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Post by Deleted on Aug 30, 2016 21:19:06 GMT -5
this thread is for myself and a small group of friends, and is therefor closed to joiners. it may one day be open though! it's not private, so feel free to say hi.
Premise: uhh i'll write something here later
Factions: -Monster Hunters: small bands of hunters trainer to capture and kill previously human monsters. Often belong to villages that have begun to spring up in the wilderness. Believe that monsters must be kept in control for the greater good of humanity. Pro-advancement.
-Ferals/Antis: groups or individuals who roam the wild, looking to stop the hunting of monsters. Most are anti-civilization, and want to stop villages and governments from destroying the wilderness. Believe that monsters should be cured, and that history will repeat itself if man advances too far. Note: some may live in settlements, although most do not.
-Neutrals/villagers/civilians: Individuals unaffiliated with the hunt or stopping it. Operate on their own personal agendas and beliefs, may be wanderers or may be tied to townships.
Members: -Gojira -June -Verbatim -Sorrel -Paraodx -December
Characters: -Emmett- Hunter (gojira) -Alair- Anti (june) -Ollister- Hunter (verbatim) -Mahtab- Hunter (june) -Darwin- Neutral (june) -Kaelen (sorrel) -Misha- Hunter (sorrel) -Raphael (paradox) -Fox (paradox) -Theron (Paradox) -Marshall- Anti (gojira) -Marie- Anti (december)
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Post by Deleted on Aug 30, 2016 21:27:09 GMT -5
burns this rp to the ground
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Post by Deleted on Aug 30, 2016 21:27:58 GMT -5
can i be a mod im like the most responsible person here probably
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Post by Deleted on Aug 30, 2016 21:28:39 GMT -5
Select Your Characters
and then help me select mine
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Post by Deleted on Aug 30, 2016 21:29:49 GMT -5
probably alair bc im socialist trash and then the other is maybe mahtab, maybe june depending on the rp
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Post by Deleted on Aug 30, 2016 21:31:05 GMT -5
im feeling mahtab bc i sorta wanna reform her character, n i like her hat but also theres kamar, darwin, REMI theres remi whoa do i wanna do remi idk man
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Post by Deleted on Aug 30, 2016 21:32:23 GMT -5
remi is a disaster
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Post by Deleted on Aug 30, 2016 21:34:09 GMT -5
/im/ a disaster, sig
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Post by Deleted on Aug 30, 2016 22:03:50 GMT -5
aaAAA im gonna use.... Ollister and aybe some more undecided characters later on
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Post by Deleted on Aug 30, 2016 22:08:26 GMT -5
YES!!!
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Post by Deleted on Aug 30, 2016 23:18:14 GMT -5
darwin, mahtab, and karl marx himself
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Sapphic
sorrel
>:3c
Pronouns: she/her or they/them
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Post by sorrel on Aug 30, 2016 23:55:14 GMT -5
[wf forumer voice] can i join
i'm using kaelen and misha ? maybe 1 more l8r if we need someone who isn't a jerk
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Post by paradox on Aug 31, 2016 0:31:10 GMT -5
ok so i (finally) decided that i'll be using rafe, fox and some new guy called theron 0:
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Post by Deleted on Aug 31, 2016 0:35:15 GMT -5
so first, mahtab is struck my lightning and is given super powers. sadly, when hse gives misha a hug, she kills her. this is the tragedy part, she kills with her hugs bc lightning shoots out of her long, long, looong fingers
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Sapphic
sorrel
>:3c
Pronouns: she/her or they/them
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Post by sorrel on Aug 31, 2016 0:42:40 GMT -5
sounds legit. let's do it
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Post by Deleted on Aug 31, 2016 11:22:41 GMT -5
so i was thinking the group of monster hunters are being funded by some sort of ruling power? and not in a malicious way but sorta like "yeah we'll get you stuff if you hunt monsters and keep humanity safe, but we wont control/restrict you or anything"
and then the other ppl who are like "bruh we need a cure" ??? idk where to put them but maybe they work on the basis of capturing the monsters or trying to free them from squad's traps/hunts ??
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Post by Deleted on Sept 1, 2016 12:48:30 GMT -5
Mahtab's schedule, as most people's schedule, had changed to match the rise and fall of the sun. Most mornings she must've been up around six-or-so in the previous world's time, sitting outside their camp and staring round-eyed at the horizon in waiting for everyone else to rise as well. Her black hair, which rested just above her shoulders, had a black rabbit-furred hat slouched over it; she wore mostly cloths upon cloths to keep warm with, coupled with a pair of brown furred boots. A sword rested next to her that contained more grooves and cracks than what could be counted, a dull sort of sheen to it flickering across it's blade as the sun peeked out against a cool gray sky and blackened evergreens. She had on glasses too, ones that were originally two separate pairs cut in half and melded into one for the sake of matching her exact prescription: strangely, it worked, even if they were somewhat lopsided on her nose.
Mahtab glanced back to the others curiously, and eventually stood up to make her way to a fire pit that lay to one side. Next to it was a sort of chest that contained dented pans, mismatched silverware, and other goods they'd managed to scavenge out of age-old wreckage. Of course even canned food had long gone bad, so most breakfasts she resided to preparing hens' eggs; of course she didn't mind being the temporary chef (the role handed to her whenever she was first to awaken- a frequent gift) and even smiled faintly and hummed to herself as she started a flickering spark and waited calmly for it to turn into a blaze. Their day would go, most likely, as it usually did: eat, run a patrol, save humanity. The 'save humanity' part was often riddled with its own countless excursions and trials, but if not them, who else would do it?
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Sapphic
sorrel
>:3c
Pronouns: she/her or they/them
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Post by sorrel on Sept 1, 2016 13:56:18 GMT -5
Cutting through the winding paths and towering piles of debris cast aside in the wake of whatever draining crisis had struck the world in the years before their current perch, a biting wind dragged Misha out from sleep. She grimaced inwardly, pressing her soot-streaked face into the ragged blankets she had buried herself in the night before. She knew winter was coming, same as she knew each year when it froze the scorched earth, but that knowledge didn't make the cold any better, nor did it put food in her mouth or blankets on her back. No, that responsibility was up to her. With an audible groan, she slunk further into the pile of patched quilts and hastily sewn burlap bags, grasping for a shred of comfort. The night was lost, though, and she was back in the brisk and bright morning. She emerged from the pile with a high-pitched moan and a catlike stretch that landed her, hunched, on her feet. She pulled on her boots.
"Mornin'," she said loudly as she stepped out of her yurt, voice like straw. She glanced around and spied Mahtab by the fire. She took a quick step towards her, eager to complain to someone.
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Post by Deleted on Sept 1, 2016 13:57:23 GMT -5
didy ou seriously just bold winter is coming
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Sapphic
sorrel
>:3c
Pronouns: she/her or they/them
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Post by sorrel on Sept 1, 2016 14:15:44 GMT -5
yeah and it's sig's fault
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Post by Deleted on Sept 1, 2016 14:15:51 GMT -5
Emmett had been aimlessly wandering the vicinity of their current campsite. He went to bed late and rose early, a bad habit he had a hard time removing from himself which was betrayed by dark, ashy circles under his eyes that contrasted against his rich skin tone. He shivered against the early Autumn breeze that brushed against him, thinking bitterly that the cold months would soon be upon them- which meant food would be scarce and the monsters they hunted would run rampant in the night hours. The thought chilled him to the bone, and he found himself keeping a hand near his hilt (which held twin butterfly swords) in case something were to appear from nowhere. He was by no means a nervous person, in fact quite the contrary: he was usually rather mellow and un-bothered by stressful situations, but he wasn't stupid either and knew to keep his guard up if he wanted to survive.
He ventured over towards the campfire, offering a nod and a small smile to Mahtab and Misha. He lowered himself to the ground near the flame, and suddenly realized just how hungry he was. Meals were a luxury when you lead this kind of life style, and even something simple like rice or berries wasn't to be taken for granted. "Have you made anything for breakfast yet, chef Mahtab?" He asked, doing his best to seem cheerful.
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Post by paradox on Sept 1, 2016 18:19:46 GMT -5
Paranoia and the distrust of both the environment and other people had driven Raphael to subconsciously sleep with one hand partially outstretched towards his longsword. The sword that looked as though it belonged in the medieval age was practically taller than he (although, admittedly, it wasn’t such an astonishing feat to reach) was a reliable weapon in his hand, especially combined with the years of self-defensive training that he had once been convinced was a waste of his parents’ time and money, but none of It exactly kept the creeping night terrors out his head. There were nights – and even some days – where he felt crazier than the man who called himself Fox (whom he was half certain had spent at least a third of his life in a psych ward and then the rest of it being the so-called assassin he called himself) and Raphael often found himself feverishly seeking for something that might ground himself back into reality. His hands were severely bruised from his use of butterfly knives and so he had resorted to harshly pressing in on his own injuries in order to convince himself that he wasn’t quite dead yet.
The cold morning air biting at his skin had alerted his foggy mind that now would be the time to properly wake up, but given that he hadn’t had the best night’s sleep, Raphael was reluctant to actually open his eyes. It was almost a childish endeavor, stubbornly clinging to the few minutes he had left to sleep in. “I hear something about breakfast?” An eager, grating and Jersey accented voice had called out far too loudly (it had taken far too long for Rafe to figure out how a Mexican had more of a Jersey accent that he did a Spanish one but once the man had complained about his white New Yorker father once too many times, it was easy enough to chalk it up to a mixed heritage). A frustrated sigh left Raphael’s mouth, eyes finally fluttering open at nothing in particular as he waited for his mind to kick back into gear. His bones ached, a dull pain settled in the palm of his hands from subconsciously pressing at his wounds, his eyes were heavy and his chestnut hair was in a state of disarray; Raphael felt far older than he actually was. After another lingering second or so, the man finally started his morning routine. It was more than likely a ridiculous and useless habit to spend time into fixing his hair and attending to his overall appearance but old habits died hard. And right now, it felt like the only aspect of his life that he still had control over in an ever-changing, erratic world such as this one. Raphael needed the stability, anyway and keeping track of his appearance wasn’t really too bad of a choice, even if it only heightened the typical “pretty, rich boy” vibe that he gave off.
Fox rarely slept if ever; his mind an active one and the daylight or lack thereof held no effect over that aspect. Even while under the few spells of slumber, his body remained restless through kicking, his mouth mumbling words of its own volition and jerking awake after the nightmares lingered a little too close to reality. Most nights he would just lay wide awake to watch the night sky shift into a sunrise or would steal a couple of Rafe’s butterfly knives to throw at actual butterflies (he was a better shot, anyway). This lack of proper sleep rarely ever seemed to affect him, holding little if any damper on his abilities. Once the others had awoken and a faint chatter had broken the night’s interlude, Fox had tied the black eyepatch over the gaping gash where his right eye was supposed to be, adjusted accordingly to hide away the grisly sight then rolled over out of his makeshift bed aka a bundle of blankets and quilts he may or may not have stolen off of someone else before wandering out to meet the others, speaking the very words that had woken up Raphael. His question of a morning meal still remained but now he was beginning to suspect that something might need to be hunted first. It must have been mere hours since he last shot something dead but already the itch was affecting his restless fingers, drumming the bandaged digits against his leg in an eagerness to fire an arrow. God, he missed guns. Missed bullets, the smell of gunpowder and pulling an actual trigger to listen to the explosive sound of a firearm going off; all actions that he associated to getting paid rich bucks. The bow and arrow he was now regularly equipped with worked fine and all (although, he wasn’t too certain how much ‘saving all of humanity’ paid, especially after paper money was basically obsolete now) but…God, he missed guns.
Fox was aware that Raphael was still in possession of one but it was a garnished, heavily engraved to the point of being rendered practically useless – more so an ornate artifact than a weapon but Fox often found himself stealing it off just to feel the weight of a magazine-fed pistol in his hand again. In all honesty, Fox would give up sell of his own team and his right eye if he still had it for a long-ranged sniper rifle with a shiny new scope and sleek silencer. But until that opportunity came, he was more or less content to settle for arrows over bullets. For now, anyway.
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Post by Deleted on Sept 1, 2016 23:42:40 GMT -5
[tiptoes in]
Matt said he told you guys I might join, so I hope this is okay?
If it's cool, I think I'll use Marie. I feel like she'd make a good anti. I might make a hunter later, but I'm not sure who to use yet.
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Post by Deleted on Sept 2, 2016 0:02:57 GMT -5
(( [waves] hello!! i'll get you added to the front. you can jump in whenever :0 ))
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Post by Deleted on Sept 2, 2016 17:25:56 GMT -5
hey december! 0: welcome aboard ))
Mahtab perked up as she saw everyone else arise, a cheeky sort of glint in her near-black eyes as she watched Misha arise, looking as chilled and unhappy with the weather as ever, next being Emmett, whose nature foiled the former's entirely. Perhaps she shouldn't have looked so pleasant herself with the arrival of a new day, a step toward winter and a step away from the warmth of a near sun, but she simply couldn't help herself; the end of the world had already come and gone, certainly they could all look to the future with gratitude in their hearts as the newest and therefore most fortunate generations. Their parents' tales of survival were dark, and their grandparents' tales were unimaginably so; she could therefore never consider herself anything but lucky, not a survivor but instead simply one of the many continuing to rebuild. Now we carry the flame. She reminded herself with a twinge of hushed excitement.
"Morning." She responded to the others', her voice quiet and agreeable. Mahtab opened her mouth to respond to Emmett when Raph interjected, making her roll her eyes a little. "Eggs." She confirmed, raising her voice somewhat so that the third of their group could hear, then added: "We don't have much, but they'll go bad if we don't use them now. We're lucky- let's just make the day a big one." They didn't have many, four to be exact which she rolled over in her dirt-caked fingers, but it was certainly more than they were used to. Storing them was no problem either- the world was cold enough to keep them good for days at a time. Laying the pan into the flames, she cracked each one and watched in apt interest as the gooey contents fizzled and turned a soft yellow, helped along by her occasionally prodding at their 'breakfast' with a stick.
Mahtab clenched her teeth as a whistle of freezing air flew past their camp, cold enough to water her eyes and make her tense while waiting for it to pass.
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Post by Deleted on Sept 2, 2016 17:43:17 GMT -5
Darwin was up bright and early with little happiness in the days' beginning, his chin resting lazily on the curve of his palm as he stared out at the slow awakening of the rest of the village. He ran a shop there with a few of his buddies, usually taking up night-shift for himself, however on that day the both of his co-workers had decided to shove the earliest job unto him due to the near freezing conditions of the weather. Who exactly would be out in the chill to buy meats and other mismatched supplies was completely beyond him, but keeping the shop closed simply wasn't an option- they worked on a barter system, and if even one person decided to come by with an inconceivably valuable item it would be Darwin's fault that they missed out on it due to a late start.
Still, this didn't mean he couldn't complain.
He blinked his light brown eyes tiredly, his brows slanted sharply downward with his frown following a similar sort of curve; one of those dreaded 'monsters' likely looked more approachable than he, though anyone who knew Darwin for even a minute would realize he was all bark and no bite whatsoever.
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Post by Deleted on Sept 2, 2016 18:35:45 GMT -5
(Thanks! Also I'm not sure if her backstory entirely works with the verse, so I'm just gonna wing it a little, but tell me if I need to change anything! Basically, her family is a mixed group of hunters/village people who support hunting, and after a while, she was like, "I need to go become a forest SJW," and she ran away.
Also, hi! [waves])
Marie roused slowly, squinting against the harsh rays of early morning light pushing through the trees. She curled deeper into her blanket, and for one brief, halting moment, she let herself believe that she could wrap herself up and let the comfort swallow her whole. Then, reluctantly, she steeled her nerves, kicked the blanket aside, and opened her eyes.
Even after all these months, waking up alone was like a gap in her teeth that her tongue couldn't stop prodding - foreign, unmovable, somehow empty. She caught herself missing her family at odd moments, in fragments so small that she couldn't possibly believe that they mattered. Sometimes, the wind would catch the trees just right, and she would think of her older cousin, his head thrown back, his eyes on the sky, his throat so bare and vulnerable that she couldn't tear her eyes away. Sometimes, she'd stumble across a flower, and she'd remember her little sister, with her nimble fingers and her soft smile, braiding flowers into her hair. In her first month in the forest, she'd come down with something, and as she'd laid awake shivering, all she could feel was the ghost of her mother's hand against her forehead, whispering words she couldn't quite make out.
But now her cousin was away shedding innocent blood, and her family was advocating for the slaughter of people who couldn't help what they'd become, and she had to remember that none of them were as wise or as innocent as she had thought they were. Her heroes were unmasked, capeless; she couldn't believe she'd ever trusted them so blindly.
Like every morning before this one, she pushed the thoughts aside. You made the right call, she reminded herself darkly, pushing up into a seated position. Now stop thinking about things that don't matter.
Distantly, she noted the rumbling of her stomach. Her breath ghosted out in a frustrated white puff, and she dragged herself to her feet, gathering her things and hoping quietly that she'd get lucky with finding a meal today.
You're doing the right thing, she told herself again, just for good measure, but at that moment, the thought felt as empty as her stomach.
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Sapphic
sorrel
>:3c
Pronouns: she/her or they/them
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Post by sorrel on Sept 3, 2016 16:40:06 GMT -5
[hi december!]
With a haughty shrug of her bony shoulders, Misha regarded the pan. She had never been a "fan" of the food slopped together in bowels of their makeshift camps; mostly, she was content to gulp down all the rot and sand and bits of cartilage that came with these masterfully crafted meals without letting them touch her tongue. Still, it was food, and she wasn't in a place to complain. It wasn't as if she had a frame of reference for anything other than a standard wasteland meal, and, after all, Mahtab's current undertaking wasn't anything to scoff at. She slid to her knees with a thud as the patched fabric of her pants met cold stone and packed dirt. She edged towards the fire, peering into the pan with bleary red eyes glistening in the firelight. She gave Mahtab a curious look. "Who's eggs? Like a little bird, or a hawk or somethin'?" She paused for a moment, then continued on with a hint of a smirk overtaking her pale lips. "Or are monsters layin' eggs now?"
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