I raise my flag, don my clothes, it's a revolution I suppose

-- Imagine Dragons, Radioactive

The Lowdown:
no holds barred, free-for-fall roleplay! All I need from you, in your first post, is to fill out the little template down at the end of this, and post it at the bottom of yours; your appearance should be done in your entry, and if you want to embellish on your history, or how you came about this happy little place, you are certainly free to do so. I will try my hardest to post every 72 hours; that said, you may post as many times as you would like, provided you allow for one person to post between yours, and you do post once between each of my posts. I will keep tabs on the thread during the 72 hours I have allotted, so if something happens that I do not approve of, I will be interfering in an attempt to keep the plot on track.

Right now, it may be a little fallout-y, but that's not my intention.

Also, you can know my guy, you can not know him, but you can't be one of the bad guys (though you could be a bad kind of guy).

The Form:
Name (and aliases used):
Approximate Age:
Gender:

wakawakawakawakawakawakawaka~





The drugstore sat on a street corner, overlooking the two main roads through the town. The neon letters, once bright and welcoming, now stood dark and gloomy. Glass from the windows littered the bleached sidewalks, though the bars still held strong. One door, half off its hinges, swayed eerily in the gentle breeze, tap-tap-tapping the bar set to prop it shut. Outside, the sky was clear and the sun was out; the grass was a vibrant green, weeds and flowers bushy with years of neglect.

Outside, no hint of the horror.

The horror had happened only a few years ago. Ten, at most; two at the very least. He knew that much - his body hadn't aged more than at. There was no easy way to track time. Sometimes, the days lasted for longer than they were supposed to, the night sometimes not coming for, well, days; other times, the worst times, it was the opposite. The endless nights, the infinite terror. First, the country had gone dark, and with it, the hooligans and vandals. Then, the government, or what was left of it by the time they got things under control (or didn't, depending on how you look at it), rounded everyone up and put them in camps. "To protect them," they said.

And it did protect them, at first. Then, when the clouds came, it all went to hell. The acid rained down, turning metal to rust, flesh to bone. Those that survived were changed, different, deadly. Most were insane, which accounted for the deadliness. All were pretty much disfigured, though, and that was one of the least scariest bits. The government soon lost whatever battle it raged, and left its people in the camps as it tucked tail and ran. The camps were fairly safe, even after all these years, but the first few months, the learning curve was fairly steep. He lost his family in the first raid (they were on the outskirts, right by the fence), his girl in the eighth. By the tenth, they had lost about a quarter of the population. It took some panicky building, but they finally managed to erect a stable barricade around the perimeter. Since then, they'd been pretty well-off, except the massive die-off a few months back due to lack of rations. That prompted the start of the forays into the towns nearby. They were not without risk, and every now and then, a team wouldn't come back. The roaming fallen had grabbed them.

Aerik (or Anthony Erickson if you want to be particular), was one of the better foragers. He was on the smaller side, having been fifteen, nearing sixteen, when the horror happened, and hadn't had the chance to go through that growthspurt that his older brothers had. He was quick and quiet because of his womanly height, wiry and spry. He could get into the smaller spaces that the other guys couldn't, and he had gotten them out of a few jams with that arm of his; his momma had said that he had talent to go to the Majors one day, but that was long and gone.

Inside the drugstore, anxiously aware of the tap-tap-tapping on the bar, Aerik shoved bags of rice and cans of beans into the rucksack slung low on his left arm, brown eyes hidden behind a fringe of dark hair. This place was untouched by the looters from before the horror, a rare find indeed, and the pickings were good. The other members of his team were off elsewhere, one maybe at the hardware store down the road, or another looting a pantry or the kitchen of one of the diners. They were six days west of their camp, having found a highway and followed it. One of those highway towns. Quickly, he moved down the aisles, making his way toward the small pharmacy. This was the jackpot, he knew; the drugs he could take back to help with the sicknesses or injuries, or other what-have-yous.

Over the counter to the pharmacy he went, listening to the steady tap-tap-tapping of the door.


wakwakwakwakwaaaaaaak o:
Name: Aerik, or Anthony Erickson.
Gender: Masculine
Age: 22ish, probably.

So once there was a young boy who lived in a small town. Had a normal family, a normal education and a normal life. Until something disturbingly abnormal occurred. Well one large body count and a few years of limited human contact later, there was now a young man with a lot of issues (mostly sanity related) and a disturbing penchant for doing distinctly unpleasant things to others (mostly bandits...mostly). A few inches short of six feet, the young man's face had suffered due to the tingly rain that had fallen years ago. Currently wearing a T-shirt and cargo pants with a baseball cap as the man had decided to spend the day walking about his town and collecting supplies.

However as he passed a street corner, the young man heard a noise. Well a few noises if one wanted to be precise about it. There was a door tap-tap-tappin, but there was the sound of some can's going clank-clank-clanggin and even some rice going...whatever noise rice makes when it moves. But the point was clear. Within the confines of that building was an interloper. So smiling a smile that was most unpleasant (he forgot to brush his teeth today okay?), the man would slither and slunk down so a cursory glance outside of the window would not give his presence away. Picking up an empty can on the ground (darn litterbugs), the man would confirm that there was no glass in front of the door (only it's sides) which would make an annoying ting-tingling noise. Deciding to employ his hands instead of the few weapons that he carried on him, the man was now ready to enact his plan.

Giving the can a low toss away from the entrance, the man then slunk through the door and crouched down by the nearest shelf as the can hit the ground and rolled. Knowing the usual reaction to his plan, the interloper would be startled and focus their attention on the noise. Thus they wouldn't focus on the entrance or the fact that it had missed a few bangs as the man entered (that was the plan at least). For now, the man would wait and listen for some more cues that would betray the interloper's position.


Name (and aliases used): Jack Gein
Approximate Age: 20
Gender: Male

A soft chuckled echoed through her small little alley way. A girl, not that large, walked down the alleyway with a back pack strapped to her back. She munched away on some unknown meat, all she knew was it tasted delicious and it was well earned. She didn’t care if she killed to get it, it was food. She was hungry. The end.

Since the world went to shit, so did all her morals. She lied and stole and manipulated to get what she wanted and she never got attached to anything. Once she had thought she got attached to a dog…but then she ate it. She wondered if she even remembered what being in love with something felt like. The last guy she killed, the one she had just stole the food from…she felt she could have had an honest friendship with him had the world not decided to stab her in the back. In a way…she felt as if she killed and lied so much, to get revenge for her little sister…even though it wasn’t anyone’s fault she died, ‘cept maybe the great God above if there was one anymore or maybe he packed his bags and left along with all the sanity in the world.

The small girl couldn’t help but dance around a bit, it was a good day…hell it had been a good week. She had a warm shower, men who bent over backwards for her, she wasn’t hungry or thirsty and best off she got clean clothes! Even if she stole them from the man’s deceased wife. At least he was with his wife now, yes? Of course, dying was a better solution. He wouldn’t have lasted long anyways, trusting every pretty girl that crosses his path. Foolish man.

She couldn’t stop giggling as her teeth pulled at the meat. Her white dress…er…it was more of a sleeping gown, twirled with her body. The hoodie on her back swung out, like a cape as she spun. She stopped though, she heard a noise and like any wild animal, she was attracting to the tap-tap-tapping. Like a fly to light.

A drug store? She approached it slowly, nomming on the meat slowly as she looked around, to see if she could notice anyone. Clanking? Cans? Someone was in there. She grinned and saw some glass scattered around the ground. She picked a piece up and pulled a mirror out of her pocket and began to do…something…weird. She slashed her left cheek, her shoulders, legs and then allowed them to bleed. She dropped the piece of glass and began to allow tears to fall down her cheeks, the saltliness flowing over the cut on her cheek caused her to flinch greatly. She was nuts…it didn’t mean she felt no pain.

She limped inside the store and looked around, whimpering like a dog. “Hello!” She cried out frantically. “Please, is anyone here! I-…I need help.” She began to sob and tripped over a fallen can, landing flat on her face. She didn’t move, she just laid there and wept on the floor. “Help…” She muttered. “I…I just wanted some medicine for my little sister.”

What a good little actress.

SPOILER: Click to show

Artist unknown

Name (and aliases used): Courtney Bell (Tragedy)
Approximate Age: 18
Gender: Female

Sceptre and Crown
Must tumble down,
And in the dust be equal made
With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
~Death the Leveller: James Shirley

---

The Horror didn't discriminate. Both the rich and poor found themselves afflicted by it. It equalled them all.

The Gardios household was well known in the old world, being the head of a large business conglomerate. Though that all changed. True, the family could have fled with the government, but they attempted to aid the populace to the best they could. They got massacred for their trouble. The heir to the family, Gailardia, was the only one to survive. The raiding party had beaten everyone else to death, and piled all the bodies into a corner in their dining room, where they had been enjoying dinner when the attack occurred. They weren't too thorough though, and only knocked Gailardia out. He woke up to find his face pressed up against the cold corpse of the one most dear to him pressed against his face. His kid sister.

Despite being left for dead he, by some miracle, made it to the nearest camp. They didn't question why he was dressed so grand, clad in a scarlet waistcoat, and a shirt with a white cravat. He still had those clothes, even now. Given the crude nature of medicine at the time, he was bedridden for a year. Even then, his right arm was rendered practically unusable, being horribly scarred and disfigured. That is why he kept it under a shawl.

After his recovery he had signed up to join the foraging groups. He gave his name as simply being "Dundun" on account of him being unable to defend what he was responsible for, his family. And that is why he was at the hardware store, rummaging for supplies for maintaining their camp. Despite losing the use of his right arm, he since became proficient with his left. A crowbar attached to his hip bore testament to it, speckles of blood adoring its paint.

"Someone's already been through this place."

Dundun brushed his dark silver locks back. Not much was left in the store.

"I should probably go and see if Aerik or anyone else needs help."

Name: Gailardia Galan Gardios (Dundun)
Gender: Masculine
Age: 30

The can made it through the door just fine; the bars on the door still held their integrity, though they were spaced far enough apart for an old soda can to sail through easily. The racket it made caused Aerik to pause behind the counter. Sensing his time was up, he quickly scurried down the aisles of older medications, shoving in things he thought would be useful; mostly antibiotics, though there were a few oral analgesics, some ointments, and a hardy painkiller or two -- illness was the greatest threat to his camp, and pain was able to be overcome with the mind, and various sterile bandages. 

In the shadows, Aerik was almost invisible; his army fatigues, taken from the stores back at the camp after the soldiers finally left for good, were dark, his combat boots well-oiled and supple, giving into his movements like a well-tuned, secret lover. He was quick, moving on the balls of his feet, using his fingers for balance on the linoleum floors, up toward the front of the counter. The tap-tap-tapping of the door in the wind stopped after the can had entered and made a very different sort of ruckus, alerting Aerik that something was up. His crew would not have done that, he knew, and it was highly unlikely that he had caused a delayed crash. Possible, but not likely.

Then the whimpering came, shortly after the first ruckus, and a large thud sound. He was not alone, he knew that now; at least one other person had entered the store, though he thought maybe more (there was a second break as the door was pulled opened and the girl had slipped inside, but he couldn't be sure). These old stores echoed. Part of him was overjoyed at the thought of bringing people home, bringing more people toward civilization, but the rational part of him warned him to be cautious. Not everyone was a friend, not all camps had survived the way his had.

So he placed his back against the counter, tightened the straps on his bag, now full of hope, and reached for the hilt of his knife; the low whimpering sounds of the girl caused a pang in his heartstrings, and Aerik -- Tony, once upon a time -- felt the insatiable need to console her. He could not move though, not yet. Sally was due back in a moment, and Dun -- Aerik refused to use the moniker the man had given when he arrived to their camp, disliking the sound it carried -- wasn't far off; such a clatter would surely carry over the desolate town...he hoped.

Just what I need...to be cornered by the Fallen....

"Yes, there is nothing left here." Any tools not taken by previous raiding parties were worn and rusted through. Practically useless. He cautiously made his way to the entrance of the store, scouting out the street for signs of anything that had joined them whilst they were in the store.

He was in time to see a female slice herself and crawl in to the shop where young Aerik was. He hadn't observed Jack's entry however. That threat would be a surprise to the man, as he slinked across the road.

The street was desolate, save for the sound of the wind, the gale blowing dust. He held up his cloak with his bad arm to shield his face from the dirt and grit flying through.

Dundun stopped by the entrance of the pharmacy, peering in. There was the girl, but where was Aerik?

Grinning as the heard his prey hurry up upon hearing the can go a clankin, the man knew that he would have to be stealthy until he knew what the interloper's capabilities were. Quietly sneaking from shelf to shelf, the man would take his time so he could pinpoint the interloper's location. Based on the sounds that the interloper had made earlier, the man had a general idea of where his prey was. Taking advantage of his dark clothing, the man crouched in the shadow of one of the shelves so the interloper would have a hard time seeing him even if he was in his line of sight. Grinning as he was about to peek around the shelf and try to size up the interloper, the man put a sudden halt to his plot when a game changer had occurred.

For now, in the front of the store there was now someone who was crying. However if she had expected the young man to provide any help then she would be in for a rude awakening. But the man didn't know how the interloper would act or if there were more of the intruders crawling out of the woodwork. The young man knew for sure that neither interloper could see him from their current position and if either one began to move he should be able to hear them. For now he would have to watch and wait and see if there were any more drastic developments.