Ooooh, got it. Thanks for the answers!
[OOC] Code Vein (Closed) Page 2
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Medili Connoisseur of Fine Pineapples
Member
Seen
2 yrs ago
GM
dreamingflowers
Member
Seen
1 day ago
To all future players and applications: The maximum amount of Sidhe has been reached. We'll only review applications of the remaining races.
Thanks!!
To everyone who has already applied. We are busy reviewing all of them! When the two week deadline is over we'll let you know if you made it in.
Thanks!!
To everyone who has already applied. We are busy reviewing all of them! When the two week deadline is over we'll let you know if you made it in.
Force and Fury Actually kind of mellow
Member
Seen
1 day ago
So... anyone wanna collab back stories?
So... anyone wanna collab back stories?
I think it’d best be done once the cast is finalized.
For one, it’d be a bummer if one (or even both) of the collabers end up not qualifying.
For two, our CSs are technically not accepted yet so it’d also be a bummer to collab backstories but then it turns out one (or both) of the backstories need revisions post-review.
Force and Fury Actually kind of mellow
Member
Seen
1 day ago
Eh, collab wasn't really the right way of putting that. I mostly just wanted to discuss possibilities and toss some thoughts around (also wanted to bump this). Obviously, there's no point in making anything solid yet. It's like... I'm raring to go and have so many ideas and nowhere to share them yet. For me, a big chunk of the fun comes during the formative stage, when everything is new and open and we're all just talking in possibilities. Makes it that much sweeter when things come together.
GM
dreamingflowers
Member
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1 day ago
Glad to see you guys are so excited!!
So are we ^.^
It's only a couple more days until we'll close the applications. What's next is an invite to the discord server for the accepted players. After applications are closed it will be another week before we start the IC. That means you'll have plenty of time to discuss shared backstories, among other stuff.
Thanks for everyone's patience so far!
So are we ^.^
It's only a couple more days until we'll close the applications. What's next is an invite to the discord server for the accepted players. After applications are closed it will be another week before we start the IC. That means you'll have plenty of time to discuss shared backstories, among other stuff.
Thanks for everyone's patience so far!
GM
dreamingflowers
Member
Seen
1 day ago
@DClassified
@Medili
@Izurich
@Daxam
@Exit
@Force and Fury
@Theyra
@Pantothenic
Congratulations guys! You all made it!
I'll send you each a pm with an invite to the Discord. If you need to change anything about your CS I will include that in the pm too. If there are no changes needed you can post your CS in the character sheet tab.
@Medili
@Izurich
@Daxam
@Exit
@Force and Fury
@Theyra
@Pantothenic
Congratulations guys! You all made it!
I'll send you each a pm with an invite to the Discord. If you need to change anything about your CS I will include that in the pm too. If there are no changes needed you can post your CS in the character sheet tab.
pantothenic bored part-timer
Member
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2 days ago
Nice!
Woot! 
GM
dreamingflowers
Member
Seen
1 day ago
List of members
- Erik (founding member)
- Dallas (one month)
- Ionna (a couple of days)
- Ajax (founding member)
- Akaia (seven years)
- Lysandra (two years)
- Vincent (one or two days)
- Desmond (a few weeks)
- Cerise (about nine years)
- Poppy (Seven years)
- Erik (founding member)
- Dallas (one month)
- Ionna (a couple of days)
- Ajax (founding member)
- Akaia (seven years)
- Lysandra (two years)
- Vincent (one or two days)
- Desmond (a few weeks)
- Cerise (about nine years)
- Poppy (Seven years)
1x Like
GM
dreamingflowers
Member
Seen
1 day ago
Hi everyone ^.^
Quick update. I posted a relationships sheet you can use to keep track of the relationships between our characters. You can use it if you like, but it's not mandatory.
The IC will also be up in the next couple of days!
Quick update. I posted a relationships sheet you can use to keep track of the relationships between our characters. You can use it if you like, but it's not mandatory.
The IC will also be up in the next couple of days!
Force and Fury Actually kind of mellow
Member
Seen
1 day ago
Lysandra's Journal
Childhood
October 5, 2029
Hi MY NAMe is LYSANbra
iTs MY BiRTHbAY
(Gregory's note: like with her brother, we've started Lysandra on journaling. Once she turns seven, this will become a private diary. We believe that its significance is twofold: it's a literacy activity that she can take ownership of and a place for her to collect her thoughts and feelings and work through them. We hope that this is the start of something that will stay with her into adulthood and serve her well. If you ever go back and read this, we love you very much, cupcake - Daddy & Mommy.)
Setemder 28, 2031
Deer Jurnul,
I mab a dron today!!!! I nameb him Mister Scrufels. Mom anb Dab Dad helped. I druw a fase on him and flib him aronb eveywer. Im super happy. its my birthday in a week Ill be 7 anb I mab mad lots of new frends in Fresh Havin. Dad ses I can invit them. He ses were guna stay here a long tim. Good bye.
Lysanbra
Novermber 24th - 13:51
Dear Journal,
I hate you. Why do I have to write in you!? Why do I have to talk to you like a person? Why? Becuse mom and dad say so and there even gunna check later. They litterly took Mr Scrufles away untill I did it. I always have to do what they say, even when I have my own ideas. Like last week, when we went forig forge forageing and I found a sellphone. It looked pretty good and I thouht we should restore it but they said no it was more usefull for wires and it's tuch screen. What if there was cool stuff on there they didn't even look! I watched every epasode of Star Trek. Like every one and then Teen Tittans Go. Daniel's boared too. But he didn't even stand up for me and I have to write in this poopy thing. Ya, I said poopy and theres nothing you can do abbout it mom & dad. You aready took Mr. Scrufles and grownded me and theres no new shows so whatever. Did I write enugh?
Lys
October 5, 2036 - 22:25
Dear Journal,
I got a metal medal today! No, I didn't win it lol and that missed spelling is going to bug me now. The line through it is a mark of eternal shame. Anyway! Mom and Dad won't tell me how they got it, but it's a Supergirl one and it's pretty rad. Daniel only got a sweater for his birthday. That's kind of useful and neccessary actually, but a medal is still better. It's got a bright shiny ribbon too. Of course Supergirl would never actually wear a medal unless she was just rewarded it by the government or whatever, but I get to show it off a bit. Elise and Mel have already asked me to borrow it and I was like maybe. Dad said it was good luck. I don't really believe in luck, tbh. I believe in science, like him and Mom do, but I know he was just saying that because that's like what you say, right? I'm going to treat it like a lucky charm though, and take it everywhere I go. Mostly so Daniel or my "friends" don't try to steal it. I'll stab them in the kidney's if they do. :) Whenever I'm not using it, I'll hang it on Mr. Scruffles. That's where it is right now. Anyway, the lights are about to go out because Fresh Haven saves most of it's power for growing plants. Till next time,
Lys
April 30, 2039 - 21:00
So, I think I have a crush on Josh. He has just like... such a kind face and his hands are really nice. I'm blushing so much writing this. I feel so dumb. Only Josie and Mel know so far though, and Mel was like, "talk to Daniel, he knows Josh" but that'd just be super weird. I'm not going to tell my older brother that I like one of his friends. Sometimes Mel is kind of... special. Anyway, the big question is whether he has a crush on me. Josie insists he does. She says she caught him staring at me at least twice but I've never seen him. He always likes to hang out but then he gets really quiet around me so... I don't know. I literally just don't know. It's not like I could ask Mom and Dad. They'll just give me some sort of speech about how I'm "becoming a woman now" and "it's normal and natural" and "you'll figure it out, sweetie" and "when I was your age". Mom's period speech was traumatic enough. Seriously, I can't survive another one. Not even the supergirl medal's mystical powers can protect me lol. I got one piece of advice, and that was to ditch Mr. Scruffles. Yeah, that's not happening. He's my oldest and truest friend, he can fly, and he doesn't talk back. Mel, you're cut off for now (j/k). I'm seriously going to have to figure it out. Wish me luck!
Lys
January 9, 2041 - 08:45
Dear Scruffles,
I'm writing this now because I was too tired to do it last night. Your pages are filled with my growing list of adventures scouting. I'm usually quick. It's a point of pride. I can outrun, climb, and dodge basically anyone else my age. Mom says I'm lucky I got her legs and not Dad's because his knees are awful. I'll never know why parents brag about that stuff unless I ever become a parent, which I don't ever see happening, to be honest, unless we can reverse the collapse somehow. Maybe it'll start right here in Fresh Haven, but I'm not holding my breath.
Anyway, I think I'm trying to distract myself from writing what I know I have to write, almost as if putting it down on paper will make it real. Mr. Scruffles is gone. He was my first creation. Sure, Mom helped me (and even Dad), but I was seven and he was mine and I drew that derpy lil' face on him in permanent marker and it's been there ever since, all scuffed and dirty from a dozen forced landings. Logically, I know he's was just a piece of machinery, but he felt like a pet or even a friend. God, I'm such a loser.
Daniel and I were out on a scrounging mission. We've been going further lately without telling anyone because everything - and I mean everything - close to home has been picked clean of anything useful. We were ambushed. It was a pack of thralls and one of those tentacle guys. I just left Mr. Scruffles behind. I had to run and I forgot to pick him up and he's still there. Honestly, Daniel and I were really lucky to escape. I just keep thinking about my little buddy, though, alone and lonely out there in an unsafe place. I couldn't find his signal once we got safe. Daniel gave me a hug, but I can tell he secretly thinks I'm overreacting. Maybe I am, but for now until I find him again, you're Scruffles. Do the name proud. Signing off,
Lys.
Young Adulthood
October 20, 2043 - 19:00
Dear Scruffles!
I scored my first kill yesterday (aside from grimes since they don't really count)! I was with Brian, deep in the city where we usually like to go. It's our playground, honestly. Nobody else ventures out as far as we do, but I'd go further if he wasn't such a lil' chicken. Sometimes, I tease him about it, but then I always feel bad. He's honestly such a great guy and I know it. I don't want to emasculate him. I'd rather do... more productive things and we actually get some privacy out there.
Aaaaannnnyways, we found this office building a week ago full of good tech stuff. Those things are a pain with all of their stairs, but Dad always tells me how I'm young and in good shape and I should savour it because it won't last forever though I've got another solid fifteen years and blah blah blah. I just bend down, kiss him on the cheek and go. Really, the stairs are nothing if you pace yourself and one of the bonuses is that not many Lost make it up that high. There just isn't enough prey and it's not worth the effort for them.
Well, not yesterday! A pack of three thralls came straight out at us and I matadored (yes, that's a verb now) one and it went tumbling over the edge. I swear, for a second, I felt its claws grab at my shirt, but it didn't get a grip or that would've been a long long fall. Brian was able to impale another on a piece of rebar and beat its head in while it struggled to get free. I took my pistol out and all the practice I've been doing with Josie and Elise paid off. Three headshots and it dropped. Brian helped me toss him over the edge so it wouldn't just reform and gank us later. God, we had the best sex that night. TMI, I know, but I had to say it.
We returned like conquering heroes this afternoon with backpacks full of power coils, batteries, screen components, speaker components, and vacuum tubes. I'm ready to go out again as soon as I can, but it'll be a science run. I've been working with Mon & Dad, learning everything I can before they get too old. Honestly, they're already too old to take the risks that I do, so I'm doing 70% of their sample return and scavenging. Fingers crossed I can keep learning,
Lys.
July 5, 2045 - 20:30
Dear Scruffles,
He left. That asshole fucking left. Fuck. Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck HIM. It was supposed to be cathartic getting that out but it hardly was. I know we had problems, but then he's just like, "I think we want different things out of life blah blah blah. I tuned out the rest. He was just looking for an excuse. I'm angry. I know that. I'm being irrational. I know that. You know what? I don't care. Emotions are a part of life and we need to get them out. Besides - Ugh - that's one of the most bullshit things men always do, and Brian did all the time too: "let's look at this rationally," or "can we just calm down a bit," or "I honestly don't think it's as bad as you're making it out to be." It's all of the subtle accusations and mansplaining. That shit is toxic and he became toxic. You know you're done with someone when the thought of seeing them doesn't make you happy anymore, when you're more nervous than excited. We'd reached that point and, if I did make a mistake, it was trying to fix it. I put myself out there and then he just tore me down. I'm twenty FFS. I get that he's a few years older and I don't want to be an old parent like Mom and Dad, but we had time and it's suddenly such a big sticking point for him, like, "make a baby for me Lysandra."
Fuck you, pig. My body. My choice.
It's irresponsible to bring a kid into this world. Like seriously, take a look around. It's just selfish. I'm going to be real here: he was never that blunt or rude about it literally, but it was this constant, building pressure to get serious. I'd be lying if I didn't say he had his good points, but I can look back on things with some clarity now and see how controlling he was. We had to go everywhere together and do everything together and god forbid I talked to any guy friends. Like Josh? Okay, I had a crush on him when I was twelve and here we are a decade later and you're going to be that insecure? Yeah, no thank you. I just wish I'd had the guts to be the one to end it. 'Rationally', I know it's not true, but I almost feel like he got one last shot in. He controlled me one last time and put himself above me. Whatever. Fuck him. Here's to a few weeks of depression, too much drinking, and reconnecting with my friends and family. Maybe I'll even find time for some of Dad's 'back in my day' stories. 'Til then,
Lys.
June 11, 2046
My Dad died today. He's gone. I'll never see him again. I can't even find the words and I don't know why I'm writing it. Maybe because I can't say it. He was the only one I could share my feelings with and I didn't do it enough. I always just kissed him goodbye even when he had something important to talk about. I can't believe this is real. I can't imagine anything worse. I keep hoping it's a nightmare but I know it's not. Honestly, I don't have the energy to write anymore.
March 30, 2047 - 21:45
Dear Scruffles,
Guess who's an auntie! It's yah girl, Lys! Daniel and Mel have been busy preparing for the past nine months, pretty much, and to be honest, I was getting a little sick of it. It's all good now, though! The lil' guy finally decided to enter the world. Shame it's such a sad sack place, but if anyone can keep him safe, it's my big brother (and Mel's pretty badass too).
I could see the pride on his face. It was a tangible thing, and I couldn't help but feel some too. I'm proud of my brother and his big heart. He's not a reckless idiot like I am. He's actually building something and sometimes it makes me wonder. The spectre of children was enough to drive a wedge between me and Brian, but that's neither here nor there. Today was all about little Tucker. He's still a shriveled red little conehead at the moment, but if he ends up looking anything like his parents, he'll be just fine. It was good to see Mom so happy too. She's been coping since Dad passed in the only way she knows: by working harder, but I hope that being a grandmother will bring back a bit more of her smile. I've missed it.
The three of us and Mel spent hours trying to coax him to open his little eyes, and he did - kind of - a handful of times. I know he isn't mine, but I find myself caring about him and in wonder at a new life. This world is so broken. It doesn't have enough of that. I'll protect that kid. I'll be that friendly non-parental adult I know that he'll need. I wanna be the cool aunt and not the wine aunt, but we'll see where life takes us, eh? I seriously can't imagine myself ten years from now. What'll thirty-two-year-old Lysandra Tran look like? Seriously, if you're reading this, future me, you'd better be awesome! Until next time...
Lys.
October 10, 2049 - 23:45
Dear Scruffles,
I should totally be asleep right now. I have a scav mission in the morning. I got the radio to work, though, and pulled the songs off of that old smartphone. It's crazy to me how everyone used to have one and you could just keep all of your favourite stuff on it and talk with anyone anywhere anytime. To think that we had that and lost it all... it's sobering.
Speaking of which, you know you're drunk when you wanna write a happy entry but end up in that place. Geez. Anyway, pre-collapse music is really something. It's so dense and layered. There are so many sounds and so much of it is electronic. We danced like demons. God, it was so much fun. The parts were a birthday gift from Derek and this was the best use I could've imagined for them. Honestly, I wasn't sure about him before. He seemed like a playboy, but he does these sweet things - genuinely sweet and not contrived - and I think I need to own up to my misjudgement of him. Someday, Derek, if we're an old married couple and you read this, know that tonight was the moment I started believing in you. Right now, you're lying in bed, all snuggled up and I just want to make you happy. I want you to be mine and to feel loved. You deserve that. Really, everyone does.
Okay, I can officially admit that was corny AF. Time to fall asleep. 'Til next time,
Lys.
December 29, 2050 - 17:30
Dear Scruffles,
It was a rough Christmas. Mom had a flu and, after what happened with dad, we were all on edge. Even little Tucker seemed to sense that something was up. He kept saying "Hawmyomi" and trying to scamper over to her bed. Mel was pretty much ready to pop so we didn't want to put any more stress on her. The result was that the little rugrat got to spend plenty of quality time with "Aunt Wyss" and said aunt had precious little time to spend with a special somebody named "Umcuh Dewek."
I'm sitting here with that lucky medal around my neck. I guess I've become a little more superstitious than I'd like to admit, but it seems to have worked. Little Lyra entered the world yesterday and Mom seems to have turned a corner. We didn't want her standing yet, but we wheeled her into the room to take a look from a distance. She isn't contagious at this point and she knows it, but there's an excess of maternal caution at work.
Sometimes I feel weird about that. Am I just wired wrong? I like Tucker. God knows I'm pretty much an overgrown child myself. I just... don't really feel the urge to have children of my own, and it's not a fear of pregnancy or childbirth either. I just... I don't know. Anyways, I have to go. Tucker's crying and I want to let his parents get some long overdue sleep.
Lys.
August 18, 2052 - 13:30
Dear Scruffles,
I dumped his ass. Honestly, it's been coming for a while. I'm kind of not even mad, per se - just fired up. If I'm going to be totally honest, once it happened the first time, I should've cut him loose, but he's so smooth. I think, even in some messed up part of his mind, he believes his own bullshit. I pegged him for a player and I was right. Men say we're the irrational ones yet, as soon as they see a pretty woman who pays them any real attention, they just lose all logic. It's kind of pathetic.
Truth told, I kept him around for the sex. I kept him around because I was needy. I kept him around because I was almost... ready for the letdown, as weird as that sounds. It doesn't hurt as much when you're expecting it. It was almost a case of, "okay, well you're cut. Bye."
He's already tried to worm his way back in. He didn't try the "it'll never happen again" approach because he knows that I wouldn't buy it. He's not intellectually dumb. He's brilliant. He's not socially dumb either. He's smooth. He's emotionally dumb and... I'm rationalizing for him again. Fuck, I have Stockholm syndrome. He's not emotionally dumb. He's selfish and an asshole. There. I said it.
Deep down, I think I'm a bit scared. I'll be twenty-eight in just over a month. I'm not super young anymore. I remember that conversation I had with my Dad when I was nineteen. He said I'd have about fifteen more years of youth. That was almost a decade ago and just thinking about that makes me miss him so dearly. He'd give me the hug I can't admit I really need. I'm more than halfway through that fifteen, though. How many more chances will I have before I'm old? What'll it look like being thirty-five or whatever? What'll it look like if I'm on my own? The one thing that I know is that Derek isn't the one and that's that. The search resumes. :( Stay tuned for the next episode of:
Lys.
February 14, 2053 - 07:45
Dear Scruffles,
Just a quick one today, since I'm headed out on a long scav run. We had a traveler come by a month ago - a Sidhe - and she told us about a mistle she'd seen and gave some rough coordinates. Normally, Fresh Haven would never send someone into that part of the city - it's rough - but they know I'm their best person and, honestly, I volunteered. I've been trying to continue Dad's work but I've been bottlenecked for almost a year without samples, but I'd be lying if I said that was the only reason...
Mom's not doing so hot. She's not sick, exactly. She's just elderly and her blood pressure's high and... I'm not ready for what I know is coming. It could be in six months or six years, but it's coming and, to be honest, how can you ever be ready for that? Then there's Derek and his attempts to "win [me] back" and it's getting kind of pathetic. Add to that, Mel's been bugging me to watch Tucker all the time lately, like I don't have a life of my own. When a situation frustrates you, you need to remove yourself from it, so that's what I'm doing. Wish me luck!
Lys.
Injury & Recovery
February 24, 2053 - 09:40
Dear Scruffles,
I finally got them to bring you back to me! I wish we didn't have a lot of catching up to do. I really wish we didn't. I'm admittedly in a happy drug-induced haze right now and I think the full enormity of things hasn't really dawned on me. I'm actively pushing that back. When it hits me I'm sure it'll be awful but... I don't know. I'll cross that bridge when I reach it. I fucked up, finally. Me against three Lost - and one was pretty serious. I should've died, but I didn't. That's always a good thing. No matter what I think later, it's good and I need to remind myself that. I can hold my hand to my chest and feel my heart beating and I'm just so grateful that this adventure called life didn't end.
I tell myself that's not the morphine speaking. I'm in the med room, just dreaming away, feeling all warm and safe and cared for. I've seen so many people who I haven't in years. Even Brian - my ex from way back when - stopped by and we talked. It was good to see him and he's doing well. They brought my good luck medal and figures I didn't have it on me during that last run. Daniel came with my radio too and put it right up by my bedside. It sucks being stuck in bed. It'll be over soon but, whatever happens, I just want to be out again and moving around.
Dr. Sandhu says I broke my back but that it's early going and I'm young and healthy. I know how this works in vertebrates (of which I'm one!): the spinal cord goes into shock. It heals and scabs and tries to repair, and you don't know how serious the damage is until later. It's hard to tell how much function I'll lose - if any - or retain - if any. I shudder to think about it and the spectre of how things are going to change reaches in through my rose-coloured cocoon of chemcially enhanced euphoria like a cold, rough hand to shake me.
My scavenging days are over. I just pray that it's not too bad. My body's strong. I've treated it well and now is its time to repay me. Truthfully, though, we can't separate the body and the mind. That's poetic folly. I can't feel my legs. I keep waiting for something. I keep telling myself I've felt something. Dr. Sandhu said it'd be a week or two before we'd really know more and he could start getting me ready for rehab. Hah! That's a place I've been before. Brian was the cause last time around, or all the drinking I did after our breakup. I was half a girl then, and stupid.
I might be half a girl again now, just more literally. I have three more days; then, we reach the two week point. I'm counting the hours, praying to a God I don't believe in. And should the worst happen and I hear a regretful "Lysandra, I'm sorry, but you're never going to walk again"? God, that's an alien thought. It doesn't seem real. I feel so nice right now, even though I'm scared. So if it happens that way, then I'll get my crippled ass in a good wheelchair and I'll manage. One way or another, I will. Just thankful that there will be a next time,
Lys.
April 18, 2053 - 18:30
Dear Scruffles,
I didn't feel like writing the 'dear' and that's not your fault. Last night was a good night, sitting there with Daniel like when we were kids, making up ridiculous creatures like the "Plum-bottomed Flutz-Warbler, Purple-speckled Snobleorb, and the Pickled Vomitfish. I tell myself that it was fun to remind myself that there will be good times. I can still have good times.
But it's so hard to see that now. The pain today was unreal. Just sitting up without the back support. They have me in this kind of brace but I can feel the rods - foreign objects - implanted in my body. They're making me do things that they say are for my own good. Dr. Sandhu and the nurses are looking in all of these old pre-collapse books and they're asking me to help, trying to get me to take an interest in my own 'recovery'.
I can't. I just fucking can't. I tried to be optimistic. The first time they let me out of bed, they lifted me into a wheelchair and, honestly, I'd been robbed of going anywhere for more than two weeks, so it felt amazing just to be able to move around at all. I thought I'd be okay, but I'm not. This body is a prison. It's a broken thing and all the rehab in the world might make it a bit better but will never make it heal. My only option is to live like this - reduced - forever.
I thought it'd just be a matter of not walking. I thought I could live with that, but... God... this journal is only for me. Maybe you're the only thing keeping me in the game at this point, Scruffles. You and the shame of giving up and letting my family down. They're all stupidly happy-faced and encouraging because they don't have to be me. They don't have to 'live' like this. It's really dawning on me that they have no idea. I can't even go to the bathroom properly. I can't get myself out of bed. I won't feel sex. God, I'm crying as I write this and I feel pathetic and helpless. How could this happen to me? Why did this happen to me? It's so fucking cliche - "why me?" - but I get it now. I wish I didn't. I wish I could go on living blissfully unaware. I don't want this knowledge. I don't want this burden but I'm just trapped and can't give it back. I've lost basic things - bedrock things that you learn as a little little child - and I have to somehow come to terms with that or I don't think I can go on.
I can't live as a thing that other people move around and say nice things to. I can't be an object without agency, always needing from others just to function - an object of pity, a "what happened to her?" or an "it's not nice to stare." And I'm scared of being alone. I'm half of me and I'm helpless and, sure, everyone was there at my bedside a month ago, but that's not the case anymore. It's just Mom and Daniel mostly now and Mom is so old. She shouldn't be taking care of me. I should be taking care of her. She says there'll be time for that later, that I can pay her back when I'm better, and I want to take comfort in those words. I want to manifest them into reality, but they're just not true. My mother is a smart, strong woman - I've always wanted to be like her (even though I never will be, now) - but she doesn't know what she's talking about. I will never be able to care for her. It'll be a challenge just to care for myself and reach an uneasy kind of resource-neutral. The future is a terrifying place. All of the stairs and tight passages in Fresh Haven have dawned on me. This place is a trap and I can't navigate it. I just want out, so badly. I just want to fast-forward the next year. I want to finish rehab and achieve all of those things the books say that I can achieve. Then, I tell myself, it won't be so bad. But it will.
Lys.
June 11, 2053 - 22:30
Dear Scruffles,
Today was the seventh anniversary of Dad's death and it should've been a sad day, but it wasn't. It brought my family and friends together and we had fun. I turned on the radio and people danced. It felt like half of Fresh Haven was there and that was probably about right. We're only a big settlement by the standards of post-collapse. There are two-hundred-twenty of us. To put that into perspective, had I died, we'd have lost 0.45 of our population. Good thing I'm still kicking... well, not literally, but you get the idea. :P
I put on a brave face for Mom and did my best to help out. There's some biochemical truth to the idea that smiling enhances your mood. If I can bear to be that cringeworthy, I'm going to try to wake up every morning and make a point of smiling. (Lys note December 6, 2053: that didn't last)
I helped cook, I babysat Lyra with some of Tucker's help, and I carried things on my lap. I've learned that I'm basically a human shopping cart now. I should start renting my services out. Of course, the kids wanted rides and I indulged them. It turned into an impromptu workout, but then Tucker was so sweet. He said that he should pay me back for carrying him around all day by pushing me. I didn't refuse.
I also didn't skip rehab. I've been reading all the old books. I've learned everything that I can, and I'm trying to push myself and beat the expected progress chart for someone with my injury level. Ever since the body brace came off a few weeks ago and the settlement pulled together to trade blood for my new permanent wheelchair from the provisional government, life has started to feel worth living again. I can kind of pop a wheelie now. I couldn't transfer into the old hospital chair before because of the armrests but, as long as someone spots me, I can kind of get it now. The various helplessnesses that have been shackling me are falling away and I can't get very far yet - it's like some pre-collapse videogame and I'm still in the starting area - but I've been trying to be a help around the office. I've been giving some thought to that. Josh dropped in last week to prep for a scav run and we talked shop a bit, but it struck me that my days as a scav are definitely behind me. Maybe I can learn medicine. Juliana's not young and neither is Dr. Sandhu. I can become a nurse or a doctor. God knows Fresh Haven needs those.
I think that practicality is going to be key, going forward. I made a decision last week when Dr. Sandhu and Juliana offered to put me in a standing sling and help work my legs out. Sure, it was tempting. One of the things that's been weirdest is always looking up at people I used to see eye-to-eye with. It'd be nice to stand. It'd be nice to tell myself that, with enough practice and determination, I'll walk again, but that's the path to fruitless obsession. Rationality dictates that complete paralysis won't undo itself because I 'work hard,' so all of my current efforts are focused on absolutely optimizing the abilities I still have. Dr. Sandhu says that being so healthy and a natural athlete has helped. It's such a long climb and I really don't feel like an athlete most days - I feel more like a sack of potatoes with two dangly things - but I asked my body to return the favor and take care of me, and it's giving me all that it has left. I can't ask for better. Mom's been pushing herself too hard coming in and helping me as is. God, she even helps me in and out of the bath. Getting that independence back is my next goal, and not just for my own dignity. She's plucky, but she's old as dirt. I can't bear to see her hurting and she was today, on the anniversary. I won't let myself be the source of any more hurt. You raised me right, Mom and Dad. Paralysis sucks, more than you could ever understand, but I'm not a quitter. I'll find a purpose and I'll make you proud. Yours in hope,
Lys.
October 8, 2053 - 01:10
Dear Scruffles,
I celebrated a birthday a few days ago, I'm out of rehab (almost eight months clean from devastating injuries!), and people have fixed up a new little place for me on the first floor. I should be happy, right?
I swear this isn't another emo entry. God only knows most of your recent pages have been filled with the long, depressing, semi-coherent rants of a bitter cripple. I'm not here for that today. (subsequent note: okay, I kinda was)
Full disclosure: it's late and I'm not sober. See? Only a drunk person would think that's worth putting to paper. Hah! Anyways, the power is out now and I'm doing this by candlelight. I just need to wax philosophical and drop some honesty about Lysandra 2.0.
Truth bomb one: I'm twenty-nine, a paraplegic, and haven't had a man in my life for almost two years. I can't do the job that I used to do anymore, I can't get around the settlement I live in, and I can't afford to take the physical risks that have always brought excitement to my life. Those are just facts. I could cry about them and I have plenty of times before, but I'm weirdly at peace with it all now. I had incredible adventures and incredible loves. I did things that almost no human gets to do. I'm grateful for all of that, and I'll cherish that Lys and her adventures forever, but it's time to turn the page and let her go. My second chapter is going to circle the wagons around the other skills and talents that I have and that I've neglected. It's going to be a selfless chapter, dedicated to making the world a better place instead of pursuing my selfish whims and subjective wants.
Truth bomb two: I have skills and I'm smart. Is there any way to say that without sounding full of myself? It's true, though. In my seven months on the med floor, I picked up things to the point where I was treating people. I've been going in twice a week since release not as a patient, but as relief for Juliana. Then, during my convalescence, I read through all of Dad's old work. I helped Mom with hers as much as I could and all of those neglected skills came back so easily. I fixed half of the PA system myself, built an infrared-sensing drone, and came up with a new greywater recycling system that increased our efficiency by twenty-five percent. At the risk of sounding either arrogant or like some useless person trying to convince herself that she still has worth, the world needs me. I can do a lot of good.
Truth bomb three: But I'm not going to make the most of my potential here. This next bit might just be me telling myself lies to help my shitty state of mind, but I feel like I wasted the last ten years of my life running around the ruins digging up parts from dead civilizations. There are other people who can do that. I should've been researching and building, using my mind. It's less immediately rewarding and exciting, but it can actually change the world. and, had I taken that path, I wouldn't be stuck in this wheelchair. The thing is that there's only so much I can do in Fresh Haven. We're all humans and a couple of Sidhe and we don't have the numbers or resources that the provisional government does. I hate the idea of existing as some kind of cattle to be farmed and I tell myself that maybe I can earn their respect as a researcher, but I have my doubts. Are they only going to see some broken human: a thing to protect?
Truth bomb four: Except for Mom, Daniel, Tucker, and Mel, all that people see now is the wheelchair. It broke my heart the other day when I was watching Lyra as she was climbing around on the lower rungs of a scaffold and I told her about how I used to climb on them as a girl. "Buh Auntie," she said, confused, "how could you cwimb? Youw wegs don't wowk." She has already forgotten and will never know the me that was. It's indescribably hard to put myself out there these days. I can sense the awkwardness in people. I can feel them not wanting to invest in me. I can hear their judgements and pity in my mind's ear, even when they're well-intended. I try to use humor to cope: for myself and to set others at ease, but always being the one to take the first (figurative) step is exhausting. I need to reach out first and remind them that I'm just another person with a whole personality, sense of humor, set of skills, and hopes, fears, and dreams to match. Sometimes, I don't feel like laughing at myself. I want to skip straight to being seen as capable, but I know that it's worth it. It's one of the adaptations I've had to make: less obvious but every bit as important. Most importantly, it usually works.
Truth bomb five: I'm going to need that skill because I think I have to move. Fresh Haven itself is a problem. I can't believe I'm saying it because I've spent the last twenty-four years of my life here. I've become the person that I am here. It feels ungrateful and I really do appreciate the effort that everyone has put in for me, but I can't live in a place that's all vertical. Sure, I have a little apartment on the first floor, but that's the only place where I can move somewhat freely. I can't even make it to the big lunch room. I can't get to the med floor or workshop on my own. I have to be carried up multiple flights of stairs to my brother's or my Mom's place. I'm cloistered here on my own: the only inhabitant of a floor that most people pass through on their way to something else, or the sole reason for their brief visit. It's just not tenable in the long term physically or emotionally, for me or for them. I can tell that my family and friends aren't ready to accept that yet. They can't imagine me not being here, especially after they almost lost me, so I haven't brought it up. The thing is, I've accepted it. I just need to break it to them.
Truth bomb six: the hardest one is going to be Mom, but she's also the one who needs to hear it most. The way that she's been busting her ass for my sake since my accident is going to kill her. I'm more grateful than I'll ever be able to put into words, but there's just as much guilt. She's seventy and she carried me up two flights of stairs twice last week. She can't keep this up and she has to realize that deep down. I know her, though. She doesn't know how to not answer the call if there's work to be done. That's why I'm worried. I haven't seen her since my birthday three days ago and that's unusual. Daniel says she's just tired from overwork, but I can't help but feel like he's keeping something from me. Tucker always talks about Grandma when I babysit him and Lyra during the afternoons. He was tight-lipped today. Something is up and they've decided that telling me is more trouble than it's worth. I want to see my mother. I want to help. Tomorrow, when I go in to the med floor, I'm going to ask to be dropped off on my Mom's floor. I don't care if I have to sleep on her couch. If the world won't help me freely, I'll trick it into doing so.
Anyways, I've spent an hour on this. I don't know how I'm awake, but I think it's helped me sort out a few things. Thanks Scruffles,
Lys.
October 12, 2053
Dear Scruffles,
Mom is dead. She was dying and they didn't tell me. They pretended everything was okay. They kept me from my mother until she was almost gone because I was too much of a burden to bring upstairs. They didn't consider that maybe I could've stopped the flu. Maybe I could've saved her. All I got to do was say goodbye. She was barely even coherent.
I'm shellshocked and don't have words for everything I'm feeling, but I've lost more than a mother today. I've lost my whole family. This is the kind of betrayal that just... How can I forgive it? I shouldn't. Daniel, you're my brother. We grew up together. You protected me. You loved me and I loved you. I don't want to make everything about me. I want to mourn the woman who brought me into this world, who made me who I am (and who I am is a damned good half a person), who survived seventy years in a place where everything wanted to kill her. I just have so much anger right now. I hit him with all of it. We had a screaming match right then and there and I wanted to hurt him - physically hurt him - but there was nothing I could do, nothing I can do. Then Mel tag-teamed me and they let it all out together. Apparently I made things all about me and I needed to be grateful for everything they'd done on my behalf, for all they'd given up.
I am fucking sick of being 'grateful.'
Maybe had you pieces of shit let me help, our mother would still be alive, but all you saw was a burden - worthless deadweight - and not someone who had medical skills, who would've given her everything to care for Mom, and who had a right to be there.
The best part was when I had to 'apologize' and grovel and he had to carry me downstairs. We didn't speak a word. I honestly wouldn't have cared had he dropped me. I would've dragged him down with me. The hardest part is Tucker and Lyra. Their parents are going to raise them to be as cold and narrowminded as they are. I love those kids - I spend as much time with them as their parents do - but they're screwed. I wonder how the couple that slays together will manage without me to do all the work raising their kids now. Not my fucking problem. I tried. I loved them. Just like I loved my mother, but that's all gone now. She's gone. She's literally dead and I will never get to see her again. I can't.
Vein & Commune
February 13, 2054 - 09:45
Dear Scruffles,
For the first time since I was six years old, I'm going to lay my head down in some place other than Fresh Haven and call it home. If my writing is a bit messy please excuse it. I'm in a van as we speak, I've just stopped waving goodbye, and my old home is fading into the distance. We're headed for Vein, the provisional government's capital. They say they're impressed with my work and they have things all set up for me there.
I'm sorry that I haven't written as much as I should've lately. I've been a busy woman. That decades-old project to redo our entire filtration system? I've completed it. The sheer number of parts that I accumulated during my years as a scav was prodigious, and Mom had the schematics ready. She was just waiting for someone - me - to help her complete it. She put that on hold at the end of her life so that she could help me rebuild mine. The word 'grateful' has become, in many ways, a poisoned one for me over the past year, but I am grateful to her for more than I can ever express. She saved me. She gave me everything I needed to remake myself, so I finished her final, great project. In truth, it was already nearly half-done.
I'm leaving Fresh Haven behind today and I doubt that I'll ever be back except, hopefully, to visit. I leave with a clean conscience, though. I made up with Daniel and Mel. I spent my last two months training him to take over my job. He can be so much more than a soldier. I can see now how it ruined him: how it turned him harsh and anxious and overprotective. Soldiers are valuable, but he has a mind that he's wasted, like I did before.
You know, as we moved through the halls and basements, as we elbow-crawled through access tubes and hatches, it was almost like we were kids again, exploring this wondrous new place. I looked upon it with new eyes too, really appreciating the ramshackle wonder of it and what it means to so many people. We made peace.
I spent my last few days in Fresh Haven with Tucker and Lyra. I've mostly been sleeping over at Daniel's, but they came over to my little apartment and, since most of my few belongings were already in boxes, we made the entire place our playground. We painted the walls with our handprints, played tag, and slept in blanket forts.
Dammit. I'm crying. I will never see those kids grow up. I hope they remember me because I'll sure remember them. Tucker, Lyra, if this ever somehow makes its way into your hands, know that I love you and I'm sorry. I did what I had to so that I could live a good life and so that I could help other people. I hope it worked. I hope I made the world a better place. Your aunt and friend,
Lys.
March 28, 2054 - 11:45
Dear Scruffles,
My favourite place in the world right now is the long gallery. Let me describe it for you: it's this epic covered bridge and the whole thing has a curve and a slight slope. All along the sides are what used to be little restaurants and shops. Some of them still are, but most are storage. The best thing about it is the tiles, though. They're super smooth and kind of slippery. Okay, well, when I have to go back up the slope, it's pretty awful. My arms are usually done by the end of it unless I can get a revenant to give me a good shove forward. That runs about a fifty-fifty.
Anyways, put it together, my nonsentient journal friend: Long open downhill with a curve, smooth, slippery tiles... I Tokyo Durifted that shit! All of it! Skrrt skrrt! Not gonna lie: it took a lot of spinouts first and more than one nasty spill. People watched cripple meet ground with horror etched on their faces: Oh no! Squishy hooman down! To be honest, I've still got this sweet purple bruise on my right knee, but joke's on it: I didn't feel nuthin' (and I checked to make sure there was no serious damage - we're good).
A month and a half into this experiment, and I'd say that things are going pretty swimmingly. I think I can finally say that I've explored almost every wheelchair accessible inch of the city and it's been good for sating my wanderlust. Speaking of sating, my biggest misgiving was always (and remains) the mandatory blood donations. They leave me weak and drained for hours afterwards and, seriously, I feel like I'm being farmed.
For what it's worth, the people here appreciate it, though. I can see that they like me and I like 'em right back. I have ambitions to learn how to cook a bit better than before. I'm not a field operative anymore, so a life of shitty rations is not in the cards. There are enough humans here that cooking isn't seen as decadent and wasteful, either. Besides, when we have surplus, the revenants love sampling. They were human once too and I'd never deny them the joy of eating. There are times, to be honest, when I'm hunched over a workbench at two in the morning and my stomach starts grumbling, when I momentarily wish that I didn't get hungry. Overall, though, I couldn't imagine a life without food. Speaking of which, it's lunchtime!
Lys.
August 18, 2054
Dear Scruffles,
I'm frustrated. No, not that kind of frustrated (well, actually, that too). I've just been struck, quite clearly, with the realization of exactly what I am to the provisional government: a free source of blood.
Sure, there are people who like me here. I like them right back. The thing is that I came here to have some agency and to make a difference. Aside from the fact that it's a lot easier to physically get around, life here has fallen well short of both of those goals.
As a human, I have no value. As I suspected, I'm only here to be farmed. I've applied for field research support five times now. They made valid-sounding excuses the first few: I hadn't settled in yet and there'd be plenty of time for that later, I should coordinate with other researchers in the field (turned out that there were none), they had to look through personnel files to help me put together a team (waited two months on that one).
Then, they said that they couldn't spare the personnel and recommended that I go into the field myself. Oh how I wish! Trust me! It felt like some pencil-pushing jackass had sat there, with a wormy little smile on his face, writing that recommendation as a deliberate 'fuck you'.
It's been suggested to me, none-too-subtly - or maybe these people just suck at subtlety and that was their idea of it - that, if I want to get ahead here, I will have to become a revenant. Trust me: it's something I've considered. Eternal life, super strength, and special abilities definitely have their appeal. Of course, the elephant in the room is my injury. Revenants heal from anything as long as it doesn't destroy the BOR grafted onto their heart. That's the thing, though: they're brought back to life from fatal injuries and then heal fuller and faster from those they sustain while they're revenants. I'm a grey zone case and nobody's ever bothered to revive a paraplegic. It's an old injury and I've been alive and more or less functional with it for over a year. Could I spend an eternity in this body? Shit, I don't know. I really don't.
Of course, there's no guarantee that things will even work out. I could wake up in a matter of days or decades. So many of what we assumed to be the rules of biology are broken by that of revenants that it's hard to say. So, here's what I plan to do: I'm going to apply for an archives research permit. That won't cost them anything. They keep records of all approved parasite implantations. I want to build up some data on that. There has to be some method to the madness. I'll have to look at factors like age, gender, cause of death and nature of injuries, ethnicity, time of death, and so on to determine how they affect sleep time before a new revenant wakes.
If I can find a way to predict, with reasonable accuracy, when one will wake up, I'll have done at least some good here, despite their insistence that I do nothing but feed them. Then, maybe. It feels like giving up on life. I don't want to die, even if it'll fix my body. I don't want to lose my people, even though I've left them. Honestly, though, if I can be whole again, if I can have more agency and more time, it might really be worth it. I promised I'd make my decisions for others and not myself, after all. If I can't, however, then... I'd say it'd be time to go back to Fresh Haven, but I don't know if I can live in that much dependence after experiencing this. It would be really nice if a third path showed itself, but that's nothing more than blind conjecture and wishful thinking. I'm better than that, I think. Yours in frustration,
Lys.
August 29, 2055 - 21:00oo
| stuff | stuff |
|---|---|
 | Dear Scruffles, I thank a nonexistent deity every day that you're not sentient because, if you were, you'd hate me for the endless streams of angst and snark I fill your pages with. Honestly, I feel like I have a right to. I'm fucking crippled and it fucking sucks - forgive the unladylike language. This is my place to vent my hundred little frustrations and spill out my self-doubts so that I don't do it to other people who neither want nor should have to hear it. |
We parked the van, piled out, and then things got bad. As soon as I saw the enemy, I knew I was fucked. Cobblestones: my newfound nemesis. God, I used to think they were cool and quaint back when I didn't have to roll over them. So, long story short, I volunteered to stay behind with the van. I'd like to say that it was chill, but I'd be lying. Being half a squishy human all alone in the middle of a dangerous wasteland is not a good feeling. See my last entry for an example of what extreme anxiety looks like when coupled with crushing boredom. I made so many laps around that van that I swear I wore the pavement thinner. I'm pretty sure I gripped that machine gun so hard that I left permanent imprints of my hands on it.
I had Princess and Sage up scouting the area, switching them between auto and guided and trying to keep up a perimeter scan. I've been working on them. I installed that smokescreen in Sage last week and that sonic disruptor in Princess. Let's just say that it paid dividends. Princess kept the Lost at bay for hours. Things went as they went and I'll get to that soon, but I really think there's something to this approach: I kept almost a dozen Lost from coming anywhere near me just by hitting them with a constant, subtle unpleasant sound whenever they got too close. For five hours, none even entered visual range.
Long story short, two got through... when it was night, because that's scarier and sometimes I feel like my life is a bad slasher flick or someone's cruel joke. I used to have a rule about always always always finding a safe place to hide when it got dark if I was out in the ruins. I was kind of tied to the van, though, and I'm still working on hand controls so I can actually drive it. I'd rather be outside, armed, and mobile than passively waiting in a claustrophobic space.
The first thing I saw were their red eyes. The fuckers were big and one of them had these horror movie claws. No subtlety, no fucks given: he just came straight at me. In the walking days, I'd have run, but I think I'm just going to have to get used to being braver now. I can handle myself. I had Princess flash blind him and I lit his ass up. The recoil sent me rolling backwards, I reached down, half-turned, and hit the second one who'd dodged the flash and was coming at me from the side.
The feeling when you miss a kill shot and this thing that can tear you apart is only a few yards away... Terror doesn't describe it. Dear Scruffles, I sometimes wonder if I'm just wired wrong. I'm this squishy little sack of meat and bones and yet... I'm just gonna say it: I haven't felt so alive in years. The adrenaline rush was amazing. I had Sage drop a smokescreen. I bolted for the back of the van and I swear I missed a crack in the pavement that would've made me faceplant by maybe an inch. Switched to infrared, watched the Lost bumble around in the murk - lost - and took aim. Ugly bastards might not use their brains, but they still need 'em. Right through the eyeball, fuck you very much. Rolled up to both Lost and double-tapped 'em. Brought out Mountain Man and had him snip their heads off to keep them from reconstituting anytime soon. Had him snap a couple of pics of me gloating too. As an aside, definitely going to wear that top again. Comfy, warm, flattering, and now it has badass bloodstains.
The team was impressed when they came back about an hour later. At least, I think they were. Maybe they'll let me have another crack at this sometime, as long as I avoid the cobble. I think I showed them that I wasn't just a liability. Maybe I showed me too. I'm still giddy as I write this. I have so many ideas for Sage and Princess and what I can do with them. Anyway, we scrounged up some plywood and enough green paint for a ping-pong table and it should almost be done drying. I think I'll go check that out and burn off some energy! 'Til next time,
Lys.
April 3, 2056 - 01:30oo
| stuff | stuff |
|---|---|
 | Dear Scruffles, Happy Easter. I'm sick. I know it's not just me. I'm sure it isn't. It can't be, right? Frickin' revenants and their cast iron stomachs. Long story short, Poppy scares me a bit. I cover it up with all the snark and bravado I can muster, but seriously, you don't say 'no' to the lady! She cooked us a 'feast' and those quotation marks are doing some work, let me tell you. I did the polite thing because she seemed so enthusiastic and I ate the 'food' she prepared. |
Anyways, to make up for my absence, I referred to Pops as a 'Master Chef' when I returned, told her that her cooking was 'totally killer', and took a picture and even extras of her 'carrot cake' so that she wouldn't feel offended. Crisis averted but a new one created: it's sitting on my nightstand as I write, a general hazard to any living thing within a fifty yard radius. I'd foist that biohazard off on some poor soul, but fortunately or unfortunately, I don't have anyone in the world I hate that much. I might've said Ajax at some point, but I kind of get him now, and he was the only one with the cajones to tell Poppy the truth. He was so deadpan about it too. God, I had to stop myself from giggling like a schoolgirl... mostly because it probably would've made me puke again.
You know what? I just had a brainwave! We have rats... and roaches. I think it's time to try a little experiment. It's late, the others are sleeping, and I don't make any loud footsteps. Wish me luck!
Lys.
February 20, 2057 - 19:30oo
| stuff | stuff |
|---|---|
 | Dear Scruffles, We got a new guy today. He's hot and he's an idiot. I don't know what to think. I'm trying harder to be friendly these days. People who know me say I'm unapproachable. So, I offered to help. Nonexistent God, why did I offer to help? Maybe I could tell myself it was because that was my junk room that he moved into, but I fricking put on makeup, so yeah. |
First test passed. So far so good, right? I might've tucked some hair behind an ear. I let him use me as a shopping cart. Those forearms: *chef's kiss*. I went out of the room to dump another load of cans to be melted down in the storage room and a few might've fallen off my lap as I went. I was going to bring in Iron Horse to use as a second cart, but I goofed and called up Sage Junior... on autopilot.
Long story short, there was a yelp and a crash and, by the time I'd turned around, it was just like that scene in Megamind (yes, obscure pre-collapse movie chalked full of awesome) where all of the cute helpful little drones get crunched by the big evil galoot. And Vincent's excuse? "This was yours? Goddamn, I thought it was some kind of bee or Lost! ...Or a Lost bee..."
"Fucking...Megamind," I hissed, with little to no context, at which he gave me a perplexed look. "Megamind?"
Sage Junior. RIP (Rust in Pieces). You were so new and shiny and cute and... seriously? "A Lost bee..." Jokes lamer than my legs. I'd say it's nice not being the only disabled one in the commune anymore, but I can't even deal. I just can't. All beauty, but not even two goddamned brain cells to rub together. I shall call you 'Megamind' from now on and the irony will get me through my days. Goddammit! Gonna go outside and fling some arrows at some targets to cool down. Signing off for now,
Lys.
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January 14th, 2057
So... damn... thirsty. Dallas was overwhelmed by exhaustion as he planted himself on the dusty pavement. He reached into the pockets of his fire resistant jacket and pulled out a red crystal. The glassy jewel was molded into the shape of a tear drop. It was a blood bead. His last blood bead. Dallas didn't want to consume it, but his endurance had been pushed to the limits. Another day without a meal and he might lose himself to the frenzy.
Dallas removed his mask and brought the end of the blood bead to his lips. He drank greedily. It only took seconds for the bead to be emptied of its contents. He tilted his head back and let the final drops pass his lips before tossing the vial away. His heart rate accelerated instantly, sending the life giving liquid to every cell in his body. Strength returned to his limbs as the BOR parasite in Dallas's body left starvation mode. For a couple more weeks, he could be a man, not a monster.
I've been following the road for days now. I was lucky to find a big city like this, but I still can't locate the mistle. Dallas leaned back on his hands and tried to bury the anxiety creeping into the back of his mind, instead focusing on recuperating. The wanderer had been walking nonstop without rest or sleep while stretching his rations to the limit.
Dallas turned his head right and left, observing his immediate surroundings. It was a two way street with a wall of buildings on either side. Several abandoned cars and unidentifiable wrecks littered the street. There was even a sedan that had somehow managed to land perfectly on its nose, hinting at the chaotic events that took place here long ago. Across from the curb he was sitting on he could see various businesses, long deserted by their former owners. There was a shoe store, a souvenir shop, and even a restaurant. Happy Takeout was the name, or at least that's what Dallas inferred based on what letters hadn't fallen off the storefront. The structures here looked old. The brickwork didn't match up with the architecture closer to the city limits. Dallas assumed this must then be the inner city, where what used to be a small town began to grow into the concrete jungle it was now.
After a few minutes, Dallas was ready to resume traveling. He picked his battle axe up off the ground and secured his mask in place over his mouth. He had no intention of investigating any of the businesses here. Whatever goods that weren't taken in the chaos of the Collapse would have been looted by survivors or eroded by time. Dallas looked up at the small belt of sky that could be viewed between the towering city structures. It was a crisp blue, with a few cotton balls floating on the wind. The weather was favorable, though a biting wind occasionally raised goosebumps on Dallas's skin.
Without warning, a dull buzzing noise broke the silence. Dallas, alerted to a potential threat, raised his axe in preparation for an attack. His eyes darted all over the place, attempting to lock onto anything that moved. Wait, what's that?
It should have been hard to spot clearly at the height it was flying, but Dallas's revenant senses allowed him to comprehend the shape of the unidentified object. Speeding overhead was a quad copter drone the size of a dish plate. As it passed through the area, pieces of paper were ejected from a box shaped receptacle that had been bolted to it ad hoc. The drone quickly turned a corner further down the street, disappearing from sight as it followed the route designed by its operator.
Then, there was another sound in the distance. Footsteps. Several of them. Along with the sound came a faint smell carried by the wind. It was a scent that was both nauseating and intoxicating, a contradictory odor that made Dallas's nose tingle. He smelled the blood of the dead.
The Lost are coming. Dallas had no time to think about his next move. With no way of knowing how many enemies were approaching, he instead chose to evade. He dove into an abandoned cafe, stepping over toppled chairs and overturned tables until he reached the back of the shop. Once behind the counter, he crouched down until he could just barely see over the countertop.
After a few minutes, a pack of Lost rushed down the street, howling and screeching as they passed through. The humanoid creatures all appeared to be armed. If he'd chosen to confront them, Dallas would have put himself in a dangerous position. Prolonged fasting was chipping away at his energy, and he didn't want to waste it here. Dallas deduced that the monsters were following the drone, who were attracted either by its noise or motion. Though the Lost moved at great speed, he still waited a few minutes more before leaving his hiding spot. Now that he was upwind of their pack, he didn't want his smell to bring them back here.
As Dallas began to move away from the area, he saw a piece of paper floating towards him. He effortlessly plucked it out of the air and examined it.
These are... directions to a safehouse. By pure coincidence, Dallas was standing at one of the main cross streets listed on the leaflet. The author of the missive promised food and shelter to anyone in the city seeking asylum. There were childish drawings all along the unused borders, presumably done in crayon before the message was scanned and copied. There was a telescope, various flowers, and even faces of people drawn in a flat cartoonish style. They're not asking for humans specifically. This probably isn't a trap set up by revenants. Probably. I bet I can outrun them if it turns out to be trouble.
It took several hours for Dallas to crawl back out of the inner city and make his way towards the outskirts. The urban hub was crawling with Lost, and there was a lot of looping around and backtracking as he struggled to find the correct streets and landmarks written on the drone's message. The sun began its slow descent as the day progressed into the late afternoon. Dallas was now on the final road. He followed the path with his eyes and spotted a sizeable complex sitting atop a hill. The message described it as a place called the "Crow's Nest". It was an observatory now being used as a base by a mixed group of humans, revenants, and even sidhe. Sidhe! Dallas had never seen one face to face before.
With only his feet to carry him, it took some time for Dallas to make his way up the hill. His slow pace had nothing to do with fatigue however. He just wanted to be careful. Out here, the dull colors of the city gave way to a sea of green. Wildflowers swayed in the breeze while basking in the sun. Weeds sprung up in the cracks of the black asphalt underneath Dallas's feet. The lack of cover made him feel exposed as he got closer to the safehouse.
In order to crest the hill, Dallas had to first cross a river down below by walking across a small stone bridge. The moment his feet left that bridge, he felt something bump his shoulder. Dallas spun around to find a revenant standing before him. Somehow, he had been snuck up on. Whoever this man was, he had managed to get behind Dallas while making no sound and without being spotted on an open hillside. This was somebody dangerous, and Dallas felt a bit intimidated.
To describe him in a single sentence: tall, dark and handsome. His hair stuck up wildly like the fur of an angry predator. The revenant didn't move for several seconds. He just stared at Dallas's face. In the brief moment before either of them spoke, Dallas noted the stranger's flashy overcoat and the handles of blades hidden within.
"You're welcome here, but don't try anything." The unnamed revenant finally said. He seemed satisfied with something, but Dallas didn't know what. He gestured for Dallas to keep walking. As he did so, Dallas heard the man following close behind. Whoever these people were, they must have sent the strong one to keep an eye on him.
They proceeded into the observatory without incident.
"...told you the fliers would work! I saw him coming a mile away on the motion sensors!" Inside the "Great Room" were two individuals having an animated discussion, a man and a woman. The man had the complexion of a bronze statue and stood a bit taller than either Dallas or "Ajax", as his escort called himself. The woman was fairer skinned and had hair down to her shoulders. Surprisingly, she was bound to a wheelchair. Revenants didn't have disabilities, so this one was human.
As he and Ajax got closer to these two, Dallas glanced around the room. It definitely looked like a converted observatory. There was plenty of furniture and appliances around the space, and it was all arranged as tastefully as possible, but the shape of the room itself clearly wasn't intended for habitation. There were couches, tables, and even a kitchen and dining area.
"Haha, alright Lys. You won the bet. By the by, it looks like our guest is here. Show him in Ajax!" Dallas and Ajax approached the two, but before Dallas could get too close his bodyguard put a hand on his shoulder to prevent him from getting too close. The snowy haired man raised an eyebrow like he was trying to communicate something to Ajax. The two must have been on the same wavelength; Ajax wordlessly released his hold. Was this one the leader then?
"Thanks for the concern there partner. Anyways, nice to meet you new guy! My name is Erik. Don't bother calling me Mister." Erik closed the gap and offered a hand to Dallas, who firmly grasped it in a strong handshake. "Good to meet you. People call me Dallas."
The chairbound woman behind Erik cleared her throat. "Whoops! Let me introduce Lysandra. She's the one dropping fliers on people's heads." "Don't talk about me like I'm a serial litterer!" Lysandra rolled up and shook Dallas's hand as well.
"You can call me Lys there, big guy; the Commune's resident tech specialist. You helped me win a bet, so consider yourself good in my books." For a moment, her face softened with a smile. "Freaking nice to see the drones brought a new face here too. I wasn't sure it was gonna work." Dallas released her hand and tapped his head with his knuckles. "Yeah, they also brought a gang of Lost down on me. Can't you make 'em quieter?" At that, Lysandra made a look that fell between "Oh shit!" and "You dare question my intellect?". She rested her hands on her lap and furrowed her brow before releasing a sigh. "They did huh?" Lysandra chewed her bottom lip. "Shit, sorry about that. I'll... make some improvements." After speaking her part, Lysandra rolled off to another part of the base that needed her attention. "Glad you're alive though!
"Alright, this isn't a job interview so let's cut to the chase Dallas. We are a group of what you might call vigilantes. We are the Commune. What we want is to bring peace back to this region and end the threat posed by the Lost. Our goals aren't very complicated, but we need manpower. The number of enemies keeps growing and we could use a fighter like you. We're ready to take care of you if you're willing to lend us your strength. Interested?" "If you'll have me." Erik nodded. He turned his gaze to Ajax, who was leaned against a wall to listen to the conversation.
"I have no objections." Ajax closed his eyes, signalling the end of his input. Erik grinned at that. Turning back to Dallas, he continued speaking. "This isn't the army, nor is it the provisional government. We're not just trading food for labor, we're trying to build relationships with people. If you stay here, we're gonna treat you like family, and we'd like you to do the same." Erik clapped a hand on Dallas's shoulder. "We watch your back, you watch ours. How's that sound?"
Dallas thought about what he was committing to here, but deep down he felt like his decision had already been made. It was fascinating to see humans working as equals with revenants here, rather than being protected like cattle. There was also something beyond that. In his wanderings he had joined hands with many groups like Erik's, but those were just temporary arrangements made in exchange for food and shelter. There was a compelling quality about this Crow's Nest, an element that made it feel like a home that Dallas had forgotten. He'd made up his mind.
"I'll protect you with my life."
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Force and Fury Actually kind of mellow
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Lysandra Tran's Comprehensive Catalogue of Lost Variants™
Low Level Enemies
Grimes
Greenlights: Either non-human derived or so devolved as to be completely unrecognizable, these aren't very common. A sickly green colour, they tend to cluster in dark and damp areas, often hanging and oozing. They're fond of trying to drop down on you, but they're extremely slow, have low health, and hit like a wet noodle by swishing their tongues back and forth. The only real danger is that they're poisonous. Contact with skin can cause a painful, burning rash while ingestion or contact with blood can lead to a furious stinging, itching sensation that can last for up to a day.
Danger Rating: ★
Researcher's Note: These things are really weak. I've literally backed over one and splattered it with my wheels. I'm thinking of keeping one as a pet, to be honest. Not sure if it can be trained, though. That itch is really nasty.
Danger Rating: ★
Researcher's Note: These things are really weak. I've literally backed over one and splattered it with my wheels. I'm thinking of keeping one as a pet, to be honest. Not sure if it can be trained, though. That itch is really nasty.
Mello Yellos: Either non-human derived or so devolved as to be completely unrecognizable, these aren't especially common. A sickly yellow colour, they tend to cluster in damp areas with partial sunlight, often hanging and oozing. They're fond of trying to drop down on you, but they're extremely slow, have low health, and hit like a wet noodle by swishing their tongues back and forth. The main danger is their particular type of poison. It attacks the nervous system with chemical inhibitors that slow the transmission of signals, leading to lessened reaction time and a sort of false lethargy. When under attack, they can also bubble up once and 'splat' forward about a foot with surprising quickness.
Danger Rating: ★★
Researcher's Note: interestingly, the effect of their poison seems to bypass the bloodstream and travel through the nerves directly. I've tested this on myself. When I allowed a captive specimen to strike my legs, there was no effect on the rest of my body. Its progress was stopped at the site of my injury. Had it traveled through my bloodstream, this would've been irrelevant. When I let it contact my arms, however, the spread of its lethargy was universal and almost immediate.
Danger Rating: ★★
Researcher's Note: interestingly, the effect of their poison seems to bypass the bloodstream and travel through the nerves directly. I've tested this on myself. When I allowed a captive specimen to strike my legs, there was no effect on the rest of my body. Its progress was stopped at the site of my injury. Had it traveled through my bloodstream, this would've been irrelevant. When I let it contact my arms, however, the spread of its lethargy was universal and almost immediate.
Carrot Cakes: Either non-human derived or so devolved as to be completely unrecognizable, these aren't very common. A muted orange colour, they tend to cluster in dark and moldy areas, often hanging and oozing. They're fond of trying to drop down on you, but they're extremely slow, have low health, and usually hit like a wet noodle by swishing their tongues back and forth. Like other Grimes, they have a particular type of poison. Skin contact causes swelling and a dull ache, but their real goal is ingestion. Carrot Cakes bubble and send sprays of spittle into the air. Contact with the bloodstream or ingestion can lead to near-immediate and violent nausea. These are best dealt with from a distance.
Danger Rating: ★
Researcher's Note: These things stink! It's a sickly sweet kind of smell and it lingers. Wear your mask around Carrot Cakes, humans, and honestly, just let the revenants handle them. Revenants, don't eat before a mission!
Danger Rating: ★
Researcher's Note: These things stink! It's a sickly sweet kind of smell and it lingers. Wear your mask around Carrot Cakes, humans, and honestly, just let the revenants handle them. Revenants, don't eat before a mission!
BRB (Big Red Bastards): Either non-human derived or so devolved as to be completely unrecognizable, these are only moderately common. A deep, sanguine red, they tend to cluster in dark and musty areas, often hanging and oozing. They're a good deal larger than their green, yellow, and orange cousins and aren't as fond of trying to drop down on you. Instead, they like to congregate around and occupy chokepoints. They're still extremely slow, but noticeably tougher than lesser grimes, and a smack from their tongues is heavy-hitting can be quite an unpleasant experience. Contact with one produces an immediate, blistering burn and is best avoided. They'll also try to lob little splatters of goo at you, but this is pretty telegraphed. Dodge it.
Danger Rating: ★★
Researcher's Note: I've been knocked clean out of my wheelchair by one and sent sprawling. Any physically competent individual should be able to dodge these, however, unless swarmed (which can happen - be careful - they travel in packs!)
Danger Rating: ★★
Researcher's Note: I've been knocked clean out of my wheelchair by one and sent sprawling. Any physically competent individual should be able to dodge these, however, unless swarmed (which can happen - be careful - they travel in packs!)
Purple Nurples: Either non-human derived or so devolved as to be completely unrecognizable, these are moderately common at best. A dusky purple colour, they tend to cluster in dark areas, often in tunnels or long straightaways, often hanging and oozing. Sometimes, they'll try to drop down on you, but they're quite slow, have only moderate health, and prefer other methods of attack over the "swish tongue back and forth" approach. These guys tend to hunt in packs and lob gobs of goo at you from a distance that splatter upon landing. These are mildly corrosive and contact with skin not only leaves a temporary burn, it also stimulates pain receptors, causing excruciating localized pain that can be crippling in the short term. Ingestion is... not recommended. It can lead to unconsciousness and seizures.
Danger Rating: ★★★
Researcher's Note: their range is nothing to write home about. I've out-sniped them before, but they're rough on melee types. They're also skittish and won't attack unless they think they can succeed. A note of caution, keep their numbers down if you can, because they will swarm!
Danger Rating: ★★★
Researcher's Note: their range is nothing to write home about. I've out-sniped them before, but they're rough on melee types. They're also skittish and won't attack unless they think they can succeed. A note of caution, keep their numbers down if you can, because they will swarm!
Blue Meanies: Either non-human derived or so devolved as to be completely unrecognizable, these are quite rare. Great dark blue hulks that seem to absorb the light, they tend to lurk in cool and dark areas, often in alcoves or under a thin layer of debris. They're fond of trying to ambush you, oozing up unexpectedly, and they're a bit faster than other grimes, have more health, and can hit a good deal harder by smacking you with their full weight. Their poison is nothing to write home about (a very mild adhesive and corrosive), but the buggers are strong and resilient. They can absorb and ingest you if you're not careful. It's best to use decoys in areas where they're common, to lure them out and take them down from range.
Danger Rating: ★★★
Researcher's Note: "faster, tougher, and harder hitting" here are still relative. An experienced revenant with good armour and weaponry should still be able to deal with these one-on-one without too much trouble.
Danger Rating: ★★★
Researcher's Note: "faster, tougher, and harder hitting" here are still relative. An experienced revenant with good armour and weaponry should still be able to deal with these one-on-one without too much trouble.
Kaboom Boxes: Either non-human derived or so devolved as to be completely unrecognizable, these are somewhat uncommon. A matte, faintly metallic black and noticeably angular, they tend to cluster in dark and dry areas, often seeming completely inert until they sense potential prey approach. They're excruciatingly slow, have low health, and hit like a wet noodle by bumping into you, but that's not their main hunting method. They'll begin to glow faintly before exploding, and these explosions can be very dangerous and even fatal, especially if a cluster goes off all at once. They detonate, reform, and then feed on the scraps of their prey's body that remain.
Danger Rating: ★★
Researcher's Note: These are very dangerous if you're dumb and only if you're dumb. Take them out from a distance, throw them, dash through quickly (and carefully), or use decoys. Just don't go stomping on them. They'll still blow and, even if it's not as bad, it'll still cause considerable injury. Seriously, though, I've never suffered so much as a scrape from a Kaboom Box.
Danger Rating: ★★
Researcher's Note: These are very dangerous if you're dumb and only if you're dumb. Take them out from a distance, throw them, dash through quickly (and carefully), or use decoys. Just don't go stomping on them. They'll still blow and, even if it's not as bad, it'll still cause considerable injury. Seriously, though, I've never suffered so much as a scrape from a Kaboom Box.
Tsar Bombas: Either non-human derived or so devolved as to be completely unrecognizable, these are extremely rare. Towering, glossy silver-white hulks, they tend to appear solo in cold, bright areas, often seeming completely inert until they sense potential prey approach. Tsar Bombas are slow, but they're huge, and this size proves an obstacle to defeating them, as they can absorb most traditional projectiles without being ruptured and bladed weapons struggle to cut far enough into their bulk to deal significant damage.
Attacks: Offensively, Tsar Bombas are powerhouses. Though slow, even one swat from them can be bone-crushing and they're also capable of forming temporary appendages in sharp shapes and lashing out with these. Be careful! A Tsar Bomba can impale you. They're not limited to melee range either, as they also release clouds of a scratchy sort of powder that doubles as a smokescreen and weapon. Breathing it in can dehydrate you quickly, make your eyes water and itch uncontrollably, and cause your throat to constrict. Finally, if sensing that it is outmatched, a Tsar Bomba will go still and begin to glow. There is only one response to this: run for your lives. The explosive force that these things can generate is truly awesome. The larger ones are capable of leveling a city block.
Danger Rating: ★★★★★★🕱 (boss)
Researcher's Note: There's no exact science to it, but you've usually got about thirty seconds to clear the area from the time that a Tsar Bomba starts to glow until it detonates. I've never run so fast in my life as the time when I encountered one.
Attacks: Offensively, Tsar Bombas are powerhouses. Though slow, even one swat from them can be bone-crushing and they're also capable of forming temporary appendages in sharp shapes and lashing out with these. Be careful! A Tsar Bomba can impale you. They're not limited to melee range either, as they also release clouds of a scratchy sort of powder that doubles as a smokescreen and weapon. Breathing it in can dehydrate you quickly, make your eyes water and itch uncontrollably, and cause your throat to constrict. Finally, if sensing that it is outmatched, a Tsar Bomba will go still and begin to glow. There is only one response to this: run for your lives. The explosive force that these things can generate is truly awesome. The larger ones are capable of leveling a city block.
Danger Rating: ★★★★★★🕱 (boss)
Researcher's Note: There's no exact science to it, but you've usually got about thirty seconds to clear the area from the time that a Tsar Bomba starts to glow until it detonates. I've never run so fast in my life as the time when I encountered one.
Thralls
Loser Thralls: Clearly human-based, Thralls are the weakest of this morph of enemy, possessing - as one might expect - little free will or complex thought. They are completely slaves to their hunger and instinct. In many cases, this are the result of weaker or recent revenants losing the battle against their endless thirst. Generally speaking, these guys aren't much more dangerous or durable than a strong human. In the case of Loser Thralls in particular, their weakness is exacerbated by their lack of weaponry. They have only their four limbs and bite to do damage with, often also possessing subpar hand-eye coordination and balance, compounded by their nonexistent intelligence. Given the right opportunity, one of these can still kill a human or even a revenant with their bare hands and teeth, but you have to be unusually weak, stupid, unarmed, or unlucky to let that happen.
Danger Rating: ★
Researcher's Note: These are pretty much your classic 'runner' zombies, only, they aren't zombies per se. A solid headshot or centre-of-mass shot with most projectile weapons should deal with them, or a stab/slash to the vital organs. Sometimes, they look very humanlike, though, and it can be disturbing to deal with that.
Danger Rating: ★
Researcher's Note: These are pretty much your classic 'runner' zombies, only, they aren't zombies per se. A solid headshot or centre-of-mass shot with most projectile weapons should deal with them, or a stab/slash to the vital organs. Sometimes, they look very humanlike, though, and it can be disturbing to deal with that.
Lumberjack Thralls: Clearly human-based, Thralls are the weakest of this morph of enemy, possessing - as one might expect - little free will or complex thought. They are completely slaves to their hunger and instinct. In many cases, this are the result of weaker or recent revenants losing the battle against their endless thirst. Generally speaking, these guys aren't much more dangerous or durable than a strong human. In the case of Lumberjack Thralls, they seem to have last wielded axes before losing their reason, so these are their weapons of choice. It is a poor choice, as their lack of fine control, tendency to overbalance, poor reflexes, and unreliable aim cause them to be easy to counter. The axe can still kill you, of course, but you can usually see their swings coming from a mile away, and they leave themselves very open to being countered.
Danger Rating: ★★
Researcher's Note: They swing hard, but it's incredibly telegraphed, and they tend to overbalance badly. I've dodged one in my wheelchair. That's the standard that we're looking at here. Just don't get caught by a mob of them and you'll be okay. Of course, sometimes, when they mob, they accidentally hit each other...
Danger Rating: ★★
Researcher's Note: They swing hard, but it's incredibly telegraphed, and they tend to overbalance badly. I've dodged one in my wheelchair. That's the standard that we're looking at here. Just don't get caught by a mob of them and you'll be okay. Of course, sometimes, when they mob, they accidentally hit each other...
Edgelord Thralls: Clearly human-based, Thralls are the weakest of this morph of enemy, possessing - as one might expect - little free will or complex thought. They are completely slaves to their hunger and instinct. In many cases, this are the result of weaker or recent revenants losing the battle against their endless thirst. Generally speaking, these guys aren't much more dangerous or durable than a strong human. In the case of Edgelord Thralls, they seem to have last wielded swords before losing their reason, so these are their weapons of choice. It is a mediocre choice, as their lack of fine control, poor reflexes, and unreliable aim cause them to often hit with the flat of their blades, struggle to stab, and be easy to counter. The sword can still kill you, of course, and has more cutting surface and less tendency to overbalance them that the axes of Lumberjacks do, but you can still usually see their swings coming quite easily, and they still leave themselves very open to being countered.
Danger Rating: ★★
Researcher's Note: They often drag their swords while walking, kicking up sparks and dulling the blades. If you see recent looking scratches on pavement or furrows in softer ground, it's almost always a sign that Edgelords are about. Like many other thralls, they tend to mob and sometimes strike each other when in a frenzy. Avoid getting caught in the middle of a group and you should be able to pick them off pretty easily, however.
Danger Rating: ★★
Researcher's Note: They often drag their swords while walking, kicking up sparks and dulling the blades. If you see recent looking scratches on pavement or furrows in softer ground, it's almost always a sign that Edgelords are about. Like many other thralls, they tend to mob and sometimes strike each other when in a frenzy. Avoid getting caught in the middle of a group and you should be able to pick them off pretty easily, however.
Marksman Thralls: Clearly human-based, Thralls are the weakest of this morph of enemy, possessing - as one might expect - little free will or complex thought. They are completely slaves to their hunger and instinct. In many cases, this are the result of weaker or recent revenants losing the battle against their endless thirst. Generally speaking, these guys aren't much more dangerous or durable than a strong human. In the case of Marksman Thralls, they seem to have last wielded rifles before losing their reason, so these are their weapons of choice. It is an incredibly poor choice, as the guns are almost always out of bullets and, in any case, their lack of fine muscular control, impulse control, and unreliable aim cause them to be totally ineffective. Some of the guns have bayonets, and these can be a pain, but the thralls' telegraphed stabs are easy to sidestep and leave them open to being countered. Of course, those that don't have bayonets just kind of smack or poke you with their guns while roaring.
Danger Rating: ★★
Researcher's Note: I have seen one properly fire a gun perhaps twice ever, and I have seen hundreds of these things over the years. Still, it pays to vigilant. Get in close and maul them as they do not let go of their weapons. Also, they tend to cluster, like other thralls. A well-placed pitfall trap or incendiary can take out a half-dozen. I know. I've done it.
Danger Rating: ★★
Researcher's Note: I have seen one properly fire a gun perhaps twice ever, and I have seen hundreds of these things over the years. Still, it pays to vigilant. Get in close and maul them as they do not let go of their weapons. Also, they tend to cluster, like other thralls. A well-placed pitfall trap or incendiary can take out a half-dozen. I know. I've done it.
Kruger Thralls: Clearly human-based, Thralls are the weakest of this morph of enemy, possessing - as one might expect - little free will or complex thought. They are completely slaves to their hunger and instinct. In many cases, this are the result of weaker or recent revenants losing the battle against their endless thirst. Generally speaking, these guys aren't much more durable than a strong human. In the case of Kruger Thralls, however, they seem to have either grown or acquired long, sharp, horror movie-style claws since losing their reason. Though this leaves them with little range or offensive weaponry, they attack with extreme ferocity and recover faster from their wild swings than other Thralls. Do not count on them to leave many openings and do not rely on them telegraphing their attacks. Exploit their lack of range and predictable behaviour instead. Those claws aren't quite as deadly as a sword or an axe, but they're more likely to hit you unless you're focused and careful.
Danger Rating: ★★★
Researcher's Note: They tend to move in pairs and they seem a little bit quicker and more durable than most other Thralls. Double tap them. They're weak and stupid, but unpredictable, so keep your range if you have it and you should be fine.
Danger Rating: ★★★
Researcher's Note: They tend to move in pairs and they seem a little bit quicker and more durable than most other Thralls. Double tap them. They're weak and stupid, but unpredictable, so keep your range if you have it and you should be fine.
Winged Thralls: Clearly human-based, Thralls are the weakest of this morph of enemy, possessing - as one might expect - little free will or complex thought. They are completely slaves to their hunger and instinct. In many cases, this are the result of weaker or recent revenants losing the battle against their endless thirst. Winged Thralls, however, are the strongest of the lot by a considerable margin. Though their wings are fragile and the struggle to fly in complex patterns or for long distances, they're tough overall, can move in three dimensions, and can close in quickly. In many cases, they also carry shields. They use these more to bash than to block, but it also means that taking one down requires a bit more aim and thinking. Their secondary weapon of choice varies, but is usually a short sword or axe. The shield leaves them less vulnerable when they inevitably miss a swing, so don't rely on easy counters. Go for the weapon-wielding arm or feint them. Just, be careful. These guys aren't soft touches despite technically being Thralls.
Danger Rating: ★★★★
Researcher's Note: They seem a bit more tactical than other Thralls too, though that's very relative. If they have one easy exploit, it's that they only ever seem to swing their weapons vertically, and will never block low. If you have range and can take out the legs, then do it. They're useless without legs... right?
Danger Rating: ★★★★
Researcher's Note: They seem a bit more tactical than other Thralls too, though that's very relative. If they have one easy exploit, it's that they only ever seem to swing their weapons vertically, and will never block low. If you have range and can take out the legs, then do it. They're useless without legs... right?
Moderate Level Enemies
Tentacles (Tents)
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DELETED08740
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2 days ago
Hjello! I just saw the IC post and thought this would be mighty interesting. Is there a Discord channel for the RP?
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coGM
Hjello! I just saw the IC post and thought this would be mighty interesting. Is there a Discord channel for the RP?
Hi there! There is but unfortunately the Discord link will only be provided after accepting your character into the roleplay. You are free to dm Dreamingflowers and me here or on discord. As of right now, I will be much faster at replying to you
FunnyGuy - Discord handle: MIKE#8954
Dreamingflowers - Discord handle: Dreamingflowers#4466
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Khryptid Autistic as Hell
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2 mos ago
hi everyone, i'm khosmik, nice to meet y'all, um, exit told me about this group and i thought it'd be pretty cool to try out! I haven't rped with a large group in a while, but I have alot of spots open so I'm confident I have the time to put into a thing like this. I don't have any knowledge of this game but it seems like a super dope concept and I'm super excited to see if I can pop in here! :3
Alrighty, here goes nothing!
| AGE |
| APPEARANCE |
| PERSONALITY |
| BLOOD TYPE |
| BACKGROUND |
| SKILLS / EQUIPMENT |
| LIMITATIONS AND WEAKNESSES |
| NOTES |
Alrighty, here goes nothing!
I N D I G O
| AGE |
-24 when passed, woke up as a revanant about 3 years later.
| APPEARANCE |
Tall & Lanky- No, seriously. Indigo stands at 6'5, built like they barely ate in their life, a stark contrast to their physical prowess.
Androgynous- Gender roles don't pertain to Indigo, nor do gender-specific appearances.
The Physical- Their hair is a mop of black with a birthmark on their scalp that turns a chunk of it white-blonde. Their eyes are a storm of greys and blues that tend to give off the appearance that they have the eyes of a corpse, fittingly so, being that they were one for a while. Their skin is pallid and almost sickly-pale. They have long limbs, long fingers, and good posture.
A Punk in their Past Life- Indigo prefers grungy clothing with rips and tears. Their casual outfit consists of these, though it's hard to tell which rips were on purpose and which tears were simply from being a homeless vagrant for a long period of time. Their mission attire consists of a homemade "battle-jacket" that is covered in random patches, tears, chains, spikes, and the like. Black pants are the staple for Indigo most of the time, whether on a mission or just casual. Another constant in their wardrobe is their large, scary-looking combat boots that they woke up with, also black and scuffed from assumedly years of use and abuse.
Ink & Metal- Indigo has tattoos all over their body, except their face. There is still space to be able to see the pale skin that sits below, but they have a significant amount of ink on them. Their piercings consist of; two bars through their tongue, a medusa that sits on their cupid's bow, a ring in the middle of their bottom lip, and a bar through their bridge. Their chest has also been pierced, but those are often not visible thanks to their loose shirts. Their ears are gauged to just over a half-inch, with four more piercings on each ear, some in cartilage, some in the lobe.
Androgynous- Gender roles don't pertain to Indigo, nor do gender-specific appearances.
The Physical- Their hair is a mop of black with a birthmark on their scalp that turns a chunk of it white-blonde. Their eyes are a storm of greys and blues that tend to give off the appearance that they have the eyes of a corpse, fittingly so, being that they were one for a while. Their skin is pallid and almost sickly-pale. They have long limbs, long fingers, and good posture.
A Punk in their Past Life- Indigo prefers grungy clothing with rips and tears. Their casual outfit consists of these, though it's hard to tell which rips were on purpose and which tears were simply from being a homeless vagrant for a long period of time. Their mission attire consists of a homemade "battle-jacket" that is covered in random patches, tears, chains, spikes, and the like. Black pants are the staple for Indigo most of the time, whether on a mission or just casual. Another constant in their wardrobe is their large, scary-looking combat boots that they woke up with, also black and scuffed from assumedly years of use and abuse.
Ink & Metal- Indigo has tattoos all over their body, except their face. There is still space to be able to see the pale skin that sits below, but they have a significant amount of ink on them. Their piercings consist of; two bars through their tongue, a medusa that sits on their cupid's bow, a ring in the middle of their bottom lip, and a bar through their bridge. Their chest has also been pierced, but those are often not visible thanks to their loose shirts. Their ears are gauged to just over a half-inch, with four more piercings on each ear, some in cartilage, some in the lobe.
| PERSONALITY |
Inquisitive - Off-Kilter - A Bit Strange - Charming
Inquisitive- Indigo will be the first one to ask questions, even if it's not a question anyone else might have. Their brain craves information no matter if someone else sees it as useful or not. They are curious to a fault.
Off-Kilter- There's something off about Indigo, perhaps it's the fact that they manage to be socially awkward and charming at the same time., or how quickly they can change from that charming character to a feral beast. People in the world before the Collapse might've chalked it up to mental illness.
A Bit Strange- Can you blame them? Being alone for most of their previous and current life has done a number to the way they interact with the world and those who live in it. They mean to harm to anyone who has the same intentions for them, but might still leave an odd taste in the mouths of those who meet them.
"Something ain't quite right about that kid."
Charming- Indigo naturally is very kind and friendly to people who don't pose a threat to them, and will go out of their way to help with tasks, bond with people, and try their best to make anyone in their presence feel welcome. They know what it's like to be an outcast, and would rather not see someone else go through the same.
Inquisitive- Indigo will be the first one to ask questions, even if it's not a question anyone else might have. Their brain craves information no matter if someone else sees it as useful or not. They are curious to a fault.
Off-Kilter- There's something off about Indigo, perhaps it's the fact that they manage to be socially awkward and charming at the same time., or how quickly they can change from that charming character to a feral beast. People in the world before the Collapse might've chalked it up to mental illness.
A Bit Strange- Can you blame them? Being alone for most of their previous and current life has done a number to the way they interact with the world and those who live in it. They mean to harm to anyone who has the same intentions for them, but might still leave an odd taste in the mouths of those who meet them.
"Something ain't quite right about that kid."
Charming- Indigo naturally is very kind and friendly to people who don't pose a threat to them, and will go out of their way to help with tasks, bond with people, and try their best to make anyone in their presence feel welcome. They know what it's like to be an outcast, and would rather not see someone else go through the same.
| BLOOD TYPE |
AB+ - Indigo is incredibly strong, fast, and agile. They use their abilities to as much of their advantage as possible, even if it means harming themselves in the process.
Their energy colour is a UV purple, like a blacklight.
Their energy colour is a UV purple, like a blacklight.
| BACKGROUND |
Indigo cannot remember the troubled life they led before their awakening. Even if they could, they'd most likely prefer not to. They grew up in an absent household of inexperienced first-time parents that were in no way ready for a child. Never really getting enough care or nurturing, Indigo was exposed to the cold of the world before they knew how to process it correctly. They left their space early, a vagabond that traipsed through the abandoned streets carelessly. They hadn't a great sense of self-preservation, leading to their early but inevitable demise. (Hiding the rest for the story)
| SKILLS / EQUIPMENT |
Empty Handed- Indigo's main weapon is themselves. Due to their ferocity in battle, they prefer to rip apart their opponents with their bare hands. Their punches and kicks are fueled by their supernatural strength.
Throwing- They are also extremely adept at throwing blades. Their strength allows them to fling things, usually knives, through the air at terrifying speeds with incredible accuracy. Just about wherever you could possibly keep one, they have one hidden on their person.
The Zoomies- When they're not leading a frontal assault on an enemy, they're running around at impressive speeds, throwing knives or whatever objects they have, causing annoyances to help distract their targets and get them out of their element.
Movement & Acrobatics- They like the element of surprise it gives in their fights. The way they move about in battle is a bout of graceful chaos, a dance with no rhyme or reason other than a means to an end. They're well-versed in acrobatics, often parkouring to vantage points or simply for leisure and exertion of energy.
Achery- Indigo first learned how to use a bow and arrow, but lacks either of those on their person due to losing the items long ago while fleeing from an unfair fight.
Throwing- They are also extremely adept at throwing blades. Their strength allows them to fling things, usually knives, through the air at terrifying speeds with incredible accuracy. Just about wherever you could possibly keep one, they have one hidden on their person.
The Zoomies- When they're not leading a frontal assault on an enemy, they're running around at impressive speeds, throwing knives or whatever objects they have, causing annoyances to help distract their targets and get them out of their element.
Movement & Acrobatics- They like the element of surprise it gives in their fights. The way they move about in battle is a bout of graceful chaos, a dance with no rhyme or reason other than a means to an end. They're well-versed in acrobatics, often parkouring to vantage points or simply for leisure and exertion of energy.
Achery- Indigo first learned how to use a bow and arrow, but lacks either of those on their person due to losing the items long ago while fleeing from an unfair fight.
| LIMITATIONS AND WEAKNESSES |
Obliviously Observant- Though Indigo spends most of their time listening and absorbing information, due to their social ineptitude, they tend to completely oversee some more obvious things in conversations with others. When having to do things such as catch double-meanings and read between the lines, often Indigo will come up short and have no idea when something goes right over their head.
Over-exertion- Indigo tends to push themselves too far when it comes to their abilities, often lifting things far to heavy to the point where blood gushes from their nose. Their strength's limit reaches its peak at around the weight of a vehicle. Their stamina peak can fluctuate depending on the situation. If they're zooming for too long without giving themselves a chance to catch a breath, they'll often stop abruptly to throw up and/or collapse. They don't feel satisfied until they're sure they've done everything they can and they're trembling on the ground in a puddle of exhaustion.
Pride & Loyalty- They have a hell of a time backing down from a challenge, a weakness that lead to their downfall in their previous lifetime. They've associated fighting with blood, and so a Pavlovian response will often take over. Indigo is also loyal to a fault, and if they decide to attach themselves to a person or people, they will fight for those individuals until their head rolls.
Feral- Indigo takes all of their frustrations and pent-up emotions out in battle. They perk up at the sound of a fight, and often will be the first one to jump into one. They don't necessarily instigate, but their blood thirst doesn't assist with peaceful solutions. They crave the adrenaline rush that fighting gives them. It's hard to get them to stop once they've started.
Over-exertion- Indigo tends to push themselves too far when it comes to their abilities, often lifting things far to heavy to the point where blood gushes from their nose. Their strength's limit reaches its peak at around the weight of a vehicle. Their stamina peak can fluctuate depending on the situation. If they're zooming for too long without giving themselves a chance to catch a breath, they'll often stop abruptly to throw up and/or collapse. They don't feel satisfied until they're sure they've done everything they can and they're trembling on the ground in a puddle of exhaustion.
Pride & Loyalty- They have a hell of a time backing down from a challenge, a weakness that lead to their downfall in their previous lifetime. They've associated fighting with blood, and so a Pavlovian response will often take over. Indigo is also loyal to a fault, and if they decide to attach themselves to a person or people, they will fight for those individuals until their head rolls.
Feral- Indigo takes all of their frustrations and pent-up emotions out in battle. They perk up at the sound of a fight, and often will be the first one to jump into one. They don't necessarily instigate, but their blood thirst doesn't assist with peaceful solutions. They crave the adrenaline rush that fighting gives them. It's hard to get them to stop once they've started.
| NOTES |
Indigo is non-binary and uses they/them pronouns. They do not present as either masculine or feminine dominantly.
(Pic is going to be edited accordingly with the character's appearance)
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dreamingflowers
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