Dusty

Life After- A Sorta Nation Prepping RP

Yeah, we're going to be flying solo in our own little stories for awhile, until someone's characters have the gumption to leave home so we can have interactions.

Life After- A Sorta Nation Prepping RP

Things were getting worse. Eric Freeman leaned forward to turn up the radio using his other hand to wipe away the thin layer of sweat that was collecting on his forehead. He was in his kitchen with stacks of plywood cutouts, screws, and stands all ready for swift deployment should the disasters sweeping the world rear their ugly heads in central Texas. Eric wasn’t confident that anything would happen, thus the unbarred windows, but it never hurt to be cautious. His preparations would make putting up the barriers easy enough for even Tonya to quickly achieve in a short notice, on the off chance something happened while he was away from the house. The chances of that seemed unlikely as well however. Freeman hadn’t received a call from his employers since last week, when they canceled his flight into Anchorage, giving him little reason to leave.

A sense of foreboding had fallen over the local community and state as a whole, even despite the lack of any real calamity there. Stores were picked clean of canned goods and survival gear faster than the businesses could restock their warehouses. Eric could clearly see the signs of growing unease, and remained grateful he’d been pre-prepared before any of this went down. He’d felt the same way some years back after all, which was why he became prepared in the first place. Some sixth sense, or stroke of luck prompted him to ensure his place of residence remained his castle of security, a location where he would not become helpless in the event of a disaster. A way to take care of number one first and foremost, and of course Tonya. Admittedly the arrival of his niece six months back threw a wrench into his survival plans, and he’d been forced to accommodate accordingly. Once again thankfully before the outside world went to shit.

Finishing up with the windows Eric set aside his tools and walked into the living room, bringing the radio with him. The device rarely left his side nowadays, and its constant blaring of bad news was making him depressed, but it was necessary. Just the other day he’d heard the report on scientists concerns about Yellowstone, and the monumental catastrophe they predicted it would cause, but it was far away as well, hopefully far enough.

Sitting on the couch was Eric’s tenant, a young man named Peter who looked disheveled and exhausted from lack of sleep. Normally Peter would be at his classes but lately he’d been spending all his time trying again and again to contact his family back in Korea. Over the radio it’d been confirmed that many of the Asian nations had been hit particularly hard by the aftershocks of Toba, and with the world tension at what it was right now the lack of closure haunted the younger man’s every hour.

“Nothing yet?” Eric probed sitting down across from Peter. The tenant shook his head, bouncing his phone on the palm of his hand with a nervous energy. Eric understood, doing nothing, just sitting around and waiting chewed on the nerves. He’d felt the same way when sitting on an aircraft carrier back when he’d been in the Navy, wishing for something to do. “I’m sure they’re alright.” Eric reassured with false optimism. “There’s just something up with the signals, all the towers are busted or, you know….” Invasion, utter destruction, and massive death tolls. All things he couldn’t rightly say out loud to Peter.

“I just hope they’re alive, and safe, and this whole thing would just be a bad memory.” Yawning Peter stood up, rubbing at his eyes. “I can’t stay awake any longer. Please excuse me.”

“You and me and the whole world agree on that one son. Go on, and get yourself some shuteye. You look like you could use it.” Eric insisted. As Peter departed the room Eric refocused his attention on the radio, listening in as the bad news steadily got worse. He had that feeling again, like things were only going to get worse. And maybe, their current situation wouldn't be recalled as a bad memory of global disaster, but as the calm before the storm.

Multi-Para RP - The Second Rat

Here you are @Levex321, lemme know if there's anything you'd like changed.

Street Rat

Name: Tya/Clapper

Age: Twelve

Height: Five feet tall

General Appearance:

Image

Tya is a generally grubby little girl with shoulder length black hair and large brown eyes. She's roughly five feet tall and about a hundred pounds. She's rather scrawny and shows signs of being seriously malnourished, a issue that's common amongst the rats. She wears a collection of dirty clothing that's been patched together from a few gathered scraps, she doesn't even have shoes of her own and has resorted to wrapping her hands and feet in extra lengths of cloth.

Special: Besides a number of scars on her feet, arms, and legs from running the rough and dirty streets and being savaged by a few dogs Tya has no markings of significance.

Belongings: Tya owns a purse and belt of her own to collect her loot, and has a small but razor sharp knife for slitting wallets from pockets and coins from bags, as well as a little wooden clapping toy from which she derives her alias. Tya predictably has very few personal belongings that she carries, or even that she keeps at her bedroll in the Aerie. She lives amongst thieves after all.

________________________________________________________________

Parents, Alive or Dead?: While Tya knows her mother is dead, she is unsure about her father. Unknown to her however her father is still lives.

Existing Family: Tya has no immediate family to speak of, and only knows the first name of her father. The only family she has now is the adoptive Macliar and those at the Aerie. Her father is a guardsman living in a different city far removed from the life of his daughter, so much so he doesn't even know of her existence.

Personal History:

When Wudsmouth was reasonably safer than its current state, some twelve years ago the wealthy merchant Rungsma would journey through, spending the night at his aunt's homestead for a few days to rest his feet and horses, and allow his men to spend their meager earnings. Wudsmouth and the surrounding lands had become plagued with crime over the last eight years and no merchant who wished to keep his coin dared journey within ten miles of the place without a full entourage of armed men. Rungsma was no exception and accompanying him in his caravan were thirty young and bold swords for hire. As was tradition that year Rungsma released his men of their duties once his wagons were safe within his aunt's walled homestead allowing them to do as they pleased while in Wudsmouth.

One of the more popular activities of his men with freshly filled wallets was to visit the city's famous brothels, to indulge in the company of fine women. One guardsman by the name of Tasd found himself in the bed of a young women called Rya for the night. Leaving her once morning came with naught but his pay and name. Tasd never returned, not that he was expected to, but he did leave Rya with a child, a daughter whom she aptly named Tya. This particular child was Rya's first, and so she cared for her well using the earnings of her work, abandoning all her other children at birth so she could continue to support herself and her daughter. But when the girl reached five years of age Rya was strangled to death by a drunk, which left Tya on her own in a cruel and swiftly worsening city.

Life in Wudsmouth is harsh for even hardened brigands and street urchins, but for one as young and helpless as little Tya it might have well been a death sentence. It was only when a burglar by the name of Bubmlon from the Aerie happened upon her, starving, sick, and near death that her life began to turn around. Sensing the potential in such an innocent young face Bubmlon lured her into the Macliar's ranks, indoctrinating and training her to be a swift, and successful little cutpurse for the Aerie. Rewarding her generously when she succeeded, and punishing her viciously when she failed. He became like an older brother to her, and she loved him in that way. Tya learned quickly and, after a few years she could even begin to fend for herself, carving out her own place amongst the rats.

For his part Bubmlon grew somewhat affectionate of her in return, showing it through small gifts and occasional words of praise. More often than not it was his knife that cut her hair, ensuring it was never long enough for a quick handed merchant to catch ahold. Sometimes when he made a successful run he would bring her back small treats or presents, blankets or new clothes. It was Bubmlon who brought her the small clapper toy as well which soon became her alias' namesake. When it was to dangerous to go out onto the streets he would occasionally spend time with her whiling away the hours. It was in Tya's tenth year that tragedy struck. During one of his nightly escapades, only a few months before he was old enough to leave the Aerie. Bubmlon was captured and thrown into the city's prisons, and as is prescribed by the harsh laws of the city he was sentenced to die. Dragged into view of a waiting crowd, amongst many other convicts Bubmlon was hung until dead as a statement against crime.

His sudden demise shocked Tya, and for the next two years of her life she became slightly more timid in her own exploits, horrified by the idea of being hung from the walls, left to rot until the crows plucked out her eyes. And for the first time Tya began to hunt for her father in earnest. Her search, while energetic, was inevitably in vain as he didn't even live within Wudsmouth. Tya however didn't know this and was determined to find him. He, she resolved, would protect her and give her a good life. All she had to go on was a name, a name her mother had told her all those years ago before she died. Tya nevertheless was hopeful that one day she would find her father, and that he would be a wealthy and kind man who would take her in. It was a foolish dream, one driven by fear of the noose, and a desperation to leave the miserable existence in the slums of Wudsmouth.



How You Joined The Macliar Rats/ The Aerie: Tya was found at age six and recruited into the Macliar rats by a successful burglar named Bubmlon. She was taught to be a petty thief, and a lock breaker.

Life After- A Sorta Nation Prepping RP

Freeman Residence

Survivors:
Eric Freeman – A good hearted, but distrusting man of forty-eight years Eric is the a-typical prepper. He’s not expecting anything nation breaking but has prepared for a devastating natural disaster all the same. Lately he’s amped up his efforts, and refreshed his supplies as something seems off in the geo-political environment. He works as a pilot for FedEx, and has served ten years in the US Navy as a fighter pilot before retiring. He’s a widower and the legal guardian of his niece Tonya, and has no children of his own. His skills are limited, but he’s a decent survivalist and a competent hunter. He’s also happens to be a trained pilot, with particular skill in flying large multi engine aircraft.

Peter Wan – A twenty-two year old electric engineering major from Korea. Peter isn’t much of a prepper but he’s renting out Eric Freeman’s spare bedroom so that he can attend his classes at UT, he also works part time at a nearby pizzeria. Peter is proficient with electronics, and configuring radios and he’s got a pretty good head on his shoulders. Peter doesn’t spend too much time around the house, and has only been staying with Eric for about two months.

Tonya Wisher – Tonya is a twelve year old girl originally from Montana who now lives with her only uncle outside of San Antonia Texas. Her parents were killed in an accident a year back, and after being passed around from one family member to the next she finally settled in with Eric Freeman, her mother’s brother. Eric bought her a puppy to help cheer her up, and enrolled her in the local Girl Scouts. She’s a smart girl and quick to learn and hardly any trouble, of which Eric is very grateful.

The Stronghold

Set at the end of a cul-de-sac on Blueberry Street in New Braunfels Texas is Eric’s one story three bedroomed suburban residence. The house has been prepped for natural disasters, having a decent amount of canned food and clean water stored in the attic, (about two hundred units) and a solid concrete foundation. From within the attic there is access to the roof and a number of small windows which can act as makeshift shooting ports in the event of a siege. The attic is the most secure part of the house, with stacks of prefilled sandbags, fire hydrants, shovels, and axes all ready to be used, along with a twelve foot ladder should escape into the back yard be necessary, and an inflatable raft with an electric pump.

The ground floor of the house is fairly typical for a usual suburban dwelling. The decorations are sparse but homey and the rooms are kept clean. In the kitchen is an extra twenty units of perishable supplies for regular use, usually restocked by Eric every week or so. In the living room is the TV and a portable radio and a couch which can double as a bed or door barricade. The spare bedroom is kept in good condition by Peter, and is usually left alone by Eric. In Tonya’s room, besides the normal furnishings, is a hand portable radio, and in her closet a hastily made up survival bag with six units of nonperishable food, and several other basic essentials.

In the master bedroom Eric has a two walk-in closets, one of which he’s turned into his personal armory. Within he keeps his AR-15 with about four hundred 5.56 rounds, two 9mm Glocks with about ninety rounds, and a 12 gauge pump action shot gun with roughly thirty rounds. Also stored in that closet, which is kept locked at all times, Eric keeps his own massive survival backpack with twelve units of nonperishable supplies and a compound bow with a quiver of twelve arrows, and a two foot long machete. In there he also keeps an expansive first aid kit, including a range of anti-biotics, gauze and bandages, and water treatment tablets.

Out back in the fenced in yard is a six month old border collie named Bella, whose more Tonya’s pet than an actual guard dog. Nevertheless she is pretty good at protecting the outdoor portion of the house from marauding cats and squirrels, keeping Eric’s tool shed safe, and in the case of real intruders could alert those inside the house with her loud yips. Within Eric’s shed are three barrels of gasoline and a generator, should the electricity be cut off. Eric also keeps his extra plywood for boarding up the windows, and a wide array of tools for practical use on the house and vehicles.

In the carport out front Eric keeps his GMC pickup truck parked next to his beloved Harley Davidson motorcycle, along with his and Tonya’s bicycles. Peter owns his own Prius which is usually parked exposed in the driveway.

Lore:

The terminal grew calm like always in the waning hours of the day. The constant chatter of arrivals and departures faded into quiet calm as Eric Freeman, still in his suit and tie patiently waited for the arrival of the twelve o’clock flight. It was late, very late. Checking his shiny silver watch once more Eric sighed and loosened his tie. It was already fifteen after two, he’d landed his own plane nearly three hours ago having expected his niece to arrive shortly after. This of course didn’t happen and Eric found himself waiting one extra hour, and then another, and another. The delays apparently having been serious, either by bad weather or mechanical errors, either way it was making Eric very nervous.

Standing up Eric ambled over to the window and peered out into the darkened night sky, scanning for any wing lights. Besides the illuminated loading platforms and the blue LED runway lights the skies and airstrips were devoid of light, aircraft or anything else. Eric was about to return to his bench when a distant red glimmer caught his eye, far off in the distance.

“Finally,” he muttered turning away from the window. Despite his impatience Eric felt a certain level of relief that nothing worse occurred mid transit, if that was indeed her flight. And Eric couldn’t imagine who else would be arriving at such an unholy hour. Sure enough after another twenty minutes or so a collection of yawning passengers, toting with them their carry-on bags descended the escalator and gathered around the luggage return. Others wandered over to the only open coffee service left in the airport to buy themselves a late night drink. Eric watched the small crowd disperse, looking for the visage of his niece Tonya Wisher. He’d seen her less than four months ago, and well-remembered her tearstained face at his sister and brother-in-law’s funeral. Tonya had then been shunted around between relatives and friends before at last being dropped into Eric’s custody. The paperwork was signed, the social service inspection complete, and the deed done well before a shocked and anti-social Eric could even take it all in. Normally Eric would’ve been aghast at the terrible idea of him being the legal guardian of a living, breathing child, but how could he say no to his recently orphaned niece?

“Tonya, over here.” Eric called, spotting her descending the escalator. She looked exhausted and disheveled and she rushed over to him, dropping her backpack and embracing his waist in a tight hug. For a moment Eric wasn’t sure what to do, standing perplexed before kneeling down and returning the embrace, patting her blonde hair and uttering an assuring, “Easy now, everything’s going to be alright. We’ll make it through this. We can make it through anything.”

Life After- A Sorta Nation Prepping RP

On the contrary, the New Mexico is connected to the Rocky Mountains, so it can get quite cold, and in northern New Mexico there is large swaths of forest land.

@Andrew Blade

Life After- A Sorta Nation Prepping RP

I’d say northern New Mexico would be your best bet, there’s lots of smaller lakes and mountains, with a slightly larger population than Wyoming. Also it’s closer to the rest of the players.

Multi-Para RP - The Second Rat

@Levex321
Any chance you could whip up a basic character sheet so we could get a head start on making our characters.

Intergalactic Space Adventurers- [ISA]

The Bessy Girl exited hyperspace seconds after the Ranger flying down towards Zaron a few thousand kilometers behind the larger freighter. Jean kept his distance not wanting to startle his quarry. It’d been an easy trip, the Ranger while not advertising its presence didn’t seem interested in hiding from possible pursuers making Jean’s job all the easier. And while the planet Zaron was an odd choice for the freighter to stop, Jean doggedly stuck to his task, sipping whiskey at the control panel of his corvette while breaking the planet’s atmosphere.

The Ranger took a sharp dive just before it reached the city coming to rest at a small out-of-the-way spaceport. Jean passed overhead jerking on the controls to perform a slight roll hovering upside down just long enough to confirm his suspects had exited their spacecraft. Righting the Bessy Girl Jean made a straight course for the nearby city. His ship was clearly marked as a law vessel, and a small joint like that would probably have the honor amidst thieves to warn the Ranger’s crew in time. He’d have to arrive inconspicuously on hoof.

The air traffic grew absurdly thick over the city and it took the better part of twenty minutes for Jean to find an open lot, land, secure his corvette and saddle up Leeroy. After shoving enough kredit tabs into the meter drone to keep Bessy Girl from being impounded for a full day Jean rode hard for the smaller spaceport outside the city, making sure to tuck his badge away under his vest.

The ride didn’t take nearly as long as Jean expected, Leeroy made excellent time even rushing through the close nit trees, the sure footed spugghoss darting like a fox between the plants. The two crested a small rise, passing a number of grounded ships before Jean dismounted by the diner. The gritty assemblage of galactic creatures there didn’t give the sheriff a second look, he fit in well without his badge. Just another ruffian stopping for a drink or a quick bite of chow. Jean left Leeroy to graze, trusting the spugghoss to stick around before stalking inside, his spurs clinking with every step. Locating the alien who appeared to work there Jean ambled up, tipping his hat politely.

“Howdy partner, I’m reckoning you own this fine establishment.”


“You’d be reckonin’ wrong stranger, though I do work here. Welcome to Angie’s, how can I help you?” The alien, who looked to have wooden skin and antlers inconspicuously shoved a poster into his pocket. “We serve breakfast till five so you got thirty three seconds if you’re looking to get our famous boiled Frupple legs.”

“Naw, I ain’t lookin’ for a meal hoss.” Jean leaned against the wooden counter, lowering his voice ever so slightly. “I’m actually lookin’ for a ship, well, the ship’s owner more realistically. I’ve got important business with them I think she touched down in these parts not too long ago.”


“She…?” The alien’s wooden eyebrows rose ever so slightly.

“Yeah, she as in the ship. Ya know how these things are.”


“Oh aye, yeah, yeah.” The alien pulled a dirty rag off its antlers and began to wipe the counter top, his movements methodic and slow. “So which ship are we talkin’ here?”


Jean smiled, confident now. He pretended to think, stroking his chin. “The Ranger I believe it was. A big freighter ship, the kind traders use. Ringing any bells hoss?”

“I know just the one.” The alien assured rehanging the rag on his antlers. For just a moment Jean caught a rather suspicious smirk on the alien’s face, but it was gone again in the next second. “I don’t know where her captain is, off in the city somewhere. But I’d be happy to introduce you to her first mate. Foller me.”


The two ambled out of the diner, engaging in a little small talk. Jean walked at an easy pace in no rush, careful to not appear overly interested. Several times the alien who introduced himself as Valen attempted to pry into Jean’s “business” but was constantly frustrated by the sheriff’s dismissive manner. Together they rounded the port and the docked freighter came into sight, along with a number of its crew.

“There she lies, a nice ship don’t you think.” Valen announced as they approached. “Captained by Urma Looper, one of the better ‘traders’ in the galaxy.” Here Valen let the name resonate, looking for any reaction from Jean.

“Ain’t that right?” Jean said, not falling for the trap. “Ain’t that a famous name for something, yeah, she did that godawful music track, th’ Goobic Roar. Back on the Sol System. My lady friend at the time had to drag me kickin’ and screamin’ to that fiesta desastre.”


“No the Captain of this ship, isn’t musically gifted…. I don’t think.”

“I wouldn’t know hoss. Maybe they share a name. If that’s actually who captains this ship.”


“You don’t know the name of the person you’re doing business with?”

“They’re the mysterious type.” Jean explained, clapping the wooden skinned alien on the shoulder. “Gotta be careful these days ya know. She’s no fool that gal. It was like wrangling a rattler just trying to pin down a single planet with her, let alone something as specific as a space port.”

“Ha, you can say that again stranger. Ursa likes to keep things down tight.” Valen chuckled, before waving down a large black man with a goatee and metal dreadlocks. “Hoy Mac, I got someone whose been looking for you.” The man in question stood a full head higher than Jean, and the roughrider would’ve sworn the very ground rumbled with each of his pounding footsteps. Not to be intimidated Jean shoved his fingers into his gun belt and stood his ground, eyeing the proposed first mate up and down.

“Howdy there, I hear you’ve got the Cap’n of this fine freighter’s ear if not else. You must be Mac.” Jean reached up and touched the tip of his hat with one finger. “Th’ name’s Jean. And I’m looking to have a nice chat with your captain, Ursa, I think it was…” Behind Jean, Valen groaned aloud having realized his mistake to late. Jean smiled holding out his hand to shake. “Now that is a famous name.”

Multi-Para RP - The Second Rat

I'm intrigued, hopefully this will catch a few more eyes as well. I've been itching to do a cutpurse style character for awhile now.

Miraculous America

The previous few hours had been a whirlwind of confusion and wonder. Tonya Tabbet, just your seemingly regular ninth grader found herself in possession of a Miraculous, and the master of a slightly terrifying but equally fascinating little snake by the name of Ossar. It’d all started yesterday after school when Tonya arrived home to find a small ornate box perched upon her pillow. It’d been a quiz day, a bad quiz day, and she was exhausted from her own lackluster performance and doubly so having to encourage a friend who was suffering similarly. Seeing the little parcel Tonya cheered up, thinking it was a gift from her father. Just the thing to brighten up a moody day. Excited at the promise of a surprise Tonya took the little box in hand and raised it to eye level, trying to guess at the contents within. It had to be some sort of necklace, or earrings. “Thanks dad,” she called. Tonya wasn’t sure whether her father was home or not. She hadn’t seen or heard him when she came inside, so he must’ve left it earlier today. Flipping down the small latch Tonya popped the lid open eagerly.

“Agh! A snake!” Tonya released a horrified scream launching the box and miniature multicolored serpent from herself, not even seeing the matching necklace fly off under her bed. The tiny creature twirled through the air a startled hiss escaping its throat before it vanished from sight. For two heartbeats Tonya remained frozen before she grabbed the nearest weapon, her bedside lamp. Clutching the light with tightened knuckles Tonya shuffled away from where the snake had vanished, unable to keep a slight tremor from her voice. “What kind of cruel joke, who would leave a snake in my room?” She said aloud.

“Only a spring cloud blocks the sun, but all you can see is the potential of rain.” A hissing voice from beneath the bed spoke up. Tonya watched in open mouthed terror as the snake rose from the far end of her bed, floating on its own volition. There was no denying where the voice was coming from either, so Tonya did the only sane thing she could think of and launched the lamp she was holding straight for the hovering snake. The serpent phased straight through the illuminating projectile allowing it to shatter upon the opposite wall. Tilting its head the snake released a low hiss of, was it amusement? “Peace Tonya, lest you wake the worrying souls below us. Within this structure lies a hundred who must never know. For everyone’s safety. Especially yours daughter of Tabbet.”

“Who, what…. Why?” Tonya stuttered flinching away as the snake moved closer, it winding body twisted and turned in mystifying fashion before it deposited the discarded necklace into Tonya’s hand.

“Relax and breath Miss Tonya, I am Ossar the kwami of Deception and I serve you. All shall be explained to the fullest. You must simply open you mind to the possibilities.”

Follow this reassurance Ossar slowly coxed Tonya to sit down, and explained in his smooth, hissing way the importance of her new powers and responsibilities, and the Miraculous and kwami that accompanied. It took the better part of three hours before Ossar’s final words faded and Tonya started to jump less at the sight of him. Then in a swift flick of his lithe body Ossar vanished inside the Miraculous, his final instructions being to, “Wear the Miraculous and think upon what I have told you.” Gathering up her stuff Tonya cleared away the destroyed lamp and left her apartment in a rush. Ossar had said that the necklace would give her powers and a suit should she wish to try them out, but she didn’t feel quite ready for that yet. Besides she needed to mull this over for a while, and she needed a new lamp. The mall it seemed was the place to go.

Walking the few blocks to get there Tonya arrived in good time making her way towards the furniture store when she heard yelling, perpetuated by a few screams. Turning Tonya watched in confusion as a group of people ran past closely followed by five marching, glassy eyed weirdos.

“What’s going on?” Tonya asked, at this point in the day she was willing to believe anything. If the five marching weirdos told her there was an alien invasion going on, she probably wouldn’t have been surprised. Instead of answering two of the five grabbed ahold of her arms while the other three marched off. “Hey, let me go freaks!”

“Cease struggling ma’am. You have been acting out of turn, and you shall be punished accordingly. Come with us.” Bodily lifted between the two teenagers Tonya was lugged off kicking and yelling towards the center of the mall where none other than a uniformed Mr. Johnsen stood, surrounded by a small army of similarly glassy-eyed weirdos.

“Another delinquent sir.” The teenager holding Tonya’s right arm snapped to attention, giving the teacher a sharp salute. “Awaiting your discipline.”

“I’m not a delinquent!” Tonya struggled on in vain, thoroughly outraged. “Let me go, you can’t do this, tell them to let me go Mr. Johnsen.” Her eyes landed on the riding whip clutched in Mr. Johnsen’s hand and Tonya’s face went pale. What had they been saying, punishment? Discipline? Redoubling her efforts to escape the vice-like grip of her captors Tonya jerked and pulled in every which way yelling desperately. “Help! Somebody help me!”