JohannaK
Heroically Clueless
The one I won't have because I will possibly die in the quest to avenge mommy? 
Core
- Thread starter CivOasis
- Start date
Seon
Not An Evil Liar
Uhhhh, yeah.
But why are we arguing over things that I said that I won't do, come now. It's a perfect fit. You like to build stuff, I like to build stuff, you want to kill things, I want to kill things.
See, match made in heavens.
But why are we arguing over things that I said that I won't do, come now. It's a perfect fit. You like to build stuff, I like to build stuff, you want to kill things, I want to kill things.
See, match made in heavens.
JohannaK
Heroically Clueless
Yeah, well, only you seem to kill things for fun, I kill to avenge... for now. Let it be a casual encounter for now.
JohannaK
Heroically Clueless
As soon as his father dismissed him, Ray picked a book off her mother’s shelf and, after changing clothes and getting filthy, rushed to the shipyard. Nobody was there, the zone was practically sealed off the city and the harbour, but a rusty fence is not much of a safe seal. Ray checked twice and ran to the boat with the log and the saw. Once inside, he took off his dirty clothes and stood there in his underwear. He could somehow stand the horrible heat, but all the dirt stopped him from working comfortably.
Once he felt like getting into the job, he opened the book, entitled “Bows of Medieval England”. He would have preferred a book on more modern ranged armament, but this is all he had and everything he could do. He kept a photo of a modern bow between the first two pages of the book, and he also had a strip of plastic tape measure (metric) in one of his trouser’s pockets. He took it out and began to take measures of himself and of the log, which he marked on the log by hitting it with the saw’s blade. He was basically making the log into a piece proportionate to him.
It was 3 o’clock in the afternoon when he departed for the docks. At 5 he had finished with all his measurements and had cut the expendable parts of the log. In the next hour he carved it into a thin arc in the limbs, of about 1 cm thick. The central part, which he hadn’t carved, was still nearly intact, whereas the general appearance was that of a bow. When he had finished carving the limbs, he cut the central part into a rectangular-shaped trapezoid of about 5 cm wide, as the rest of the bow, and a varying length of 10-15 cm. He wanted to shape it as a modern bow is, so he cut a somehow smooth grip. After making the general shape, he took out a piece of sandpaper he had found under the hull. It was possibly being used by the workers of the shipyards to take out algae and crusts of biological detritus off it.
At a quarter to 7 he had a decurved bow with a modern handle and a trapezoid block. He left it there, and after handling it several times, he didn’t like the grip. Although he had made it as smooth as it could be, something was missing. In his eyes,you could see nothing, not even a reflexion of his surroundings. His focus was so clear that is seemed like if he wasn’t in this world anymore. Suddenly, looking at the white hulls through an open trapdoor while holding the bow with his left hand, he jumped in understanding: he needed to varnish it. So he went out and looked in every ship and hangar, until he found a tin can half full of varnish in the only hangar that didn’t look abandoned for 20 years. It was already 8 o’clock. Within a quarter of an hour, he had varnished the handle and the limbs, and left for home.
He arrived at five to 9 in the evening, and it was already dark. He was half naked and had brought back only the book and his pocket knife, which had been his grandfather’s and which he had used to carve the handle. His uncle slapped him in the face for missing mass, and his father had already eaten his portion of food. Hungry, dirty, and suddenly worried for the carelessness with which he had left, Ray went to bed and tried to have some sleep.
Once he felt like getting into the job, he opened the book, entitled “Bows of Medieval England”. He would have preferred a book on more modern ranged armament, but this is all he had and everything he could do. He kept a photo of a modern bow between the first two pages of the book, and he also had a strip of plastic tape measure (metric) in one of his trouser’s pockets. He took it out and began to take measures of himself and of the log, which he marked on the log by hitting it with the saw’s blade. He was basically making the log into a piece proportionate to him.
It was 3 o’clock in the afternoon when he departed for the docks. At 5 he had finished with all his measurements and had cut the expendable parts of the log. In the next hour he carved it into a thin arc in the limbs, of about 1 cm thick. The central part, which he hadn’t carved, was still nearly intact, whereas the general appearance was that of a bow. When he had finished carving the limbs, he cut the central part into a rectangular-shaped trapezoid of about 5 cm wide, as the rest of the bow, and a varying length of 10-15 cm. He wanted to shape it as a modern bow is, so he cut a somehow smooth grip. After making the general shape, he took out a piece of sandpaper he had found under the hull. It was possibly being used by the workers of the shipyards to take out algae and crusts of biological detritus off it.
At a quarter to 7 he had a decurved bow with a modern handle and a trapezoid block. He left it there, and after handling it several times, he didn’t like the grip. Although he had made it as smooth as it could be, something was missing. In his eyes,you could see nothing, not even a reflexion of his surroundings. His focus was so clear that is seemed like if he wasn’t in this world anymore. Suddenly, looking at the white hulls through an open trapdoor while holding the bow with his left hand, he jumped in understanding: he needed to varnish it. So he went out and looked in every ship and hangar, until he found a tin can half full of varnish in the only hangar that didn’t look abandoned for 20 years. It was already 8 o’clock. Within a quarter of an hour, he had varnished the handle and the limbs, and left for home.
He arrived at five to 9 in the evening, and it was already dark. He was half naked and had brought back only the book and his pocket knife, which had been his grandfather’s and which he had used to carve the handle. His uncle slapped him in the face for missing mass, and his father had already eaten his portion of food. Hungry, dirty, and suddenly worried for the carelessness with which he had left, Ray went to bed and tried to have some sleep.
Mickzter97
The One and Only
This looks cool...will make character as soon as i get to a pc
KaiserElectric
Total Freakin Besties
- Joined
- Dec 2, 2007
- Messages
- 3,461
I kill things for money! We should do brunch!
(Occasionally for fun, sometimes for food, but mostly for money.)
Radio Noer
The Devourer
And I investigate people who kill people (only occasionally I'd imagine).
Answer to the state of the world, and why one cannot leave:
As far as the inhabitants of Core know, they are the last remnants of humanity. They cannot leave not because of some supernatural force, but because there are defenses left over from the early days of the city that kill anyone who tries.
In all honesty, it is *possible* to leave the city, just that no one knows how (or of anyone who has succeeded).
To further this, there are no fantasy elements here. Just so you don't need to worry about mystical powers killing you, in addition to collapsing buildings and angry mobsters
As far as the inhabitants of Core know, they are the last remnants of humanity. They cannot leave not because of some supernatural force, but because there are defenses left over from the early days of the city that kill anyone who tries.
In all honesty, it is *possible* to leave the city, just that no one knows how (or of anyone who has succeeded).
To further this, there are no fantasy elements here. Just so you don't need to worry about mystical powers killing you, in addition to collapsing buildings and angry mobsters
Seon
Not An Evil Liar
Spoiler :
ShahJahanII
Homesick Alien
Name/Gender/Age/Physical Description: Jan Sanislau, Male, 24; Lean, Average height, spiky black hair and dark eyes, wears a goatee.
Background: His grandparents were Belorussian, Ukrainian,and Roma. After his father's drug cartel was dissolved, he struggled to make life better for himself, his wife, and their unborn daughter. However, he is not on good terms with the Russian maffia, and is now hired by corrupt politicians in Core to rig elections by forcing people to vote one way or another, even while rival politicians bribe gangsters to attack people like him. He has a major nicotine addiction and smokes seven packs of cigarettes a day.
Background: His grandparents were Belorussian, Ukrainian,and Roma. After his father's drug cartel was dissolved, he struggled to make life better for himself, his wife, and their unborn daughter. However, he is not on good terms with the Russian maffia, and is now hired by corrupt politicians in Core to rig elections by forcing people to vote one way or another, even while rival politicians bribe gangsters to attack people like him. He has a major nicotine addiction and smokes seven packs of cigarettes a day.
mythmonster2
BEC NOIR! RUN!
Running. As usual. Jumping, too. From rooftop to rooftop. Don't have time to think. Thinking means stalling. Stalling means stopping. Stopping at the edge of a rooftop means falling. Usually to your death.
Approaching the drop point. Look down at the package in your hands. Brown, nondescript. Unmarked. You wear gloves to avoid fingerprints. Can be dangerous cargo.
Take a ladder to the ground. Nobody around. Put the package in an alley, on a specific stone. Turn right. Turn over a box. There's the money you were promised. Turn around. Package is gone. Business as usual.
Vasiliy stuck the money in his pant pocket. Better not to let anyone see that kind of cash around, he thought. His pace slowed, to a more casual stroll. Quick moving only made a person seem more suspicious. He had avoided attention thus far, and he'd like to keep it that way. Whistling an aimless tune, he took off the gloves as he walked and stuck them in his back pocket. His home was not too far from here, and his parents would be expecting his "paycheck". He never really told his parents or his siblings of his profession. Just that it was "work". Nobody asked questions. Nobody got curious.
That's the way he worked, after all.
(This is my first character-based NES, really, so I'd like some feedback to know if this is acceptable or what.)
Approaching the drop point. Look down at the package in your hands. Brown, nondescript. Unmarked. You wear gloves to avoid fingerprints. Can be dangerous cargo.
Take a ladder to the ground. Nobody around. Put the package in an alley, on a specific stone. Turn right. Turn over a box. There's the money you were promised. Turn around. Package is gone. Business as usual.
Vasiliy stuck the money in his pant pocket. Better not to let anyone see that kind of cash around, he thought. His pace slowed, to a more casual stroll. Quick moving only made a person seem more suspicious. He had avoided attention thus far, and he'd like to keep it that way. Whistling an aimless tune, he took off the gloves as he walked and stuck them in his back pocket. His home was not too far from here, and his parents would be expecting his "paycheck". He never really told his parents or his siblings of his profession. Just that it was "work". Nobody asked questions. Nobody got curious.
That's the way he worked, after all.
(This is my first character-based NES, really, so I'd like some feedback to know if this is acceptable or what.)
KaiserElectric
Total Freakin Besties
- Joined
- Dec 2, 2007
- Messages
- 3,461
"We need this guy knocked off," the contact said covertly. "Some punk running with the Columbians. He moves drugs through the old Core daily. Brings in a lot of bank for his bosses. We'd like that little oasis to dry up."
Lorenzo turned to the contact, a bemused smile cracking his face. "You need Red Scare knocked off?"
The contact swore under his breath. He didn't expect Lorenzo to be so informed of the goings on in the Columbian circle. "Yeah..."
"Oh, I'm not sure I can do that..." Lorenzo said innocently. "Red Scare is a paranoid fellow. Surrounds himself with thugs and probably sleeps lightly. I'm sure I can do it, but I don't think I can be compensated enough to bother..."
The contact was told not to offer the full price for the job, but now he had no choice. He had to close the deal. Leaning in closely, he whispered four choice words in his ear.
"What about a gun?"
Lorenzo raised an eyebrow. "I like the way you bargain," he said quietly.
"Nothing too fancy," the contact said. "We don't have a lot of them, but the boss said you were a reliable friend to the family. It's yours when the Red Scare gets knocked off."
Lorenzo quietly considered the offer. Offering a gun was a very nice reward, no doubt about it. He never had the experience of shooting someone before. On the other hand, they were rare as hell, and the contact could easily be lying. Red Scare would be a hard target too. Was it worth it to deal with the guy for a reward that may not even exist?
Might as well go for it, Lorenzo decided. Even if the gun didn't exist, cutting up Red Scare would look nice on his credentials. Not to the Columbians of course, but you can't make friends with everyone.
"Alright," Lorenzo said coolly. "You'll know where to find me."
Lorenzo turned to the contact, a bemused smile cracking his face. "You need Red Scare knocked off?"
The contact swore under his breath. He didn't expect Lorenzo to be so informed of the goings on in the Columbian circle. "Yeah..."
"Oh, I'm not sure I can do that..." Lorenzo said innocently. "Red Scare is a paranoid fellow. Surrounds himself with thugs and probably sleeps lightly. I'm sure I can do it, but I don't think I can be compensated enough to bother..."
The contact was told not to offer the full price for the job, but now he had no choice. He had to close the deal. Leaning in closely, he whispered four choice words in his ear.
"What about a gun?"
Lorenzo raised an eyebrow. "I like the way you bargain," he said quietly.
"Nothing too fancy," the contact said. "We don't have a lot of them, but the boss said you were a reliable friend to the family. It's yours when the Red Scare gets knocked off."
Lorenzo quietly considered the offer. Offering a gun was a very nice reward, no doubt about it. He never had the experience of shooting someone before. On the other hand, they were rare as hell, and the contact could easily be lying. Red Scare would be a hard target too. Was it worth it to deal with the guy for a reward that may not even exist?
Might as well go for it, Lorenzo decided. Even if the gun didn't exist, cutting up Red Scare would look nice on his credentials. Not to the Columbians of course, but you can't make friends with everyone.
"Alright," Lorenzo said coolly. "You'll know where to find me."
Spoiler :
germanicus12
First Citizen of Rome
Sergeant Anderson grunted, his huge arms bulging under the weights, several officers have gathered to watch and stood in awe as more weights were added. Anderson could easily lift the weights that require 4 average officers to lift together, and even then you could see the strain on their faces. As usual a round of betting took hold as to see how far Anderson would go before he breaks a sweat in lifting the weights, many officers got in on the action, suddenly the room was filled with dozens of officers, some fully uniformed, others half naked but all still managing to get money from somewhere and eagerly watching on for the outcome.
As Anderson grunted and breathed with every lift, but as expected for the amount of weights, Anderson never struggled, so officers added another 50 pounds to the total. Anderson prepared and straightened his back, he lifted his head and pushed with his legs, once standing Anderson attempted to bend his arms and lift the weights over his head. He succeeded but he did struggle and sweat beads started to fall, the betting was over and the winners gladly took their winnings and left, thanking Anderson on their way to their destinations, some even gave him a percentage of their winnings. As the officers filed out a women strode in, the officers saluting as she passed.
Severina Gomes, the Chief of Police and Anderson's boss stood in front of Anderson and waited as Anderson finished wiping his face, but without waiting for Anderson to put on his shirt she simply cleared her throat and motioned for Anderson to listen. Anderson had to look down at her as he towered over her by a good foot, but he had his smile, the one he always has when this particular boss comes in to give him his orders for the day.
As Anderson grunted and breathed with every lift, but as expected for the amount of weights, Anderson never struggled, so officers added another 50 pounds to the total. Anderson prepared and straightened his back, he lifted his head and pushed with his legs, once standing Anderson attempted to bend his arms and lift the weights over his head. He succeeded but he did struggle and sweat beads started to fall, the betting was over and the winners gladly took their winnings and left, thanking Anderson on their way to their destinations, some even gave him a percentage of their winnings. As the officers filed out a women strode in, the officers saluting as she passed.
Severina Gomes, the Chief of Police and Anderson's boss stood in front of Anderson and waited as Anderson finished wiping his face, but without waiting for Anderson to put on his shirt she simply cleared her throat and motioned for Anderson to listen. Anderson had to look down at her as he towered over her by a good foot, but he had his smile, the one he always has when this particular boss comes in to give him his orders for the day.
Seon
Not An Evil Liar
"Yup, here you go, sir," Lindsey said, tossing the pistol towards the suited man. "Part of the trigger assembly was cracked, so I just found some replacement parts and fixed it. Simple, really."
The suited man chuckled. "You know, Lindsey, you've done good work for the Family so far, you know that?"
"Uh huh?"
"You sure you don't want Family Protection? You can come and live with us and the Boss and we'll protect you," he said, grinning. He obviously expected an affirmative answer.
"Naaah," Lindsey said. The man raised an eyebrow. "I like it here. It's quiet."
The man stood still before shrugging. "Suit your self. Watch for coppers. They are being bolder every day, those bureaucratic authoritarian bastards. Here's your payment."
He put down a can of peach and a box of cleaning supplies.
"Say, what do you need all these chemicals for anyhow?"
"Oh, you'll know when I do something with it."
"Oh, I'll love to see that."
He turned and left through the open door, which Lindsey swiftly shut behind him.
"Whew," she said, taking off her goggles. "Well that went well."
She turned towards the box of supplies. Damn, still not enough. She sauntered over to her closet, where she kept her suit and hat, along with other weapons of her choice. The sheer amount of knives and other improvised devices here would have made a crime scene analyst faint with joy.
The suit used to be quite nice, you could tell it by the quality of the fabric. Or at least those still left, that was. There were many tears upon the suit that was created when it became caught on something and Lindsey simply ignored it and continued on. She truly did not care for such things. There were many more pockets than usual for a suit, mostly having been sewn on by Lindsey herself.
Having put on her gear, she simply left through the front door. Suited freaks came to her doorstep every other day, why should this be suspiscious? For now, she wasn't even going to do anything. She was on patrol. Looking and listening for interesting things going on in the wind.
She climbed up an abandoned building and sat within her favorite hidden perch. View was great here, and with a binocular, you could see pretty much everything.
Mafiosi runners were her favorite prey, you see, and they could so easily be seen if they chose to run on the rooftops to save time. They always carried such nice things and all it took was a well-aimed stone throw to kill them.
But more fun thing to do was to simply, well, watch them, she gazed out of a binocular. Ah, there was one. Hello there. They had such arcane customs. Couldn't they just give the package to someone else? Why leave the money inside a wastebasket? It was just asking for an enterprising soul like herself to take them all.
Not that she really considered herself an entrepreneur. She didn't really care about the money at all. But for now, she turned her attention elsewhere. That boy was too far away. Too much of a bother. Perhaps she'll follow him around later. Introduce herself to his family or something.
The suited man chuckled. "You know, Lindsey, you've done good work for the Family so far, you know that?"
"Uh huh?"
"You sure you don't want Family Protection? You can come and live with us and the Boss and we'll protect you," he said, grinning. He obviously expected an affirmative answer.
"Naaah," Lindsey said. The man raised an eyebrow. "I like it here. It's quiet."
The man stood still before shrugging. "Suit your self. Watch for coppers. They are being bolder every day, those bureaucratic authoritarian bastards. Here's your payment."
He put down a can of peach and a box of cleaning supplies.
"Say, what do you need all these chemicals for anyhow?"
"Oh, you'll know when I do something with it."
"Oh, I'll love to see that."
He turned and left through the open door, which Lindsey swiftly shut behind him.
"Whew," she said, taking off her goggles. "Well that went well."
She turned towards the box of supplies. Damn, still not enough. She sauntered over to her closet, where she kept her suit and hat, along with other weapons of her choice. The sheer amount of knives and other improvised devices here would have made a crime scene analyst faint with joy.
The suit used to be quite nice, you could tell it by the quality of the fabric. Or at least those still left, that was. There were many tears upon the suit that was created when it became caught on something and Lindsey simply ignored it and continued on. She truly did not care for such things. There were many more pockets than usual for a suit, mostly having been sewn on by Lindsey herself.
Having put on her gear, she simply left through the front door. Suited freaks came to her doorstep every other day, why should this be suspiscious? For now, she wasn't even going to do anything. She was on patrol. Looking and listening for interesting things going on in the wind.
She climbed up an abandoned building and sat within her favorite hidden perch. View was great here, and with a binocular, you could see pretty much everything.
Mafiosi runners were her favorite prey, you see, and they could so easily be seen if they chose to run on the rooftops to save time. They always carried such nice things and all it took was a well-aimed stone throw to kill them.
But more fun thing to do was to simply, well, watch them, she gazed out of a binocular. Ah, there was one. Hello there. They had such arcane customs. Couldn't they just give the package to someone else? Why leave the money inside a wastebasket? It was just asking for an enterprising soul like herself to take them all.
Not that she really considered herself an entrepreneur. She didn't really care about the money at all. But for now, she turned her attention elsewhere. That boy was too far away. Too much of a bother. Perhaps she'll follow him around later. Introduce herself to his family or something.
KaiserElectric
Total Freakin Besties
- Joined
- Dec 2, 2007
- Messages
- 3,461
That's a bit of a wait. Did I give you an order?
Yes, but a few (several, last I checked) players haven't made characters/submitted RP yet. The wait is mostly because I'm going to be busy Thursday, so that's almost certainly out of the question. I can try to do the update tomorrow, but I do have stuff going on, so that's no promise. Friday as an update day is definitely doable.
Terrance888
Discord Reigns
Name: They call me Jose
Description: Scrawny but tall, surprisingly tough but not strong at all. Suntanned face with dark eyes and white hair.
Age: Not quite a teenager yet.
Job: Help take care of other kids.
I... I don't know what happened to my parents.
I remember... smiling faces... loud noises... I was alone.
The Police picked me up and sent me to an "Orphanage"
It was a jungle out there, where the old and strong ruled the weak. Many of the younger ones died while the older ones stole all the food and climbed the walls, and eventually were recruited by the Police or the Mafia, depending on what they find while sneaking out of the orphanage..
Some of the bullies handle themselves like mafioso bosses while others pretend to be policemen, but all steal their food, younger ones keep dying.
I make stuff, I have a friend who appreciate me. I made stuff that helps him keep watch on his food; traps, I guess. Some times a Policeman comes with more food, one of them likes me. Says I have a future. There is no future.
I just make more stuff and try not to starve for too long... Maybe sometimes I feed another, but only sometimes...
Cuz its a Boy eat Baby world in here.
Description: Scrawny but tall, surprisingly tough but not strong at all. Suntanned face with dark eyes and white hair.
Age: Not quite a teenager yet.
Job: Help take care of other kids.
I... I don't know what happened to my parents.
I remember... smiling faces... loud noises... I was alone.
The Police picked me up and sent me to an "Orphanage"
It was a jungle out there, where the old and strong ruled the weak. Many of the younger ones died while the older ones stole all the food and climbed the walls, and eventually were recruited by the Police or the Mafia, depending on what they find while sneaking out of the orphanage..
Some of the bullies handle themselves like mafioso bosses while others pretend to be policemen, but all steal their food, younger ones keep dying.
I make stuff, I have a friend who appreciate me. I made stuff that helps him keep watch on his food; traps, I guess. Some times a Policeman comes with more food, one of them likes me. Says I have a future. There is no future.
I just make more stuff and try not to starve for too long... Maybe sometimes I feed another, but only sometimes...
Cuz its a Boy eat Baby world in here.
