Life has drastically changed after wars swept the world. Governments crumbled, infrastructures dismantled, society and culture abandoned. Most cities now lay in ruin, few buildings remain intact, and very little of our former lifestyles remain. But not all survivors of the wars were able to reclaim even a shred of their homes and lives. There are the "Survivors" those who managed to not die from the Pandemic that spread just years after the wars' end. The disease spread fast, possibly from the war, and it was deadly. Those unlucky to catch it suffered severe pain, high fevers, psychotic lapses, and hopefully death. For those who lived through it were never the same, they were mindless, crazed madmen, with a taste for destruction and death.

Despite the destructive wars and viral Survivors, humanity still clung on. Small bands of people stuck together either rebuilding small towns out of the rubble or returning to a more nomadic lifestyle. Old technology is around but hard to find and harder still to find in working order. Most have learned to build and fashion their own weapons and tools. And many still hold on to hope, passing rumors and tales of a hidden treasure. A cache of old technology, medicine, weaponry, anything to either re-build the world or to shape it into any image. Needless to say many people want to find it to use to their purpose, either good, evil, personal, or worldly.

Is it your hope to find it and save humanity and re-build once mighty empires, to steal it and build a world to cater to you? Are you going to sell it to the highest bidder when you find it, or are you simply just following someone else into the treasure hunt?

OOC Thread

Rules and I'm keeping them simple:
Follow the TOS.
Be semi-lit at least.
Post any character sheets over here
and NO VAMPIRES/WEREWOLVES.

PS: Setting is around 40-50 years after the wars. So unless you are like 70, you do not remember the wars.

Characters

Player: ~LONGCAT~
Name: Derryl Tomheart
Sex: Male
Alignment: CN
Appearance:

Description: Gaunt but muscular, keeps his hair short, carries several homemade and a few real daggers on him.
Skills: Can roll anything into a cigarette, fairly accurate at throwing knives, kinda sneaky
Weaknesses: Addicted to tobacco, not very strong, can't run too far without losing his breath
Background: Derryl has worked for a number of people as a kill-for-hire. While people vied for power and control of the scattered landscape, he helped others climb their power ladders by killing their competition. He's mostly been wandering since his last job, looking to get money and any tobacco available.
Personality: Very blasé about most things. Quick to anger when out of cigarettes. Doesn't seem like the leader type, but will argue when confronted but someone he doesn't feel is fit to lead.
Extra: Has the habit of picking up old cigarette butts on the floor and tearing them apart to salvage any usable tobacco.

Player: Mayor Mahyem
Name: Alexei Schmidt
Sex: Male
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
Appearance:
Description: Alexei has a long, lean figure that is fit with decent muscle-tone, though he not over-muscular by any means. He has stringy, blond hair that comes to his shoulders, and piercing light-blue eyes. He carries any weapons he may find or create, though has taken a liking to smaller bladed weapons that he can easily conceal.
Skills: A survivalist at heart and good at salvaging things that he sees as being useful in some way. Has a great sense of direction, is a decent runner, and is fairly good at sneaking away when he needs to. Also very crafty and creative, if not simply manipulative and deceitful.
Weaknesses: Arrogant, self-centered, and sometimes can be close-minded. Can be over-aggressive at times, and is fairly cynical of the world in some regards. He's stubborn, and when he sets his mind to something, it's hard- if not impossible- to stop him. He can be very hard for others to trust. He also seems very uncomfortable going deep underground, weather it be a cave, building, or what have you.
Background: Grew up in a family of mercenaries. Although he tried his trade as a mercenary, he soon found life to be much easier to simply become a raider and steal whatever it was he needed. Since his older teen years, he's been in and out of gangs, and was even the leader of a few. Now at the age of 23, Alexi continues to roam the world as a raider, scavenger, and all-around thief. He does so alone, finding along the way that flying solo was usually in his best interest; namely with the 'pandemic' around.
Personality: Alexei is a survivor, first and foremost. Cold, calculating, and devious when he needs to be, he seldom has sympathy for anyone he comes across and rarely feels anything to kill someone if he has to. To him, the world's fair-game, and everything's up for the taking. He lives in the moment, and could care less for how the world came to be, or any of the stories old people ramble on about the war. He can be hot-headed at times when something hits a nerve, and aggressive towards obtaining whatever it is he might want at that moment. He's found that he can play the part of both a follower and leader- whichever might be more productive at the moment- yet tries his best to stray from such roles, finding much more comfort and satisfaction in sticking by himself and to his own set of wayward rules.
Extra: Also displays traits of the Neutral Evil category. He's very creative and tends to makeshift a lot of his own tools and weapons out of random junk he finds, though he won't stray from using a good dagger if he might be so lucky to come across one.

Player: Emiko_firecaster
Name: Veravel
Sex: female
Alignment: Chaotic good
Appearance: click for larger pic:
Description: ((her ears are normal)) tall at 6 1/2 feet, uses two twin machettes as weapons, greenish blue eyes, normally wears cowboy hat.
Skills: Very good with bladed weapons, can fight hand to hand
Weaknesses: has trouble killing infected kids
Background: attack on previous settlement has left her with emotional scars, is about 25 years old, dislikes having to be on the run often, has lived in whats left of the forest in the north.
Personality: collected, perfers to keep silent, doesnt like to be constrained, can lead or follow, just don't get in her way
Extra: found the machettes in her settlement. likes to use them as they match her fighting style best. doesn't trust guys that much perfering the company of other females.

Player: TheOriginalPyro
Name: Chris
Sex: Male
Allignment: CE
Description: Generally where's a long dark coat, black jeans and boots. Long black hair with a white streak, tall and skinny but strong and with a good mind for melée or hand to hand combat, knives, blunt objects etc.
Skills: A life as an arsenist ensuing the wars has left him with a vast knowledge of combustibles and flammables. Chris can make a bomb from almost anything, whether it explodes or makes fire, he can make it. Made a small living selling explosives to criminals.
Weakness: Was infected with tetanus which is slowly killing the muscle tissue in his leg and spreading up, inevitably killing him. He wants to create as much fear and chaos as he can with what little time he has.
Background: Orphaned at a young age in suburban he'll that was his home, he turned to violence and pain to fill his time. He found a journal that contained recipes for bombs which he has now added to, hoping to give it to a successor to continue to bring he'll to the survivors. He doesn't want power, he wants to upset what is left of the social order and show people what is truly inside the darkest part of a mans soul.
Personality: Generally quiet and doesn't like to talk to people but has a habit of senselessly killing or injuring people for fun. Aside from the journal he also found a book of Batman, which has allowed him to take inspiration from The Joker.
Extra: with the inevitability of his death, he wants to find someone who wants the same thing as himself so that he nay bring a new terror to the people.

Player:LucienSlade
Character name: Kayla Ross
Sex: Female
Skin color:Tan
Alignment:NE
Height: 5'9
Weight:145
Age:18
Description:Kayla wears her hair in braids, her clothes are made from animal furs; consisting of a deerskin tunic, and a skirt made from a german shepherd hide; she personally killed it. Her feet are usually covered with old tan tennis shoes, scavenged by her within the wastes. She carries several short spears wherever she roams, along with a hunting knife, several feet of rope, a small tent, 10 water bottles, 3 lunch box's containing meal sized rations, and a backpack filled with other survival related items. Her body is well toned from a harsh life of scavengeing, stealing, and sometimes robbery. One other noticeable object is a thread woven pendent made of a red rock. Many would say she is attractive in a sort of wild way, her smooth gaunt face, and beutiful brown eyes, hide the heart of a deceiver.

Bio:She had been born in the village of Array, nestled in the remains of an old solar panel powered recycling factory. Conditions were becoming cramped, her people voted her out of the building at the age of 15. Trade and deception are the people of Array's trade mark, since any metal scrap sold to them would be used to make melee weapons and armor, a few chicken's were no expense in her families book. She hadn't been given an objective, only a condition upon her return, she must bring back something worthwhile; be it knowledge or material in form. Now she wanders the waste's enjoying her newfound freedom, to use her people's craftsmenship to full effect. Although she is quite mischievous, she has yet to kill another being; there is no hesitation in taking from the unprepared.

Originally Posted by Kilik

Player: Kilik
Name: Kaladin
Sex: Male
Alignment: Lawful Good
Appearance:
Description: Average height, a muscular built but in an athletic, lean way. He has goggles that protect his eyes from the relentless sun and biting sand/dust/debris. He wears black plain t-shirt, and a worn out old coat for the cold nights and winter weather.
Skills: Agile and fast, he has a knack of responding quickly to situations.
Weaknesses: A wound to his left leg that healed improperly over time. Although he can manage quick bursts of sprints, he can't run long distances, and he can't walk too far without it starting to pain him.
Background: Lost his loved ones at a young age due to the pandemic. Was an orphan by age seven, and he was found by an elderly man who lived in a nearby village. As Kaladin grew up with the man, he learned that, no matter the state the world is in at the moment, all a man needs is hope. Because if one has hope, he can spread it. As the old man lay on his deathbed when Kaladin was seventeen, he gave the youth a valuable gift - a rusty sword that existed before the war. Before the man slipped into eternal slumber, Kaladin promised that the next time they meet, the world will once again flourish.
Personality: A kind and understanding guy, but more importantly, caring. Strong-willed and determined.
Extra: The sword is a typical, steel long sword once belonged to a museum that contained historical weapons.

Player: Nimka
Name: Ava
Sex: Female
Alignment: Neutral
Appearance:

Description: Ava has white hair grown out to her knees, always either down or in a long braid over her shoulder, and dull grey eyes. She wears a black hooded cloak over a pair of dark flow-y pants and a black tank top, as well as a simple pair of handcrafted sandals. She is roughly 5'6" tall with a very slender, almost feeble, build.
Skills: Knowledgeable with most bladed weapons, namely her wakizashi; highly resourceful and intelligent in the field of survival, very agile.
Weaknesses: Has a soft spot for animals but she is not above killing them for her survival, not physically strong.
Background: After the war, Ava's parents (who'd had yet to birth her) sought refuge at a makeshift township consisting of about a hundred people, all who were desperately huddled into a standing business building where a small stockpile of untainted medicine had been discovered. It had become a well known safe haven for wanderers, and after her parents were established in the tiny community they felt comfortable enough to bear a child into the world. Her upbringing was warm and loving yet somehow it stemmed a cautious and awkward child with hardly any charisma. At the age of eighteen she decided to leave her town and search for something more interesting.
Personality: Ava is quiet and calculating, but ambitious and curious. She doesn't worry often but she hesitates with most decisions, always making sure to think things through fully and rarely lets her emotions influence her. She loves to wander and scavenge, which led her to discovering an "ancient relic" of pre-war, a two foot long wakizashi sword, buried in the ashes of a destroyed building, that she carries with her and cherishes as her only beloved possession.
Extra: She has a good heart and occasionally shows Neutral Good behavior.

Player: netherdancer
Name: Kaylyne Jakson
Sex: Female
Alignment: N
Appearance:
Description: Kaylyne is a short girl of over 5 ft. Her eyes betray almost nothing, her dress is handmade and she forgoes shoes. Her eyes change color, but as she cannot see them, she does not know the color of them. Her soft hair is white and falls to her shoulders, her skin is pale and her figure slim.
Skills: She is a very good runner, has a capable hand at healing and cooking. She reads and is very intelligent though often insulting. She can block out large amounts of pain, though she is easily broken,
Weaknesses: Doesn't think before she speaks sometimes, the dark tales or/imaginary monsters. Can be stubborn, very clumsy and naive though is helpful to just about everyone. Memories of her parents and harsh life.
Background: Her parents abandoned her because she was too much of a burden. Her mind cracked a little as a result, leaving her vulnerable for a time
Personality: She's very open minded and keeps her cool almost all the time but is pretty emotional. A complete book-worm with absolutely no knowledge of other people to a real extent. Very shy and motherly towards the few people she manages to save every once in a while.
Extra: Her tattoo

Player: Angelo
Name: Cassi Ayako Shirosaki
Sex: Female
Alignment: Lawful Neutral
Appearance:
Description: Fairly small (3'9” and 37 pounds), Cassi is pretty pale and thin, looking more like a child than an adult. Her long, fiery-red hair is usually worn in a ponytail so that it's out of her way, blending nicely with her blue eyes and the golden starburst shape inside them. Her face is typically mistaken for a child's due to the shape and button nose she has, as well as how her eyes make her look like she's always startled. Her jacket was a gift from her best friend, who is now dead. It, along with a small amethyst heart necklace, is her most prized possession. Burn scars cover her chest, obviously healed, but still easily seen, especially on her tummy.
Skills: Cassi is extremely resourceful, able to come up with ways to use things for unconventional purposes (think McGyver). She's also quite flexible and agile, having been taught parkour and gymnastics by her now-dead best friend. Guns also seem to work well for her, though she doesn't have a gunpowder based one. Instead, she made a railgun using silver bars and other electronic equipment she found.
Weaknesses: Her size is the biggest one. It makes her frail compared to most others. A good hit to her arm can easily shatter the bone. She also possesses hemophilia, which means that if she starts bleeding, it takes forever for it to clot back up, and can be quite deadly if she doesn't take inventory of her body daily, and bandage up any cuts she finds. She also suffers from occasional bouts of pain around her chest due to severe burns she suffered a while ago. They are often incapacitating, requiring that she get bedrest before moving on.
Background: Cassi actually doesn't know much about herself at all. She woke up in what appeared to be a hospital at the legs of a boy she quickly befriended. He taught her how to survive the Hell that was now the earth, helping her train to peak physical condition and taking care of her when she was sick. When he died trying to save a little boy, Cassi flipped out, killing the man with her experimental railgun. Unfortunately, it also left massive burns up around her torso, and damaging her bladder, requiring that she wear protection. Ever since then, she's been wandering listlessly, helping whoever needs it.
Personality: Cassi is usually reserved and aloof, seeming to be indifferent to the world. And that does seem to be the case. Growing up under another teenager, she never really developed a sense of morals, especially once he died. She knows enough to help people, but other than that, she's clueless. For example, she has no idea stealing is wrong.
Extra: Cassi is a genetically altered clone. Which means that her base was essentially taken from someone, but then adjusted to fit some other purpose.

Mayor Mayhem: emiko_firecaster: TheOriginalPyro: LucienSlade: And free to post!

Derryl entered the makeshift town. It looked like all the others he had been through. Buildings stood half destroyed with sheets of metal bent into new walls, cloth draped over into doors, malnourished and filthy people milling about. This one was a bit different as he could see lights glowing in some of the larger more intact buildings. It looked like some of the old technology still worked here which was interesting, and let his mind wander back to the folk-lore of the Cache. Maybe it was worth looking into, he hadn't stumbled into a new job recently and things were getting a but dull. Pulling a dogend and his prized lighter out of his pocket he light up a cigarette and slowly puffed at it as he made his way towards the largest building.

Opening up the cloth door he was greeted with the always common scene of town hall/barroom combination. He was a stranger in the town and it caused stares, but not very long drawn-out ones as they moved back to their own business. He sat, his coat bunching up behind him on the chair, and ordered a drink, the mysterious 'town special'. Derryl felt like he was waiting, but for whom or what he wasn't sure.

A blond-haired youth in a black T-shirt, torn-up blue jeans, and black muddied combat boots kicked an empty, rusted tin can on the ground as he stood with his back to the side of a small trailer. Well... the frame of a trailer topped with scraps of metal, plastic, and paper anyway. Someone had taken up residence there, but they were gone now. Even took most of their stuff with them, from what it seemed. Alexei wasn't too fond of that. "Damn drifters..." He said to himself with a huff. They'd always take up home and build shelter for a week or so, and then take all their crap and leave again. Rarely did they leave anything useful behind. This time was no different.

He let out a frustrated sigh before looking out to the distance. He could see that small, makeshift town about half a mile out. He'd seen it before. Even caught word of it. But someone like Alexei didn't take too kindly to crowded places. He worked alone, in the dark, when everyone else had left. Sure, taking on one or two people to get his worth was fine. He'd done it plenty of times before. But a whole town? That was definitely pushing it. He wouldn't be able to do his work there.

But, as his stomach started to growl, and the items in his pockets and bag jingled with value, it was all too apparent that he still had to eat. And thus, he made out towards the town, abandoning the trailer. He'd get some decent grub and see if he couldn't find any rumors about nearby abandoned locations that he could 'invest in'. Being a raider, that was his job, after all.

As Kaladin pulled back the cloth drapes that lead to the local bar, he pulled up his goggles where it rested on his messy, untidy hair. His nose wrinkled as he took a whiff of the musty and sour scent that wafted from the filth of men, but he soon adjusted from the familiar scent. He hefted his backpack securely over his shoulder, hiding the makeshift sheathe that his sword resides in on his back.

Kaladin walked towards a table in a corner, nodding to the customers. He had been here several times to be known among some of it's inhabitants. He often came with spare meat and interesting trinkets. As he made his way through, he noticed a man that seemed out of place. Judging by his clothes and packs, he seemed to be another ordinary traveler. Even so, Kilik couldn't help but divert his direction and selected a table that was directly behind the stranger.

Sitting down, a waiter came to tend to his needs. Kaladin ordered a simple meal, which was basically scraps of meat scraped from scavenged animal carcasses. He gave his thanks as the waiter retreated to the backroom. Giving a big sigh, the young man sat back, stretching his arms. His eyes wandered as his mind succumbed into deep thoughts. Before he knew it, his eyes settled on the stranger. Wonder where he's from? Kaladin thought.

From the south, a small wagon rolled lazily down what used to be a highway. Sheltered from the son by a tarp thrown over sticks, a young woman lazily; she wasn't even watching the road, counted items in a burlap sack next to her. Kayla Ross was; what most yokels would call her, an oppurtunistic predator. Items from all over the southern part of the country, lined the inside of the cart. Most of the stuff was reclaimed by chance, as Kayla would put it. Most items would need repair, or were too worn and used to be of full value. On the other hand, the carts ration supply were enough for her and the stolen donkey now pulling the cart. The creature was suprisingly strong, and pulled the cart at a steady pace.

On an old highway sign, someone had painted over the worn object; Da Town: 3 miles. Kayla gently proded the donkey with the butt of her spear, a mischievious grin spreading across her face as she spoke. "Only 3 miles to go minion, no food till we get there!". The grey beast snorted and began to bray from her poking, stirring the lazy creature into a quicker pace. She would arrive mid afternoon, and would unpack her makeshift 'pawn shop' stall in the trading market. The young thief had plenty of things to trade, and even quite a few weapons, rangeing from throwing knives to spears; in limited number mind you. Kayla took a chance to begin counting up what rations she could sell, which totalled around to the equivelant of 30 days worth of food for a family; the girl wasn't worried, the donkey would head towards civilization. she opened a bottle of water, taking a swig and making an audible sigh, trying to make her fuzzy companion jealous.

Chris walked groggilly down the street. He swayed unevenly from a mixture of alcohol and his dying right leg. He stopped and threw up on the torn up pavement. Leaving a bad taste in his mouth, he washed it back with another swig of his home brewed vodka. It was half empty and he was bored so he ripped up a rag with his teeth an stuffed one end into the bottle. Producing a makeshift match, he lit the rag and tossed the new explosive through the window of a nearby home. Screams filled the air as the family inside burned alive. He pulled an old, singed map from a pocket on his coat and looked it over. He was meant to be finding a place to stay for tonight but decided instead that he would find a nice stack of boxes to sleep on. It was probably safer than sleeping in a public place, with a reputation like his.

The drink was strong and tasted like smoke and fire. Nearly sputtering on the home brewed rocket fuel, Derryl had to put it down before he set himself on fire with his still lit cigarette. He sucked the remaining life out of the cigarette, the old weathered paper smoldering down to his fingertips, the sweet smell of cigar tobacco with the acrid scent of cigarette mixed in the air above his head as he let out a steady stream of smoke. The remaining stub disappeared into a pocket. Without an open flame he was free to resume drinking the paint thinner they served.

He knew he had to spend the night in this town, traveling and chasing rumors were out of the question with the sun setting and who knows what lurking in the dark. He may have been a trained kill-for-hire but he still didn't want to stumble into any of the raiders or, worse, Survivors. Staying put was the best option until he knew what direction to head next and after he picked up a few new daggers, he had enough value on him to at least get him one night's decent sleep. Thinking about his options he couldn't help but feel eyes on him, looking around slowly he caught the eyes of his watcher, he simply nodded in the man's direction and returned to his drink.

Kaladin nodded in return, not knowing what else to do. He realized that he probably made things awkward for the guy, so he turned away, muttering to himself under his breath. The youth gave another big sigh, running his hand through his hair. He swallowed, his parched throat rough like sandpaper. He dared not to drink the filthy excuse for alcohol, but this time he had no choice, since his supply of fresher liquids were scarce. He waved a waiter over, asking for the most diluted drink they offered.

After a few minutes, his food and beverage arrived. He was about to dive right into the main course, when he noticed that the stranger had no food on his table. Taking the opportunity to introduce himself, Kaladin cleared his throat loud enough for the man to hear.

"Sir," Kaladin called out, "Would you like some?" He help up a thin strand of meat.

Kayla's wagon slowly pulled into the town, the donkey was more than exhausted, she sat in the driver's seat, smoking a pilfered cigarette as the mule made its way to a nearby water trough. Kayla didn't dare leave the wagon, lest a theif like herself decided to come along and swipe her ill-gotten goods. Standing and looking down at all the slack-jawed residents. Take a deep breath she shouted at the top of her lungs; a sales pitch she'd devised during the 3 hours it had taken to reach 'Da Town', "Come one and all, I got stuff! From ciggarettes to bowie knives, food to alcohol, look no further for a great deal!", she settled in, preparing to defend her things in case someone got the bright idea to steal, and putting on a cheery smile to lure in dull consumers.

The wagon Kayla had aquired could fold out into a one way stand, which she put up against an old cement wall. THe donkey was fed and given more water, the beast seemed grateful it had survived the journey. In one hour, Kayla had traded most of the preserved food she'd stolen, along with a few bottles of alcohol and an old hoe. Sitting back in the wagon, she jingled her bag of caps gleefully, she was well on her way to a life of comfort. She lit up another cigarette, indulging in the taste of flavored tabacco, she had five types of cartons, her favorite were the Strawberry Blast. Four p.m would be drawing near, and Kayla's boredom began to take root. Towns like this could be so dreary! Kayla's thoughts were cut short as the smell of burnt flesh and wood wafted in on the breeze. Maybe this place was more dangerous than she thought.

It had been roughly four days since Ava had seen other humans, not counting the group of bandits she ran into the day before, from which she narrowly escaped with her life. They had ambushed her while she was passing through an abandoned city, rummaging around in a half-standing apartment complex for any miscellaneous object she found of interest. Her only luck in the fight had come from her beloved wakizashi hidden beneath her cloak, which she quickly used to slash the inexperienced fighters until they ran for safety, bleeding and defeated. One of the only times Ava tends to show true emotion is when she is in danger.

There was a cool breeze in the air, twirling her hair gently as she stood silent for a moment, wondering where to go next. Ava had been surviving off of the land for too long, she craved anything close to real food, no more leaves and insects for her. She found a low branch on a tree nearby and placed her foot safely upon it. Gathering her balance, she made her way up from one branch to another, slowly climbing the tree. Reaching a middle region of the tree, high enough for her to scout the land ahead, Ava was pleased to see a group of worn buildings. From what she could tell, there were people, enough of them to have possibly formed a safe, working community. She made her way down most of the tree and leaped off a branch landing on her feet like a cat, agile and calculated.

.....

It had only taken about a half hour long walk at a brisk pace to reach the town. Ava looked around, eager to find food for herself, but was still worried she would be attacked if the area was unstable. She placed her hair over one shoulder to bring the cloak's large hood up to cover most of her face with enough visibility to detect something amiss as she walked calmly along the tattered streets of the town.

Making his mind up, Chris decoded to get some materials. He found the largest house in the immediate area and wlaked inside, brandishing a rusty pocket knife. He found two men at a table, playing cards. Pointing the knife at them he said Go, sit in the corner and don't move. I swear to god, you say a word and I kill you both. they stood but made no move for the corner, instead they pulled guns from under the table and aimed at him. To counter, Chris pulled a bomb from his coat. Sit in the corner and don't move or we all die. Your call. he thumbed the barbecue ignitor crudely attached to his explosive, poised to kill all three of them at a moments notice. The two men surrendered, dropped their guns and sat in the corner while Chris searched for anything useful. He found some flammable liquids and other such explosive ingredients and volatile substances. He was surprised to find a small roll of copper wire. So he took that too. When there was nothing left worth taking, he left the house. He would hide in the woods and sleep, no one would disturb him there.

Looking around, there wasn't much to be seen here aside from a few people walking about what was left of the streets. There were a fair amount of buildings still nearly intact neigh a couple of older houses deteriorating rapidly that seemed to take away from the sparkle of what could be a thriving community, for all she knew. Ava glanced to each side of the road looking for somewhere that could provide her with food. She had not many caps for currency, but those that she had saved for her journey from her hometown still bought her a fair amount of food in each makeshift village she encountered. Luckily for Ava, never had anyone got the best of her and taken her caps on this long adventure, as she practiced for weeks before her departure on how to defend one's self. Her local armsmen, who the people in the community had lovingly dubbed the "town guards," made sure she learned everything she needed to survive in this insane world Ava had so willingly thrust herself into head on.

The smell of smoke broke her thoughts. Where is that acrid scent coming from? She thought for a moment, considering all of the possibilities, and sighed. It could be anything from a simple fire gone out of control to some kind of horrific intentional murder. She disregarded it and noticed a small group of people exiting what looked like a functioning restaurant. A small smile appeared across her lips as Ava turned and pushed open the door, entering the building. She then took her hood down, letting her hair fall around her. Making eye contact with a few people in the room, she nodded politely, making her way to what she figured to be the ordering station and sat herself quietly on one of the stools, draping her black cloak behind her.

Veravel looked up from where she she was staying in the forest, the trees her shelter against most things thinking "Guess I'm going to have to go to town soon." she had been steadily running out of supplies that her latest run had gotten her, and her twin machetes needed sharpened as well.

looking down however she was surprised to see someone strolling through the forest. "no doubt looking for me or where im sleeping" Varavel thought as she continued to watch him for a moment confident of her hidden hovel. she was slightly paranoid, a side effect of her history, and it caused her to distrust new people, something that had saved her life in the past.

looking back towards the town again she sighed lightly, before she packed up her small camp and prepared to head out. it was getting late but she didn't care, as she was used to moving through the night and day with equal confidence. "at least it'll be a full moon tonight" she thought as she sprang from her tree branch to the branch of the next tree her movements making the limbs shake slightly.

it didn't take long to reach the edge of town it only being a few miles out from the forest, and so it wasn't long before she was striding through the center of town. it took even less time for her to find the bar, a search helped by a figure striding in through the door of a place that smelled of the excuse for booze that most of the rural places served these days.

Kayla's patience was begining to wear out, no one ventured past her shop with any bits of information regarding where she could obtain more items of mild interest, or even rumors regarding old hidden caches of pre-war tech that could be exploited, or even they were scavenged, maybe the ones who found the site are still in the area; making prime targets for larceny.

With a lazy look, Kayla stared at the donkey whcih began to munch on a bowl of feed she set out for it. Down the road, she noticed people swarming to a somewhat plain bar. One girl in particular carried herself in a cool an collective manner, not too common in the Wasteland. Kayla would wait for her to exit, maybe she would be interested in joining her scheme.

After a brief quiet moment to collect her thoughts of the town and the surroundings, she waved to the man at the head counter of the tavern. She spoke softly but audibly, her voice calm and cool. "Hello." Something caught in Ava's throat, as she hadn't spoken more than a whisper in the past few days; she cleared her throat. "My apologies. May I have a plate of carrots and potatoes? If you have a bit of meat that would be lovely." No matter where she was, there seemed to always be a healthy supply of ground vegetables in every town, it comforted her knowing her favorite veggies are always at the ready and she thanked the gods for it every day. The barman disappeared to the back with the order. Ava felt an awkward silence in the room, aside from small chatter coming from people who appeared to be regulars at the bar, and couldn't help but peek from the corner of her eyes toward the others. "I wonder how long they've all been here." A slightly nervous habit of Ava's was to braid her hair over one shoulder in situations of social unfamiliarity, which she enacted now. "I don't know these people, but keeping to myself won't offend them. I'm sure they won't mind that I'm not an open book." She then sighed contently and returned her stare to the counter in front of her, awaiting her food in silence, contemplating her next moves within the town after a filling meal.

Chris stacked a couple of boxes into a small pile and walked,with them, into the outskirts of town. He laid them down in a line creating a makeshift bed to sleep on. he would wrap up in a coat to stay warm but there was still many daylight hours left and he would get as much as he could from them. He would sell all of his unwanted materials and trade for things he could use for bombs or other miscellaneous havoc starters. He loved killing people slowly and watching the fear on their faces. However he had to keep in mind that he was as human and as mortal as anyone else. His rotting leg was testament to this. He set off for the town again, this time for business. It wouldn't take long for him to get a good many bomb parts and he would spend the sun down hours to make as many bombs as he could before the night got the better of him and he went to sleep. That was the plan anyway, however, Chris' plans never really worked out.

Derryl had to give the offer a second take. It wasn't often that people had reason to talk to him unless they needed someone done away with. And it was very rare that someone offered kindness, let alone food. He had to grin, this stranger must have been very naive to care about complete strangers. Picking up his drink, the older man joined the other at his table.

"Stranger, you take much risk by offering such to others. You never do know whom you might deal with." he spoke it not so much as a warning of himself but in general as advice. "But thank you, all I have to offer in return is the same rumors of the waste." He didn't offer his name, nor did he actually take the offered food. Derryl remained at the table with the other man, prepared to just talk. It had been a while since he had interacted with a human that hadn't either hired him or was his target, and it he thought it might prove fruitful information or at lest some entertainment.

The bar was beginning to gather more customers, some looked like locals, others got the same wary stares he had gotten. It was good to know that this town was the travel and trade post he thought it was. It meant that he might be able find a map or a note or something to convince him that abandoning his trade for a bit and searching for a folk lore would be worth it. And in his growing excitement it wouldn't take much.

Taking a swig of water, purified with a pump thing-a-majjg she had found, Cassi kept her eyes open, the railgun humming slightly with power. The trigger would send the magnetized rollers into motion, propelling the small metal ball through the air at devastating speeds to blow a hole through her target. In fact, the force could very likely take out more than one opponent at once, though Cassi had never really tried it.

Damp cloths wrapped around her stomach and chest, glistening wetly in the moonlight. They helped with the burns a lot though, so they were necessary. If she didn't keep something cool on them, they often reduced her to a sniveling mess from sheer pain. But they were getting better, and her episodes were growing farther apart. As it was, they were tingling slightly with pain; bearable, but there nonetheless.

Currently she was a part of a merchant guard. The job paid extremely well, which was always useful nowadays, and it also helped people spread useful goods about, so she wasn't complaining. The man to her left cocked his head and spit out a wad of chew, grinning at her revulsion. Such a nasty habit. Shaking her head, she tried her best to ignore him, a hard thing to do when he kept flirting. Twice now, she had pointed the gun at him to get him to just leave her alone, but he was persistent.

Looking ahead, Cassi allowed herself a small smile when the town came into view, the white-washed buildings reflecting the moonlight like dirty mirrors. About a hundred yards later, they'd be inside, and she could find a place to crash. Her relief vanished when she saw a flash of movement, followed by metal, on her right. "Bandits!" she shouted, turning and taking aim before firing. The metal ball glowed white-hot as it rocket forward, flying through the first man's chest as if it was a cloth sheet, and sending him flying back. The two guys next to him seemed staggered by the force, but quickly recovered.

An arrow took the second thief in the throat, while Finley, the man who wouldn't leave her alone, took the third out with his greatsword. Panting slightly, they surveyed the surrounding country-side. "See anything, Marreck?" she asked, turning with the others so that their backs remained facing each other.

The archer shook his head before going to retrieve his arrow. "I know you don't understand this, but that thing you carry around is freaking terrifying," he said, wiping the arrow head on the man's scarf before going about the process of stripping him. Good cloth, or any cloth for that matter, sold for a great price in the markets, especially if it was in the form of clothing. "They probably ran away as fast as they could."

She just shrugged, turning away to be decent. Marreck wouldn't stop at the underwear. Eventually though, they started moving again, having dragged the bodies off the side of the road. Boy, it had been an eventful night.

As Alexei entered the makeshift town, he was worn and tired. The stupid place had looked closer than it really was. Still, perhaps he could finally trade some of the junk he'd scavenged and get a few caps. Then some food, a stiff drink, and a bed would have to come about.

It was quite a rickety little town, he had to say, barely held together by its wavering foundation. Yet still many people loomed here, crossing through the thick mud into their tiny iron and plastic-walled houses. It was quite pathetic. How anyone lived like this was beyond him. Still, this town had its uses for him. Namely, people to trade with, both in merchandise and word.

As he walked down a board that covered the muddy ground, hands in his pockets, a woman's cries came to him. He jerked his head towards a caravan that a young woman seemed to run, shouting calls to people passing by. Alexei starred at the woman for a moment, before letting out a grunt and making his way towards her. It was just what he needed.

"Hey, girl." He said to the young woman with braided hair and tanned skin as he came to her, trying to ignore the donkey that had its own fantastic stench. But someone like him had come to accept such things in the world. "What have you for sale? Anything worth eating?" He gave a scowl, his icy blue eyes narrowing. "And if I hear 'mole-rat meat', it'll be the last words you ever utter."

Kaylyne sighed as she walked through the forest on the outskirts of a town. She felt a nudge by her foot and looked down to see a few rabbits. She reach down and petted them before leaving the safest place she'd been in years. All for the sake of getting food. One needed some meet to survive, and she was sure that the town should have some. She wasn't sure what she could use as currency. It was very disconcerting to interact with humans that she had to stay around for more than the time that it took to patch them up. She was grateful that none of them stayed and ever tried to find her again.

She shook her head and then attempted focus on what was at hand. She ran a hand through her hair and then proceeded to enter the town, elicting strange looks from some males and females. They looked like a very tough and unwelcoming crowd. 'Best not anger them... else I might regret it.' she thought to herself. She managed to find somewhere that would sell food, she had a variety of things in the little pack she carried on her hip. And she wasn't sure what could be used as currency. There were little things of fabric, a make shift neddle and string of some sort. She also had herbs wrapped up and some bottle caps and little shards of metal, tiny insignifigant things.

Kaladin just chuckled. "But if everyone was as cold hearted as you thought them to be, there wouldn't be any socially active places like this, would there?" Kaladin tore off a piece of the meat that he had offered, seeing that the stranger made no move for it. He put it it in his mouth, and quietly chewed, and swallowed.
"Now that the world has changed, it shouldn't mean all civilization should. Some are just...scared." His eyes grew soft as they set on the table, his mind wandering off again to somewhere distant.
But the moment quickly past, and he looked up at the stranger
"You just have to make the first move sometimes," Kaladin said, popping the rest of the bland meat into his mouth. He pushed the plate of remaining food to the older man.
"And maybe they won't be as afraid anymore."

"Hmm... I suppose that is true, but take a close look at some of the people in this bar. You can see the unease they wear, even among themselves." He nodded towards a few men sitting at the bar, they spoke in hushed tones so that he couldn't hear what they were saying, but occasionally one would involuntarily twitch or look over his shoulder. Derryl was used to picking up on the unsaid clues of others.

Reaching into the lining of his jacket he pulled out an ivory dagger, which curved slightly leaving the impression that it was made from bone. The dagger had a rusty brown stain along the bladed portion. Taking a thinning book from another pocket he carved out a page to about palm size and returned the book, leaving the knife on the table. "You don't mind do you?" he rhetorically asked as he pulled out some loose tobacco and rolled up a cigarette, letting it sit at the end of his mouth. Lighting it he continued, "Scared, certainly. But most have the rights and it has done them well, living to the next day. Only the dead have nothing to fear; and the insane. Speaking of, I've heard some pretty crazy tales of wild goose chases for old world technology. Not the usual scavenging of pieces, but of whole buildings filled with working technology and the knowledge to use it, or sell it." He brought up the rumors, hoping to find out if he was on the right path, and if it was worth exploring the option further.

Entering the city, the trio accompanied the merchant train to the city square, where he began setting up shop. He was attracting several customers as Cassi watched, just by shouting out what he had to offer. A similar shop down and across from the street didn't look all that bad, a little more beat down, and less valuable goods, but it was a wonder the citizens hadn't bought more of her stuff, excepting that she just opened shop like them. The late hour would help that also.

Shrugging, Cassi turned to the merchant. "Tonight I'm free, right?" she asked, eyeing him suspiciously. It wouldn't be the first time she had been cheated. But no, he nodded and shooed her away, muttering something about girls getting in the way. That tempted her to shoot him, but then she wouldn't get paid, so she made do with a sigh. Regardless, she was free, and she had a good amount of bottlecaps jingling in her pocket.

Poring over what to do, which mainly consisted of where she should eat, Cassi eventually wandered into a bar, flicking the curtain aside before coughing in the smoke. Regardless, she waded through a crowd of people to a table by two men, ordering a small meal and wine. Letting her body get used to excess wouldn't help. If she did, she wouldn't be able to cope without it, so she let it go, eating rations that most people would complain about, her railgun propped up beside her chair.