long road to ruin // (semiadv-adv.)(jump-in)(closed)

This is an archived version of FeralFront. While you can surf through all the content that was ever created on FeralFront, no new content can be created.
If you'd like some free FeralFront memorabilia to look back on fondly, see this thread from Dynamo (if this message is still here, we still have memorabilia): https://feralfront.com/thread/2669184-free-feralfront-memorabilia/.

  • Aurin Frasier
    ___________________________________
    carry me home
    to your house of broken bones
    ___________


    Aurin Frasier grimaced as he approached the lump in the sand. Small and just barely smoldering, he would have missed it entirely had he not been on the lookout. Faint details and traces of any expression were long burnt away, but the shape was unmistakable. The man sunk to his knees, one hand jabbing the metal scrap he carried into the dust below, and the other hand scooping up a fist-full of the stuff. Bowing his head, Aurin scattered the dry earth over the blackened body before him. He spoke a few words. Ancient words in strange tongue, they held meaning for very few people anymore. He sat there for a moment. Taking in the air, the surroundings, the grey sun above, and the fallen soldier before him. Aurin blinked as he studied the body. There really was no way of telling if the man had been a soldier, or an enemy, or even a man at all. But in this world, all men and all women who fought for survival were soldiers.


    Gripping the scrap metal, Aurin yanked the piece from the ground. Then he stood. His destination loomed in the distance before him. Try as he might, the young man couldn’t peel his eyes from it. The razed outpost-town of Bellwether was an amazing sight: painting the sky above it black with smoke, the remaining buildings stood like petrified shadows against the skyline. From where he stood, maybe a half-mile away or so, Aurin could still hear the crackling of embers. A pit was growing in the young man’s stomach. As he neared the ruins, a feeling of dread for what he might find came over him, a feeling that he tried very hard to ignore. But he was here on a mission. Survivors. That was his purpose here, and he’d be damned if he didn’t leave with one saved life.




    Lani Emmerton
    _______________________
    holding onto the simple things
    before they disappear
    ____________


    "One Rebel Tempest! On the rocks and dryer than my ex's humor!" The latter of the remarks lead to light chuckles throughout the bar and tavern. A man on the west-end of the counter rose a hand. He was a regular- tall and rather intelligent-looking, known only by Lani for his rather irregular choices of drink. "What's it today, hun?" the young woman queried as she passed her customer a reddish-gold tinted drink. Her copper-colored hair fell in choppy locks as she tipped her head in question. With each movement she made, the rings on her beaded shawl chimed together. She had a very exotic beauty to her. Wild and bright-eyed, but motherly and devoted at heart. She cared for her customers, and though she caught their eyes trained on her on more than one occasion, she knew they cared for her in the same respect. "Cure to Pacorus? Artificial intelligence? Don't leave me hanging" she teased. The man was always working on some strange new invention. Whether he'd had a drink in him or not, and whether Lani wanted to hear about his antics or not, she was always sure to receive a mouthful.






    [center][fancypost=borderwidth=0px; width: 450px; text-align: justify;][font=trebuchet ms]Hey there! If you haven't figured it out already, this a post-apocalyptic roleplay set in a pretty war-torn world. No form is required to join. I merely ask for a good-sized paragraph or so at minimum per post (well-written of course), and activity. While it is a jump-in, there are a few key notes about the world that I think would be very helpful to know. (promise it won't take too long!)


    The world itself is in shambles, with only around 30% of it still inhabitable, while the remaining 70% scarred by open wasteland. A brutal war left it this way, and even after 60 years of relative peace, the planet has recovered very little. Bandits infest the lands, brutal gangs that make their living ravaging the live of the weak, and the risks of radiation poisoning is an unfortunate reality. However, all isn't bleak and dismal in this little earth. Small havens called "Townposts" can be found scattered across the country. These communities are the modern-day cities, and range in both size and population. Each Townpost has a sort of scout/police regiment comprised of volunteers that protect and scavenge for the masses. Technology, though nothing compared to the pre-war tech, is fairly advanced. Robots and super-medicines are very much things that exist, but they all have their limitations. Guns, swords, crossbows, and any other weapon under the sun are key to survival in the wastelands- thought guns and guts alone can't guarantee everything.


    My character, Aurin, is on his way to scout the ruins of the Townpost of Bellwether for survivors. Lani, my other character, is in a Townpost called Southrun a couple miles south. It's an open world, so you can really jump in wherever you'd like. You can be a survivor of the ruins, a scout for a Townpost, a resident of Southrun, or even an enemy raider. The choice is yours! I plan on having everyone meet up at Southrun relatively soon, and potentially band together from there.


    If you have any questions don't be afraid to shoot me a pm or just ask here. I don't bite!

    The post was edited 6 times, last by resaren ().

  • Chloe hiked down the long, lifeless road that seemed to go on forever. Approaching an intersection, she read the signs on a nearby pole. One arrow pointing right read "Southrun", and another pointing left read "Bellwether". Pulling out her map, Chloe checked which path would lead her toward Goldcrest. Her destination was southeast, so she figured she would stop in Southrun for the night. Turning right, she continued down the road until she reached the gates of Southrun. By the time she was in town, the sun was starting to set. As Chloe passed building with a big sign reading "Tavern", she heard a fair amount of chatter emanating from inside.


    Chloe entered the building and was washed over with the smell of alcohol. She took a deep breath. I've been on the road for almost a week without finding a town. This is welcoming. I might stay q couple days and relax. She thought, pausing to take in the friendly atmosphere. No, I must get to Goldcrest. Johan and I are to meet there and he's probably waiting on me. I'll leave first thing in the morning. She walked over and sat at the bar. "It's been a while, Chloe, how have you been?" The bartender greeted her. "Still alive and kickin', so I guess I've got that going for me. Get me whatever passes for a drink around here." As the bartender poured a drink, Chloe turned to study the individuals around her. There were a few familiar faces, but since Chloe had been gone for a few months, there were lots of strangers. The man beside her had orange hair and a mask covering his face. He seemed to be the center of attention. Taking an interest in the man, Chloe decided to converse with him. "Hey, where are you from? I haven't seen you around here."
    [mergedate]1483779854[/mergedate]
    I'm currently on mobile, so I couldn't make a fancypost easily, but I'll set up my computer tomorrow and make one for this roleplay.

  • [fancypost borderwidth=0pt; font-size: 11px; font-family: georgia; text-align: justify; width: 360px;][font=trebuchet ms] thank you so much for joining! wonderful post, however i think you're a bit mistaken- Lani is the bartender. the guy she's talking to is just a random customer. sorry if it was unclear! also as a side note, she currently isn't wearing her mask. that's more of a combat/stealth accessory that she uses when on the road.

  • Shari Levv sat at the bar, arms crossed in front of her chest as she sat up straight on the barstool. Her blonde hair was cropped short and a scar ran from the outer corner of her eye in a wicked curve to the bottom of her chin. Her emerald eyes were piercing and she had a no-nonsense air about her. "Come on Lani, serve me your best." Having just sat down, Shari was looking to forget the rest of the world - or what was left of it - as she always did when the fighting was over.


    "Damn you!" Shari yelled, her powerful voice overthrowing the yell of the last mercenary that opposed her as he charged in her direction. Two other mercenary bodies and the body of Shari's friend lay at their feet as they struck, blow for blow. Swords wielded, they clashed with a sound of metal on metal. This one was skilled and Shari struggled to stay on the offensive side of the fight; something she wasn't used to in the least. With flourishes and leaps, dodging and parrying, Shari was breathing heavily, a sheen of sweat covering her skin. The mercenary made a wrong step and he knew it. A look of fear entered his eyes and the blonde soldier dealt the executing blow. With heaving breaths, Shari sheathed her sword, went to her friend's body and gently closed his eyelids over his deep brown eyes. Looking to her left, the townpost of Southrun lay as a beacon of safety. If soldiers and fighters didn't keep the raiders out, then it would never stay that way. Starting to walk in the direction of the townpost, Shari mumbled to herself, "Time for a drink."


    ooc; I think this is an amazing idea <3 I really like it! I'm thinking of making another character, a kid. A little mischievous devil. I was wondering if he could be Lani's kid so he can stay around the tavern and cause trouble muahaha. Just a suggestion ^^

    The post was edited 1 time, last by //forever ().

  • [align=center]

    [fancypost bgcolor=#a4baa2; border:none; width:10px; height:300px; margin-right:-5px;][/fancypost] [fancypost bgcolor=#5f905b;margin-right:-30px; border-top: none; border-bottom: none; border-left: none; border-right: none; width:1px; height:300px;][/fancypost] [fancypost bgcolor=transparent;border:none; width: 200px; height:300px;background:url(http://i65.tinypic.com/2cfrvw8.jpg) center; background-size:cover;][/fancypost] [fancypost bgcolor=#5f905b;margin-left:-5px; border-top: none; border-bottom: none; border-left: none; border-right: none; width:1px; height:300px;][/fancypost] [fancypost bgcolor=#a4baa2; border:2px solid #4a6b47; width:250px; height:296px; margin-left:-30px;][fancypost bgcolor=transparent; border:none; width:200px; height:auto; text-align:right; font-size:30px; color:#5f905b; margin-top:-5px;][b][shadow=black,right]PINWICK RASHIRI[/fancypost]
    [fancypost bgcolor=transparent; border:none; width:230px; height:230px; overflow:auto; text-align:justify; color:black; font-size:8pt; line-height:100%; padding:10px;]
    “Lorenzo, please stop eating my bag.” Pinwick turned slightly to see the horse nuzzling the threadbare satchel on the ground a few feet away. Rude. Pinwick’s eyes traveled to Lorenzo’s dark mane, which was knotted into a messy braid that traveled the length of his neck. Pinwick blinked slowly as he inspected the tangles, as well as the dried and crumpled leaves woven among the hairs that he had long forgotten about. Lorenzo shook her head as she stepped closer to fully thrust his nose into Pinwick’s bag. The leaves rustled as the horse dug his nose deeper into the satchel.
    Pinwick shook his head much like the mare and turned back to his newest pursuit. He was crouched on the ground, his hands clawing at the dirt to pursue his newest hobby: scavenging for whatever treasure he could find. In a short couple hours he had found several treasures, including but not limited to; two good-sized pieces of smooth plastic hooked together by a stretchy-curly cord, a nice wooden spoon, and a glass jar full of shells, miraculously not broken. There were curious items Pinwick couldn’t name or even dream up the uses he would have for them, but they would make nice decorations for his fort, that was a certainty.
    “Lorenzo?” Pinwick started. He picked up a rusted metal case and shook it, hearing the sharp sounds of small pieces railing around inside. He turned to see Lorenzo flick her ear at the sudden sound, but she hand’t moved from the bag. “Lorenzo, I’ve been thinking.” Pinwick pried open the small case with dirty nails, and sat back in surprise as the lid flew off and a dozen of tiny objects flew out and landed on the ground around him. “I think we should go exploring.”
    Pinwick looked up from the empty case to Lorenzo, who had abandoned the satchel and had taken a couple steps in Pinwick’s direction, bending her nose down to nudge him. Pinwick nodded solemnly. “I’m glad you’re alright with my choice.” He turned back to look at the tin. The bright colors had drew him in, on the front was a green tree decorated with bright colored lights and surrounded by colorful boxes. Interesting. Pinwick traced his finger along the raised outline of the tree, then glanced around him. He picked up the first item by him: a beaded metal chain with a small plate threaded onto it. Pinwick rubbed at the plate, smudging away the dirt to examine it. He couldn’t read. The boy ducked his head through the chain and settled the cool metal around his neck. Nice.
    The next two were a pink ribbon and brown thread on a wooden spool. The ribbon would look nice on Lorenzo, Pinwick thought as he tossed both items in the tin. The final item was a strange tube, made of green and yellow paper woven together. Pinwick shrugged and kept it in his hand, then closed the lid. He wiped the horse slobber from his back and tossed his treasures, tin included, into his bag. He threw the single good strap across his body and walked over to Lorenzo, who was grazing at the weeds poking up from in between concrete. “Let’s go, Lorenzo.”
    Pinwick started down the road, his bare feet scuffing the ground. He heard the sharp but steady hooves of Lorenzo following him. Pinwick suddenly remembered the strange paper object in his hands. He lifted his hand up and opened his palm to stare at it. It was made from heavy straw like material, about the length of his two pointer fingers put together, and without thinking any farther Pinwick stuck both finger into the paper tube. Yes they fit. Pinwick tugged his fingers at the same time to get them out of the tube. They didn’t move. He blinked.
    “Lorenzo, I may be in need of some assistance.” Pinwick tugged his fingers again. The paper only tightened its grip on his fingers the more he tried to free them. Pinwick glanced over his shoulder to see Lorenzo coming up from behind him. The horse looked at him through her wide black eye, unresponsive. Pinwick sighed, his eyes focused on the paper trap. They were reaching the edge of the city. He hadn’t realized how close they were to the edge. Curious.
    “I think I see someone up ahead.” Pinwick told Lorenzo. He would have pointed, paper monster allowing, but instead he just nodded forward. “Maybe they can help us.” Holding his trapped finger in front of him, Pinwick continued to walk forward. Yes. They would help.

    ooc;; the items pin found were a landline phone and later dogtags and a chinese finger trap.
    [/fancypost][/fancypost]
  • John felt the fist of the large man, smash his face into the dirt. Another man, smaller than the other, came up from his said and kicked him a few times in the ribs. While the man did that, two of the raiders went through his stuff. When the man stopped and stood over him, the guy who had seemed to be the bandit leader pulled something out of John's bag: His precious gun. "What a fine piece of iron you have here boyo! How did someone like you, come across something like this? Damn, I've always wanted something like this!" He had a tone of sarcasm and amusment as he saw the hate in John's eyes. "Listen here you bas-." John was cut off as he was given another swifter kick to the side. The boss spoke once again. "Look, if you had just listen to us and did as you were told we wouldn't be having this conversation right now, but that's not the case is it? No. You thought we weren't serious, you thought you were top, but now look at you. You're lucky I'm feeling generous or I'd have your head hanging on one of these trees! So next time don't mess with me or I'll drag you by your neck bcack out here and kill you my self. Are we clear? Good. Alright let's get rolling." His finger made and circle mothion in the air, so the men gathered thier stuff and left. John was left on both his hands and knees, bloody, dirty, and left with less his valuable things. He slowly stood up shaking and barely able to stand. His sides, legs hurt from the kicks, and his jaw was sore from the beating they had given him. His clothes were also torn, bloodied and dirty in some places. He got lucky this time. They could have killed him, but they must've felt satisfied enough not to do anything to rash. John grabbed his bag with a shaky grip and slowly limped his way down the road.


    His stomach growled as he walked along the poorly made road. He was hungry, but had already had his food stolen. Not to mention how tired he was from the savage beating he had just experienced. That pissed him off. Raiders thinking they can do whatever they please when they please. Not only that they had stilen his prized possession. Now he was stuck in the middle of nowhere with a backpack that had his broken knife in it. He also had bow fashioned from the trees from around here and some cotton string, but the raiders had broken that in two, so he left the quiver and arrows with it. All he could do now was head to the nearest outpost and get his head together first.

    The post was edited 1 time, last by ultimatum ().

  • [fancypost borderwidth=0pt; font-size: 11px; font-family: georgia; text-align: justify; width: 360px;]@forever- i honestly love that idea! lani is such a motherly type, a little kid would be perfect for her! i was thinking that southrun might get threatened or force the group to flee at some point, so just keep that in mind. though i'm sure that would still work out just fine


    [fancypost bgcolor=; border:none; background:url(http://orig10.deviantart.net/7…by_nuriko_kun-d38gh3l.jpg); height:338px; width:135px; background-position: center; background-size:cover;][/fancypost] [fancypost bgcolor=white; border:none; width:280px; height:20px; padding: 8px; margin-left:-1px;]Lani Emmerton[/fancypost]
    [fancypost bgcolor=white; border:none; width:280px; height:245px; overflow: hidden; padding: 8px; margin-left:-1px;][fancypost bgcolor=; margin-top:0px; border:none; height: 240px; width: inherit; padding: 0px; overflow: auto; padding-right: 35px;][fancypost bgcolor=; border:none; height: inherit; width: inherit; padding: 0px; text-align: justify; color: black; font-size: 7pt; line-height: 11px;]
    In the midst of hearing something about semi-bionic photoreceptors or something or other, Lani noticed a familiar face approach the bar. Lani turned to smile at the woman's presence. It had been a while since Shari had payed a visit. Though the expression on her visitor's face touched Lani's spirit in a way that made her stifle her cheer for a moment. "Had a rough one Shari?" the woman asked genuinely, though trying not to be too intrusive. It wasn't her place to intrude, but making her customers comfortable was a personal standard. Shari was an independent, and Lani respected her for that. In fact, she admired her for it.




    Turning to the taps, Lani crafted the House Classic, a favorite to many. "You know I hear the scouts are coming back today." she remarked. "You should stick around awhile. You knew a few from Southrun, didn't you?" The copper-haired woman presented the drink before Shari. She was liberal with the Tequila on this one. She looked like she needed it.
    [/fancypost][/fancypost][/fancypost]
    [fancypost bgcolor=#F5DA81; border:none; width:266px; height:43px; margin-top:-2px; text-align:center; color:black; line-height:30px; font-family:garamond; text-shadow: 3px 1px 2px black; letter-spacing: 4px; margin-left:-1px]


    holding onto the simple things

    [/fancypost]
    [fancypost bgcolor=; border:none; font-family:garamond; width:266px; color:black; text-align:justify; margin-top:-31px; text-shadow: 3px 1px 2px black; letter-spacing: 4px;]

    before they disappear

    [/fancypost]


    [fancypost bgcolor=; border:none; font-family:times new roman; text-align:center; font-size:3pt; margin-top:-30px;][/fancypost]


    [fancypost bgcolor=; border:none; background:url(http://orig06.deviantart.net/b…by_nuriko_kun-d33lv2z.jpg); height:338px; width:135px; background-position: center; background-size:cover;][/fancypost] [fancypost bgcolor=white; border:none; width:280px; height:20px; padding: 8px; margin-left:-1px;][font=georgia]Aurin Frasier

    [/fancypost]
    [fancypost bgcolor=white; border:none; width:280px; height:245px; overflow: hidden; padding: 8px; margin-left:-1px;][fancypost bgcolor=; margin-top:0px; border:none; height: 240px; width: inherit; padding: 0px; overflow: auto; padding-right: 35px;][fancypost bgcolor=; border:none; height: inherit; width: inherit; padding: 0px; text-align: justify; color: black; font-size: 7pt; line-height: 11px;]
    The piece of scrap metal began to feel heavy in Aurin's grasp. Dense and rather odd-shaped, it wasn't the most wieldy of things. If it had been in the rough shape of a walking stick, that would be one thing, but instead his treasure fanned out like a wing or a giant shield. Thoughts of what it's use might have been before the great war floated around Aurin's mind. Maybe it was a wing. Maybe it was armor for a military vehicle, or the roof to a family's safety bunker. Regardless, it would sure get him a pretty penny once he made it to a Townpost. Metal was always in high demand.




    Aurin gazed up at the smoking plume of the city as he approached. It was even more breathtaking up close. "Well..." he sighed to himself, eyes tracing each charcoal-coated building before him. It wouldn't be pretty, but someone had to do it.




    But as Aurin was about to search the scape, a change in the atmosphere grappled him. Was that... footsteps? The young man turned to find a bulky figure lumbering across the landscape not too far away. His eyes lit up with the prospect of survivors. With a hand in the air, Aurin flagged down the individual, but it seemed that whoever it was had already saw him. As he neared, Aurin noticed that the larger figure was accompanied by another, much smaller body. He couldn't believe his eyes when he saw that the larger figure was nothing other than a horse.




    "Beautiful creature you have there," he complimented as the other boy came near. He didn't look too much younger than Aurin, which didn't surprise him. These days, young people were about as common as a cloudy day. Folks just didn't live long anymore. Sixty or seventy if you were lucky. The threat of raiders made anything past that a mere fantasy.




    Aurin noticed a strange object held in the boy's hands. As he neared, it was pretty evident that whatever it was has the guy in chains. Aurin dropped the chunk of metal and drew a knife from his pocket. "Here, let me help you with that" he offered. This wasn't exactly his idea of 'saving people', but hey: technically this guy was in trouble. And goddamnit he was going to save him. With a quick slice of the blade, Aurin had him freed. "There you go. The name's Aurin Frasier, scout for the Halcrest Ranger Regiment." Aurin held out a hand as a sign of friendliness.
    [/fancypost][/fancypost][/fancypost]
    [fancypost bgcolor=#B1C9DF; border:none; width:266px; height:43px; margin-top:-2px; text-align:center; color:black; line-height:30px; font-family:garamond; text-shadow: 3px 1px 2px black; letter-spacing: 4px; margin-left:-1px]
    [align=center]carry me home to your house
    [/fancypost]
    [fancypost bgcolor=; border:none; font-family:garamond; width:266px; color:black; text-align:justify; margin-top:-31px; text-shadow: 3px 1px 2px black; letter-spacing: 4px;][align=center]of broken bones
    [/fancypost]


    [fancypost bgcolor=; border:none; font-family:times new roman; text-align:center; font-size:3pt; margin-top:-30px;][/fancypost]

    The post was edited 1 time, last by Sar ().

  • [align=center]

    [fancypost bgcolor=#a4baa2; border:none; width:10px; height:300px; margin-right:-5px;][/fancypost] [fancypost bgcolor=#5f905b;margin-right:-30px; border-top: none; border-bottom: none; border-left: none; border-right: none; width:1px; height:300px;][/fancypost] [fancypost bgcolor=transparent;border:none; width: 200px; height:300px;background:url(http://i65.tinypic.com/2cfrvw8.jpg) center; background-size:cover;][/fancypost] [fancypost bgcolor=#5f905b;margin-left:-5px; border-top: none; border-bottom: none; border-left: none; border-right: none; width:1px; height:300px;][/fancypost] [fancypost bgcolor=#a4baa2; border:2px solid #4a6b47; width:250px; height:296px; margin-left:-30px;][fancypost bgcolor=transparent; border:none; width:200px; height:auto; text-align:right; font-size:30px; color:#5f905b; margin-top:-5px;][shadow=black,right]PINWICK RASHIRI[/fancypost]
    [fancypost bgcolor=transparent; border:none; width:230px; height:230px; overflow:auto; text-align:justify; color:black; font-size:8pt; line-height:100%; padding:10px;] Pinwick stopped in front of the man, his fingers together in front of him. The man started to speak, but Pinwick didn’t listen. His eyes focused in on the clunky piece of metal in the man’s hand. It wouldn’t fit into his bag, but it would certainly be a nice treasure. A bit large, but probably not too heavy. Pinwick was about to ask the man if he could have the metal when fingers suddenly broke apart. Pinwick stumbled back in surprise as his hands flew apart from the tension he hadn’t realized he had built. His mouth parted as he looked up at the man in shock. Pinwick didn’t know how he was supposed to react. He was angry. Shouldn’t the man have asked before he broke Pinwick’s newest find? The man seemed pleased with himself. Rude.
    A moment later the man introduced himself as “Aurin Frasier, scout for the Halcrest Ranger Regiment”. Pinwick didn’t understand what any of the words meant. He nodded, as he knew he was supposed to do when he heard something he was supposed to acknowledge. The man held out his hand expectantly. Pinwick tilted his head and felt he should do something. Well, he didn’t want the finger trap anymore, now that it was ruined. Pinwick easily slipped off the two broken pieces and put them in his right hand. It was worthless now and he didn't want it. He looked up at the man and took a couple steps forward, then pressed the two pieces into the man's hand and let go. He could have them.
    Pinwick suddenly recalled what the man said earlier. He had heard it after all, he supposed.[b] "Her name is Lorenzo."
    Pinwick said. He nodded. Yes. That was the appropriate response to an introduction.







    [/fancypost][/fancypost]
  • [font=century gothic][color=beige]// resaren thank you!! I'll create him probably tomorrow evening! I'm pretty pumped for this one <3



    //With Lani's inquiry, the soldier had to fight the instinct to snap back a response. Heaving a sigh, Shari leaned forward on her forearms and looked the bartender in the eyes, "I'll just say, others had it rougher than me." The view of her friend's corpse laying on the ground at her feet flashed through her mind. Mentally shaking it off, she knew it would pass eventually. It always did. In the end, it was Shari's fault for making a friend in the first place, knowing she was an independant soldier and that if someone died, it couldn't be left to hang on the conscious. Acquaintances and familiar faces were all she needed as long as she could continue to serve the remaining townposts, protecting the civilians and shining hope for the survivors of the war.
    Waiting for her drink, Shari was about to ask for the latest gossip - whereas it's good to know about the going-ons of the most popular townposts - when the copper-haired bartender beat her to the punch. "Scouts, eh?" A distant look glossed over Shari's eyes as she looked over to the door, reiterating her previous plans to herself, deciding between the pros and the cons. Having decided earlier to move on to the next townpost in search of the mercenary camps that always seemed to be found littered everywhere in between, the blonde adult thought of the last time she caught up with the scouts of Southrun. Remembering a few of the funny tales, it was a rare occasion that Shari was ever made to genuinely laugh and the woman found herself longing for a time such as that once again. Shaking her head a bit, little blonde strands of her hair flowed behind her movements like a beautifully choreographed dance, always set one step delayed. Green eyes looking back to Lani, she nodded her approval once and said with a surprising amount of enthusiasm, "I'll take the best room you got. We'll have to make a night out of this one." With a good-natured wink, Shari took the House Classic from the bartender with a grin of appreciation only Lani's concoctions could draw out of her. Shari's face scrunched up with her first swig and shot a look at the woman behind the bar. "We wouldn't keep coming around if you didn't know what the hell you were doing." A large swallow of the potent drink ensued and the grin returned to the soldier's scarred face.

  • [fancypost bgcolor=; border:none; background:url(http://orig10.deviantart.net/7…by_nuriko_kun-d38gh3l.jpg); height:338px; width:135px; background-position: center; background-size:cover;][/fancypost] [fancypost bgcolor=white; border:none; width:280px; height:20px; padding: 8px; margin-left:-1px;]Lani Emmerton[/fancypost]
    [fancypost bgcolor=white; border:none; width:280px; height:245px; overflow: hidden; padding: 8px; margin-left:-1px;][fancypost bgcolor=; margin-top:0px; border:none; height: 240px; width: inherit; padding: 0px; overflow: auto; padding-right: 35px;][fancypost bgcolor=; border:none; height: inherit; width: inherit; padding: 0px; text-align: justify; color: black; font-size: 7pt; line-height: 11px;]
    The bartender's face brightened at the words of the soldier. "That's what I like to hear!" Lani said with a grin and a light to of the pitcher in her hand. The woman turned back to the taps to fill the next two orders she had waiting, but never broke conversation. Lani loved talking."It's always good to have more folk around here, especially from out of town. Livens the place up a bit." Lani felt her heart touched by the young soldier's compliment. It wasn't the first time she'd been praised for her work, oh, far from it. But she never grew tired of the feeling. Making someone's day, making people happy in such a chaotic world was all the strength Lani needed.




    "Well, it's thanks to you soldiers that this old place is still standing." she admitted with a faint smile. "We've seen a lot of hardships in the past few years- Southrun, I mean. What with the little rainfall and raiders choking our trade routes, I'm amazed we've toughed it out this far. But that shows you what sort of a community we are. We're strong. Like family. I couldn't imagine a life outside little Southie..." Slender fingers running along the glossy counter-top, the woman appeared almost lost in thought for a moment. It took two calls from the stout, bearded man for her to snap out of it. "Y-Yes! Be right there, sir!" she piped as she skirted around the counter to deliver the man's drinks, apologizing profusely with her peppery smile that was too sweet to resist.




    As she passed the counter once more Lani noticed a small ruckus growing by the door. A handful of people crowded to get out into the street. She turned to the window and smiled. The scouts must be back. Each Townpost still standing owed its thanks to those brave men and women, and Southrun was fortunate enough to have a great number of them. Scouts sought out resources and unexplored lands, defended the Townpost in times of need, and generally kept the peace about the place. They were heroes, and Lani was happy to serve them any day. The woman watched the streets from the window across the bar, looking to see the crowd as they pass, but was suddenly struck with concern. Something wasn't right.




    Without a word, Lani bolted to the door. Worming her way through the door, the woman made her way to the small crowd that lined the streets. It was the scouts alright. But instead of the usual bundles of food, materials, and other nicknacks, the lot came through the streets near empty-handed. Many of them bore ghastly cuts and bruises. Bodies bandaged, faces scarred and expressions all like blank slates. Lani counted them. Her heart sunk. Their numbers didn't add up either.
    [/fancypost][/fancypost][/fancypost]
    [fancypost bgcolor=#F5DA81; border:none; width:266px; height:43px; margin-top:-2px; text-align:center; color:black; line-height:30px; font-family:garamond; text-shadow: 3px 1px 2px black; letter-spacing: 4px; margin-left:-1px]


    holding onto the simple things

    [/fancypost]
    [fancypost bgcolor=; border:none; font-family:garamond; width:266px; color:black; text-align:justify; margin-top:-31px; text-shadow: 3px 1px 2px black; letter-spacing: 4px;]

    before they disappear

    [/fancypost]


    [fancypost bgcolor=; border:none; font-family:times new roman; text-align:center; font-size:3pt; margin-top:-30px;][/fancypost]



    [mergedate]1484166964[/mergedate]

    [fancypost bgcolor=; border:none; background:url(http://orig06.deviantart.net/b…by_nuriko_kun-d33lv2z.jpg); height:338px; width:135px; background-position: center; background-size:cover;][/fancypost] [fancypost bgcolor=white; border:none; width:280px; height:20px; padding: 8px; margin-left:-1px;]Aurin Frasier[/fancypost]
    [fancypost bgcolor=white; border:none; width:280px; height:245px; overflow: hidden; padding: 8px; margin-left:-1px;][fancypost bgcolor=; margin-top:0px; border:none; height: 240px; width: inherit; padding: 0px; overflow: auto; padding-right: 35px;][fancypost bgcolor=; border:none; height: inherit; width: inherit; padding: 0px; text-align: justify; color: black; font-size: 7pt; line-height: 11px;]
    A strange look crossed Aurin's face, and he shifted restlessly where he stood. This guy didn't seem to have listened to a word he said. It bothered him some, but by the looks of the other boy, the kid probably wasn't all right in the head. He didn't seem injured or anything, that was good. Aurin figured he was just dazed or dehydrated from spending so long on the road.




    The dark-haired soldier looked down at the broken pieces of paper in his hand, not quite sure what to do with them. "Um... thanks?"




    He simply nodded at the boy's introduction. Lorenzo? Had he heard correctly? And was that him, or the horse? Who names a girl horse Lorenzo? Shaking his head, Aurin pushed those questions aside for later. Right now, he had to get this guy- whoever he was- to safety. Turning to the ruins of Bellwether, Aurin cursed under his breath. "I have to go check for others in the ruin, but as soon as I scout the place, I'll take you to safety in Southrun." he promised. Gesturing to follow, Aurin proceeded on toward the ruins. That seemed fair, right? He could make this work. Juggling the kid along with any others he found couldn't be too bad. The horse might even be helpful in carrying out any survivors.
    [/fancypost][/fancypost][/fancypost]
    [fancypost bgcolor=#B1C9DF; border:none; width:266px; height:43px; margin-top:-2px; text-align:center; color:black; line-height:30px; font-family:garamond; text-shadow: 3px 1px 2px black; letter-spacing: 4px; margin-left:-1px]
    [align=center]carry me home to your house
    [/fancypost]
    [fancypost bgcolor=; border:none; font-family:garamond; width:266px; color:black; text-align:justify; margin-top:-31px; text-shadow: 3px 1px 2px black; letter-spacing: 4px;][align=center]of broken bones
    [/fancypost]


    [fancypost bgcolor=; border:none; font-family:times new roman; text-align:center; font-size:3pt; margin-top:-30px;][/fancypost]

    The post was edited 1 time, last by Sar ().

  • The dirt came out of John's boots in big, tan clumps. He sat on the right side of the dirt road, shaking his boots out. He slammed them on the ground to get whatever was left behind and finally put his boots back on. John grunted as he slowly stood up, pian shooting up his sides, and in his groin. He shifted uneasily as he started his limp down the road once again. John looked up to the sun, his arm resting on his head, as he shuffled his feet forward. He wandered and wandered aimlessly until by utter luck he saw traces of smoke litter the sky. That had to have meant someone was hanging around out here, but that smoke seemed an awful long ways away. Not only that it could just be raiders, and John definitely didn't want to deal with that another time. All he could do really was to make a slow approach, plus it still looked like it was a mile or two away, so he would have much time to consider what to do when he got there.


    As John continued his crusade towards the smoke, he felt his parched and bloodied lips. He would need water soon or he would die of dehydration. The torn bandages made of his own shirt were starting to sting too which didn't help his situation either. His face was smeared on his left side with dried up blood and cuts. If only he could get to where he wanted to faster.

  • [align=center]

    [fancypost bgcolor=#a4baa2; border:none; width:10px; height:300px; margin-right:-5px;][/fancypost] [fancypost bgcolor=#5f905b;margin-right:-30px; border-top: none; border-bottom: none; border-left: none; border-right: none; width:1px; height:300px;][/fancypost] [fancypost bgcolor=transparent;border:none; width: 200px; height:300px;background:url(http://i65.tinypic.com/2cfrvw8.jpg) center; background-size:cover;][/fancypost] [fancypost bgcolor=#5f905b;margin-left:-5px; border-top: none; border-bottom: none; border-left: none; border-right: none; width:1px; height:300px;][/fancypost] [fancypost bgcolor=#a4baa2; border:2px solid #4a6b47; width:250px; height:296px; margin-left:-30px;][fancypost bgcolor=transparent; border:none; width:200px; height:auto; text-align:right; font-size:30px; color:#5f905b; margin-top:-5px;][b][shadow=black,right]PINWICK RASHIRI[/fancypost]
    [fancypost bgcolor=transparent; border:none; width:230px; height:230px; overflow:auto; text-align:justify; color:black; font-size:8pt; line-height:100%; padding:10px;]
    Pinwick followed with his eyes as the man and turned and approached the ruins. Strange. He turned to look at Lorenzo, who had already slowly started to follow the man. Pinwick shrugged to himself, then followed the mare. There was eerie silence as Pinwick started to catch up to the man. He felt as if he should say something, but it wasn’t as easy as it was to talk to Lorenzo. He didn’t know what was appropriate to say either. What was he scouting for?
    “What is Southrun?” Pinwick heard himself say, just loud enough for the man to hear. He was curious, he hadn’t heard the word before. It must be a place. Maybe he would find an adventure after all. He glanced at Lorenzo, but the horse didn’t acknowledge his words. Before the man had a chance to respond, Pinwick noticed something off in the distance. Someone off in the distance. They were moving slowly and unnaturally. Pinwick stopped and pointed.
    Pinwick realized after a moment that Lorenzo and the man were continuing to walk and their backs were to him. “Look.” He said simply to draw the man’s attention to the hazy figure in the distance. It was approaching them, well, approaching the ruins, rather. Pinwick wondered why someone would visit. No one came by anymore.
    [/fancypost][/fancypost]
  • Eyes closed with another content sip of the strong beverage Lani whipped up for her, almost before she even had time to open them again Shari noticed that the bartender had bustled her way to the door. Also hearing the commotion that began to intensify outside, the blonde soldier stayed on her barstool. If she were meant to be involved then the excitement would come to her. The only excitement that the woman sought after was the killing kind. Hand wrapped around the stout whiskey glass, Shari's curiosity grew but was determined to wait until her bartender came back and gave her the scoop.


    // I apologize; low muse




    Sitting on the top step of the old, beautifully intricate wooden stairway that led up to the few rooms that they rent out, the boy moped. Elbows resting on his knees as he swayed them gently back and forth, Unatro was the epitome of the boredom of a young child, as if it were a rainy day and his mother had told him that he wasn't allowed outside. As this wasn't the case, the young boy was simply lonely. The majority of the drunkards in the place were soldiers, scouts, and perhaps an unrecognized raider looking for a drink. The few citizens that did come, as some were regulars, didn't often bring children. This left Unatro to find his own amusement, which usually involved pranking the people in the bar; however, his mother's temper could run short if she caught him running around the tavern too many times seeing as mischief followed in his wake.


  • Aurin Frasier
    ___________________________________
    carry me home
    to your house of broken bones
    ___________


    "What is Southrun? the scout repeated. Boy, this kid sure must be far from home if he'd never heard of Southrun. "Southrun is a town just south of here. They've got a good market with fuel, and a couple smithys, too. But... they've got this tavern that really puts them on the map." Aurin paused, momentarily lost in thought before adding, "You should be able to find some work there. Or a place to stay awhile, at least."


    Aurin suddenly noticed that his two rescuees suddenly turned into one. Peering over the old horse, Aurin followed the boy's finger off into the distance. "Crikos! Another survivor!" he exclaimed, bolting off track yet again. The closer he came to the man, the more battered his poor body seemed to be. Aurin took it upon himself to brace the man with his free arm. Slipping his canteen off his arm, the scout unscrewed it and handed it off to the man. "Here, drink up" he spoke, trying to support the man in a way that made for the least amount of discomfort. "Southrun is just a mile or so off. We'll get you fixed up there."


    Turning back to the boy and his horse, Aurin beckoned him over. "Lorenzo! Bring your horse over!" Maybe with all three of them, they could hoist the injured man up onto its back.

    The post was edited 5 times, last by resaren ().


  • Lani Emmerton
    _______________________
    holding onto the simple things
    before they disappear
    ____________


    Lani tried forcing her way through the masses of people, but they were all very good at forcing back. Eventually she caught the face of a man very familiar to her. "Breigan! Sergeant Breigan!" the woman shouted, arms waving about. Breigan caught her eye, and Lani could see the pain in his gaze. Among the chaos that swirled around them, Breigan seemed to move in slow motion. One arm was slung in a makeshift cast, and scars and scratches marred his whole body. The man looked tired. Defeated. He nodded as she gestured for him to come inside.


    Hurrying back to the counter, Lani rushed to find some cloths and pot for cold water. Sergeant Morick Breigan eased his way onto the seat just one down from the blonde soldier at the counter. Turning to the woman, Breigan nodded her way. "Soldier. - Ah, thank you, Lani." He turned to the bartender as she gently tended to his wounds. Lani only replied with a light sigh and a look of worry. She hated it when her solders went off and came back to her like this. It made her heartbreak to see such broken people and spirits alike. She already had one little rascal to worry about- she didn't need an army full.


    Suddenly it dawned on Lani that her little one had been awfully quiet for the past hour or so. Scanning the upper balcony, the woman called to her son, "Unatro, where are you? I need you to go get me the iodine upstairs, ok hun?."

    The post was edited 7 times, last by resaren ().


  • Shari Levv
    [ f e m a l e | | t w e n t y f i v e | | b i s e x u a l | | s o l d i e r ]

    As the scout stepped into the tavern, Shari recomposed herself and sat with the posture that she was better known for. Giving a nod as the man gave her a polite greeting, the blonde soldier said, "Sergeant. Rough day?" Shari inquired, much in the same way Lani had earlier. The scarred woman looked on with a soft gaze so as not to rudely stare, and admired the bartender's work of cleaning up the scout. Shari had just began to wonder why the little devil wasn't out terrorizing people as they relaxed at the bar, when Lani beckoned him. Turning back to the bar, she swallowed down the rest of her drink. Lani always seemed to notice an empty glass and Shari relied on that statistic to save her from rudely asking for a drink while the woman was busy. 'She'll get around to it. S'not my turn yet, anyhow.'


    // With what I hope is a reasonable low muse




    Unatro Emmerton
    [ m a l e | | n i n e | | s t r a i g h t | | s o u t h r u n c i t i z e n ]

    At hearing his mother's call, Unatro stood and ran to the small bathroom the held a single toilet, and a small sink with a cabinet mirror hanging above it. Retrieving the step stool with a huff and standing at the top, the orange-haired child reached to the highest shelf and grabbed for the distinctive glass bottle with the dark orange liquid inside. Having brought it many times, the child obediently ran back downstairs and presented the bottle to Lani. Eyeing the man on the stool, Unatro grimaced at all the wounds that covered the scouts body. "Ew, that looks gross. Did you lose a fight?" Showing no restraint, the boy hopped up on a stool next to the man, on the opposite side Shari was on, as if he were waiting for a story.


  • Lani Emmerton
    _______________________
    holding onto the simple things
    before they disappear
    ____________


    Lani continued to dab at the man's cuts. There weren't many, but the ones he had were deep. Her eyes flickered down to his arm and the shoddy cast that encased it. A heavy sigh escaped her lips. Oh, and she hadn't even begun with the arm...


    Hearing the sound of running feet, Lani shook her head in spite of herself. She new those noisy little feet anywhere. "Uni, how many times do I have to tell you- no running!" The bar wasn't always this quiet. Certainly the place grew more loud and lively come evening. In fact, the volume was downright deafening on some nights. But at this time? You could practically hear a pin hit the floor. The pounding feet resonated like thunder throughout the tavern, but her little helper came quick, and he came prepared. Lani accepted the bottle from him gratefully.


    Turning back to the injured man, Lani gingerly applied the disinfectant. Breigan wasn't one to lose heart so easily. Lani was about to ask a question- a real gem from her little arsenal of questions she turned to as a bartender. But Unatro beat her to it. The child's mouth opened up, and what Lani heard nearly made her choke. "Unatro!" she scolded. Her hand flew to the boy's head, as if it could stop the words that flew from his mouth. She turned him to face her, sending a stare his way that only a mother could manage. She ruffled his hair lightly before turning to the Sergeant. "I am so sorry. He didn't mean-"


    But Sergeant Breigan only chuckled. To Shari's question he nodded. "Mmm, rough indeed, soldier" he spoke solemnly, though a trace of optimism still struggled somewhere in his voice. "More bandits have just advanced from the East. It seems that Southrun trade routes are becoming more and more constricted as the days go by. However, we did find a new deposit of pre-war wreckage out near the deserts. There weren't enough tools on hand to excavate, so we'll have to make another trip out come the end of the week. We ran into a bit of trouble coming back though... Unfortunately, we lost five good men last night..." Breigan took a moment of reflection, before turning to the bartender with a faint smile. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be speaking such things, especially beside the young ones."


    Turning to the bold beside him, Breigan directed his attention to his fellow soldier. "Remind me, Shari," the Sergeant said with a more chipper tone. "What town do you call home? Where do you station? I've seen you nearly everywhere at one point or another. I'm afraid I've forgotten."

    The post was edited 3 times, last by resaren ().

  • [center][fancypost=borderwidth=0px; width: 400px; text-align: justify;][font=trebuchet ms]
    @forever- you're completely fine! don't even worry about it
    please bear with my monstrous post just then
    low-muse and ungodly muse happen. we're human


    ooops.... just realized lani COMLPETELY missed shari's drink....... eh, whatever, she can't help it. its totally in her character anyway lol


    AND I LOVE UNATRO! a little ball of mischief is PERFECT! exactly the type of rascal i imagined lani having!


  • Shari Levv
    [ f e m a l e | | t w e n t y f i v e | | b i s e x u a l | | s o l d i e r ]


    Looking back down to her glass, Shari also took a second for the lost scouts. Once again realizing her drink had been downed a little while ago, Shari's green gaze traveled to Lani and she spoke with a joking tone, "Come on, Lani. I don't bless you with my good company so my glass can dry up." With a small smile, she just wanted to poke some fun and figured the bartender would get her another drink when she finished up with Breigan anyway. Unatro zipped into the room, fulfilling his duty, and added to his splendid reputation with his child-like stupidity. With a snort, Shari simply shook her head slowly, smirking. Turning to the Sergeant as he addressed her, Shari offered a small chuckle and replied honestly, "Well, to tell you the truth Breigan, I don't remember the last time I called a place 'home'. When I was young I was raised in Campbell Point, but that townpost has long since fallen to ruins, as you know. Since becoming a soldier, I've been something of a gypsy." Sending a wink Lani's way, the blonde woman continued, "This tavern hasn't seen the end of me yet, and it won't any time soon. Southrun has really been put on the map lately."


    Unatro Emmerton
    [ m a l e | | e i g h t | | s t r a i g h t | | s o u t h r u n c i t i z e n ]


    Unatro instinctively flinched away when his mother's hand flew to his head. He patted his hair back down forcefully after she ruffled it and then looked back at the scout. When the man addressed Shari, the boy gave a dramatic sigh and hopped down off the stool, disappointed. Figuring he wasn't going to get a story this early in the day, the fire-haired boy galloped over to the doorway of the tavern. Peeking outside into the sunny day, Unatro noticed the huge crowd of people have dispersed and the scouts have probably went to their homes or the armory to get cleaned up before heading back to the tavern to get caught up in the news like they usually did. With a shrug, the boy went back in and looked around the room to find something to amuse himself. Thinking of the girl that lived down a couple roads, Unatro wondered if there was a way that he could convince his mother to allow him to go and get her so they could play, knowing that the walk was a little long.