by Beiarusia » Thu Jan 28, 2016 6:30 pm
by Wallenburg » Thu Jan 28, 2016 7:57 pm
by Sarejo » Thu Jan 28, 2016 8:29 pm
by Beiarusia » Thu Jan 28, 2016 10:35 pm
Sarejo wrote:“Mercer, you said you wanted to speak to me about Sera?"
by Sarejo » Thu Jan 28, 2016 10:47 pm
Mercer wrote:“I’ll get straight to the point, I’m heading back north. Into Colorado. I need to know what happened to her. To Sera. I need to know if she’s still alive or… If I go alone then I’ll be dead in a week. I know you’ve made a home here, that you have a kid on the way, but I don’t have too many people I can rely on. If Luke was here, maybe. And I know I’m asking a lot, but will you consider it?”
by Deramen » Thu Jan 28, 2016 11:33 pm
by Seventh Oblivion » Fri Jan 29, 2016 10:01 am
by Derelldia » Fri Jan 29, 2016 11:30 am
by Ithalian Empire » Fri Jan 29, 2016 2:07 pm
by New Grestin » Fri Jan 29, 2016 2:53 pm
Act II
Overture
Twenty First Year of the Collapse: The Reign of Emperor Roger, Holiest unto the Lord
As relayed by Jerry Carlsburg, First Historian to the Royal Court
In the earliest years of the Empire, the tribes of Denver were little more than warring factions, vying for what little control they could grasp onto. The Amazons maintained their nests in the deepest reaches of the city, capturing anyone that dared interfere. The Mole-Folk held the sewers, where they conducted vast unknown projects for their own, enigmatic machinations. The Patriots, once the boot of the Remnant scum, were now reduced to little more than roving gangs of scavengers. Bullet Farmers maintained outposts throughout the industrial zones and re-concentration camps, using their expert knowledge and engineering to construct a vast rogue empire of their own. Those outside these tribes were left to scavenge and, naturally, most would succumb to starvation and pestilence.
It was during this age of terror and death that Roger arrived. Penniless and starving, he did his best to eek out an existence in the deathly hole once called Denver. His travels eventually led him to the Bullet Farmers, whom welcomed him into their fold. He rose among them, quickly, until he was left in command of an entire regiment. However, the brutality of the first wastes brought it's fist down upon his burgeoning command. The Summer Swarms, teeming with the latest abominations from the Outlands, descended upon the city en masse. They decimated the city, killing thousands and shattering the semi-stable peace that had come to the land.
Roger, in his wisdom, saw this as an opportunity. He began a campaign across the city. All were brought into the fold, either by force or peace. The Mole-Folk, The Patriots, even the mighty Amazons fell beneath his ever-growing forces. By the Twenty Third Year of the Collapse, Emperor Roger had claimed nearly all the tribes. Yet, even with his power, he knew that consolidation and command were needed. He appointed commanders for each tribe, whom would work under him as proxies. His decisions were theirs.
He set his sights on the construction of a mighty fortress, and he found it in the ruins of Coors. Few of the Old-Worlders knew of it's true nature. Some claimed it to be used for sports, others claimed that music would be played there. Regardless of it's original nature, Coors would prove an excellent base for The Emperor.
As the sun set on the Twenty Fourth Year of the Collapse, he began work on his magnum opus, his legacy to the world.
The Wilderness, Eight Miles from Salida
Outskirts of the Dominion
The Dominion of Denver | Coors
Let’s not dwell on our corpse strewn past. Let’s celebrate our corpse strewn future!
Head Bartender for The Pub | The Para-Verse | Writing Advice from a Pretentious Jerk | I write stuff | Arbitrary Political Numbers- Best Worldbuilding - 2016 (Community Choice)
- Best Horror/Thriller RP for THE ZONE - 2016 (Community Choice)
by The Nameless Wayfarer » Fri Jan 29, 2016 4:40 pm
The Nameless Wayfarer: I write, I drink tea... and that's about it, actually.
by Deramen » Fri Jan 29, 2016 6:41 pm
by Wallenburg » Fri Jan 29, 2016 7:31 pm
Derelldia wrote:"Howdy, m'amigos!" He called out from behind the shelf. He waved his hands out from the shelf before emerging from it himself. "You'll find nothing in this place. Scavenged to the bones, so it's been." He stood there staring at them through his mask. "So what brings you lot to the wonderful town of Salida?"
by Derelldia » Fri Jan 29, 2016 8:27 pm
Wallenburg wrote:Derelldia wrote:"Howdy, m'amigos!" He called out from behind the shelf. He waved his hands out from the shelf before emerging from it himself. "You'll find nothing in this place. Scavenged to the bones, so it's been." He stood there staring at them through his mask. "So what brings you lot to the wonderful town of Salida?"
I flinched and flung my gun into firing position as the voice called out to us from within the store. My heart leaped and pounded in my chest as I scanned the room, my eyes drifting across the empty aisles. I spotted a human figure behind a beat up shelf and pointed my gun at him. "Y-you...this place is empty? Who are you?"
Carlos came up behind me and pushed the barrel of my pistol toward the floor. "My friend, calm down. Don't worry." He looked over at the masked figure and began to walk toward him. "So, you're a regular here or what? We're passing through, trying to help city boy there find his mom and pop, hopefully get in some good reaver kills while we're at it. What are you doing here?"
Carlos's tranquility amazed me. Didn't he know we were in bandit territory? I looked over at Ver and saw that she was almost as calm as he, her shotgun in her hands but pointed to the ground, as if it were a greater threat than a stranger hiding in the dark corner of the supermarket. Trying to appear more relaxed, I looked over my gun and then stuffed it into the back pocket of my pants.
by Landenburg » Fri Jan 29, 2016 9:55 pm
Deramen wrote:Gregory &Martha|Raton, New Mexico
Martha moved quickly and silently. She told Gregory she had to go to the bathroom but it was an excuse. While he was busy talking to the Bartender she moved over to the nearest booth. A man wearing white robes, White ski pants and white boots was the unlucky target. She rushed to the man and plopped her baggy self into the booth. She picked up what she thought was a menu and waved it above her face. She gulped and lowered the smooth paper slightly, just enough for her to see him. The mans hair was rigid and solid. She saw that the man was older by a few years, young but with more experience then she ever had. She blushed ever so slightly. "Hey.... Dude? Whats your name? Mines Martha. Thanks for the help, I uh needed to get away from something. If two guys or a old looking dude come over don't tell them its me okay? Please."
by Deramen » Fri Jan 29, 2016 11:24 pm
Landenburg wrote:Deramen wrote:Gregory &Martha|Raton, New Mexico
Martha moved quickly and silently. She told Gregory she had to go to the bathroom but it was an excuse. While he was busy talking to the Bartender she moved over to the nearest booth. A man wearing white robes, White ski pants and white boots was the unlucky target. She rushed to the man and plopped her baggy self into the booth. She picked up what she thought was a menu and waved it above her face. She gulped and lowered the smooth paper slightly, just enough for her to see him. The mans hair was rigid and solid. She saw that the man was older by a few years, young but with more experience then she ever had. She blushed ever so slightly. "Hey.... Dude? Whats your name? Mines Martha. Thanks for the help, I uh needed to get away from something. If two guys or a old looking dude come over don't tell them its me okay? Please."
Ishmael
Ishmael slowly sipped on his beer, enjoying the little bit of pay he had gotten from a previous caravan run. Pretty soon he'd order some food and then find a bed. Often times when he sat alone, he thought of his family and all those that died around him. Everywhere he went there was death, with little love in the world. It was a cesspool of violence and murder and he was a part of it. The world had become him as much as he had become it. Ishmael killed to survive, that much is true. Yet, he always had to see the faces of those he had killed when he didn't have anything to focus on. However, his brooding was interrupted by a girl who jumped into his booth. She picked up a menu and pretended to look through it, while starting to peek out over the top of it. She blushed, before speaking. "Hey....dude? What's your name?" Mine's Martha. Thanks for the help, I uh, needed to get away from something. If two guys or an old looking dude come over, don't tell them it's me okay? Please.". She seemed to be trying to hide from them, at least from what Ishmael could see.
"Name's Ishmael. You're interrupting my good time. Why don't you go hide at someone else's booth?" he said, scornfully looking at her.
by Ithalian Empire » Sat Jan 30, 2016 9:58 pm
by Wallenburg » Sat Jan 30, 2016 10:47 pm
Derelldia wrote:Locust jerked his head almost horizontally as he stared at the group. "Based on that reaction, looks like I scared ya. That said, flinching gets you offed in the Dominion, or so I hear." Using his hands to bring his head back to a normal looking position, Locust eyed them all. "Passing through with enough gear to make me think you'd be a Vulture. Lucky I didn't off you when I had the chance then. But alas, I stumble onwards in an endless rambling to myself. Having a town burn down and the people slaughtered can do that to a man, that or the isolation for nature knows how long." He rambled on slowly getting into a mumble.
"ANYWAY!" He shouted, "I am here because I set up a small hut down the street. Basically, I live here." A sharp pain jumping through his leg almost causing him to stumble forwards. "Ow. Fuck me, preferably the lass. That was a pain." He muttered to himself, " Anyway, if you're looking for people, it's likely they're dead. Sorry to break it to ya, but I doubt you'd even find their corpses here." He sat down on the floor with his left leg straightened out and his hands rubbing down it. "If you are actually looking for people that is, and you're not just saying that to try and keep me for shooting ya. You don't look like bandits from around here, that or you're a very newly formed group." Slight heavy breathing as he rubbed his leg trying to soothe the pain. Eventually a small sigh of relieve as the pain went away. "And about this place being empty, it's pretty much gone. I know where there is some supplies, but that won't get you much of anywhere."
by True Refuge » Sat Jan 30, 2016 11:47 pm
"One does not need to be surprised then, when 26 years later the outrageous slogan is repeated, which we Marxists burned all bridges with: to “pick up” the banner of the bourgeoisie. - International Communist Party, Dialogue with Stalin.
by Tayner » Sun Jan 31, 2016 1:49 am
Luke LaForge, Glenwood, Colorado
Ashton Malibu, Unmarked backroad, Colorado
Enos Grey, Near Glenwood, Colorado
by The Nameless Wayfarer » Sun Jan 31, 2016 6:15 pm
Wolfgang Magnusson // Walsenburg, Colorado
The Nameless Wayfarer: I write, I drink tea... and that's about it, actually.
by Mesrane » Sun Jan 31, 2016 9:08 pm
by Beiarusia » Sun Jan 31, 2016 11:21 pm
Sarejo wrote:...
by True Refuge » Mon Feb 01, 2016 12:40 am
The Nameless Wayfarer wrote:"I see that you're fresh off the boat, so let me put it you in simple terms - this joint isn't for bounty hunters," said the guard, as she put her hand on a rather menacing piece of firearm; a large pistol, cobbled together of mismatched parts, hung from her leather belt on a holster used by the police in days of old. She tilted his head in the direction of the door, gesturing for them to depart the bar.
Suddenly, a voice familiar to one of their group sounded out from The Den's back room.
"Well, I'll be damned. I haven't seen the likes of you for some time," it said. A figure donning a gas mask and a commander's cap stepped out from the shadows.
"I can practically smell the blood from here, Vagrant."
"One does not need to be surprised then, when 26 years later the outrageous slogan is repeated, which we Marxists burned all bridges with: to “pick up” the banner of the bourgeoisie. - International Communist Party, Dialogue with Stalin.
by New Grestin » Mon Feb 01, 2016 1:31 am
Act II
Chapter 1
All along the Watchtower
Outside Salida, Colorado
Coors, Dominion of Denver
Let’s not dwell on our corpse strewn past. Let’s celebrate our corpse strewn future!
Head Bartender for The Pub | The Para-Verse | Writing Advice from a Pretentious Jerk | I write stuff | Arbitrary Political Numbers- Best Worldbuilding - 2016 (Community Choice)
- Best Horror/Thriller RP for THE ZONE - 2016 (Community Choice)
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