Chairman Stein

The last Survivors

Jackmier watched as Striker strolled up and leaned next to him, giving a crude remark on his less than redeemable partaking in morphine and ether. Jackmier was open about his drug and alcohol intake, there was no point in hiding it. However, despite his rising annoyance, he kept his cocky smirk. "Aye, a nice shot of morphine is something I haven't had in awhile, nor have you I take it." He shot back, giving a larger grin towards Striker before continuing. "And in my opinion, machines are just humans with oil for blood, if I can fix blood clots I can fix an engine."

He pushed himself off the Ambulance and began unbuttoning his grey pinstripe jacket, if he was going to work on the charred remains of the Ambulance's engine, he was certainly not scuffing up his attire. "If you all want to get to that little town, I highly recommend you start moving now while the sunlight is on our side. Plus maybe some quiet will give me the focus I need to fix this damned machine." He stated flatly as he removed his tie, placing it on the hood of the Ambulance with his jacket.

Upon looking into the innards of the Ambulance the charred rotting hand came right into view... It was beautiful, the ashy, jagged lines of destroyed flesh, the once separated fingers coming together through melting heat and fusing into a singular black entity. It was the inevitable decay of death, mixed with the fires of modern technology... Art forged in flame. He couldn't help but give a grin as he scanned the rest of the engine. "The engine itself is intact, it's mostly overheating due to the zed's hand taking in heat that would normally be leaving the engine. It'll take a few hours, but I can safely remove it and keep the engine together probably. Only issue is I'm not entirely sure if we even have a full toolbox at this point."

[RP Closed] Warlords of China

<Snipped quote by Chairman Stein>

Then how do you spread the glory of the people's revolution if you do? PMs and Tumblr posts? o.O

@ClocktowerEchos

Tumblr is petite-bourgeois liberalism. Send to gulag.

The last Survivors

So are we doing a post order or first come-first serve and the others will assume to act with the group until they post?

@CoCoTina

I presume it's a first come first serve basis. It would be more organized and probably easier to write if we did a post order however organizing such things can be a bit of a pain.

The last Survivors

Due to his 'esteemed' position on the Convoy, Jackmier drove the Ambulance. For the first few miles all was well and the outer D.C area rolled past without qualm or complaint...
*Bang*
With a start Jackmier dozed from his subconscious drive. Within seconds the road ahead began to vanish from sight and was replaced with a thick grey cloud, or in this case smoke. "Ah fick mich!" Jackmier groaned as he slammed his fist into the dashboard, this wasn't the first time one of the Convoy's engines went down, but it was never his engine. "Nein, nein, noch nicht. Noch nicht du verdammter drecksau!"

Jackmier pulled off from the Convoy just in time as the vehicle finally stalled and came to a halt. Looking out his rear-view mirror he could see the rest screech to a stop. Turning his view back towards the front, he watched Hunter step out from his Humvee and stomp his way down the column to the Ambulance. Without saying a word he watched Hunter pop the top and look down into the heart of the machine, his cursing was clear even through the metal and glass.

With a sigh Jackmier threw the door to the Ambulance open and hopped down from his seat and onto the road, giving an audible groan as he stretched and adjusted his sweat & bloodstained dress shirt and tie. The smell of burnt flesh wasn't a new smell, even before the apocalypse, however the state of the engine was a far more annoying occurrence for the German and the Convoy as a whole. Silently, he watched Georgia trudge off for the sake of 'looking around' and Samuel give his say. Finally, he spoke.

"Aye, I agree with the old cotter. Finding a stream or a landmark of some sort would be in our best interest. I can take a look at the engine and see what can be saved." He stated simply, flashing his slowly fading white teeth and giving a smirk as he leaned against the Ambulance.

[RP Closed] Warlords of China

@Rare Take your time mate, no one expects you to live on RPG. We all have irl stuff to do.

@ClocktowerEchos

Excuse me? I LIVE ON RPG PROFESSIONALLY!
IT
IS
MY
LIFE

Too bad I am too lazy to actually write worth a damn and put time into learning BBCode.

The last Survivors

Oh gosh looking at all of these other characters Jackmier is going to be so out of place. A man who wears a tattered suit and a fancy wrist-watch with an ether addiction working alongside a college girl and a elderly farmer.

This'll be good.

The last Survivors

@Chairman Stein
Approved man!
I would recommend a Gas mask or something in the gear because unlike most un-dead RPs even breathing too close to the rotted flesh could get you sick, then in tern zombiefied. Now it's not a requirement but either way you are approved!

If we don't get two more people in the next day or so I'll start up the RP in the IC section.
Feel free to move your character sheet into the Character tab.

@Remipa Awesome

Yea I added a gas-mask just now, I actually forgot about the infectivity when I was posted that so thanks for the reminder.

The last Survivors

Full Name (And nickname if applicable): Jackmier 'Dark Doc' Karkaff

Gender: Male

Age: 53

Height: 5 foot 10 inches

Appearance

Jackmier is a man who's face and appearance matches his personality. A scrawny, dare-say unhealthily thin man with rather greasy shoulder-length black hair. His bright green beady eyes gleam with ambition, jealousy, greed, and pride to boot.

Former occupation: Black Market Surgeon and Enforcer of the Russian Mafia

Current Job(s): Medical Staff with a meddling in Engineering (Machines are just humans with oil as blood, right?)

Weapons of choice: Makarov Pistol, Icepick, Scalpel

Gear of choice: First Aid Kit containing: Roll of Gauze, Painkillers, Bandaids, small vial of morphine, package of antibioitics
Small leather Doctor's Bag containing: Spare set of clothing, a pack of cigarettes, small bottle of Diethyl Ether, and a gas mask.

Personal Items (if applicable): In Jackmier's eyes, the past isn't worth remembering or keeping, only the present matters.

Bio

Jackmier tells no one of his life prior to the convoy, and some of the younger members of the convoy believe that perhaps there was no Jackmier prior to convoy. However, the reality of his past is far more twisted and contorted.

Born to a prostitute for a mother and a father associated with both the East German Stasi and the early Russian mafia. The little he ever saw of his father more often than not involved a short but effective beating and a new set of stitches. The little joy he found out of life came from the animals on his block, especially the stray cats. However, it wasn't the comfort of their purrs that Jackmier enjoyed, it was their yelps as he poked and prodded them with kitchen utensils he'd steal in the morning. Pain was a interest to the young Jackmier, the reactions of mammals to it was a beautiful and intense emotion. Often he'd record in his journal what types of pain animals reacted to the loudest, more violently, and what pain brought the quickest fatality.

As a youthful and equally twisted teen, Jackmier followed in his father's footsteps; first associating with the smaller street gangs and eventually joining his father at the meeting place of the budding Lazanov Family. This slow rise into organized crime gave the young Jackmier meaning, a purpose and place in the ever-changing world around him. He quickly found his place as a field medic and occasionally 'information gatherer' for the family. This was where he found his calling as a surgeon. At all hours of the night Jackmier would be woken by a loud bang on the door, often his own father, and would get straight to work on stitching a new knife-wound, or removing a bullet using only a pair of tweezers and a large bottle of alcohol to dull his patients pain.

Then the wall came down... Mass immigration out of the East and into Western Europe and North America, and the collapse of any uncorruptable law enforcement was a dream come true for the Russian mafia, including the Lazanovs. With a growing power-base at home, Don Gobarik Lazanov gained contacts in North America, specifically New York. With the mass immigration, plenty of illegal Europeans were able to enter the United States, including Jackmier. With a final, firm, handshake with his father he left Germany and Europe for the first and last time. One year later his father would be arrested during a heist gone south in Romania, with no contact again with his son.

Life in New York wasn't much different than East Berlin or any other city Jackmier had spent time in. He continued his life as a surgeon on the Black Market and continued his association with the Lazanov Family in both fixing (and causing) broken bones and limbs. However, in 1998 he encountered what would become his addiction... Ether. A short-lived drug of the 1970s, ether was often used as a general anesthetic in North America, and would become one of the items the now middle-aged Jackmier would use on his patients and himself.

Then the dead began to rise... Within days of what the religious and devout called the apocalypse New York City fell. Chaos filled the streets as both the undead and looters began hunting down those who hadn't fled the city in the initial breakdown. Only through his few remaining and living contacts did Jackmier get out of New York and travel north, towards Vermont. The rest, as they say, is history...

Other: Jackmier's long life within the mafia has given him a variety of skills ranging from drastic information 'gathering' skills, breaking and entering, and on-field medical assistance.

The last Survivors

Full Name (And nickname if applicable): Jackmier 'Dark Doc' Karkaff

Gender: Male

Age: 53

Height: 5 foot 10 inches

Appearance

Jackmier is a man who's face and appearance matches his personality. A scrawny, dare-say unhealthily thin man with rather greasy shoulder-length black hair. His bright green beady eyes gleam with ambition, jealousy, greed, and pride to boot.

Former occupation: Black Market Surgeon and Enforcer of the Russian Mafia

Current Job(s): Medical Staff with a meddling in Engineering (Machines are just humans with oil as blood, right?)

Weapons of choice: Makarov Pistol, Icepick, Scalpel

Gear of choice: First Aid Kit containing: Roll of Gauze, Painkillers, Bandaids, small vial of morphine, package of antibioitics
Small leather Doctor's Bag containing: Spare set of clothing, a pack of cigarettes, and a small bottle of Diethyl Ether.

Personal Items (if applicable): In Jackmier's eyes, the past isn't worth remembering or keeping, only the present matters.

Bio

Jackmier tells no one of his life prior to the convoy, and some of the younger members of the convoy believe that perhaps there was no Jackmier prior to convoy. However, the reality of his past is far more twisted and contorted.

Born to a prostitute for a mother and a father associated with both the East German Stasi and the early Russian mafia. The little he ever saw of his father more often than not involved a short but effective beating and a new set of stitches. The little joy he found out of life came from the animals on his block, especially the stray cats. However, it wasn't the comfort of their purrs that Jackmier enjoyed, it was their yelps as he poked and prodded them with kitchen utensils he'd steal in the morning. Pain was a interest to the young Jackmier, the reactions of mammals to it was a beautiful and intense emotion. Often he'd record in his journal what types of pain animals reacted to the loudest, more violently, and what pain brought the quickest fatality.

As a youthful and equally twisted teen, Jackmier followed in his father's footsteps; first associating with the smaller street gangs and eventually joining his father at the meeting place of the budding Lazanov Family. This slow rise into organized crime gave the young Jackmier meaning, a purpose and place in the ever-changing world around him. He quickly found his place as a field medic and occasionally 'information gatherer' for the family. This was where he found his calling as a surgeon. At all hours of the night Jackmier would be woken by a loud bang on the door, often his own father, and would get straight to work on stitching a new knife-wound, or removing a bullet using only a pair of tweezers and a large bottle of alcohol to dull his patients pain.

Then the wall came down... Mass immigration out of the East and into Western Europe and North America, and the collapse of any uncorruptable law enforcement was a dream come true for the Russian mafia, including the Lazanovs. With a growing power-base at home, Don Gobarik Lazanov gained contacts in North America, specifically New York. With the mass immigration, plenty of illegal Europeans were able to enter the United States, including Jackmier. With a final, firm, handshake with his father he left Germany and Europe for the first and last time. One year later his father would be arrested during a heist gone south in Romania, with no contact again with his son.

Life in New York wasn't much different than East Berlin or any other city Jackmier had spent time in. He continued his life as a surgeon on the Black Market and continued his association with the Lazanov Family in both fixing (and causing) broken bones and limbs. However, in 1998 he encountered what would become his addiction... Ether. A short-lived drug of the 1970s, ether was often used as a general anesthetic in North America, and would become one of the items the now middle-aged Jackmier would use on his patients and himself.

Then the dead began to rise... Within days of what the religious and devout called the apocalypse New York City fell. Chaos filled the streets as both the undead and looters began hunting down those who hadn't fled the city in the initial breakdown. Only through his few remaining and living contacts did Jackmier get out of New York and travel north, towards Vermont. The rest, as they say, is history...

Other: Jackmier's long life within the mafia has given him a variety of skills ranging from drastic information 'gathering' skills, breaking and entering, and on-field medical assistance.

The last Survivors

I mostly do Nation RPS but you have my interest! I actually just finally caught up with Walking Dead this evening and a zombie rp is exactly what I need to continue the binge!