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Thread: End of Days IC

  1. - Top - End - #1
    Orc in the Playground
     
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    wink End of Days IC

    "The Last Tomorrow"

    Spring took some time off that day
    So did the birds and their song
    And a realistic winter, for a time, held their place
    And the sun dropped low as the shadows grew long

    Leaves from the trees, they harkened unto me
    Then withered as they fell to the ground
    A witness, each one with it's story to tell
    They galliantly floated, each one to their end,
    softly and without a sound.

    The silence, it tore through the fabric of time
    Endlessly stretching out for eternity
    Yet somehow, while weaving through the circuits and lines
    Morbidly falling short of some thing called serenity.

    Worlds, introduced with surgical grace
    In an hour that "NEVER" would catch up with time
    And I was presented with a glimpse of the end
    And surely, on that day I knew it were mine

    The earth, it shook as the fires raged higher
    While the heavens reigned upon the earth
    Death was appointed unto every land
    As mother nature surmised her rebirth

    Nightfall choked the starlight
    Nor twinkling twill of the angel's scope
    Off on the horizon, under silver moonlight
    The desolate glimpse of a dying world's hope

    The wind, it spake to the mountains
    It hissed, it howled and growned
    From the altars, all through the fountains
    It cried and whistled and moaned

    Indescribable amounts of the people
    Whom the ocean did rise up to meet
    Careless, they wait for the diggers
    Lying about like dung in the streets

    And war upon war, they kept raging
    Each man, a gun in his hand
    'Till the bullets that rained on the nations
    Now equaled the grains of the sand

    And I, with the task of recorder
    With a glimpse of the last light and doom
    In words, I now bring before you
    What inevitably must come soon.......

    ---------------------------------------

    What this End of Days Campaign is all about

    It's about the lives of relatively ordinary people
    surviving in the wake of an Earth Shattering apocalypse.

    The world will be dangerous, Earth has changed since
    you last set foot above ground. Humanity has fallen to
    the lowest it's ever been.

    It's left to a few individuals such as yourselves to keep
    the flame of hope going. To inspire and remind people not
    only what life was like, but what life could be like again.

    I can't promise you your characters will survive in the new
    world, but what I do know is that your actions will shape
    a new society, so that humankind may live on, even if you
    don't...
    Last edited by SgtParish; 2013-02-07 at 01:14 PM.
    ~T

  2. - Top - End - #2
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    End of Days

    Chapter One, Refuge



    August 26th, 2028. South Colorado, USA

    Thirty-Five feet above Bunker CC-7900,

    A warm summer breeze blows through the trees,
    rustling the leaves and creating small dust clouds,
    all beneath a hazy orange sky, without a cloud in sight.
    The only thing disturbing the scene is a large black
    dot about a quarter the size of the moon, it sits heavy
    in the sky, a countdown until apocalypse.

    Had it of been a year earlier, Samuel Brown would've
    been back in Denver, enjoying the late afternoon
    warmth with his wife and fourteen year old twin
    daughters. They would be sat on the balcony after
    a fine meal, relaxing with a bottle of white wine,
    just making the most of the days before Jessica
    and Emma started school again. He would be
    taking on new business clients for Christmas
    time and Sandra his Wife would be always beside
    him, his ever faithful partner and accountant.

    It was not however a year earlier, and Samuel was in
    fact stood at the entrance to CC-7900, deep in argument
    with an angry man. He had taken the job as a ticket warden
    to give his family a safe place to hide from the incoming
    Asteroid, it was the only chance of safety he could afford.
    But doubt was already starting to spread across his mind,
    perhaps, he thought he should have sold his house and
    car to raise enough money to get in a B3 A.P.B over in
    New York, then at least he wouldn't have to stand
    outside and get shouted at by morons.

    Samuel looked back at the short angry man, still arguing with him.


    "... I know I don't have a ticket, but you've got plenty of space,
    I'm just asking for one bed, that's all."



    "Sir, you know the laws as well as I do, no entry without a ticket,
    we haven't got the supplies to feed ourselves let alone any
    random people off the streets, I'm sure you could find a bed
    down at the M.C.B in Boise City, it's just about half an hour
    along the 287."


    The short man just grunts as he turns back to his car.

    "Fat chance, I have of getting in there..."

    "It's better than the one you have getting in here." Samuel calls after him.

    "Moron" Samuel said, quietly enough so the angry man wouldn't hear him.

    The car door slams and he drives off with speed, leaving a trail of dust in his wake.

    ***

    A few moments later after the dust kicked up by the angry man's car had settled,
    Samuel thought he saw a few figures approaching from the West.

    They defiantly weren't dressed like business men, no-way would they be able to afford
    tickets to the bunker. Samuel's fingers reassuringly tapped his holstered revolver.

    Hey, guys, I'm sorry but unless you've got a ticket, I can't allow you in...

    (Floors Open to you Guys)
    Last edited by SgtParish; 2013-02-01 at 04:47 PM.
    ~T

  3. - Top - End - #3
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    Finn

    Finn approaches the bunker entrance. To his trained eye, it's easy to see the the guard is a bit on edge - but who isn't these days. Finn is careful not to make any sudden moves as he produces his drivers' license and his dearly bought entry ticket from the pocket of his military surplus N3B parka. It was a bit warm to be wearing the parka right now, but the bunker information pamphlet had stressed how important it was not to bring too much luggage, and he didn't want to risk the guard telling him his backpack was too full.

    "Hello Sir - I'm Dr. Finn McCullough. I know we've still got a little time until H-hour, and maybe I should be relishing my last bit of fresh air for a while, but I'd rather not be out on the streets when people get desperate. Would you mind if I go ahead and get settled down inside?"

    Finn surprised himself with how calm his voice was. It's not every day a man descends into a hole in the ground with a bunch of strangers for an indeterminate amount of time, with no idea what the world will be like when he emerges again. But it was just as well that he had no wife or girlfriend, and his only relatives were cousins he hadn't seen in years, back in Ireland.
    Thanks to Daryk for the Paladin avatar. Darius Sungold. 1648 OOC.

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    Samuel eyes Finn suspiciously, looks at the ID and then back at Finn.

    "You don't look much like any Doctor I've ever seen, but I suppose I don't much look like a business man these days..."

    Samuel gestures to his casual clothing, a faded T-shirt and slightly ripped jeans.

    Samuel then goes to scan Finn's ticket with a small electronic device resembling a hair dryer. It makes a loud beep and then flashes green.

    "Your ticket checks out, Doctor. Head on inside, my wife will show you to your room."

    With a loud clanking a large metallic hatch opens revealing a dark ladder down into the Earth.

    As you descend into darkness...
    ~T

  5. - Top - End - #5
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    Ark walks forward with his backpack slung over one shoulder, his head forlornly focused on the bunker. Trying to remain optimistic about the fact he was heading into a confined area in the ground for a uncertain amount of time.

    Ark shuddered.

    He scratched his rough beard and hoped that his closest friend, John would be okay. He's resourceful, I'm sure he'll be fine... He thought. Even though, it still niggled at the back of his mind...

    He approached the guard and reached into his worn leather jacket, taking out a small ticket to the bunker. The jacket creaked and groaned with the movement.

    Hey, Ark Saul checkin' in. He looked around the entrance again. How long have you been standin' there?

  6. - Top - End - #6
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    Quote Originally Posted by lordchimp View Post
    Ark walks forward with his backpack slung over one shoulder, his head forlornly focused on the bunker. Trying to remain optimistic about the fact he was heading into a confined area in the ground for a uncertain amount of time.

    Ark shuddered.

    He scratched his rough beard and hoped that his closest friend, John would be okay. He's resourceful, I'm sure he'll be fine... He thought. Even though, it still niggled at the back of his mind...

    He approached the guard and reached into his worn leather jacket, taking out a small ticket to the bunker. The jacket creaked and groaned with the movement.

    Hey, Ark Saul checkin' in. He looked around the entrance again. How long have you been standin' there?
    Samuel nodds as the scanner beeps and flashes green,

    "I'm out here during daylight hours, just in case anyone turns up, we've got video feeds so we can see who's up here, but to be honest... We're going to be in that hole for a while, I'd like to get as much fresh air as I can, while I can."

    Samuel takes a deep breath, and sighs.

    "If you want to follow the Doctor down the ladder, not many people have arrived yet, so at least you get a choice of beds."

    Samuel chuckles at his own joke even if Ark doesn't.
    Last edited by SgtParish; 2013-01-27 at 02:25 PM.
    ~T

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    Maxwell didn't wear his helmet on the two hour drive to the bunker today. Who knew when he'd feel the wind again on his face, instead of stale, recycled air. He'd almost not gone. The idea of crawling into a hidey-hole sickened him, felt cowardly. Maxwell was a fighter. But the alternative was worse. Maxwell didn't fear dying, but he hated the idea of laying down and letting some big piece of rock take him down.

    He thought back to the fight. The big one. Winner take all. And "all" in this case meant a highly coveted ticket to this underground bunker. Maxwell had almost turned the fight down when his manager called. Almost thrown the fight. But Maxwell had never backed down from a fight in his life, and had never thrown a fight.

    So he'd fought, and he'd won. And here he was, parking is bike in a large field. He got in line, and forced a smile when he reached the ticket warden. "Maxwell Stark." he says by way of greeting.
    O! For a muse of Fire!

    Maxwell Stark

  8. - Top - End - #8
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    "And that concludes our final broadcast. Stay safe, true believers, and I'll catchya on the Other Side!"

    Marcus published the video log on his site, shut down his computer, and pushed himself back from the desk. He could see his own reflection in the unpowered monitor, still new to him and not altogether symmetrical - but not really ugly either. There'd been reports of this sort of thing happening recently of course, and he hadn't heard any horror stories yet about people waking up as Jello-O or anything like that, but it's just one of those things he never expected to happen to him.

    It rocked.

    During the night - and well into the afternoon - he dreamt of change. The asteroid, Ender, appeared overhead as a giant egg in the sky and when it landed he felt the shockwave of the blast move through his body on a genetic level. The landscape around him lay charred or burned, twisted metal girders lay exposed from concrete husks of gutted buildings, jutting out like harsh flora in some desert wasteland. Vast dark clouds blotted out the sun, the only light coming from countless automobiles in varying stages of combustion throughout the streets of Boston, his hometown. Approaching in the distance was a tsunami that dwarfed the skyline of the city - and probably any city on Earth. Marcus found he couldn't run, or even turn away, but neither was he afraid. While he knew he should be terrified, he couldn't resist an overwhelming calm - an acceptance of things that must be.

    The wall of water touched the sky and washed over Marcus, through him, and the sight transitioned to something more organic - instead of pavement and concrete and flames, he saw a landscape of trees and lush undergrowth. He was standing in some sort of marsh where the shapes could vaguely be identified as having once been man-made structures, some were even still visible beneath the thick plant cover, but had long ago been taken back by Mother Nature. It felt right. It felt like home.

    Marcus woke up at 1pm that afternoon after having slept for a solid fifteen hours. It took a further fifteen minutes for him to open his eyes as he went through the process of deliberately recalling his dream to record it in his journal later. He dreamt often but never before as vividly as this. He slowly became aware of a prickling sensation in his skin like he was sleeping on a matress filled with gravel and number two pencils. Marcus sat up to investigate and quickly spotted the source of the discomfort - his body was covered in green scales and spine-like growths. There are very few things about Marcus Okin that one would consider "normal" but in this instance he acted like any other rational human would: he completely freaked out for about half an hour.

    When he finally calmed down, Marcus began to consider the long-term implications of what being a lizard man could mean. Most of humanity would be meeting their certain death in a few days - what did it matter what he looked like? Realistically, he could emerge from his bunker and never meet another living human being. That's when his attitude really started to change. He recorded his dream while it was still fresh in his mind, which was only marginally difficult with the spines on his arm being sharp but relatively pliable. He then began filming the last video log for his website, sharing his dream and transformation and encouraging any who might have similar experiences in the future. He left on an upbeat note, knowing that there was still a large portion of his followers that couldn't afford a spot in a survival bunker. If it hadn't been for them, he wouldn't have a ticket either - it was because of their participation in his commissions work that he had a flight that evening for Colorado. Survival wasn't guaranteed for anyone but some locations sure seemed to have better odds.

    He stood up from his chair and moved to the dresser, choosing his wardrobe carefully: some jeans, white socks and tee, and dark grey long-sleeved jersey. Marcus slipped his scaly feet into some vintage red Converse and reflected that while the spines covering much of his body - larger around the joints, he noted - were sharp they did seem to bend in, not unlike some fish. Getting dressed wasn't as difficult as he would have thought and the clothes survived the process pretty well. He wore his clothes loose anyway and the additional bagginess now actually came in handy. He then pulled on a very special item indeed - a Superman hoodie once worn by Christopher Reeves' grandson during production of Superman Reborn, the smash hit of 2020 using the latest in three-dimensional viewing technologies. The hoodie itself is present for a full ten frames in the film as the camera pans up across a crowded street. If Marcus could've brought only one article of clothing into the post-apocalypse, this was it. His rugged black backpack was already pretty much packed and ready to go, his lucky sleeping bag tied to its bottom securely with his baseball bat tucked inbetween. He opened the bag anyway and threw in a couple last minute items anyway: his hacky sack, his Kindle Reader 5.0 - with just about every known comic, graphic novel, and science fiction work - his Rubik's Cube, and a few packages of M&M candies. One last check on his comic collection, which he had tried to secure in airtight tubs as much as possible, just in case, and a wave to his pet neo-iguana Arnold, and Marcus turned from his little twentieth-story city apartment for what he hoped wouldn't be the last time.

    "Sorry I can't take you with me, but I'm sure you'll find plenty of cockroaches to munch on buddy. They're more likely to make it than either of us!"

    The cab to the airport was fairly uneventful, as was the flight in general. There were stares for sure, Marcus' yellow eyes and reptilian look still apparent on his hands and face, but most folks were just worried about how to spend their last hours on Earth. He took another cab to Bunker CC-7900 and tipped the driver generously. As he strode across to meet the security officer, Marcus began to wonder at what the next few days would bring and just how accurate his dream may have been. He pocketed his package of M&M's for the moment.

    "Greetings, Ferryman, here be my coin!" he says, cheerfully presenting his ticket. He adjust the straps on his pack a final time while the ticket is checked, preparing for his descent into the bunker - and an uncertain future.

    Spoiler
    Show
    Marcus' sheet has been updated with guesstimates on weight for those last minute items and the mutations added. I hope that all jives with you, GM, because I only spend two and a half hours on my weekend posts. They'll be shorter for a while I think. Maybe. I promise nothing!
    Last edited by BWS2K; 2013-02-02 at 11:04 AM. Reason: Fixing a typo.
    Marcus Okin, End of Days
    [MHRPG] Breakout: IC OOC
    [Toypocalypse] Some Assembly Required IC OOC
    MHRPG Cyclops

  9. - Top - End - #9
    Barbarian in the Playground
     
    SwashbucklerGuy

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    Jake walked down the road. This wasn't a good time for Jake. Already most had moved into the bunkers. Jake himself wasn't one to go with the trends, though. While most smoked cigarettes in the trenches moors, he took pills to keep the munchies away. While the others watched movies on break, he played chess on the internet. Jake knew he would die when Ender hit if he wasn't in a bunker, though. Dying was another trend Jake didn't want to follow.

    Jake inhaled the fresh air in deep breaths through his nostrils. He jogged along the road, noting the lack of automobiles as he neared the bunker. Most had probably left for their last drink or something. If I couldn't get a ticket, I'd fight my way in, Jake thought to himself. He punched himself in the gut and flt his armor. Good thing he still wore his vest. When everything goes Mad Max, I'll be the one laughing. The moors taught me that. United States ArmyMoor-Dwellers.

    Jake walked up to the man handling the tickets and produced his dog tag and his US Government-issued ticket.

    "Hello sir. Is this sufficient? In addition, do you possess the training and license to carry a firearm?"

  10. - Top - End - #10
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    Quote Originally Posted by Mordaenor View Post
    Maxwell didn't wear his helmet on the two hour drive to the bunker today. Who knew when he'd feel the wind again on his face, instead of stale, recycled air. He'd almost not gone. The idea of crawling into a hidey-hole sickened him, felt cowardly. Maxwell was a fighter. But the alternative was worse. Maxwell didn't fear dying, but he hated the idea of laying down and letting some big piece of rock take him down.

    He thought back to the fight. The big one. Winner take all. And "all" in this case meant a highly coveted ticket to this underground bunker. Maxwell had almost turned the fight down when his manager called. Almost thrown the fight. But Maxwell had never backed down from a fight in his life, and had never thrown a fight.

    So he'd fought, and he'd won. And here he was, parking is bike in a large field. He got in line, and forced a smile when he reached the ticket warden. "Maxwell Stark." he says by way of greeting.
    Samuel looked at the hardened face of the boxing champion like he recognized it, and something about the name sounded familiar too. Sam almost felt like he should ask but he wasn't much of a boxing fanatic after all, that was more Emma's field, boy that girl could throw a punch...

    Samuel shakes his head, Sorry... Uh, Yes your ticket.

    The electronic beep and green flash confirmed Maxwell's entrance into darkness.

    He gestures for Maxwell to move along, Next?
    ~T

  11. - Top - End - #11
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    Quote Originally Posted by BWS2K View Post
    "And that concludes our final broadcast. Stay safe, true believers, and I'll catchya on the Other Side!"

    Marcus published the video log on his site, shut down his computer, and pushed himself back from the desk. He could see his own reflection in the unpowered monitor, still new to him and not altogether symmetrical - but not really ugly either. There'd been reports of this sort of thing happening recently of course, and he hadn't heard any horror stories yet about people waking up as Jello-O or anything like that, but it's just one of those things he never expected to happen to him.

    It rocked.

    During the night - and well into the afternoon - he dreamt of change. The asteroid, Ender, appeared overhead as a giant egg in the sky and when it landed he felt the shockwave of the blast move through his body on a genetic level. The landscape around him lay charred or burned, twisted metal girders lay exposed from concrete husks of gutted buildings, jutting out like harsh flora in some desert wasteland. Vast dark clouds blotted out the sun, the only light coming from countless automobiles in varying stages of combustion throughout the streets of Boston, his hometown. Approaching in the distance was a tsunami that dwarfed the skyline of the city - and probably any city on Earth. Marcus found he couldn't run, or even turn away, but neither was he afraid. While he knew he should be terrified, he couldn't resist an overwhelming calm - an acceptance of things that must be.

    The wall of water touched the sky and washed over Marcus, through him, and the sight transitioned to something more organic - instead of pavement and concrete and flames, he saw a landscape of trees and lush undergrowth. He was standing in some sort of marsh where the shapes could vaguely be identified as having once been man-made structures, some were even still visible beneath the thick plant cover, but had long ago been taken back by Mother Nature. It felt right. It felt like home.

    Marcus woke up at 1pm that afternoon after having slept for a solid fifteen hours. It took a further fifteen minutes for him to open his eyes as he went through the process of deliberately recalling his dream to record it in his journal later. He dreamt often but never before as vividly as this. He slowly became aware of a prickling sensation in his skin like he was sleeping on a matress filled with gravel and number two pencils. Marcus sat up to investigate and quickly spotted the source of the discomfort - his body was covered in green scales and spine-like growths. There are very few things about Marcus Okin that one would consider "normal" but in this instance he acted like any other rational human would: he completely freaked out for about half an hour.

    When he finally calmed down, Marcus began to consider the long-term implications of what being a lizard man could mean. Most of humanity would be meeting their certain death in a few days - what did it matter what he looked like? Realistically, he could emerge from his bunker and never meet another living human being. That's when his attitude really started to change. He recorded his dream while it was still fresh in his mind, which was only marginally difficult with the spines on his arm being sharp but relatively pliable. He then began filming the last video log for his website, sharing his dream and transformation and encouraging any who might have similar experiences in the future. He left on an upbeat note, knowing that there was still a large portion of his followers that couldn't afford a spot in a survival bunker. If it hadn't been for them, he wouldn't have a ticket either - it was because of their participation in his commissions work that he had a flight that evening for Colorado. Survival wasn't guaranteed for anyone but some locations sure seemed to have better odds.

    He stood up from his chair and moved to the dresser, choosing his wardrobe carefully: some jeans, white socks and tee, and dark grey long-sleeved jersey. Marcus slipped his scaly feet into some vintage red Converse and reflected that while the spines covering much of his body - larger around the joints, he noted - were sharp they did seem to bend in, not unlike some fish. Getting dressed wasn't as difficult as he would have thought and the clothes survived the process pretty well. He wore his clothes loose anyway and the additional bagginess now actually came in handy. He then pulled on a very special item indeed - a Superman hoodie once worn by Christopher Reeves' grandson during production of Superman Reborn, the smash hit of 2020 using the latest in three-dimensional viewing technologies. The hoodie itself is present for a full ten frames in the film as the camera pans up across a crowded street. If Marcus could've brought only one article of clothing into the post-apocalypse, this was it. His rugged black backpack was already pretty much packed and ready to go, his lucky sleeping bag tied to its bottom securely with his baseball bat tucked inbetween. He opened the bag anyway and threw in a couple last minute items anyway: his hacky sack, his Kindle Reader 5.0 - with just about every known comic, graphic novel, and science fiction work - his Rubik's Cube, and a few packages of M&M candies. One last check on his comic collection, which he had tried to secure in airtight tubs as much as possible, just in case, and a wave to his pet neo-iguana Arnold, and Marcus turned from his little twentieth-story city apartment for what he hoped wouldn't be the last time.

    "Sorry I can't take you with me, but I'm sure you'll find plenty of cockroaches to munch on buddy. They're more likely to make it than either of us!"

    The cab to the airport was fairly uneventful, as was the flight in general. There were stares for sure, Marcus' yellow eyes and reptilian look still apparent on his hands and face, but most folks were just worried about how to spend their last hours on Earth. He took another cab to Bunker CC-7900 and tipped the driver generously. As he strode across to meet the security officer, Marcus began to wonder at what the next few days would bring and just how accurate his dream may have been. He pocketed his package of M&M's for the moment.

    "Greetings, Ferryman, here be my coin!" he says, cheerfully presenting his ticket. He adjust the straps on his pack a final time while the ticket is checked, preparing for his descent into the bunker - and an uncertain future.

    Spoiler
    Show
    Marcus' sheet has been updated with guesstimates on weight for those last minute items and the mutations added. I hope that all jives with you, GM, because I only spend two and a half hours on my weekend posts. They'll be shorter for a while I think. Maybe. I promise nothing!
    Sam was surprised for two reasons, firstly never had he seen someone so cheerful to go and live underground for four months, sure it was surviving but, four months? That was really going to drag.

    Secondly and probably more shockingly, this resident appeared to be a human lizard, Sams mouth just opened and closed without any sound leaving his body. As he raised his scanner his eyes never left Marcus's he acted like he was almost hypnotized by the yellow eyes beneath the hood.

    [BEEP] And a green flash

    Sam swallowed, tried to think of something to say, his mind drew a blank.

    L-llizard?

    Was the only sound he managed to make, Seeing Marcus's eyes narrow at the mention of the word, he immediately dropped his gaze to the floor as if suddenly interested by the swarm of ants marching in a line.

    He didn't look up again until Marcus had moved on.

    He let out a sigh of relief, Marcus reminded him of something out of a comic book.

    All he could think was whether that was real or had being out in the Sun all day made him start hallucinating?
    Last edited by SgtParish; 2013-01-27 at 04:06 PM.
    ~T

  12. - Top - End - #12
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    Quote Originally Posted by rorikdude12 View Post
    Jake walked down the road. This wasn't a good time for Jake. Already most had moved into the bunkers. Jake himself wasn't one to go with the trends, though. While most smoked cigarettes in the trenches moors, he took pills to keep the munchies away. While the others watched movies on break, he played chess on the internet. Jake knew he would die when Ender hit if he wasn't in a bunker, though. Dying was another trend Jake didn't want to follow.

    Jake inhaled the fresh air in deep breaths through his nostrils. He jogged along the road, noting the lack of automobiles as he neared the bunker. Most had probably left for their last drink or something. If I couldn't get a ticket, I'd fight my way in, Jake thought to himself. He punched himself in the gut and flt his armor. Good thing he still wore his vest. When everything goes Mad Max, I'll be the one laughing. The moors taught me that. United States ArmyMoor-Dwellers.

    Jake walked up to the man handling the tickets and produced his dog tag and his US Government-issued ticket.

    "Hello sir. Is this sufficient? In addition, do you possess the training and license to carry a firearm?"
    Still recovering from his encounter with Curt Connors, only to be then questioned if he should carry a fire arm.

    Sam quickly recognized the U.S Army insignia printed on the ticket, he didn't bother scanning this one, to do so he thought would be an insult to a man of service.

    "My revolver? I have a licence right here," Sam retrieves his licence from his wallet, could he go to prison for not showing one? Sam didn't know the answer to that, nor did he want to find out."

    "I'm really happy that your here sir, I've been having a few problems with the locals threatening to come here and shoot me if I don't let them in, I don't suppose your any good with fire arms, are you? A bet it's a soldier with a keen shot like you, is what won the war for us in Iran."

    (Jake feel free to enter the bunker when your ready)
    ~T

  13. - Top - End - #13
    Orc in the Playground
     
    BWS2K's Avatar

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    So that's what it's going to be like, thought Marcus after hearing the man's one-word reaction. Death, taxes, and prejudice I suppose.

    "It's pronounced Marcus Okin actually..." he replied with a toothy smile.

    He let the man have his space - goodness knows they'll have time to get better acquainted soon enough. Marcus took in a long final look at the sun, the sky, the land all around them. He had the forethought to pack a number of new sketchbooks, and to save some of the old ones too, along with a good selection of sturdy pens and markers. Now wasn't the time for drawing though, and he closed his eyes, drew one last deep breath of fresh air, and proceeded down the ladder.
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    Curt Connors?! Yes! lol
    Marcus Okin, End of Days
    [MHRPG] Breakout: IC OOC
    [Toypocalypse] Some Assembly Required IC OOC
    MHRPG Cyclops

  14. - Top - End - #14
    Bugbear in the Playground
     
    HalflingRangerGuy

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    Michael Kerr took one last look at his cupboards. They were stocked, beans fruit, vegitables, tuna. Since the invention of canning man had found no end of things that could be put in in a can, and Michael had it all. For months he had been stock piling canned goods and spare batteries, extra medical supplies. More than enough for a year or two, maybe even 3 if he rationed. Everything one would need in a post apocolyptic world. He hardly recognized the 3rd floor apartment. If it was still here after the asteriod he would be set. If...

    He pushed her from his mind and added the few finishing touches to his pack. It was filled with the same kind of things, flashlights, a few canned goods and trail rations, some thermo blankets and medical supplies, extra batteries, a hatchet; a portable version of the warehouse that used to be his apartment. an M9 pistol was buried at the very bottom, just in case they gave him any trouble at the bunker. It was legally owned and licensed, but he was not sure if such instruments would be allowed beyond the hatch. There was no telling what kind of world the asteriod would unless, but he wanted it near when it did.

    He could feel her eyes on him from behind the glass. Ignoring her was growing harder and harder. Finally he picked up the picture frame. His pack was still open, there was room. "not for this" he thought. He placed the picture back down on the end table this time with the glass against the grain, and sinched up his pack. If he was going to survive he must be mindful of the present. Dwelling on the past would do him no good. He shut and locked the door and bound down the stairs to his pick-up.

    When he got to the street level there was Pete digging in the garbage. This was where he usually found him. The toothless old man was wearing his old football jersey and a pair of sneakers Mike had given him months ago. Must not dwell on the past he thought, what did it matter anyway? The chance it would all be here when he got back was slim to none. Even if it was, 4 months is a long time, somebody would break in a ransack the place anyway. He had a golden ticket. A litteral golden ticket. Well it was blue and black, but it was worth gold. He didn't earn it, he barely wanted the damn thing. Tomorrow was not just a new day it was a new world. These people outside had nothing, nothing but death.

    He waited for a cab he could flag down to come near then he turned to the man.

    Hey Pete! Apt 34. Good luck." and he tossed the old man his keys. Pete knew which truck was his...could he drive a stick? Mike wondered as he got in the cab with a dumb grin on his face.

    The drive out to the country was shorter than he thought it would be. He paid the cabbie with the last $60 in his wallet, and made his way to the line of people heading to the bunker. The ticket taker was dressed in the same ripped jeans and faded t-shirt Mike was wearing. A gun on his hip and a look of concern on his face.

    Christ, Mike thought, he looks like a regular guy. He probably took this job just to get in there. Hell a week ago, he could have been me. He handed the man his ticket...

  15. - Top - End - #15
    Orc in the Playground
     
    SgtParish's Avatar

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    Quote Originally Posted by shizukanashi View Post
    Michael Kerr took one last look at his cupboards. They were stocked, beans fruit, vegitables, tuna. Since the invention of canning man had found no end of things that could be put in in a can, and Michael had it all. For months he had been stock piling canned goods and spare batteries, extra medical supplies. More than enough for a year or two, maybe even 3 if he rationed. Everything one would need in a post apocolyptic world. He hardly recognized the 3rd floor apartment. If it was still here after the asteriod he would be set. If...

    He pushed her from his mind and added the few finishing touches to his pack. It was filled with the same kind of things, flashlights, a few canned goods and trail rations, some thermo blankets and medical supplies, extra batteries, a hatchet; a portable version of the warehouse that used to be his apartment. an M9 pistol was buried at the very bottom, just in case they gave him any trouble at the bunker. It was legally owned and licensed, but he was not sure if such instruments would be allowed beyond the hatch. There was no telling what kind of world the asteriod would unless, but he wanted it near when it did.

    He could feel her eyes on him from behind the glass. Ignoring her was growing harder and harder. Finally he picked up the picture frame. His pack was still open, there was room. "not for this" he thought. He placed the picture back down on the end table this time with the glass against the grain, and sinched up his pack. If he was going to survive he must be mindful of the present. Dwelling on the past would do him no good. He shut and locked the door and bound down the stairs to his pick-up.

    When he got to the street level there was Pete digging in the garbage. This was where he usually found him. The toothless old man was wearing his old football jersey and a pair of sneakers Mike had given him months ago. Must not dwell on the past he thought, what did it matter anyway? The chance it would all be here when he got back was slim to none. Even if it was, 4 months is a long time, somebody would break in a ransack the place anyway. He had a golden ticket. A litteral golden ticket. Well it was blue and black, but it was worth gold. He didn't earn it, he barely wanted the damn thing. Tomorrow was not just a new day it was a new world. These people outside had nothing, nothing but death.

    He waited for a cab he could flag down to come near then he turned to the man.

    Hey Pete! Apt 34. Good luck." and he tossed the old man his keys. Pete knew which truck was his...could he drive a stick? Mike wondered as he got in the cab with a dumb grin on his face.

    The drive out to the country was shorter than he thought it would be. He paid the cabbie with the last $60 in his wallet, and made his way to the line of people heading to the bunker. The ticket taker was dressed in the same ripped jeans and faded t-shirt Mike was wearing. A gun on his hip and a look of concern on his face.

    Christ, Mike thought, he looks like a regular guy. He probably took this job just to get in there. Hell a week ago, he could have been me. He handed the man his ticket...
    Sam seeing Mike wearing the same clothes as him gave him some relief, he smiled but said nothing about their shared appearance. He decided if he was going to fit in, he'd have to start acting more manly, and be less fussy about clothes.

    There you go, As the scanner flashed green, and Sam handed the ticket back.

    Everyone else has headed in already, I'm going to wait till nightfall then come down too. You wouldn't believe how dangerous it is round here...
    ~T

  16. - Top - End - #16
    Bugbear in the Playground
     
    HalflingRangerGuy

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    "Don't be a hero, people are bound to get antsy the closer that thing gets." He adjusted his pack, thinking of the taser and the handgun at the bottom.

    "Let me get settled in and I might be back up for one last look around." Mike took one now, just incase. Then headed down the ladder.

  17. - Top - End - #17
    Ettin in the Playground
     
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    Olov smiled as he heard about how dangerous it was out here. That was how he would get in. Pretending to be an inspector and personally risking himself should put him at ease. Hello friend, I am Andrew Smith. I am the bunker inspector to make sure that all the proper procedures are being followed. Of course you should have been informed about my coming and that you are my last stop and will be housing me. I will do a quick check over of the bunker and then help you guard the bunker from those despicable bottom feeders trying to sneak into the bunker. Olov said smiling as he flashed his fake ID that stated that he was an ex-military man in the employ of the government. Of course it was all hocus but he hoped that he wouldn't check too far into it.

    Spoiler
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    Bluff roll (1d20+1)[13] hopefully I will get a bonus for the fake ID prop
    Last edited by Hamste; 2013-01-28 at 12:20 PM.

  18. - Top - End - #18
    Barbarian in the Playground
     
    SwashbucklerGuy

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    "I'm.... a good shot. I must be going."

    Jake descends into the vault.

  19. - Top - End - #19
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    HalflingPirate

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    Maxwell smiles and nods again, then with a deep breath, climbs down the ladder into the earth. He glances over at his bike, wondering if it will still be hear when he emerged. If he ever emerged. He smirks at the slight irony of escaping certain death by retreating into a giant coffin. Because that was certainly what it felt like this was. An enormous, government subsidized, mass coffin. He considered the few items he'd stored in his backpack. "I guess you CAN take it with you, at least as far as purgatory."
    Last edited by Mordaenor; 2013-01-28 at 12:41 PM.
    O! For a muse of Fire!

    Maxwell Stark

  20. - Top - End - #20
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    SgtParish's Avatar

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    Quote Originally Posted by Hamste View Post
    Olov smiled as he heard about how dangerous it was out here. That was how he would get in. Pretending to be an inspector and personally risking himself should put him at ease. Hello friend, I am Andrew Smith. I am the bunker inspector to make sure that all the proper procedures are being followed. Of course you should have been informed about my coming and that you are my last stop and will be housing me. I will do a quick check over of the bunker and then help you guard the bunker from those despicable bottom feeders trying to sneak into the bunker. Olov said smiling as he flashed his fake ID that stated that he was an ex-military man in the employ of the government. Of course it was all hocus but he hoped that he wouldn't check too far into it.

    Spoiler
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    Bluff roll (d20)[11] hopefully I will get a bonus for the fake ID prop
    (Sense Motive DC 18)
    Spoiler
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    (d20)[11]


    Samuel, is shocked by the presence of a bunker Inspector, though he thought IF the U.S government was going to spend thousands on designing and setting up these modules it made sense to Sam that a bunker Inspector would be sent round. Sam was also relieved that he had been careful not to let any non-residents in, his placement would've been on the line.

    Of course Sir, right way. If your okay finding your way in, I'll stay out here on watch.

    Noticing the Sun was beginning to set, Sam withdraws his revolver, checking to reassure himself it's loaded.
    Last edited by SgtParish; 2013-01-28 at 05:27 PM.
    ~T

  21. - Top - End - #21
    Ettin in the Playground
     
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    Olov went downstairs and made it look like he was inspecting the bunker. Once done he headed back upstairs to help guard to keep off the desperate people like he promised. He had to remember that he had used the name Andrew Smith while in he was living in this bunker.

    Spoiler
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    (1d20+1)[3] for spot check while I was looking around down there (I'm not sure if I get a negative for doing it some what quickly or not).

  22. - Top - End - #22
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    SgtParish's Avatar

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    As you descend ladder leading down into the dark shaft, a feeling of great unease washes over you, the air is far colder down here, and the strong odor of industrial oil fills your nostrils as you continue your descent into into the bunker. You are reminded of all the things you'll leave behind on the surface. Family, Friends, Your possessions that were too large or too impractical to bring with you, even where you'd lived. Everything surrendered to the Asteroid for a chance of survival, it hurt to think about the people you'd be leaving behind, knowing far too well that they weren't lucky like you were, that they would be stuck on the surface, to meet the Asteroid head on.

    As you reach the bottom of the ladder, you look up for one last glimpse of daylight, perhaps the last you'll ever see. Before entering the unknown of the the bunker. The door parts sideways, revealing a set of black stairs.

    The staircase down leads you into the "Mess Hall", a living room cross dining room area, in which is a scattering of padded furniture similar to those found in airports. Running along the centre of the room is a long metallic table with fixed seating, the lack of style and colour reminds you of school cafeteria's from days long gone. Just plain grey metallic panels hiding the wires and cables that will be keeping you alive these next few months.

    In the room you notice, several people who have already arrived.

    Two teenage girls sit in the room, it is evident that they are twins despite their dyed hair. One girl with bright white sits with her shoes resting on the coffee table, she appears to be reading a comic book, while the other twin with jet black hair sits a few feet away from her wrapping bandages around her knuckles, neither look up as you enter the room.

    In the far corner a group of three American women are deep in conversation over a bowl of soup, they talk fast and their clothes give the impression that they're wealthy. They glance over to you, before returning to their conversation.

    A man sits relaxed in a chair, calmly watching you, while reading from "Jericho Technician's Handbook". A oil stained jacket is slung across the back of his chair, with screwdrivers and pliers protruding from a side pocket.

    The last person in the room you see is a middle aged woman, with brown hair and casual dress, at first she doesn't notice you, since she enters the room from another corridor, Shouting.

    "Jessica!, Jessica! Get your shoes off of the table!"

    The girl with White hair casually kicks her shoes off, sending them wildly across the room.

    Her sister looks up, smirks and then returns to her wrappings.

    "For God's sake time and time again I ask you... Oh hello,"

    The woman is surprised by your entrance, she brushes down her dress as if it were dirty.

    I didn't realize the new residents had arrived, sorry. I'm Sandra, Sam's wife. *Ahem* Er... If you want to choose which dorm you want; two, three, five, six, seven, eight, nine and ten are available.

    She points to the sign above each of the doors in the mess hall, numbered 1 to 10 with the 11th being labelled as "Technicians Quarters", and being the only room with a lock on the door.

    From behind, you hear footsteps clanking on the ladder, Sam enters the room with another man and judging from his dress he appears to look like a University Professor.

    "Aha!" Sam exclaims, "Nice to see you've met the wife" He smiles and kisses Sandra.

    He continues;

    "Those two girls there are my daughters, Jessica and Emma. We had to dye their hair just to tell them apart." Sam and Sandra chuckle at the joke, while his daughters ignore them.

    "Those three women in the corner are the Washington Sisters, Hello Ladies!" Sam smiles waving his hand. They look up and smile back, before returning to they're conversation again.

    "And this very fine gentleman here, is our very own private technician, but I'll let him introduce himself..."

    (Go Awesomeusername!)
    ~T

  23. - Top - End - #23
    Dwarf in the Playground
     
    NinjaGuy

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    Randal gets up from his chair, brushes his hands off and walks to the newcomers, “Why thank you, Sam”, he turns to the group, “Hello, I am Randal Branscom, the technician here.” He then goes around shaking hands with whomever offers their hand to him. As you look at him, Randal appears to look not very special; curly brown hair, green eyes, wearing a T-shirt underneath his mechanic's smock. His only really distinguishing features are his overly dilated pupils and his callused hands.
    Carlos Burnham - Legends of Stormcap Peak


  24. - Top - End - #24
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    BWS2K's Avatar

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    Marcus takes in the sights and faces with casual interest, noting at least one kindred spirit among the group - the girl reading a comic. He chuckles to himself at her response to her mother's request. Not even the apocalypse could stop a teenager's attitude. He nods and smiles in response to the introductions as they are made, wondering what people see now when they look at him. He returns handshakes with a firm grip, revealing scaly green hands to match his face.

    Didn't expect to spend the next four months with a freak, didjya? he muses, surprised at how easy it was for him to cope with his sudden transformation.

    "A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Branscom," Marcus replies with respect, "I can't speak for the others, but don't hesitate to ask if you need any help running this little lifeboat."

    He meanders over to the side of the room and collects the stray sneakers, setting them beside the table on the floor. "Ladies," he says warmly to them both, "A pleasure to meet you as well. Glad to see I'm not the only one who thought to save humanity's more important literary works." He winks at Jessica as he says this, not sure if he'll be recognized but glad to see that at least some of his fans will survive Ender.
    Spoiler
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    I never like to paint my characters too specifically before they have a chance to be played - I never know what sort of personality they're going to have exactly. Marcus is somewhat optimistic and making the best of the situation, cheerful and polite. Charming would be one word to describe him, but not in a creepy way (well, aside from his appearance I guess) - it's a genuine, perhaps naive, sincerity. If you want some sort of roll for that I can provide one in the OOC or you can roll on your own. I don't think everyone should be wicked stressed out about things - even Sam told a joke. And expect a lot of made-up inside jokes about Millenial Man between these two, if Jessica doesn't hate Marcus' guts.
    Marcus Okin, End of Days
    [MHRPG] Breakout: IC OOC
    [Toypocalypse] Some Assembly Required IC OOC
    MHRPG Cyclops

  25. - Top - End - #25
    Bugbear in the Playground
     
    HalflingPirate

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    Maxwell, determined not to let his less than sunny outlook make a bad first impression, steps forward and smiles. "Maxwell Stark, pleasure to meet all of you." He pauses a fraction of a moment, just long enough to register if anyone, reacted to the name. While it still felt like an "underground" sport to him, the truth was boxing had grown in popularity in recent years, and if you followed boxing you probably new the name "Turbo Max."

    He turns back to Sam. "We expecting more, or is this the whole crew? Oh, and I call dibs on which ever room is closest to the mess hall." He grins.

    Maxwell is on the taller side of average height, with a powerful, muscular build that comes with being a professional athlete. His red hair is cut quite short. He wears dark brown jeans and a sweatshirt that bears the name of his local gym.

    He raises one eyebrow when Marcus shakes his hand, but says nothing. He'd met enough MU-junkies at the gym, trying to push their limits through use of mutagenic enhancements. They'd become the new steroids, but they weren't illegal, and there wasn't much will to try imposing regulations once Ender became public knowledge. He'd even faced a few in the ring, and bested some of them. So much for a competive edge. Not him though, body is a temple and all that.
    Last edited by Mordaenor; 2013-01-29 at 12:07 PM.
    O! For a muse of Fire!

    Maxwell Stark

  26. - Top - End - #26
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    SgtParish's Avatar

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    Quote Originally Posted by BWS2K View Post
    Marcus takes in the sights and faces with casual interest, noting at least one kindred spirit among the group - the girl reading a comic. He chuckles to himself at her response to her mother's request. Not even the apocalypse could stop a teenager's attitude. He nods and smiles in response to the introductions as they are made, wondering what people see now when they look at him. He returns handshakes with a firm grip, revealing scaly green hands to match his face.

    Didn't expect to spend the next four months with a freak, didjya? he muses, surprised at how easy it was for him to cope with his sudden transformation.

    "A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Branscom," Marcus replies with respect, "I can't speak for the others, but don't hesitate to ask if you need any help running this little lifeboat."

    He meanders over to the side of the room and collects the stray sneakers, setting them beside the table on the floor. "Ladies," he says warmly to them both, "A pleasure to meet you as well. Glad to see I'm not the only one who thought to save humanity's more important literary works." He winks at Jessica as he says this, not sure if he'll be recognized but glad to see that at least some of his fans will survive Ender.
    Spoiler
    Show
    I never like to paint my characters too specifically before they have a chance to be played - I never know what sort of personality they're going to have exactly. Marcus is somewhat optimistic and making the best of the situation, cheerful and polite. Charming would be one word to describe him, but not in a creepy way (well, aside from his appearance I guess) - it's a genuine, perhaps naive, sincerity. If you want some sort of roll for that I can provide one in the OOC or you can roll on your own. I don't think everyone should be wicked stressed out about things - even Sam told a joke. And expect a lot of made-up inside jokes about Millenial Man between these two, if Jessica doesn't hate Marcus' guts.
    Initially uneasy about a stranger staring at her, from the other side of the room. She mellows as she notices you were just being friendly, her body language suggests she doesn't even notice that your lacking certain human elements. She looks up at you, with a quizzical expression.

    "You read comics?" Her question is quietly spoken, but direct.

    "Don't suppose you've ever read this one?" She holds up the cover of the Signed Copy of "Millennial Man". You recognise your scrawled signature at the base of the comic.

    "It's pretty old... But I love the art style, it's got that retro-ey feel to it, you know?" She smiles up at you. Her eyes shining.

    Brief Silence

    From across the room Emma look's up, annoyed. "Jay! Our room, now."

    Emma storms off into room "One". Jessica keeps pace behind her, they close the door behind them.

    "Well, that was weird, teenagers huh?" Sam comments.
    Last edited by SgtParish; 2013-01-30 at 04:42 AM.
    ~T

  27. - Top - End - #27
    Bugbear in the Playground
     
    HalflingRangerGuy

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    "So you are the man keeping us alive in here, huh?" He gave the technician a strong handshake. "Pleasure to meet you Randal, Michael Kerr."

    He scanned the faces of the room. The all seemed like well enough people. Still, living underground was an adjustment, and Mike suddenly felt the need to come to terms with that. There would be plenty of time for introductions later. Asuming all the rooms had a few bunks if a whole family was living in room 1, he picked the room that he felt would be most avoided. "I'm in six."

  28. - Top - End - #28
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    Finn put his backpack and parka in Room #2 and locks the door if able. He eyeballs the fellow with scaly skin and considers a few diagnoses. He scans the room and notices the rippling muscles on Maxwell's rib cage, frowns for a moment in thought, then decides it's time to make his first friend. It's a bit of an awkward social situation. Kind of like speed dating.

    "Hello neighbor, I'm Finn McCullough. This is a bit of a glum party, but I suppose we should get to know each other!"
    Last edited by Bonecrusher Doc; 2013-01-29 at 02:38 PM.
    Thanks to Daryk for the Paladin avatar. Darius Sungold. 1648 OOC.

  29. - Top - End - #29
    Pixie in the Playground
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    Ark looks around and gives grunts of greeting to the inhabitants of the bunker. Trying his best to be friendly. He shakes Randals' hand firmly giving him a small smile.

    I've been working most of my life with engines and parts, nice to see another man here with the same skills.

    He takes another look around at the inhabitants, and sighs. A wave of sudden sadness washed over him. He wasn't up to connecting with this many people this soon. After everything that had happened with his dad, and John... He couldn't keep his mind off of things long enough to keep a conversation going with the people here.

    Not yet at least.

    He wanders over to a free room, away from the people, and closes the door. The room was small, but enough. He slumps onto the bed and slowly withdraws a photo out of his jacket pocket.

    A small, terrible quality photo of two young boys is shown with a shambled race cart, most of it made from an old golf buggy. The two young boys are smiling with big grins and holding either side of thier creation happily. One boy with dark hair, the other with blonde. They are both wearing white polo shirts with the words "COLORADO NO.1" clumsily embroidered onto it.

    Ark looks on sadly at the photo and then holds his head in his hands.

  30. - Top - End - #30
    Dwarf in the Playground
     
    NinjaGuy

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    Quote Originally Posted by BWS2K View Post
    "A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Branscom," Marcus replies with respect, "I can't speak for the others, but don't hesitate to ask if you need any help running this little lifeboat."
    In reply, Randal says "Thank you for the offer, but everything seems to be running smoothly at the moment. I'll be sure to ask if the time ever comes around, which it hopefully doesn't.", before Marcus leaves to talk to the twins.

    Seeing most of the newcomers dispersing to claim their rooms, Randal decides to go back to his chair to look over some more chapters of the handbook, who knows, might come in handy when trying to fix this place.
    Carlos Burnham - Legends of Stormcap Peak


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