[OOC] Infectious: Zone B Archives

[SilentWriter83]

I N F E C T E D

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^{M A R C H 2 0 2 1}

_{T H E P A S T}

Nobody knew how it happened or where it even started, but that’s how the stories always goes, isn’t it? Yeah, that’s what everyone thought, too. It was just so fucking stereotypical like a cliché Hollywood zombie drama. Hell, some people even thought this was the equivalent of the Orson Welles’ 1938 War of the World’s Broadcast. No one wanted to believe it was happening. Except, the only reason the broadcasting stopped was because there was no one left to keep the transmissions going, and as the television screens went blank and the radio waves fell silent, it was evident this wasn’t one of those stupid hoaxes or misconstrued news stories. This was bloody real. They even refused to call them ‘Zombies.’ Instead, the media labeled them ‘Lurkers’ to prove how fucking real of a shit show this was because just about every Goddamned person seemed to have been given a backstage pass to join the cast.

_{No one was safe.}

Not everyone was affected equally, though. The rich and the governing forces had a much easier time than the rest of society. In fact, it would have been more devastating if everyone had been dealt the same fate. At least, that’s what the government claimed. Maybe that claim was just another one of those propaganda pieces being used for control to calm and herd the masses out of the anarchy after the gruesome bloodbath, but not many people cared if it was. All people wanted was safety, and so that’s what the government gave them.

To say America was doing great before the spread of the Lurkers was an huge overstatement. For years, the government had been forcing its citizens to dig each other’s graves deeper and deeper every year. The rich got richer while the poor got poorer. It was a fucking mess, and there was probably going to be a revolt sooner or later. The economy was crashing from another one of those depressions that was unfortunately more devastating than the 1920’s Great Depression. Unpayable debt and unemployment had increased beyond America’s holding point, and before anyone could do anything about it, the world’s most powerful nation was crumbling into shambles just like the run-down infrastructure the taxes could no longer fix.

It was poor governing, that was for sure. There weren’t enough jobs available to make ends meet anywhere. At the federal level, the government wasn’t making enough money in taxes and neither was the government at the state level. In a desperate attempt to salvage what they could, social services were cut. Welfare, Medicare, and Social Security were slashed to focus on the energy crisis and dwindling resources. The birth rate was hitting an all time high, and people were needing more and more unavailable assistance. It was horrible. There just wasn’t enough of anything for anyone, and the inner city grime was pouring into the suburbs like nobody’s business. The only decent places to live were in the walled off or gated communities that only the few rich people could afford.

People thought it would end there. They didn’t think that things could possibly get any worse. But, things can always get worse. They always got worse, and so they did. It all started in Atlanta (or that’s how the rumor goes), three years after the government took its first big hit with slashing social service programs. No one knew what it was, or how it spread. The media tried to get everyone to believe it was contained and merely just a rare happenstance here and there. They did a pretty damn good job, but the ‘isolated incidents’ were getting worse and worse, until these ‘isolated incidents’ were no longer secluded. They were happening all over the place, and the media had done such a good job covering up the damage that no one believed what was actually happening until it was too late.

There was only a matter of time before someone like Jeff Bezos, the second wealthiest man in America, stepped out of his ‘Billionaire Bunker’ acting as some savior to the total chaos and sanguine anarchy ravishing through the nation. He offered to help with funding the military-run Safety Shelters, communities for those in need, or so the government claimed. However, just like everything else: things weren’t the way they seemed.

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<sub>J A N U A R Y 2 0 2 9

T H E P R E S E N T</sub>

A little less than a decade after the outbreak, and the world is still recovering. Things look different; much different. The Safety Shelters never did look like something that would last a long time, and it was true. They deteriorated quickly, and the epidemic was far worse than anyone could have ever imagined. Even with all the Hollywood fictional warnings, no one saw this much damage happening. The United States had been broken up into eight different zones with several Safety Shelters spread throughout those regions. It wasn’t much by any means. No, it was just all they had, and it was more than starting to show. The Safety Shelters looked more and more like those run down African villages that existed before the ‘Apocalypse’ every day. Rations were getting smaller and served farther apart, and the Lurkers were still out there. It was still dangerous beyond the compounds of the Safety Shelters, and because of this, there were routine procedures called Lurker Drills that people living in the compounds had to perform once a week in case of a Lurker attack.

No one felt safe, anymore, and the people, who were old enough to remember the times before the ‘Apocalypse,’ looked back on those days with remorse for not being thankful for what they had at the time. The government was promising hope every day despite the failing conditions. Each day survived was a day closer to the end of the ‘Apocalypse.’ Unfortunately, survival inside the Safety Shelters, was becoming a luck of the draw.

G A M E P L A Y

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<sub>T H E F U T U R E

SURVIVOR | GREASER | LONER | GOVVY

Which one will you choose to be?</sub>

Survivor - @Briza, @Remipa Awesome
Greaser - @SilentWriter83, @Briza, @Spud, @Catchphrase
Loner - @SilentWriter83, @Remipa Awesome
Govvy - @Briza, @Spud

Zones

Zones are military organized and government controlled areas that hold several Safety Shelters throughout its region. There are a total of eight (8) factions in the remnants of America. Each faction has two to three Safety Shelters. Each Safety Shelter has a fifteen foot concrete wall around the compound. All factions are loosely connected through the means of military personnel and shadow handed government officials who only make their appearances every so often. In this particular game, your character(s) will be located in the faction known as ‘Zone B,’ which consists of Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia, and Florida. Zone B is one of the wealthier of the factions, being near D.C. It’s fairing pretty well considering the circumstances, but starvation isn’t some thing of the past. Imports are getting smaller and rarer, and the Greasers aren’t making things easier as they often times ransack transportation vehicles. The government is currently planning ways to fight the Greasers without wasting too many resources. Of course, the Greasers aren’t the only problems. Criminal activity is rampant inside the Safety Shelters. Survival is the key, and when humans get desperate and pushed to the brink of insanity or death, they’ll choose insanity every time. Although governing varies by Safety Shelters and Zones, the laws being promoted have begun to crack down on the anarchy spreading through the compounds. Punishment for criminal activity is being kicked out and left for dead outside the concrete walls; unless you’re a Greaser, then you’re hung as decoration on the wall as a warning.

Life in the Safety Shelter is poor. Thin walls separate small make shift households. They looked clean and nice once, but the dirt and rust has started tearing them apart. There’s some sort of running water, as cold as it might be. There is a strict one (1) childbirth only per woman law heavily being forced due to failing resources. Abortions are mandatory for women pregnant with their second child.. Rations are handed out a through first-come-first-serve basis. Although, some of the Survivors have managed to start their own small businesses, fixing torn clothes, helping with ailments, education, et cetera, money isn’t a currency worth much except for maybe historical purposes. Survivors pay through necessities such as the aforementioned industries, service, food, and items the seller might find useful. It’s all trade--haggling and bartering. It’s also not unusual for thievery, which is heavily punished despite the deed’s rampant popularity.

The life outside of the compounds is pretty fucking desolate. The military had come into American cities and bombed them into pure shit. The country sides may seem nice, but most of them are patrolled by the government or still infested with Lurkers. That’s not to say there’s a whole lot of crop to go around, but it is something worth noting. Despite the shit storm from the government, Greasers have managed pretty fucking well.

This game shall begin in North Carolina.

Survivor

A person who chose to live inside 'Zone B,' which is one of the military factions encompassing several Safety Shelters.

Survivors are the few citizens who made it past the clearance and security check just in time before the military began showering America’s cities will silver bullets and flashy bombs. Most Survivors are from the upper part of the infamous Top One Percent. They had priority when it came to screenings, but that didn’t mean the lower class was completely shut-out. There’s a hierarchy amongst the Survivors, and unless a Survivor was in good favor with a government official, he might as well have been swept under the rug as the rougher, lower class with more street smarts started getting rights. The government is tightening its reigns on criminal activity, though. As rations get smaller, population control is becoming the go-to option.

Greaser

A person who is part of a gang of individuals who chose not to live in a Safety Shelter under the rule of the government. 'Greaser' is the term used by the people living in the military factions, and therefore, each Greaser Gang has their own name and way of governing themselves.

Greasers are the enemy of the government. At least, that’s what the Survivors are told, and the stories of transportation vehicles getting robbed only adds to the narrative. The people who were tired of ‘Big Brother’ watching them and having the hawk’s eyes shining down on everything they did, the people who became known as the slang term ‘Greasers’ were the ones who collectively refused to join the Safety Shelters instead of letting the remnants of the old world’s government try to save them. If they managed to live through the military war zones then they are now their own governing source of scavengers, looters, and fighters. Greaser Gangs run far, wide, and in-between. Their own powering systems vary by Gang but one thing most of them have in common is they’ve hunkered down in the old military forts that are littered around the south from the Civil War. They aren’t the best, but the Greasers can’t say they haven’t made a life for themselves more comfortable than the prisoners still slaving for ‘Big Brother’ in those damn Safety Shelters, and it’s true that Greasers face the brunt of the Lurkers who roam the streets unabated. They also find stray people and offer to take them in. Greaser allies, rivalries, quarrels, and wars have also been known to take place. When resources are thin, so are the lines between right and wrong.

A common hierarchy for the Greaser Gangs consist of a Leader, a General, a Captain, a Lieutenant, and a Colonel. Some of the Gangs follow less structure and some follow more or different styles of leadership.

There are only a total five (5) Greaser Gangs in the remnants of North Carolina.

Loner

A person who chose to neither live in a Safety Shelter nor join a Greaser Gang and therefore, lives on his own.

Loners are the rare few that toughed it out alone. Some tried it; many died; most didn’t make it. It was hard enough surviving in gangs, which were sometimes low educated on politics and brute force had become the ruler. But damn, it was hellah near impossible to make it as a Loner. Those fucking monsters, the Lurkers, God, they roam--they hunt--they devour. A single person is like a suicide mission. Even though most Greasers have been roughing it since the beginning, the bravest of them don’t dare going out on a run alone. All it takes is one mistake when no one else is around to help. If you think you’re up for the challenge...think again.

Govvy

A person who is part of the ruling authorities or government that oversees the operations of 'Zone B.'

Govvies are the government officials who now have power over the eight (8) factions. Govvies are made up of two different groups from the Pre-Apocalyptic America: the Federal Government and the Billionaire Big Wigs. There are different levels of government: the Federal Level, the Militant Level, and the Faction Level, and yes, Washington D.C. is still up and running--or maybe, crawling. Semantics are semantics. What is important is the government still has it’s nest, no matter how ugly it may look. It’s got its fucking engine grinding.

Each individual Safety Shelter has:

Head - One Person
Council - Five to Ten Persons
Enforcement - Twenty to Forty Persons
Distributors (food, water, medical) - Fifty to Seventy Persons
Citizens - No more than Five Hundred Persons (most Shelters have less due to mortality rates)

B A C K D R O P

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_{N O R T H C A R O L I N A}

It’s fucking bleak out there, like someone mixed all the colors together and left the backdrop with a charcoal smoke and sunless sky. Fuck though, it wasn’t a backdrop. It was reality, and damn, even during the days when the clouds moved just enough to let some sunlight through, it was humid and murky, and the shit frowns on everyone’s faces might as well have drowned out any attempts at lightening up the mood. Sure, there were people with positive outlooks, seeing through the dismal void of hopelessness, but all in all, asphyxiating on dry mouths or malnourishment was seeming like the only option outside of losing a self-induced battle with the open end of a loaded gun barrel. God though, getting a gun was hard in itself. Surprisingly, most people had them, but that was the fucking problem. Crime was increasing on the compounds, and enforcement was limited. There were rumors that some of the West factions had resorted to some sort of Darwinist Cannibalism. There wasn’t much fact or information on the scenario--communication was shit, but the rumors spread like wildfires, anyways.

‘Movies don’t cause psychos, movies make psychos more creative,’ or so the saying goes. That’s exactly how it was. Rumors spread; people got ideas; shit happened; and fear continued being the national anthem. To say everyone was scared was utter bullshit, though. There were the psychos, for one--they weren’t bloody scared. Not that the government didn’t want them to be. There were also the people who knew shit was going to get better. Yeah, things could always get worse, but that didn’t mean things couldn’t get better, too. Sure, crops were low yielding--bugs, disease, drought. The food was scarce, consequently, and so, the mortality rate wasn’t promising--fuck all, survival was more important of an education than history and complex reading. Crime was at it’s all time high, and that’s without even touching the big stuff. It was fucking grim. So grim, a lot of the people who thought this was just a bad storm--a storm that would eventually blow over--were looked at as village idiots. There was a level of cynicism every one had to play in order to be taken seriously. That was life. It wasn’t edgy. It wasn’t negative. It was fucking reality. People either got it; or they didn’t; and most people did.

Cynicism wasn’t just for the Survivors, though. The Greasers and Loners caught it, too. No one was safe. Not everyone was affected equally, though. It was a different type of cynicism, but it was there. Denying the shit storm was stupid, but they, at least, had more free roam. Some Survivors hadn’t left the compounds since they first stepped foot in one, and unbeknownst to the Greasers, the Loners, and the Survivors, the Greasers and Loners were faring better than the Survivors. No one was faring better than the Govvies, though; those fat cats may not be so fat, now, but they got top priority--the best of the best, which wasn’t much, but it was better than whatever the rest were having. Some Survivors questioned; some did not. It was a mixed bag, but one thing was for certain, the Survivors were breaking. The Govvies even had a joke, “Who are the real monsters, now, the Survivors or the Lurkers?” The Survivors were getting desperate to survive; and to think they had been desperate from the very beginning. Cannibalism was actually an option, now. Oh, and Greasers were getting desperate, too, but not like the Survivors. Some Greaser Gangs in Louisiana actually teamed up together (imagine that) and went to war with one of the Safety Shelters. It was bloody fucking awful. The most prized possession thing the Govvies took from the scenario was how ruthless the Survivors fought. Insanity seemed to have its perks. The human psyche never ceased to amaze just as it never ceased to circle back to the same old stupid question --

_{W H O W O U L D Y O U K I L L T O S U R V I V E ?}

Whether a man was a Govvy, a Survivor, a Greaser, or a Loner, he had blood on his hands, one way or another. No one could say he was innocent. Life was fucked up like that, but innocence didn’t matter anymore. Sure, there were some religions still holding onto the loose ends of soul-cleansing, but all-in-all, it was survival and the growing occasional suicide. The younger generations were doing better than the older generations, but that was expected, right? If only the reasons for survival weren’t attributed to the bleak mindset of the younger ones. It was like watching the human race willfully accept their place as rotting shit or monsters with no ethics. It was a terrifying thing to watch, and conforming or turning a blind eye was the best way for the older ones to cope. Suicide, too, but that never really solved anything, right?

Right, that’s why there had to be hope. The Govvy offered hope to the Survivors, and the Greaser Gangs got hope through each other The Loners were a completely different animal, though. No one knew what gave them hope or how they even survived. It wasn’t as much a mystery as much as it was the inability to even get close to one. Trust was hard earned everywhere, and with hostilities rising, it was fucking obvious, things needed to change. This whole situation needed to change. Not only were resources failing, but humanity was failing. Maybe it was time for Earth to be just as uninhabitable as the rest of the planets in the Solar System, but God knew there were some fighters out there--whether they were in the Govvy, the Safety Shelters, a Greaser Gang, or living all by themselves.

It’s easier than it sounds. The Lurkers are still out there. Maybe not as many as before, but danger is danger. Lurkers are not to be underestimated. As the ‘infection’ spread and evolved, the Lurkers became more and more dangerous. Sure, there were less of them, but damn they could be terrifying. Resources are low, and trying to kill a Lurker going berserk isn’t the most efficient way to handle scarcity. Sure, all it takes is a bullet to the head (nothing else really kills the bitches unless the head’s fucked), but making the shot one hundred percent of the time is some fake Hollywood horseshit. This isn’t some computer generated imagery or a premeditated script with one-liner action dialogue. This is real fucking life. Real people dying. Real blood. Real time. Kill or get killed. And yeah, there aren’t any room for mistakes, but fuck all if more aren’t about to be made.

A R E Y O U R E A D Y ?

^{. . .}

[Briza]

W E L C O M E

TO THE SHIT SHOW

Hey everyone and welcome to the official down and dirty IC Thread for Infected: Zone B Archives. @SilentWriter83 will be your GM alongside the lovely @Briza as co-GM. Please, contact us for any personal questions or even a simple chit chat. Below, players will find the game's rules and character sheet format. Do not post your character sheets under the Character Tab until your character has been approved. If a player has any comments, questions, or concerns, do not hesitate to post here.

^{R U L E S}

Rules

1. _{DO NOT GODMODE OR POWERPLAY} No one enjoys indestructible characters that are immune to any and everything thrown at them, nor do they like having their character controlled by another player. Unless it has been discussed between the parties at play, please don’t control each other’s characters if permission has not been given. It’s not nice.

2. _{DO NOT GHOST} @SilentWriter83 is a full-time college student who also works part-time. Both GMs understand life gets hectic, and things happen. Life is consistently crazy like that. So, please, please, please do your best to contact either GM, or the people you are interacting within the group, of any long term absence. A long term absence is classified as a week, leading to the next point. If you are bored or have writer’s block -- simply state your case. If you wish to leave, there’s no harm in announcing your leave. No one will judge you for leaving. However, it is polite to let us know as to not keep us wondering where you are or pausing the game for unnecessary amounts of time while waiting for a reply from you.

3. _{PLEASE POST REGULARLY} No, this does not mean every day, multiple times a day. I do ask to attempt at least one, good quality post per week. We prefer quality over quantity here, but I ask for once a week in order to keep the game moving and fun.

4. _{FOLLOW THE POSTING ORDER} For those of you unfamiliar with a posting order, it is just the order in which posts will be made so no one gets left behind. However, if Players One thru Three are interacting and Player Four and Player Five are interacting independently of Players One thru Three, Players One thru Three follow their order and do not have to wait for Players Four nor Five to post since they are not interacting with those two players (and vice versa). This will be more apparent once the game gets rolling.

5. _{HAVE FUN WITH THIS} At the end of the day, we are all here to have fun. I want this to be a great interactive experience for everyone.

6. _{CONTACT SILENTWRITER83 OR BRIZA} If at any point you cannot partake in the game; a certain subject matter makes you uncomfortable; or you just want to talk -- please, feel free to contact either GM at any point for any reason. We are all friends here; this is a safe space; we all want to have fun. The GMs want to make this as fun for everyone as possible. If you have any suggestions we encourage you to tell us; the more collaboration, the better!

^{C H A R A C T E R S H E E T}

Layout

[b]Appearance:[/b] (Real Life Picture Only)
[b]Name:[/b]
[b]Age:[/b]
[b]Gender:[/b]
[b]Class:[/b] (Survivor, Greaser, Loner, Govvy)
[b]Occupation:[/b]

[b]Personality:[/b]

[b]Background:[/b]

[b]Goal:[/b]
[b]Equipment:[/b]
[b]Weapons:[/b] (One Specialized, Two Secondary)
[b]Skills:[/b] (Medical, Firearms, etc. Limited to Seven, One Expert; Two Advanced; Two Adept, Two Novice)
[b]Family:[/b]
[b]Miscellaneous:[/b]

^{P O S T I N G O R D E R}

Order

To keep things clean and running smoothly, the GMs have decided to implement a posting order as read below:

1. @SilentWriter83
2. @Briza
3. @Spud
4. @Hiro Dark
5. @Remipa Awesome
6. @MenageAUne
7. @Catchphrase

Order is subject to change in regards to players dropping or joining.

[Briza]

@Xyo, @DeltaV, @Huckleberry1911 -- We're ready for take-off.

[Hiro Dark]

Hoping a text Appearance is alright, I am absolutely terrible at finding photos that I feel fit and always feel weird about using a image of a real person besides(besides which, describing her in text terms will help me to describe her with words when writing her anyways). To that end, I also hope it's alright that I moved the appearance just a bit lower for the purposes of this app, underneath the Name-Occupation block.

Victoria

Name: Victoria Lyons
Age: 23
Gender: Female
Class: Loner
Occupation: Mercenary

Appearance: In the old world, Victoria would almost certainly be a beauty:Long light auburn hair with piercing green eyes, pale freckled skin, and a tall and slender frame. That's not the world we're living in anymore, though. While she maintains more than a modicum of vanity, it's not exactly easy these days to keep clean and moisturizing shampoo isn't even useful enough to be considered a luxury, and living in a armored car doesn't leave you with much opportunity to install plumbing for a bath. She her hair is usually dirty on a good day, downright filthy and tangled on a bad one, and while she takes pains to at least keep grime off her face, the same can't be said about the rest of her skin(her hands in particular often have gun oil from cleaning her smg and a few healed burns from smelting down metal for bullets or maintaining her machete and hatchet). She has a couple outfits worth of clothes but practically speaking only ever wears one thing-her self-made "armor" of plastic plates, duct tape, and Kevlar to stop an errant bite all placed over a grey long-sleeved shirt and pair of once-stretchy blue jeans. She only ever really wears anything else(with the exception of jackets during the colder/wetter months, but she can just wear that over the rest) on the odd occasion she takes the risk to clean and repair her usual armor-otherwise, she's even learned to sleep in it.

Personality: Coming off as greedy is one of the nigh-inevitable great hazards of living as a mercenary(that and horrible, painful death, but the greed thing is clearly the more important), and Victoria isn't quite an exception there. She definitely likes the finer things in life, like partly-charged AA batteries and a lukewarm meal, and she isn't one to forgo these when she has the opportunity to make a good bit of money. Of course, if that was all there was to her, she'd live as a marauder and try her hand at robbing people. She does like helping people, and she'll risk her life to help the other survivor groups make it just a bit longer(although, well, nothing's for free). She's one of the very rare sociable Loners out there-going it alone not because of an inherent distrust in other people, but because she just doesn't feel safe sticking in one place for too long.
Well. That's the reason she admits to herself, anyways. But lets all be honest here, if it was just about survival and safety, she could have found a safer marketable skill when she comes across other survivors. Sell her talent as a doctor, or fix electronic doohickeys for some supplies and a place to stay the night. In truth, the truth she doesn't fully accept about herself even, she revels in this new world. In this world of chaos and danger, where the only way to be sure you'll see the next day is by making sure to leave a trail of dead Lurkers in your wake, where you'll never have to waste away your life in a dead-end job like retail or as a pencil-pusher unless you just can't take it living out here. One of the most unnerving things most other survivors(in the broader sense) find out about her is that she almost never seems to be scared or frightened. Not quite manic or anything, she does lapse into pensive or solemn moods thinking about the finer trappings of the old world and the people lost in the collapse, and she isn't suicidally brave or anything. But she can't help but manage a a giddy smile, whether its the thought of running for her life from a veritable horde of Lurkers to saving people's lives. Is it really so wrong that she never wants this nightmare to end?

Background:
In a sane world, Victoria wouldn't have survived.

...Well, yes, in a sane world, the dead wouldn't be eating the living. But lets play along, alright?

...Anyways, in a sane-er world, Victoria wouldn't be one of the survivors of the end of the world. It'd be a mechanic, or another soldier, or a scientist or something that'd have taken her spot on the cosmic list-of-people-who-survive-apocalypses. Y'know, someone with something practical to contribute. Victoria was a fifteen-year-old highschooler with poor grades who played a couple-too-many video games and spent more time gossiping than giving a damn about class. So by all rights, Victoria's story should have come to an end the moment she heard a banging noise from the front of the house and the sound of breaking glass. Even with the news reports, she was almost certain all that was a practical joke, so she figured there was a robber in the house. Naturally, she did what any normal, rational fifteen-year-old girl would do:she got up from her computer, grabbed the nearest blunt object, and hide in the closet. She didn't hear much in the half-hour after that...what she interpreted as labored breathing interspersed with stuff falling over or being thrown about downstairs. She was scared, of course, but did what she could to stay quiet; hopefully whoever was robbing them would lose interest at the meager belongings downstairs.

Then she heard a step on the stairs. A loud step, not even concerned with staying quiet, but strangely...a slow one. The next step hadn't come until a couple seconds later, and the next few were irregular and just as slow, and the labored breathing continued. Once the intruder must have been about halfway up the stairs, though, the worst came to pass:despite her success at remaining quiet so far, her computer made a loud DOCK sound as her instant messenger of choice helpfully told her that she had a message from one of her friends. The next second seemed to stretch before the intruder picked up the pace, racing up the stairs and practically roaring before slamming into her door. The second time it smashed into the door, the wood splintered, Victoria shrieked, and the new sound just invigorated the attacker even more. After the fourth slam, the wood finally gave way entirely, and the assailant finally came into Victoria's view-a large man, bleeding from various wounds-some with glass in them, she noted-and with a twisted, broken ankle. The...creature...wasn't even walking on the foot, instead more dragging the foot along as it unsteadily balanced on a jut of bone that pierced through the flesh like a macabre parody of a peg leg.

The next few seconds went by in a blur, and Victoria's vision went black. The next thing she remembered from her fear-frenzied haze was beating the intruder with the dented, broken, bloody flashlight she'd been holding as he laid on the ground, hearing the snapping of bone as she crushed his ribs and limbs in an adrenaline-fueled fight response, but the damned thing just. Wouldn't. Stop. Moving. She kept away from its already-bloody, slobbering face as she utterly wailed on it, and eventually scored a lucky hit to its cranium just as it got her leg in the grip of its remaining good hand-even that didn't kill it, the skull is a damn tough bone, but the force to its brain dazed it just long enough for her to wrench her leg free and start running. It wasn't until she made it to the door, opened it, and shut it right back that rational thought came back from its lunch break:She saw more of the things roaming outside. She only had a glimpse-not even a full second before she slammed the door-so she didn't know just exactly what was going on, but the sight of a veritable horde of bloody people lurching through the street was enough that she figured they weren't just going on a evening stroll. Now that she'd started thinking...somewhat clearly again, she realized(with luck, for her at least) that everything was very loud outside right now-if not for that, slamming the door might have drawn attention to her, but there was already the sound of crashing cars and splintering wood coming from the broken window in the room next to her entryway. First things first, she hurried to close the curtain there-maybe if they couldn't see anything inside they might not realize the window was already broken. After that, she found an old duffel gym bag her parents had used like once, emptied it out of the clothes and everything already in it, before filling it up with food some basic antiseptic from the bathroom, and found a more practical weapon than the flashlight she'd been using-a baseball bat this time.

With that in hand, she made her way upstairs, heart racing, and took a quick glance into her room. Call her sentimental, but she did have a few things she wanted to take with her, wherever it was she did go. Besides which, having a few changes of clean clothes would always be important-even if whatever this was wasn't a bloodborn infection, there's no telling what else they were carrying, and mundane infection is a serious risk even with fully functional hospitals to fall back on. The creature was still there on the floor, groaning and struggling impotently-the damage she'd already inflicted was more than enough to render its legs useless, although its right arm was fully functional and its left one was only broken at the forearm. The thought occurred that she might be able to skirt around it, but she chased that idea out of her head-better not to risk it, and besides, a bat had a better reach than a flashlight. She knelt down a small distance away from it, raised the bat, and brought it down on the monster's skull once, twice, three times...on, and on, until the corpse stopped even twitching, and a couple more times even then. It wasn't until she finished changing and packing up her things that she realized that by the end of it, she'd had a smile on her face.

It's the weirdest thing...The initial pandemonium stopped just as quickly as it started. Either you got it in your head just what you were dealing with, or enough of a gist in order to find somewhere to hole up and survive, or you found yourself one of the victims of the first wave of the local outbreak. Obviously order and the rule of law wouldn't be restored so quickly...but by the end of the first day even, the bodycount of your local area stabilizes. You don't have deaths numbering in the thousands, the tens of thousands after the first wave, and things quiet down within a week or two as people find relatively safe havens to hole up in until they need to head on out. Victoria took to squatting in various houses, moving quickly onward at the first hint of trouble in those first few months. She did find a Greaser gang to hole up with for just under a year, and make no mistake it was definitely a good one(she got her SMG in a lucky raid with them, and has treasured it ever since for the fond memories and just downright usefulness of it), but one bad siege and the hideout was overrun. She was lucky to have gotten out of there alive, and it served to cement her viewpoint of keeping on the move at all costs.

But after that point, it was a lot harder than those first months-this was going on year two of the apocalypse, and most stores of food or supplies had either been looted or were being used as safehouses by other survivors. It wasn't as simple anymore as picking a house to sleep in and raiding its fridge; even if it hadn't been picked clean, the lights went out a while ago and rotten food would only serve to keep you weak. But the one thing absolutely everyone has...Is a Problem. And that means that getting in the industry of Problem Solving is getting into an industry with absolutely inelastic demand. Of course, having those pesky morals and standards, she does limit precisely which Problems she chooses to solve(no, she won't kill your cheating boyfriend for you, nor will she bomb a rival safehouse or draw Lurkers to them), which has resulted in a couple lean days in the past...but a bit of travel usually brings her somewhere that people are clamoring for someone to help purge a hive of Lurkers or escort a survivor tired of living in fear to a Shelter. There's more than a couple fond memories in particular of course; the Bank Job of '26(turns out that nobody actually uses paper currency much since anybody can rob an empty bank and inflate a local economy, but the good news is, free armored trucks! ...even if most of them use diesel), the Firebombing of '23(burning, rotten flesh smells even worse than burning human flesh, incidentally), and who could forget the Great Charlotte Siege!(nevermind that the entire idea of holing up the downtown of a major city was a godawful idea and that the Lurkers broke the lines, but she was there on the barricades buying time for the evacuation. Always felt proud of that one, and the bonus was nice)

All in all, despite having lived as a borderline child soldier, Victoria has few regrets in this life. Lot of people need a helping hand(carrying a semi-automatic gun) in this life, and Victoria? She's more than happy to provide.

Goals:
Priority One:Survival-Even with all the valuables of the world, you can't take it with you.
Priority Two:Help Other People-Money(well, resources anyways, old currency isn't as valuable anymore) might be important, but if she abandoned her compassion for others she might as well just turn to raiding.
Priority Three:Always Get Paid-Even so, she's far from a saint, and in a world like this she'll be damned if she's working for free.
Equipment:
"Armor"(Made up of salvaged plastic plates on forearms and calf; duct tape wrapped lightly around biceps and upper leg and pretty much everywhere she can get away with without restricting mobility too much; elbowpads and kneepads, otherwise joints left mostly be; and a old expired kevlar vest for torso protection-hey, even if it doesn't stop a bullet anymore, it'll stop a bite. Focus is less on impenetrability and more on toughness of materials balanced with lightness-she doesn't fight humans if she doesn't have to, so her priority is materials that are really hard to bite through or otherwise tear. Has a few ideas for a plastic chain or ring mail, but doesn't have the skills necessary to make anything like that, so this'll have to do for now)
Medical Pack(half-stocked, disinfectants and gauze prioritized)
Weapons(Specifics below, of course)
Armored Bank Car(Used as mobile house/valuables hoard, Annoying Logo spray-painted out, acquired third year into apocalypse; you'd be surprised just what gets left behind when the goddamn living dead start coming out of the woodwork)
Keepsakes(While she doesn't pine away for the old world, there's a few things she's kept all these years that she can't bring herself to part from)
Food(Nonperishables preferred obviously, but more and more difficult to acquire)
Weapons: Suppressed Modern Sub Machine Carbine(hereafter and prior referred to as 'MSMC', Specialized), Machete(Secondary), Hatchet(Secondary)
Skills:
1. Handloading(Expert-She's had to learn to make the most of every bit of metal and ammo she can get her hands on, especially when not all of the ammo she's paid in is the right chamber)
2. Metalworking(Advanced-Same reasoning, since she'll need to be able to melt the metal down and then get it the right shape to be loaded, but also to keep her other metal gear sharp and in good shape)
3. First Aid(Advanced-both to keep her and her clients and potential-clients alive, self-explanatory)
4. Firearms(Adept-While she likes to think she isn't absolutely terrible with her gun, the fact does remain that despite having a good seven-eight years to practice, even a suppressed gun is loud and if possible she's going to try to complete her work without attracting undue attention)
5. Melee(Adept-Again, in this case practice is dangerous, possibly moreso than with her gun though since it requires getting up close and personal with a Lurk. While she is...good enough, she's still wary about putting it to the test more than she needs to)
6. Repair(Novice-Parts can be harder to find than ammo these days, and all things honest she doesn't take care of her gun or the like as much as she should. Her other weapons are easier to keep in good shape and I'm assuming fall under metalworking. All things frank, she's lucky she figured out how to put her gun back together after cleaning it and has that much memorized)
7. Barricading(Novice-Life these past eight years has taught her that staying put is what gets people killed more than anything else. Lurkers are tireless, unwavering predators, and even the best-made wall will fall to a sustained attack eventually. She piles things against doors or windows to slow down and divert pursuers, not to stop them entirely)
Family: She's heard a cousin of hers going by the name of Samael Yuto's still kicking somewhere over in the Maine area, but for obvious reasons she hasn't been particularly able to confirm. Otherwise, no surviving family that she's aware of.
Miscellaneous: Will warn here and now that while I'm not new to RPing, I'm not particularly great at writing long detailed posts. I'll make a good effort, but I do apologize in advance if some of my posts are more lacking than others. ALSO if Charlotte is gonna be used as one of the Shelters of Zone B or something, just tell me and I can choose another city for the Great [Place] Siege to have taken place as or remove it entirely. I'd like to detail each of the mentioned incidents later on as more of a noodle incident but. Don't want her backstory to drag on way too much, and as things are right now any of them can just be snipped entirely(although I only feel like the 'Siege even might need to).

[SilentWriter83]

@Hiro Dark that's fine :)

[SilentWriter83]

The first IC post should be made soon, possibly after Xmas. Parents dragging me everywhere I have no time to type T^T

[Shoe Thief]

So I am pretty interested in the Role-Play here. I've been off the site a while so I am slowly working back into things. But I definitely would like to see if I can join this. I don't have time today to set up a character sheet though. But I can at some point over the next few days. It depends on the holidays and work (Or both in my case as my job relies on that).

[Briza]

@Remipa Awesome, welcome aboard! We're happy to have you, and please, feel free to jump in whenever you may.

[Shoe Thief]

@SilentWriter83@Briza

So... As I am spending time reading this I am thinking I actually have a character which should work really well with this Role-Play! I was thinking of trying a loner character who has attempted to survive inside a bomb shelter who over the years has started to lose his sanity due to lack of interactions with people. I am going to start working on the sheet tonight but then I noticed that the first character in the character's tab is also a loner from a bomb shelter.

I was just wondering if that would be an issue of some kind or if that was a reasonable solution to being a loner?

[SilentWriter83]

@Remipa Awesome Pm @Briza and I and we'll see what we can work out :)

[Shoe Thief]

Work has been crazy recently but I have some free time this morning. I am going to start piecing together my character sheets now and I am hoping to have them both done before I go in for work today, and if not I should have them done by tomorrow. Or if I am somehow awake when I get home tonight I will have it done tonight.

[Shoe Thief]

Two

Appearance:

My Hider

Name: Hunter Monroe (Two)
Age: Two is roughly thirty four years old, though due to his limited information he understands there is a give or take factor of about a year.

Gender: Male

Class: Two is a loner, though he understands it's testing his sanity he is more scared of people then what he might become.

Occupation: Though to him it does not mean much now, when he entered his little hiding hole it was his job to keep the Bunker in working order. He was the engineer for it.

Personality: At first glance people will notice a few things about Two. The most noticeable is he is scared of everything that moves, and anyone he can see. Though when not around other people he is relatively laid back when it comes to handling his every day life. When things do not go as planned or things go different then how they should normally go he stresses out, making mistakes, he gets careless. He gets paranoid. If he was ever to get use to being around people again he would still be very concerned that he would be double crossed by anyone around him so they could survive. Beyond that, Two would normally try to be a caring and understanding person, despite his fears of everyone and everything.

Background: Two at one point in life was known as Hunter Monroe. He was an only child with no real cares in the world. His family growing up was not necessarily poor, but they were not rolling in it either. Things were okay most of his life until the economy started to collapse, both of his parents worked jobs which at the time seemed pretty important, but after unemployment went up their jobs started to get cut as well. After that Hunter pieced it together that he had to figure things out for himself he did what ever he could to make himself useful. He studied carpentry mostly but soon advanced himself in school into electrical and industrial engineering fields. He was in no way perfect, but by the end of his school career he was deemed good enough.

Before the infection got really bad Hunter landed a job helping a friend of a friend build a simple bunker in the middle of the woods. He wasn't paid a lot for his work, but the deal was if things got really bad he had a ticket to enter. Seeing on the TV how bad things were getting, and how paranoid he was, he took the pay he got and helped piece together the structure the size of two medium storage containers, which at first seemed pretty big, until all the storage and long term systems were added in the mix. Then the bunker seemed pretty small for the amount of people it was intended for.

The day the bunker was sealed Hunter was actually in the process of finishing the ventilation systems. Technically the bunker wasn't made for a nuclear fall out, but his paranoid employer figured better safe then sorry. He was stopped on his way home by his Employer who he now refers to as One, and was pulled into the Bunker, being told Hunter could not be risked being lost as no one else entering would know enough about the bunker to keep it going when something broke down. He was pulled in before he could object to his parents still being home, having no idea how bad things were only a few miles away. Soon after him and his employer entered the bunker, his friend Ted, Ted's girlfriend, and Ted's own parents entered the bunker. Both Hunter and his employer knew things were going to be rough, but it was too late to turn them away.

The Bunker with now six people on the inside seemed crammed, originally it was designed to hold four people, and even that it would still be tight. There was enough food for four people to last five years with a mixed diet of canned goods for about two and a half years, and enough MRS for the remaining two and a half. With two additional people that time was reduced to a sliver over three. That time was extended as Ted's father had a heart attack. Fearing what he may turn into Hunter's employer shot him at point blank with one of the Bunker's few firearms and dragged the body as far as he could from the Bunker.

As time went on Ted's girlfriend had a child with in the walls of the Bunker, Ted's mother suffered a similar fate to her husband as she passed away in her sleep, only hours after the birth of her grand daughter. At first everyone thought it was her will to live that gave way, but as Ted's girlfriend passed soon after it did not take long to realize the generator was releasing carbon monoxide into the living area of the bunker. Hunter, Ted, The Employer, and the new born child spent the next two days outside while Hunter and the Employer attempted to figure out how to fix the generator and the ventilation systems.

Due to the death of Ted's girlfriend the new born child was on the verge of starving, so ted took one of the Bunker's firearms and went out to find supplies. Taking his truck he promised to bring back what ever supplies he could find while out. The young child died less then an hour after he left, The Employer left just long enough to deal with the body, Hunter didn't come this time.

Ted came back with enough supplies to buy some more time to hold out, though the Employer soon put it together that he was infected, and he only came back to make sure his daughter had a chance. Upon learning of his daughters death, Ted lost it, and attempted to kill the Employer convinced he wanted to thin the population to make the supplies last longer. It was at this point Hunter locked himself inside the Bunker to avoid the fighting, while leaving he was injured do to a stray bullet. He has walked with a limp since. When he came out a week later The Employer was dead, and Ted was no where to be seen. Hunter spent the better part of the next year looking for any motivation to stay alive. Eventually he just shut out any emotions, other then fear.

In his process to cope with the deaths of everyone he has known since he was sealed up, he stopped seeing everyone else as people, only numbers. The Employer as One, himself as Two, And everyone else in the order they came into the Bunker. The Numbers ending with Seven, at the new born child. Despite having enough supplies to hold up for a while, and the know how to keep the bunker functioning, once he was able to deal with his current situation Hunter decided to leave in hopes to find his parents, despite it has been years since he has entered the Bunker.

Most of the cars everyone took to the Bunker have broken down over time, and their fuel has diluted to a point of borderline uselessness. The truck still worked though, and despite the fuel getting terrible mileage combined with being so diluted and the truck's original mileage, he drove at a steady 30 miles per hour to reach his old home. Needless to say, he didn't find them. Due to the amount of time it took to get home, he spent the night in his old home. The place looked like it had been lived in for a while, but not by his family, there were elements of children living there. The most noticeable things were the new toys laying about. What was really noticeable was the smell. Something had died here. Recently enough that the smell was still strong.

By morning he had a lot of trouble leaving, he had spent most of his life in this house, through the good, the bad, and now, nothing. He again, tried to debate what was worth fighting for. It wasn't until he found a little toy dog, next to a small torn apart body. Seeing the toy plush dog next to the remains of this child set something off in his mind. He took the small dog, and slowly drove the truck back to the bunker, reassuring the Bunker's newest member that everything was going to be okay. He would spend the next few years attempting to make the Bunker and the surrounding area as livable as possible. He was going to make a life for Himself and Eight.

Goal: Two has one major goal in his mind, to find the will to survive.

Equipment: The bunker had all sorts of tools when it was first sealed, but as time went on a lot of them either broke down or just plain broke. Currently he has odds and ends of electrical tools, some basic carpentry tools, and a few odds and ends of things to maintain the small bunker, which is now falling apart.

What he tends to carry when he is out:
-A pocket knife
-A hatchet if he feels there may be a need for it
-Binoculars
-Goggles
-Other small tools

Weapons:
-The one he tends to use most, A sawed off pump action shotgun. Short effective range, but it will stop anything dead in it's tracks. Even if it doesn't kill them, it will slow them down.
-Am old 1911 pistol (.45 caliber pistol) is what he tends to carry on him as a back up. The bunker had a couple of them, but as time went on this is the only one that works.
-A 30-06 rifle, despite not being a great shot, the option for range is nice. Though he rarely carries it out with him when he goes out for supplies due to it's size compared to the shotgun.

Skills: (Medical, Firearms, etc. Limited to Seven, One Expert; Two Advanced; Two Adept, Two Novice)
-Carpentry: The skill he is best at *Expert*
-Electrical: *Advanced*
-Industrial: *Advanced*
-Firearms (Shotguns and rifles mostly, though limited with hand guns): *Adept*
-Agricultural: Not perfect, but enough that those potatoes look amazing after years of expired canned goods. *Adept*
-Medical: He likes to claim he can do some medical stuff, but what he does know he picked up from Hunter education courses. *Novice*
-Hunting: Hunter education courses did not go great with Two. *Novice*

Family:
-Both of Two's parents were missing by the time he went out to look for them, it is safe to say they have both died during the chaos. As for the rest of his family, he would have no idea what to think, or where to even look at this point in time.

Miscellaneous: Eight is Two's closest friend, if anything were to happen to the toy dog, that may be the end of his own will to live. Due to an injury from his time in the Bunker he walks with a semi noticeable limp. Many times he is able to keep it under control but even then, if someone where paying attention they would see it.

Hank Miller

Appearance:

Hank

Name: Hank Miller

Age: Sixty three (63)

Gender: Male

Class: Survivor

Occupation: Former Marine, Former Security officer, Current smuggler.

Personality: Hank in basics does not give two shits about any ones problems, primarily due to him having to fend for himself when things got bad. Hank is a stubborn man who thinks a show of force is the best way to go about things. And if that doesn't work, using said force. For the most part he is able to keep a level head in several situations, the exception when people bring up topics he would rather leave int he dark. Once those buttons are pushed faces are fair games. When pretending to be in a positive mood, he becomes a sarcastic asshole, ignoring the consequences of his choices.

Background:
Hank joined the Marine Corps at a young age, at first just so he could get a good education and get a decent job. That never happened. Eventually he was promoted to the rank of First Lieutenant, and the way he say it was he was earning nice money, he was in a respected position, and he was in a great situation to make a life for himself. He eventually married his girlfriend Mariam and between them had five children, the oldest daughter taking officer training to follow in her father's footsteps, His other children still in various levels of grade school.

When things started to get really bad Hanks Unit was mobilized to attempt to handle the situation near Savanna. They didn't even finish the trip there before the unit was overrun and was forced to pull away before suffering a complete loss of life. Hank's unit after going through failed deployment after failed deployment was unofficially disbanded, leaving Hank in a desperate position to try to defend his family.

As luck would have it, one of his former officers was tasked with recruiting a security force to protect some rich guys assets within the new safe zones. Due to Hanks great history with his former Colonel he was able to land a job that got him, and his family into the security zone. With the exception of his oldest child who's unit was deployed in the north, too far to risk the rest of his family to make. He would have to hope she knew enough to survive on her own. Two of his kids became ill on the trip, and were denied access into the safe zones, Hank sent the rest of his family in while he attempted to take care of his two children as they passed on.

After they passed he entered the safe zone and went into quarantine for two weeks. Upon entering his new home he started to get the idea that conditions may not be much better on the inside then the outside, with the exception of the infected on the outside. There was a completely different kind of infection on the inside though, Greed and power. IN an attempt to provide additional food Hank's oldest son attempted to join one of the local gangs, in the process getting himself, and Hank's other son killed when they tried to pull out of the crime ring.

When the word spread of what happened Hank lost his job as he was deemed a security risk. Due to his work since entering the safe zone he was allowed to stay, but he was no longer allowed to work in a position where he could be too much of a risk. When food became short, and depression took over, Mariam took her own life. Leaving Hank alone with his youngest, his daughter Kathryn. Who at this point in time wasn't even ten. Hank took what ever job he could get in hopes to keep the both of them fed, the longest he was able to hold down was factory work. Making things like truck parts, ammunition, batteries, etc.

Due to the poor living conditions Hank's daughter became ill, this is where Hank eventually enters the smuggling business in hopes of obtaining medicine to save his only surviving child. Before he was able to gain the needed medicine, Kathryn passes away at the age of nine. Hank has since worked to trying to make the leaders of his safe zone suffer as much as he has. With his limited abilities though, that mostly means making sure that they do not get to enjoy as many nice things as they would normally.

Goal: Hank's main goal is to make those in power above him hurt, any way he can. Mainly that is just stealing supplies or forcing counterfeits into the supply to throw everything off.

Equipment: Not a lot, he owns a pocket saw, has some string, and the wits from his years of experience.

Weapons:
-Hank owns one gun, the .357 he owned before shit hit the fan. The old six shooter works, but due to poor conditions and the lack of available parts it has a slight tendency to jam. Ammunition is a different story, he's able to gain some every now and again through smuggling, but he rarely has more then a few rounds at a time.
-Hank has a pocket saw, which in his hands is an extremely deadly weapon. despite being for cutting loose branches.
-Hank keeps a small multi-tool handy for those rare occasions where something needs to be broken or fixed. Or stabbed, stabbed works too.

Skills:
Expert skill:
-Firearms: Hank can handle most anything that shoots, anything from assault rifles, handguns, shotguns, to belt fed weaponry.

Advanced Skills:
-Strategy: Hank's time as an officer has helped him understand how to turn a bad situation into a manageable one. if he had to, he could turn a crew of basic workers into a force that could hold their ground in a good position (Assuming they do not break and run for their lives).

-Poker face: Hank is able to keep his thoughts to himself when he really wants to. This is useful for when he is being interrogated, when he needs to make up stories on the fly, etc.

Adept skills:
-Hand to hand combat: Despite Hank's age, he is still able to put up a decent fight if forced into hand to hand combat.

-Medical: Hank has some medical training, and even some practice. Nothing that would qualify him to be a doctor or a medic, but hopefully enough to keep someone stable until they could get to someone who knew a lot more what they were doing.

Novice skills:
-Basic mechanical: Despite having no real education in this field, he is able to figure out how basic moving parts go together and is able to in theory figure out how to get them to work correctly.

-Psychology: Hank does not have direct training when it comes to psychology, but his time as an officer he has been able to understand motives, actions, and people better because of it. This comes in handy when he needs to ask people questions, how to get an idea when they are lying, and when he needs to figure out information about people with out saying a thing. He is in no way a professional, but in a simple investigation he should be able to piece together some pieces.

Family:
-Wife: Deceased
-Oldest child: Missing, assumed deceased
-Four remaining children: Deceased

Miscellaneous: If someone were to pay attention they may notice some of the scars hank has at various places from his last few deployments. When he starts getting aggressive they may notice despite the weight he has lost he still has a lot of muscle left on him.

Note: Sorry for the inconsistencies in organization between the two sheets. Made them at completely different times and I figured the second one was working better then the first one. I just didn't have time to go back and change them before work.

[SilentWriter83]

Don't worry. The CS info can go in any order. It's just a nice outline to organize a char. Working on the intro post. It's been hard with the holidays. Now that everything is settling down I hope to finish soon and get it up :)

[Shoe Thief]

I AM EXCITED! I will need to sort out a lot of details for the post, but once the intro post is sorted out that should help a lot of them fall into place.

[SilentWriter83]

ALMOST DONE WITH THE FIRST POST
OH MY GOD IT FEELS SO GOOD TO SAY THAT.

[SilentWriter83]

@Remipa Awesome@Briza@Hiro Dark@Spud

so I made the first post
we had to re-do the posting order since we did have some people drop
if you aren't tagged, but created a char and are still interested contact me or Briza and we'll fix it ^^

New Order:

1. Me (SilentWriter83)
2. Briza
3. Spud
4. Hiro Dark
5. Rempia Awesome

Again we encourage quality over quantity but would hope for at least one post a week to keep things fresh and continuous
If you have any questions, comments, or concerns, feel free to contact myself or Briza
we're here to help :)
thanks for joining <3

[Shoe Thief]

I CAN'T WAIT TO POST! Going to spend time reading the other posts while I start piecing together mine, I should be able to put together Two's post due to him being pretty independent to start. Hank I will probably take time to read everyone's before I get too much done on his. I won't post either until my turn but I will get started now so I know what I want and what I don't want in it.

[Shoe Thief]

@SilentWriter83

Question, any specific things we should know about the infected and/or the rules and policies in the safe zones before posts start coming up?

[Shoe Thief]

@SilentWriter83

So I know that there is an order for posting, but I was wondering since at the beginning most of the characters will have little interaction or any with each other if it will be possible if I could start writing up my post now then fall back in the order of things?

[SilentWriter83]

@Remipa Awesome
@Spud
@Hiro Dark

Some Announcements:

So Briza has a lot going on so no longer can co-gm with me
That will change the posting order a bit.
Since there will only be three of us I suppose there really doesn't need to be an order really. Unless you guys like the posting order?