The Republic: A Player-Driven RP
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The Republic - Chapter 2
[small][sub](GM: Fraught)[/sub][/small]
Sander kept walking. The crowd had already disbanded, with a few recently-acquainted faces walking past him, people he had seen running or being scared within the crowd. The whole city was quiet. A distant noise emanating from a multitude of far buildings. This is a perfect evening to walk outside, Sander thought.
The population had already gone to sleep, and the only real noise that was present there, was the sound of his feet hitting the ground in a methodical fashion. The muddy ground muffled his steps, but he could hear them clearly. The silence made it seem louder.
Walking through this dark city, Sander looked at the buildings. The architecture was odd, as many houses in the district he was were similar to medieval middle-east buildings. Houses were shaped like cubes, which had a pyramid on the roof, with a small hole on the top, to let out the smoke from the furnace. The days were hot, so furnaces saw no usage. At this moment, though, that the air got colder and colder, trails of smoke began appearing from many of these pyramids.
The sky - though shielded by smoke - was beautiful and full of stars from where you could see it. A pledge for more worlds it had been.
Now that the world is in such a chaotic state, we can never reach the stars, Sander thought.
Turning his head towards the ground again, he noticed a lone legionnaire. The man was huge, his shoulders like bouldering rocks on top of a huge hill. His legs like two huge trees, hanging firmly on a buffed torso. The thoughts of Sander were all romanticized. The man didn't reach those epic proportions, but he was majestic in his physique.
Sander looked at him for a short while passing him. The man, in his brown coat looked angry, even though there was no reason.
"A bad day, maybe," Sander thought out loud, but silently enough that he thought the man didn't hear him.
Walking past him, Sander reached an intersection. The times raiding around the wasteland that he found televisions, he looked at everything that was there. When he found a book, he took it with him, and read it to the end. His favourite ones he even kept, even after he found the Republic.
Due to that, Sander had images of the old world before his eyes. Streets and intersections he associated with cars. There were no sidewalks in the Republic, which Sander thought odd. People walked all over the wide roads that could easily fit three cars standing next to eachother.
He took a turn to the right, towards the city centre, which was also towards where the incident with the person who they called Hood took place. He thought the man had already gone to wherever his shelter was.
His shelter? Sander thought. Was there one? Was it in the Republic? Somewhere farther? Did Hood have two aliases? Did he wear a hood to conceal who he was at day?
As Sander got paranoid, he started walking slowly and carefully, aiming to not make any noise. He heard a few steps far, far away, which seemed to get closer. Sander could identify the general direction from which the sound came from, but it seemed odd. He didn't seem to be where Sander thought he was. The sounds weren't coming from a house, they weren't silenced by the walls enough.
Speaking of walls, Sander thought. It sounds exactly like someone's walking up on the roof. He stood near a house, carefully positioning himself between the window and door of a building. When the sounds seemed directly overhead, Sander quickly popped out, to find a man preparing to jump, who suddenly stopped - barely avoiding falling off the edge - and looked at him.
"Hey, uhh," Sander said, nervous.
"Hood?"
[small][sub](GM: Fraught)[/sub][/small]
Sander kept walking. The crowd had already disbanded, with a few recently-acquainted faces walking past him, people he had seen running or being scared within the crowd. The whole city was quiet. A distant noise emanating from a multitude of far buildings. This is a perfect evening to walk outside, Sander thought.
The population had already gone to sleep, and the only real noise that was present there, was the sound of his feet hitting the ground in a methodical fashion. The muddy ground muffled his steps, but he could hear them clearly. The silence made it seem louder.
Walking through this dark city, Sander looked at the buildings. The architecture was odd, as many houses in the district he was were similar to medieval middle-east buildings. Houses were shaped like cubes, which had a pyramid on the roof, with a small hole on the top, to let out the smoke from the furnace. The days were hot, so furnaces saw no usage. At this moment, though, that the air got colder and colder, trails of smoke began appearing from many of these pyramids.
The sky - though shielded by smoke - was beautiful and full of stars from where you could see it. A pledge for more worlds it had been.
Now that the world is in such a chaotic state, we can never reach the stars, Sander thought.
Turning his head towards the ground again, he noticed a lone legionnaire. The man was huge, his shoulders like bouldering rocks on top of a huge hill. His legs like two huge trees, hanging firmly on a buffed torso. The thoughts of Sander were all romanticized. The man didn't reach those epic proportions, but he was majestic in his physique.
Sander looked at him for a short while passing him. The man, in his brown coat looked angry, even though there was no reason.
"A bad day, maybe," Sander thought out loud, but silently enough that he thought the man didn't hear him.
Walking past him, Sander reached an intersection. The times raiding around the wasteland that he found televisions, he looked at everything that was there. When he found a book, he took it with him, and read it to the end. His favourite ones he even kept, even after he found the Republic.
Due to that, Sander had images of the old world before his eyes. Streets and intersections he associated with cars. There were no sidewalks in the Republic, which Sander thought odd. People walked all over the wide roads that could easily fit three cars standing next to eachother.
He took a turn to the right, towards the city centre, which was also towards where the incident with the person who they called Hood took place. He thought the man had already gone to wherever his shelter was.
His shelter? Sander thought. Was there one? Was it in the Republic? Somewhere farther? Did Hood have two aliases? Did he wear a hood to conceal who he was at day?
As Sander got paranoid, he started walking slowly and carefully, aiming to not make any noise. He heard a few steps far, far away, which seemed to get closer. Sander could identify the general direction from which the sound came from, but it seemed odd. He didn't seem to be where Sander thought he was. The sounds weren't coming from a house, they weren't silenced by the walls enough.
Speaking of walls, Sander thought. It sounds exactly like someone's walking up on the roof. He stood near a house, carefully positioning himself between the window and door of a building. When the sounds seemed directly overhead, Sander quickly popped out, to find a man preparing to jump, who suddenly stopped - barely avoiding falling off the edge - and looked at him.
"Hey, uhh," Sander said, nervous.
"Hood?"
So, Sentinel10, that legionnaire was you, and Sparrow, let's say it's you I met. I'm not sure if making you stop before you jump off a building is character controlling, but I had to do it to even meet your character. I thought it'd be the right time to encounter someone, and let someone else participate. 
Since I'm supposed to be the GM of this chapter, I thought that I can take as many liberties with the world as I want, except for controlling other characters. So yeah, the Republic doesn't have cars or sidewalks. Since, you know, who'd drive a car through the desert to the Republic? And let's just assume that no one capable of buildings cars at random is in the Republic currently.
Hood looked around. The source of the speech was obvious, as nobody else was around. He found it curious that anyone would try to address him, given his status as a trouble-maker in the city.
He knew the man. After all, Hood knew almost everyone that lived in the Republic. Even the people that were not supposed to.
"Sander Harrison. Male. Aged 19. Employed as a creative writer.", he said, hopping down from the building, "I think we've met."
He knew the man. After all, Hood knew almost everyone that lived in the Republic. Even the people that were not supposed to.
"Sander Harrison. Male. Aged 19. Employed as a creative writer.", he said, hopping down from the building, "I think we've met."
"It's amazing how much you can learn by simply watching.", Hood said, ignoring Sander's questions, "And in a place as small as the Republic, all you have to do is have some spare time and a good memory to know everything, about everyone."
He turned away from Sander, seemingly to stare down a nearby alley.
"Was there something you wanted?"
He turned away from Sander, seemingly to stare down a nearby alley.
"Was there something you wanted?"
"No, not particularly," Sander said, glancing at where the man was seemingly looking.
"I'm pretty new her-I mean, you probably know that. All this time I've not had the chance or thought of askin-I mean, you probably know that already too," he said, playfully half-mocking the man.
"I mean, what's your story? Why were you up on that wall? Was it you who shot a gun there? Why?"
"I'm pretty new her-I mean, you probably know that. All this time I've not had the chance or thought of askin-I mean, you probably know that already too," he said, playfully half-mocking the man.
"I mean, what's your story? Why were you up on that wall? Was it you who shot a gun there? Why?"
"That's not exactly free information. My job is only possible because of that very reason: nobody knows anything about me. Maybe that'll change one day, but I doubt it."
Hood looked over his shoulder at the man for a few seconds, before turning back to look at the alleyway.
"I'm here for something important, but it'd go over your head. It'd go over most people's heads. Sometimes even I don't understand what I should be doing next. But if you need something, I'm here every night at this time. Just don't go spreading it around."
After a few seconds of thought, Hood finally made his way down the alleyway. It was dark enough to conceal his entire body from view, his figure slowly disappearing as he made his way further into the alleyway.
Hood looked over his shoulder at the man for a few seconds, before turning back to look at the alleyway.
"I'm here for something important, but it'd go over your head. It'd go over most people's heads. Sometimes even I don't understand what I should be doing next. But if you need something, I'm here every night at this time. Just don't go spreading it around."
After a few seconds of thought, Hood finally made his way down the alleyway. It was dark enough to conceal his entire body from view, his figure slowly disappearing as he made his way further into the alleyway.
Job? Sander though to himself. Is it his job? What is his job anyway? To cause mayhem? Who pays him, and if no one, how does he earn a living? Is he also a thief?
Sander's life was lived hand in hand with questions. Questions had plagued him since he was born, and few were rarely answered. But he knew that was both advantageous and disadvantageous to him. Questions that went unanswered, he answered himself. Results he improvised, always shifting towards what he wanted them to be.
"Every night, same place, eh," Sander quietly said, turning around, to face emptiness. Not literal emptiness, though.
"Hood was wise to pick this place," he said to himself, noticing how the houses nearby were all either inhabited by early sleepers, or had been yet to get inhabited.
The city was silent once again. The faint footsteps of a pair of rubber footings far, far away. Sander continued his walk, noticing how suddenly a light was lit in one of the nearby houses. A boy pulled open the curtain, and smiled with glee. Sander looked back at him, and smiled too. After all, he knew the boy. It wasn't his relative, far from it. Sander had never seen or known none of his relatives. No, this was merely a friend of his.
Being around him, Sander often felt like a kid. He was surprised that someone as mature and emotionally traumatized as him could ever manage such a bond with a kid. He was the one thanks to who Sander kept himself happy living in this world. He was also the one who he often thought of whenever he spent time behind his desk, writing, or drawing something.
Sander waved to him, followed by a brief scratching of the head.
He pushed on, not intent on staying long enough for the boy to come out. The city is guarded, Sander thought. But rules are rules, after all. He knew the boy's parents well, and that is specifically why he didn't want to disappoint them.
As Sander entered the next intersection, he felt dizzy. It felt like he was poisoned, but he knew he wasn't.
I couldn't have, Sander thought. But could I?
Stopping his thoughts, his attention suddenly shifted to the pain in his left shoulder. With a burst of his last strength, he swiftly arched his hand behind his back, failing only mere centimetres before the spot, as his hand fell. It was completely faint, as was his other, right hand.
Slowly trudging over the intersection, half-way over the road, he fell. He fell onto the ground, trying to scream, but his mouth wouldn't move. His entire body was under trance, and his eyelids weren't able to close themselves. As he saw the foot of a man before his eyes, the lids finally fell close, remedying the pain he endured without enough moisture on his eyeballs. In the blink of an eye, he was asleep.
Sander's life was lived hand in hand with questions. Questions had plagued him since he was born, and few were rarely answered. But he knew that was both advantageous and disadvantageous to him. Questions that went unanswered, he answered himself. Results he improvised, always shifting towards what he wanted them to be.
"Every night, same place, eh," Sander quietly said, turning around, to face emptiness. Not literal emptiness, though.
"Hood was wise to pick this place," he said to himself, noticing how the houses nearby were all either inhabited by early sleepers, or had been yet to get inhabited.
The city was silent once again. The faint footsteps of a pair of rubber footings far, far away. Sander continued his walk, noticing how suddenly a light was lit in one of the nearby houses. A boy pulled open the curtain, and smiled with glee. Sander looked back at him, and smiled too. After all, he knew the boy. It wasn't his relative, far from it. Sander had never seen or known none of his relatives. No, this was merely a friend of his.
Being around him, Sander often felt like a kid. He was surprised that someone as mature and emotionally traumatized as him could ever manage such a bond with a kid. He was the one thanks to who Sander kept himself happy living in this world. He was also the one who he often thought of whenever he spent time behind his desk, writing, or drawing something.
Sander waved to him, followed by a brief scratching of the head.
He pushed on, not intent on staying long enough for the boy to come out. The city is guarded, Sander thought. But rules are rules, after all. He knew the boy's parents well, and that is specifically why he didn't want to disappoint them.
As Sander entered the next intersection, he felt dizzy. It felt like he was poisoned, but he knew he wasn't.
I couldn't have, Sander thought. But could I?
Stopping his thoughts, his attention suddenly shifted to the pain in his left shoulder. With a burst of his last strength, he swiftly arched his hand behind his back, failing only mere centimetres before the spot, as his hand fell. It was completely faint, as was his other, right hand.
Slowly trudging over the intersection, half-way over the road, he fell. He fell onto the ground, trying to scream, but his mouth wouldn't move. His entire body was under trance, and his eyelids weren't able to close themselves. As he saw the foot of a man before his eyes, the lids finally fell close, remedying the pain he endured without enough moisture on his eyeballs. In the blink of an eye, he was asleep.
Yes, yes. That end bit was uncalled for, but I thought of something villainous, and we have to have a threat, a goal to strive for, or a nemesis to kill, right? With Hood, I thought that Sander'd be pretty passive against him, maybe even developing some buddy relations with him along the way. The ones I mentioned in my post, though, are directly involved with Sander, so yeah. They may, or may not, only attack Sander.
If they do decide to cause general mayhem and manslaughter, that is up to whoever GMs the later chapters.
Editty-edit: I also noticed that Hood could be a suspect for what happened to me. But no, Sparrow, don't worry, I wasn't controlling your character. That dude (or should I say dudes? Or dudettes, hmm?) is not you.
But anyway, I'll finish it off for now. I wanted to get something in, but I'll think of something longer for tomorrow. I thought it'd be fitting to end it on a cliffhanger, and, as you can probably predict what will happen, it takes place at night, and he falls unconscious. I wonder where could he wake up? Find out, in the next episode of...THE REPUBLIC!
If they do decide to cause general mayhem and manslaughter, that is up to whoever GMs the later chapters.
Editty-edit: I also noticed that Hood could be a suspect for what happened to me. But no, Sparrow, don't worry, I wasn't controlling your character. That dude (or should I say dudes? Or dudettes, hmm?) is not you.
But anyway, I'll finish it off for now. I wanted to get something in, but I'll think of something longer for tomorrow. I thought it'd be fitting to end it on a cliffhanger, and, as you can probably predict what will happen, it takes place at night, and he falls unconscious. I wonder where could he wake up? Find out, in the next episode of...THE REPUBLIC!
An amusement park. A lone clown.
Sander was a new man, wearing a gray suit, in a big city. This was not The Republic. This was not the world he lived in. Everything was normal. Houses were intact, the weather wasn't as hot, and there were people everywhere, eating ice cream, walking hand in hand, cars riding everywhere.
Then, suddenly, a man walked to him. He knew the man. He wasn't sure how, but he knew that the man was his friend. Followed shortly behind him was a talking dog. A dog that was trilingual. As a collar was put around its neck, Sander noticed it was him.
It all felt like a dream.
A moment later, Sander woke up in cold sweat, feeling a burning pain coming from his shoulder.
He stood up, and walked to the balcony, looking around for any civilians.
"Hey, is there a doctor nearby?" he cried out to one he saw.
Sander was a new man, wearing a gray suit, in a big city. This was not The Republic. This was not the world he lived in. Everything was normal. Houses were intact, the weather wasn't as hot, and there were people everywhere, eating ice cream, walking hand in hand, cars riding everywhere.
Then, suddenly, a man walked to him. He knew the man. He wasn't sure how, but he knew that the man was his friend. Followed shortly behind him was a talking dog. A dog that was trilingual. As a collar was put around its neck, Sander noticed it was him.
It all felt like a dream.
A moment later, Sander woke up in cold sweat, feeling a burning pain coming from his shoulder.
He stood up, and walked to the balcony, looking around for any civilians.
"Hey, is there a doctor nearby?" he cried out to one he saw.
Anyone who picked civilian at the start of the RP is free to respond.
I'll take this one, gives me a chance to get into this chapter.
I'm assuming that Sander lives in an apartment block similar to Natasha's, on the other side of the street. Is this okay?
I'm assuming that Sander lives in an apartment block similar to Natasha's, on the other side of the street. Is this okay?
Natasha looked up from staring down into the streets from her own balcony as someone yelled out to her. "Hey, is there a doctor nearby?" She scanned the building opposite hers, and found the shouter; a man, slightly younger than her, on a balcony of the third floor of the building opposite hers. She yelled back, "I might be able to help you; I'll be right over," before she ducked into her apartment and frantically searched for the first-aid pack she owned.
She found the pack, grabbed it and hurried out of her building, locking her door behind her as usual. She quickly jogged into the building opposite, and took the stairs two at a time, concerned for the stranger and his problem.
Might be able to help me. I do hope so, this pain is...killing me.
Sander tripped, his fists numb, his eyes sore and hard to keep open, his feet weak and his body shaking.
Something was up, Sander thought. Why would someone attack him like that? And what was it they used, with such long-term effects?
His mind was full of puzzling questions. He quickly tried to sprint to the door, and opened the lock. A moment later, he jumped onto his bed, face down, fatigued beyond belief, as he heard someone run up the stairs.
Sander tripped, his fists numb, his eyes sore and hard to keep open, his feet weak and his body shaking.
Something was up, Sander thought. Why would someone attack him like that? And what was it they used, with such long-term effects?
His mind was full of puzzling questions. He quickly tried to sprint to the door, and opened the lock. A moment later, he jumped onto his bed, face down, fatigued beyond belief, as he heard someone run up the stairs.
Alex trudged down the stairs. Opening the door of his apartment, he went down the elevator and exited the building.
Outside, he saw that a woman was running up the stairs urgently. What the hell is that all about?
He walked on towards the base, where he would just do his job as normal. Nothing else to do, really.
Outside, he saw that a woman was running up the stairs urgently. What the hell is that all about?
He walked on towards the base, where he would just do his job as normal. Nothing else to do, really.
I'm having the same problem as tellmeimaninja, minus the dropping-out part. I have no clue what to do, and Alex hasn't really done anything yet.
Natasha threw open the stairwell door, and ran along the third floor to the stranger's door. She tried the door, and it opened easily to reveal the man lying face-down on his bed.
She quickly let herself in and closed the door behind her, then hurried to the man's side. She put a hand on his shoulder and said, "I'm here. What can I do for you?"
She quickly let herself in and closed the door behind her, then hurried to the man's side. She put a hand on his shoulder and said, "I'm here. What can I do for you?"
"Do...for me," Sander said arduously, his voice muffled by the position of his mouth against the blankets of his resting place. His weakness having multiplied to such greatness that he could not talk well.
"I..don't know...the reason. I...d-don't know the...right medicine," he said, gathering all of his strengh for a final turnover.
But wait, he thought. Why should I turnover?
Indeed, so he did not. His body lay in place, his head turning to the side, eyeing the woman who came to his aid so willingly.
"My...right...shoulder. Pain, pain," he said, as he closed his eyes. Simple physical activities like opening one's eyelids were starting to prove strenuous to him.
"...Help."
"I..don't know...the reason. I...d-don't know the...right medicine," he said, gathering all of his strengh for a final turnover.
But wait, he thought. Why should I turnover?
Indeed, so he did not. His body lay in place, his head turning to the side, eyeing the woman who came to his aid so willingly.
"My...right...shoulder. Pain, pain," he said, as he closed his eyes. Simple physical activities like opening one's eyelids were starting to prove strenuous to him.
"...Help."
Well, the chapters are about one character mainly. And it's actually pretty easy what you guys do. For now, my character is in the spotlight, and the story follows him, mostly. When I end this chapter, the next participant starts and so on and so on. But I'd say you don't have to post randomly while my chapter is going on. When my chapter is over, anyone can write their own chapter, and I think it'd make the most sense if these chapters took place at the same time. Then just the ones that had participated in my chapter would have to think a bit before posting to avoid plotholes.
Well, what I was thinking of when I made that plot point, it was a projectile of sorts. Since this is kind of in the future, you can improvise the shape of it.
But yeah, it's a hole. Something between a bullet and a dart, in size. Also, since this is kind of in the future, I was thinking that the projectile'd had some kind of special concoction on it to avoid any infections from spreading through the wound.
But yeah, it hurts my character alot. And, for now, that's the point.
Also, if you're going to reply, edit your post with just the OOC, as I'll edit mine when I reply. It'll conserve some space, aye?
But yeah, it's a hole. Something between a bullet and a dart, in size. Also, since this is kind of in the future, I was thinking that the projectile'd had some kind of special concoction on it to avoid any infections from spreading through the wound.
But yeah, it hurts my character alot. And, for now, that's the point.
Also, if you're going to reply, edit your post with just the OOC, as I'll edit mine when I reply. It'll conserve some space, aye?
Natasha began to examine Sander's shoulder. A small metallic lump protruded from under his shirt. "I need you to sit up so I can look at you properly. There's something stuck in your shoulder, something metal. We'll need to take your shirt off so I can look at it further."
She prepared to carefully roll him onto his back, so he could sit up and get his shirt off.
She prepared to carefully roll him onto his back, so he could sit up and get his shirt off.
Sander felt the woman's hands on his back. They were soft like silk, as they touched his shoulders, pulling him onto his back. His right hand wiggled for a moment, hitting his stomach as he pulled it back. The weakness was getting worse and worse.
As he was finally pulled onto his back, he set his hands on his bed, ready to push off, but he couldn't. He tried again, but only gained a few centimeters of height.
As the woman grabbed his shoulders, and pulled him into a sitting position, Sander finally started feeling a little bit stronger now that he was in a more vertical position.
"So, tell..me more about..y-yourself," Sander said, making small pauses in between words, which all on their own, though, were spouted out very quickly.
"What do you do for a living?" he continued, intending to fill the void of silence, the idea of which he wasn't appealed by.
As he was finally pulled onto his back, he set his hands on his bed, ready to push off, but he couldn't. He tried again, but only gained a few centimeters of height.
As the woman grabbed his shoulders, and pulled him into a sitting position, Sander finally started feeling a little bit stronger now that he was in a more vertical position.
"So, tell..me more about..y-yourself," Sander said, making small pauses in between words, which all on their own, though, were spouted out very quickly.
"What do you do for a living?" he continued, intending to fill the void of silence, the idea of which he wasn't appealed by.
"My name's Natasha. Natasha West," she introduced herself. "Normally I'm called for when someone needs a foreign language translated, but I feel I'm more suited to acting. What's your name?" She took the hem of his shirt and carefully began to take it off, sliding his left arm out of the sleeve.
"Let me know at any time if I'm hurting you, alright?" she said.
"Let me know at any time if I'm hurting you, alright?" she said.