@iHxzardx Unaccepted due to noncompliance.
Terrorbubble Member
- Last Seen: 8 yrs ago
- Joined: 9 yrs ago
- Posts: 62 (0.02 / day)
- VMs: 2
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Username history
- Terrorbubble 9 yrs ago
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Chris Fault
-Basics-
Name: Christopher Peter Fault
Age: 19
Gender: Male
-Survival-
Faction: The Mile-High Club
Gear/Weapons:
- One set of filthy clothes
- Multiple chems
- Unidentified rifle with a bit of ammo
Skills:
- Shooting (major)
- Tracking
- Running
- Sneaking
- Pick-pocketing
Powers:
Mild regeneration
Mild x-ray vision
-Other-
Personality:
Honestly just what you’d expect of a Mile-High -- out of it and completely bonkers most of the time. During the rare, painful moments that he’s sober, he’s extremely depressing and self-deprecating.
History:
Chris was born inside of a quaint settlement with few people. His parents were local traders, and had just gotten a license to start gathering and selling clean water before he’d took off to join the Mile-Highs. He got involved with them at sixteen after an encounter with a female from the faction who had a one night stand with him and got him to try a couple of different chems in the same night. It wasn’t until very recently that he’d tried eating human flesh for the first time (after being encouraged heavily by his fellow Mile-High members, of course).
Etc:
-Open cannibal.
-One of the Mile-High’s biggest sellers.
Mid-Morning, Late Spring, Year 2198
There was only so much Alexander could do to save a person from losing their battle with the greater strand of the Canilo virus. Truthfully, there really wasn’t much that he could do. His most recent patient was a tall, gangling, blond teenager who was just beginning his third week of infection. The boy’s name was Colin Evon, and had not long been rescued after barely surviving a mauling by a bear during his assigned hunt. The crude stitches on his rib cage were still present as he lay shirtless, and near lifeless, on the infirmary’s cot, shivering with fever.
“Please,” he begged. His lips were chapped and bluish, his voice cracking with the whispers of death. “I-I’m so cold.”
“Your fever is too high,” Alexander frowned without turning, knowing what the boy wanted. From a small refrigerator, he retrieved a bottle of cold and presumably clean water before returning to Colin’s side. “I can’t give you the blanket right now, okay? Here, drink this, you’re horribly dehydrated.”
The cold water was spat weakly out of the boy’s mouth the exact second that it entered. Growing weary from his tireless efforts at helping this hard-headed teen, Alexander let out a heavy, pointed sigh.
“You have to drink,” he said, “or you’ll only die faster.”
This elicited no further response from Colin, other than the fact that he weakly turned on his side, away from Alexander, who let himself out of the room immediately after. If the boy didn’t want to be helped, then there was nothing he could do to help him. It happened like that a lot with patients that came in who were gravely ill. Most of them had suffered some kind of previous trauma or loss anyway -- everyone had. There were a lot of things that a lot of people couldn’t handle, people who let it suck the life right out of them. Alexander refused to be one of those people. He’d literally been personally dealing with death since his first year of life.
Besides, he reasoned with himself, there are too many males in the area. We can afford to have a few die here or there.
Lately, there had been an increase of deaths caused by the greater virus. It was becoming a huge concern within the Saint camp, as the virus was becoming more and more difficult to contain. Most people were able to sit it out, and didn’t seem liable to acquire it again. However, there was still quite a few people who were dying from the illness. People who were dying slow, painful deaths, with seemingly no symptom relief no matter how Alexander treated them. He remembered his first year in the camp -- he’d caught the virus himself.
Maybe, he wondered, this has been going on since before I got here. Maybe this is why they were so quick to accept me.
The thought puzzled him for but a moment before another patient was knocking on his door.
@CLIW
Fren was in a hurry.
Assisting in murder was not something she was new to, however it was still something that got her adrenaline pumping. And quite frankly, she was getting too old for this. Though, most of the younger men just couldn’t resist the chance at having a bit of fun with an older, experienced woman. It was usually the younger ones who had a bit of money, which would have been passed down from parents to children. They were also the easiest to seduce.
But as Fren grew older, she began seeing the young men more as children. Having sex with and then helping murder individuals who she saw as children was seriously weighing on her conscience, not that she’d had much of one anyway. There hadn’t be a recent job she’d done that didn’t make her feel ill afterwards.
As she ran down the remnants of what was once a road, she clutched a potato sack full of chems, weapons, and ammo. There was a woman directly ahead of her, traveling with a small dog of some sort. However, also directly ahead of her was the Boar camp she was heading to. It awed her that the woman seemed to be walking fearlessly near the camp. She neared the woman, and pretended to run right into her.
“Oh, my dear,” Fren said, clutching tighter to the sack she carried. “I am so, so very sorry. Dear, please, don’t go any further this way. The Boars are right ahead. I’m just a slave. I really must get going.”
Then, Fren scurried away -- except now she was clutching two crude spears with glass heads. As she grew closer to the entrance of the camp, she glanced back foolishly to see if the woman had any suspicion.
There was only so much Alexander could do to save a person from losing their battle with the greater strand of the Canilo virus. Truthfully, there really wasn’t much that he could do. His most recent patient was a tall, gangling, blond teenager who was just beginning his third week of infection. The boy’s name was Colin Evon, and had not long been rescued after barely surviving a mauling by a bear during his assigned hunt. The crude stitches on his rib cage were still present as he lay shirtless, and near lifeless, on the infirmary’s cot, shivering with fever.
“Please,” he begged. His lips were chapped and bluish, his voice cracking with the whispers of death. “I-I’m so cold.”
“Your fever is too high,” Alexander frowned without turning, knowing what the boy wanted. From a small refrigerator, he retrieved a bottle of cold and presumably clean water before returning to Colin’s side. “I can’t give you the blanket right now, okay? Here, drink this, you’re horribly dehydrated.”
The cold water was spat weakly out of the boy’s mouth the exact second that it entered. Growing weary from his tireless efforts at helping this hard-headed teen, Alexander let out a heavy, pointed sigh.
“You have to drink,” he said, “or you’ll only die faster.”
This elicited no further response from Colin, other than the fact that he weakly turned on his side, away from Alexander, who let himself out of the room immediately after. If the boy didn’t want to be helped, then there was nothing he could do to help him. It happened like that a lot with patients that came in who were gravely ill. Most of them had suffered some kind of previous trauma or loss anyway -- everyone had. There were a lot of things that a lot of people couldn’t handle, people who let it suck the life right out of them. Alexander refused to be one of those people. He’d literally been personally dealing with death since his first year of life.
Besides, he reasoned with himself, there are too many males in the area. We can afford to have a few die here or there.
Lately, there had been an increase of deaths caused by the greater virus. It was becoming a huge concern within the Saint camp, as the virus was becoming more and more difficult to contain. Most people were able to sit it out, and didn’t seem liable to acquire it again. However, there was still quite a few people who were dying from the illness. People who were dying slow, painful deaths, with seemingly no symptom relief no matter how Alexander treated them. He remembered his first year in the camp -- he’d caught the virus himself.
Maybe, he wondered, this has been going on since before I got here. Maybe this is why they were so quick to accept me.
The thought puzzled him for but a moment before another patient was knocking on his door.
@CLIW
Fren was in a hurry.
Assisting in murder was not something she was new to, however it was still something that got her adrenaline pumping. And quite frankly, she was getting too old for this. Though, most of the younger men just couldn’t resist the chance at having a bit of fun with an older, experienced woman. It was usually the younger ones who had a bit of money, which would have been passed down from parents to children. They were also the easiest to seduce.
But as Fren grew older, she began seeing the young men more as children. Having sex with and then helping murder individuals who she saw as children was seriously weighing on her conscience, not that she’d had much of one anyway. There hadn’t be a recent job she’d done that didn’t make her feel ill afterwards.
As she ran down the remnants of what was once a road, she clutched a potato sack full of chems, weapons, and ammo. There was a woman directly ahead of her, traveling with a small dog of some sort. However, also directly ahead of her was the Boar camp she was heading to. It awed her that the woman seemed to be walking fearlessly near the camp. She neared the woman, and pretended to run right into her.
“Oh, my dear,” Fren said, clutching tighter to the sack she carried. “I am so, so very sorry. Dear, please, don’t go any further this way. The Boars are right ahead. I’m just a slave. I really must get going.”
Then, Fren scurried away -- except now she was clutching two crude spears with glass heads. As she grew closer to the entrance of the camp, she glanced back foolishly to see if the woman had any suspicion.
Lenna Ross
-Basics-
Name: Lenna Alexandria Ross
Age: 48
Gender: Female
-Survival-
Faction: The Bears
Gear/Weapons:
- Bears soldier uniform armor
- Bears service rifle
- Personal garments
- Ample ammo
Skills:
- Shooting (major)
- Tracking
- Running
- Sneaking
- Cooking
Powers:
N/A
-Other-
Personality:
Lenna keeps to herself unless called after. She has a lot of advice to offer to the younger soldiers, although all of it might not be useful or valuable. Although she is a huge risk taker, she presents significantly great leadership abilities.
History:
When Lenna was born, she did not possess a single defect, illness, or mutation. The Bear doctor who delivered her was completely astonished at how healthy she was. Her parents both possessed the lesser strain of the Canilo virus, yet Lenna did not have a single trace of it in her system. In her early years, she seemed to be more advanced than her age, and learned at a much faster rate than the other children. Her parents took pride in this, and enrolled her in the local school a year early. It didn’t take much time for her to form friendships with the other children, which would come in handy later on down the road.
Being a woman, Lenna was discouraged from joining the Bears’ army as an infantry soldier, and instead more encouraged to do something along the lines of medical attention or cooking. Ever defiant, she resisted, and went on to make it through basic training. When she was still freshly enlisted, she kept her hair short, but later took to growing it out and styling it in a bun.
By the time she was thirty years old, Lenna had achieved the highest rank for a woman -- Colonel -- and also became the commander of the second brigade. During that time, she noticed two younger girls who appeared to be apart of a separate group watching the Bear soldiers as they trained. They would show up occasionally, and then every day, inching closer to the base until Lenna decided that they were becoming too suspicious and too nosey. She confronted them. It led to a friendship between her and the two girls based off of mutual respect.
However, when Lenna was still only a fresh recruit, she experienced an injury that caused her to go blind in her left eye. It was suggested that she quit, and go on to something less dangerous, but she was ever persistent. The memory of her injury seems vague now -- as if she's tried to block it from her mind.
While under the stress of being a commander, she lost contact with her parents, who eventually died of old age and relative illness. Her mother went first when Lenna was 34, and her father then died when Lenna was 38.
Etc:
Currently stationed at a Californian outpost.
@Krinos Solstice Very interesting character! I see no mistakes, so feel free to move her over to the character tab. :)
@Overlord24 Accepted. ^.^ Move on over to the char tab.
We currently only have four members. IC posts may come soon, but more people are encouraged to join.
Theme Song: Better Off Dead by Z.Z. Ward
Name: Fren Bleas
Age: 42
Gender: Female
Faction: The Boars
Gear/Weapons:
Skills:
Powers:
Strong bones.
Personality:
A very outspoken individual to be a Boar woman. She is very vengeful, and has a huge lust for power. Despite this, she can be a very kind woman and will help someone who she is positively associated with.
History:
In the Boar camps, the women are silenced and treated like objects, even if they are a member of the Boars’ ranks themselves. Fren was born to a slave and a Boar soldier, nearly dying during birth. The man who delivered her disposed of her as they do the other sick or dying infants -- away from the camp for the mutated animals to feed on. However, her mother managed to sneak out of the camp long enough to retrieve her. Fren was raised in secret, and as she got older and learned more about her birth and infant years, she silently questioned why her mother did not leave the camp when she had the chance. Nevertheless, she obeyed the commands of the men, who didn’t seem to notice never seeing her as an infant or a toddler -- not that they cared.
Fren defied the Boar men in every way that she could. She was often beaten and taken advantage of for her bullishness, but it didn’t slow her down. In fact, as she got older, she learned to use her appeal to get what she wanted. By the time she was eighteen, Fren had worked her way to being considered “one of the men.” Often times, she was sent out to copulate with a wealthy man, kill him in his sleep, and steal his valuables. If the man had a wife or children, Fren would notify the other Boars, who would come to capture them as slaves.
During her time as a Boar, Fren has never been proud of what she does. However, it is the only way of life she knows. In that way, Fren considers herself wiser than the others. She knows that she can’t escape -- but she knows that what she does is wrong.
Etc:
N/A.
Fren Bleas
-Basics-
Name: Fren Bleas
Age: 42
Gender: Female
-Survival-
Faction: The Boars
Gear/Weapons:
- A neatly folded, clean, blue sundress kept in a suitcase with nothing else.
- A duct-taped machete
- An unidentified pistol in deteriorating condition
- Ample, rationed ammo
Skills:
- Tracking (major)
- Hiding
- Running
- Sneaking
- Pick-pocketing
Powers:
Strong bones.
-Other-
Personality:
A very outspoken individual to be a Boar woman. She is very vengeful, and has a huge lust for power. Despite this, she can be a very kind woman and will help someone who she is positively associated with.
History:
In the Boar camps, the women are silenced and treated like objects, even if they are a member of the Boars’ ranks themselves. Fren was born to a slave and a Boar soldier, nearly dying during birth. The man who delivered her disposed of her as they do the other sick or dying infants -- away from the camp for the mutated animals to feed on. However, her mother managed to sneak out of the camp long enough to retrieve her. Fren was raised in secret, and as she got older and learned more about her birth and infant years, she silently questioned why her mother did not leave the camp when she had the chance. Nevertheless, she obeyed the commands of the men, who didn’t seem to notice never seeing her as an infant or a toddler -- not that they cared.
Fren defied the Boar men in every way that she could. She was often beaten and taken advantage of for her bullishness, but it didn’t slow her down. In fact, as she got older, she learned to use her appeal to get what she wanted. By the time she was eighteen, Fren had worked her way to being considered “one of the men.” Often times, she was sent out to copulate with a wealthy man, kill him in his sleep, and steal his valuables. If the man had a wife or children, Fren would notify the other Boars, who would come to capture them as slaves.
During her time as a Boar, Fren has never been proud of what she does. However, it is the only way of life she knows. In that way, Fren considers herself wiser than the others. She knows that she can’t escape -- but she knows that what she does is wrong.
Etc:
N/A.
@ClocktowerEchos Looks good. Make the machine gun useless, replace the ram, and make sure that thick skin of his doesn't make him indestructible, and you're great.
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