The Twisted Earth (Post-apocalyptic Role play) (Started - Closed)

[Dectomax]

Note: This a re-start of my RP. The old one was getting cluttered by people leaving and new people wanting to join. It was a successful RP and I'm sure the participants enjoyed it. Whilst this RP is set within the same world/Universe, we are beginning a new storyline, one which I hope you will enjoy.

Ok: Info first:

Spoiler: Background

So long after the nuclear war, the cities stand utterly empty. The high-rises, blasted until only skeletal remnants of black steel remain, are now vacant. This was once a world populated by seemingly endless masses; streets in these ancient centers were clogged with cars, buses, and trains. Under the sun of that peaceful era, each day saw millions living their lives, unknowing of the destruction that was to come. Bankers, lawyers, politicians, and the average man; all were oblivious to his coming fate, powerless to prevent the fiery death that awaited him. Now, in the aftermath, those few who cling to life in this twisted, irradiated landscape are nothing like the civilized race that came before. They are survivors, one and all, born of a time when the concepts of mercy and cooperation are all but alien to them. For them, each day is a struggle for resources. One man snatches scraps of meat from the carcass of some animal left by larger predators, unable to find food on his own, the rot of the decaying flesh does little to churn his impoverished stomach. Elsewhere, a desperate man digs frantically from a shallow pit in the endless wastes of desert for a handful of water. To him, particles of sand and soil mean nothing when the fever of thirst kicks in. And beyond the horizon, there are many more watching and waiting.

Spoiler: Character types

Spoiler: Mutants

MUTANTS:
In the scarred and ravaged landscape of the new World are survivors?survivors that have been tempered and altered over generations through exposure to gamma and ultraviolet radiation, insidious poisons and chemicals, into creatures of a nature previously unknown. These survivors have, for the most part, come to adapt to this devastated world through mutations of their own genes. The wars that destroyed mankind left behind massive amounts of radiation and chemicals, which facilitated the mutation of all living things; plants, animals, and humans alike are forever changed and no longer resemble what they once were. Radiation has quickened the process of evolution, and the resulting mutations range from simple birth defects to bizarre and hideous deformities.

Mutants can choose what ever of the character types they wish. ( Please list Mutations in the character sheet! ) For every Good mutation, please give yourself one bad mutation, to make sure it remains fair.

Also, make sure it's not stupid-o-silly, You must be humanoid, you must retain a Human shape or form. Mutations always have a physical give away, even if it's just the eye colour.

"TRIBALS"
The tribal character comes from a primitive community, probably dominated by a central family figure or group of close-knit family heads. Technology in such a culture is generally limited to what a man can do with his bare hands (animal skins for clothes, stones as tools, etc.). Caves are the most likely shelters for this type of community, though some might possibly use burnt-out vehicles or some other ?shell of the Ancients? (without any knowledge of its former use, of course). Warriors typically form the upper ranks of such a community, as they alone can protect it. The tribe would tend to frown upon pursuits not directly related to survival, seeing them as wasteful and capricious. Science and non-religious art would be considered worthless in such a group.


"RITUAL PRESERVATIONISTS"
Characters of this background come from communities who know how to use the technology of the Ancients but have lost the understanding of why that technology works. Advanced electronics and weapons, though still usable by the community, are viewed as religious relics or treasured artifacts and are sometimes even worshipped. Communities of this type are generally led by their scientists, who only barely manage to keep the technology running sufficiently to wow the masses. Technology that is destroyed cannot be replaced, as these people only know how to use the stuff, not repair or recreate it.

"DEGENERATES"
Communities of this type were once?often within recent ancestral memory?capable of fully understanding the technology and culture of the Ancients. Now, however, due to circumstances such as constant war, civil unrest, or a communal need to focus on other aspects of survival, the community has degenerated. A Degenerate community is able to utilize the stuff of the Ancients, even their language and culture, but has lost all sense of context. Very few citizens remember much at all about where this technology and knowledge comes from. Such communities are generally on the decline, and will at some point likely break up or fall apart.


"RESURRECTORS"
Communities of this type are rediscovering the technology of the Ancients and are beginning to understand the true nature and uses of Ancient devices. They are able to re-activate computer systems, robots, power stations, vehicles, etc. More advanced communities of this type have even developed the know-how to repair and maintain such technology. With the right tools, members of these communities can not only make repairs to many advanced devices, but also fabricate advanced munitions and advanced electronic parts. The situation for such a community is getting closer to the way things were before the Fall, but there is still a long road ahead.


"VISIONARY REINVENTORS"
This type of community has moved beyond simply surviving or reassembling pieces of the old world. They are beginning to invent a new future for themselves. Instead of repairing the lost technology of the Ancients, these communities are beginning to create their own technology and build their own civilization. They are developing and using such things as basic metalworking, steam engines, and ingenious but simple devices to not only complement human effort, but also sometimes replace it (steam-powered machines to harvest large amounts of crops, for instance)


"GUARDIANS"
These rare communities are the self-styled guardians of all things Ancient. Such communities fully understand the culture and technology of the Ancients and utilize it to keep the upper hand in the wasteland. They can create, repair, and use advanced energy devices whenever the resources are available.


"ADVANCED"
This type of community has, for whatever reason, managed to avoid the ravages of nuclear war and the ruin of civilization, not only preserving the technology and culture of the Ancients, but also improving upon it over the years. Such exceedingly rare communities will often have even more advanced technology than the Ancients possessed, giving them an increased advantage. Such groups generally scorn the Ancients for destroying the world and consider them weak, ignorant, and even primitive in comparison to themselves. Many communities founded by artificially intelligent life forms are of this type.

Spoiler: Map of the land

Spoiler: Where the game starts

Crux is a ruined image of the former city of Sacramento. Many miles of the outer city are nothing more than ruins, filled with scavs and mutants, wanting to stay away from the ruthless mercenary gangs that control the "intact" portion of the city. The city itself is split, between the merchant families, The Foundation and numerous gangs.

The biggest of the gangs in Crux are the "Strontium dogs". A ruthless and militaristic group, run by a man known as Balthazaar. They control the biggest portion of the city and are based around the Ziggurat.

The Merchants operate in another section of the city, safe in their walled compounds. Whilst they are not aggressive, they have the means to protect their goods and land.

On the outskirts of the inner-city, a small Foundation outpost has been constructed. "Outpost India". The Foundation are descendants of the US military, focused on accumulating technology. Whilst they are a military force, many of the foot soldiers are just tribal's and civilians stolen and given basic training and equipment. The biggest threat comes in the form of the Knights and Paladins. Armed with high tech laser weaponry and various sorts of power armour, they are a force to be feared.


The lands around Crux are predominately wastes. Though, to the north lies a settlement called Willows, a city with the only reputation worse than Crux. It is a dirty, plagued, hell hole. Passers-by are warned to avoid it at all costs.

To the East, lies "Coleman's river", a small meandering river with many ruined settlements left standing, a treat for any scavenger. To the north of this river, terrible storms have been spotted, thunder and lightning, acid rain capable of eating through even the toughest cloak in a day and rumours of a crashed "Airship" lost to the wastes.

Spoiler: Character sheet

Name:
Age:
Gender:
Type:
Mutant Y/N:
Mutations (If applicable):
Appearance:
Gear (Weapons/misc):
Clothing/Armour:
Profession:
Bio/History:

Spoiler: Game info

No matter what your character is or where you come from, our adventure will start in the criminal filled, festering hole that is Crux ( Sacramento ), so please note to include how you got there in your character sheet.

When choosing equipment, please refer to your character type, is it suitable and would it be practical for that character? The type is important, as it gives you a major basis for how other NPC's will interact with you and how you can interact with the world.

Please refrain from killing each others characters, feel free to get confrontational and fighty, but any deliberate attempts which have no reason behind them...will meet the GM's Hammer 'o' Doom. An example of the "Hammer 'o' doom would be: "Bob shot bill...because he was bored..." GM intervines...Just before the shot was fired a whale landed on Bobs head killing him instantly." ( Ok, so that's a bit silly, but you get the point. )

Also, please remember this is a post apocolyptic setting, you do NOT have unlimited ammunition, so please state clearly how much you have for your chosen weapon, if you choose to use a gun, maybe three or four magazines at maximum?

Other references:
The ancients, are "The people who came before, they are those who lived before the war.
The Good man, God.

This is a Hero driven, free-form Role play, you can choose what you want to do and how you do it, largely. At some point's I may direct you, or, guide you in a specific direction for story purpose's but on the most part, this is your adventure and your world to play in and to do what you want with. There is a "Storyline" as such to play through, but again, how long this takes and what will happen as the story progresses is up to you, the players and the choice's you make on your way through.



Please only comment if you are posting a sheet, or if you are interested in reserving a space, this helps avoid filling the thread up with junk.

Also, when it begins, please out of common courtesy, put any character sheets in spoiler tags.

IMPORTANT: VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV
STORY HAS NOW BEGUN - PLEASE PM ME ANY SHEETS IF YOU WISH TO JOIN.

User group:
http://www.escapistmagazine.com/groups/view/The-Twisted-Earth

 

[Irony's Acolyte]

Repostin' my sheet to show anyone who decides to jump in who I'll be playing as.

Spoiler: Kreth

Name: Kreth

Age: 26

Gender: Male

Type: Tribal

Mutant Y/N: Y

Mutations: Like all in his old tribe, Kreth has several mutations that were caused to the tribe's activities. Kreth's eyes are more sentistive to light than most human's allowing for better vision in areas with less light. The flip side to this is that bright light can be painful to Kreth and can easily blind him, leading to those in his tribe to all were strips of dark cloth over their eyes when outside during the day or near light sources that are brighter than most would consider dim. Kreth's sense of hearing and balance also seems to be above average, but at the expense of his senses of touch, taste, and smell which are near useless to him. Kreth also displays the common trait of his tribe of having a rather hyper-active metabolism. This allows for quicker, more agile movement as well as feats of strength that seem above average for the thin build of Kreth. Kreth's increased activity level means that he must eat more than most people, mainly meat, and sleep on a strict pattern. His bouts of sleep are also very deep, in which it can be very hard for him to be awakened from due to outside factors. Failure to meet either of these demands will lead him to become rather sluggish and slow-thinking.

Appearance: Kreth is rather lean and lanky, but possessing no fat on his limbs, only muscle. Kreth's skin is rather pale due to his rather nocturnal activity cycle and his eyes posses larger than normal pupils. He does not display alot of obvious male characteristics and is like much of his tribe rather androgynous looking at a quick glance. His hair is a dull light-brown with flecks of grey beginning to appear through, another sign of the rather active body systems that is common in the Crucible. He keeps his hair short as well as his sparse facial hair. He also has several noticeable piercings and scars on his bare skin.

Gear: Two curved long-knives and a re-built crossbow. Kreth usually carries about 25 bolts for the crossbow with him, with only 6 being of fine quality. The rest are crude copies built from scavenged material.

Clothing/Armour: A collection of patchwork rags and leather clothes and armor. The pieces of his shirt and pants appear to have once belonged to a variety of different outfits, but have been sloppily covered in a layer of red-brown or dark grey dye. His leather armor vest and leg-guards are similarly dyed. None of Kreth's clothes are particularly tight, but also not very baggy; they give his limbs room to move but are close to his skin to avoid being caught easily. He also carries a strip of dark grey clothe which he uses to help protect his sensitive eyes from bright lights while also being able to see through.

Profession: Scavenger/hunter/bandit

Bio/History: Kreth came from a rather primitive tribe living in the wastes. Like most tribes, technology is scarce and only the most influenciential members have access to any ancient technology (even then they might not be able to properly use it if at all). Kreth's tribe is known simply as the Crucible due to it's harsh social structure. The main public rule of the Crucible is "might makes right". There is a second, less public, but no less important rule though that states "If you can't figure out how to obtain it, you don't deserve it". This leads to a very status-focused society with prestige and power being directly linked to how much own can claim with their own hands, whether through shear power or cunning. There are 5 "families" that rule and squable for power amongst themselves, though one leader, known as the Over-man (or Over-woman if female), rules all through a combination of brutal strength, deadly cunning, and clever manipulation of the families. Members of the Crucible (which is all they are known as) are tought from an extremely young age to do all they can to progress up the social ladder, but at the same time, obey those more powerful than you. This means that inferiors will often serve their suprieror very faithfully, that is until they see a opening. While the tribe is quite old and has survived for some time, it is currently in the decline due to increasing number of orderly settlements that take issue with the Crucible's main source of power - raiding and pillaging. For many years the members of the Crucible managed to survive by scavenging what they needed and taking what they wanted from others, violently if needed. With most nearby settlements becoming capable of properly defending themselves, the Crucible has been in decline for some time now and the society looks close to imploding.
Despite the values of the Crucible being well ingrained into Kreth, he still showed signs of undue commitment and mercy at times. At the age of 18 it was found out that he and a girl (Geara) were rather intimate with each other, unusual for the cut-throat society of the Crucible where marriages are partnerships above all else. One of the family heads treatened to reveal the couple to their respective supierors if they did not swear full loyalty to her. Both Kreth and Geara refused and were forced to fight their way out. Geara was killed in the escape attempt and Kreth just barely made it out. Knowing that he was no longer safe in his tribe (as safe as one could be in the Crucible) Kreth made his way out into the wilderness to feed for himself. He currently wanders around scavenging and hunting what he can and selling items people will find valuable for what he can't. In desperate times he has also taken to prey upon lone wanders he happens upon.
Still, the wild has changed Kreth, causing him to be less violent and scheming. In a social setting with order such as a town or village, he will do his best to keep from himself and avoid upsetting the locals. He will be rather honest with those he feels deserve it and does not lightly cross those who have done him a favor. In the wilds on his own though he will often resemble his old self, focusing on his survival and well-being over others'.

So obviously I've established a bit about the tribe so far, with it being a rather brutal and cut-throat group with a shifting balance of power. The members aren't nice and while will act loyal to those above them for the most part, are always on the look out for a nice back-stab for "promotions". Each member has limits though, so it is not rare for members to swear loyalty to another more powerful person so that they will by extension gain some of their master's influence. The master will in turn gain another follower and more social influence. Marriages are for convenience and power only and children outside of marriage is not frowned upon. Children are had to gain more influence as a child can be the most loyal of followers. It can be a risk though as the child's loyalty might be split between it's parents and can choose one over the other. Children have also been the usurper for many member of the Crucible, and so are still keep a close eye on by their parents. Women and men are considered equal as men only have a small advantage in strength (which is only one way to power) and women can help to produce a child for others.

The five "Families" (which are more a loose collection of blood families) constantly work to gain power over each other and the favor of the Over-man/woman. They do not directly fight one another; but sabotage, murder, theft, rumors, and "accidents" are common tactics in the war for social influence. Most members are allied with one family or the Over-leader; because without support, a member is helpless to the whims of those around him (which is one of worst situations to be in the tribe). The Over-leader upon taking power (by somehow usurping the previous one; direct combat and assassination are a favored tactics) will often break ties with their old "Family". The only reason why they will be able to do this and expect to survive is due to their network of supporters they will have built in their rise to the top. Being the Over-man/woman is the most powerful position (as they some power over each of the families) but the most dangerous as nearly the entire Crucible is aiming to take their spot. Over-leaders never retire, they die or in very rare cases striped of their title and banished.

The Crucible's dealing with outsiders is usually much more straight forward. Random strangers will be set upon and robbed/killed for whatever useful goods they have. Villages only survive raids so that they can continue to be a profitable target for future raids. Powerful groups will not be harassed directly, but subterfuge will be taken out against them to weaken them. Some communities will occasionally be able to find a happy medium, keeping weak enough to not warrant being a target but strong enough that any action taken against them will be too costly to undertake. Limit traded will occasionally happen between these communities and the Crucible, but like the members of the tribe, it is a constant struggle to keep the balance.

The culture of the Crucible is very bare and brutal. Most focus on vertical movement along the social ladder or figuring out who to brutally murder for necessary items like food. This means that artists and scientists are very few and far between. This had keep the society of the Crucible rather simple in terms of culture and technology. Display of power is about as important possessing it, if not more so. This means that trophies are common as well as body modification. Due to the weakened sense of touch (and in extension pain) in all members; scarring, tattoos, and piercings are a common sight in the tribe. Coupled with the rather slap-dash clothing and armor creation process of Crucible members, they can have a very brutal and frightening appearance.

There is no formal law and order within the Crucible; if you can pull it off you are allowed to do it. This does not mean that there won't be repercussions though, which means that the constant threat of retaliation is the only that keeps the "peace" in the tribe. There are very few things that are frowned upon in the Crucible; rape, murder, slavery, theft, drug use, hedonism and cannibalism all just a part of life. There are very little in the way of cultural holidays in the Crucible, the main ones being the beginning of Spring and the end of Fall. These events are "celebrated" with wild parties in which much can happen; alliances are made, backs are stabbed, plots carried out, and positions taken. For the most part though these are two of the few times that the general tension leaves and most members will relax and simply have fun with eating competitions, friendly fights, tale-telling, orgies, and wild dancing.

Another interesting part of the tribe is the common mutations that have taken root in the society. Due to their like of night raids (and night activity in general) the eyes of the members of the Crucible are much more sensitive than the average human's. Their hearing is usually above average as well. Their hedonistic and tension-filled lifestyle has also help lead to greatly increased metabolisms. This allows for great bursts of energy, leading to Crucible raids to be short and brutal affairs. Members will usually also seem constantly on-edge and passionate. They generally don't do things half-assed and will throw their whole effort into a task. Their high-stung lives has a great price though, as food and water are needed in much greater quantities as well as sleep to help fuel this sort of constant activity. They seem to age somewhat faster as well once they pass puberty. They seem to live about 60 years max, but due to the lifestyle often don't make it past 40.

I look forward to the RP starting back up again. I wasn't in it for long but it looked like it would be great fun!

 

[Dectomax]

Characters accepted:

New and improved list - Edited due to drop outs and new comers! Correct as of: 19/01/12

Spoiler: GM's

Name: Marcus

Age: 20

Gender: Male

Type: RESURRECTORS

Appearance: Marcus is a well built, if short man. He stands at roughly 5"8, with broad shoulders. He has short, dirty blonde, hair. His eye's are a light blue. Even at this young age, Marcus wears the look of a man who has seen the wastes.

Gear (Weapons/misc): Steyr Aug (150 - 5.56mm ) Glock 17 (60-9mm) Combat knife, backpack filled with survival goods.

Clothing/Armour: Marcus wears a drab shirt, with a ballistic vest over the top, over the top of that he wears a simple brown leather jacket, his jeans are torn and dusty, and fall just over the top of his combat boots.

Profession: Guide/Military

Bio/History: Marcus was born to a farming community, hidden deep within a mountain pass, he was born to a poor family and spent many of his days exploring and helping the hunter gatherers of the small village, he learnt many useful skills during his time and quickly put them to use, becoming an efficient hunter. As he grew older, Marcus branched out wanting to see more of the world around him. During the night, he gathered a few belongings and ran, it wasn't long before he was picked up by passing traders who happily put his skills to use. As he travelled between towns and cities Marcus befriended one of the older Merchants, who's advice and wisdom intrigued Marcus. On his eight-teenth birthday, the traders "released" him from their service, giving him a small token of their appreciation for his hard work. A steyr Aug. Marcus treasured the weapon as even he knew the rarity of such a device in these times.

After leaving the Traders, Marcus found himself in Crux. It was here where things went wrong. Trying to liberate some of the poorer citizens of the city, Marcus crossed paths with Balthazaar. The head of "The Strontium Dogs". The trouble Marcus caused, warranted him being hunted. Though Marcus had the skills to evade and kill some of them, Balthazaar had more resources. After tracking Marcus down, He gave him an option; to do some work for him in return for his freedom.

Spoiler: Mortis

Name: Xeno
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Type: Advanced: The community, from which Xeno is from, survived the great nuclear apocalypse in deep underground bunkers and were originally a covert biotechnology branch of the United Government. Their primary goal was to develop a new breed of super soldiers for the Great War and thus they were sheltered from the public?s eye. After the end of the world the scientists decedents were weary to enter the hostile post apocalyptic world and in their isolation found continuing the work of their fore fathers the only purpose and escapism that could keep both the fear and madness at bay.
Mutant Y/N: Yes

Mutations (If applicable):
Powers:
Xeno has an unnatural immunity to disease as well as the unique ability to manipulate his 'blood'. Due to his control over his blood he can coagulate severe cuts preventing blood loss and even minimizing damage taken to the body. It also aids in correcting blood flow autonomously and in the reattaching of limbs. However this requires a great deal of concentration and is impossible to maintain during combat. Finally is the Sanguine?s increased erythropoietin level in the body. This ultimately means that when it would take months to rejuvenate the amount of blood loss during combat it takes Xeno mere weeks.
Deficiencies:
His flesh and muscle, after years of being subject to high levels of radiation, have a habit of tearing if he over exerts himself to the point where his limbs may fall off.

Appearance:
Xeno is a tall individual standing at about 1.95 metres. However, Due to his low body weight he could hardly be called an imposing figure. His skin is deathly pale white and covered in the scars of various experimentations and surgeries performed him. His face, round, innocent looking and, unlike his body, remains 'relatively' untouched by the slice n dice surgeries of his past. It does however wear two symmetrical stitch scars from the corners of his lips about halfway up his cheeks, macabrely accentuating his smile. His large eyes a steely grey with specks of red where the pigmentation failed to fully develop. His hair reaches the base of his neck, is pure snow white, unkempt and curls upwards with black tips giving a feathered-messy look with a fringe in the front that masks his eyes.

Gear (Weapons/misc):
- A scalpel that hangs around his neck by a thin wire, like a necklace.
- Morphine
- Antibiotics
- Bandages
- Immune-o-Boosters
- Surgical wire

Clothing/Armour:
His clothing includes an undone, crumpled straight jacket with a bloodstained Lab coat over the top of it, the arms of the straight jacket are baggy and extended well beyond the cuffs of his coat. He wears equally baggy black cargo pants that are tucked into large, grey combat boots fastened with 2 metal buckles with black straps. Over his shoulder hangs a black doctor?s bag filled with an assortment of supplies.

Profession: Medical Practitioner
Bio/History: Xeno was a being hand crafted in the Advanced community from which he hailed, he was one of many attempts (And only successful one) to replicate human DNA entirely from the amino acids upwards in the hopes of restoring the human race to its once glorious state, In short: The first entirely man made man.
Xeno?s body was subject to a plethora of genetic experiments before he was transferred to the Haemokinesis body modification project A.K.A "Sanguine". These prior tests came back with some amazing results. His pain tolerance was profound and his metabolic rate was well above average. However the most intriguing results stemmed from his 'Maculate origin'. He, through extensive engineering, possessed both a heightened intelligence and immunity to all diseases catalogued before the nuclear devastation.
His time in 'Sanguine' lasted well over 4 years and revolved around a new form of genetic modification. It involved the replacement of normal human blood with an advanced haemoglobin based life form (Sanguine) that was developed as a prototype experiment before the bombs fell. The liquid organism expanded upon all the natural properties of normal blood as well as harbouring an ability in which with correct electro-chemical commands, it could be manipulated and forced to seal damaged tissue.
The project was mostly a failure with almost all test subjects being lost to infection, it was soon revealed that the substance itself was riddled with unique pathogens that bound the organism?s molecular structure and sterilization rendered the makeup of the Sanguine unstable. The only test subject that managed to survive the painstaking transfusion was Xeno due to his unnatural immunity.
This left only one test subject on the Sanguine project to survive the first stage of the experiment and only one chance to complete the experiment. The second phase of 'Sanguine' was to graft a mechanism to the heart known as "The Conduit". This new organ secreted a chemical compound into the cardiovascular system that would flow through the 'blood' and could be electronically stimulated via commands from the nervous system. This would allow the host to control the Sanguine at will as well as autonomously correct flood flow.
Xeno survived the grafting process. However the project itself was a complete failure. The only survivor was an unrepeatable exception and the product was deemed incredibly unstable and toxic.
After the fiasco of "Sanguine", the advanced community deemed Xeno a failed experiment, a waste of valuable resources and ultimately confined him to the "Genetic Rejection Chambers", He was 10 at the time. The chambers in the simplest terms, was merely a section of the labs in which the radiation of the outside world was confirmed to have seeped into. Ironically enough it was in this corner of the labs that the Ancestors of Xeno?s community had stored their most developed technologies when the bombs fell thus resulting in a well of untapped knowledge that could have aided his community in its endeavours
Xeno would have surely died had these supplies been retrieved from the asylum that his community had confined him to. But, through the aid of his prodigal intellect, the various holodiscs and books in this section of the labs he had learnt to speak and expand his mind into wonders that the scientific field had to offer. His studies of medicine had allowed him to maintain his health, Engineering had kept him preoccupied in the void of isolation and genetics helped him comprehend what he was ... and what was happening to him.
Despite this miraculous development it had come at a cost. Xeno's body was deteriorating. The excessive radiation had damaged his muscle and flesh and it was common in his late teens for Xeno to perform surgery on himself to reattach limbs. Thankfully however, the Sanguine allowed this process to be a rather simple and menial task as it corrected blood flow and sealed the wound autonomously. Another issue that had grown in Xeno was an abnormal personality built up over years in solitude. Xeno?s persona was a difficult thing to pinpoint. He presented himself in a carefree and childish manner however behind this lay a very inquisitive and methodical mind. On a more sinister note Xeno appeared to have developed an unhealthy fascination in anatomy that has manifested as a desire to dissect and 'tinker' on living "specimens". A particular trait Xeno appears to have adopted is a constant smile that almost never fades, even in the direst of situations.
On his 18th year of existence Xeno's life was upset by a series of events that even to this day he cannot truly recall. He remembers that his community was attacked with explosives and projectiles, that there were flames of different colours as the chemicals ignited. The screams of the people that had ostracized him as men in tattered garbs tore them to ribbons and the cold dark world around him collapsing down in the pile of rubble. He remembered rising from the damaged ruins in a sea of carnage to view the majestic sunlight that hang above him aloft in the skies juxtaposed by a vast nihilistic wasteland stretched before him.
Xeno spent the Next year of his life roaming the wastes, studying those that call this harsh world their home and learning what he could about how they viewed. For what purpose, Only Xeno knows.

Spoiler: Ashe

Name: Ashe

Age: 18

Gender: Female

Type: DEGENERATE

Mutant Y/N: No

Appearance: Ashe stands at a average height of 5'9 but years of living off the wastes has made her skinny and her hands dirty and grubby from constant scavenging. Ashe has a slight bend in her neck making her appear to have a hunch. One could call her beautiful if she tried but those days are gone for her. She has short brown hair in dreadlocks almost covering a tattoo of a black sunflower on the lower part on the back of her head. Freckles dot her round face and as a birth defect she has a cleft on her lower lip. Her eyes are a green color but due to a case of Congenital heterochromia(a genetic disease) her left eye appears to be a light hazel in sunlight.

Gear:
-One extremely worn out H&K MP7A1(50 rounds-4.6×30mm)
-Pocket knife
-toothbrush(bottom is carved resembling more of a pointed end)
-Messenger sling bag
-8inch Crowbar
-Binoculars
-One rusted 6 inch Colt Python-more of an intimidation weapon(7 rounds-.357 magnum)



Clothing/Armor:
Ashe wears a worn down and hole filled blue Hooded sweatshirt but underneath she wears a black, ripped, tank-top. She has discolored cargo pants that used to be a woodland camouflage and cargo boots on her feet with one hole on the sole of the right foot although Ashe used what was left of her duct tape to seal it shut. Ashe's gloves are also dirt-colored from a black, leather color. The fingers have been cut out yet somehow everytime Ashe pulls them off her entire hands are still dirty. And a red bandanna covers the bottom of her face when needed.

Profession: Runner/Scavenger/former make-shift assassin

Bio/History:Born to a ruthless warlord heading a growing force of bandits Ashe used as any other weapon used by the lot. Her mother was reluctantly married to the warlord to stave off his terror. Her mother was incredibly beautiful and managed to convince the man to halt his sword against her community but sadly it only worked for a short time. When Ashe's mother died giving birth to her all bets were off and the community of only a few dozen people were slaughtered in front of Ashe in her father's arms. For years Ashe had to endure her father's physical and mental abuse. Her home was an armory abandoned by the Ancients with her childhood toys being firearms and explosives.

Then the day came that her father decided to add his own daughter to his arsenal. She was offered as a gift to another Bandit leader that was of equal strength to her father's own. Ashe was instructed to kill the Bandit leader once he got close to her, alone. Ashe didn't have the choice to decline but before she could say anything the man was on top of her. Fear shocked and paralyzed her. Then her father's notorious anger set in and the Bandit leader was the one unfortunate to feel her wrath. Ashe made her way back to her home with the Bandit leader's head but once Ashe got there, all her anger for her father, all her hatred that she channeled into murdering the Bandit leader dissipated when she saw his devilish smile. All those years of abuse had turned Ashe into nothing more than a lap dog for her father.

Two more times her father had used Ashe. Two more times Ashe's resentment for everybody around her grew. Nobody in her father's gang had bothered to try and help her or even talk to her for fear of diverting his wrath towards them. Ashe grew more detached from everybody around her and soon she barely spoke at all. But that all changed when her home was thrown under siege by a much more better-equipped and better trained army. Fire and brimstone was rained down on the armory and Ashe used this to situation escape. She grabbed as much gear as she could before looking back and seeing heavily armored juggernauts burst through the walls. They wore armor from feet to toe and it was unlike anything Ashe had seen before. Then her own father rushed towards them with his trademark sword pushing them back. Ashe scurried through one of the open windows and ran not looking back on the burning hellhole that used to be her home.

Now the only thing Ashe could do now was survive and run as far away as humanely possible from the armory. Ashe wished and hoped every night before she fell asleep that her father wouldn't be the one that she would see when she opened her eyes.

Spoiler: Blake Rheinhart

Name: Blake Rheinhart

Age: 37

Gender: Male

Type: Ex-Resurrector

Mutant: Yes

Mutations: Unknown to Blake is his ability to heal wounds at an alarming rate. Broken bones only take a week to heal which often causes Blake to assume some sort of sprain; as such, he believes that he's never broken a bone in his considerably dangerous life. Smaller wounds such as gunshots and cuts take only an hour or two to completely heal. Although Blake is not invincible, he has proven to be an incredibly hard man to kill...making sure there's nothing left of him is the only way to ensure he won't come back

The only physical indicator of Blake's mutation is his exceedingly pale skin that never tans. The only discernable drawback to the mutation is that Blake occasionally suffers from episodes of uncontrollable rage that can last anwhere from a few minutes to a whole day. The episodes always end with Blake on his knees, shivering and coughing up blood. He believes that these incidents are a symptom of some sort of disease he has carried most of his life...which in a way, is true.

Appearance: A somewhat short and slight man, Blake stands at 5'6 and at first glance appears to be physically weak. However, his small stature belies a formidable strength. Aside from his strikingly pale skin, Blake has a newly acquired scar - a gift from his "friends" - that runs along the top-left side of his bald head. Conspicuously grotesque, the puckered scar is a testament to Blake's healing abilities, despite leaving a permament ravine running along his head.

Gear (Weapons/misc): Blake has been left with his trusty crossbow with a full quiver of 30 lightweight bolts. Mounted on the crossbow is a makeshift scope fashioned from one half of a pair of binoculars that he found long ago. Recently broken, Blake has repaired the crossbow as best he can with no tools, but it's effectiveness won't be the same until he can find a village to buy the necessary materials. Alongside his crossbow, Blake has been known to employ a rusty hunting knife for close-quarters-combat and - on special occasions - torture.

He also once owned an old Beretta 9mm, but that was stolen. He looks forward to finding the same weapon - or something like it - again some day.

Clothing/Armour: Blake is attired in sturdy walking boots and brown cargo trousers, with lightweight - albeit very battered - combat armour covering his torso. He wears a short, black coat over the top of the armour, usually zipped up to hide his protection. An old scarf and a pair of dusty goggles hang around his neck.

Profession: Used to be a Mutant Hunter, Mercenary, Expert Scout and Raider. Is currently a simple survivor, like many others...

Bio/History: Blake grew up in a Resurrector community, learning how to fix and use the remaining tech of the Ancients and learning how to survive in the hostile environments of The Twisted Earth. At the age of 15, Blake was trained to use a crossbow that his father had fixed up, learning to shoot small pests like the mutant rats that often targeted the food stores. Unfortunately, some unknown illness occasionally affected him, causing extreme rages and painful vomiting of blood that could last for a whole day. Never seeming to prove a major issue, the community leaders deemed Blake's illness as non-fatal and allowed him to continue his life as normal in the village. At 18 Blake was going on daily scouting parties, making sure that no larger mutants were coming into close proximity of his beloved community; he enjoyed watching as the bolts felled creature after creature, relishing in their cries of agony. Killing something so obviously inferior to him was a personal pleasure of Blake's.

At the age of 21, a group of mercenaries stopped by at the village and asked the community leaders if they were harbouring any "mutant heathens". Blake knew their were no mutants in their village, the community was lucky to have escaped such misfortune as mutated humans were known to be problematic and troublesome; Blake had heard stories of whole families being torn apart by the simple birth of a mutant. The community leaders replied that no mutants lived in the village and proceeded to ask why the mercenaries wished to know.

"All our hardships," began a grisled-looking mercenary, "are because of those devil-formed heathens!" Blake stood, transfixed, as the story unfolded: The mutants were not a product of the war-ravaged land and areas of intense radiation, it was the mutants who caused the misfortune of our world. Fighting amongst themselves and destroying whole cities during their petty disagreements, the Good Man had punished the whole of mankind for the arrogance and sins of the twisted devil-forms. "Only until all mutants have been eradicated," concluded the old mercenary, "can the Good Man bring himself to improve our world, this Twisted Earth."

Taken in by the man's convictions, Blake immediately agreed to fight for their cause, much to his entire community's dismay. Refusing to listen to his father's reasoning, Blake gathered his belongings and left with the band without looking back.

As the years went by, Blake quickly rose through the ranks of the mutant hunting gang and gained the approval of the grisly-looking mercenary, Grant. In Grant, Blake had found a new father and held him in such high esteem that he was blind to the brutality of the gang's actions; they destroyed whole villages that failed to co-operate or were found to be hiding mutants, they murdered and tortured women and children with no regards for morality. In the Good Man's name, Blake believed he and his mercenary gang were working towards the salvation of mankind.

At the age of 27, Blake became the leader of the mutant hunters after Grant's death. For 10 years he held his station, diligently travelling the blasted land in search of mutants to slaughter and mutant-lovers to torture. However, the illness that had gripped him as a young teen was becoming worse; his rages would often result in attacks towards his comrades and cause him to question the loyatly of others. One such incident saw him return to his own village with a group of heavily armed men, under the belief that they had been harbouring mutants even whilst he was growing up. He had the entire community killed. Deep inside his own rage, Blake never recognised the cries of his family as he cut their throats...

As a result of this unprovoked attack on a non-mutant community, many of the mercenaries decided to overthrow Blake's leadership. A short, but bloody skirmish was fought whereby all of Blake's followers were killed and he was seemingly fatally wounded by a mighty blow to the head from the new leader - Rico Hortz. Leaving Blake to die, Rico lead the remaining mercenaries away in search of more mutant-killing salvation.

A day after being left for dead, Blake awoke to find his head throbbing and his closest friends dead. Crawling to a nearby body of water, Blake perceived the grotesque, blood-stained and half-healed scar running along his head, and the actions of his mutinous gang came rushing back. Furious, disorientated and hurting, Blake vowed to take revenge.

Having camped by the water and fed on his dead comrades until his head wound had fully healed, Blake fixed his broken crossbow as best he could and made plans to get to the nearest village to find supplies and ask questions.

"Rico," he murmurs to himself on the night before his departure, "you're a fucking dead man."

Spoiler: Shaun

Name: Shaun Pittman (Yet another version of me, hope thats ok with you guys)
Age: 23
Gender: Male
Type: GUARDIANS
When Shaun was a kid, his family was killed, "The Scientists" picked him up and raised him, this has made Shaun used to technology but while he was being raised he has also gone out into the Wasteland with his mentor and knows the ways of the wild. Shaun tries to preserve technology so it can be used for the greater good and tries anything so the technology lies in good hand.
Morality: Independent good,
Shaun was raised, not only by "The Scientists" but also by his mentor, his mentor who was a legendary Hitman in the wasteland, his name was Blake Dred, Blake raised Shaun from when his family was killed, "The Scientists" raised Shaun some part of his life teaching him about technology, but Blake taught Shaun about killing, living and surviving, but most of all he taught Shaun about how to lead his life for the greater good, to help people and to follow one of the old religion, "Christianity". Shaun acts only on the greater good but thinks that most of the left over government are evil and are not fit to lead the survivors.
Mutant Y/N: Yes
Pro: Electricity boost
Con: Water, Glowing eyes
(May change later)
Mutations (If applicable):
Minor electricity boost: Shaun has the power that if he touches a source of electricity he is able to activate a small boost to his strength, speed and reaction timing, but the bad thing about his power is that he cannot touch water and he has a blue tinge to his eyes.
Appearance: Medium Athletic build, 145 tall, 113 pounds, lightning blue glowing eyes, rugged long, light middle parting brown hair, Cross tattoo on back of wrist.
Gear (Weapons/misc): Storm Cutter (A katana with a big backstory), Ebony and Irony (Two sleek silver custom made pistols), 6 bullets - three for each gun.
Other Items: Sling Shoulder Backpack (Think Infamous Cole's bag), Hidden Back pocket knife, lighter, bag of dice, wallet, bike keys, Personal bible, Journal, flask (Full of unknown home made stuff) ,emergency survival kit.
Clothing/Armor: Military Black Shoes, black military pants, military knee pads, bulletproof vest, smart green shirt , dog tags with a Christian cross (with details), computer watch (Which also functions as a radio, basically a pip-boy).
Profession: Former Security Guard
History of power:
Shaun was once a normal human before, this was after all the world turned to crap, he was a security guard and scavenger of a company of scientists from a saved city and he was scavenging one simple day, it was an electrical power station that was used by the scientists before the war to make super weapons or something, the funny part is that they did but all the weapons where all moved to somewhere else, how did Shaun know this, a damn computer that they left on, Shaun went into the next room, it was a room filled with electrical conduits, the worst part was that Shaun accidently pressed the button on the computer terminal to activate a fucking project: Origin, the room makes whatever inside the room turn into an electricity conduit, Shaun did notice it but it was all too late, the double armored doors locked behind him and the electricity conduits started to generate a mass amount of power, Shaun shut his eyes to not look at his demise and muttered "Shit" under his breath and then a massive power overcame him.
Funnily enough Shaun woke up with the white light above making him dizzy, Shaun thought nothing had happened, well thats is until he stepped outside into a damn puddle, and it almost killed him, but he quickly regained his energy by touching a nearby light switch, Shaun doesn't know what was going on, what power he has gained, what the hell water does to him, but he knows that this thing can grant him power.
Shaun then exits the building and walks slowly back towards his secret bunker that they did not know about and muttered "I need a drink" as he entered his hideout.
Background: Shaun was a little 12 year old boy who lived peacefully on a farm all a long time ago, it was nice and peaceful until bandits attacked the farming community, the bandits killed everyone, including Shaun's family, fortunately Shaun was playing in a hay stack and hid when they did attack.
Shaun scavenged his house but only to be introduced to his family member's corpses, Shaun grabbed the fewest thing that mattered to him, it was a personal flask, a harmonica and a Katana that his farther gave him 5 years ago for his birthday and he has practiced everyday since then.
Shaun then walked along the long abandoned highway but only to pass out to due to lack of water, fortunately a scientist group came by him and carried him to their HQ where they groomed Shaun back to life and told him he can live he but only if he can do jobs for them later in his life, Shaun smiled and accepted their offer, he still practiced his sword skills, and he became one of their most trusted security guards and scavengers for them, they awarded him with two custom made pistols and he has also trained with those as well as his sword, all until the day he went to facility 0.
Personality:
Shaun. He likes to be called by his first name or by his two nicknames, Storm and Angel, Angel because his old security team used to call him that or Storm due to his skill with a katana.
You may look at this guy like he is some annoying, lazy man, but truthfully he is actually a guy who is nice on the inside who tries to act like a funny ass who tries to brush problems off.
When people get to know him he becomes a nice, enthusiastic, good at talking to people, trusting, warm and fights for good and other people.

Spoiler: Irish

Name: Miles "Irish" McDermott
Gender: Male
Age: 26
Type: Resurrector
Mutant: No
Appearance: Medium, red-brown hair; very untidy. Scraggly, red-brown facial hair. Blue eyes right under a pair of bushy, red-brown eyebrows. Lightly tanned skin. 6'3", muscular build (as in not a total beefcake but there is clear muscle definition). He has several scars on his forearms and some on his face, a few from burns but mostly from cuts.
Clothing/Armor: Irish wears an old, terribly worn, black relic of a t-shirt that once perfectly displayed the album cover of some obscure punk-rock band. Over the shirt he wears beige-colored, polyester, worn, zippered jacket. He also wears faded, weathered, boot-cut denim jeans that have a tear on the left knee and secured with a brown leather belt. On his feet are a dirty pair of heavily worn, tan hiking boots that are on the verge of falling apart. He has a black scarf around his neck that he raises over his mouth and nose when there's extreme weather conditions or, at times, to avoid recognition. He also wears pair of dark tinted biker goggles that keeps around his neck over the scarf when he doesn't need them.
Gear (Weapons/Items): He keeps a Remington Model 700 built for left-hand firing on a shoulder sling, a .38 revolver holstered on his hip fully loaded with hollowpoint rounds, and a machete sheathed on his back. He doesn't use ammo clips for the rifle so he keeps an ammo sleeve on the stock that holds 5 rounds (he always keeps the sleeve full). He has a bandolier that he wears under his jacket but over his t-shirt for his revolver ammunition.
He lugs around an A.L.I.C.E. pack and the contents in the pack are the following:
2 pairs of pants - one pair of denim jeans, one pair of kakhi cargo pants
3 shirts - one black long-sleeve, two t-shirts (one grey, one beige)
1 sleeping bag, dusty and patched up in a few places
1/4 box of wood matches
1 firestarter kit
1 canteen, 1/2 full
1 reserve canteen, full
1 blade sharpening kit
1 set of ratchets
1 screwdriver set, missing flathead screwdriver
1 straight-razor shaving kit
1 ammo box with 28 rounds of .300 Win Mag rifle ammunition
1 D Cell Mag-Lite
1 pair of wire cutters
1 grooming kit; tweezers, nail clippers, etc.
1 field surgeon's kit
1 pair of pliers
1 lamprey cloak
1 10x10 lamprey tarp
1 small wooden box with a ziploc freezer bag of tobacco and a small pile of rolling papers
1 tackle box filled with various sized bolts/screws/nails as well as wires, electrical tape, and glue. One rack of the tackle actually does hold fishing gear, hooks, weights, line, and swivels.
Other gear:
1 Swiss army knife in his left pocket with the file half-broken and the screwdriver snapped off completely
1 hand-rolled cigarette behind his left ear
1 worn leather-bound field journal he keeps in the breast pocket of his jacket
1 ring of keys attached to his right hip, clipped on one of the belt loops of his pants
1 empty Zippo lighter w/shamrock engraving on the side
18 hollow-point .38 rounds on his bandolier
Profession: Freelance mercenary/courier/escort/(what have you). Former caravaneer. He also tinkers but it's more of a hobby.
Bio/History: Irish was born as Miles McDermott in the Dust Seas Region, in a small township near the Fertile Crescent. He was raised by his Irish mother and father and it had been a fairly stable home. Miles' mother, Ira, was a stay-at-home mom while his father, Alan, was a traveling merchant on a trade caravan. Although Alan never went too far from the township, he was still gone for days at a time. Miles' mother nurtured him well and kept him safe, at least as best she could. Like any other child, Miles made friends in the township and got along well with others. There were times when he'd be caught in a scrap, and he was not often the victor. He quickly learned to hold his own and managed to stand up for himself fairly well. Most times Miles was the one who had started the fights, but he wasn't a bad kid; it was always to defend either himself or some defenseless target for bullying. This, of course, worried his mother because he'd usually come home with blood-stained clothes or a new set of scrapes and bruises. When he had stayed home, Ira took the time to teach him to read and write as well as right from wrong.
Whenever Alan was around, he always told young Miles stories his travels and taught him the essentials of fair trade. Miles aspired to be just like his dad some day, and around the age of 12 he decided he would adventure and scavenge anything that might be tradeable in the surrounding areas. The first few ventures he had come home empty handed, but he was gleaming with pride when he made his first find. He found an old stainless steel Zippo lighter with a shamrock engraved on the side. Miles stayed at home and waited until his father would come home so he could show him his find, never letting go of the lighter, even clutching it tight when he slept. Finally the day arrived when Alan returned home and Miles immediately ran to him and waved the lighter proudly in the air for him to see. Alan was so happy to see Miles so cheery that he didn't have the heart to tell him that it had been his lighter that he'd lost a few weeks before. Miles offered the lighter to his dad, in hopes that he could trade it in his travels. Alan only smiled and told him to keep it, to hold onto it, for it was something special.
Years after, when Miles was 16, Alan decided it was time to teach his boy how to make it by in the outside world. Alan brought him along on many of his travels, teaching him survival basics and allowing to make a few trades of his own, allowing Miles to refine his skills in trade. Whenever food was needed, Alan brought Miles along to teach him how to shoot, how to skin and clean the kill, as well as how to tan his own hides for trade. A couple years later, Miles decided that he wanted to set out on his own and try and follow in his father's footsteps, in more than literal terms. He wanted to start his own caravan in hopes of expanding his father's trade routes and potentially making it a family business. Miles traveled with his father's caravan as far west as they could go, and from there he was on his own.
Miles didn't have the necessary components to successfully start a business so he started off by doing many oddjobs for whoever was willing to hire him. Due to his heavy accent, he became known among his associates as "Irish". After a year or so, he had managed to band together a small caravan of 5 people and was confident that it was enough to start his own trade route. He traveled from town to town, trading fair as his father taught and making it fairly well. He often hired a couple couriers to send letters to his parents to let them know how he was and how his caravan was holding up. He occasionally recieved letters as well and he was always happy to hear from his parents. For years, Irish operated his own trade routes and made his parents proud. Many times Irish's and Alan's caravans gathered for a few days do celebrate and discuss business matters. Irish, as ambitious as he was, wanted to expand their business even further west, as far as Sierra Gehenna. Alan wasn't certain if that decision would be a wise one, but he knew that Irish's ambition and curiosity would get the better of him. He warned him of the dangers that were in that territory, although Alan hadn't ever been that far west, he heard enough to know it wasn't the safest of regions. Alan agreed to it, but only if Irish were to scout the area with a small group beforehand.
Sure enough, he selected a handfull of caravanners and they set out for the west. Unfortunately a recent bandit attack had forced the small group to split up and the only thing standing between Irish and and the rest of his group was a large and angry band of blood-thirsty bandits. He managed to signal the others, telling them to return to the caravan. He would have to find his own way to circumvent the danger. He continued to travel west in hopes of losing them, however the bandits had no intention of giving up the search. They've been tracking him wherever he's gone, it has has forced him to tread lightly and their tactics pushed him off course. Seeing an acid rainstorm in the distance, he had hoped he could lose them there. Keeping covered with his lamprey cloak, he set off into the storm and happened upon a couple of large hangars...

Spoiler: Hamilton

Name: Hamilton
Age:22
Gender: Male
Type: Resurrector
Mutant Y/N: Yes
Mutations (If applicable): Nightvision: Gives him near perfect ability to see in everything but absolute darkness. The improved nightvision has unfortunately resulted in extreme photophobia meaning even cloudy days seem glaringly bright to his unprotected eyes. He compensates by wearing scavenged welding goggles and/or a wide brimmed hat during daylight hours.
Four arms: A second pair of smaller arms that have grown out of the sides of his waist. Aside from being difficult to hide, the arms' growth in a spot where they were never meant to be means they both have poor support and are too weak to be of much use in a fight or for heavy lifting by themselves. The blood flow required for the extra limbs has also put a heavy strain on his heart and if Hamilton overexerts himself he's prone to fainting. When traveling or in the city he hides the arms by keeping them either in the sleeves of his overcoat or keeping them at his sides, hidden under the folds.
Appearance: A plain looking man with a round, friendly looking face and a surprisingly bright, white smile. Of below average height, between 5'5" and 5'7" with well tanned skin and black, curly hair cut short. He's thin, mostly from lack of food, but appears much bulkier due to the buttoned up overcoat made of well worn brown leather. It's obviously several sizes too large and reaches his knees. He wears both a wide-brimmed straw hat and a pair of bulky welder's goggles. If his eyes could be seen they'd be pale grey with pupils large and permanently dilated.
Gear (Weapons/misc): He carries an almost new SIG Sauer P239 9mm with 6 magazines (8 rounds per mag). 5 of the magazines are filled with low quality re-pressed bullets that occasionally fail to fire. The remaining magazine is filled with fresh, unused +P rounds, capable of higher penetration and stopping power than normal, optimal 9mm rounds. In addition to that he also has a wonderbar (Basically a greatly shrunk down crowbar, do a google image search) that is used for both practical purposes and as an impromptu melee weapon, along with a basic set of lockpicks used for entering ruins. He has equipment and tools for the repair of both mechanical and electronic devices but both are too heavy to carry normally and are left at his hideaway. He also carries an ancient subnotebook laptop. Its battery is long dead and he has no way to recharge it. He has never even seen it turned on and carries it more because it was one of the few things he grabbed before being driven from his hometown.
Clothing/Armour: A pair of jeans full of holes and a crudely fashioned shirt of tribal origin, along with the aforementioned hat, goggles and overcoat. For armor he only has a set of SWAT body armor he traded for. Most of the ceramic plates have been removed to reduce weight making the armor much less effective at stopping higher powered weaponry. Both the SWAT armor and the overcoat have had dozens of pockets sewn on in order to carry most of his things.
Profession: Scavenger/technician/de facto merchant
Bio/History: Hamilton lived most of his early life as an orphan in a well protected resurrector community to the southeast of Coleman's River. It was there that he was trained in his community's specialty, repairing ancient technology, and excelled at it. It wasn't until his late teens that his mutations first began to manifest and, despite his best efforts to hide them, he was discovered and run out of his home. Forced out into the wastes and largely rejected from other settlements due to his mutation, he's eked out an existence by scavenging technology from the ruins along Coleman's river. He spends his time repairing the ancient and broken tech to working order in his hideaway on the edge of the northern storm area, and then selling it to the merchants. It's during one of these infrequent trips into the city that he finds himself in Crux. Hamilton is generally shy due to his isolation and, aside from a few of the more mutant-accepting merchants and citizens, has had very little in the way of human contact since he left his community.

 

[Chaos Incarnate]

Spoiler: Delrath- UPDATED

Name: Delrath
Age: 18
Gender: Male
Type: Tribal
Mutant Yes
Mutations: The ferocity and feral of the Kalorik mutatation's can be best witnessed in Delrath, his father a deadly and feared warrior before a rival severed his head and his mother an expert tracker killed during a raid, Delrath inherited both mutations but neither is quite as strong as the original, his bone density is similar to stone which allows him to perform acts of increased strength and endurance. His increased density also leaves him far heavier than any normal human causing fragile structures to break and an inability to swim. While his second mutation a highly sensitive and powerful sense of smell allows him to track enemies with ease, tell friend from foe and even see through simple disguises, this strong sense of smell can also leave him dazed and vulnerable to attack when presented with an overwhelming scent.

Appearance: Dark reddish hair and eyes. Tall and imposing at 6"2' very broad shoulder. Due to his mutation visible bone spikes have formed in both his shoulders, his knuckles and along his spine, while a heavy bone plate has formed on both his forearms and can be used for offense and defense.
Gear (Weapons/misc): None
Clothing/Armour: Delrath wears a simple pair of long black shorts that stop just above his knees.
Profession: Warrior/ Hunter
Bio/History: When the bombs fell it was anarchy, any sort of police tried to control the masses but were soon over run by panic and fear. A prison named "The Kalorik Center for Rehabilitation" was quickly abandoned by the guards and the inmates broke free, with their newfound freedom they did what thieves, killer, and rapists do, raise hell. Forming a gang simply called "The Kalorik" in reference to their former prison they traveled west looting anything they needed and killing anyone that stood in their way. The strongest of their victims and many women that weren't outright killed were given a choice either be killed or join, most choose life and joined, many of the new recruit had been exposed to radioactivity the Kalorik themselves had unknowingly passed through many radiated ruins, the changes in the their DNA where quickly discovered in the next generation as father's and mother's passed their unknown abilities onto their children.
Within the Kalorik dozens of abilities both aggressive and defensive, passive and active existed but with their constant nomadic life style and in-fighting they would never posed a serious threat to any major settlement. Smaller settlements were not as lucky and sometimes merchants would come across an empty town, bones scattered in the dirt and half eaten corpses burnt, frozen and stabbed to death.
Delrath is a Kalorik, living in their current settlement which was quickly built off the side of a mountain with several dozen cars scattered around as protection and bones scattered as a warning. During a raid on a small settlement near Crux Delrath's group was ambush by soldiers, during the fight Delrath's group was killed but not before they had slaughtered dozens of soldiers, Delrath survived and was captured and brought to crux to receive a public execution.

 

[tobi the good boy]

All Done

Spoiler: Mortis

Name: Mortis
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Type: Advanced: The community, from which Mostis is from, survived the great nuclear apocalypse in deep underground bunkers and were originally a covert biotechnology branch of the United Government. Their primary goal was to develop a new breed of super soldiers for the Great War and thus they were sheltered from the public?s eye. After the end of the world the scientists decedents were weary to enter the hostile post apocalyptic world and in their isolation found continuing the work of their fore fathers the only purpose and escapism that could keep both the fear and madness at bay.
Mutant Y/N: Yes

Mutations (If applicable):
Powers:
Mortis has an unnatural immunity to disease as well as the unique ability to manipulate his 'blood'. Due to his control over his blood he can coagulate severe cuts preventing blood loss and even minimizing damage taken to the body. It also aids in correcting blood flow autonomously and in the reattaching of limbs. However this requires a great deal of concentration and is impossible to maintain during combat. Finally is the Sanguine?s increased erythropoietin level in the body. This ultimately means that when it would take months to rejuvenate the amount of blood loss during combat it takes Mortis mere weeks.
Deficiencies:
His flesh and muscle, after years of being subject to high levels of radiation, have a habit of tearing if he over exerts himself to the point where his limbs may fall off.

Appearance:
Mortis is a tall individual standing at about 1.95 metres. However, Due to his low body weight he could hardly be called an imposing figure. His skin is deathly pale white and covered in the scars of various experimentations and surgeries performed him. His face, round, innocent looking and, unlike his body, remains 'relatively' untouched by the slice n dice surgeries of his past. It does however wear two symmetrical stitch scars from the corners of his lips about halfway up his cheeks, macabrely accentuating his smile. His large eyes a steely grey with specks of red where the pigmentation failed to fully develop. His hair reaches the base of his neck, is pure snow white, unkempt and curls upwards with black tips giving a feathered-messy look with a fringe in the front that masks his eyes.

Gear (Weapons/misc):
- A scalpel that hangs around his neck by a thin wire, like a necklace.
- Morphine
- Antibiotics
- Bandages
- Immune-o-Boosters
- Surgical wire

Clothing/Armour:
His clothing includes an undone, crumpled straight jacket with a bloodstained Lab coat over the top of it, the arms of the straight jacket are baggy and extended well beyond the cuffs of his coat. He wears equally baggy black cargo pants that are tucked into large, grey combat boots fastened with 2 metal buckles with black straps. Over his shoulder hangs a black doctor?s bag filled with an assortment of supplies.

Profession: Medical Practitioner
Bio/History: Mortis was a being hand crafted in the Advanced community from which he hailed, he was one of many attempts (And only successful one) to replicate human DNA entirely from the amino acids upwards in the hopes of restoring the human race to its once glorious state, In short: The first entirely man made man.
Mostis? body was subject to a plethora of genetic experiments before he was transferred to the Haemokinesis body modification project A.K.A "Sanguine". These prior tests came back with some amazing results. His pain tolerance was profound and his metabolic rate was well above average. However the most intriguing results stemmed from his 'Maculate origin'. He, through extensive engineering, possessed both a heightened intelligence and immunity to all diseases catalogued before the nuclear devastation.
His time in 'Sanguine' lasted well over 4 years and revolved around a new form of genetic modification. It involved the replacement of normal human blood with an advanced haemoglobin based life form (Sanguine) that was developed as a prototype experiment before the bombs fell. The liquid organism expanded upon all the natural properties of normal blood as well as harbouring an ability in which with correct electro-chemical commands, it could be manipulated and forced to seal damaged tissue.
The project was mostly a failure with almost all test subjects being lost to infection, it was soon revealed that the substance itself was riddled with unique pathogens that bound the organism?s molecular structure and sterilization rendered the makeup of the Sanguine unstable. The only test subject that managed to survive the painstaking transfusion was Mortis due to his unnatural immunity.
This left only one test subject on the Sanguine project to survive the first stage of the experiment and only one chance to complete the experiment. The second phase of 'Sanguine' was to graft a mechanism to the heart known as "The Conduit". This new organ secreted a chemical compound into the cardiovascular system that would flow through the 'blood' and could be electronically stimulated via commands from the nervous system. This would allow the host to control the Sanguine at will as well as autonomously correct flood flow.
Mortis survived the grafting process. However the project itself was a complete failure. The only survivor was an unrepeatable exception and the product was deemed incredibly unstable and toxic.
After the fiasco of "Sanguine", the advanced community deemed Mortis a failed experiment, a waste of valuable resources and ultimately confined him to the "Genetic Rejection Chambers", He was 10 at the time. The chambers in the simplest terms, was merely a section of the labs in which the radiation of the outside world was confirmed to have seeped into. Ironically enough it was in this corner of the labs that the Ancestors of Mortis? community had stored their most developed technologies when the bombs fell thus resulting in a well of untapped knowledge that could have aided his community in its endeavours
Mortis would have surely died had these supplies been retrieved from the asylum that his community had confined him to. But, through the aid of his prodigal intellect, the various holodiscs and books in this section of the labs he had learnt to speak and expand his mind into wonders that the scientific field had to offer. His studies of medicine had allowed him to maintain his health, Engineering had kept him preoccupied in the void of isolation and genetics helped him comprehend what he was ... and what was happening to him.
Despite this miraculous development it had come at a cost. Mortis' body was deteriorating. The excessive radiation had damaged his muscle and flesh and it was common in his late teens for Mortis to perform surgery on himself to reattach limbs. Thankfully however, the Sanguine allowed this process to be a rather simple and menial task as it corrected blood flow and sealed the wound autonomously. Another issue that had grown in Xeno was an abnormal personality built up over years in solitude. Mortis' persona was a difficult thing to pinpoint. He presented himself in a carefree and childish manner however behind this lay a very inquisitive and methodical mind. On a more sinister note Mortis appeared to have developed an unhealthy fascination in anatomy that has manifested as a desire to dissect and 'tinker' on living "specimens". A particular trait Mortis appears to have adopted is a constant smile that almost never fades, even in the direst of situations.
On his 18th year of existence Mortis' life was upset by a series of events that even to this day he cannot truly recall. He remembers that his community was attacked with explosives and projectiles, that there were flames of different colours as the chemicals ignited. The screams of the people that had ostracized him as men in tattered garbs tore them to ribbons and the cold dark world around him collapsing down in a pile of rubble. He remembered rising from the damaged ruins in a sea of carnage to view the majestic sunlight that hang above him aloft in the skies juxtaposed by a vast nihilistic wasteland stretched before him.
Mortis spent the Next year of his life roaming the wastes, studying those that call this harsh world their home and learning what he could about how they viewed the world. For what purpose, Only Mortis knows.

 

[Dectomax]

Anyone else? In total we have 5 members ready to go. Looking for maybe 1 or 2 more before we get started!

 

[willofbob]

reserve please.

 

[Dectomax]

reserve please.

Space reserved - Willofbob [24 hours]

 

[Dectomax]

Looking to start within the next day or two. Anyone interested is advised to get a character sheet in ASAP. Thank you!

 

[Emurlahn]

I'll make a sheet too, this looks quite interesting.

EDIT:

Spoiler: Char

Name: Gear
Age: 37
Gender: Male
Type: Reinventor
Mutant Y/N: No
Appearance: Gear is about 1.80 meters high, he is neither very imposing or big. He has about 2 inches long hair, that stands almost straight upwards, tips slightly burned, and a full-beard that is slightly denser. Both hair and beard is dark brown. His eyes are blue, and have a stern stubborn look.
Gear (Weapons/misc):
- Lightning-Rod (A Van-Der-Graph-generator based close-combat weapon. Is made of brass and copper, with an isolated leather handle. Below the handle is a small movable part that when turned will charge up the weapon. Is fully charged after 7-8 minutes of turning. Full charge will give about 4 or 5 effective hits, which will send most enemies flying with electric shock. 30-60 sec charge will give one stunning hit. Will de-charge if it hits the ground or 30 minutes after charged. Can still be used as a blunt weapon after de-charged.)
- Steam-cannon (A barrel with a large round chamber at the end, and various valves and levers. When the chamber is filled with steam it will be able to send a 1" diameter sized object about 800 meters in a barely sub-sonic speed. One re-fill contains steam enough for a single shot. It can be mounted to his left glove so he has the hand free.)
- 4 1" diameter brass balls
- Lightning-Gun (A prototype of a gun that will fire small electrically charged metal-projectiles. Based on the Lightning-Rod. Still in testing, not ready for combat.)
- Powder loaded gun.
- 12 bullets.
- Gunpowder-pouch. (Currently empty.)
- Light-enhancing lens-set.
- Light-degrading lens-set.
- Protective lens-set.
- Magnifying lens-set.
- Binocular lens-set.
- Hearing protection.
- Various gears and gizmos.
- A pouch with tools.
- A pouch containing various vials of dubious liquid.
- Big rucksack.
- A pocket-watch.
Clothing/Armour:
- Goggles. Exchangeable lenses.
- Heavy, long leather gloves. Left one is modified with various brass pieces. One large piece of brass covers the entire upper forearm.
- Simple leather trousers.
- Dark red longcoat. Contains a multitude of pockets, many of them hidden
- Heavy leather boots. Very thick soles. Left has springs mounted on it, right has signs of former mountings. Springs currently has no function.
Profession: Inventor/makeshift repairman/merchant/brass-smith.
Bio/History: Gear was born in a small village of reinventors. His family's dream was to at some point make a flying device. His father died in an early attempt at the machinery, while Gear was still quite young.
The village survived on making repairs on various gadgets, and selling things they made to travelling merchants. Though when Gear was about 12 the village got raided by a bunch of mutants, and they had to flee.
From then on they travelled from place too place; looting and scavenging what they could find. They went a lot into the ruins of the Ancients, because that was the best place for source material. Brass and copper was favoured, as they were the easiest ones to work with.
During the long time travelling the group got split up (for various reasons), and seven years ago Gear and a younger cousin found themselves in "Copper Pit". They made some good money by doing their work for people there, and after just two years they had earned enough, and worked enough to have a flying-machine ready.
The flight went horrible. They got caught in some high winds, and went over the Sulphur Mountains. The crash killed Gears cousin, while only breaking his left arm. The left arm is the reason he now wears an armoured glove on the left arm, for support and defence.
After making his way to Crux he sold most of the parts of the machine that he could get with him. The income (and parts) secured him a small safeplace at one of the other reinventor-merchants home. He later got the shop when the aforementioned reinventer passed away two years ago. It is a small place, just between the merchants area and Ziggurat.
He has grown quite know for his skill with gear and steam machinery (at least between the few reinventers in town) and has done some job for a few of the big merchants.
It is also rumoured that he has done a big job for Balthazaar, but most believe it to be just a rumour.

Because every story needs a "wise, old guy".

 

[Mr.Ivebeenframed]

I would like in on this too. This is all very interesting!

Spoiler: Character Sheet-Edited slightly

Name: Ashe

Age: 18

Gender: Female

Type: DEGENERATE

Mutant Y/N: No

Appearance: Ashe stands at a average height of 5'9 but years of living off the wastes has made her skinny and her hands dirty and grubby from constant scavenging. Ashe has a slight bend in her neck making her appear to have a hunch. One could call her beautiful if she tried but those days are gone for her. She has short brown hair in dreadlocks almost covering a tattoo of a black sunflower on the lower part on the back of her head. Freckles dot her round face and as a birth defect she has a cleft on her lower lip. Her eyes are a green color but due to a case of Congenital heterochromia(a genetic disease) her left eye appears to be a light hazel in sunlight.

Gear:
-One extremely worn out H&K MP7A1(50 rounds-4.6×30mm)
-Pocket knife
-toothbrush(bottom is carved resembling more of a pointed end)
-Messenger sling bag
-8inch Crowbar
-Binoculars
-One rusted 6 inch Colt Python-more of an intimidation weapon(7 rounds-.357 magnum, 5 rounds-.38 special)



Clothing/Armor:
Ashe wears a worn down and hole filled blue Hooded sweatshirt but underneath she wears a black, ripped, tank-top. She has discolored cargo pants that used to be a woodland camouflage and cargo boots on her feet with one hole on the sole of the right foot although Ashe used what was left of her duct tape to seal it shut. Ashe's gloves are also dirt-colored from a black, leather color. The fingers have been cut out yet somehow everytime Ashe pulls them off her entire hands are still dirty. And a red bandanna covers the bottom of her face when needed and Aviator Sunglasses for concealing her eyes or her identity.

Profession: Runner/Scavenger/former make-shift assassin

Bio/History:Born to a ruthless warlord heading a growing force of bandits Ashe was used as any other weapon used by the lot. Her mother was reluctantly married to the warlord to stave off his terror. Her mother was incredibly beautiful and managed to convince the man to halt his sword against her community but sadly it only worked for a short time. When Ashe's mother died giving birth to her all bets were off and the community of only a few dozen people were slaughtered in front of Ashe in her father's arms. For years Ashe had to endure her father's physical and mental abuse. Her home was an armory abandoned by the Ancients with her childhood toys being firearms and explosives.

Then the day came that her father decided to add his own daughter to his arsenal. She was offered as a gift to another Bandit leader that was of equal strength to her father's own. Ashe was instructed to kill the Bandit leader once he got close to her, alone. Ashe didn't have the choice to decline but before she could say anything the man was on top of her. Fear shocked and paralyzed her. Then her father's notorious anger set in and the Bandit leader was the one unfortunate to feel her wrath. Ashe made her way back to her home with the Bandit leader's head but once Ashe got there, all her anger for her father, all her hatred that she channeled into murdering the Bandit leader dissipated when she saw his devilish smile. All those years of abuse had turned Ashe into nothing more than a lap dog for her father.

Two more times her father had used Ashe. Two more times Ashe's resentment for everybody around her grew. Nobody in her father's gang had bothered to try and help her or even talk to her for fear of diverting his wrath towards them. Ashe grew more detached from everybody around her and soon she barely spoke at all. But that all changed when her home was thrown under siege by a much more better-equipped and better trained army. Fire and brimstone was rained down on the armory and Ashe used this to situation escape. She grabbed as much gear as she could before looking back and seeing heavily armored juggernauts burst through the walls. They wore armor from feet to toe and it was unlike anything Ashe had seen before. Then her own father rushed towards them with his trademark sword pushing them back. Ashe scurried through one of the open windows and ran not looking back on the burning hellhole that used to be her home.

Now the only thing Ashe could do now was survive and run as far away as humanely possible from the armory. Ashe wished and hoped every night before she fell asleep that her father wouldn't be the one that she would see when she opened her eyes.

Hope you like it! Always open for tips or criticisms

 

[Dectomax]

I'll make a sheet too, this looks quite interesting.

EDIT:

Spoiler: Char

Name: Gear
Age: 37
Gender: Male
Type: Reinventor
Mutant Y/N: No
Appearance: Gear is about 1.80 meters high, he is neither very imposing or big. He has about 2 inches long hair, that stands almost straight upwards, tips slightly burned, and a full-beard that is slightly denser. Both hair and beard is dark brown. His eyes are blue, and have a stern stubborn look.
Gear (Weapons/misc):
- Lightning-Rod (A Van-Der-Graph-generator based close-combat weapon. Is made of brass and copper, with an isolated leather handle. Below the handle is a small movable part that when turned will charge up the weapon. Is fully charged after 7-8 minutes of turning. Full charge will give about 4 or 5 effective hits, which will send most enemies flying with electric shock. 30-60 sec charge will give one stunning hit. Will de-charge if it hits the ground or 30 minutes after charged. Can still be used as a blunt weapon after de-charged.)
- Steam-cannon (A barrel with a large round chamber at the end, and various valves and levers. When the chamber is filled with steam it will be able to send a 1" diameter sized object about 800 meters in a barely sub-sonic speed. One re-fill contains steam enough for a single shot. It can be mounted to his left glove so he has the hand free.)
- 4 1" diameter brass balls
- Lightning-Gun (A prototype of a gun that will fire small electrically charged metal-projectiles. Based on the Lightning-Rod. Still in testing, not ready for combat.)
- Powder loaded gun.
- 12 bullets.
- Gunpowder-pouch. (Currently empty.)
- Light-enhancing lens-set.
- Light-degrading lens-set.
- Protective lens-set.
- Magnifying lens-set.
- Binocular lens-set.
- Hearing protection.
- Various gears and gizmos.
- A pouch with tools.
- A pouch containing various vials of dubious liquid.
- Big rucksack.
- A pocket-watch.
Clothing/Armour:
- Goggles. Exchangeable lenses.
- Heavy, long leather gloves. Left one is modified with various brass pieces. One large piece of brass covers the entire upper forearm.
- Simple leather trousers.
- Dark red longcoat. Contains a multitude of pockets, many of them hidden
- Heavy leather boots. Very thick soles. Left has springs mounted on it, right has signs of former mountings. Springs currently has no function.
Profession: Inventor/makeshift repairman/merchant/brass-smith.
Bio/History: Gear was born in a small village of reinventors. His family's dream was to at some point make a flying device. His father died in an early attempt at the machinery, while Gear was still quite young.
The village survived on making repairs on various gadgets, and selling things they made to travelling merchants. Though when Gear was about 12 the village got raided by a bunch of mutants, and they had to flee.
From then on they travelled from place too place; looting and scavenging what they could find. They went a lot into the ruins of the Ancients, because that was the best place for source material. Brass and copper was favoured, as they were the easiest ones to work with.
During the long time travelling the group got split up (for various reasons), and seven years ago Gear and a younger cousin found themselves in "Copper Pit". They made some good money by doing their work for people there, and after just two years they had earned enough, and worked enough to have a flying-machine ready.
The flight went horrible. They got caught in some high winds, and went over the Sulphur Mountains. The crash killed Gears cousin, while only breaking his left arm. The left arm is the reason he now wears an armoured glove on the left arm, for support and defence.
After making his way to Crux he sold most of the parts of the machine that he could get with him. The income (and parts) secured him a small safeplace at one of the other reinventor-merchants home. He later got the shop when the aforementioned reinventer passed away two years ago. It is a small place, just between the merchants area and Ziggurat.
He has grown quite know for his skill with gear and steam machinery (at least between the few reinventers in town) and has done some job for a few of the big merchants.
It is also rumoured that he has done a big job for Balthazaar, but most believe it to be just a rumour.

Because every story needs a "wise, old guy".

Fucking love it. Oh yes. You have no idea how much I'm smiling, because of how well this fits.

EDIT: Feel free to join the user group, there's a few of us in there and it's a good place for more info on the RP!

 

[Dectomax]

I would like in on this too. This is all very interesting!

Spoiler: Character Sheet

Name: Ashe

Age: 18

Gender: Female

Type: DEGENERATE

Mutant Y/N: No

Appearance: Ashe stands at a average height of 5'9 but years of living off the wastes has made her skinny and her hands dirty and grubby from constant scavenging. Ashe has a slight bend in her neck making her appear to have a hunch. One could call her beautiful if she tried but those days are gone for her. She has short brown hair in dreadlocks almost covering a tattoo of a black sunflower on the lower part on the back of her head. Freckles dot her round face and as a birth defect she has a cleft on her lower lip. Her eyes are a green color but due to a case of Congenital heterochromia(a genetic disease) her left eye appears to be a light hazel in sunlight.

Gear:
-One extremely worn out H&K MP7A1(50 rounds-4.6×30mm)
-Pocket knife
-toothbrush(bottom is carved resembling more of a pointed end)
-Messenger sling bag
-8inch Crowbar
-Binoculars
-One rusted 6 inch Colt Python-more of an intimidation weapon(7 rounds-.357 magnum)



Clothing/Armor:
Ashe wears a worn down and hole filled blue Hooded sweatshirt but underneath she wears a black, ripped, tank-top. She has discolored cargo pants that used to be a woodland camouflage and cargo boots on her feet with one hole on the sole of the right foot although Ashe used what was left of her duct tape to seal it shut. Ashe's gloves are also dirt-colored from a black, leather color. The fingers have been cut out yet somehow everytime Ashe pulls them off her entire hands are still dirty. And a red bandanna covers the bottom of her face when needed.

Profession: Runner/Scavenger/former make-shift assassin

Bio/History:Born to a ruthless warlord heading a growing force of bandits Ashe used as any other weapon used by the lot. Her mother was reluctantly married to the warlord to stave off his terror. Her mother was incredibly beautiful and managed to convince the man to halt his sword against her community but sadly it only worked for a short time. When Ashe's mother died giving birth to her all bets were off and the community of only a few dozen people were slaughtered in front of Ashe in her father's arms. For years Ashe had to endure her father's physical and mental abuse. Her home was an armory abandoned by the Ancients with her childhood toys being firearms and explosives.

Then the day came that her father decided to add his own daughter to his arsenal. She was offered as a gift to another Bandit leader that was of equal strength to her father's own. Ashe was instructed to kill the Bandit leader once he got close to her, alone. Ashe didn't have the choice to decline but before she could say anything the man was on top of her. Fear shocked and paralyzed her. Then her father's notorious anger set in and the Bandit leader was the one unfortunate to feel her wrath. Ashe made her way back to her home with the Bandit leader's head but once Ashe got there, all her anger for her father, all her hatred that she channeled into murdering the Bandit leader dissipated when she saw his devilish smile. All those years of abuse had turned Ashe into nothing more than a lap dog for her father.

Two more times her father had used Ashe. Two more times Ashe's resentment for everybody around her grew. Nobody in her father's gang had bothered to try and help her or even talk to her for fear of diverting his wrath towards them. Ashe grew more detached from everybody around her and soon she barely spoke at all. But that all changed when her home was thrown under siege by a much more better-equipped and better trained army. Fire and brimstone was rained down on the armory and Ashe used this to situation escape. She grabbed as much gear as she could before looking back and seeing heavily armored juggernauts burst through the walls. They wore armor from feet to toe and it was unlike anything Ashe had seen before. Then her own father rushed towards them with his trademark sword pushing them back. Ashe scurried through one of the open windows and ran not looking back on the burning hellhole that used to be her home.

Now the only thing Ashe could do now was survive and run as far away as humanely possible from the armory. Ashe wished and hoped every night before she fell asleep that her father wouldn't be the one that she would see when she opened her eyes.

Hope you like it! Always open for tips or criticisms

Sounds good, not much, if anything, needs changing. As always, remember that women in The Twisted Earth are seen as little more than objects and sex slaves, so unless you keep your identity hidden...bad things may happen!

 

[Mr.Ivebeenframed]

@Dectomax: Gotcha, I'll make some slight adjustments to her clothing and what not.

 

[mcpop9]

reserve please.
Edit: sheet

Spoiler: Minda

Name: Minda
Age: 23

Gender: Female

Type: Guardians

Mutant Y/N: Y

Mutations (If applicable): Minda has been genetically altered to a similarity of plants. She can survive underwater. she is able to use water for life like a plant can absorbing nutrients, but has to be slow and relaxed as any significant effort will cause her to suffocate. Can secrete a resin that hardens her skin, but has to be near a supply of water, as trying to do this not near one it would kill her due to the fact that the resin is mainly H20 with a solidifying agent. The resin is capable of stopping a .55 round when fully hardened

Appearance: About 4 ft 5 in tall she is innocent looking yet can be deadly in a pinch.Her skin is pale with neon green veins running near the surface giving it a green tint and a faint glow. She has long, shoulder length neon green hair that glows lightly.

Gear (Weapons/misc): She carries around a sword made of the first mutant like her's resin, It never dulls. she also carries around a jar of pure rad-free H2O, as an air-loom

Clothing/Armour: Minda only wears a robe made of black material. It has the look of the Grimm reapers robe. Nothing more, nothing less.

Profession: An Oracle, people seek her out for advise and other needs.

Bio/History: Her family line has lived in a bunker in the city for generations. its in the derelict part of town, away from the masses. people come to her to seek out advise. Minda rarely leaves the bunker, save to get components to keep it running and food when they don't bring it to her as an offering. The few times that the bunker has been raided, she blended in with green floral and devastated the intruders. Throughout the city she is recognized and respected as an elder even though she is very young.

A bit on the bunker: It was an experimental bunker meant to keep plants and seeds alive during the war, it was over run by the floral it housed and is now one of the extremely few places that has any sort of vegetation. Minda keeps it up to date with the best supplies that sehe can find and upgrades it rather frequently. though the lower half off the bunker is flooded cutting off the second half of it, which isn't flooded to most.

If anything is unbalanced let me know and i'll change it.

Edit#2: updated powers to be more believable.

 

[Korten12]

Gonig to use Amoi again.

Spoiler

Name: Amoi Grazer
Age: 17
Gender: Male
Type: Guardian
Mutant Y/N: No
Mutations (If applicable): None
Appearance: Short natural dark blue hair, blood red eyes, 5'8'', Caucasian.
Gear (Weapons/misc): SCAR-H with a red-dot sight, ammo pouches all over, a long sharp machete in case of any close encounters.
Clothing/Armor: black vest with red stripes on the arms, blue jeans, and a black hood.
Profession: Collector, he travels around collecting Ancients technology and is ordered to bring them back once he has enough.
Bio/History: Born into a Guardians family, he grew up learning how to shoot guns and use Ancients technology. During his young days he always collected anything he thought was Ancient technology despite it almost always being not. He always also admired the Ancients, they may have destroyed so much, that was because of their bad, like even today, there is bad and there is good. Though an attack by raiders on his village left him the sole survivor of the attack, having nothing left, he traveled far to another Guardian settlement, where he then was able to become a full-fledge collector. Though to this day he still remembers the face of one of the raiders and anytime he thinks of it makes him want revenge. Now he is being sent on his first real collection trip which usually lasts months and some collectors never return.

 

[Dectomax]

reserve please.

Mcpop9 - Reserved - 24 hours

 

[Tips_of_Fingers]

Spoiler: Blake Rheinhart

Name: Blake Rheinhart

Age: 37

Gender: Male

Type: Ex-Resurrector

Mutant: Yes

Mutations: Unknown to Blake is his ability to heal wounds at an alarming rate. Broken bones only take a week to heal which often causes Blake to assume some sort of sprain; as such, he believes that he's never broken a bone in his considerably dangerous life. Smaller wounds such as gunshots and cuts take only an hour or two to completely heal. Although Blake is not invincible, he has proven to be an incredibly hard man to kill...making sure there's nothing left of him is the only way to ensure he won't come back

The only physical indicator of Blake's mutation is his exceedingly pale skin that never tans. The only discernable drawback to the mutation is that Blake occasionally suffers from episodes of uncontrollable rage that can last anwhere from a few minutes to a whole day. The episodes always end with Blake on his knees, shivering and coughing up blood. He believes that these incidents are a symptom of some sort of disease he has carried most of his life...which in a way, is true.

Appearance: A somewhat short and slight man, Blake stands at 5'6 and at first glance appears to be physically weak. However, his small stature belies a formidable strength. Aside from his strikingly pale skin, Blake has a newly acquired scar - a gift from his "friends" - that runs along the top-left side of his bald head. Conspicuously grotesque, the puckered scar is a testament to Blake's healing abilities, despite leaving a permament ravine running along his head.

Gear (Weapons/misc): Blake has been left with his trusty crossbow with a full quiver of 30 lightweight bolts. Mounted on the crossbow is a makeshift scope fashioned from one half of a pair of binoculars that he found long ago. Recently broken, Blake has repaired the crossbow as best he can with no tools, but it's effectiveness won't be the same until he can find a village to buy the necessary materials. Alongside his crossbow, Blake has been known to employ a rusty hunting knife for close-quarters-combat and - on special occasions - torture.

He also once owned an old Beretta 9mm, but that was stolen. He looks forward to finding the same weapon - or something like it - again some day.

Clothing/Armour: Blake is attired in sturdy walking boots and brown cargo trousers, with lightweight - albeit very battered - combat armour covering his torso. He wears a short, black coat over the top of the armour, usually zipped up to hide his protection. An old scarf and a pair of dusty goggles hang around his neck.

Profession: Used to be a Mutant Hunter, Mercenary, Expert Scout and Raider. Is currently a simple survivor, like many others...

Bio/History: Blake grew up in a Resurrector community, learning how to fix and use the remaining tech of the Ancients and learning how to survive in the hostile environments of The Twisted Earth. At the age of 15, Blake was trained to use a crossbow that his father had fixed up, learning to shoot small pests like the mutant rats that often targeted the food stores. Unfortunately, some unknown illness occasionally affected him, causing extreme rages and painful vomiting of blood that could last for a whole day. Never seeming to prove a major issue, the community leaders deemed Blake's illness as non-fatal and allowed him to continue his life as normal in the village. At 18 Blake was going on daily scouting parties, making sure that no larger mutants were coming into close proximity of his beloved community; he enjoyed watching as the bolts felled creature after creature, relishing in their cries of agony. Killing something so obviously inferior to him was a personal pleasure of Blake's.

At the age of 21, a group of mercenaries stopped by at the village and asked the community leaders if they were harbouring any "mutant heathens". Blake knew their were no mutants in their village, the community was lucky to have escaped such misfortune as mutated humans were known to be problematic and troublesome; Blake had heard stories of whole families being torn apart by the simple birth of a mutant. The community leaders replied that no mutants lived in the village and proceeded to ask why the mercenaries wished to know.

"All our hardships," began a grisled-looking mercenary, "are because of those devil-formed heathens!" Blake stood, transfixed, as the story unfolded: The mutants were not a product of the war-ravaged land and areas of intense radiation, it was the mutants who caused the misfortune of our world. Fighting amongst themselves and destroying whole cities during their petty disagreements, the Good Man had punished the whole of mankind for the arrogance and sins of the twisted devil-forms. "Only until all mutants have been eradicated," concluded the old mercenary, "can the Good Man bring himself to improve our world, this Twisted Earth."

Taken in by the man's convictions, Blake immediately agreed to fight for their cause, much to his entire community's dismay. Refusing to listen to his father's reasoning, Blake gathered his belongings and left with the band without looking back.

As the years went by, Blake quickly rose through the ranks of the mutant hunting gang and gained the approval of the grisly-looking mercenary, Grant. In Grant, Blake had found a new father and held him in such high esteem that he was blind to the brutality of the gang's actions; they destroyed whole villages that failed to co-operate or were found to be hiding mutants, they murdered and tortured women and children with no regards for morality. In the Good Man's name, Blake believed he and his mercenary gang were working towards the salvation of mankind.

At the age of 27, Blake became the leader of the mutant hunters after Grant's death. For 10 years he held his station, diligently travelling the blasted land in search of mutants to slaughter and mutant-lovers to torture. However, the illness that had gripped him as a young teen was becoming worse; his rages would often result in attacks towards his comrades and cause him to question the loyatly of others. One such incident saw him return to his own village with a group of heavily armed men, under the belief that they had been harbouring mutants even whilst he was growing up. He had the entire community killed. Deep inside his own rage, Blake never recognised the cries of his family as he cut their throats...

As a result of this unprovoked attack on a non-mutant community, many of the mercenaries decided to overthrow Blake's leadership. A short, but bloody skirmish was fought whereby all of Blake's followers were killed and he was seemingly fatally wounded by a mighty blow to the head from the new leader - Rico Hortz. Leaving Blake to die, Rico lead the remaining mercenaries away in search of more mutant-killing salvation.

A day after being left for dead, Blake awoke to find his head throbbing and his closest friends dead. Crawling to a nearby body of water, Blake perceived the grotesque, blood-stained and half-healed scar running along his head, and the actions of his mutinous gang came rushing back. Furious, disorientated and hurting, Blake vowed to take revenge.

Having camped by the water and fed on his dead comrades until his head wound had fully healed, Blake fixed his broken crossbow as best he could and made plans to get to the nearest village to find supplies and ask questions.

"Rico," he murmurs to himself on the night before his departure, "you're a fucking dead man."

I have a job interview that I have to leave for in a second but I'm posting my original sheet now to let you know I'm interested. When I'm back in an hour or two, I'll look through the Bio and edit it if i feel like chabnging anything but I seem to remember that I was very excited by this character.

 

[willofbob]

Spoiler: mutant mid-life crisis

Name: Maxwell Boston
Age: 87 (middle age for mutant-type)
Gender: Male
Type: Visionary Reinventors
Mutant Y:
Mutations (If applicable): slightly taller than most humans. Bark-like leathery skin making him slightly tougher than usual, less vulnerable to fire. bad lungs, bizzare muscle issues that cause him to become exhausted very quickly and seriously hurt his maimum level of strength. eyes are almost superhuman and look incredibly vibrant.
Appearance: black hair with a pointed beard (very well groomed). hair slicked back. Pointed nose, smiles often.
Gear (Weapons/misc): pre-war Thompson machine gun, used as little as possible (he keeps it around as an heirloom), prefers a rad-gun of his tribe's invention (shoots an intense burst of radiation) or a tribe-fashioned shotgun attached to an axehead.
- one tent
- a copy of The Lord of the Rings
- a water purifier (poor quality)
- a lighter
Clothing/Armour: feels little need for armour, having the above stated mutation, so he simply wears a pair of slacks, pointed shoes, blue shirt w/ red pinstripes,cream suit with dark spinstripes and a grey trilby.
Profession: CEO of his tribe
Bio/History: before the war, Annex and Boston was a very succesful company, employed to supply anything and everyhing to the governments of dozens of nations and even more to the ludicrously succesful people of the Last Days.
The World Headquaters was one of the only buildings belonging to Annex and Boston to not be destroyed in the war, but most technology was destroyed and radiation permeated the surrounding area. The employees were forced to use the company's entire supply of an experimenal drug to survive. Thankfully, its effects proved hereditary.
Maxwell Boston is a descendant of the Boston family that owned the company before the war and quickly became CEO after his shrewed business sense proved vital to the tribe's survival one winter.
at the age of 84, Boston began his mid-life crisis, and set of throughout the wastes in search of glory, leaving the tribe in the hands of his childhood friend AND NOTHING ELSE, Aleena Annex.

also, is it just me, or are the Foundation basically the Brotherhood of Steel from Fallout?