urukhai said
Awesome!! Yah they do that, dont know why, all it taks is me to click edit and then submit again, but hey now they are fixed!
Awesome man. I'll start thinking up of a character, hopes this gets much support.
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Awesome man. I'll start thinking up of a character, hopes this gets much support.
Wow, I am very much interested. Count me in mate.
EDIT: You should probably fix your hiders man.
EDIT: You should probably fix your hiders man.
QT said
Not really sure why that person put up a map. I suppose he just wanted to show everyone where his character was and how big Bandwra is, but I'm not tryin to get all technical with this stuff. Yeah, the rp is located in Bandera, Texas, but I only chose that location for its physical geography. All you need to know is that it's basically the country-side. Minimal population, not much urbanization. That's really it. You want to start in a cabin, by all means go ahead. Make up your own stuff. I know it's helpful to know where were located, but I don't expect anyone to know everything about Bandera, Texas. I sure as heck dont. Therefore, I prefer fake locations placed wherever you see fit. Don't worry about precision.For example: the hospital my character is in, is not even in Bandera, Texas. It's in Boerne or what not, but who gives two potatoes. It's in Bandera today, so hey. Let it be.
Shit! I didn't see that we are starting in Bandera TX. I thought your guy was in the Methodist Hospital in Houston. Let me edit mine a little bit so that I can start in a forest near Bandera because my guy is 250 miles away from all the action. XD
EDIT: Alright I've fixed it. My guy is about 10-15 miles from Bandera, TX. Everything should be cool now.
Bananna. Butt. Fish.
Lol. Just. Joking.
Lots. Of. Paragraphs.
Lol. Just. Joking.
Lots. Of. Paragraphs.
I'm gonna put a theme song for my character because it seems fun.
EDIT: It's supposed to be The End by The Doors. It's not showing up on my screen, sorry about that.
EDIT: It's supposed to be The End by The Doors. It's not showing up on my screen, sorry about that.
Clayton Burrows - Hill Country State Natural Area
Clayton sat quietly down by a log, being careful not to make any sudden movements. He proceeded to slide his rifle of his arm and gently land onto the log before him. Clayton hasn't used this rifle since he was a young ignorant boy being dragged to hunt game near Lake McMurty by his overly eager father. His father loved to hunt; it almost scared him actually. How could one man love killing another species so much? Clayton's theory was that it was just his father being more in touch with his baser instinct. In a way, he was more human than most. Clayton got down on one knee, trying to be as comfortable as he could while doing so. He started to position the gun more effectively, so that the butt was being pushed against his shoulder for controlled firepower. He then placed his head down towards the scope, fiddling with the focus on the scope while doing so. In his sights was a white tailed deer just mindlessly grazing amongst the plants around it.
The creature must have been about 80 yards away, which was a decent distance to fire from. As his focus on the scope was made clearer so was the creature's nature. This was an animal that has been afraid of man for thousands of years and yet it probably hasn't seen one in months. However the fear still resides in him. If Clayton was too simply run the creature would sprint in fear and terror. He wonders how deer would act 100 years from now when man is completely gone. Would they go manic or be more passive? This whole world has given Clayton more time to think than he knows what to do with. He enjoys it. He likes the ambiance and the silence. Who knew desolation had a silver lining? With enough twiddling he finally found his focus. His finger massaged the trigger smoothly like baby oil. He had only fired this weapon a few times in the past 6 months; he’s still a little rusty. Makes him wish he had paid attention to what his father was telling him years ago.
He had to consider wind and bullet drop but he has no fucking idea how to even measure those kinds of things. All he has to fire and pray to whatever deity there is left in this world; he doubts there is any caretaker left. The more he looks at it, the more he feels guilty to kill it. Hunting has obviously lowered since everything began and yet this deer is unlucky enough to find itself in the wrong place at the wrong time. It turns and looks in the direction of Clayton. Its dark eyes stared straight through to Clayton’s soul. It’s quite a curious, innocent thing…shame nature must take its course. Flutter went the birds in the area as silence dropped all around. All that was left was the faint galloping of terrified deer that has been blessed with luck in its near-final hours. Clayton cursed as his bullet took a near-miss at the deer. One would think that he was cursing because had lost his chance at some supplies but the truth is, he’s cursing because he still hasn’t improved his shooting skills. He’s got limited ammunition and is not an idiot. Having your own DIY shooting range is one way to attract trouble. He picked his rifle up and placed it back onto his shoulder and started walking through the dim forest. There were so many trees about that even the time of day seemed like an impossible question to ask.
Clayton had been walking through the desert-green land for a few hours and was starting to become exhausted. The nearest civilization was a little hamlet about 10 miles back but he never goes to the same place twice. He appreciates landscape as art. Once you’ve thoroughly seen and used it then there is no more point to it. In the green-covered distance he can see some sort of white. As he got closer the strange object revealed itself to be a building of some sort. He started to approach it cautiously. As much as he admires this world, it’s full of dangers and not to be taken lightly. Then again so was the world before. It’s only in this one that he feels safer. The building was in a small clearing, so it’s perfect for cover. You could turn on a thousand lights here and only the veil of trees would be enough to cover it. The building was small and had worn out mark on it that said “Texas Park Rangers” on it. It was obviously a park ranger outpost from the world of yesterday. It will be useful as bed for tonight. The windows was boarded up and there’s an abandoned park ranger pick up truck just outside. He’s not the first person who’s had the same idea. He un-holstered his hunting knife and kept it ready. The people today have trouble catching up with the world and it makes them crazy and unhealthy. He’s seen people scrounge up scraps of rotten food like scraps while wearing worn Dolce and Gabbana clothes. A once respected member of society transformed into an animal. The evolution of psyche is amazing. It lays dormant till needed but the spirit has already been institutionalized so in the end, they’re fucked.
He walks up to one of the small tiles of window that hasn’t been boarded. It was way to dark to see anything but it seems that a struggle was involved. He walks up to the door slowly and carefully. The door wasn’t locked and the metal surrounding was rusty. This place has barely been used but still been used at one point nonetheless. He opens the door very slowly; the only thing he hears is rustling and groaning sounds. He then proceeds to open full force to get ready to defend himself but was greeted with the sight and smell of a strange walker who was hanging by the neck from the ceiling fan. From the sight of his clothes, the walker appeared to be a former park ranger who has just hung himself. There’s no bite marks on him, so he killed himself in emotional pain. Clayton finds it intriguing to just watch the walker struggle. He looks into his black, hollow eyes and he can see nothing but natural savagery. He was watching the basis of nature at it’s finest. Hunger. Need. Life. Death. The whole package rolled into one creature. He marvelled at it, almost respecting it. Clayton closed the door and proceeded to move a nearby desk by it for protection. He places his gun and backpack down, pulling up a chair while doing so. The walker tries to reach for Clayton but was stuck by the rope on his neck. Clayton just lit up a cigarette and just watched him plainly. He wasn’t playing with it; he wasn’t killing it or torturing it. He was just watching it. Art needs to be appreciated and respected but not taken lightly. Art and nature has its own way of ‘biting’ back.
Clayton sat quietly down by a log, being careful not to make any sudden movements. He proceeded to slide his rifle of his arm and gently land onto the log before him. Clayton hasn't used this rifle since he was a young ignorant boy being dragged to hunt game near Lake McMurty by his overly eager father. His father loved to hunt; it almost scared him actually. How could one man love killing another species so much? Clayton's theory was that it was just his father being more in touch with his baser instinct. In a way, he was more human than most. Clayton got down on one knee, trying to be as comfortable as he could while doing so. He started to position the gun more effectively, so that the butt was being pushed against his shoulder for controlled firepower. He then placed his head down towards the scope, fiddling with the focus on the scope while doing so. In his sights was a white tailed deer just mindlessly grazing amongst the plants around it.
The creature must have been about 80 yards away, which was a decent distance to fire from. As his focus on the scope was made clearer so was the creature's nature. This was an animal that has been afraid of man for thousands of years and yet it probably hasn't seen one in months. However the fear still resides in him. If Clayton was too simply run the creature would sprint in fear and terror. He wonders how deer would act 100 years from now when man is completely gone. Would they go manic or be more passive? This whole world has given Clayton more time to think than he knows what to do with. He enjoys it. He likes the ambiance and the silence. Who knew desolation had a silver lining? With enough twiddling he finally found his focus. His finger massaged the trigger smoothly like baby oil. He had only fired this weapon a few times in the past 6 months; he’s still a little rusty. Makes him wish he had paid attention to what his father was telling him years ago.
He had to consider wind and bullet drop but he has no fucking idea how to even measure those kinds of things. All he has to fire and pray to whatever deity there is left in this world; he doubts there is any caretaker left. The more he looks at it, the more he feels guilty to kill it. Hunting has obviously lowered since everything began and yet this deer is unlucky enough to find itself in the wrong place at the wrong time. It turns and looks in the direction of Clayton. Its dark eyes stared straight through to Clayton’s soul. It’s quite a curious, innocent thing…shame nature must take its course. Flutter went the birds in the area as silence dropped all around. All that was left was the faint galloping of terrified deer that has been blessed with luck in its near-final hours. Clayton cursed as his bullet took a near-miss at the deer. One would think that he was cursing because had lost his chance at some supplies but the truth is, he’s cursing because he still hasn’t improved his shooting skills. He’s got limited ammunition and is not an idiot. Having your own DIY shooting range is one way to attract trouble. He picked his rifle up and placed it back onto his shoulder and started walking through the dim forest. There were so many trees about that even the time of day seemed like an impossible question to ask.
Clayton had been walking through the desert-green land for a few hours and was starting to become exhausted. The nearest civilization was a little hamlet about 10 miles back but he never goes to the same place twice. He appreciates landscape as art. Once you’ve thoroughly seen and used it then there is no more point to it. In the green-covered distance he can see some sort of white. As he got closer the strange object revealed itself to be a building of some sort. He started to approach it cautiously. As much as he admires this world, it’s full of dangers and not to be taken lightly. Then again so was the world before. It’s only in this one that he feels safer. The building was in a small clearing, so it’s perfect for cover. You could turn on a thousand lights here and only the veil of trees would be enough to cover it. The building was small and had worn out mark on it that said “Texas Park Rangers” on it. It was obviously a park ranger outpost from the world of yesterday. It will be useful as bed for tonight. The windows was boarded up and there’s an abandoned park ranger pick up truck just outside. He’s not the first person who’s had the same idea. He un-holstered his hunting knife and kept it ready. The people today have trouble catching up with the world and it makes them crazy and unhealthy. He’s seen people scrounge up scraps of rotten food like scraps while wearing worn Dolce and Gabbana clothes. A once respected member of society transformed into an animal. The evolution of psyche is amazing. It lays dormant till needed but the spirit has already been institutionalized so in the end, they’re fucked.
He walks up to one of the small tiles of window that hasn’t been boarded. It was way to dark to see anything but it seems that a struggle was involved. He walks up to the door slowly and carefully. The door wasn’t locked and the metal surrounding was rusty. This place has barely been used but still been used at one point nonetheless. He opens the door very slowly; the only thing he hears is rustling and groaning sounds. He then proceeds to open full force to get ready to defend himself but was greeted with the sight and smell of a strange walker who was hanging by the neck from the ceiling fan. From the sight of his clothes, the walker appeared to be a former park ranger who has just hung himself. There’s no bite marks on him, so he killed himself in emotional pain. Clayton finds it intriguing to just watch the walker struggle. He looks into his black, hollow eyes and he can see nothing but natural savagery. He was watching the basis of nature at it’s finest. Hunger. Need. Life. Death. The whole package rolled into one creature. He marvelled at it, almost respecting it. Clayton closed the door and proceeded to move a nearby desk by it for protection. He places his gun and backpack down, pulling up a chair while doing so. The walker tries to reach for Clayton but was stuck by the rope on his neck. Clayton just lit up a cigarette and just watched him plainly. He wasn’t playing with it; he wasn’t killing it or torturing it. He was just watching it. Art needs to be appreciated and respected but not taken lightly. Art and nature has its own way of ‘biting’ back.
Appearance: 
Name: Clayton Burrows
Age: 54
Skill: Hunting, camping, strong stomach
Weapons: Winchester Model 70 with scope, hunting knife and a priest (the tool, not the Christian….)
Personality: Clayton is a bit of a hard-ass but is not completely closed off. Stubbornness is the motivation for his survival not determination for life or love. He’s lonely but it doesn’t haunt his feelings. He feels old enough to have lived his life but not old enough to lie down and die. With the world in ruins, his motivation for doing most things ranging from food or water to exploration is motivated by either survival or spontaneity. Part of him feels glad the world has gone to hell. It’s given him a feeling of absolute freedom. Clayton has never cared for leadership. He was never a father by nature. He prefers doing things his way, explains the preference to being on his own compared to a group.
Brief Bio: Clayton was born and raised in the small town of Red Rock, Oklahoma. His mother was a cleaner and his father was a butcher. They earned a mediocre combined salary but it was enough to raise one child. It was one of the reasons why they never tried to have another; one was simply enough. Throughout his childhood, his father regularly took him on hunting trips and Clayton hated them. They were tiring, boring and freezing sometimes. His father’s motto was “If you’re gonna violate it’s innards with a knife, then you should have the decency to kill it yourself.” Everything from guns to skinning, his father showed him everything and every time he would complain like your average teenager. Clayton never hunted again till he really needed it and that wasn’t until 35-40 years later.
His father died when he was 21 from a heart attack. In his will, he left him his old hunting gear. Clayton appreciated it but never fully. He kept it for many years to dust in storage. He left to go to Texas to find opportunities but had trouble finding any. He didn’t do well in school and had little to no experience. He was able to get a job as an electrician’s apprentice in a small hospital in Dallas. It was a hard job but Clayton would take on anything to get paid. During his time at the hospital he met a nurse called Elise who would eventually become his wife and lover.
Clayton and Elise married when Clayton was 24 and they continued to live a happy and merry life; even without kids. The happiness was shattered 20 years later when Elise was diagnosed with terminal cancer. Even with Clayton’s job as senior electrician at the hospital, it wasn’t enough to pay for any expensive treatments. Elise died two years later after a hard battle. After that, Clayton started to feel depressed and lonely. He had become prescribed with antidepressants but nothing could budge it completely.
When the apocalypse started to hit, he witnessed the chaos and anarchy that ensured afterwards. To most people it was frightening and horrifying but to Clayton, it was relieving. He felt spiritually free almost. The sense of absolute freedom was something he seemed to embrace and not deny or run away from. He packed any gear he could find, including his father’s old hunting gear, and just set out onto the god forsaken world.
Other: Clayton is not an expert hunter and is very rusty; he doesn’t have any official hunting clothes, so he wears your average jacket, shirt and trousers. In the picture, he does not wear that hat.
Name: Clayton Burrows
Age: 54
Skill: Hunting, camping, strong stomach
Weapons: Winchester Model 70 with scope, hunting knife and a priest (the tool, not the Christian….)
Personality: Clayton is a bit of a hard-ass but is not completely closed off. Stubbornness is the motivation for his survival not determination for life or love. He’s lonely but it doesn’t haunt his feelings. He feels old enough to have lived his life but not old enough to lie down and die. With the world in ruins, his motivation for doing most things ranging from food or water to exploration is motivated by either survival or spontaneity. Part of him feels glad the world has gone to hell. It’s given him a feeling of absolute freedom. Clayton has never cared for leadership. He was never a father by nature. He prefers doing things his way, explains the preference to being on his own compared to a group.
Brief Bio: Clayton was born and raised in the small town of Red Rock, Oklahoma. His mother was a cleaner and his father was a butcher. They earned a mediocre combined salary but it was enough to raise one child. It was one of the reasons why they never tried to have another; one was simply enough. Throughout his childhood, his father regularly took him on hunting trips and Clayton hated them. They were tiring, boring and freezing sometimes. His father’s motto was “If you’re gonna violate it’s innards with a knife, then you should have the decency to kill it yourself.” Everything from guns to skinning, his father showed him everything and every time he would complain like your average teenager. Clayton never hunted again till he really needed it and that wasn’t until 35-40 years later.
His father died when he was 21 from a heart attack. In his will, he left him his old hunting gear. Clayton appreciated it but never fully. He kept it for many years to dust in storage. He left to go to Texas to find opportunities but had trouble finding any. He didn’t do well in school and had little to no experience. He was able to get a job as an electrician’s apprentice in a small hospital in Dallas. It was a hard job but Clayton would take on anything to get paid. During his time at the hospital he met a nurse called Elise who would eventually become his wife and lover.
Clayton and Elise married when Clayton was 24 and they continued to live a happy and merry life; even without kids. The happiness was shattered 20 years later when Elise was diagnosed with terminal cancer. Even with Clayton’s job as senior electrician at the hospital, it wasn’t enough to pay for any expensive treatments. Elise died two years later after a hard battle. After that, Clayton started to feel depressed and lonely. He had become prescribed with antidepressants but nothing could budge it completely.
When the apocalypse started to hit, he witnessed the chaos and anarchy that ensured afterwards. To most people it was frightening and horrifying but to Clayton, it was relieving. He felt spiritually free almost. The sense of absolute freedom was something he seemed to embrace and not deny or run away from. He packed any gear he could find, including his father’s old hunting gear, and just set out onto the god forsaken world.
Other: Clayton is not an expert hunter and is very rusty; he doesn’t have any official hunting clothes, so he wears your average jacket, shirt and trousers. In the picture, he does not wear that hat.
Got my post up. Forgive me for the lateness of it.
Kain was greeted by a wickedly sexy Scorn who stood in the doorway in a coal-black dress with high heels. It showed off her legs in a most devilish manner. Her voiced shrieked with chilling thrill as she saw the beaten preacher on Kain’s shoulders. Kain just smiled as she saw Scorn run skip around excitedly like a demented child. He dropped the Preacher on the floor like an old bag per her request. Kain saw in front of him a heavenly made Italian meal that could impress even the stubbornness of an Italian chef. Scorn continued to mention that torture is more satisfying when one is full up. Kain can believe that. A nice home cooked meal is perfect for getting one ready for a long night of enforcing pain and agony. Kain went to the dinner table and took his place at it. Considering the fact that the preacher was in the room as well, he considered saying prayer in mocking of his rants but his stomach instincts in this case were stronger than his need to humiliate.
“This is a wonderful meal. I feel quite spoilt actually,” Kain smiles excitedly. He hasn’t had a freshly home-cooked meal in a long while. For the past few years, he has lived on takeaway foods that he has mostly stolen. This was a nice change of pace. He then points towards the unconscious preacher. “Just before me and my friend here arrived, he was just telling me how conduits are sent by the devil and that we must burn in the eyes of god. This of course was a lovely topic for which we debated on but I think your input on the subject would be helpful.” He continues to smile devilishly with a sense of humiliation against the preacher. He starts to take a bite out of the Italian meal. It was quite delicious and scrumptious.
“Also, that bar you sent me through. That place was filled with idiotic kids. I almost lost my patience and burnt it to the ground. I’m surprised myself that I kept my cool. There was one guy who thought it would be funny to jump up on top of the bar and quote Don Quixote like some god-awful Broadway wannabe. To make things worse, he had some letters on his back to show off that he some sort of fucking lone-wolf. The fucking kids these days; they’re all such fucking wannabes. This meal was the only thing keeping me from killing him.” Before Scorn could answer she got a phone call and had to answer it. He didn’t really care who it was and it was probably someone from the Reapers. He continued to eat his meal peace. He listened into the phone call for little bits hear and there and it was mostly mundane stuff until he heard that the other person was making threats. This pushed Kain’s curiosity higher to it peak. No lackey would oppose Scorn so who was on the other line, wondered Kain. He waited until Scorn was finished with her phone call before asking her.
“This is a wonderful meal. I feel quite spoilt actually,” Kain smiles excitedly. He hasn’t had a freshly home-cooked meal in a long while. For the past few years, he has lived on takeaway foods that he has mostly stolen. This was a nice change of pace. He then points towards the unconscious preacher. “Just before me and my friend here arrived, he was just telling me how conduits are sent by the devil and that we must burn in the eyes of god. This of course was a lovely topic for which we debated on but I think your input on the subject would be helpful.” He continues to smile devilishly with a sense of humiliation against the preacher. He starts to take a bite out of the Italian meal. It was quite delicious and scrumptious.
“Also, that bar you sent me through. That place was filled with idiotic kids. I almost lost my patience and burnt it to the ground. I’m surprised myself that I kept my cool. There was one guy who thought it would be funny to jump up on top of the bar and quote Don Quixote like some god-awful Broadway wannabe. To make things worse, he had some letters on his back to show off that he some sort of fucking lone-wolf. The fucking kids these days; they’re all such fucking wannabes. This meal was the only thing keeping me from killing him.” Before Scorn could answer she got a phone call and had to answer it. He didn’t really care who it was and it was probably someone from the Reapers. He continued to eat his meal peace. He listened into the phone call for little bits hear and there and it was mostly mundane stuff until he heard that the other person was making threats. This pushed Kain’s curiosity higher to it peak. No lackey would oppose Scorn so who was on the other line, wondered Kain. He waited until Scorn was finished with her phone call before asking her.
MatthiasAngel said
Hey. Sorry, but I'm going to have to withdraw. I've been under conviction for being a Christian and not being open about it on the internet. I'm saved and haven't said anything about it, so I will. Jesus died for you. He died for your sins and rose from the dead. Salvation is simple. Admit you are a sinner. Believe that Jesus died and rose again. Ask him to save you. That's all there is to it, and I wish I had said it sooner. Please consider salvation. It's the most important decision you will ever make.
...what?...
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