.
Weaknesses: James is rather stubborn when he first encounters people. He is generally unwilling to listen to opinions that clash with his beliefs, unless proven wrong the hard way. He may agree with an adversary to further his goals or maintain a civil appearance, but deep inside he will still believe in his ways. James is also xenophobic in a new way. Instead of distrusting foreigners, he doubts and dislikes the many occult entities that are taking the spotlight, making peaceful interaction difficult or outright impossible in some cases.

Personality: Atticus is calm and collected, and holds many paradoxical beliefs. As a consequence, he finds ways to link the several happenings to his religion or political opinions, and explain them in a somewhat scientific or orthodox manner despite the immediate collapse of civilization and the rise of occult powers. The man is known to be pragmtic and even brutal or blunt in certain situations, while a devout and moral man in others. In his worldview, it all makes sense. James is also in constant pursuit of knowledge, having gained the reputation of a quite erudite and enthusiastic young fellow who likes to sit on his porch with mint tea and a good pipe.
Likes: James is quite interested by the sciences, of which he has basic understanding. From chemistry to mechanics and biology, he is fascinated by the advances in most fields. He also enjoys a healthy and hearty debate, especially in matters of theology and politics. Despite this, Montgomery is willing to befriend people with somewhat different religious beliefs that hold similar views in politics or vice versa: he claims that men must ally to survive in these dark times.
Dislikes: Montgomery has a deep hatred for most cults and sects gaining prominence in the world. He sees them as heretics or borderline satanists, who seek to defile all of Creation or meddle with powers beyond their understanding. He also dislikes ghouls, having dealt with them repeatedly during his time in Texas.
Goals: Currently, Montgomery claims that "boy, I'm gon' keep this here store intact, find myself a woman or move back to Texas."
Fears: Montgomery is terrified by the slow, creeping death of the World. He knows that the end times are coming, and doubt now floods his once unshakeable beliefs. Nevertheless, he tries clenching them tightly and marches on. He fears being transformed himself into one of the abominations that roam the Earth.


Biography:

Born in a rural section of Texas, James A. Montgomery was the second son of a reasonably well-off farm owner. There, he lived a tranquil life in a closed community. His father, who thought that the future of industry was in automatisation, not slavery, often came back from town with a few mechanical gadgets and tools, or scientific magazines and encyclopaedias about the latest in physics, the new chocolate factory in Austin, or the army's new aeroplane. Playing in the corn fields, he would often hear the rumours of the war in Europe, that never seemed to stop, or the combat with the Soviets. Things were simpler and better in the past, he thought. Then, in 1952 came the day that shaped his youth. The sky turned red for the whole day, and the dead rose again. For one day and night, the sky turned red and the small village entered chaos. Gunfire would be often heard in the streets. This event traumatised Atticus.

A few years later in 1956, his uncle died, leaving behind his shop. Seeing as he wouldn't inherit his father's farm, he decided that it was worth giving it a shot. He arrived and found the town to be rather pleasing. Business was good, and he thought about starting a family. But now that refugees are pouring in and martial law is being imposed, the future is uncertain.

RP EXAMPLE:

French countryside, Haute Savoie, Helvetian Administration Area borders
24/01/2020 0500 hours, local time

Father Louis Olivier took a bulky radio from his bicycle saddle and slung its improvised carrying strap over his shoulder before hiding the aluminium vehicle in the brush. As part of his first foreign deployment, he had been inserted into the Miliciens de Haute Savoie's 3rd platoon by the Helvetian government to enforce border security, inspect the situation and provide services to the local armed forces. Expecting a quiet stay at a pleasant, bucolic village protected by a dishevelled peasant militia, he had instead thrown himself into a series of seek and destroy missions with camo-clad policemen and well-armed locals, crossing over borders and rivers on bicycles to murder gentlemen which in a world similar to that of twenty years ago, would be debating politics with him over a beer. Hurrying to join his colleagues, who had installed themselves temporary in a shallow gully, he meditated more about the operation. To be honest, it was quite stimulating.

“This is Charlemagne section to command section,” he warned in the radio, “we are in position and ready to assault. Requesting further orders. Over.”
“This is command section to Charlemagne,” came the reply, “you may approach the target, the other sections will follow. Fire only if spotted, out”

Peeking over the dry ditch, he set his eyes upon a large farmhouse, and slowly appreciated its surroundings. Switching his weapon's safety off, he lifted himself out and crawled to the nearest hedgerows. A few hundred meters away, he could see pieces of 'landscape' rise from the grass and move forwards, struggling to pick up pace while burdened with heavy rifles and automatic weapons. Then, the first shots went off, and the world turned into a blur of violence...

~

Thump…
Thump...
Thump…
Grasping his bolt-action rifle tightly, Emanuel Leduc, a guerilla of the Action Anarchiste Française crouched next to the door, behind a turned over coffee table. Although not as well-equipped as other cells, who had managed to somehow seize parts of the French weapon reserves, his group at least had a few proper, semi-automatic weapons and bolt action rifles. Gunfire echoed through the rest of the house, accompanied by screams of pain and shouting that came closer every minute. The entrance was kicked once again. Cycling his rifle’s bolt in anticipation, he took aim just in time as the wooden door collapsed under the weight of a Swiss soldier. He pulled the trigger, detonating the chambered cartridge. The full-powered round sped towards its target, and grazed the man’s temples, leaving a small superficial wound that quickly became crimson-red. Damnit. Time slowed to a crawl as he desperately cycled the weapon. The enemy soldier spun around and opened fire with his battle rifle, three 7.62x51mm bullets tearing through the weak wood, shredding through his heart and lungs before lodging themselves into the wall behind. Lying in a pool of his own blood, Leduc felt intense pain, and his vision darkened. Then, light...

Admiring his handiwork, the Helvetian spat out a string of archaic curses, feeling blood run down his face and sharp pain. “Père Olivier, these words are not worthy of a holy man’s mouth!” came a taunting voice from behind. Turning around, he saw one of his comrades step over the broken door. “Hans,” he sighed, “Please concentrate on the task at hand.”

Taking his radio from the pouch, Olivier scanned the room for any more doors, then transmitted his message: ”This is Charlemagne to Command, house is cleared, 2 lightly wounded, one prisoner, over.”
“Copy that Charlemagne,” buzzed the radio, “make an inventory and check the bodies for anything useful, out.”

His eyes slowly slid over the room. Crude propaganda posters lined the wall, and a drawing desk with an unfinished drawing lay in a corner. It was a press, and the men who operated it had played the price for the drawings glued to the walls.

Extract from
Fractured: A Shattered Worls RP. Conducting counter-insurgency ops as the Helvetian Federation.

[Sudbrazil]

"Shop owner is raided, kills Shoggoth."
I hope the papers keep running.

Some of the cities survivors who haven't gone utterly mad or killed themselves might keep the papers running in the areas closest to "normalcy".

Noice. So, I have finished my app.

[Benuty]

Name: Jammes Atticus Montgomery
Age: 25 years old
Occupation: Dealer in antiques and curious gadgets.
Appearance:

(Image)
I was tempted to use pics of Mr. House

Montgomery is quite a tall fellow, standing at 1,79 metres and weighing a healthy 71,3 kilogrammes.
Nationality: Columbian
Belongings:
- A Columbian passport
- A wallet containing 500 dollars
- A set of keys to his house, his antique shop and locks therein
- A King James version copy of the Holy Bible
- A pair of binoculars
- A pack of 50 matches
- A wooden pipe and tobacco
- A Webley Mk VI revolver accepting moon clips.

Strengths, and Skills: Montgomery is quite skilled at shooting, having hunted many times in Texas, and even put down a few feral ghouls. He has also learned to blend into certain environments or do things discretely and without much noise.
Weaknesses: James is rather stubborn when he first encounters people. He is generally unwilling to listen to opinions that clash with his beliefs, unless proven wrong the hard way. He may agree with an adversary to further his goals or maintain a civil appearance, but deep inside he will still believe in his ways. James is also xenophobic in a new way. Instead of distrusting foreigners, he doubts and dislikes the many occult entities that are taking the spotlight, making peaceful interaction difficult or outright impossible in some cases.

Personality: Atticus is calm and collected, and holds many paradoxical beliefs. As a consequence, he finds ways to link the several happenings to his religion or political opinions, and explain them in a somewhat scientific or orthodox manner despite the immediate collapse of civilization and the rise of occult powers. The man is known to be pragmtic and even brutal or blunt in certain situations, while a devout and moral man in others. In his worldview, it all makes sense. James is also in constant pursuit of knowledge, having gained the reputation of a quite erudite and enthusiastic young fellow who likes to sit on his porch with mint tea and a good pipe.
Likes: James is quite interested by the sciences, of which he has basic understanding. From chemistry to mechanics and biology, he is fascinated by the advances in most fields. He also enjoys a healthy and hearty debate, especially in matters of theology and politics. Despite this, Montgomery is willing to befriend people with somewhat different religious beliefs that hold similar views in politics or vice versa: he claims that men must ally to survive in these dark times.
Dislikes: Montgomery has a deep hatred for most cults and sects gaining prominence in the world. He sees them as heretics or borderline satanists, who seek to defile all of Creation or meddle with powers beyond their understanding. He also dislikes ghouls, having dealt with them repeatedly during his time in Texas.
Goals: Currently, Montgomery claims that "boy, I'm gon' keep this here store intact, find myself a woman or move back to Texas."
Fears: Montgomery is terrified by the slow, creeping death of the World. He knows that the end times are coming, and doubt now floods his once unshakeable beliefs. Nevertheless, he tries clenching them tightly and marches on. He fears being transformed himself into one of the abominations that roam the Earth.


Biography:

Born in a rural section of Texas, James A. Montgomery was the second son of a reasonably well-off farm owner. There, he lived a tranquil life in a closed community. His father, who thought that the future of industry was in automatisation, not slavery, often came back from town with a few mechanical gadgets and tools, or scientific magazines and encyclopaedias about the latest in physics, the new chocolate factory in Austin, or the army's new aeroplane. Playing in the corn fields, he would often hear the rumours of the war in Europe, that never seemed to stop, or the combat with the Soviets. Things were simpler and better in the past, he thought. Then, in 1952 came the day that shaped his youth. The sky turned red for the whole day, and the dead rose again. For one day and night, the sky turned red and the small village entered chaos. Gunfire would be often heard in the streets. This event traumatised Atticus.

A few years later in 1956, his uncle died, leaving behind his shop. Seeing as he wouldn't inherit his father's farm, he decided that it was worth giving it a shot. He arrived and found the town to be rather pleasing. Business was good, and he thought about starting a family. But now that refugees are pouring in and martial law is being imposed, the future is uncertain.

RP EXAMPLE:

French countryside, Haute Savoie, Helvetian Administration Area borders
24/01/2020 0500 hours, local time

Father Louis Olivier took a bulky radio from his bicycle saddle and slung its improvised carrying strap over his shoulder before hiding the aluminium vehicle in the brush. As part of his first foreign deployment, he had been inserted into the Miliciens de Haute Savoie's 3rd platoon by the Helvetian government to enforce border security, inspect the situation and provide services to the local armed forces. Expecting a quiet stay at a pleasant, bucolic village protected by a dishevelled peasant militia, he had instead thrown himself into a series of seek and destroy missions with camo-clad policemen and well-armed locals, crossing over borders and rivers on bicycles to murder gentlemen which in a world similar to that of twenty years ago, would be debating politics with him over a beer. Hurrying to join his colleagues, who had installed themselves temporary in a shallow gully, he meditated more about the operation. To be honest, it was quite stimulating.

“This is Charlemagne section to command section,” he warned in the radio, “we are in position and ready to assault. Requesting further orders. Over.”
“This is command section to Charlemagne,” came the reply, “you may approach the target, the other sections will follow. Fire only if spotted, out”

Peeking over the dry ditch, he set his eyes upon a large farmhouse, and slowly appreciated its surroundings. Switching his weapon's safety off, he lifted himself out and crawled to the nearest hedgerows. A few hundred meters away, he could see pieces of 'landscape' rise from the grass and move forwards, struggling to pick up pace while burdened with heavy rifles and automatic weapons. Then, the first shots went off, and the world turned into a blur of violence...

~

Thump…
Thump...
Thump…
Grasping his bolt-action rifle tightly, Emanuel Leduc, a guerilla of the Action Anarchiste Française crouched next to the door, behind a turned over coffee table. Although not as well-equipped as other cells, who had managed to somehow seize parts of the French weapon reserves, his group at least had a few proper, semi-automatic weapons and bolt action rifles. Gunfire echoed through the rest of the house, accompanied by screams of pain and shouting that came closer every minute. The entrance was kicked once again. Cycling his rifle’s bolt in anticipation, he took aim just in time as the wooden door collapsed under the weight of a Swiss soldier. He pulled the trigger, detonating the chambered cartridge. The full-powered round sped towards its target, and grazed the man’s temples, leaving a small superficial wound that quickly became crimson-red. Damnit. Time slowed to a crawl as he desperately cycled the weapon. The enemy soldier spun around and opened fire with his battle rifle, three 7.62x51mm bullets tearing through the weak wood, shredding through his heart and lungs before lodging themselves into the wall behind. Lying in a pool of his own blood, Leduc felt intense pain, and his vision darkened. Then, light...

Admiring his handiwork, the Helvetian spat out a string of archaic curses, feeling blood run down his face and sharp pain. “Père Olivier, these words are not worthy of a holy man’s mouth!” came a taunting voice from behind. Turning around, he saw one of his comrades step over the broken door. “Hans,” he sighed, “Please concentrate on the task at hand.”

Taking his radio from the pouch, Olivier scanned the room for any more doors, then transmitted his message: ”This is Charlemagne to Command, house is cleared, 2 lightly wounded, one prisoner, over.”
“Copy that Charlemagne,” buzzed the radio, “make an inventory and check the bodies for anything useful, out.”

His eyes slowly slid over the room. Crude propaganda posters lined the wall, and a drawing desk with an unfinished drawing lay in a corner. It was a press, and the men who operated it had played the price for the drawings glued to the walls.

Extract from
Fractured: A Shattered Worls RP. Conducting counter-insurgency ops as the Helvetian Federation.

Accepted, and I will update the roster soon.

Outside of my own application, and perhaps a few others I would like to at least have six or seven players minimum for the roleplay before we start the IC.

[Sudbrazil]

Name: Jammes Atticus Montgomery
Snippety snap

Accepted, and I will update the roster soon.

Outside of my own application, and perhaps a few others I would like to at least have six or seven players minimum for the roleplay before we start the IC.

Okay then. I'll do some advertising to get things moving.

[Benuty]

Accepted, and I will update the roster soon.

Outside of my own application, and perhaps a few others I would like to at least have six or seven players minimum for the roleplay before we start the IC.

Okay then. I'll do some advertising to get things moving.

That sounds pretty good.

[Benuty]

Alright the roster is officially updated for our second player.

[Flarbinia]

Alright the roster is officially updated for our second player.

Tag.

[Benuty]

Alright the roster is officially updated for our second player.

Tag.

Nice to see even more interest, and that reminds me that I need to work on my own application as well.

[Flarbinia]

Tag.

Nice to see even more interest, and that reminds me that I need to work on my own application as well.

What kind of character do you have in mind?

[Benuty]

Nice to see even more interest, and that reminds me that I need to work on my own application as well.

What kind of character do you have in mind?

Well, probably the one I tried to use in my last roleplay, but even more bitter, and extremist in his convictions.

[Danceria]

What kind of character do you have in mind?

Well, probably the one I tried to use in my last roleplay, but even more bitter, and extremist in his convictions.

I'll be a Weeabo psuedo-Space Marine, since we have two shopkeepers and not a lot of designated medics or fighters.

[Labstoska]

Well, probably the one I tried to use in my last roleplay, but even more bitter, and extremist in his convictions.

I'll be a Weeabo psuedo-Space Marine, since we have two shopkeepers and not a lot of designated medics or fighters.

Oi, shopkeepers are highly qualified in all fields of combat, how do you think anything is sold in London.

[Benuty]

Well, probably the one I tried to use in my last roleplay, but even more bitter, and extremist in his convictions.

I'll be a Weeabo psuedo-Space Marine, since we have two shopkeepers and not a lot of designated medics or fighters.

That sounds pretty good of an opportunity to bring the character you wanted in the original back albeit older.

[Benuty]

I'll be a Weeabo psuedo-Space Marine, since we have two shopkeepers and not a lot of designated medics or fighters.

Oi, shopkeepers are highly qualified in all fields of combat, how do you think anything is sold in London.

Well you will be doing a lot of fighting if the IC gets off the ground.

[Danceria]

I'll be a Weeabo psuedo-Space Marine, since we have two shopkeepers and not a lot of designated medics or fighters.

Oi, shopkeepers are highly qualified in all fields of combat, how do you think anything is sold in London.

Jej

I'll be a Weeabo psuedo-Space Marine, since we have two shopkeepers and not a lot of designated medics or fighters.

That sounds pretty good of an opportunity to bring the character you wanted in the original back albeit older.

Maybe more of a medic/missionary build, since every shopkeeper has a shotty.

[Flarbinia]

My planned character is going to be either a fencer or a Ronin.

[Biscaria]

After reading over the lore, this seems like a very interesting concept. Thinking about making a diplomat New Englander (and wife) caught up in all this, if that's feasible.

[Danceria]

My planned character is going to be either a fencer or a Ronin.

Fellow Ronin?

[Benuty]

After reading over the lore, this seems like a very interesting concept. Thinking about making a diplomat New Englander (and wife) caught up in all this, if that's feasible.

I would certainly like to see how your apps turn out.

[Benuty]

My planned character is going to be either a fencer or a Ronin.

Sounds pretty good to me.

[Benuty]

My planned character is going to be either a fencer or a Ronin.

Fellow Ronin?

Only time will tell.

[Flarbinia]

My planned character is going to be either a fencer or a Ronin.

Fellow Ronin?

Ronin is option number two.