Mobley Eats

Consume. Smother your doubts. Be fulfilled.
Original poster
DONATING MEMBER
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Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Private Convo Roleplays
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A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Female, No Preferences
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
A bit of both, lean more towards passive.
Favorite Genres
Modern, Romance, Fantasy, Scifi, Drama, Action.
Genre You DON'T Like
Horror, Mystery (I like them, just not good at it)
Year: 2813

Location: Hagur-343 | Boiler Chamber

Time: 3:40 PM | Free Period


“Time’s rolling around damn quick, ain’t it? Twenty four hours and we’ll be scraping dog shit from the walls.” An adjustment to the brim of his cap, square jaw shifting in tandem with the gum rolling between his teeth. It was damn hot. Always damn hot. He couldn’t stand patrolling the Boiler Chamber.

“Dog shit. Dog blood and guts. The whole shabang,” another guard chuckled, albeit weakly. His gaze landed on any space his shift partner didn’t occupy. “You placing bets this year too? Last year kinda had you fucked…”

“Yeah, fucked right in the ass and everything. But lemme enlighten you, Dill.” The man was practically soaking through his clothes. His hairline swallowed up sweat like no tomorrow and a heated pink filled his round face. Regardless, he ignored the discomfort and continued gruffly, “Boys been talking around here. A dog snuck poison in last year, a whole damn Blazer the year before that. But this year? This shit’s going straight to Hell, for all the tributes.”

Dill squirmed a bit, also sweating by the gallon. “Man, come on Hank.” Dill’s face didn’t know whether it wanted to twist with amusement or nervousness. “You don’t believe any of the shit these guys pass around. Shouldn’t, anyway. They’re just bored like the rest of us. Like to hype us up and waste our money on the losers. Ain’t nothing coming in this year. Cargos should be on lock and everything.”

“Heh, that’s why you’re gonna get fucked in the ass this year,” Hank said. With a grunt, he abandoned his post next to Dill and moved over to the south end of the chamber, plopping down onto the nearest bench. He yanked off his cap, fanning himself. “What’s really got me fucked is the heat in this fucking place, Goddamn!”

Dill was quick to join his grumpy workmate, heaving a sigh of relief for his throbbing feet. “It’s the damn boiler.” He knocked his head at the aforementioned contraption. It was a massive monster of molten metallics and highly pressurized steam. It took over nearly half of the floor’s space, a jungle of pipes running through the area and weaving overhead. Despite Hagur-343’s highly advanced structure, there were a few low grade appliances slipped in for the sake of saving money.

Dill squinted at the infernal thing. “Waste of damn space, if you ask me. All it does is eat away at oxygen and make your musky ass smell even muskier.”

Hank flipped him off.

“I think that thing’s gonna conk on us though,” Dill said, lips pinched. Right on time, a series of clangs and rattling shook the boiler, nearly shaking the ground beneath their feet. Usually, the horrid sound died after a few moments, but it stretched on longer than either of them had ever heard before.

“Uh...is that supposed to happen?” Hank asked, already rising from the bench.

“H-Hell if I know. Do I look like an engineer to you?”

Suddenly, the rattles morphed into a high-pitched whistle. Followed by two more. Another. And then another.

A loud groaning noise.

Dill and Hank paled as they watched the boiler slowly expand like a balloon, barely holding itself together. Not good.

“Not today!”

Before Dill could blink, Hank was already sprinting upstairs and leaving him behind. “Wha--don’t leave me here you asshole!” He scrambled up quickly, nearly tripping over his own feet when--

Pshhhhh!

Pipes started bursting open, thick and broiling hot steam filling the chamber. The two guards slammed the door shut behind them, breathing heavily. When they looked at each other, the sinking realization dawned them in unison. At the rate that was leaking, the pressure would go shooting up the pipes and straight to the chamber up above.

The courtyard.





Location: Hagur-343 | Courtyard

Time: 3:48 PM | Free Period


There was the usual ambiance of overlapping voices and sour grumbling of prisoners, feet trampling back and forth and harking laughs vibrating in throats abused by decades of nicotine and life.

And then it happened, though no one could explain it.

A skirmish emitted through the door leading out of the courtyard, drawing the attention of court marshals. They jogged outside of the chamber with an urgency in their step, a few briefly stopping to order the prisoners to remain where they were.

“It exploded!”

“What? Just now?”

“Where’s the mechanic?”

"Don't breathe it in!"

“Move the dogs out!”

Words crashed and blended into one another, all meaning behind them lost on any ears that heard them, but the frenzied tinge to their tone wasn’t missed. An acrid stench and smoke started seeping through the air vents. Dizziness overcame a handful of guards at the exit as they fell to their knees, nearing the brink of unconsciousness. A smothering heat inundated the atmosphere.

“Everyone! Get...get out! Now!” Another guard struggled to remain on his feet, waving frantically at the exit while trying to drag limp bodies to safety.


Tag: Elle Joyner Elle Joyner , CloudyBlueDay CloudyBlueDay , KatSea KatSea
 
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Mobley Eats

Consume. Smother your doubts. Be fulfilled.
Original poster
DONATING MEMBER
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Female, No Preferences
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
A bit of both, lean more towards passive.
Favorite Genres
Modern, Romance, Fantasy, Scifi, Drama, Action.
Genre You DON'T Like
Horror, Mystery (I like them, just not good at it)

Amit Yedidya | Location: Courtyard | Interactions: Unconscious Guard

Amit didn't have any plans in peculiar for Free Period today. The most he ever did was think and that was how he wished to spend his freedom at the moment. Thinking. Thinking, thinking, thinking, and wondering and thinking again, tossed about in a perpetual loop and staring off into gods knew what. He only ever broke away from his thoughts with the stray shoulder check and shove, all intentional motions, surely. His reason for being incarcerated wasn't exactly a secret and a majority of the prisoners here were U.S. citizens.

How many of your friends and family and children did I kill, hm? he wondered, gaze studying a far off prisoner losing yet another round of cards with some female inmate. Amit's fingers squeezed and fidgeted tightly around one another, the tips pulsating a tan pink. Tomorrow. Just wait until tomorrow. His teeth sunk into his bottom lip, gnawing insistently. The skin was already cracked and bleeding from recent abuse. Who else will I kill then? Directly, even. By my own hands... The hand squeezing stilled, hesitance seizing him a moment...Would he be able to go through it? Well, such a question was a waste of energy to ponder over.

He had to be willing to take a life on his own. He'd be a disgrace to his brethren otherwise.

At first, Amit didn't hear the commotion rising until a scrambling prisoner knocked him over. His balance gave way and he slipped from the bench to the floor. Regardless, he brushed it off and stood once more, watching guards and inmates alike run about like headless chickens. It almost made an amused grin pull at his lips, only for it to pinch as an off scent entered his nostrils.

Oh...He knew that smell. Not good. "Shit," he growled, covering his mouth and nose. Breathing this in would equate to certain death and that was not how he was trained to die. Rolling his eyes, he started squeezing his way through the bustling sea of panic and flailing limbs, nearly tripping over unconscious bodies. They were none of his concern. For all he cared, less prisoners meant less opposition in the Dog Fights--

"H-help..." A hand wrapped around his ankle.

With a muffled curse, Amit yanked his leg free, caught off guard by the touch. However, he wasn't surprised to see a guard sprawled on her side, reaching out for him with a slither of awareness left in her eyes. Well now...this was a situation. He could very well leave her there to die. What good would it do him to drag her out with him? The extra weight would slow him down, thus putting both of them in danger...

Logic won out.

Amit ignored her pleas and set ahead again.

...

...

...

"Fuck." Thoroughly annoyed, he came back to loop the now-unconscious guard's arm around his shoulders before circling an arm under her legs. Gritting his teeth, he hefted her up bridal style, stumbled a bit, nearly dropping her, but then reaffirmed his footing. "You owe me, heavy bitch," he grumbled. For fuck's sake--his back ached already and the heat eating away at oxygen didn't help in the slightest. No matter. If they got out of this alive, he would definitely use this as leverage against her and have her smuggle something in through cargo.
 
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Mobley Eats

Consume. Smother your doubts. Be fulfilled.
Original poster
DONATING MEMBER
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Female, No Preferences
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
A bit of both, lean more towards passive.
Favorite Genres
Modern, Romance, Fantasy, Scifi, Drama, Action.
Genre You DON'T Like
Horror, Mystery (I like them, just not good at it)

Farhanah "Hana" Kesse | Location: Courtyard | Interactions: River CloudyBlueDay CloudyBlueDay

Hana sensed something was wrong as soon as the Courtyard's energy shifted. In the calm pool of unstable minds and hardened marshals balancing one another in begrudging harmony, she had caught whiff of a change. It all started with the introduction of murmurs, seeping through the door and carrying into her ears faintly. At first, it was of no significance to her. Likely guard gossip, she had thought. It wasn't unheard of. In fact, it'd be odd if the guards didn't gossip and gripe about the "dogs".

Dogs--what a wonderful title. An easily domesticated animal; if only Hagur-343 had picked something less...obedient.

But, she digressed. All that mattered right now was the sudden shouting and mad dashes for the exit. The panic made it hard to discern the marshals' commands at first however, once she did, she could've sworn her heart plummeted through the floor.

"Don't breathe it in1"

"Fire! In the Boiler Cham--"

"Move! Move!"

"...River," Hana breathed, her chest pounding. In an instant, she was on her feet and running in the opposite direction of the exit, pushing through the sea of bodies as her eyes frantically veered left and right. There was no way in Hell she was leaving without her kids. "River?" she called out, "River! Where you are, child?!" The awkwardness in her speech spiked in tandem with the fluttering anxiety, though she did her best to keep it in check. Nervousness would just worsen the faint fuzziness of her thoughts, the smoke gradually seeping into her system.

Just as tears stung at her eyes from irritation, she blinked through the haze and spotted River's form. Oh, thank Sky Father! she thought as she reached the boy, hand landing on his shoulder. "River! Come! Do not breathe in too much," she rushed out, tugging him insistently while covering her nose with her sleeve.
 
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CloudyBlueDay

consistently inconsistent
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Chat Roleplays, Not Taking RP Invites at this Time, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week
My Usual Online Time
I check as often as I can.
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced, Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, No Preferences
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Both.
Favorite Genres
Fantasy, Realistic/Modern, Magic, Scifi, Romance
Genre You DON'T Like
I am generally not a huge fan of RPing Fandom, but it can depend.
river ramirez

Amidst all the chaos, as always, River was frozen.

He was especially spacey today, unable to focus, unable to see clearly. Time in Hagur-343 had passed River like a blur, and he was still barely struggling to comprehend what had happened. In an instant he’d been ripped from all he’d ever known, all he’d ever held dear.. and suddenly, here he was, launched into space, never to return again.

The state of the courtyard had jumped from zero to one hundred in a moment. He’d been hiding in the corner, best he could, keeping quiet as he always did. It was better to stay neutral, stay hidden, stay out of trouble… but there was kindness in this place, more kindness than he had ever planned for. Hana, Chloe, Chiko, Luca.. he’d been here two weeks, and he could tell they weren’t bad people. They’d done bad things… but they weren’t bad people. And frankly, they were the only thing that brought him comfort here. So far away from home… So far away from earth...

Back to reality. The reality of the horrid stench filling the air, the reality of people falling, unconscious, and all the rest running, trampling over them. He was frozen, stuck in place like he always was, breath caught in his throat as people pushed past him. Just like he had been when the police came, found him standing above...

Suddenly, finally, River found the urge to move, forcing himself to put one foot in front of the other and try and get away from whatever smoke was polluting the air. He thought he heard someone shouting his name before another, in their pursuit of a hasty escape, shoved him so roughly River found himself on the floor. Coughing as he tried to pull himself back up, the smoke stinging his eyes and throat, he realized there was a hand on his shoulder. Fear climbed up his spine before he realized who it was.

“Hana,” He whispered, relieved, and allowed her to yank him up and start tugging him away. Following her example, he pushed his sleeve up and over his nose, coughing again. “What’s happening?”

Mobley Eats Mobley Eats
 

Elle Joyner

I guess...
Roleplay Invitations
Not Taking RP Invites at this Time
Posting Speed
Several Posts a Day
My Usual Online Time
8:00 AM - 4:00 PM
Writing Levels
Prestige
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Primarily Prefer Female
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Probably a mix. When I GM I tend to prefer mostly aggressive, but with input from my players. I like to offer ideas and receive them. I don't like when people just take the reins and run with it though...especially in a 1x1.
Favorite Genres
Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
Genre You DON'T Like
Anime. Ever. Just not my jam.

Smut. Romance as a main plot. Horror. Grimdark.
________PANDORA_________________________________________________
Collab with CloudyBlueDay CloudyBlueDay

“Damnit, Pan.” Abe hissed, slapping down his hand of cards. His leg bounced uncontrollably under the table, hand running through his hair. Unslicked. He hated it when it was unslicked. Pandora was kicking his ass at cards again, and everytime, he said he would finally beat her. And everytime, he lost. “I’ll fold. Again. You’re cheatin’, somehow. I know it.”

Grinning, Pandora sank back a little, her own cards still fanned in front of her, “Pretty boy, I don’t need to cheat. You wear your cards on that gorgeous face of yours. Damn shame it’s not strip poker, cause I’d be a happy lady.” She reached to lay her cards down, when the doors burst inward and sitting up sharply, her eyes shifted from the table to the guards, pouring in, “Hm. Someone did something naught--”

But before she could finish, the frantic energy of the guards seemed to ignite, quite literally, and smoke began to pour from the ground, the twisted fog reeking of noxious fumes. Rising, Pan put her hands up to block her mouth and nose, “We’re gonna have to continue this another time, Sugar… Looks like recess is over.”

Sitting up straight, Abe glanced around at the chaos forming around them. “Bloody hell…” He hissed, jolting upright, fingers drumming against his thigh, cards forgotten. Abraham raised the crook of his arm to his face, protecting himself from the putrid smell. “Somebody blew the pipes, looks like…”

“Looks like…” Pandora mused, wiggling her fingers at him. If she was nervous, she was good at hiding it - in truth, that was the way she preferred it. Emotions were like sketching out a perfect likeness of a person… and she definitely found more advantage in the abstract, “C’mon Twitch, Buddy system.”

Abe growled, sticking close to Pandora. Some bloke had fucked up, that much was obvious. The pandemonium around them was only growing, and bodies were dropping. What the hell was in the air? Shaking his head at the waving of her fingers, he set his sights on the exit. “Best bet’s to get to the other side of this place.”

With a wink she instantly regretted - the brief closing of her eyes reminding her just how much the human cornea disdained smoke - she nodded, “Sounds about right.”

There was no sense discussing it beyond that, and ducking around the card table, she eyeballed the crowd a moment, bringing her elbow up to cover her mouth further, “Damn cattle… It’s a stampede.”

Coughing into his elbow, Abraham shook his head. All around them was chaos, the inmates pushing and shoving like the dogs were truly made out to be. Abe was a crook, but he missed the lavish home he’d grown up in, the spoils he’d purchased with the fruits of every heist. Now… he was lucky if some punk didn’t bash his face in while trying to escape the fumes of the boiler room. “Think someone broke it, or it just exploded?”

“‘Round this joint, Sugar… Who knows…” Pandora surmised, and she tried to smile, but by the now the fumes made her head hurt and there was a sense of dizziness, “...We gotta make a break, Twitch… Or I’m gonna need you to carry me like the big strong man you are. You ready..?”

His head felt like a brick of metal, vision blurring as he blinked, rapidly. Pan’s words were getting harder and harder to hear, but he pushed on through the sting. “Don’t think I’d be much of a help,” He wheezed, though he nodded. One last ditch effort, or the guards would probably gladly leave ‘em to rot. Mustering up a last bit of energy he could before dizziness consumed him, Abraham motioned towards a clearing in the sea of people before ducking off, grabbing her wrist.

Squeezing her eyes shut for a second, she opened them again, and when she felt Abe’s fingers wrap around her wrist, she didn’t hesitate. She took off, through the crowd, one arm blocking her face, the other carefully braced, ready in case someone bashed into them. It was a little like trying to wind their way through a meat-maze, and in a crowd of people with no qualms about hurting the little folks beneath them, it wasn’t ideal… but she kept close to Abe and moved swiftly, grateful for the first time that she wasn’t a five-foot-ten powerhouse.

Abe pushed and shoved to the best of his ability, determined not to be one of the unconscious bodies on the floor. He wasn’t the burliest, but he was tall enough to peek over the sea of heads. It was, in a way, reminiscent of the rush of a heist.. A little excitement around here, even if it meant noxious fumes, was somewhat appetizing to Abraham. “At least we got something to shake the routine!” He shouted.

Grinning, Pandora shrugged, “You get us the hell through this mess, Twitch, and I’ll show you how to shake the routine later, hm? The door gettin’ any closer? I’m ‘bout ready to drop… This stuff ain’t pretty, is it?”

Abraham smirked, though his eyelids fluttered, and his grip on Pandora was sweaty and slipping. “Sure isn’t.” He muttered, each step a taxing effort. “I see it,” He called, not about to let that promise of a routine shaker go, even though he was so close to tumbling to the ground…. “Just a little more..”

The pounding in her head came close to mind numbing, and she was reminded all too clearly of times best left in the past. It hurt, and the fog wasn't just external, but Abe dragged and she didn't hold back and when he urged them closer, she could feel a weight of relief building in her chest, “Hell, Sugar. Get us out and I'll teach you how to play cards, proper…”

Eyes watering, Abe put up his arm to shove past someone. It was strange, clinging onto someone so tight, clawing his way out with someone in tow. He wasn’t a loner, but he wasn’t a people person either. He didn’t want to collapse like this, that was for sure. How god damn stupid was it that there was only one door?

With one last shove Abraham slipped through the narrow opening, crowded by many others. He barely realized that he’d lost his grip on Pan. “Pandora?!” He shouted, voice hoarse and scratchy.

Not cattle… Bulls. They were like bull, shoving and gorey, trying to push their way through the door with all the ferocity of mad men, and Pandora… despite her best efforts, wasn’t exactly a force in such unpredictable circumstances. Heart pounding, chest tightening, she could feel panic rising, as Abe’s fingers slipped, slick, from her arm.

No. Hell no. She wasn’t going to die like this. Trampled to death by a bunch of brainless convicts. Following the sound of Abraham’s shout, she grabbed ahold of the nearest meathead and shoved, hard, using the man to plow through what she, otherwise wasn’t able to. Finally, she managed to break through and nearly toppling, caught hold of Abe again, eyes wide for a moment, before adrenaline kicked in and a grin replaced the momentary burst of fear, “...Looks like I owe you, there, Twitch.” Gesturing ahead, to the otherside of the chamber she nodded, “Guess we’re headed that way…”

Letting out a deep sigh of relief before breaking into a cough, Abe dragged his sleeve across his eyes. He’d seen that moment of fear in Pan’s eyes, something he never imagined would ever come to be.. chest heaving, a big grin spread across his face to match hers. It was scary… but that was the kind of scary he liked. “You sure do,” He hummed in response, taking a moment to catch his breath and try and recenter himself before following her gesture. “Let’s go.”
 

KatSea

Edgepeasant
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays
Posting Speed
Several Posts a Day
My Usual Online Time
Generally online in the afternoon eastern time
Writing Levels
Give-No-Fucks, Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
More passive but am decently comfortable with leading.
Favorite Genres
Fantasy, mystery, magical, modern,
Genre You DON'T Like
Dystopian, Survival stories,
Collab: The Furnace dun Messed Up. Luca Elle Joyner Elle Joyner

One moment, conversations had filled the courtyard in loud, raucous chorus, a cacophony of sound that made the ears ring and made one overtly aware of way too many hotwired people in one place. The next, the doors had burst inward, and guards filtered out like a small swarm, the brief shock of silence truncated by their scattered account of whatever crazy mess was going down.

Suddenly, smoke poured from the ground like fog over a riverbank, and swearing softly, Luca took a deep breath in, burying his face in the crook of his elbow. His eyes, already stinging, skimmed the crowd. There were faces out there he recognized… The newest Pup, River, Chloe, Chiko… they all came to mind - smaller… fragile on a good day. In a situation like this, chaos literally exploding around them without warning, they were sitting ducks… Hell. They were sitting duck eggs. Why he put it upon himself to play watchdog for these kids, he didn’t know… Maybe it was to make up for other losses … maybe it was some part of him that was just built to pity the little guys… Whatever it was, it was damn annoying when his gut instinct told him he was about to suck in a lung full of carbon monoxide.

Breathing as little as he could through his nose, arm covering his face, he struggled for a moment, trying desperately to locate someone… anyone. Finally, through the sea of frantic, panicked bodies, rushing for the door, he spotted the blonde head among the crowd, and pushing his way through, shoved nearer, “Cl..” Sucking in fumes, he grimaced, choking them back out again, “Clo! Hey!”

Chloe had figured a day playing solitare was going to calm her head, the ruckus of the other prisoner’s mere buzzing in the back of her mind. She had grown used to the noise, in fact, had almost grown an appreciation for it. She wasn’t alone in the courtyard, yet she was at peace to do what she liked. It almost felt like she was in her backyard again, reading to little baby Addi as he fell asleep in her lap.

The fog had taken her by surprise, the scent even more bothersome. Her body could only react in one way, and that was to move towards safety. She was on her feet, eyes scanning around for a familiar face as she covered her mouth and nose with her sleeve. She feared for the younger inmates, River and Chiko in particular, but could not seem to find them in the realm of chaos. A voice drew her back to reality, head snapping back at Luca’s voice. Relief flooded through her to see that he was okay, but it became difficult not to inhale any toxic air.

“L-luca?” She stuttered, pressing her hand back to her mouth after she coughed out the monoxide. She wished to make sure that he got to the exit with her and reached out for his arm.

Darting through the crowd, shoving aside the rampaging inmates, he reached Chloe’s side as she grasped out and catching her hand, he tugged her close enough to avoid the sea of shoving and butting, pulling his arm free from his face just enough that she could hear him, “Try not to talk! It’s Carbon Monoxide. Inhale too much and you’ll be down for the count. Hang on to my arm, I’ll get you to the door.”

His eyes skimmed the crowd, searching for the most inoffensive pass… It wasn’t ideal in any direction, but there seemed to be gaps in the spaces were a few guards had blacked out. Giving her a nudge, he eased forward, swiftly, but cautiously, “Sounds like the damn furnace blew… Can’t wait to see how they try to blame this one on us. You alright?”

Chloe blinked and tightened her grip around her nose and mouth, fearful that she would drop if she wasn’t careful. She didn’t know too much about Carbon Monoxide poisoning, but it did at least sound better than other forms of passing. Yet, that thought scared her and she knew better to listen to what Luca told her to do.

She nodded her head in thanks as he guided her, grateful that he was assisting her out of the mayhem. Worry bubbled in her core for the young pups, overwhelming her small stature until she found her shoulders threatening to shake. She forced herself to recompose, taking a deep breath once she was able. “D-d-damn. D-d-damn. T-the p-pups. T-the p-p-pups…” She murmured shakily, eyes glued to the ground in front of her. “F-fine b-but...p-pups…”

“They’ll be alright, Clo.” Luc continued, “Scrappers, they are… and Momma Hen’s lookin’ out for them. Woah, hang on…” Pausing, he glanced down, at frowned heavily at the sight at his feet - a guard, collapsed onto their side… He’d tried to raise a hand, it seemed, to cover his face, but hadn’t been quick enough. Swearing softly, Luca looked over to Chloe, then over her head to the door, several yards away, still, “...Can’t leave the poor bastard… Stay put. Just one sec, yeah?”

Bending, hating himself for whatever twisted conscience he’d been blessed with, Luca grabbed the downed guard by the arms and heaving, straightened upright, thrusting the unconscious man over his shoulder. One arm bracing the guard in place, his free arm out, he nodded for Chloe to take it, “We gotta move fast as we can. Ready?”

Chloe bobbed her head, trusting that he was correct with his thinking.She couldn’t bare the idea of one of the pups dropping dead in this mess, only to get stampeded by a horde of panicked prisoners. Her eyes flickered down to the body that Luca had heaved onto his shoulder, something warm sparking in her chest. For a prisoner at this hellhole, Luca had a conscience that Chloe didn’t normally see when she was free. A lot of the souls in this prison were brighter than the lackluster excuses for human beings she had met before.

“R-ready.” She stammered uncertainty, eyes glued to the guard slumped over his shoulders. She slowly grasped his arm, feeling somewhat lightheaded. She wasn't sure if it was anxiety, lack of breath or what she was inhaling. Maybe all three.

With his arms taken up, Luca was forced to hold his breath as much as he could, taking shallow inhalations through his nose as little as possible. It hurt, burned, really, and his eyes stung against it, blurring his vision a little. He felt woozy… beads of sweat dampening his forehead and knew well enough how bad a sign that was, but he had three lives to think about, not just one, and hell if he was gonna let them down… or let himself get taken out by a frickin’ cloud of death. Pushing forward, he propelled them into the throng again, using his height and broad shoulders to their advantage, hefting the guard higher, and leading with the man’s heavy-soled boots when necessary.

They were close now, just a little ways away. Glancing to Chloe, he could feel weighed down by weariness, but he nodded with as much enthusiasm as he could muster, “Little further, Clo. Just one more push…”

It didn’t take Chloe long to realize how horribly Luca was going to be affected by inhaling the Monoxide, and she knew that if he wasn’t careful he was going to collapse. “S-sorry about t-this.” She mumbled as he propelled both of them through, using her free hand to reach up and press her hand against his face. She would apologize for the awkwardness later, but she figured it would help him for the meantime. She attempted to lead them, struggling to push through the mass. She didn’t want to have to drag Luca’s body to safety if it came down to it. Chloe may not have been the most frail person, physically, but she was certain it wasn’t going to be easy getting both limp bodies to safety. “C-c-come on b-bud…”

He’d have laughed at how ridiculous they probably looked, if he wasn’t so grateful for Chloe’s quick thinking. In truth, he’d probably breathed in too much for it to matter, but he could hold himself together, so long as he focused, and focus, he did. Pushing with every ounce of energy he had in him, he got through the crowd, go to the doors and shoving through that last bottleneck of desperate convicts, he nearly fell forward into the opening on the other side, collapsing to his knees to put the guard down, and sucking in a much needed breath of … somewhat fresh air.

“Thanks Cariña… Good lookin’ out. You good?”

Chloe finally took a deep breath of stale air, her chest slumping in relief. Dropping her arms down to her sides, she swept her gaze over to Luca, nearly beaming at him for assisting her and the unconscious guard. He had probably saved both of their lives, while risking his own. Chloe’s head tilted. How did a man like him end up in prison? Then again, she didn’t think she would either as a child. Triple(supposed) homicide changes a lot of plans. “C-carina?” She question, shaking her head dismissively. “N-no. I-I should t-thank you. Y-you r-really h-helped out b-back there. I-I am f-f-fine. M-m-more concerned about y-you.” She swallowed, approaching him and kneeling slightly to offer him a hand to help him up. “I-I w-was w-worried f-f-for a-a moment S-s-sorry f-for sh-shoving m-my hand in y-your f-face. I-I’d n-normally b-buy d-d-dinner first.” She tried to tease, offering him a halfhearted smile.

Chuckling, choking out the fumes that seemed to have wrapped themselves around his lungs, he shook his head and bracing his hands, he pushed back up to his feet. Casually, he brushed aside her first question with a charming smirk, “Don’t apologize. I’ve had worse things shoved in my face. And don’t worry about me, yeah? I’m gonna a’ight. Looks like we’re headed that way… Better stick close. This many goons in one place, riled up the way they are? It ain’t gonna be pretty…”

“A-as h-have I.” She mumbled with a minor grimace. The wince melted away as he was able to stay stable on his feet. She didn’t know how much he managed to inhale, but it appeared that he was going to be alright. “I-if you a-are sure. J-just n-need t-to c-check so I d-don’t g-gotta c-carry you at all.” Her eyes flickered worriedly across the many guards and prisoners that managed to get out. She couldn’t see any of the pups just yet, but she knew she had to keep moving and that they would be alright. They were strong. Stronger than she was when she first got in. “Y-yeah. I-I’ll stick c-close L-luc. D-don’t wanna b-be c-crammed w-with any m-more goons t-then needed.” She shivered at the thought. She had been here a near decade, and some of the prisoners still managed to frighten her. She had learned how to stick her ground, but there were still some that reminded her a little too much of smashed skull.

Laughing again, Luca shook his head, giving her a once over, “...I’m gonna go ahead and try to stay on my feet, cause funny as it’d be, watching you try to carry my sorry ass around, I ain’t about to do you like that.” His expression shifted as he watched her shiver, and his fingers looped gingerly around her wrist, as he started forward, “I gotcha, Clo. Let’s go.”

“I-it’d o-only be f-funny because I-I c-c-could d-deadlift y-you.” She winked, knowing that wasn’t true, or that if it was true, she wasn’t willing to test it out. “B-but t-thank you f-for not m-making me use m-my f-far s-superior m-muscles.” She attempted to slow down her speech as she spoke, wanting to make sure she didn’t stutter as bad.

She swallowed as he grasped her wrist, but knowing that he meant no harm, her shoulders slumped. “T-thank you L-Luca.” She gently nudged her elbow to his side and followed after him, her gaze occasionally attempting to catch a glimpse behind her. She struggled to indentify the people she wished to see got out. Her heart threatened to plummet.

“You keep those guns under wraps, now… Don't wanna make any of these grunts jealous, yeah?” Giving her shoulder a gentle nudge, his eyes moved to the crowd, watchful, diligent...
 
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Mobley Eats

Consume. Smother your doubts. Be fulfilled.
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Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Female, No Preferences
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A bit of both, lean more towards passive.
Favorite Genres
Modern, Romance, Fantasy, Scifi, Drama, Action.
Genre You DON'T Like
Horror, Mystery (I like them, just not good at it)

Amit Yedidya | Location: Courtyard to Corridors | Interactions: Unconscious Guard

Amit could admit without a single fiber of guilt in his body that this guard bitch needed to shed more than just a few pounds. Gods--what were her innards composed of, compact steel? And dew nuts. Or whatever that American pastry was called. Steel and dew nuts. This woman just needed to cut both components from her diet and overall lifestyle immediately, because his spine was downright shrieking at him in wraith. Each and every vertebrae, aching, protesting, demanding why he put them through a strain that they rarely faced. Carrying an entire human being that undoubtedly weighed more than him? And towards safety?

And now his mind and moral compass were jumping into the fray. Great.

Then Amit was barreled over again, the guard nearly taken the brunt of impact before he shifted slightly, his shoulder and leg throbbing under her weight. Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck! I'll kill these sons of bitches! Growling under his breath, he attempted to roll onto his hands and knees, yelping in pain as a boot clipped his fingers; he could only toss it up to dumb luck that it didn't dislocate or break anything. Fucking animals. He was surrounded by them. Breathed the same toxic air as them...He needed to move. At this rate, he and the guard were destined for death today. Gritting his teeth, he shouldered and elbowed at the prisoners, struggling to his feet with a hand secured around the guard's arm. Still somewhat hunched over but with better footing now, he heaved her up over his shoulder, every muscle in his body groaning from the strain.

If he made it out of this alive, he swore to attend the gym more often.

But for now, survival.

As Amit pushed through the chaos, he may or may not have lashed out with the guards legs like whipping noodle weapons, but he did what he had to, no matter how odd it looked. Plus, it worked. Prisoners were cursing and ducking away from, shooting him dirty and wide-eyed looks. Yes, I'm crazy! Isn't that what you've all been saying about the dangerous terrorist, he thought bitterly, somewhat with a hint of amusement. Damned monkeys. You deserve this demise and rotting in Hell fire! The exit was achingly close now. His head was swimming. His eyes burned and watered. His entire body throbbed. He whipped some more at the fools clogging the only way out. He hated this.

He stepped out into freedom.

A massive exhale exploded from his lungs, nearly collapsing from the relief before catching himself with a hand to the wall, just barely holding up the woman. Gods. Gods above! That was...taxing. And irritating. Beyond infuriating. Who were the incompetent fools that designed the boiler, let alone the layout of the Courtyard? Of course, he had taken note of the inferior design years ago, but only now had its weakness been exposed in the worst scenario possible. To put simply, he was angry. And when anger pumped through Amit's veins, it left a tempting taste on the back of his tongue. It was only natural to savor it.

To indulge.

Slowly, bloodshot eyes strayed to the holster on the unconscious guard's hip. There was mass panic, no one paying him any mind. It'd be so easy, without a single consequence upon his head...

Amit sat the woman down, propping her up on a nearby bench. Somebody would get her--maybe. He rid her uniform of her firearm and name tag; Miss Julian Ross. Thank you for your assistance, Julian. Amit smirked while stuffing the tag into his pocket, then admired the gun in his grasp. A Blazer. He hated to admit how well he understood these contraptions, only because it originated from a lapse in judgement two years ago...a petty lapse, in hindsight. But still. The knowledge sure came in handy now.

He spun around, leveling his aim with a medium-sized dial pad next to the exit, and pulled the trigger.

A ball of electricity rocketed from the barrel, skimming nearby prisoners and burning through the fabric of their uniforms to leave behind blistered skin, and fried the device in a burst of sparks. Crackling noises pierced the mayhem, followed by the doors closing. Inmates who were attempting to escape frantically squeezed their ways through the gap, lessening more and more by the second until the twin slabs of metal finally met with a long hissss...

As for the prisoners who had yet to escape, Amit couldn't describe the satisfaction coursing through him as he watched them bang against the glass. He'd like to see them threaten him with a bomb up the ass now. Smirking, he placed the Blazer back into Julian's holster, paused, then ripped off a hunk of her sleeve to tie the fabric around her face. There. His leverage would survive--hopefully.

Ducking into the crowd, Amit sprinted to safety.


Tag: Elle Joyner Elle Joyner , CloudyBlueDay CloudyBlueDay , KatSea KatSea (Yes I suck, I know)
 

Elle Joyner

I guess...
Roleplay Invitations
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Several Posts a Day
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8:00 AM - 4:00 PM
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Prestige
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Primarily Prefer Female
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Probably a mix. When I GM I tend to prefer mostly aggressive, but with input from my players. I like to offer ideas and receive them. I don't like when people just take the reins and run with it though...especially in a 1x1.
Favorite Genres
Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
Genre You DON'T Like
Anime. Ever. Just not my jam.

Smut. Romance as a main plot. Horror. Grimdark.
________PANDORA_________________________________________________

The chaos unfurled in more panic, and Pandora spun as cries struck out from the crowd around them, this time, cries of pain. At first, she was sure that it was a guard - she recognized the sound of the weapon, and knew all too well the sting... but why? Why here, in an already fueled situation...

And then reality hit. It wasn't a guard. Someone had seized the opportunity to create more trouble, and in doing so, had damned a great deal of prisoners, still locked on the other side of the door. She wasn't a particularly sentimental person - and really, most of the people in 343 deserved to be there, but some didn't... and there was no telling what poor sods were on the other side, choking to death because somebody decided it was a good time to be a grade A butthole.

She spotted him... running. They always ran, and she never understood why. Every bounty she ever took on, they ran. Like it was ingrained into their minds that the only way to escape was to flee. But it made them obvious, it made them a target. Smiling dryly, shaking her head, she watched as he neared where she and Abe had paused, "...Oh Amat."

Carefully, so as not to be terribly conspicuous, she waited until he neared before sticking out her foot with just enough force to send him sprawling if he hit it. Simply put. If he was gonna be an idiot... he was gonna answer for it.

________LUCA_________________________________________________

The doors swung in with a hiss, but to Luca, it might as well had been a slam. As the weapon discharged, he'd spun to see what it hit and his heart sank as he watched the box spark out, watched the doors slowly squeeze together. There were countless others in the courtyard, stll, and he hadn't been able to locate any of the others... Chiko, River, Hana... they were all missing. Which meant he was going to have to do something really... really stupid.

Swearing, he turned to Chloe, reaching for her shoulders, "Don't move. Okay? Don't move from this spot! And if anyone tries anything, you give 'em a kick in the crotch, yeah?"

Not waiting for her answer, he ducked back through the crowd, back the way they'd come, reaching the doors within a few seconds. There was a guard still, lingering, a look of pure confusion on his face as he studied the splintered panel. Skidding to a halt, Luca's eyes moved to the doors, to the vacuum seal at the center and chewing on his cheek, he nodded, "We can get it open again, but we need leverage. Something to pry..."

The guard turned as he spoke, and a brow quirked as the man looked Luca over, "...Panel's shot."

"Yeah... I can see that. But it's got a mechanical override, if you can get it open far enough. Your baton..." He gestured to the long stick hanging from the man's belt and the guard scoffed.

"Like hell."

"Those people are gonna die in there!" Luca cried, his voice pitched with anger.

"Less for me to worry about, then, ain't it." The guard muttered and Luca felt his cheeks redden as rage curled over him like a blanket.

"There are kids in there!"

The guard shrugged, hands on his hips "Not my concern. Not my problem..."

His fist balled, and before he could stop himself, the anger took hold. He swung, hard and fast, and the guard dropped as Luca's punch collided with the bridge of his nose, "...Now it's your problem." He muttered, shaking out his hand, before bending to unclip the baton. Around him, the other inmates had stepped back, and in the space, Luca moved to jam the baton between the two rubber seals, his arms shaking as he shoved with every iota of strength he possessed, "C'mon... c'mon!!"
 

Mobley Eats

Consume. Smother your doubts. Be fulfilled.
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A bit of both, lean more towards passive.
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Modern, Romance, Fantasy, Scifi, Drama, Action.
Genre You DON'T Like
Horror, Mystery (I like them, just not good at it)
Collab Post: Shipwrecked | Interactions: Bahram KatSea KatSea & Wick Elle Joyner Elle Joyner | Location: Courtyard


“I’m gonna freaking sink your ship if it kills me, bro!” Chiko slammed both hands to the table, eyes narrowed with a dead serious expression. Well, as dead serious as her face could handle. Her play partner sat opposite of her, seeming so cozy with his untouched battleships.

Not for long, she thought, lips pursing as the cogs turned aggressively in her brain. It honestly didn’t make any sense. None! How in the world did Bah keep avoiding her bombs like that, like it was nothing? As far as Chiko could envision, she should’ve landed at least one hit by now. One. And yet, this Goliath of a dude had the stealth of a featherweight ninja.

“Okay...I got this…” She held up a finger, eyes wide with hope and anticipation. “A7!”

“Consider yourself dead, Chi.” Bahram claimed, vacant tone playful underneath layers of husky nonchalance. “That’s a miss.” Bahram smiled pleasantly as he glanced at his board, somewhat proud of himself for bundling all of his ships in one discreet corner on the top left of his board. His smile deflated as there was a sudden change in atmosphere, a faint aroma unpleasant to his senses. His brow furrowed and he noted chaos around him. Something about a boiler exploding.

No good. No good at all. Calm and collected, Bahram patiently made his way from his seat to Chiko’s side, hand grasped gently around her arm. “Cover your mouth. I have a feeling we need to follow the madness.” He slowly brought his free hand up to his face, covering both his nose and mouth expectantly.

The world exploded... and death came in fog. Wick stood in the center of the courtyard, doing what she normally did. She stared. She stared, because a part of her, the part of her that was content with the way people thought of her, enjoyed making them uncomfortable. They knew what she’d done, and they knew what she was capable of and the uneasiness that brought out in others was… delightful.

But then the mood shifted, and there was yelling and running and smoke. Great big thick gobs of it, pouring up from the ground. And at the corner of her lips, a smile, because it seemed natural, in some way, that it would be the thing to take her down… little, curling wisps of doom… in a sea of monsters like her.

“W-what? Why’re we leaving?” Chiko pouted up at Bahram, only to blink as she registered the weird smell and, like...everyone yelling. And running. Like it was Doomsday or something. “Oh shit.” Without a single word of complaint--because Chiko liked to act first and ask questions later--she mimicked Bah and slapped a hand over her own mouth, allowing him to haul her up to her feet. However, before they could set off, she caught something in her peripherals.

It was some woman, an inmate that...Chiko honestly didn’t recognize. She had a hard time remembering people unless they made a big impression on her. Regardless, it was obvious that the woman was just...standing there. In the middle of danger mode shit. And with the decent amount of common sense Chiko had, she figured that wasn’t the wisest thing in the world to do right now. “Oi! Uh, hold up, Bah,” she yelled, slipping out of the man’s hand and running up to the woman...basically disappearing into the crowd.

As mentioned before, Chiko didn’t think much.

“Hey! What’re you standing there for?” she said, coming up to the woman while wrapping a hand around her wrist, tugging. Her other arm covered her mouth and nose, eyes blurring from the smoke. “We gotta get out of here! Follow me and my giant bud!”

Bahram would gladly confess the relief that engulfed him as Chiko hopped to her feet, mimicking his actions and ready to head to the main exit. His eyes flickered with raw concern as she pried herself off of him, however, darting towards a woman who(as he could very easily see above the crowd)didn’t appear to realize the danger she was in. Bahram only knew she had been here for a little while, but what he did know was…

Unsettling. Even for the mass murderers that greeted him daily.

“Chi!” He called out, being sure to return his hand to his mouth after he called for her, pushing past easily as he made his way to the young woman. “Come on, we need to go now.” He did not wish to admit how blurry his eyes threatened to be, having to blink multiple time to suppress the nuisance.

“Why are they running, sweetie?” Wick mused, her eyes not quite focused on Chiko, “We're all going to die, someday, anyway. Silly Puppies… aren't they?”

“We’re runnin’ cuz we’re trying not to die,” Chiko said, not quite realizing how disturbing the woman’s reply was. How could she, though? Her mind wasn’t exactly attuned to detecting that sort of vibe right now. “Yep, yep, we’re all silly and jazz. Cool--now let’s go lady.” She shuffled up behind Bah, knowing full well that he would make a good bulldozer to get through the crowd. “Onward,” she said, her voice muffled behind the crook of her arm.

“Silly…” Bahram’s brow furrowed in concern, but in all honesty, in his near decade here, this wasn’t the most far-fetched phrase to be uttered by an inmate. “If there is a God, watch over me.” He mumbled as he made sure Chiko was safely tucked behind him. Getting through the crowd to bring these two women to safety wasn’t going to be a challenge. Bahram was more concerned about them staying close. One hand grasped about Chiko’s arm, Bahram began to steer them forward, realizing in sudden horror that there was more than just the chaos of the crowd in the way. There was something else going on, but he was too behind to quiet catch what it was. It didn’t feel like the crowd was...well, moving.

“Cows. That's what they should call us. Cows… to the slaughter. Will you be dinner… or a fine hat for the Warden?” A smile flickered to her lips, and Wick's eyes scanned the crowd, “Somebody's in trouble…”

Catching bits and pieces of Wick’s words, Chiko felt inclined to hum Ole McDonald under her breath, the tiniest hint of amusement bubbling up within her. Heh--she remembered one house party played that over the speakers, but as some sort of EDM remix. Those were good times--

Oh wait. Right. Dying--and avoiding it.

“Oi, oi!” She stood on her tip-toes, struggling to tap Bah on the shoulder. “What gives? Why’re we stopping? I, uh...my head’s feeling light here.” And it ain’t the kind I’m used to… A dull pounding was already knocking at the back of her skull and her eyes watered.

“I do not wish to be rude. Do not speak.” Bahram commanded, forcing himself to cough up whatever toxic air he may have inhaled. He forced a few inmates back as he guided the girls closer to the door, realizing what was the matter. His eyes widened. He felt tranquility flee him for the first time in years, knowing now that someone was attempting to murder them. Everyone left in the courtyard.

“Oh fuck.” Watching other inmates pound on the door sent shivers down his spine. Bahram was never afraid of death, but he knew fully well that he had two young pups behind him, ones who deserved life beyond what they had already experienced.

However, there was some hope given to him. He could see very well that there was a gap in the door, even if it was slim. He thanked God under his breath that he didn’t grow weak after a decade of temptation to simply lie in his cell, prying his hands away from his face and from Chiko’s arm. He held his breath, his eyes burning. He realized how ridiculous he must have appeared, cheeks puffed out with held breath and body tense as he gripped the open door. He pulled, hard enough where his muscles threatened to scorch. He hadn’t felt this intensity in his muscles since the last proper fight he had been in, catching his arm in the arena’s net as his opponent struck. He had still won that fight, using his body’s leverage while stuck in place. He knew he could win this as well, as long as he did not faint.

He could feel his head grow lighter and lighter, forcing his body not to sway. He could feel himself make some headway, his lungs begging for release.
 

CloudyBlueDay

consistently inconsistent
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Chat Roleplays, Not Taking RP Invites at this Time, Private Convo Roleplays
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I check as often as I can.
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Intermediate, Adept, Advanced, Adaptable
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Male, Female, No Preferences
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Both.
Favorite Genres
Fantasy, Realistic/Modern, Magic, Scifi, Romance
Genre You DON'T Like
I am generally not a huge fan of RPing Fandom, but it can depend.
Mother Hen and Little Duckling
Collab with @Mobley

“I do not know,” Hana rushed out, wincing with each rough bump and shove smacking into her left and right. There were several moments in which she nearly lost her balance, only to catch herself at last moment with a yank at the random uniform. Inmates were too occupied with surviving to pay her grasps any mind, aside from the occasional glares.

How could this have happened? She had mopped and swept the Boiler Chamber numerous, chatted with the mechanics several times, and she never caught whiff of any warning signs. It seemed stable--old, but stable. It’s sudden collapse, it didn’t make any sense.

She paused briefly to slip behind River, keeping him in her eyesight so she wouldn’t risk losing him in the crowd. “Stay in the front of me, child,” she ordered while trying to crane her neck over the sea of bodies. She was a fairly tall and lanky woman, so it wasn’t terribly difficult to do so.

The chaos in surrounding them was overwhelming. He could barely function when it was calm, let alone when people were pushing and shoving. He was barely bold enough to ask someone to move out of his way if they were standing in front of him. Now, he felt like he was drowning, and his only support was Hana. He was going to thank her a million times over after this, because if she hadn’t picked him up off the floor, he wasn’t sure he would have even gotten back up.

At her orders he nodded frantically, getting shoved mercilessly by the people in front and around him but still keeping upright. “I-If we c-can get to the d-d-oor,” He yelped over the wave of panicked shouts.

“We will,” Hana insistented, a faint wheeze entering her voice as she accidentally inhaled more carbon monoxide. Her head began to swim, a dull pounding blooming to life in her temples. She leaned forward to keep her balance with River’s help, but suddenly felt an overwhelming back ram into her from behind.

A rather beefy and desperate prisoner had jabbed an elbow into her spine, easily tossing the woman over and leaving her exposed to getting trampled over.

“Move, stick!” His voice, deep and gravelly, hitched with the onset of fear, though he attempted to overshadow it with annoyance and tried to trudge over her.

River blinked furiously, trying to rid the stinging in his eyes. Even though his fate had been condemned to this prison… he wasn’t ready to die. He didn’t want too, not yet. Not with Hana urging him on. Not with her..

Hana? Suddenly he lost her face in the crowd and he looked frantically behind him. An angered shout echoed, and River’s heart dropped to his stomach. He understood immediately that Hana had been pushed to the ground - and at the rate this sea of heads was moving, she’d be crushed.

“Hey!” River cried, voice cracking as he threw himself into the beefier inmate, if only to allow Hana a split second to stand. Oh, this was a bad idea.

Hana’s brain was slow at first to understand what was going on, the toxic air muddling her perception of the world. However, reality snapped back to clarity as she heard River’s cry, instantly sending a bolt of dread through her body.

The prisoner didn’t budge an inch from River’s push, though his foot just missed flattening Hana’s ribs. “Got a problem, lil shit?” he growled, seizing River by the throat and starting to force him back, a glint of something ominous kindling in his eyes.

River supposed he should be thankful, because he certainly wasn’t breathing in anymore carbon monoxide. Not with the prisoner’s hands squeezing his neck. As he choked and coughed, desperately squirming, River did the only thing he could think of; raised his leg, and kicked the prisoner in the crotch as hard as he could muster.

He had seen it coming, but his body didn’t react fast enough to avoid the crippling blow. The inmate expelled a weird cross between a cough and squeal, hunching over in pain and his grip on River slipping.

Hana, who had staggered to her feet, allowed a bemused smile to grace her lips with swelling pride. “That is my child.” As an afterthought, she delivered another kick to his side, tipping him over onto his side. It wasn’t the strongest hit in the world, but when a grown man was occupied with nursing his devastated groin, there wasn’t much resistance on his part aside from a whimper. ”My child! Never you lay hands on him!” A hand flew to River’s arm, nearly shaking. “You are the alright?”

As soon as the hulky inmate’s grip slipped River pulled away, coughing and heaving as he tried to regain his breath, which wasn’t the greatest considering he was inhaling buckets of carbon monoxide. Stumbling, River grasped Hana just to keep himself upright, eyes wide as he nodded furiously. “F-f-fine --” He wheezed, tears stinging his eyes, barely letting go of Hana as he tugged on her desperately. “L-let’s go!”

Gently, though frantically, instinct drove Hana to wipe away at whatever tears rolled down River’s face, even when she knew that it was likely brought on by the gas filling the air. “Y-yes, yes. We go.” Without another word, they continued weaving through the crowd and much to their luck, the exit was close within reach.

Until she saw inmates banging and screaming at the doors, which were closed. “Sky Father,” she whispered gravely. It seemed that two men were working together to pry it open, but she couldn’t help but wonder if this was how her life finally ended.

If anyone were to ever ask, those tears were all because of the gas, but River knew otherwise. He almost burst out into full on sobbing when Hana wiped them away; he was so afraid, so desperately afraid, and… no one had ever wiped away his tears before. But he only chewed on his lip to stop himself from saying anything else, pushing forward with Hana until he heard her whisper. No… no. The doors were closed. Inmates were trying, desperately, but it looked like they were failing. Still, River pushed through the crowd. “W-We have to help them!”

Yes, River was right; they needed to help and quickly, as Hana’s state of consciousness was reaching its limit. An unignorable numbness started prickling along her skin and burrowed into her muscles, taking one fiber hostage at a time. She circled around the behemoth of a man--Bahram; she wasn’t terribly social with the man, but he treated his kids well, Chiko right behind him behind proof of that, so she had qualms about looping her fingers through the gap and pulling at one of the doors. “C-come, child!” she called out, squinting through blurry vision at River.

Frantically following Hana’s call, River stepped up to the doors, nodding to her and at Chiko, glad to see her but his head a little to fuzzy for him to say anything else. With all the strength River could muster, he found his own little piece of the slabs of metal to grab, and with as much might he could store in his frail body, River tugged.
 
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Mobley Eats

Consume. Smother your doubts. Be fulfilled.
Original poster
DONATING MEMBER
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
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Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Female, No Preferences
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
A bit of both, lean more towards passive.
Favorite Genres
Modern, Romance, Fantasy, Scifi, Drama, Action.
Genre You DON'T Like
Horror, Mystery (I like them, just not good at it)

Amit Yedidya | Location: Corridors | Interactions: Pan Elle Joyner Elle Joyner

Amit's world plummeted. And then an explosion of pain ripped through his nose as it smacked into metal. For fuck's sake. He couldn't go one day without some small-minded waste of space running his mood, could he? Of course not. He was in galactic hell, after all. What was important, however, was figuring out what in the world just happened, how it happened, and who did it. The terrorist groaned, slowly sitting up on his knees as he carefully touched his nose. It stung. Badly. A numb ache that spoke of an ugly bruise forming later down the road.

Delightful.

Pulling a grimace, Amit's gaze snapped up, absolute fire in his eyes and a growl working up his throat...Only for the passion to extinguish itself upon seeing Pan. Fucking Pan. Looking as smug and infuriating as ever. Of course, it couldn't have been anyone else to harass him in such an untimely manner. This woman drained him with just a single twitch of her pinky finger; it was a mystery even to himself why he bothered having any level of relations with this human-shaped migraine.

Heaving a sigh, he stood up, briefly staggered from a temporary burst of vertigo, then righted himself before grumpily glaring at her. "Amit," he spat. "Not Amat." He gently prodded at the bridge of his nose again. He didn't know what this woman wanted with him now, but he knew to practice some level of patience around her. She was one of few prisoners that unsettled him, and for reasons he couldn't quite decode yet. "Why'd you trip me?"
 
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Elle Joyner

I guess...
Roleplay Invitations
Not Taking RP Invites at this Time
Posting Speed
Several Posts a Day
My Usual Online Time
8:00 AM - 4:00 PM
Writing Levels
Prestige
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Primarily Prefer Female
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Probably a mix. When I GM I tend to prefer mostly aggressive, but with input from my players. I like to offer ideas and receive them. I don't like when people just take the reins and run with it though...especially in a 1x1.
Favorite Genres
Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
Genre You DON'T Like
Anime. Ever. Just not my jam.

Smut. Romance as a main plot. Horror. Grimdark.
________PANDORA_________________________________________________

"No." Pandora murmured with a small hint of a growl in her tone. She stepped forward, putting her foot on the small of his back, eyes narrowing, "It's Amat. A frickin' door mat. Cause that's what you're gonna be in a minute, soon as these fine folks figure out you're the idiot who decided to get fancy with the fireworks."

Lifting her foot, she shook her head, and stepped back, "What the hell were you thinking?? There are people in there! And they don't deserve to suck in poison till they suffocate cause you're havin' a pissy, bored afternoon." Bending down, she leaned in closer, "You may be on a prison ship, but till now, I was pretty sure you weren't one of these bastards, hopped up on hurtin' others. Disappointed in you, Amit."

________LUCA_________________________________________________

His shoulders tensed, the pain lancing across his back and down his arms as he pushed with every ounce of strength he possessed, against the hydraulics, quaking muscles threatening to snap, to give. He'd gotten it about a quarter of the way open, but he couldn't push and further, he couldn't... Those people on the other side were going to die, and he couldn't hold out for a few more damn seconds. It was infuriating... River, Chiko, Hana... He hadn't seen any of them in the crowd, and he was letting them down...

Suddenly the door shifted, and looking up, Luca saw a bear-like figure shoving the doors from the other side. He eased the gap wider, and the gears groaned, but the door shifted further, inch by inch...

"About damn time..." Luca muttered, but not with a grin. With a deep breath that turned into a growl, he shoved against the metal again, his strength renewed with the backup of the giant. Working together, they managed to shove the door back into the jam, palms pressing flat against it, holding it.... "Everybody through, now!
 

CloudyBlueDay

consistently inconsistent
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Chat Roleplays, Not Taking RP Invites at this Time, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week
My Usual Online Time
I check as often as I can.
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced, Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, No Preferences
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Both.
Favorite Genres
Fantasy, Realistic/Modern, Magic, Scifi, Romance
Genre You DON'T Like
I am generally not a huge fan of RPing Fandom, but it can depend.
A VERY SHORT WALK HOME

With Bahram and Luca pulling on opposite sides, the door finally gave way, and River let out an enthusiastic cheer as it was finally pushed open. Beaming, albeit through blurred and swirling vision, River nodded to Hana and Chiko before slipping through the door. “Luca!” He wheezed, voice barely a hoarse whisper and his eyes still wet. “Th-th-thank g-goodness y-you’re okay.”

Grimacing, Luca straightened his arms to hold the weight of the door, “Good to see you, too, Niño… Hana, Chiko…” The door budged just slightly and swearing, Luca pushed harder, “Maybe wanna just… move a little faster there, folks?”

Hana was quick to stumble out behind River, keeping her eyes on him and Chiko, who also hopped out with the energy of a lethargic jackrabbit. Hyper, but definitely bogged down by the fumes. “Goddamn, that was scary!” the small woman exclaimed, the concern actually peeking through as she realized that, Hell, she wouldn’t be dying today. “That was damn close…”

“Too close, my child. Too close,” Hana murmured breathlessly, pulling the woman in to kiss the top of her head before doing the same for River. She looked back at Bahram and...some unsettling woman standing behind him. They would be safe. They were okay. Chest heaving, she nodded gratefully at Luca before whispering, “Thank you, Luca. Thank you.” However, she knew that none of them could remain idly, as she could still smell the smoke spilling through the gap. She eyed the bustling crowd ahead, at the general direction they were running. “We must the go. Quick fast now.”
 

Mobley Eats

Consume. Smother your doubts. Be fulfilled.
Original poster
DONATING MEMBER
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Female, No Preferences
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
A bit of both, lean more towards passive.
Favorite Genres
Modern, Romance, Fantasy, Scifi, Drama, Action.
Genre You DON'T Like
Horror, Mystery (I like them, just not good at it)
Year: 2813
Location: Hagur-343 | Briefing Chamber
Time: 3:15 PM | Free Period




“Where’re my Tributes, Miss Bellamy.” A pixelated silhouette towered over Romana, nothing more than a blue construct in a hologram. And yet, the Guidance Warden couldn’t ignore the way her spine erected and the hairs on the back of her neck stood to attention.

“We’re assigning them today,” she said.

“You’ve taken this year’s preferences into consideration.” It was meant to be a question but rang true as a statement. An obvious fact.

Romana nodded, extracting one folder from a stack of thirty before her. She flipped idly through the Tribute’s files; their history and crimes seemed to work well for their objective, along with the rest of the potentials. Of course, today would help narrow down the headcount. “We have plenty to pool from, sir.”

“I’m more concerned about quality over quantity, Miss Bellamy.” A hint of steel colored his tone. “We all are. I promise you, if this doesn’t go perfectly to plan, then you know what’ll happen.” A grim pause. He leaned forward. “And I’ll be sure that you go down with it. Am I understood?”

Romana nodded, staring through the hologram. “Yes sir.”

“Good.”

The call ended.

Heaving a sigh, Romana massaged her bow and flipped through the files once more, the black coffee warming her free hand just a few degrees shy of pleasant. Potentials. So many potentials. But she couldn’t afford to pick carelessly...

In the next moment, the alarmed blared and two guards came barreling into the chamber. Their voices blended into white noise, her interest in their existence fading until…

Boiler. Explosion. South Wing blockade.

Slamming her mug down with a growl, she marched down the corridors with the guards manning either sides of her, trailing behind a step. “Round up Units 3, 4 and 5 to the blockade, send the rest in for casualtie control. But I swear…” Her hollow eyes glimmered like black ice. “For every single potential that dies, a guard gets Put Down. Am I clear?”

A chilling pause from the men, their throats bobbing with swallows, before they nodded and said in unison, “Yes ma’am.”

Another pause, this one weighed down with words that were desperate to be heard. Romana was observant, as perceptive as a predator, but she lacked the patience. Gnashing her teeth, she whipped around, halting the guards in their tracks.

“What. Else.”

“Th-the feed, Warden,” one guard piped up, posture rigid. “There’s just been a report of several outlashes--”

“During a boiler explosion,” Romana sneered, “Am I supposed to feel surprised?”

“W-well…”

“The next words to escape your mouth will determine whether or not you’ll find yourself cremated and spending the next eternity as space waste.”

The guard paled. “S-some of the outlashes were p-potentials, Warden,” he stammered.

Romana’s brow arched. “Are they now? Well…” She adjusted her blazer, chin raised indignantly. “That’s rather convenient news, Mr…” A glance at the guard’s badge. “Watson. Very convenient.”

Turning sharply on her heel, she waved dismissively over her shoulder before ordering, “Please do guide Watson to the Put Down for me.”

“What--Mmph?!” Watson’s protest became muffled against a pair of gloved hands, followed by several more pairs as a throng of guards dragged him off. His distant screams echoed throughout the chamber.

Romana smirked.



Location: Hagur-343 | Holding Cells / South Wing
Time: 3:45 PM | Free Period




The bodies were endless. Overheating. Angry. Outraged. Demanding answers and reprieve and elbow room. Prisoners were pressed uncomfortable close together, corralled into a space practically barred closed by a chain link of guards adorning thick gear and six-foot tall shields, Blazers on their hips and batons at the ready. A scant few were shepherding even more prisoners into the wing as they came by the bunches, hunched over and coughing from lingering smoke in their lungs.

Regardless, the intimidation attempt did little to calm the inmates’ impatience; rather, the promise of electricity-charged assault fanned the kindling fire and they grew more restless by the second, their yells climbing in volume.

And fingers were starting to itch.

An inmate chewed frantically at this thumbnail, pulsating and bleeding from the abuse, as his sunken sockets for eyes twitched from one corner of the ship to another in a frenzy. “I can’t take it...H-heh...Heheh--I can’t! I-I can’t take it,” he cackled manically. Like a sickly snake, he sprinted forth and tackled a prisoner, barreling over several more like the domino effect and piling at the guards’ feet. A mass fight instantly broke out, fists and blood and swears flying left and right.

“Hey! Break it up! I swear to fucking…” Three guards broke away from the chain and retracted their batons, smashing into heads and vulnerable spots until the grappling weakened. It didn’t seem as if the prisoners were letting up anytime soon. A guard took a skull-rattling punch to the jaw, putting him on his back and buried underneath a trio of criminals. In the midst of the pounding, his weapon was knocked free of his hip holster and--

“Get back!” The sharp whirring of a Blazer. “I-I said get back! I’ll shoot ya! I’ll fry ya! S-swear on my momma I will!” The crazed, gangly prisoner aimed the weapon, trembling violently in his heads. Immediately, the standing guards circled around him and simultaneous raised their own Blazers. It was nearly twenty guns against one, causing the inmate to gulp with rapidly rising fear and desperation. Sweat rolled down his leathery, liver-spotted forehead. “Y-you think I won’t, huh?! I will! I will dammit! I’ll, I’ll--”

A blast discharged from the gun, setting afire the feet of guards and leaving behind a sizzling scorch mark. This seemed to have the effect he wanted, as the soldiers gave him just the tiniest bit of breathing room, but were still barking at him to lower the weapon or else face time in the Cage.

“Screw your cages!!” he screamed, voice raw and brittle. Spittle dribbled past his lips, soaked up by his unkempt salt and pepper goatee. He couldn’t stand it anymore. This prison was hell. Pure hell. He’d rather die yelling, having his voice heard, than die a groveling dog.

Before he could blink, he received a fate unlike anything he predicted.

Bang bang!

The prisoner staggered. A hush settled over the wing. Slowly, eyes hooded, unbearably tired, he looked down at twin blotches of crimson spreading across his chest. Blood seeped from his mouth and with a choked breath, flopped forward dead.

Romana lowered her beloved Browning Hi Power handgun--she could appreciate the efficiency of a Blazer, but she would always prefer the classics. Felt more personal, in a way. “Any further foolishness? No? Wonderful,” she drawled, standing between her guards and effectively bisecting the chain link in two. With a few snaps, she pointed at the body before muttering, “Dispose of it.” The order was answered promptly, the corpse carried away and leaving behind a small pool of blood.

Romana addressed the prisoners in a strangely booming yet bored voice, “The boiler situation will be tended do accordingly by our technicians. Until you are notified for Dinner, all prisoners will forego the remainder of Free Period and file back into their cells. However,” Her eyes roamed the prisoners like sheep fed to the slaughter, “Those interested in participating in this year’s Dog Fights will remain...Now then.”

She untucked a thin vanilla folder from under her arm and flipped it open, gaze resting on the top of the list. A smirk almost pulled at her lips--almost. “It has come to my attention that our little mishap has weeded out a handful of troublemakers. When I call your name, you will step forward and you will be directed to the Cage. Any attempts of fleeing, resisting, or hiding will be met with further punishment. Understood? Delightful.”

Her gun twirled idly between her fingers. Casually. Mechanically. “Inmate #30978 Farhanah Kesse...Inmate #30961 Luca Vargas...Inmate #31845 Bahram John Jones...and Inmate #43767 Wicker Simonova, step forward.” A brief pause, then she finished, “As for Inmate #43768 River Ramirez, Inmate #49570 Malcolm Archer and Inmate #49601 Chiko Grannis. You shall be guided to the Put Down.”

She snapped the folder shut.
 

KatSea

Edgepeasant
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays
Posting Speed
Several Posts a Day
My Usual Online Time
Generally online in the afternoon eastern time
Writing Levels
Give-No-Fucks, Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
More passive but am decently comfortable with leading.
Favorite Genres
Fantasy, mystery, magical, modern,
Genre You DON'T Like
Dystopian, Survival stories,
Malcolm Archer

Her body was limp in his arms, the blood continuing to rush between his fingers long after her death. Archer did not mind the feeling, the sticky, warm substance somewhat of a comfort against his skin. He felt...alive. For the first time since he had met his bride, he felt in control. Lively. Bright. He supposed that he did love her, once, but letting loose of his rage and frustration onto her and the wench's lover...it overcame any visible, human emotion. He knew that it couldn't last, if he continued to desire the freedom of the world around him. He did not take time to mourn, pulling his wife's corpse into his chest and smoothing back her maroon hair, once pale blonde.

"Sorry, Georgie. No hard feelings." He laid her down gently against the stained bed, wrapping the sheets around her haphazardly. He had already taken precautious, making sure that he had plenty of gloves and towels to deal with the mess. After all, Malcolm Archer wanted to continue the high. Prison didn't do him well.

He began to slather her blood against his fingers. Drenching him in it, even as it continued to dry. It didn't matter, there was plenty to go on.

"Now...I mean no disrespect to you good sir. But you no longer exist, and your feelings should not be taken into consideration." He began to pull the remaining sheets around his neck.

Malcolm Archer snapped back into reality the moment he was thrusted into freedom. He felt that the carbon monoxide had taken him to his heaven, and almost desired to stay there. However, Bear Jones had kept the door wide open, Archer's body involuntarily stepping through with the rest of the chaos. He would have thanked Bear Jones and the other man, one who he dared not remember the name of. Archer didn't want to feel connections in this hellhole, knowing very well the only place for connections was for contraband and cigarettes. Some of the lady guards served him well when it came to that, although, he suspected, he wasn't going to get his favorite death sentence anytime soon.

B U M M E R.

Gunshots did not send fear down his spine. No. He smiled. The little shivers of surprise created a form of ecstasy. He did not wish to admit it through his teeth, but he almost felt...well, he'd rather not put it out in detail the excitement he received when there was split blood.

No hard feelings. Love.

“It has come to my attention that our little mishap has weeded out a handful of troublemakers. When I call your name, you will step forward and you will be directed to the Cage. Any attempts of fleeing, resisting, or hiding will be met with further punishment. Understood? Delightful.”

I think you would look good skinned, honey. I wonder what color you bleed. Would you be prettier, in our shoes? Suffocating? Stuck in your own cage? Squirming....squirming...

The names that came forth were not names Archer expected. Slowly, he noted Bear take a step forward without a word of protest. This did take Archer for a small loop, considering that the man did nothing more than save the rest of the inmates. The man who he did not remember was also in trouble, but for what Archer could see through his haze, he was also helping.

Someone has a fetish for watching the pitiful heroes squirm. Much appreciated, broad.

“As for Inmate #43768 River Ramirez, Inmate #49570 Malcolm Archer and Inmate #49601 Chiko Grannis. You shall be guided to the Put Down.”

"What the actual fuck?" Archer voiced, his brow raised. Not so much in fear, but in irritation. As if this was blocking him from his next smoke. "Apologies, miss, but I don't understand. What caused us to be worthy of put down?" A chuckle threatened to escape his lips as he stepped forward, arms crossed. A deep smile remained etched into his lips.

If I am going to be put down, it is going to be something far more commendable than standing around in a group of walking corpses. This woman is out of her fucking mind. But then again...I find that also to be somewhat...

He didn't wish to admit the feelings he had when he was excited. "It is an honor, but I am confused." Archer continued, running the back of his hand against his dried lips. His tongue skimmed across the bottom of his mouth.

"Ma'am, what warrants the death of these children?" Bear spoke, his voice thick with an accent that could have made Archer's body arch. He did not seem scared, and was most ready for his punishment in the cage. No questions ask. No, his concern was for the children.

How fucking sweet, you pack of meat.

"Not all of us are children..."

"Hush." Bear asked quietly, smoothing back his hair from his face. His brow was etched in concern. Archer realized he did not care if his punishment was to grow more severe. Those kids seemed to mean more to him. How gross. If Archer would have looked up, he would have noticed a woman with pale blonde hair threatening to open her mouth in protest. Bear took care of that, pressing a finger to his lips and shaking his head.

Heh. She looks....I think she'd look better with red blood hair, now that I think about it.

Archer still saw no reason, in his hollow heart, to be put down. The fun would end, after all, and that's not something Malcolm Archer planned.

Then why do I still feel...heh. That word is not suitable is it. E x c i t e d?
 
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Mobley Eats

Consume. Smother your doubts. Be fulfilled.
Original poster
DONATING MEMBER
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Primarily Prefer Female, No Preferences
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
A bit of both, lean more towards passive.
Favorite Genres
Modern, Romance, Fantasy, Scifi, Drama, Action.
Genre You DON'T Like
Horror, Mystery (I like them, just not good at it)

Amit Yedidya | Location: South Wing| Interactions: Pan Elle Joyner Elle Joyner & Romana Bellamy

Amit crumbled under the sudden weight, his body meeting metal. He hated this woman. He hated Pan so fucking much.

"It's Amat. A frickin' door mat," she said.

His fingers curled into fists, trembling. He. Was not. A mat. He was a human being. With a brain and intellect unlike anything she could ever hope to achieve. He was a genius. A survivor of the noblest cause that filthy super-sized country had ever seen.

"Cause that's what you're gonna be in a minute, soon as these fine folks figure out you're the idiot who decided to get fancy with the fireworks."

He wasn't an idiot. He was a fucking biological genius! "I'm not...an idiot," he hissed, teeth gnashing. He wanted to lash out, to crush this vermin's skull under his shoe and leave the mess behind for everyone to see. He wanted to fight back, defend his stance, but he knew better. This woman could pulverize him, inside and out. Thus, even with the shame and nausea stirring up a storm in his gut, he didn't dare move until she removed her foot and the sound of the door opening reached their ears. Fuck--they escaped. Those small-minded, ignorant pigs escaped! Smashing a fist to the floor (and instantly regretting it as pain flared through his knuckles), he scrambled to his feet and fled to the South Wing, as far away from Pan as possible--

"Goddamn, that was scary!"

He knew that voice.

All it took was a quick glance back but, even then, Amit didn't need to. That annoying energy was impossible to mimic, especially for a prisoner sentenced to the life of a rabid dog cooped up in a cold cage. It was Chiko. It was fucking Chiko. Sprinting through the doors...She was in there. Of course, he didn't know that. Why the fuck would he worry about every single face inside that gassing chamber of death? He hadn't worried about that. Assumed everyone inside deserved a proper, horrific ending brought on by his own hands...

Fuck.

Jaw clenching, he looked ahead. And kept running.



"What is this..." Amit whispered, vomit threatening to crawl up the back of his throat as he inspected the slop before him. His lunch was composed of some...beige mush with chunks of...span? Spam? Was that what the Americans called their chump meat? He hated this ship's toxic foreign menu.

"Dude, I've been asking the same damn thing!"

Amit jumped when a tray suddenly slammed down on the table across from him. A small woman--no, a fucking kid plopped down before him, all shiny doe eyes and an aura so overwhelming that he wanted to flee immediately. Before he could protest and shoo her off, she scooped up a spoonful of the same mystery food and let it fall back to her tray while sticking her tongue out. "Yuck! Am I right?? It's like, dude, we're getting punished up here, not getting dead! Err, get dead? Getting killed? Frick, how do English again?" she chuckled, dropping the spoon altogether and focusing on Amit.

The eye contact was downright unnerving.

Sucking in a slow breath, Amit whispered, "Go away..."

"Neeeeope," she hummed, nose scrunching up with a grin. "Dude, I've been here 16 days and you know what my eyeballs have been telling me all that time?"

Amit stared, unimpressed.

She smacked the table. "Exactly! That your lonely little butt always sits in the corner all...alone! God, I'm so not redundant at all, whaaaat."

"What, indeed," he muttered bitterly.

"Hey, I got a double what! Like...what?"

"W...what?"

"Chicken butt! Pffft!" The girl looked like she was going to explode from holding in laughter, though Amit had no goddamn idea where the joke was. What was so amusing about a chicken's ass? It was feathery... He didn't get it, at all, and that agitated him. He usually knew most things, prided himself in understanding double-meanings and hidden codes, but this babbling bitch...she was too much for him. She was almost as troublesome as Pan. Almost.

Several taps to the table snapped him from his thoughts. "Oiiii, anybody hooome?" The girl straightened up as Amit looked at her, well, glared at her. Either way, her smile didn't plan of fading anytime soon. "Anyways, I digress from the beauty of chicken butt--for now. What even is your name bro? And why the hell you keep ostracizing yourself? Did ya like, commit murder to get into here?"

This child...had no danger sense. Whatsoever. Hoping that the horrid taste and texture would block out at least some of her hyper personality, Amit shoved a bite of the slop into his mouth and allowed himself a few seconds of saddened taste buds to mull over how to deal with this girl. Swallowing, he muttered, "Amit..." his eyes hardened, "Terrorism."

A stifling silence.

"Oh..."

Amit huffed, expecting the reaction. Yes, yes, he knew this routine by now. Stare and gape in horror. Let the realization sink in. Flee. Stay and shout in his face. Curse his lineage. His cause. Declare his death and downfall by "proud American hands"--

"Welp, that's some intense shit. How the hell do you guys, like, figure out who wears the bomb? Draw straws or...?"

Amit blinked. Rapidly. Pure confusion colored him from head to toe and for the first time in years, his eyes widened with something other than rage or annoyance. He...didn't know what to say.

However, he didn't need to say anything. Another woman stormed up to the table and immediately seized the girl by the ear. "Chiko! What have I you told??" She cut a warning glare at Amit, who answered back with a sneer and roll of the eyes. He knew Hana, well, knew of the self-proclaimed Mother Hen of Hagur. Figures she would adopt yet another Pup. Hana forced Chiko up, who hopped up with her tray quickly, squinting from the stinging pain in her ear.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow--what did I do??"

"You know to not trading of words with that terror..." As Hana ranted and raved, she dragged the girl away and over to their own lunch table, leaving Amit alone once more.

He looked at his lunch. Then at the spot that was once occupied by Chiko.

"Chi...ko," he muttered, brow furrowed.



“As for Inmate #43768 River Ramirez..."

Amit snapped back to the present.

"...Inmate #49570 Malcolm Archer and Inmate #49601 Chiko Grannis. You shall be guided to the Put Down.”

Wait...what? Put Down? Fuck...Fuck. That didn't make any sense, none whatsoever. In all honesty, Amit almost expected his name to be called, for multiple reasons. He had acted out of emotion, he could admit this with bitter bile on the back of his tongue. He was angered, threatened, and seized that Blazer before his mind could catch up with reality. A...not so intelligent move for his genius stature.

There were protests already. One from some...bored-sounding inmate. He seemed far too composed for finding out that he was about to be Put Down. However, the reaction that he did take in was...

"D-dude...what? W-what did I...?" Chiko tried to slap on an expression of anger, but the violent shaking in her legs spoke volumes. Fear. Crippling fear and shock. Fuck.

That was all Amit could think--fuck. His big brain, the one thing about himself that earned the worth of his existence...had stopped functioning. No more thinking. None. He couldn't do it. He couldn't. It wasn't working. Stopping. Stopped.

He wasn't thinking, nowhere near enough to keep his arm still. No way to stop it from raising overhead. No way to shut his fucking mouth before uttering, "I...do not...a-accept this."

Fuck.
 
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Elle Joyner

I guess...
Roleplay Invitations
Not Taking RP Invites at this Time
Posting Speed
Several Posts a Day
My Usual Online Time
8:00 AM - 4:00 PM
Writing Levels
Prestige
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Primarily Prefer Female
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Probably a mix. When I GM I tend to prefer mostly aggressive, but with input from my players. I like to offer ideas and receive them. I don't like when people just take the reins and run with it though...especially in a 1x1.
Favorite Genres
Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
Genre You DON'T Like
Anime. Ever. Just not my jam.

Smut. Romance as a main plot. Horror. Grimdark.
________PANDORA_________________________________________________

Amit squirmed away when she lifted her foot and she considered grabbing him by the scruff... forcing him to see what he'd done, what he'd wrought. But there was no point. She wasn't a bounty hunter, here... She was one of them, and she had to get used to that eventually. It was disappointing, though - she'd meant that... She had, for a time, quite enjoyed Amit's energy and odd charisma... but while she was a lot of things, and no prude to put it mildly, she had her limits.

Amit had crossed a line, and she wasn't sure it was on she was going to be able to overlook, any time soon. He took off and she let him, turning to Abe with a shake of her head, "Get desperate enough, I guess... You stop being a person in here." She muttered, half to herself. There was a sudden commotion, however, and her train of thought derailed as suddenly, more blazer-fire filled the tiny space. Swearing, she looked in the direction that Amit had run, only to see he'd stopped.

Shots rang out, then... real, genuine shots - a handgun, by the sounds of it. She might've appreciated the use of the old classics, if she wasn't so disgusted by what she could see through the sea of bodies in front of her. Romana. The cold hearted bitch... and it seemed she wasn't done. She started calling names out of the crowd and Pandora could feel her chest tightening...

Swearing, she shook her head, "Kids... They're kids..."


________LUCA_________________________________________________

Rubbing his shoulder, Luca stared forward as the chaos devolved further. Another inmate went down in a hail of gunfire, and Luca could only grimace at the sight. Some people carved their own fate, and there was just nothing to be done about it. The psychotic harpy that was their warden stepped forward to address them, and Luca was almost surprised to hear his name called out among those who would be tossed in the cage.

It wouldn't be his first visit - not by a long shot, and he wasn't altogether alarmed that the others had been singled out, either. Hana, for as much as it bothered him to hear her called, was a tough woman, and she would be strong... He'd have taken double-sessions if he thought it would get her out of it, but he knew better than to try and negotiate with the mad woman that was Romana. But then she went on and Luca felt heat rise up from his stomach, his cheeks flooding as anger filled him.

"No!" He growled, and without much thought, he stepped forward, "They didn't do anything! Hell no!"

To his left, Wicker... one of the few called for the cage had begun to hum something that sounded like Ride of the Valkyries, a smile on her eerily calm face.
 

KatSea

Edgepeasant
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays
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Several Posts a Day
My Usual Online Time
Generally online in the afternoon eastern time
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Give-No-Fucks, Adaptable
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Male, Female
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
More passive but am decently comfortable with leading.
Favorite Genres
Fantasy, mystery, magical, modern,
Genre You DON'T Like
Dystopian, Survival stories,
Chloe Conrad



The Goliath was glancing over at the young teen again. She had only been in the facility for a year now, the names and faces of those who surrounded her nothing but blurs and sounds. Goliath, however, appeared to be an exception, his attention placed mainly on the younger inmates. Chloe knew how many of them were so young. It upset her, greatly, knowing that children her age were being thrown into prison for crimes much less heinous than her own. She heard some cases of grand theft, some of abduction, some of assault and drug possession. An occasional murderer. An occasional pedophile. Yet there were so many of her age, and it sent chills down her back.

She knew to stay away from the men. They knew to stay away from her, for word of a mutilating maniac something not too comforting for the creepy prisoners that lurked. They were lonely, violent, but weren't crazy enough. At least, she figured they wouldn't be. Goliath proved to be the exception as Chloe made her way to the courtyard, the young woman's shoulders tensing as heard gentle words spoken from behind.

"Miss?" She swiveled abruptly on her heel, her heart threatening to break her ribs. Goliath towered her by nearly a foot, his gentle eyes inspecting her from her toes to her face. There was a brief smile on his face as he lifted his hand, clenched in a fist. Chloe threatened to take at least fifteen steps back, her breath catching in her throat. The man's fingers unfurled to reveal a crocheted lamb, one of Chloe's first art projects at the prison. She generally kept them in her cell, but she recalled now that she had lost track of a few from her time scavenging through the prison. "I believe this is yours." He hovered his hand over, gesturing for her to take the gift. Slowly, Chloe offered her hand and felt the soft thud of her creation land into her palm. "I think you dropped it, I've been trying to get it back to you, lass, for at least a week now. I just wasn't sure how to approach ya."

Chloe's head threatened to tilt, gently clasping her hands around the lamb. The man's accent was thicker than she was used to, and it took a long time to fully interpret what had been spoken.

"T-t-thanks." Chloe stammered, her throat clamping up as Goliath examined her. A gentle smile grew at his lips.

"So what are you in for, Goldielocks?"

"H-h-h-homicide." She muttered, taking a step back as she cradled her hands to her chest. The man blinked, surprise flooding his eyes as if a damn had broken apart.

"Huh. I was hoping you were going to say something along the lines of grand theft auto, or pirating of broadway musicals." The man spoke softly, teasingly. He seemed to be a lot more cautious than before, watching Chloe glance down at her creation.

"I-I-I mean...I-I-I a-a-am a s-s-sucker f-f-for N-Newsises..." She stuttered anxiously. The man scoffed, shaking his head.

"I take you more as a Les Miserables sort of lass. No matter. You are Clo, yes?" The man questioned, grinning. "I've heard that ya have the jaw strength to chomp off a man's head, or at least that's the word around here. Although, I don't really believe it. Bahram is my name."

"Bah?" She questioned, for once without a stutter. She stared down at her lamb, suddenly bursting into giggles. "That...that is almost too fitting, Goliath?"

"You are quite a David, lass."

---

"Oi, Davie, you got quite a grip on you. Let loose, would you?" Bahram's face pinched as the young lady pulled at his hair. Chloe was focused heavily upon making the man's hair as perfect as possible while she still had time in the courtyard. She held a crocheted flower in her mouth, her brow twisted in focus.

"S-shut i-i-it. A-a-almost..." Braiding the man's long hair proved to be somewhat of a challenge, but Chloe learned to love it. She bit at her lip as she tightly secured the braid, surprised that three weeks of awkward conversation and finally trust, she could braid his hair with the best of them.

"Davie you pull too hard." Bahram mumbled in complaint, although nodded his thanks as they finished. Chloe finished it off, placing the crocheted flower at the bottom.

"B-but y-you are p-p-pretty now..." Chloe protested, the large man reaching his hand over her head to pat her hair gently.

"Wasn't I always?"

---

Chloe didn't know which way was up. The names spoken from Romana's mouth sent ice into her veins. She watched her friends, Luca, Bahram, Chiko, River, Hana...all of them. All of them were punished for something that was meant to save other people's lives. Or nothing at all. Hearing the protests, she began to open her mouth.

Bahram raised his hand to his mouth in indication to silence, which Chloe did so, her legs trembling from beneath her. A part of her was grateful that she was not in the list. A part of her wished she could step in and take one of the children's place.

"Luca is correct." Bahram claimed, taking another step forward, his voice calm, reasonable. "Chiko did nothing while I was with her in there. Nothing. We won't stand for this."

"Have you ever considered...they killing us because they like to see us squirm?" A faint voice questioned, followed by a chuckle. Chloe knew it was someone a bit new, but she hadn't bothered to learn his name. His gaze scared her too much for her to remain focused for long. "Killing the pups means wounding the hounds~"

"Y-you c-c-c-cant..." Chloe finally stammered, attempting to keep a strong demeanor but failing. Bahram's eyes met hers and he shook his head rapidly.

She knew what it meant, but she didn't want to stand there and say nothing. She had never made her way to the cage, she always did what she was told, but she figured a punishment for saving children's lives would be worth while. Softly, she began to repeat. "Y-you c-c-can't. Y-y-you c-c-can't..."
 
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CloudyBlueDay

consistently inconsistent
Roleplay Invitations
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I check as often as I can.
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Intermediate, Adept, Advanced, Adaptable
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Male, Female, No Preferences
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Both.
Favorite Genres
Fantasy, Realistic/Modern, Magic, Scifi, Romance
Genre You DON'T Like
I am generally not a huge fan of RPing Fandom, but it can depend.
A guttural laugh erupted from Abe at the sight of Amit being tripped by Pan. This was, admittedly, one of the most exciting things to happen to him here on Hagur in the past ten years. Amit throwing a temper tantrum and blowing up the control panel was, for some reason, extremely amusing to Abe.

"It's Amat. A frickin' door mat,"

Abraham snorted. Ah, Pan. Watching Amit scurry away after barely mumbling in protest, Abraham wondered how the guy had even landed in Hagur, despite being such a damn wimp. The rest of the walk allowed him to regain his breath, but soon enough, the chaos was silenced with the sound of two classic shots.

Bang bang.

A hand went to his stomach, where Abraham himself had been shot ten years ago. For a moment, he could almost feel the phantom pain as he watched the poor old sap fall to the ground, his blood pooling around him, becoming the blanket to his death bed. But it was them and not him, as Abraham always ensured it was. So he cleared his throat and watched, hands twitched awkwardly at his side, chin jolting up.

The shots sent fear deep down into River's core. He found himself nestled close to Hana, trying to hide himself in her comforting aura. A glassy-eyed look came over River. His heart had already tightened at hearing Hana and Luca be sentenced to the cage, but at hearing his own name for a fate he had come to understand in these two weeks was the worst of them all, he was totally silent. Chiko beside him sputtered in disbelief, but River was still as a frozen lake. He'd heard, vaguely, of the Put Down... and he imagined it was quite literal.

"Suerte..." River murmured, reaching out to Luca. His hands trembled. So this was it. Frankly... he was surprised he'd made it this long. He didn't even know why... but did it even matter? Romana wanted someone to kill. Someone to make an example of. If he was to die... at least, at least Hana and Luca were to live. Tears welled in his eyes. Why Chiko? Why him?

The kindness he had experienced in this place had been unlike any other in his life. Hana had been more a mother to him than his own. Luca more of a brother. Perhaps it was all he deserved. Maybe it was just enough to give him a beloved farewell.

"Don't make it worse for yourself... por favor. Please. Te lo ruego." River looked around at the people that surrounded him, with begging eyes. He couldn't allow someone to earn further punishment for a fate that was already sealed.

Abraham glanced warily at the three who were sentenced to death. Archer, he knew, was certainly more deserving of the fate than the other two shrimpy lookin' kids. "Damn shame," Abraham drawled, perhaps a little less worried than Pan. Romana needed someone to snap at. Better them than him, he always reasoned. Abraham clicked his tongue, trying to put on a look of sympathy to match Pan's. She seemed unsettled by this, which shocked him more than anything. He shifted awkwardly on his feet, watching River throw himself onto Hana for a tearful goodbye hug. Jeez. Some real criminals in here.
 

Mobley Eats

Consume. Smother your doubts. Be fulfilled.
Original poster
DONATING MEMBER
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A bit of both, lean more towards passive.
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Modern, Romance, Fantasy, Scifi, Drama, Action.
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Horror, Mystery (I like them, just not good at it)
Romana Bellamy | Interactions: Inmates KatSea KatSea , CloudyBlueDay CloudyBlueDay , Elle Joyner Elle Joyner | Location: South Wing


Ah yes...the protests. Romana expected as much; dogs nowadays were such a pain to domesticate. She honestly felt like she wouldn't be able to Cage and Put Down the wastes of space fast enough. She snapped the folder shut, her eyes taking up the same action as she centered herself. Patience was key. Always key.


"Kids... They're kids..."

"Kids." Romana's gaze snapped open, zeroing in on Pandora. The troublesome slut among the batch but, she figured she couldn't blame a bitch for sticking true to what she really was. It was just rather disconcerting to see a dog in heat for such extensive periods. There was no telling how many STDs were lurking in the prisoner pool, tainting prospective tributes. Romana folded her hands before her, eyeing the prisoner with amusement. "Not a single inmate is considered human once they step foot on the Hagur, Pan deary. Let alone a child. They have all earned their punishments."

"No!" ...And now the wannabe hero had an opinion to share. So much lashing out against the master of the house. But, then again, this one had always been rebellious, impossible to train, no matter what kind of bone was chucked his way. Romana was almost tempted to add him to the Put Down list. Almost. Immediately, two guards slammed their shields together in front of Luca, blocking him from nearing Romana.

"Au contraire," the Warden muttered, jutting a finely sharpened nail in Chiko, River, and Archer's direction. "The loud Pup has been caught on our cameras committing several shipment breaches, possessing peculiar...items. Ones that are not allowed on my ship."

Chiko paled upon hearing this, but still couldn't find her voice. She looked back at the others, pure "help me" flashing in her wide eyes.

Christ. That little crackhead was such a runt. At least she had finally stopped talking for once.

Then, Romana's finger swerved over to River, a ghost of a smirk pulling at her lips. "River Ramirez? Consider this an act of mercy on my part. You were bound to die the moment I've heard about you. We shall leave it at that. Oh, and Malcolm? Put simply--you bore me. You're not the first bucket of serial killer vampire angst to enter Hagur nor will you be the last to die here. It's a common matter of clean up duty."

There were further protests. Further interruptions. Further insolence and false confidence. Romana wondered why these inmates figured they had any right to go against her orders. She could put a bullet through each one of them, leave it at that, but then again, she couldn't. That'd be unwise. She snapped back to reality upon hearing sobs, pained cries from a woman that never failed to make the Warden's eyes roll.

Farhanah. Cradling Chiko and River, tears running down her face as she held on for dear life. "I will not the let you take them!" she yelled, backing away with the Pups. She shoved both of them behind her, turning to Pandor and rushing out, "Stay the in front of them! We will not move. We will not."

"Oh dear..." Romana hummed, folder tapping against her chin. Her trigger finger itched. "What a delightful conundrum. So much outrage. So many rabid dogs on my ship...What to do about this?" She pretended to weigh her options.

Then she smirked. "Guards? Round them up. The Caged, the Put Down, the protesters--all of them. Straight line now. Straight line." Quickly, the guards withdrew their Blazers and jammed them into the prisoners' backs, barking and forcing them to congeal into a line, Romana at the start of it as she whispered into the ear of a guard. He nodded before passing the command onto another, who disappeared swiftly down the hall.

A minute. Only a minute, perhaps less, and he was back with a handheld device in his possession. It had an almost cellular shape to it with a touchscreen mapped out with shifting grid lines. "Obliged," Romana said, taking the device while also retracting her gun. "One at a time now." She presented the screen. "A press of the thumb is all I need from you. After that...you're free to go. No hard feelings, right? No Cage, no Put Down...nothing. I can be a generous Warden if you're willing to redeem yourselves and show some proper cooperation. If I don't receive full cooperation? Well..."

She shrugged.

"You're well aware of the consequences."
 
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