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Mglo

Whatever you do, do it with style.
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Posting Speed
  1. One post per week
Writing Levels
  1. Adept
  2. Adaptable
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Primarily Prefer Male
Genres
As long as the plot's good I'm in. That says nothing useful though... so I'll say: sci-fi, fantasy, I'm curious enough about horror to add it, aaaand action? yeah, ok, sure, action!
  • 24618251bdfedf84d508d79a347b2990.jpg


  • The year is 2164.

    My name is Royce Elliot and I am a survivor by association, at least for the past four years. I've been asked to write down everything I know, and have lived through, before arriving here.

    Let’s start at the beginning of the end, 4 years ago. The first outbreak.
    You’d think a technologically advanced society like ours could handle a little virus. In fact, we could. We’d done it before. The difference this time around was that THE virus had corporate backing. It was designed to be a biological weapon. The first outbreak was caused by accidental contamination during testing. No biggie. The corporate hands covered it up as a new strain of the flu while they cleaned up their mess. What they didn’t count on, was for it to mutate so rapidly and so dangerously. Who was infected? Who wasn’t? We couldn’t even tell.

    Our advanced technology bit us right in the ass when we most needed it.
    By the time they figured it out, that the virus had spread among us without notice, it was too late. Suddenly people fell ill and started dying. Except, they didn’t stay quite dead. One bite, enough contact with their fluids and it was over. We threw all our technology at it, but only accomplished to destroy our surroundings. We destroyed a lot of our technology in the process. We were afraid and stupid, and not at all united. Each country did its own thing and later regretted it.

    Some genius and his squad in Scotland created a safe city they called Leven. To my knowledge then, the only of its kind. A city untouched by the living dead. Now I know better, but I digress. Leven remained intact thanks to the charismatic leaders. But they were all powerful in that city and power changes people. In their hands Leven became a dystopian society. A totalitarian regime.

    The regime controlled everything using fear tactics on the population. Feelings and artistic expression were outlawed. Citizens were required to take a daily dose of emotion suppressants. Citizens were content to exist to continue their existence. They did not realize they were not really living. We were a different type of Zombie in Leven.

    Thankfully I worked for the Technology Division, led by the aforementioned genius, and I worked directly for him. That saved me from the drug he ironically created, but it also saved me from Leven. He and his leader friend, Preston, planned to overthrow the tyranny but their plan took too long. The ideology was sealed and Leven could not be truly saved. Instead, we escaped, along with a couple citizens and refugees for whom there was still hope.

    Alas, during our escape and the storm that helped bring about Leven's end, we were separated. We have not heard from Preston Wiles or Nicolas Rio, but we did leave behind messages in case they are still looking for us. We, on the other hand, reached a safe zone in London from which we were soon kicked out. The child, Rosalina, turned out to be infected... we didn't know. We vouched for her and when she turned and killed a Londoner we were thrown out. A fisherman was nice enough to take us to the mainland, he said we wouldn't find another safe zone in the UK. We spent over a month near the shore because the mainland zombies turned out to be very much different from the ones we knew. Somewhere at the border of France and Belgium, we were found by a group of people that helped us out. It took a while, but eventually they came to trust us and invited us to Luxenbourg, a very large safe zone maintained by the allied forces of Germany, France, and Belgium.

    Luxenbourg is still beautiful despite the disasters that have befallen us all, but it is also a highly organized and meticulously kept. It is an ant colony in many ways. It has to be, considering the zombie mutations that have happened in the area. I'm more of an intellectual, particularly when it comes to organizational situations, and so I have been assigned to a position far away from the borders. I will be safe so long as this country stands. I'm not sure that the others will be so lucky. They've been in training as far as I've been told, although training for what? That I haven't been informed. Time's up. Back to work.

    Royce Elliott​


  • 3 Character Limit​



  • Your character sheet can be as simple or extensive as you wish. Most of the action should happen IC, but it would be interesting to know some details about your character that might be unlikely for us to find out through IC. Up to you.
    ✖ ✖ ✖

    Name:

    Age: (No restrictions, but keep In mind that in case of a confrontation the younger ones, i.e. kids, are more likely to die D: )

    Gender:

    Origin: (For all we know you were a tourist that got stuck In Lux during the outbreak. Or, like Royce's group, you come from somewhere else. Mebbe, you've been here all along but that means you could be German, Belgian, or French too.)

    Occupation: (can be the occupation they had before outbreak if they're still being employed for those skills, or occupation in Luxembourg safe zone, or if they're new to Lux then your planned job in there)

    Appearance: (Picture and/or description is fine. No restrictions on pictures but if you're going to do a real person don't pick someone widely known.)


    Personality:

    Biography:


    Weapon: This is on the sci-fi side so no limitations here either, so long as you keep in mind that more technologically advanced weapons have a limiter. As in, most people are citizens turned soldiers, they only have a basic training and understanding of things so they're not going to engineer/invent/fix advanced technology on the spot. Unless, you were some sort of a weapon designer in your pre-outbreak occupation. *shrugs* Just keep things logical.

    Relationships:(Any connections to the other characters. You can add this as we go or pre-establish it by contacting others. I'm more than willing to help with that so PM me!)


  • >>>Summary of Events<<<
    Co-mod: @ItariChan

    Guidelines
    I won't deny a character so long as they're internally consistent.
    Don't be a dick to other players even if your character is a dick.
    use gud grammahr
    So long as you keep things logical, you have free reign of this RP world.
    If you go a bit nuts I'll step in, but I'm not a control freak type GM.
    I'll be throwing things at you, and have a vaguely organized chapter-like deal going on.
    No mercenaries, assassins, thieves, and the like (unless it's a side-job/behind closed doors type of thing)
    lu-2_zpspp0uxd32.gif

    Stuff from the Group RP AD
    Newly created RP... sorta. It's more of a Season 2 of an old RP but starting fresh and from zero. Storyline pretty much summarizes it all and there's relatively little info about this new one because I'm a believer in incorporating player ideas. Basically, and I sort of hinted at it, this RP will take place in an ant colony sort of safe zone where everybody works together and cares for each other. The particular family-feel comes from the fact that zombie mutations in the area have these people much more cornered than the typical zombie creation. Having said that, it doesn't mean that everybody is all about love and peace, on the contrary, survival life with the constant threat of a zombie breach pushes some into ruthlessness.... yeh. Ask away, make suggestions, please! It helps me give this more shape and lead it in the direction, more or less, that the group wants.

    Zombie mutations: Think resident evil, bio-mechas, uh... what's that other game with the- Left 4 dead.

    Weapons: I'm inclined to allow mechas since this safe zone is more extensive and we have the cooperation of 4 countries so resources should be enough to have and maintain a few mechas.


[btn=modc|https://www.iwakuroleplay.com/threads/containment.140775/|self]IC THREAD[/btn] [btn=modc|https://www.iwakuroleplay.com/threads/containment.140624/|self]GROUP RP AD[/btn] [btn=modc|http://otakuworldme.enjin.com/rpintermediateworld/viewforum/5007115/m/12122311|self]ORIGINATOR[/btn]

 
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[BCOLOR=#800000]× V e r a F a i r c h i l d ×[/BCOLOR]

XXII |||| American || Combat Pilot

"Flectere si nequeo superos acheronta movebo."
______


"If I cannot m o v e h e a v e n, then I will r a i s e h e l l."

[BCOLOR=#800000]× A P P E A R A N C E ×[/BCOLOR]

Brawny || Meticulously Dyed Hair || 6'0" || Mechanical Arm

[BCOLOR=#800000]× P E R S O N A L I T Y ×[/BCOLOR]
Some people are simply a n g r y and there are few simpler words to describe Vera. Losing her family did nothing to quell the rage that perennially bubbled within her. Being left with nothing on this earth besides Nadia to keep her sane, some would say that Vera's come a little mentally untethered. Admittedly, that could just be a side effect of the Chain. Impulsive, aggressive, foul-mouthed and prideful, Vera could be considered a liability if not for her immense skill in an under-utilized military field. She's strongly protective of Nadia, feeling almost duty bound to keep her alive.​

[BCOLOR=#800000]× B I O G R A P H Y ×[/BCOLOR]
She was born in the suburbs of Chicago to hardworking and loving parents. Both her mother and father had served in the military, mother being a Marine and father spending most of his career in the Navy, but they had settled down in the Midwest to carry on more mundane lives. Vera was actually born in Hawaii at the end of her father's service, from what she's told, but she was young when they took up their roots and made a new home and only remembers her house in Illinois.

Vera was the first born of five children, being two years older than her only brother, ten years older than the twin girls, and fourteen years Nadia's senior. Such ages gaps felt strange growing up, but they also allowed her a lot of freedom. During tumultuous teen years, her parents were busy doting on the younger generation, meaning she had free reign. It was this lack of supervision that gave her the idea to channel her insatiable need for physical activity and challenge and put it towards the military.

At first, her parents were appalled, but they soon realized it was inevitable. Vera would end up a fighter no matter what path she chose. It was best she applied that strength towards the good of her country. She enrolled at the age of seventeen with parental consent and expressed a desire to join the Air Force. Pilot training was difficult, but Vera proved herself quite keen and adaptable, which were important traits that allowed her to get into the air far before her peers. Her first mission out had her seated in a prototype plane, as she was the only one who'd shown she had a good handle on it. While it ended in disaster, despite her best efforts, the higher-ups took notice of her. They recovered information from the plane's black box which spoke wonders of her achievements with the difficult craft. A mysterious man visited her in the hospital as she recovered from the loss of her arm after the crash left her unconscious beneath the plane. He expressed his condolences but offered an opportunity.

The outbreak was still a dream of paranoid science fiction writers, and yet several military generals had put their heads together alongside think tanks and devised a specialized weapon that would prove invaluable against the zombies. For lack of a better word, they were calling them Shells. They were large mechanical suits, to be driven like robots, and several pilots were being recruited to test them. Each candidate would receive an injection of Libirum, a new chemical substance that induces a state which makes the body compatible with the electrical connection with the Shell, and would be sent out to the front lines of several major combat zones to clear a path with their new weaponry.

This endeavor was a success, and the Shell pilots were called into more and more combat. Vera felt a rush with each dose of Libirum, and soon came to crave the substance. One of the experimental forms of the drug had hit the streets months ago, called Chain, and Vera became addicted. The drug keeps one in a combative state and enhances their reflexes, but comes at the cost of debilitating coma-like withdrawals. Dealing with this syndrome has been a part of her life for a few years now.

As for how she ended up in Luxembourg? Her family had saved up for a grand tour around Europe, hoping to bring the entire family with them. She agreed and managed to take leave, looking forward to a chance to see the world. While in Luxembourg, news of the outbreak spread as fast as the virus itself. They found themselves trapped among a sea of panicked individuals, unable to return home. Vera fought off the zombies when they finally arrived, doing her best among the waves of carnage, but got separated from the crux of her family when she noticed Nadia had gone missing. She sought out her sister and saved her life, at the expense of the older siblings and her own parents. Vera was forced to put an end to her afflicted family members with her own hands, and the sheer fury that welled up inside her made it almost enjoyable. This was what she trained for. This was what the anger inside of her was born for.

It wasn't long before major governments pooled their resources to design Shells of their own. Vera was known from the experimental runs, and was sought out as a pilot for the new batch.​

[BCOLOR=#800000]× W E A P O N ×[/BCOLOR]

Large robotic suit and standard issue guns.

[BCOLOR=#800000]× O T H E R ×[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=#800000]× R E L A T I O N S H I P S ×[/BCOLOR]​
 


╓────────────╖
Tristan━━
Koyanagi
╙────────────╜
22 years Emancipated Born March 3, 2142 Male


Origin
His father was half Japanese, but his mother was most certainly of some European region, and the entire family lived in Canada his entire life. Pretty neat set-up, eh?

Occupation
When he'd gotten there, Tristan had found that there was little he could do that others could not do better. He'd considered being a marksman for a bit, but despite having hunted for much of his life, Tristan was not that confident in his shot. However, he was a quick runner, who could run long distances well, so it was decided that he might as well become a scout, who searched for non-huntable or really growable food, as well as other supplies that a person might need, and that they might not have enough of. Though he’s found that he is quite good at running around to deliver messages when the people can’t be bothered to find their chosen recipient. Man, he’s trained to run around doing menial tasks his entire life.

Before the outbreak, he’d been going to the University of Toronto. He wasn’t too sure of what he wanted to do in the future. However, many of his classes would have pointed towards political science, which might have been an interesting enough things for him, if he’d had the chance to think about it.


Appearance
Standing at 5’11”, Tristan takes great pleasure in the fact that he can, occasionally, look down on others. His brother, who had great interest in researching random words in hopes of finding some use for them in the future, had a long list of words he liked to describe his older brother when he could. Lanky was one. Gawky was another. The one time that his brother called him scrawny, Tristan had put him in a headlock and refused to let go. Tristan does have a thin build, and he always seemed to have trouble building much muscle mass. But the descriptions were mainly just his younger brother being a dick. The fact of the matter is that he did have muscle. He had, after all, trained his entire life to do long distance running, which is quite a bit of physical activity for such a ‘scrawny’ person.

For the larger part of his life, Tristan had grown his hair out, the shaggy black mess often falling over his face. It was quite a wonder that he never blindly smashed into a zombie. Along with the oversized, ratty clothes he enjoyed, Tristan had a rather unkempt look, not that that really mattered when he was in the middle of an apocalypse. At Luxembourg, however, he decided that he may as well cut his hair somewhat shorter. It was kind of a bother to deal with it on windy days, anyway. His hair still falls in his eyes now, but it’s much more manageable.

However, unless he has a reason to dress nicely, he still greatly prefers his sweaters that are long enough to hide his hands, with fraying edges, and his dark baggy jeans that are losing colour all over. Looking like a formless blob is fun!


Personality
The smile on Tristan’s face is a near constant presence, even when he feels like he would much rather jump into a mob of zombies without a weapon than actually deal with life. For the most part, he smiles because he really can think of a reason to smile, however, and why not share your happiness with the expression on your face. The other part… Well, why not keep smiling while he’s at it. Apparently, smiling helps to decrease stress. If that’s true, then Tristan was the least stressed person on the planet.

Tristan is just the sort of person who’ll never dwell on things. Remembering past events? There were too many deaths, honestly, from family to friends to strangers that he’d ignored on his own search of escape. Honestly, if he looked at the past too often, he might just go insane. You’ll find instead that he’d often not mention any negative things that happened in the past, which is always helpful when you somehow manage to rile him up enough to have him fight you. Really, it’s just better that way. He is, and probably always will be, just someone who follows along with wherever the current takes him, and remembering problems which arise due to that just wouldn’t be fun at all.

That is one thing people seem to notice about him, in any case. Sometimes, Tristan can almost seem like he has no decision making skills of his own, as he’d just agree to whatever people say, and follow along as he’s told. Which isn’t true, of course. He follows everyone because it’s much easier to do so, and besides, he finds himself to be a poor decision maker. He probably get himself killed if he strayed from his preset path.

Not that he’s an idiot. He may have spent way too much time on athletics and let his grades slip when he was still in school, but hey, at least he was passing the few classes he paid attention in. Most of his thinking power goes towards figuring people out and memorizing the things they like and other information he’d probably never need. Hey, being a good friend is important, you know? You never know when you’re going to need someone’s help. He might not be so good with helping people when they’re in need, but he tries, and it’d be cool if they tried for him too, right?


Biography
Tristan was born in the busy city of Toronto, Canada. For five days a week, he’d go to school. He’d play sports with his friends (Basketball was a favourite among them, even though when he played, he’d always end up messing around, launching the ball across the court to his friend on the other end). He’d talk to people who weren’t exactly his friends, but didn’t hate him either. When he got home, he might play some video games with his younger brother, or, if the weather was nice, they might do something else. Road hockey, usually, though occasionally his brother’s friends would decide on a game of manhunt, in which case they’d chase each other around until they collapsed, lungs burning. Every day, he’d take some time to go for a run, usually coming home when the stars began to blink into existence in the sky. Every week, he’d go out with his running club. When the season came he would take some time off school go out to a forest or a lake or some other place to go hunting, which most of his family liked a lot. It was a fairly mundane existence, but a comfortable one. Tristan rarely had any problems to deal with, with an exception to the fact that his marks were average at best, as he always tended to pay more attention to the athletics side of school than the academic. He managed to make it through elementary well enough, in any case. He has no notable experiences in his childhood.

He used an athletic scholarship and OSAP to pay for university, which was alright. He had no idea what he planned to do, just taking classes that vaguely fit into his interests. Still, he paid very little attention to them, though game theory might have been one of the more interesting to him (which didn’t mean he wasn’t doing terribly). But, in the end, none of that mattered.

Before the outbreak, his family was taking a little vacation to Europe---his mother’s choice, as she was born in Scotland and found reason to reappear there again when her mother became ill, and neither Tristan nor his brother seemed particularly enthused to visit relatives they’d never met. The two very stubbornly stayed behind in the home that smelled a bit of mothballs, and as the rest of the family had left to go do whatever there was to do, the brothers were playing video games.

The rest of the family never reappeared. Tristan was there, in a strange land, with no one to help him but his twelve year old brother. He tried to keep a clear head for his sibling of course. He was lucky enough that they could find some weapons within the home. His brother got a cross peen hammer. Tristan went with a serrated kitchen knife and the rifle of his grandfather, which was well-kept despite the lack of hunting the old man did at his age.

The siblings travelled together for a while, but really, with two brothers who liked to fight often, one just barely an adult and the other not even a teen, things were bound to go wrong. Tristan was much faster than his brother was, and that was really the deciding factor.

They had been walking down a small street, that had looked deserted to them. Tristan walked in the front, his rifle hung on his back, knife in hand. It had been deadly silent. But, then he’d heard it. The shuffling of the zombie as it moved, the groans---he wasn’t sure where it was before. So he’d stopped, looked around nervously at the cars in front of him. It was no where there, however, but hidden in the hedges beside him. When he saw it, finally, some creature far too close for comfort, his first instinct, unfortunately, had not been to kill it. He’d always been far more comfortable killing things from a distance. Instead, he’d stumbled back a few steps, and then turned back to run.

He should have grabbed his brother. Should have pulled him along. Even if he’d injured him in doing so, that couldn’t possibly have been worse than expecting his brother to keep pace with him. His brother, who was much younger than him, who’d given up on the long distance running Tristan adored the moment he was given a choice, had neither the endurance nor speed to keep up with Tristan and evade the zombie Tristan had---stupidly---left to live. And Tristan had run, until he heard the pained cry of his brother. He turned, just in time to watch as the zombie tore the flesh from his shoulder.

He didn’t let his brother get eaten alive, of course. He could never do that. He’d wasted a few precious moments, fumbling for the rifle. How clumsy you get, when you’re terrified. He eventually opted instead to run back, close that short distance that had saved Tristan from being bit. He’d taken his knife, and put it through the zombie’s head as it was preoccupied with his brother. So there lay his brother, screaming and bleeding. Tristan knelt down with him. He’d taken his old jacket, and tried to use it to staunch the blood, somehow. He’d whispered---lied---to his brother, telling him that it would all be okay. But that wasn’t true. He would soon have become one of those things as well, and between clenched teeth and laboured breaths, his brother had told him so. Tristan really couldn’t bear the thought of it. He did care about his brother, after all. So, while his brother stared up at him, Tristan took the rifle, and shot him in the head. And his brother had died, quickly. Tristan could move on. He wasn’t sure that was the right decision. Maybe it would have been better for him to just run away, and let his brother live out the rest of his unnatural life as an ugly, rotting creature. Maybe he should have just run, which he was quite good at doing. But he didn’t, and it was too late to fix it. This wasn’t a game.

He ran after that. Tristan ran a lot. He ran until his lungs burned and he felt like he’d die, because if he stopped then he really would die. If he stopped, and focused on something besides his breathing, then he might think back to how he really wasn’t able to help anyone in his family at all, and he’d never be able to play video games with his brother, that always led to fake fights when one won and the other accused them of cheating, and his mother wouldn’t be yelling at them to be quiet, the sense of irony lost on her, and his father wouldn’t be sitting in the chair in the corner, clearly lost in his own world as he did work in what looked like the most uncomfortable sitting position ever. He couldn’t help them, and he found that he always turned away when he saw a person screaming for help, because he couldn’t help, because he was quite helpless and quite selfish, and maybe he should give up and die but he was too much of a coward to face his own mortality.

He was found, eventually. They offered a place for him to stay, where he’d be safe, and he’d be able to fall back into the preset path that was his life. It sounded like a good deal, so he went with them.

Unfortunately, life just seems to have it out for him. Tristan found himself pulled into the rebel’s group, which he went along with because he quite quickly realized that Leven was not as good a place as he’d been led to believe. His time in Leven was short lived, and he soon found himself on the road again, but this time with the group of those he’d met in the old safe haven. They travelled until they found Luxembourg. He has to say, he quite enjoys this place. He’d be sad if it got overrun.


Weapon
Tristan has a tendency to make odd choices in weaponry. In Leven, it had been a shovel. He did soon switch that out for a much more conventional rifle, that he’d lovingly polished and took a great deal of care of. But in London, he’d ‘conveniently found’ a nice titanium crowbar, that seemed quite new. It’s really not that great of a weapon. If he hits something that’s too hard the vibrations will kill his arms. But he tried his best to fix that, and make it easier to hold, by making a good paracord wrap. It looks great, too. His rifle is usually left at home, where his room is supposed to be.

Relationships
Cédric Dahl - Ahhhh, Ceddie. He's one of Tristan's roommates, and he's a pretty nice guy. It's hard to communicate with him because of the language barrier, but that's alright. Also, he has a horse! How awesome is that?
Saorise Kaufmann - Are you sure that she’s younger than he is? She’s a much better leader, capable to making decisions he never could.
Ronan Kearney - They… didn’t talk much. She and Rio were adorable like a basket of puppies.
Dallis Sterling - Cool girl, nice accent, great nicknames, though a different set of morales than him.
Rómulo Seung - He has a nice face, and Tristan derives enjoyment from seeing him get angry.
Nicolas Rio - His sarcasm is glorious, really.
Preston Wiles - He doesn’t look like someone you could trust, but he really is, in Tristan’s opinion. He disappeared. Maybe he’s dead. Oh well.


Extras
× He still goes out to run as often as possible. He wants to be in shape, you know? It’s important for him to do so.
× He cleans his rifle way too much for someone who never uses it. He used to love hunting, so he used rifles a lot. But you know, he’s in a safe place, and shooting zombies isn’t very fun anyway.
× He likes card games just because even though he always smiles when he has a good hand, no one ever seems to realize that he has a good hand. Weird how that works, eh?
× Expect him to sing music over a century old, in a voice that doesn’t quite reach all the high notes and is so loud that you might start to fear that the zombies will come for the sole purpose of making him shut up. Why? Because it makes him happy and that’s what matters.
× It is immensely difficult to make him truly angry, to the point that it’s almost stupid. You can insult him and punch him and threaten to burn everyone he loves alive, but it’s hard to actually make him yell back or try to punch you. If he thinks you deserve it, though, he do something like put dirt and worms and other insects in your bed, maybe a zombie hand if he can find one. When confronted, he’s just smile in that really blank, idiotic way he could and play dumb. Why? Well, because he is fairly certain he’d lose a real fight, and he’s never really that willing to get hurt for the sake of protecting his pride.
 
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REMY SCHNEIDER-SCHMIT
19 || Male || French Luxembourger

fwkoM_Vlpog.jpg


Short || 160 cm || Average || Brown Eyes || Brown Hair || Easily Bruised || Paints Nails || Enjoys Simple Clothing

OCCUPATION:
He's training to be a nurse; mostly to treat his own injuries and save some money, but also because he's a big softy intent on helping everyone he can. He acts as a postman on the side, because extra money is always needed.

BOTTLE-CAPS:
He's a bit of a collector when it comes to small trinkets, more specifically bottle-caps. They give him something to do when he needs a distraction.

PERSONALITY:
Remy could certainly be considered 'too polite'. His courteous behavior has led to him spewing countless apologies on various occasions. Now, just about everyone loves a gentleman, but someone constantly saying things like 'My bad!' and 'Sorry!' can get annoying fast. Seeing as he'd only apologize once more if someone were to point out his habit, people have gradually learned to keep their time with him short. As a result, Remy has become socially reclusive. It's a shame, seeing as he's such a altruistic young man, but it appears people value their sanity a little bit more than they value manners.

Not only is he incredibly loyal, but Remy is incredibly gullible. His trusting nature has ended in him being deceived, and often bruised, more than once. Thanks to his cowardly nature, he never mentions these less than pleasant encounters, and just hopes he'll be left alone. And yet he still doesn't learn his lesson. Nurturing and sympathetic as always, the brunette continues to be scammed...like the other day, for example, when he decided to let a ragged teenager stay in his house, just to wake up missing food and other knick-knacks. Though generosity itself is a wonderful trait to possess, it may one day get him killed. His nurturing essence has led to him being incredibly fond of children, though unfortunately he rarely encounters them.

Though an actual relationship is in the distant future, the short male can't help but be in love with the idea of love. Makes him forget he's living during the middle of an apocalypse.

BIOGRAPHY:
For ten years, Remy was an only child. Then, his parents decided they missed having a baby to coddle. If they continued treating their current son like he was still in diapers, he'd end up a spoiled brat. Though, he'd always been much too polite. So 9 months and one birthday later, his little brother was born. The young mans love of children likely stems from how affectionate he was toward awards his baby brother. Remy absolutely adored taking care of the baby, whom his parents had named Beau. The child certainly lived up to his name, never failing to make his family smile, even when he was being a troublesome child.

By the time he was five years old, Beau had already managed to build a close bond with his older brother, despite the age gap. Remy always had time for the kid, and never turned him away. Whenever the weather allowed it, the two would head outside and play football; with Remy constantly allowing Beau to win. If Beau ever requested the others attention he would get it. No matter how busy he would be, Remy always managed to find time to play. Unfortunately, the happy days could not last, as the outbreak soon affected Luxembourg.

He remembers the day perfectly. The entire family had gone to a local store, and as his parents shopped for necessities, Remy stood in the toy aisle with his brother. Beau had been particularly interested in a little stuffed bear, and his older brother soon offered to pay for the toy using his growing allowance. As they walked towards the front of building, Remy carrying the younger one on his back and Beau clutching the stuffed bear, a piercing scream rang through the store. Upon seeing a man sinking his teeth into a woman's flesh, he had frozen. Before blood started to spill and he immediately pulled his brother into his arms and covered his eyes. Naturally, a very...grotesque looking man cannibalizing another person on the floor caught the attention of many, and people panicked. Shoppers fled the store and, to their unfortunate surprise, right into a wall of walking corpses. Despite wanting to find his parents, Remy was much more concerned with the task of getting himself and his brother to safety.

Hopping the horrible things would either be too engrossed with their meals or too stupid to climb, Remy immediately headed for the ladder leading to the roof upon escaping through the back door. Breathing heavily and almost relieved, despite the ongoing carnage, Remy looked down to give his brother a reassuring smile, only to find the child grasping at a large bite mark decorating his arm. With no idea what to do, Remy began rocking the child, whispering a story in his ear and urging him to sleep. Minutes later, the younger boy had fallen asleep. Not wanting the kid to wake up alone before turning or to get eaten by a rotting corpse, Remy found himself wrapping his hands around Beau's neck, and squeezing until the boys heart stopped and Remy's hands were burning. Afterward he slammed the boys skull against the ground until he was almost certain the brain was too damaged for any potential undead transformations. The scene before his eyes looked like something out of a horror movie, but accompanied by the awful smell of blood. Once the remaining zombies finished massacring the store visitors and cleared out, Remy grabbed the boy and his bear, as well as a shovel from the store, and buried the child and his toy in a nearby forest.

Covered in the blood of his little brother and gripping a shovel, Remy set off for safety. Nothing quite so eventful has happened since, and that's a fact he's more than ok with.

WEAPON:
Poor kid wouldn't even know how to hold a weapon, let alone cause someone harm. The only sharp object he can properly wield is a box cutter. Oh, and he has a little dart-gun made out of a syringe, but he typically forgets it so its somewhat useless. Seeing as he's a nurse in training, he often has a med-kit on his person, but that does the opposite of causing damage.

RELATIONSHIPS:
Dallis Sterling would probably punch him in the face.

L'espoir fait vivre.

They couldn't think of something to say the day you burst.

 
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IC will most likely go up today cause all your activity and prompt CS writing is giving me hype.

o_o)b


Edit:
oops I lied D:
It'll go up after I wake up. Night!
 
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Accepted Characters are in the Character tab. If I've missed any let me know. I'll give another sweep just before IC goes up and make any last minute edits/changes on my side before it does. Still planning this out so it might take a while.
 
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Do you still have room for another joiner or two? May be interested.
 
Totally! You're definitely welcomed to join.
 
Still have a shortage on females?
 
slight shortage yup. But if you really want to make a guy, it should be ok too.
 
I might make one then as well. If that's alright.
 



secretly-wishing-for-rain.regular.png

"You can call me Annie, I guess, do what you want."


[BCOLOR=#474747] Age[/BCOLOR]
16

[BCOLOR=#474747] Gender[/BCOLOR]
Female

[BCOLOR=#474747] Origin[/BCOLOR]
French and Polish
"Je peux parler français, but I know nothing Polish, my friend."


[BCOLOR=#474747] Occupation[/BCOLOR]
Rowdy student
"I cannot do anything but cause trouble."


tumblr_n69bzzbJ5h1tcyz5qo1_500.png

[BCOLOR=#474747] Appearance[/BCOLOR]
Antoinette has messy greyish blue hair and round grey eyes. She stands at a tall 5'9", and is quite toned. She is constantly bruised, scratched, wounded, and while many of her wounds are open, she is covered in bandages. Her fists are always thickly bandaged. She most often wears her old school uniforms or some modest dresses her foster parent make her wear (which usually end up dirty and ruined by the end of the day) and white tennis shoes. Her neutral expression usually looks determine, or angry, and she often relaxes in closed off stances, her arms crossed. She carries a large canvas backpack at all times, and when she's sleeping, she uses it as a pillow.
"I don't think I'm pretty, I just think I'm bloody, haha."


[BCOLOR=#474747] Personality[/BCOLOR]
Antoinette really isn't as mean as she first comes off to be. She's just a restless girl. She says she's paranoid but she really enjoys fighting, and hopes that every single person that comes towards her is an enemy. She doesn't help her own case by being a social person though, not that she goes out of her way to have a conversation, but she'll easily carry one on, without even thinking about it. Antoinette will pretend she's a rowdy towdy girl, too hardened by her past to have any optimism left in her, but just the opposite is true. She's a dreamer, and though she doesn't have shame for much, she'll get embarrassed if you catch her in the act. She'll eagerly help people as well, not really for the good feeling, but she hates being bored, and will beg for anything to do. Something, anything, just don't leave her bored and sitting, please.
"Look, if you're going to leave me here, something's going to get trashed."


[BCOLOR=#474747] Biography[/BCOLOR]
Antoinette was born and raised in France, not too far from Luxembourg. She grew up with her father, two older brothers, and an older sister, who couldn't be more different from each other. Antoinette was, obviously, the most troublesome of the four. She stayed in school and tried not to cause too much trouble (her impulsivities often got the best of her), and did her part in her family. They didn't do too bad. Her three siblings worked, along with her father, and she did majority of the household chores. It all worked quite nicely, and none of them hated each other's company. Now, her mother wasn't dead, nor was her mother out of the picture, but she was quite...unstable. She had been doing a lot of time in an isolated hospital in Poland, and had gotten herself a small apartment when she was considered healthy enough to leave. Antoinette had left her family to visit her mother for a month during a break, to make sure she would have a smooth transition. Yet during this time, the break out occurred. Her mother and Antoinette were rushing to get back to France, back with the rest of Antoinette's family, but her mother was attacked before they could get to the plane. She was forced to leave her mother. Since she was considered a minor, policemen made her go straight to Luxembourg. She now stays in a foster home, and hasn't heard any word from her family.
"They don't have to contact me or anything, c'est bien, I'm not bitter."


[BCOLOR=#1f1f1f] Weapon[/BCOLOR]
Her fists, her trusty metal baseball bat, and usually any other scrap wood/metal she can get her hands on.
"I'll use anything to bash your face in, enfoiré"


[BCOLOR=#1f1e1e] Relationships:[/BCOLOR]
Remy Schneider-Schmit - A very good, gentle friend. Antoinette isn't the cause for all his bruises

[BCOLOR=#1f1f1f] Character Summary[/BCOLOR]
She is a nice girl, she just doesn't come off that way. She's a restless, hyper person who really enjoys fighting, so she kind of hopes for people to antagonize her so she can fight them. Most of her open wounds are from fights, or reckless activities she does (ex: attempting parkour).
 
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Grrrr links across threads aren't working very well. Sorry if you can't get to a character sheet from the IC, or to the summary post (which doesn't matter at the moment) from this thread.

Hopefully I figure out what gives, but for now I'm going to leave it alone. :/
 
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age ; 27 gender ; male origin ; russian
▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃ ▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃ ▃▃▃▃



Occupation: Police officer who patrols and deals with street vagrants. Strong physical capability in man handling and acting via forcefully. He has been written for a variety of misdemeanors that have landed him in trouble. But because of the current situation at hand, it's difficult for the government to turn him away when they're in need of more brute strength. In fact, he's happier than ever to be working as a police officer. Now days, there's more leniency when it comes to being violent - there's less trust and just more crime. In a mad man's world, Vitali is thriving on adrenaline.

Appearance: He's a gigantic six foot one Russian man with a slight accent when he speaks. Pretty nicely sculpted features that almost seem Nordic (probably has some sort of Norwegian or Swedish ancestry in his blood). Fair complexion that is often covered in some type of mark. Sometimes it's blood, other times it's scratches. Though most of these wounds aren't permanent, he doesn't forget them. Even when he heals back up, he can see the slight discoloring within some parts of his injuries. Though the most significant memories are the scars that line his leg from an early incident in his career.

Personality: If one was able to describe the most ego inflated try hard villain in a novel, it would be Vitali. Ironically his very name means life and yet he wreaks death upon all that he encounters - or at least he tries to. With a tongue as sharp as a blade, he cuts people with sarcastic remarks and snide comments. In his mind, he is the best and no one else can beat that. Pride is his biggest sin and yet he wears it proudly as if it was a virtue to boast about. He crowns himself with narcissism, knowing that his good looks and subtle smirks can weasel itself into people's hearts. Asshole is certainly an understatement. Upon other beautiful traits that Vitali has been endowed with, one involves incredible endurance. Stubbornly cocky, his own self esteem sky rockets by his libido and he has no shame in flaunting his so called 'flirting skills,' (which in reality is just him being a douche.) But regardless, he's a man who denies his own weaknesses and will most likely die thinking that he was invincible or at least almost was. In his delusional mind, he is a young god who is unstoppable and un-defeatable. No is not an answer, merely a nuisance.

Biography: Vitali grew up as a very troubled child despite the prestigious occupations of his father and mother. Raised in the great ol' land of america, he went against the grain of his parent's legacy. Mother who was a professor at a college and father who was a surgeon, they had expected to bring forth a son that was just as prodigious as they were. But to their horror, they received the very opposite. Vitali who was meant to prosper with life lived with spunk and demanding authority. At the age of four his mother had to constantly discipline him. Sternly she'd wag a finger in front of his face stating, "it's not ok to punch people in the face Vitali, do you understand?"

Of course his troublesome behavior was seen as a phase that all thought he'd outgrow. But that too was an unrealistic expectation. If anything, he got worse. The boy started his own group of so called allies (not even friends) and they'd get into all sorts of trouble. Mischievous grins, they'd vandalize bathrooms with their poop and piss, throw crayons on the wall and write backwards. But all these ideas were stirred by Vitali. At this point, his parents were receiving daily notifications about the latest trouble their darling son got into.

Sick and tired of all this trouble, they finally decided to ship him off into boarding school boot camp where everything was suppose to be a nightmare. But ironically, yet again, he proved to be thicker than iron. He created a tyrannical legacy at the school and manipulated it to his liking. But his parents were never aware of this. Instead, they saw an angel in their son who was graduating school with honorary marks and a handsomely chiseled face.

Soon he was going to be a legal adult and he found that he needed a purpose in life. And so he ended up joining the military. Again his tendencies proved to be insubordinate as he was dismissed in a couple of months. But an influential lieutenant found promise in Vitali and used his connections to pull some strings for him. Soon enough he was working to be a police officer and the rest is history.

Weapon: A neon light stick (appears to be a light saber) that can be smacked from the distance. It's shaped like a pole and can be adjusted to be shorter or longer. Has a tendency of wearing these electric tazing gloves that is for close up combat but if he needs to hit at a distance, he just whips out his trusty stick and it'll turn it into a long tazing pole. He has handcuffs cuffed at the side of his pants but it's more or less for decoration or sexual escapades more than anything else.

Relationships:

Nicholas Rio- BROTP
 
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Name:
Andrew Jackson

Age:
20s - 30s

Gender:
Male

Origin:
Raised in Germany, but not place of birth. His ethnicity is unknown, but he speaks fluent English among other languages. Doesn't possess an accent which hints at a country that predominantly speaks English.

Occupation:
Luxembourg Defense Corps - Aegis PMC

Appearance:
xOLtdrQ.jpg

Hardly shows his face, but from under the mask his muffed voice sounds middle aged. Of average height, but sports a muscular build in order to carry his equipment efficiently.
Personality:
If Andrew were to be summed up with as few words as possible one word would jump out to most who encounter him. That word would be "Asshole.", both due to profession and personality. Cynical, apathetic, and self-centered, he has no qualms about harming others either physically or mentally regardless of whether it's required of him or not. While he doesn't acquire pleasure from these acts they serve him well in deterring trouble and nuisances.

However, he isn't always such an ass. These traits just tend to manifest when he's on an operation or confronted with people he dislikes which tend to be many and far reaching. When not telling people to piss off who don't get the hint to leave him alone he's fairly silent and focused on the surroundings at hand. When not dealing with incompetent people you will hardly hear a complaint or insult from his lips.

On the contrary, Andrew seems to have many redeeming qualities if anyone is able to get to know him enough. He's loyal to his employers and will always finish a job unless they're killed or he faces absolute death. Not accepting of bribes unless the situation demands it he will not change handlers for any amount. Wholesome in lifestyle he avoids bad habits that cloud his judgement or could possibly put him in an unsavory position. Honest to all those he meets and bluntly so he won't hold anything back unless necessary.

Additionally, there's one trait that most end up missing and rightfully so as most if not all fail to understand his inner workings. The fact of the matter is, Andrew is a bit mad. Openly offering to kill people to end their suffering, while he appears to be mocking or threatening them he's 100% serious. Most just don't have the gall to accept and if and when they do Andrew confirms their decision by asking a second time before promptly putting a bullet through their cranium.

A more visible sign of his madness is the doctor mask he wears constantly. Believing it wards off the plague and the undead alike as well as brings him luck, he doesn't like for people to touch or try to remove it. Threatening on more than one occasion to break offenders fingers he's easily mangled dozens of hands due to people who pressed their luck too far.

Biography:
Not much is known about Andrew's past beyond what he tells a select few and what can be found through records. From the latter, it's known he began attending school in Germany at the age of 13. Achieving high marks he graduated among the top of his class before moving to France for reasons unknown. Soon joining the French Special Forces Brigade he served for an unspecified amount of time. On occasions he would frequently visiting the US as evident by his passport. After becoming an official French citizen Andrew soon moved from France and settled within the United Kingdom. Leaving the military it's unknown what he did within the UK as there's no record of him apart from arriving at the airport, but a few years prior to the outbreak he was hired by the UK PMC Aegis.

Existing since the 21st century it had changed hands hundreds of times as well as disbanded and re-founded a few dozen. While far from it's origin days it served a similar purpose to that time. Working in the interest of the Luxenbourg safe zone, the UK PMC had provided its services to the remaining governments of Germany, France, and Belgium. Of course, for a price, but that was negligible when survival was a priority as Andrew knew. Working side jobs as an escort when he could find time he manages to make more on top of what he's paid by Aegis. The few to confront him on his actions he ignores or claims his actions are in favor of the safe zone's interests.

Weapon:
M4 Assualt Rifle w/ Red dot sight
10 magazines (9 backup)
1 Flash bang Grenade

Equipment:
Thermal Vision/Night Vision Goggles
Tactical Radio
Military Ear Protectors
Neck Microphone
PDA
Medic Kit
Flashlight
Combat Carrier w/ Plate (Light chest protection)

Relationships:
Antoinette Delafosse - tbd
Cédric Zachariah Dahl - tbd
Dallis Sterling - tbd
Mihail "Indigo" Pavelovich - tbd
Nadia Fairchild - tbd
Remy Schneider Schmit - tbd
Rómulo Seung - tbd
Ronan Kearney - tbd
Saorise Kaufmann - tbd
Tristan Koyanagi - tbd
Vera Fairchild - tbd
 
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Welcome aboard @Astros

FYI, can't see the picture, though I figure it's probably one of the plague masks. Nice crazy ass character!
 
Welcome aboard @Astros

FYI, can't see the picture, though I figure it's probably one of the plague masks. Nice crazy ass character!
*Sigh* I always neglect to change hosting sites when doing these, but yes it's a plague doctor mask. Glad to hear you enjoy it so far.
 
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