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The Walking Dead: Among the Ruined - Cottonwood Falls
Discord Chatroom || Interest Check || In-Character

Synopsis

Among the Ruined is a role-play started by a dear friend six years ago. A role-play which ran for numerous years, but eventually came to an end (as all good things must). Inspired by the popular television show The Walking Dead, Among the Ruined placed original characters in a frightening world where the dead roamed the earth - six weeks into the apocalypse. This role-play, Among The Ruined - Cottonwood Falls will be an extension of the original, taking a new cast of original characters and seeing them survive in this universe. This role-play will start the in the summer of 2013 at the brink of the outbreak, where society, civility and the government fall. Our characters will begin their story in Cottonwood Falls, Kansas - a small town with a population of under nine hundred residents. The town of Cottonwood Falls is known for its ranching community and southern charm. Its current mayor - William Stan - has been head of Cottonwood Falls for a decade, maintaining the heritage of the town and peaceful environment. Some of the younger residents however wish for change, hoping that this year (as Election Day nears) there will be a new mayor that brings forth prosperity and advancement - a way to compete against bigger local corporations as the economy struggles. Don't misinterpret this, the town is in great hands and has been for ten years, but there is room for improvement. For the last ten years the residents of the town have depended on a sheriff's department that lack the man-power to cover the entire town, a fire department that is volunteer only and a single grocery store which to purchase all their necessities. According to Mayor Stan, this is the heritage of Cottonwood Falls and that shouldn't change (why fix what's not broken?). So as residents prepare for the final public debate outside the Chase County Courthouse (one of the oldest functional courthouses in Kansas), the end of civilization as we know it begins.

Note for the Role-players

This role-play will be primarily a sandbox where your character(s) will have free-range to do as they chose. There will be some boundaries, but we'll scratch on that a tad bit later. As GM, I will attempt to have an overlying plot to keep the story progressing. I advise that everyone that decides to join this role-play to flush out their character(s) and have an idea of what they'd like to accomplish with said character(s). Giving your character(s) a goal and motive will help you create your own subplots and add depth and substance to this role-play.

As GM I will not hold your hand and guide you all the time. Like stated above, there will be a primary plot that will help you in case you get stuck, but it's up to you as a writer to fit your character into the story and give them things to do (good content, no fluff). Below we are going to discuss some rules for the role-play, some standard Iwaku Forum rules, others of IC importance.

Rules

Rule 1: Be respectful - Please treat other role-players as you wish to be treated. This only applies in the OOC Thread or Discord Chat Room. In-Character dialogue or actions will not affect you OOC (unless they're unrealistic).

Rule 2: Don't take it personally - In-Character events can sometimes seem evil or malicious. They can appear personal because we love our original characters. However, remember this is fiction and not real life. If IC issues sprout in OOC please contact me via PM and I will take care of the issue before it continues.

Rule 3: In-Character deaths may happen - This role-play takes inspiration from The Walking Dead, a television show and comic book series with many character deaths. This role-play will encompass those same risks. Character deaths can be decided based on different scenarios:
- If you leave the role-play and we don't hear from you for a week
- If your character runs into impossible odds IC
- If you yourself decide to kill off your character
- If the GM decides it's time to kill off your character (this will only occur for plot reasons)
- If you and another role-player decide to kill off your character
- Other reasons...

Rule 4: No Godmodding - Your character is human, do not instill them with superhuman attributes. Your character(s) is yours and yours alone. Your fellow rpers character is theirs and theirs alone. Do not control the character of others without their permission.

Rule 5: Casual/Advanced - This role-play falls under the category of High-Casual. You are expected to post a minimum of two paragraphs (10 sentences). Your posts should contain real content, not just fluff. Don't post to just post, make your post mean something. As writers we have the ability to create stories that blow people away; I'm not asking you to blow my mind with every post, but do your best! Your effort will not go unnoticed here.

Rule 6: Posting - There is no set schedule that requires you to post, but please try and post a minimum of once per week. If you will be leaving for an extended period of time, let me know ASAP. Rolepayers unable to follow with this posting rule will be subject to expulsion. Each post must contain the name of your character, location and person(s) of interaction. Example: Jon Doe - Chase County Courthouse - Jane Doe (@insertroleplayername)

Rule 6: Adding more rules - I as GM have the right to update the rule board over time.

Character Sheet

A CS is to be posted in the OOC and moved into the roster once accepted. There are two different character sheets, one for main characters and one for NPCs - please make sure to fill out he correct one for your character(s). I advise you have a couple of characters in mind for this role-play because as stated in Rule 3, character run the risk of death. NPCs may become main characters over time, simply convert their character sheet to the Main Character Sheet. Please notice both Character Sheets below are fairly short. I want to keep things simple and easy for you, one word responses for each of the tabs is perfectly acceptable. I will require a short one to two paragraph post example at the end of your Main Character Sheet. This post can be from a previous role-play of yours or you may write something random on the spot.


Main Character SheetNPC Character Sheet

Image: (Real Life)

Basics
Name:
Date of Birth (& age):
Place of Birth:
Family/Friends/Pets/Etc:

Physical Description
Height:
Weight:
Eye Color:
Typical Clothing/Equipment:

Personality/Attributes
Personality/Attitude:
Skills/Talents:
Goals/Ambitions:
Strengths:
Weaknesses:
Fears:
Hobbies/Interests:
Regular Routine:
Religion/Beliefs:
Sexual Orientation:
Place/Type of Residence:
Occupation:
Place of Work:
Past Occupations:
Additional Notes

Post Example
Image: (Real Life)

Basics
Name:
Date of Birth (& age):
Place of Birth:

Physical Description
Height:
Weight:
Eye Color:
Typical Clothing/Equipment:

Attributes
Occupation:
Place of Work:
Past Occupations:
Additional Notes​


If you have any more questions please do not hesitate to ask.
 
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Basics
Name: Marichel Rozario-Pacheco ‘Chel’
Date of Birth (& age): June 3rd | 22
Place of Birth: Nuevo Laredo, Mexico
Family/Friends/Pets/Etc:
  • Parents: Marisol (44) & Adan Rozario-Pacheco (49)
  • Siblings: Luna (18), Ximena (10) & Renata (7)
  • Dog: Santo (3)

Physical Description
Height: 5’2’’
Weight: 117 lbs.
Eye Color: Black
Typical Clothing/Equipment: Tomboyish clothes, typically hand-me-downs from her parents or clothes given to them out of goodwill. Just about everything she wears is oversized and worn. She keeps a pocket knife in her boot, alongside bobby pins and a scrunchie in her pockets at all times.


Personality/Attributes
Personality/Attitude: Chel comes on strong. She’s loud, ambitious and rarely ever backs down from a challenge. Organized and always knowing exactly what she wants, she is rarely seen being unproductive. Chel goes in hard and never holds back. She’s confident in herself and rarely loses her cool. However, her headstrong nature can often lead to her saying things she shouldn’t have and hurting the people around her. That confidence of hers quickly turns into defensiveness and an inability to admit that she was wrong. She can be selfish and insensitive due to the mentality she has, always placing her own ambitions in front of other people’s feelings. Despite being a farmhand, her dream of moving to the big city and going to university is one known by anyone who speaks to her in Cottonwood Falls.

Skills/Talents: Farming, plant identification, cooking, swimming.
Goals/Ambitions: To move out of Cottonwood Falls to study economics at university.
Strengths: Physical labour, planning and organizing.
Weaknesses: Empathy, philosophical questions, anything that requires flexibility.
Fears: Doing nothing with her life. Heights.
Hobbies/Interests: Anything involving Pokemon, swimming, volleyball.
Regular Routine: Chel typically wakes up at 5 AM everyday to tend to the farm, doing so until roughly 6 PM. Any free time she has is spent walking around town or spending time with her siblings until 10 PM, when she goes to sleep.
Religion/Beliefs: Christian
Sexual Preference: Lesbian (closeted)
Place/Type of Residence: Rozario-Pacheco Farm
Occupation: Farmhand
Place of Work: Rozario-Pacheco Farm
Past Occupations: None.

Additional Notes: Chel is vegetarian. She speaks english and spanish. Her full name, which she rarely reveals to people, is Marichel Paciencia Bibiana Ynes Placida Rozario-Pacheco.


For someone who lived in the wastelands, Quo was fairly pristine. The cream of the crop, even. Barely tanned, barely marred, save for a scar dragging from his chin down into his shirt and some dirt that clung to him, refusing to let go of the smooth skin. Yes, he looked like he didn't belong here, sitting in a makeshift throne of sorts, adorned with shiny scrap metals and broken knife chips. Of course, a throne wasn't necessary in the wasteland, but Quo had a knack for theatrics and a love for peering down at the shit his men dragged in for him to judge. Humanity, or rather, what was left of it, could do nothing else but lay beneath him, begging for mercy. His scraps of a jacket dragged against the seat as he adjusted himself, slicking back his hair once more with his free hand, the other tossing a pocket knife.

Up and down. The blade shone in the light of the assorted oil lamps hung around the halls of one of their main bases. This area, alongside a few other settlements, were controlled by none other than him: the tiny terror with a golden tongue and a knife in your back.

Of course, people shuffling through their things was something that always made it back to him. His men knew how he relished in torture, in death, in betrayal. A man they spared for now could be outfitted with a bomb that would later blast him whilst he traveled on for safety in the desert. A man they tortured today could be wrung out for a nice amount of blood to paint with. He liked to get creative with his knives. He knew where to go, how to get what he wanted, and when the right time was to strike. Despite his smaller frame, these were things he was respected for.

The heavy iron doors whined as they were forced forwards, a troop of his men filing in with a little treat dragging along the floor for him, already broken in. Harsh features, sharp eyes and a hell of a mark on his cheek. How cute. A glimmer of curiosity gleamed in the pale blue eyes of their leader as he straightened himself out, the ghost of a smile tickling his lips.

"You've brought me a snack." he quipped, still tossing his pocket knife about, gaze flicking up and down the man as they plopped him onto the floor unceremoniously. "How... Quaint."

A snort came from one of his men. He always spoke like this, like they weren't years into the near extinction of mankind. He sounded like a posh fucking princess, always. "Found him going through the supplies in Deadline." they specified the nearby settlement, "Alone. Won't tell us where the rest of his group is."

"Hmmm." the man atop his throne hummed to acknowledge the information, "I see. So he's either disposable or they thought he was competent enough to not get caught." he mused, finally standing up and idly dusting off his dark pants, though it didn't really remove much of anything. His pocket knife was held daintily in those hands of his as he approached, pulling up the other's chin and placing the blade directly against the skin of his neck, to see his face. "Did he have anything on him besides a cute face?" His tone was less humorous now despite his words, face seeming to lose that bit of devilish joy, only to be replaced by something colder, father away.
 
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Basics
Name: Theodore Ivankov ‘Theo’
Date of Birth (& age): February 6th | 29
Place of Birth: Cottonwood Falls, Kansas.
Family/Friends/Pets/Etc:
  • Grandfather: Ansel Ivankov (84)
  • Parents: Aysa (50) & Dmitri (50) Ivankov
  • Siblings: Nataniel Ivankov (33)
Physical Description
Height: 6’1’’
Weight: 160 lbs.
Eye Color: Blue.
Typical Clothing/Equipment: Theo doesn’t dress himself much more than a simple t-shirt or sweater with jeans. It’s not as if he dresses like a slob, but there isn’t really anything particularly spectacular about his wardrobe: the only thing that always seems to be on him is a lab coat.

Personality/Attributes
Personality/Attitude: Theo is perhaps the opposite of what you’d want in a doctor. Though he’s clear, concise and always efficient with his work, empathy isn’t exactly his forte. Emotions are too hard to convey for him. Being gentle is embarrassing, being too openly pleased is embarrassing… So what does he do to cope? Be mad. Be apathetic. He’s about as ornery as a shut-in old man and bad language seems to be a part of his normal vocabulary. On the less abrasive side, he’s quiet and inquisitive, loving math puzzles and horror novels. If anything, he’s socially awkward when he actually cares about others opinions: social cues just… Don’t come easy to him.

Skills/Talents: Math, gathering information, experimenting.
Goals/Ambitions: He’s really not sure anymore.
Strengths: Physical fighting, macgyvering contraptions.
Weaknesses: Easy to anger, hard to talk to.
Fears: Losing control of himself.
Hobbies/Interests: Sudoku, napping, exercising, research, horror novels and movies.
Regular routine: Theo wakes up around 8 AM. He opens the clinic at 9 AM and it stays open until 4 PM. From then on is his free time, either working out or at the library.
Religion/Beliefs: Agnostic.
Sexual Preference: Bisexual.
Place/Type of Residence: A two story house with the first floor being a clinic and the second floor being a living space.
Occupation: Biomedical engineer, currently serving as the doctor of sorts of the town.
Place of Work: Cottonwood Falls Clinic.
Past Occupations: None.

Additional Notes: Theo’s grandfather was the original clinic owner but now spends most of his time practically bedridden, leaving Theo to be the not-really-a-doctor doctor of Cottonwood Falls.
 
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Basics
Name: John Irving
Date of Birth (& age): February 24, 1968 (45yo)
Place of Birth: Wichita, Kansas
Family/Friends/Pets/Etc:
Father: Gerald Irving​
Mother: Brenda Irving​
Sister: Alison Irving​

Physical Description
Height: 5’7 (170cm)
Weight: 149lbs (68kg)
Eye Color: Light Brown
Typical Clothing/Equipment:
On Duty: Tucked in long-sleeve buttoned down shirt (white or khaki) with blue jeans. Dark boots, sheriff’s badge, walkie-talkie, holstered pistol and cowboy hat.​
Off Duty: Heathered short sleeve shirts, dark jeans, boots and trucker or cowboy hat.​

Personality/Attributes
Personality/Attitude: Holding a gruff exterior, John bares a natural scowl that makes you question his inner happiness. However, underneath his facial appearance and dry sense of humor, he has a heart of gold worthy of all good things. He has admiration for heroes and good people and will help anyone in dire need of assistance. In addition he holds no quarrels with small time criminals, recognizing the reasons for their distressful actions. On the other hand, crimes of malice hold no place in his heart and he will act with utmost vigilance against these criminals.

Skills/Talents: Shooting, horseback riding and problem solving
Goals/Ambitions: To uphold the law of Cottonwood Falls
Strengths: Leadership, righteousness and compassion
Weaknesses: Hard-headed, workaholic and overplays
Fears: Loss, an unsolved case and defeat
Hobbies/Interests: Baseball, television,

Regular Routine: John wakes up around 6am every morning, drinks his usual black coffee and eats his three eggs with bacon and sourdough toast (his typical breakfast). He gets to the Sheriff’s Office around 8am, answering calls and dealing with Chase County issues until 5pm - he is however always on the clock and when needed will answer the call. As of late he’s been leaving the office around 3:30pm since there haven’t been many problems in his zone. Once off, he sits back and watches television at home until he knocks out or goes out with his work buddies to the local bar. Knocks out around 10pm either way.

Religion/Beliefs: Catholic
Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual
Place/Type of Residence: Small cabin in Cottonwood Falls
Occupation: Chase County Sheriff
Place of Work: Chase County Sheriff’s Office
Past Occupations:
Construction​
Police Officer​
WCSO (Wichita County Sheriff’s Office)​
 
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Basics

Name: Aurora Jane Miller
Date of Birth (& age): 29 | December 23, 1984
Place of Birth: San Marcos, Tx
Family/Friends/Pets/Etc:

  • Parents: Diane Williams (57), Father: Levi James Williams (60, deceased)
  • Siblings: Austin Williams (35), Nathaniel Williams (25)
  • Son: Liam Scott Miller (12)
  • Husband: Scott Miller (30, believed to be deceased)
  • Dog: Scooter (7)
    14881572-10210632376143687-1608951712-o_1_orig.jpg

Physical Description

Height: 5’3”
Weight: 138 lbs
Eye Color: Honey brown
Typical Clothing/Equipment:
  • At work:
    • White lab/doctor’s coat
    • Black shirt with black leggings or scrub pants underneath the coat.
    • Black non-slip tennis shoes.
    • Hair in a ponytail.
  • At home or out in public:
    • Black t-shirt with blue jeans and black Nike’s and aviator style shades
    • Black tank top with black workout leggings.
    • Hair in a ponytail, very rarely does she every let it down.

Personality/Attributes

Personality/Attitude: Having had a son at such a young age, Aurora was forced to grow up faster than the rest of her peers. She is one to not only hold herself responsible for her actions but others as well, but believes that one mistake should not define a person. Being born to a military family, she learned how to take care of herself and be respectful to those that she considered above her. Her responses at time may sound blunt and a bit harsh but she means well, seeing as how sugarcoating was not something that was taught in her family. Her heart goes out to those in her community and she tries to help everyone that had once helped her through her tough times.

Skills/Talents: First aid and CPR, stitching up wounds, providing medical attention to animals
Goals/Ambitions: To assure a stable life for her son
Strengths: Compassion and her adaptability
Weaknesses: Her pride
Fears: That she will lose her son
Hobbies/Interests: Wildlife photography, reading, and raising animals
Regular Routine: Like clockwork, Aurora wakes up at 4:40 am in order to get herself ready for work and make breakfast for Liam before he heads out to school. By 5:45 am, the house is empty as she drives into town to open up her father’s veterinary clinic by 6 am. Her first employee arrives at 8 am and that’s when the real work begins. By 2 pm she is finalizing any and all daily tasks before saying her goodbyes to the closing employees and heading to her son’s school to pick him up. They get a treat every day right after school after running errands but before heading home. Maybe one day a week they visit the general store in town to pick up groceries as well as anything for his school projects. On Friday, she takes Liam to an old skate park near her old high school, and on weekends it is a free for all for the both of them. Each day, though, they are at the dinner table at 7 pm and in bed around 9 pm. Every other weekend her mother visits them and takes her son back to her home which is 4 hours away, leaving her alone.

Religion/Beliefs: Catholic
Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual
Place/Type of Residence: A cottage like, two story home a little south of the town.
Occupation: Owner and main veterinary
Place of Work: Cottonwood Falls Animal Hospital
Past Occupations:
  • Full time student at Texas State at San Marcos
  • Receptionist at Cottonwood Falls Animal Hospital



Avery Cortez | Reese Thompson – Fire Station 68, Southwest side of Houston


Billowing steam could practically be seen coming out of Avery’s ears as she glared at Reese, who stood by the door of their upstairs sleeping area. “Reese you can’t be that stupid! We’ve been shot at countless times now, and you still want to go back out there?! You and I both worked when Harvey hit; do you remember when stupid people shot at us then and you wanted to stay in? Now it’s three times as worse and you want to go back out there?” Avery’s mind could not wrap around her partner’s mentality. For several days in a row, it seemed as if the idiots of Houston were all on the same page. Shooting at people trying to help in order to loot their possessions. “Reese, if there are actual people needing help out there, they aren’t going to come out easily. Can you imagine how many people have tried to rob them?”


”You know, for someone who is supposed to be a wise and senior leader, you sure do panic a lot. I know people are out there begging for help, and I’m going to help them, with or without you.”


The woman’s eyes opened wide as Reese began to move around her and walk out the door, not giving her any time to make a game plan and go with him. He was much quicker than she thought too. Before she knew it, he had hopped into one of the emergency trucks and left. It had been six days since everything seemed to have gone south in Houston, which had driven many criminals to act out in a worse manner than when Hurricane Harvey hit. Avery stood there in the room, her anger quickly turning into regret as she listened to the truck leave the garage and down the driveway.

____________


The few sunrays that were able to break in through the boarded windows hit Avery’s arms, breaking her out of her reverie. Whenever they began to break through meant that either the sun was coming up or the sun was going down. It had been several weeks since Reese had left. In those weeks, Avery had spent her time boarding up the fire station and helping out those few that she and Reese had managed to bring in for shelter. The number of dead had increasing tremendously, which had thrown the survivors in Fire Station 68 to fortify their shelter.


”Ma’am?” Avery looked up quickly, seeing a young boy at the door with a worried look on his face. Reese and Avery had saved him and his mom from being surrounded by a group of dead, he had bonded with Reese the most and ever since he disappeared, the young boy had shut down. ”When is Reese going to come back?”


Avery stood up, having been sitting on her partner’s bed while in thought. “Hey buddy. I don’t want to lie to you… I don’t know when he’s coming back. I’m thinking he might have found his family and is focusing on keeping them safe. I’m sure we’ll run into him one day.” The woman tried to smile, in order to reassure the young boy, but all she could do was curl up one side of her lip in a half-assed crooked smile.


“Is everything okay down there? Nobody opened the garage right?” ”Nope. It’s been closed all day… but our water is running low now, mom said.” Avery sighed as she heard out the young boy, walking over to his and holding his hand, tugging him out of the room and downstairs to where everyone else was at. Since Reese’s departure and the increase in dead, and looters, Avery had two of the garage doors fortified as well, to only have one working garage door in which they came in and out of. Fortunately, as well, they already had a steel fence around the half acre of property. The survivors had made sure to build up a second fencing right behind the steel fence, adding a few feet of height. The past five weeks had been busy, and Avery surely thought that those inside the fire station thought she was being too overprotective, but if they were to survive not only the dead, but the living as well, they needed to take their precautions.

----



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Basics

Name: Liam Scott Miller
Date of Birth (& age): 12, July 2nd
Place of Birth: Austin, Texas
Family/Friends/Pets/Etc:
  • Parents: Aurora Jane Miller (29), Father: Scott Miller (30, believed to be deceased)
  • Grandparents: Diane Williams (57), Father: Levi James Williams (60, deceased)
  • Uncles: Austin Williams (35), Nathaniel Williams (25)
  • Dog: Scooter (7)

Physical Description

Height: 4’ 10”
Weight: 103 lbs
Eye Color: Hazel, leaning more towards green
Typical Clothing/Equipment:
  • Band t-shirt with blue jeans, black vans.
  • Sometimes wears a black hoodie.
  • At home he wears basketball shorts or sweats with plain tshirts.

Personality/Attributes

Personality/Attitude: Liam is, overall, a happy kid. He spends a good amount of time with his mother as well as his friends at the skate park. There are times where he does break away from his happy, goofy self, and wants to only be in his room. He tries his best to be a strong son but there are times where the emotions are too strong and he does not know how to let them out properly so he chooses to isolate himself until his happy mood returns. His grades are decent and hardly misses class thanks to his mom being on his back constantly.

Skills/Talents: Skateboarding, being sociable, problem solving.
Goals/Ambitions: To be able to make his mother proud by obtaining enough scholarships so she won’t have to worry about him.
Strengths: Being able to make friends out of the most reluctant people.
Weaknesses: Saying things without thinking about who he might offend.
Fears: Growing up without a father and losing his mother as well.
Hobbies/Interests: Skateboarding, basketball, Mario Kart.

Regular Routine: Monday through Friday Liam wakes up at 5 am in order to shower and meet his mom downstairs for breakfast. At 5:45 he is out of the house and taking the bus with his friends, even though it is a bit of a walk from his house to the bus stop. He starts school at 7 am and by 2:45 his mom is outside ready for them to leave. He runs errands with his mom and sometimes stops by the animal clinic to help change out the water and food. Before returning home they get a treat and then wait until it’s dinner time. Every other weekend his grandmother comes into town to pick him up and he goes back to her house, leaving his mother alone.

Religion/Beliefs: Catholic
Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual
Place/Type of Residence: A cottage like, two story home a little south of the town.
Occupation: None
Place of Work: N/A
Past Occupations: N/A

Additional Notes
  • Volunteers at his mother’s animal hospital
  • Volunteers at the local museum
 
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is this open still?
 
Aight I will get my char up this week. Likely weekend. :D
 
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@Wolverbells
@PavellumPendulum
@Zackymas
@Akashi
@Hell Hound Woof
@Mr.Scales ⚖

Hey everyone! I plan to kick off this roleplay this Thursday (July 25th)!!! First introductory post will be up that day. Like the overview states, the first post will be about the final public debate between the current mayor of Cottonwood Falls and his running mate. We are in the year 2013, so take that into consideration when it comes to certain technological advancements. This is also a very small rural town so they don’t have shopping malls and innovative phone stores, etc. Instead they have a museum of history, a single general store where everyone in the town shops and a lot of farmland.

Please try and have your characters posted in the next few days so you don’t miss on the fun! Thank you and I hope we give this a good run!
 

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Basics
Name: Lincoln Hunsucker
Date of Birth: January 12th, 1978
Place of Birth: Manning, South Carolina
Family: Tania Hunsucker (Daughter)
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Physical Description
Height: 6ft
Weight: 170lbs
Eye Color: Green
Typical Clothing: Typically seen wearing jeans with a wife beater tucked into the waist. His shirts range from
old ACDC to Lynyrd Skynyrd and an occasional flannel. Though he only owns three pair of shoes he's never seen
sporting his nice loafers. Instead he opts to wear his work-boots or a pair of dirty red vans.

Attributes

Personality/Attitude: Lincoln is a man with a complicated duality buried in his soul. Though he is a hardened criminal he is striving to set an example for his daughter. In recent days he's been adapting to the real worlds social do's and don'ts. Typically he speaks softly enough to not come off as aggressive. However when pushed he wont resist the urge to enact violence. When his daughter isnt around he speaks much more crudely often unmasking his more cynical sense of the world.
Skills/Talents: In the short time he was a free man before his incarceration he learned little except the criminal's basics. However he found himself deeply interested in both firearms and unarmed combat. After spending years on the inside he grew into a vicious animal with lethal intent. When it comes to doing a task he generally doesnt shy away no matter the risk.
Goals/Ambitions: The pride of man is a dangerous thing. Inside it calls for Lincoln to prove himself as the dangerous bastard he was in his younger years. Another part demands him to be a better man for his daughter. It is a hard line to walk between a dangerous man and a good one.

Strengths: He's a capable athlete with years of violence behind him. He's been through his share of fights and picked up a number of ways to hurt people. He excels most in hand to hand combat by utilizing whatever part of him he can to harm someone, often considered dirty moves.With some practice since his freedom from incarceration he's remastered his pistol marksmanship.
Weaknesses: He's not terribly intelligent which often leads to him making rash decisions in the heat of a moment. His only real concern is his daughter's safety which presents a unique problem with the independent teenager's mind.
Fears: Tight spaces, dying alone, the loss of his daughter, spiders
Hobbies/Interests: Lincoln has few hobbies to speak of. A fair portion of his 15 years of incarceration was spent in solitary confinement where he learned an appreciation for reading but his main pass time is whittling. He's known to like explosions, fast women, guns, explosions, booze, and generally a good time.

Regular Routine: On a typical morning Lincoln can be found in a strange place with some number of bruises but since kidnapping his daughter he's been sleeping on a couch in a small RV. Waking up every morning to have a cigarette then make her breakfast before commencing his exercise routine. Afterwards a quick breakfast then begin driving to the next town.
Religion/Beliefs: Previously Southern Baptist, currently undecided.
Sexual Orientation: Straight
Place/Type of Residence: Mobile Home
Occupation: Unemployed
Place of Work: Roaming
Past Occupations: Career Criminal, Security Guard (Fired), Insurance Clerk (Fired), Dock Hand (Quit),
Additional Notes: He's currently learning Spanish from his daughter, Tania.

[TD]

Alongside the side of highway 59 sat a parked vehicle angled into the curb. The vehicle was a 1998 Yukon with smoke billowing from the open engine compartment. From beneath the hood a cacophony of cursing and coughing came. A girl sitting on a towel was atop the vehicle wearing sunglasses, jeans, and a bikini top. Below the hood was the girls middle aged father wearing a cut off flannel vest over a black t shirt. In his pocket were two dirty rags tied together. With a grumble he wrapped his left forearm with the rags. The man worked his hand between crack of the hot engine while navigating around the smoke coming towards him. Inside the engine he could feel some component that moved easily. Unsure of what it could be he pulled towards him. With a new airway exposed more smoke began furrowing out of the engine compartment. As smoke flew into his left eye he reeled back rubbing his face with the back of his left hand. The soot on the back of his hand spread across his forehead and cheek. In frustration he swung his right arm in a sweep above the engine trying to clear some of the smoke. Through his coughing Tania could make out a few well articulated curses. Though she tried to stifle it a small chuckle escaped her lips thus eliciting her father to grumble something.



“Punk ass…” Lincoln growled under his breath, “Tanning while I’m… sitting like a damn princess…”



Tania prepared a snide remark in her mind but immediately dropped it from thought as a member of the undead came into the street. It had been in an alley down the street and emerged trying to cross. The creature didnt notice the pair as it snarled at the empty air ahead of it. Tania’s lip curled slightly in disgust at the creature’s face. It's hanging half loose with a gash cut into the bridge of it. She cleared her throat loudly in an attempt to get her father’s attention but he ignored her. It wasnt the first time he'd ignored her either. She tended to have a habit of making his anguish her entertainment. He instead stared down into the smoking engine compartment trying to figure out what it was that was wrong. Lincoln's knowledge didnt extend to the mechanical side of the world. That had always been his brother's expertise. Lincoln longed for his family to be here with him. This vehicle could have easily been a smart car to his eyes which only frustrated him even more. He heard his daughter clear her throat again. The assumption he made was that she was trying to catch his attention to deliver a well timed middle finger as she often did. He wiped his now tearing eye with the cleanest part of his shirt’s collar before diving back into the engine compartment. With her father choosing to ignore her she felt the impending danger. Tania’s hand crept over the roof of the Yukon to where her revolver sat and began working her fingers around the tape wrapped handle. Lincoln wrapped his right hand around a worn rubber line that sat directly above a space where the smoke seemed to be coming from. He gave it a light tug in an attempt to move it out of his way then upon encountering resistance changed his grip. He wrapped his right hand underhanded around the line and then set his hand on the chassis for support. However the hot engine surprised him and he withdrew his hand while leaning back. The line came loose from the weight of Lincoln's body causing some liquid to run over the engine that caused more gaseous distraction. Lincoln relinquished his grip and backpedaled away from the vehicle with a grimace on his face. He shook his hand through the air while he let out a wince. At about 3 paces away from the Yukon he began moving back towards the vehicle quickly. He planted one foot then raised the other to delivered a hard booted heel to the grill which dented the ‘m’ in the GMC logo. The corpse that had moved into the street was now drawn towards the noise and the smoking vehicle. Lincoln’s anger had given impetus to the undead who now seemed to move with a purpose. Tania atop the vehicle picked up her weapon then drew the sights on the undead head. The ugly looking corpse looked directly at her as it approached. Unnerved as she was she thumbed back the hammer of her pistol.



“Dad, there’s one coming from over there,” She kept her pistol raised and let him follow the line of fire to it’s location.



“I gotcha baby…” Lincoln said quickly as he scooped up the axe handle that had been leaning on the side of the Yukon, “I’ll handle him you just keep an eye out for any extra.”



Playfully he brandished the weapon a moment. The ax handle had been Lincoln's weapon of choice since all this began. Lincoln had seen a Clint Eastwood movie when he was a child where the leading man fought off four attackers with an axe handle. Personally he'd always wanted to try it. The creature’s detached nose swung as it lumbered towards the vehicle with both arms outstretched. Lincoln raised the axe handle to his shoulder as he sauntered up to the ugly undead and cockily waited as it approached further. He looked at it’s torn shirt, the chain around it’s neck that had been dug into it’s flesh, the gnarled fingers and their broken nails, it’s own nose swinging in front of it’s mouth. 'Imagine being that,' he thought to himself. He looked at one of the few tattoos that was visible on it’s hand and read ‘Sur 13’. Immediately a memory was called to mind of a man he had been locked in a cell with during his prison sentence. The man was some idiot who had ratted on his own crew, Sur 13, and was planning to let slip information about the organizations on the inside. Lincoln did what he was paid to do and delivered judgement the day of the hit. Though well orchestrated the attack hardly went as planned. That man had been a fighter even with a shiv stuck in his gut. He managed to break Lincoln’s wrist during the struggle but Lincoln managed a proper slash to the man's throat. With that memory in mind Lincoln decided how to handle the creature. Thinking about getting his own little bit of payback in a consequence free way. He let the axe handle lazily fall off his shoulder then with the weight of it swung up through the undead's arms. The force of the strike shattered both radius and ulna of either arm while knocking them away and turning the undead to the side. With the attacking face of his target no longer angled towards him Lincoln began to play with his prey. He raised the axe handle lazily in one hand then placed it’s flat top against the ugly creature’s shoulder. He leaned and extended his arm with a little force to throw the corpse off balance. He watched as it stumbled then faltered falling to a knee. It tried to raise itself before Lincoln had the idea to kick it while it was down. He took a small step back then raised a booted foot before planting it in the undead chest ahead of him. As it made contact the air held in the body was pushed outward directly at Lincoln. With a retch Lincoln stepped back a moment. The appalling smell of fermenting decay gave the corpse a momentary respite from the beating. It sat back on it's haunches with it's legs pinned underneath it trying to right itself upwards. Lincoln chuckled as he began circling the creature watching it claw at him fervently. Eventually it began to crawl towards him with it's mangled arms barely moving it forward. After a moment it outstretched it's legs and began to right itself. The creature sidestepped shakily then refocused on Lincoln.



“I got something for you, right here mother-fucker,” He said through a gritted smile as he took a batter's stance.



He leaned back on his right foot a moment as he took a breath. He swung through the air to strike the dead head at an slight angle across the jaw. Snarl, Thunk, Splat. The undead’s knees buckled before it fell to the floor with it’s jaw shattered and it’s head twisted at an angle. Lincoln let the bloody end of his weapon hang in the air a moment while he stared down at the grotesque ex-person that now writhed pitifully on the ground. He thought about it and figured he may as well vent some frustrations now. Tania had been watching the entire time and as usual didnt approve of her father’s playful attitude towards violence. As she watched she saw him raise the handle above his head before bringing it down. When it struck the top of the creatures skull she could hear the sound of pressure releasing with a wet pop. She cringed at the sound, closing her eyes as she heard it repeat, then again, then finally the thud of wood on concrete. Lincoln sat there a moment with the handle dripping on the ground as he wiped the hair from his face. Tania didnt have her father's stomach for gruesome things. Though she knew how his youth had shaped him she still couldnt help but hope for the inner Mr. Rogers to come out of her father. When she opened her eyes to see her father admire his work she caught a glint of something across her eyes. Looking down the road she saw a vehicle approaching. Immediately she lowered herself as to not silhouette against the background of the city streets. She wrapped the towel around her chest then began grabbing her things from the roof of the Yukon. The girl was procedurally flawless as she rolled from the hood of the car slowly while announcing to her father the approaching threat.



“Dad! There’s a car!” She exclaimed quietly, “Get out of the road!”



Lincoln quickly moved away from the corpse while staring his daughter down, “Stay near the Yuki and dont let them see you. If they stop I’ll take them away from here and handle if I need to.”



“I know what to do…” Tania said with her snippy undertone ever present, “Not like we havent been doing this for a month.”



Lincoln ignored her snide remarks and sarcasm in an effort to stay focused on the threat ahead. The pair exchanged reassuring looks to one another as they readied themselves for what was about to happen. The dead were trouble but the living were worse. He took cover behind the front of a small black Camry facing the Yukon from 10 yards away. Leaning out Lincoln watched as the vehicle came down the road. He reached into his beltline to draw the .45 he’d had almost his entire life. Lincoln’s aim with this pistol had improved recently, if he were to miss it wouldnt be by much. Maybe a millimeter or two but he knew to hit his mark. He knew it would keep him and his daughter safe provided he had ammunition for it. With the pistol raised next to his head he crouched back behind the passenger side door. Inside the vehicle he saw a shadow cast on the dusty windshield. Setting down the axe handle for just a second he cocked back the slide to chamber a round before picking up his weapon again. Inside the camry he saw a member of the undead begin to stir. The creature sat quietly snarling in the back seat with it’s belt across it’s mid section while looking around the interior for anything to grab. Lincoln peeked slightly over the hood and through the dust covered windshield. Looking at the undead he could hardly stifle a groan at the size of the large man. The undead easily outweighed him by 100 pounds or more but such was the only reason it remained restrained. Lincoln figured the people who'd been driving made the same choice he was going to make. With the decision to conserve his energy Lincoln chose to ignore the undead at first. Looking over the hood of the car he saw the car approaching quickly. He thought about it how they could have found him then realized the giant smoke stack he'd been sitting under like a free meal. Whatever or whomever that spotted it could be headed here even now. With that realization he angrily decided that after this incursion he would destroy that SUV if it was the last thing he ever did. As the other car neared he could hear it's breaks screech a moment as it stopped. Nervously he looked towards the undead stuck in the back of the car. It seemed to want to attack whoever was in the car. It began trying to reach the back passenger window facing towards the approaching vehicle. The camry shook slightly at first then more as the corpse grew more agitated. With his cover now a homing beacon to any curious undead or traveler Lincoln felt decidedly less confident about the situation. With a sigh he raised his pistol in one hand towards the now stopped vehicle. Waiting for the door to swing open before firing a shot he sat there in that moment. Feeling the wind, hearing the snarling from inside the camry, waiting for anything.
NBRsod02pdxaNMB9CPb_3NOsv0G0IenVpMtKA6JWJ2Pi2uGuzgICKgw8IIOX7ZAxvYWqeh2aTSYcfw9eqL8merMHNNiThFtXBcnBkBTXZQn6QWhn6QRIoMhNKVyGZ0Xcpz7dD-YW
Basics Name: Tania Carolina Hunsucker
Date of Birth: April 20th, 1996
Place of Birth: Augusta, Georgia
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Physical Description

Height: 5'7
Weight: 130lbs
Eye Color: Brown
Typical Clothing: Tania would wear a pair of shorts and a loose t shirt every day if her father let her. Nowadays she wears jeans and a t shirt, often some over shirt to keep her modest. She prefers more alternative fashion options and will likely wear too much makeup. Her bracelets are always on her wrist as they were gifts from her mother.

Attributes Occupation: Cashier (Formerly)
Place of Work: None
Past Occupations: Cashier, Hostess Additional
Notes: Tania is independent despite her father's wishes. She prefers to move on her own but understands that in this world she must protect those she knows and loves. She is often standoffish as is common of girls her age. Her father can set her into a tiff easily without trying but she recognizes he cannot help himself from commenting. One of her most startling traits is her attitude towards women and his father. A mix of protecting her mother's memory and protecting her emotional simpleton of a father from the wiles of women drives her cold demeanor.
 
Image: (Real Life)
181640

Basics
Name: Pedro Antonio Rosario
Date of Birth (& age): May 2nd, 1982 (31)
Place of Birth: Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic
Family/Friends/Pets/Etc:
  • Marisa Rodriguez Rosario (Mother, deceased)
  • Juan Perez (Father, MIA)
  • Frailin Ester Rosario (Brother)

Physical Description
Height: 5’9
Weight: 140 lbs
Eye Color: Coffee brown
Typical Clothing/Equipment: During work hours, Pedro wears the bakery’s uniform, which consists of a white cook shirt, black pants, and a white apron.
Outside of work, Pedro wears chinos of varying colors, either navy blue or black or khaki, along a simple button up shirt.

Personality/Attributes
Personality/Attitude: Pedro’s got a short temper. He’ll often lash out at the other employees, but when that door is closed, all is gone and forgotten, and they’ll often all together go out to drink or play some games. Just as he’s easily angered, he’s easily amused, he often get distracted and it requires real effort for him to put all his focus on a task without his mind just wandering off on its own, perhaps why he often gets so angry when he sees other people doing the same, of course, he’s not aware of this. Besides that, he likes jokes, he’ll crack one in whatever moment or way he finds, which has often gotten him in trouble, especially with some racist or sexist comments that might spring on his mind, He’ll often curse his father for it, whom mostly shaped Pedro’s humor and viewpoints.
Skills/Talents: Bakery, cooking, negotiation, singing.
Goals/Ambitions: To get rid of his father’s influence, to honor his mother’s pleas to him and his brother (to be good to one another, and to use what she left them [the bakery] to improve their lives).
Strengths: Tasting, brawling, analysing things down to their basic components.
Weaknesses: Patience, shooting, empathy.
Fears: Dogs, heights, infidelity.
Hobbies/Interests: Playing video games, baking, music.
Regular Routine: Pedro wakes up at 7AM to prepare breakfast, which usually consists of homemade bread, pancakes, scrambled eggs, and on the occasion, plantains, yucca, and other tubers. He works 8-6 in the bakery. He oversees activities, deals with customers, and takes hand in the bigger orders. On weekdays, he’ll come back home to dine whatever he can snatch from the fridge, usually a sandwich, or rice and beans, on the occasion, he’ll cook pasta. After dinner, he’ll bake the week’s bread and sing in tune to his heart’s content, usually but not limited to hispanic ballads.
On the weekends, the bakery closes at four, so he’ll take time to go out with the other employees. They’ll often get together at his house to play video games and drink beer.
Religion/Beliefs: Agnostic
Sexual Orientation: Straight
Place/Type of Residence: Two-rooms one story house.
Occupation: Baker
Place of Work: Marisa’s Bakery
Past Occupations: None. He’s worked in his mother’s bakery since he was a child.
Additional Notes: Pedro’s had a few breakups, but he’s willing to try again.



Marcus rubbed the back of his neck. It was sticky with sweat. He fingered it a little, and felt the wind rush as he prickled at an old pimple. The bench bent under his weight with each passing breath he fought for. Today they had run ten miles, way more than they’d ever done before. It was like a small splinter pierced his lungs before lighting into an specle of fire.
Air grazed Marcus’s shoulders as the basketball hit the middle of his face, slightly twisting his nose. He tumbled backwards and Martin laughed at him when he wiped the blood off dripping down from his nostrils. What a twisted sense of humor, Marcus thought. It wasn’t the first time it happened, Martin had taken it upon himself to somehow attempt to anger Marcus at least once a week. He was a foot taller, and a few pounds heavier, but he didn’t feel sure of himself and wanted to assert his dominance, so Marcus thought at least.
Last week, when Marcus took a sip of his water bottle, the felt the unholy liquid burn down his throat and somehow stick to his pharynx, someone making him itchy inside. He knew that wasn’t possible, since itch is a skin reaction, but he felt itchy, inside, in his throat, in his bowels, in his tongue and his stomach, he felt it itch and burn like an old metal rod feels oxygen gnawing at its surface. Martin burst out laughing and even fell to the ground, holding his stomach in that comical way cartoon characters often do, when he saw Martin cough and hit his chest like he was about to die. He’d salted Marcus’s water while he wasn’t looking. Marcus was still curious as to what amount or type of salt could make him feel that way.
It was dark when practice finished. The coach had trusted him a copy of the key, so he was the last to go. He didn’t expect anyone to be around when he closed the gym. He wanted a drink. He could get one, after all, it was friday, he wouldn’t have to work the following day. Good, it was decided then, he’d get a drink, perhaps hit on some girls on the way. For some reason Marcus popped in his head. He wanted to kill the little bastard. He always wore that mug smile, with those almost shallow eyes, he couldn’t describe it. It made him furious, it was as if he looked down on him, like a nurse looks down on a hurt child, not with any malicious intent, but with an obvious air of pity and superiority. As if on cue, Martin heard him.
“Hi Martin,” Marcus said.
“What do you want idiot? Go home.” Martin kept on locking the door, not turning to see the brass knuckles on Marcus’s fists.
“To teach you a lesson.”
And just like that, Martin heard something crack, and it took him a second to realise it was his own skull smashing against the metal door. Something kicked at his knee, and he fell to the ground, and just like that, his mind came back into his body, and a wave of pain rushed as he felt the side of his skull bent inwards and poking his brain, if that were possible. He heaved for air as the feeling of a hangover multiplied by fifty washed over him. Marcus punched his gut and whatever air he had managed to get, now belonged to Marcus. Yes, it belonged to Marcus. He didn’t have any right to take it, he thought.
He looked up, feeling his legs wobble, even though he was on the ground, he was about to throw up. Marcus loomed over him, his shadow cast over Martin by the evening’s moon. He looked down at Martin with those empty shallow eyes, and his mouth wasn’t a smirk or a smile, it was a firm line and he wasn’t angry or full of hatred, but calm and composed, as teacher about to teach a complex class on the atomic links formed by gallium and beryllium. He was a teacher, and Martin was the entitled student who’d just been hit with the realisation of a failing semester.
“I’m here to teach you a lesson.”
 
600px-Willdifferentgun.jpg

Name: Damian Wale
Date of Birth (& age): August 16th, 1969 (44 yo)
Place of Birth: Topeka, Kansas
Family/Friends/Pets/Etc:
Father: Pritchard Wale (Deceased)
Mother: Catherine Torp
Sister: Emily Wale Torp
Ex-wife: Anna Wale
Daughter: Cassie Wale
Niece: Tessa Blake
Nephew: Connor Blake

Physical Description
Height: 6'1/2 (187cm)
Weight: 201lbs (91kg)
Eye Color: Green
Typical Clothing/Equipment:
From short sleeve to long sleeved buttoned down shirt. Otherwise simple brown/black pants with shoes. A leather jacket on occasion.

Personality/Attributes
Personality/Attitude: Has a simple yet noteworthy attitude. Has that smile that can be charming when talking to ladies. But that's just how it is. Not something he tries to do on purpose. He doesn't have anyone like that in mind. Other than that, has a relative easy-straightforward attitude. Has a rather carefree personality about most things. What may come, should come. Adapts accordingly and has an optimistic, yet realistic view of the world.

Skills/Talents: Shooting, tracking, survivalist, cqc.
Goals/Ambitions: To see a change in Cottonwood Falls.
Strengths: Strategic, enthusiastic and confident.
Weaknesses: Aggressive, blunt, hard.
Fears: Losing his daughter, his family.
Hobbies/Interests: American Football, jogging, smoking cigars.

Regular Routine: Damian wakes up at 5 AM for a regular jog, but on occasion, not all the time. Normally is at the Cottonwood Falls Mill around 7-8PM. Works there until 4-5PM. Has a simple breakfast. From eggs and bacon to some cereal. Black coffee with two sugar bars. Tries to spend most or some time with his daughter, or helps his little sister who always seems to have an issue with her own husband. They're separated. Tries to be there for his niece and nephew.

Religion/Beliefs: Catholic
Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual
Place/Type of Residence: A simple house in Cottonwood Falls
Occupation: Mill Worker
Place of Work: Cottonwood Falls Mill
Past Occupations:
Military
NAVY SEALs

Three days ago...

In a small town where everyone may know one another to some extent, it wouldn't be a surprise if you would run into someone from your past. However, the odds would increase if you were from such a place. The sun was setting, and night was right around the corner. Dinah Lake, a loyal member of a the Blood Pearl, a werewolf pack she considered her family, was there to meet up with her long lost, but good friend. A man named Henry Dunlab. Walking down the streets, and towards the diner where they were about to meet, everything felt nostalgic. The place was still the same, and it had been a decade since she left. This place was her hometown too, once.

She had sent her old buddy a few texts but there was no response, nor did Martin pick up the phone. Regardless of him being unresponsive to her text messages, she was hoping he'd be at Sally's Diner. Though when she could finally see it, a crowd had gathered up. There were police cars and an ambulance there. People were mumbling, and trying to look deeper into the alley way. There was yellow tape preventing them from entering. Approaching with curiosity, Dinah did wonder what had happened. Pushing through the crowd, she eventually stopped before the yellow tape.

"Ma'am, you can't come any further. This is an active crime scene. Stay behind the tape.." A police officer spoke up, though towards someone who was standing next to Dinah.

Looking over his shoulder, Dinah could smell that something was burning, or had burned, and the smell of blood. Eventually, a random person in the crowd was talking to his friend. The dead person in the alley way, was apparently stuck in a wall. A silver pole went right through his stomach, having his dead corpse pinned against the wall. The head was decapitated as well.

That alone there, caught Dinah's attention the most. It couldn't be Henry? Could it? Moving around the crowd, she tried to find a better view. Once she did get it, her eyes widened. She could see the severed head. The corpse pinned to the wall, and the bloody pole being the reason. Nervous, confused, afraid, she gasped, her hands before her mouth. Dinah was almost about to cry.

She couldn't look at Henry any more. Instead, she quickly looked around the vicinity. To see if anyone was perhaps watching her. Maybe she was paranoid, but being a werewolf, a supernatural being, she had to be careful. Walking away with speed, she pulled her phone up and called Dorian, the Alpha of the Blood Pearl. "Dorian.. Dorian.."

"Hehey, you meet up with Henry yet?"

"He.. He's.."

When Dorian noticed the tension, the concern in Dinah's voice, his expression became serious. "Calm down, what happened?"

"Henry is dead... And it seems like it happened recently.."

"What!?"

"I'll call you later. I'll be home in about two days.. Before the festival."

"Wait, Dina--" Click, and Dinah had hung up the phone.

Meanwhile, in a corner somewhere close to the crime scene, there was a man wearing a hat, and a black trenchoat. A necklace with a cross around his neck. Holding the cross, he was observing, while whispering something over and over again. "The name of the righteous is used in blessings, but the name of the wicked will rot. " But he too, eventually disappeared.

____________________


New Orleans, Louisiana
Present day...

Bonfires, drinks, barbeque, you name it. Behind the mansion where the Alpha of the Blood Pearl was living, a festival was undergoing. It was night, and most of the members of the pack had gathered up. It was not just a festival to them, it was a sacred day. It wasn't mandatory to show up, but it would be considered almost a taboo if one didn't. It was more or less an unwritten rule. First and foremost, everyone that was a part of the pack were more than just a human. They were transcended beings. Though their true nature was hidden from the naked eye. To the world, werewolves was just a fairy tale. Or a show, move on the television.

Food stalls, people mingling and so on. The festival had just begun. Cars had gathered up by the entrance to their lovely mansion. Some would rather run through the forest in order to get there. Nevertheless, this was an important day for Dorian. His pack was his family, and a family he would protect no matter what. Like always, he would have a big chug of beer in his hand. "Everyone.. Everyone.. Gather up." Catching their attention, he took a pause.

"Moon festival. The one day where we offer the hunt to the wolf spirit. To be blessed for the life, the gift given to us, and to prosper for many, many generations to come."

"To some of you, or maybe all of you, I find this day really important to me, and I'm glad that you, my family are here."

"I'm not going to take much of your time, because we all know when I get too much alcohol in me, I can talk for hours." Raising his chug, a cocky smile was plastered on his face.

"Drink and have fun, because when midnight strikes, we'll HUNT.." Drinking his beer, Dorian felt absolutely refreshed. The members of the pack raised their voice in agreement. They were happy, excited and began to party. For now that is.

Then there was Dinah Lake, who was sitting on a log by one of the bonfires, still shook over the death of Henry Dunlab. So far, only Dorian knew the details, but he felt that it was too quick to make a conclusion. Maybe it wasn't the hunters. They've been gone for so many years, they are practically none-existant. Besides, the werewolves around the world has done a damn good job at hiding and blending in with the humans. Approaching Dinah, Dorian took a seat next ot her.

"So, Dinah." Dorian had a thoughtful expression plastered on her face.

"I'm not going to mention Henry until you're ready to talk about it, but.. Later tonight, before midnight, there are a few werewolves who wants to meet us in the city. So I'm considering sending some of our people to meet them. Talk with them, bring some fresh new blood to extend our family."

Dinah turned her head to the side, looking at Dorian. "Heh.. It's no surprise that you don't turn away lone wolves, Dorian."

"Well yeah.. Perhaps some fresh blood is exactly what we need here. What you need.. Right?" Patting Dinah on the shoulder, he continued. "I should get to the others."

"I'm just glad you're back." Having said that, he left Dinah, to go and interact with the others.
 
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