Multiple Settings (apps/characters) they left ʂօʍҽէհìղց behind - [ apoc futuristic wild west fantasy rp. open! ]

[bro]

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• LINKS

  OOC

  you will be sent a link to the discord server
  INTEREST CHECK

  HERE
  LORE

  TBA (second tab in this page contains important lore to keep in mind)
  
  ROLES, RULES, and OVERVIEW are found in the Interest Check. Questions may be asked in the Interest Check.
  

  SHEET

  Name:
  Age:
  Gender:
  Orientation:
  Role:
  Curse: (describe it in detail, please!)
  Personality:
  Appearance:
  Backstory: (details are optional!)
  Other:

  
  

  • You can edit this sheet as you please as long as it covers the same general information! Please don’t remove parts, but you can add as you please, and you can also split things up into little parts to make them easier. You don’t have to use fancy code, but you can if you want to.
  • You’re allowed to use art or a faceclaim to depict your character, but make SURE you have permission to use the image and credit appropriately!

  Artist: Yusuf Sabqi
• CURSES

  The gods gave curses based on what an individual feared most. If a person feared ghosts, they were cursed to have ghosts wreaking havoc in their life until their death. If a person feared sunlight, they were cursed to be exposed to the sun. If a person feared monsters in the night, they were cursed to be hunted down by shadowy creatures at nightfall. Curses can impact not just you but also your surroundings. Curses can (and will, if you don’t live your life well) lead to your death. If you are cursed with the girl from The Ring, you’re not the only one seeing her or the only one who can die by her hand. If you are cursed with sandstorms chasing after you wherever you go, you won’t be the only one buried under 10 metric tons of sand.
  
  Curses may not always be active. Though there are some curses that are present at all times, most curses appear to have an aspect of randomness to them. For example, if you’re doomed to have a deadly pursuer at nightfall, the pursuer will not be present every night. There are times when curses go dormant for months to years. Some curses appear later in life. Curses may worsen or evolve depending on the individual’s current worst fear. Curses may even change entirely if the individual begins to fear something else strongly enough.
  
  Curses take form in the bloodline. They are genetic and can be passed down to the next generation, although mutations may occur, leading to stronger, weaker, or completely different curses. The curses may also skip a generation entirely. A curse may evolve to match your character’s current main fear. A curse may combine with another curse; however, to keep things relatively simple, you can think of a child having a 50% chance of inheriting their father’s curse and a 50% chance of inheriting their mother’s curse. You can go as crazy with curse genetics as you’d like in the OOC, but let’s try to keep things as standalone for your character as possible.
  
  A curse can be anything. That’s right—anything. It doesn’t necessarily need to be detrimental to your character. A curse could be as harmless as butterflies constantly trailing an individual because their ancestor had a phobia of butterflies. Try to keep things interesting—or, better yet, funny. If it makes sense that your character’s ancestor could be afraid of something enough to be the basis of the curse, chances are, you’re good to go. Your character will most likely be accepted regardless of what their curse is.
  

  
  

  SANCTUARY CITIES

  A few centuries after The Great Cessation, when resources began noticeably diminishing, groups of people with less lethal—or “good”—curses began hoarding resources and viciously defending them. As a result, these groups grew in number and began constructing tall, metal walls to keep unwanted elements away. Centuries later, the resource-rich (compared to the rest of the planet, at least) areas gatekept from the outside world were labeled “Sanctuary Cities.” In these areas, science has prevailed, allowing them to capitalize on and multiply what life and water they have. Cities keep themselves free of curses by only allowing those with minor, harmless curses into their cities (although they typically refuse to let anyone in unless they’re of high status or incredibly capable, as the testing process to ensure the individual is not badly cursed is expensive) and ensuring no children are born to bring a dangerous curse into their walls (or, in other words, employing eugenics). Many Cities have contact with one another, for trade and to keep track of current ongoings in other parts of the world.
  
  Cities often send specific, specially-trained groups of people into the barren wastelands to scout for more resources or to trade with another City. Outsiders, such as bandits and some Towns, often intercept these City units for information, resources, and hostages.
  
  Towns are often ransacked by nearby Cities, mainly to eliminate competition for resources and to take what they have. Cities’ focus on ransacking and eliminating towns outside their walls got amped up after an event where multiple towns had teamed up to invade a major sanctuary in an attempt to take it over (an event otherwise referred to as The Siege). Now, most patrols sent out of sanctuary cities are typically told to destroy towns that have grown too large on sight.
  

  
  

  TOWNS

  Towns are mostly found within strips of land that aren’t as barren as the rest of the world. They are usually established next to land that can be made arable with enough time and above an underground water source that is tapped into via a deep well. Towns form for community and to protect stable sources of food and water. For order and organization, towns often have “laws” and enforcers of the law. Nearby towns keep in contact with each other for trade and protection, or they may have rivalries with each other.
  
  Towns have an incredibly American frontier aesthetic to them, with many elements of futurism and fantasy. Nearly all have electricity. Most buildings in towns are made of metal, stone, and mud, as wood is not a common resource.
  
  Towns are threatened by nature and by man. Outlaws will attack towns for their resources (or, in some very strange cases, just to cause trouble). Cities attack them for their resources and to eliminate competition.
  

  
  

  Artist: Daniil Silantev
• PASSAGE OF TIME

  Players can decide in their posts how much time has passed. Each post should mention a month and day (preferably, this month and day will be at the top of the post in bold). One week or more time-skips must be discussed with one of the hosts involved.
  
  The story begins on January 1st, 2797.
  

  
  

  OUR TOWN

  The town played in the RP will be named by the Mayor, i.e., the player of the Mayor. Possible names will be brainstormed in OOC.
  

  
  

  IMPORTANT EVENTS

  Further details will be discussed in OOC.
  
  THE GREAT CESSATION

  The event when the Gods abandoned the planet.
  
  THE SIEGE

  During a terrible drought and a burst of disease, a group of towns came together to try to force themselves into a City. It ended catastrophically for the towns. The City was unharmed.
  

  Artist: Brian Patrick Tagalog

CODE CREDIT

 

[canineCatharsis]

NAME: Matthias Larkspur.

AGE: 20, going on 21.

GENDER: Male.

ORIENTATION: Unlabelled.

ROLE: The Townsfolk.

CURSE: Cryophobia, the fear of the cold. For those living with cryophobia, this curse would certainly be a hellscape. For Matthias, it's more of an inconvience. Being cursed to a life of freezing temperatures, the man is akin to being a living ice cube, with his skin cold to the touch and his mere presence leaving frost in its path. He’s acutely aware of it, too. He gets the pleasure of experiencing the briefest of warmth on occasion, however, it is always so fleeting. No matter how warm he dresses or how sunny it is outside, he can never feel warm. Not really.

PERSONALITY: Awkwardly charming. He makes a lot of jokes that don’t tend to land, always seems sort of unsure of himself, is constantly fidgeting with his attire in hopes of smoothing out creases that aren’t there. The man seems to always be stewing in self doubt about his own thoughts. He’ll make seemingly self assured statements and decisions, only to falter the moment nobody shows their approval. Man’s is rather anxiety ridden and it stems from his own overthinking. Matthias has the energy of someone who never socialized with kids his own age, but rather, was surrounded by older folk his whole upbringing; probably because he was.

APPEARANCE: Matthias Headshot. Unseen, but his hands and feet are blackened at the tips, mimicking the visual of hypothermia. His lips are often blueish. Matthias puts a lot of effort into looking more "normal", often wearing gloves and covering up his oddities. If I had to guess, Matthias stands at a solid 5'11", though he's often hunched down to a 5'9". (Art drawn by me.)

BACKSTORY: Growing up as the previous Mayor’s son, Matthias had his future laid out for him from before he could walk. He couldn’t complain much. I mean, having all the big decisions predestined for you made living easy— you didn’t need to think, you let others do the thinking for you. He followed the rules and advice given, going through the motions of being alive, and hung onto every little word his superiors spoke.
He’s much more of a follower than a leader. Even still, there’s always been hope for him following in his parent’s footsteps, even though he himself would rather do anything but.

OTHER/FUN FACT: Sometimes, his leftover frost melts and he slips on it. This is most common when he’s indoors and he's, given up, on trying to prevent it from happening...​

 

[Gears]

Name: Eolan Gears
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Orientation: Asexual- due to a life seeing bloated corpses, he prefers a intelligent conversation to "The Sex"
Role: Doctor
Curse: Doc fears the undead, with any dead bodies around him rising from the dead in order to kill him. This was discovered when his family found that an ancient corpse had clawed its way from miles of dirt to reach Doc. These undead that arise are nearly unkillable, intelligent- and every day another joins the horde. Fortunately, they can only attack at midnight until dawn- during that time Doc uses the psychic link between them to hunt them, attempt to kill them, and hide their bodies before they can return the next day.
Personality: Doc is cold and serious due to his life hunting the undead his curse created- with his family abandoning him in fear that the creatures would some day turn on them.
Appearance: Doc wears a plague doctor mask and trenchcoat at all times
Backstory: Born in one of those perfect cities, life was perfect until Mr Bones showed up. Doc began to hear a voice speaking to him- telling him to do things. People first thought it was an imaginary friend- but when it told Doc to begin digging in an exact spot, and after it told him the exact location of an old world tin of gold, people reckoned his curse was manifesting. One day the voice in the back of his head found him- a rotting corpse of a long dead criminal, his skeletal face always smiling as he tried to kill the boy. Eventually he was contained, and after the neighbor was discovered to have a curse to attract dead bodies, with his mother hearing the whispers of the dead- he was discovered as a bastard and a danger and was kicked out of the settlement at midnight. Doc wandered for weeks, starving and afraid- hiding from the monsters born from his curse, until he encountered a zombie that had awoken only to be pinned by a cement pillar. Like all the infected, his true urge was to kill the boy, but Doc found that his proximity with this infected blocked the psychic tracking by the others. Doc practiced the mental link between his captive over time and realized he could manipulate it- to steal information and knowledge or experience memories. Using this, Doc began seeking out specific corpses- Survivalists and fighters, and absorbed their experiences, taking his captives medical knowledge before departing- wandering from town to town as a traveling doctor, always leaving at midnight.
Other: The night they abandoned the boy, they didn't realize that Mr. Bones had awoken to pursue his target- and even though he had been created to kill the boy. hearing he was abandoned led to him killing every member of the settlement, one-by-one as they killed him, only for him return the next night. When the people fled the city, he slowly tracked them down until Doc was the last- which just so happens to be the day IC posts start.
(Credit, Darkest Dungeons)

 

[sycamore.trees]

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  WESLEY BOONE

  AGE:

  38
  GENDER:

  Male
  ORIENTATION:

  Bisexual
  ROLE:

  Metalworker
  
  CURSE:

  
  Sedatephobia: The fear of the silence.
  
  Whenever his surroundings become quiet enough, a cacophony of sounds come out of nowhere. It could be something as simple as dripping water or a ticking clock; on darker days, it could be a bloodcurdling scream. Sometimes, it’s the sound of his voice, mocking him, saying his most private thoughts out loud. Other times, it’s a woman humming to herself, that lilting tone familiar and faraway all at once. That’s when he turns the volume on this radio all the way up, drowning his little workshop in crackling static. Occasionally, it works. Mostly, he slumps in his chair, hands over his ears, as if no matter how hard he tries, some things are just meant to echo in his head forever.
  
  
  PERSONALITY:

  
  Wesley likes to keep to himself, perhaps to a degree that might arouse the suspicion of those around him. His responses are usually terse and transactional; he’ll get the job done, but don’t expect him to give you any extras. Here is a man with many questions, though he’d much rather observe and find the answers himself than ask someone else.
  
  Still, there are times when he almost seems to forget himself. A rare piece of rock, some ancient tech from before The Great Cessation: every now and then, there are little curios that make his eyes glimmer, that slip the ghost of a smile on his face. And then he’ll ask his questions, and he’ll ramble on with an almost boyish enthusiasm. But then eventually he’ll catch himself and retreat, the walls coming back up as he clears his throat and excuses himself with a muttered word or two.
  
  APPEARANCE:

  
  With dishevelled dark hair and a face often smudged with grease, Wesley can look a little rough around the edges. His hands are calloused, his jaw clean-shaven. The brown leather jacket he wears all the time looks worn, and his trousers are faded and ripped, but the lone silver band on his finger shines like it’s impervious to scratches. He smells like metal and soap. There are dark circles under his brown eyes, like it had been a long, long time since he’s had a good night’s sleep.
  
  It often surprises people how tall Wesley is at 6’3”, given how much time he spends slouched over a chair, tinkering on machines. He’s lean and almost looks agile, until you see him walk and catch his limp. From the knee down, his right leg has been replaced with a metal prosthetic, wires and pipes whirring softly and creaking faintly with each step, like a reminder that it’s as weary as the man who wears it.
  
  BACKSTORY:

  
  
  Wesley found himself in town almost two years ago – or, more accurately, the town found him. A bounty hunter was coming back from one of the smaller towns when they came across Wesley, passed out on the ground and with a half-opened duffel bag full of electronics, parts spilling out in a haphazard mess that seemed to beg for the attention of opportunistic bandits.
  
  The town’s reception of him was lukewarm at best, and rumours around his past had swirled around ever since. Had he salvaged his loot from a dying town? Or, worse yet, was he a plant, sent by The City to spy on them and make sure they couldn’t build their tower of Babel? Wesley did himself no favours, of course, brushing off people’s questions with one-word answers or a simple I don’t know.
  
  What he did know, however, was that the frequent power outages were tied to a malfunctioning power relay in the old architecture. He could tell from the way the lights flickered, from the sickly whirr of their generator, like the machines spoke to him. He looked at the guns that jammed, the screens that glitched and went black, at the things that were falling apart; easy fixes, he thought, as if he were compensating for something.
  
  It was a reluctant alliance, at first. He needed food and shelter; the town needed an engineer. The last one had died a year prior without training an apprentice, leaving the town fumbling through makeshift repairs and a crumbling infrastructure. Under the weary watch of the sheriff, Wesley worked on fixing the power grid, on patching up broken radios, and tinkering with whatever machinery they could bring him – small things at first, then gradually larger, more vital systems.
  
  Over time, the whispers stopped; whatever people thought of him now was lost to the wind. As if in a show of trust, they’d even given him the old metalworker’s workshop, tucked away in a lonely corner of the town.
  
  There, in that little cabin where the light never seemed to go out, the air seemed to settle in a sense of stillness – but never of silence. As the lanky silhouette moved around the room, shadows shifting in the warm orange light, one might hear the soft whir of a fan clutch, or perhaps the occasional clattering of metal against wood. But always, just always, there was the mundane static of a radio – almost faint at times, and painfully loud on his bad days – fighting total silence as though something might crawl from out of it if left unchecked.
  
  

  Face Claim: Ioan Gruffudd
• 
  

  Artist: Daniil Silantev
• Artist: Brian Patrick Tagalog

CODE CREDIT

 

[Hyazik]

Here’s my child. This is still a bit of a w.i.p, I may change or add things later on.

Spoiler: Fill my eyes with kerosene

NAME Eris Ashely Lane

AGE: 22

GENDER: Non-binary

ORIENTATION: Asexual | Pan-Romantic

ROLE: Bounty hunter

CURSE: Spectrophobia, fear of reflections or in some cases one’s own reflection.
When faced with a mirror or some form of reflective surface Eris begins to ‘lose a part of themself’ as they would put it. The meaning of this has varied over time, while in some scenarios they have been found wreathing in pain others they have experienced temporary psychosis. Claiming to see the faces of figures long since passed. While this curse to many would be seen as a living hell they have grown accustomed to it, wearing a rabbit mask to help dampen some effects of the curse.

PERSONALITY:
"Everyone has a reflection, However not everyone's can be trusted."
Eris is known for her bluntness and straight shooting way of communication. Preferring to keep to themself, they often present themself as aloof and closed off even to those their closest to and holding a pessimistic outlook on life. They can be very witty and sarcastic, especially towards people whom they find irritating or incompetent, holding little patience for inefficiency. They have a difficult time trusting most people, holding the belief that everyone has a flip side however, with the few that they have grown to trust they are fiercely loyal.

APPEARANCE: Eris’ appearance underneath the mask is unknown. They are rather short and thin, only standing at around 5’3ft and holding a rather sickly figure about them to the point they have been mistaken for being undead. They have tan freckled skin, their knuckles dry and callous from their travels, covered by long tattered gloves. They wear a dirty outfit that with a belt with various pouches and a throwable knife. Around all of that they wore a long red cloak and a slightly cracked white rabbits mask which concealed their face.

RANDOM MANERISMS:
- They always seem to stand perfectly still when not doing anything, their constantly tense stature making them appear as though they are constantly waiting for something to happen.

- Sometimes with people there close with they’ll subconsciously find themself leaving them random things from their pockets, some spare change, sure. Leftover snack, have it. Rock with suspicious red spots on it, its yours, free of charge.

BACKSTORY:
Growing up Eris always felt this overwhelming sense of guilt. Their mother, Ophelia Lane, dying of child birth shortly after they came into this god forsaken world. Them and their father, Alec Lane, lived in a small town in the middle of ‘bum nowhere’ as he would describe it. Honestly, calling it a town would be an overstatement, more like a glorified camp.

He often hopped from job to job so often you would’ve thought he was a grasshopper, working himself to the bone to just barely keep a roof over their heads, and after work the he would take them along to search for scraps in the remnants of what was once a forest.
As a child he would always tell them stories of what life was like in the city,




OTHER/FUN FACT:

 

[Jaellagirl]

This is a draft of the character open to change but it contains most of the important stuff about her

Name: Eolara Baxter (The White Lady)

Age: 29

Gender: Female

Orientation: Demisexual/Heteroromantic

Role: The preacher

Curse:
Arachnophobia - the fear of arachnids aka spiders, scorpions, ticks and so on
She is cursed to be permanently surrounded by arachnids. She always has some climbing on her skin, in her hair and around her on the ground. Some have been there ever since she was born some have just found her over time. The largest are an average dog's size and the smallest rice grain and they are in a cycle of fighting and eating one another. Eolara has little to no control over them but she has managed to befriend them in a way that allows her to get a little use out of the older bigger ones as transport in exchange for feeding them something other than their brethren.

Personality: She possesses an otherworldly calm but that is just the response to being constantly surrounded by critters crawling around. Eolara has a strike of cunning every once in a while but in general, she is very loving and caring towards those who manage to find their way into her inner circle but as one may guess not that many get that close and even fewer stay close. To others, she might come off as eccentric or downright mad.

Appearance:
She is often cloaked in the spiderwebs to a point where not an inch of her skin is showing to the outside giving her the appearance of a nun. Eolara does try her best to drape any of the newer webs in a flattering way but it is a daily battle of willpower and creativity. She has a permanent veil of webs covering her face and a big black scorpion named Charlie sitting on the top of her head. Ever so often Eolara decorates her "clothes" with tiny live spiders and scorpions as they are there anyways. On the height front, she is about 5'7'' and of fairly average build. Her face while rarely seen is round with wavy black hair billowing around it and her eyes are that of forest green.

Backstory:
Eolara grew up in a small group of worshipers of the old gods and was seen as a divine gift as her curse attracted all the arachnids in the nearby vicinity and thus made a stable food and fibre source but it was a lonely life sitting on a perch something to be ogled at and worshipped. Living in that group lasted a good 20 years before their "prosperity" was discovered by others. Most of them were just slaughtered and she was taken. To what purpose, she never found out as she ran away under the cover of night. The following days were hell on Earth and there were many of times when she just thought of surrendering herself to the critters and being eaten alive but something in her kept going. Eolara wasn't sure how long it took her but soon she reached the town that she now calls home. There she managed to find some food and shelter even if at the time it was temporary. Any scrap of food or sip of water didn't come any easier in the town than it had come in the wilderness as she had to beg for it. Soon her beggar pleas turned into preachings of a better future and has been of the past. Eolara unbeknownst to her at the time had turned into a figure of reverends and worship once more but this time she knew she was something more than just a source of physical needs she was the one to soothe the souls while the body was to be taken care of others.

Other:
She is mostly locked up in her house as to not disturb people with her many-legged friends only emerging for the sunrise and sunset prayer. The house that she stays in is covered with numerous cobwebs and arachnids and stands a little ways apart from anything else.

 

[dokjacore]

Spoiler: Auburn

- [1] -

╔═════.✵.══════════════╗
"We’re in this together whether ya’ like it or not.”

↠ Auburn ↞
[ male [he/him] - involved - 34 - foniasophobia ]

===========

Full Name: Auburn No Last Name Given

Nickname(s): Aubrey, Red, Asshole, Dumbass, Dickhead

Sexuality: What’s it to ya?

Curse:
foniasophobia — the fear of being murdered
Every person in Auburn’s life will attempt to kill him. It doesn’t matter who it is or what their opinion of him is — they will try. If they’re unlikely to kill him, the curse will come up with a reason for them to, such as a sudden and brief psychosis or a famine causing them to try to eat him out of hunger. The curse may ruin his relationship with the person in order to make a situation where they would realistically try to kill him.

There is a percent chance that a person will attempt to kill him that slowly increases as time passes. If a person has either participated in or been complicit in a murder attempt, that percent chance will reset to 0. Afterward, it will slowly grow higher but never reach 100%. A person may never try to kill him. For the roleplay, we’ll say that the town just recently tried to hang him — since everyone in the town was complicit and it was so recent, no one has to try to kill him unless their roleplayer wants them to.

»»————-　⚔︎　————-««

Appearance:

made by me, dokjacore . please do not steal.

Auburn is, to be quite frank, incredibly roughed up. He’s got countless scars crossing his body, whether it be bullet wounds, burned scar tissue, rope marks, and just regular ol’ scars. He’s missing an eyebrow from the one that spans the left side of his face, and he’s missing just a bit of his right one from where another scar crosses his eye. He is also, quite notably, missing one of his legs. It’s been replaced with a robotic version. He likes to claim his real one is stronger.

His name likely comes from his signature auburn-colored hair, just a tinge off from being red or being brown and instead settled somewhere firmly in the middle. His eyes are a similar shade, albeit a bit more on the brown side. If you asked, he’d tell you that they’re russet — most people, however, are not as particular about the colors of Auburn’s physique as Auburn himself is, so they would not ask.

He’s about 6’0 (the cutoff for being handsome and perfect, which he is) and with a fair amount of muscle, lithe and built like a panther, or a lion, or whatever feline comparison you’d like to make. He also moves with a similar amount of grace, and he can contort his body similarly to how a cat could to fit into the smallest box you can fathom, despite being a decently large guy.

Personality:
Auburn could best be described, by everyone who knows him (and quite possibly himself), as a “self-absorbed existence.” Not just because he talks about himself a lot — which, while not his default state, he is quite willing to do if given the slightest prompting — but because he’s just an incredibly selfish human being. The type to cut down a tree, even though trees are an invaluable resource in infertile land, just because he wanted a “real campfire”. Cocky, too — he has a strong belief in his own abilities and is willing to show them off whenever prompted, whether it be via bet, fight, or robbery. He doesn’t care whether he’s beating the shit out of people, stealing their livelihoods, or eating the damn grass — as long as he’s proving something about how capable he is, he’s happy with it.

The worst part about it is that he’s, unfortunately, often right. Auburn is an incredibly skilled man — wins most duels, is in and out of a robbery faster than you can blink, and able to dodge most things that come his way, and he is smug about it, and when he’s smug, he taunts. He taunts just for fun, even — he’s just an overall obnoxious individual, a guy with an immature soul who laughs at potty humor and dick jokes, and the one who challenges you to a fight when you get angry and unfortunately wins, because he’s an asshole but an asshole who can usually back it up.

He thinks he’s immortal because of it. Incapable of dying. It’s a mix of his genuine skill and his curse — constantly almost getting killed and avoiding death each time does that to you. No matter how many near-death situations he enters, he comes out of it with only a few more scars — and he loves them. Flaunts them like trophies of his unkillable perfection. Because he’s lucky, he’s protected by God, he is perfect. He’ll taunt people into trying to kill him as much as he damn well pleases just to prove it.

Background:
According to what he’s told the town since he appeared about four years ago, he’s a bandit. A lone ranger in the night who steals from the rich and also steals from the poor. It seems accurate, since all he’s done since he’s shown up is steal from this town.

… Actually, no, that’s a generalization — that’s mostly all he’s done. Auburn’s introduction was simple and a staple for what most of his time with this town would be — he showed up one night, stole half their shit, and left. Evidently, his success got him cocky and made him show up the next night, during which he was captured and hanged.

The rope snapped and he got away scot-free. He took this as an invitation to return the next day to flaunt his un-snapped neck.

This became a bit of an (annoying) routine — Auburn would show up and steal their stuff, and either he would get away with it thanks to his ungodly speed and stealth, or they’d catch him some way or another, try to hang him, and he’d get away alive because he’s God’s favorite child. He created an endless game of cat-and-mouse that eventually just became somewhat of an annoyance for the townsfolk and a fun activity to do on the side of Auburn. Why Auburn kept coming back despite the fact his neck still bears the scars of previous hanging attempts, no one knows, but he’s certainly still there.

Now, thanks to their cat-and-mouse routine and against the town’s best efforts, Auburn’s comfortable hanging around. He’ll bother the townsfolk, pop in on events he knows are going on in order to pull a prank on the people or just enjoy the festivities, or demand items in exchange for his silence and even more items in exchange for him making himself scarce. If the townsfolk give him enough items for his participation, they’ve found, he’ll also help protect the town, do bounties, or, on more than one occasion, eat a rat. Anything is free game so long as he’s paid.

He doesn’t seem to give a single shit whether anyone wants him around or not, and it’ll stay that way for the foreseeable future.

»»————-　⚔︎　————-««

Strengths:
+ Speed :: Auburn is incredibly quick. It’s his main skill when it comes to surviving an apocalypse. Most altercations with him end before they start, as do most robberies. +
+ Stealth :: His second main skill, and when paired with the first, the skills that make him as useful as he is in this scenario. He can somehow move with almost complete silence despite his literal metal limb. As a result, he can get in and out of places like no one else. +

Weaknesses:
- Unlucky :: Auburn is, essentially, doomed to suffer misfortune after misfortune and betrayal after betrayal and come through the other side alive. The amount of times he’s suffered traumatic near-death stunts is monu-fucking-mental. -
- Selfish :: As extensively covered in the personality, Auburn only thinks for himself. This can be obnoxious and also make him somewhat useless when paid to protect the town, since his first instinct in response to a bullet is to duck and it takes another 5 instincts for him to remember he needs to remind other people to duck, too. -
- Stupid :: Despite being skilled at surviving the apocalypse and most skills necessary to do so, Auburn’s stupid in about all other ways. As in, the type to ask what animal the pink panther is. Not exactly the type of guy you’d ask to compete in the Science Olympiad. -
- Close-Range :: It’s not necessarily that he’s bad at fisticuffs, but he certainly pales in comparison to his long-range capabilities. He can dodge and weave just fine, but his fists don’t pack as much of a punch as he’d like them to. He’s perfectly capable of playing dirty and landing a hit to the crotch, though. -

Weaponry:
Gun One >> His lovingly named Gun One, a powerful handgun stolen off of a city fella on a patrol. He uses it for close quarters, although Auburn’s habit is to never get too close in a fight, so “close quarters” is more like 40 feet away.
Gun Two >> His equally lovingly named Gun Two, a sniper rifle he has slung on his back for when he wants to get at an enemy from far away.

Notable Items:
Ammo >> Plenty of ammo for Gun One and Gun Two, his prized possessions.
Jewels >> While most people in the apocalypse couldn’t give less of a shit about anything that doesn’t raise their chances for survival, Auburn has an eye for pretty things. He has a couple fragile but shiny minerals stored in his bags for no reason except to look at them.

»»————-　⚔︎　————-««

Theme Song(s):
shut ur mouth (pls) - Crustsox
Blue Pigz - King Shelter

Trivia/Other:
- Despite the drawing, his default expression is not a cocky smile. He usually looks neutral unless he’s actively taunting someone.
- Despite his description as “an incredibly skilled man who wins most fights,” in roleplay, he will NOT be winning most fights or ending most interactions in 2 seconds unless agreed upon by the roleplay partner, as that would be really boring for everyone. Just know that in lore, that is what he is, because it’s funnier that way.
- I started on this character sheet entirely intending to make it short to match everyone else’s and to not overwhelm anyone, but when I got started, I unfortunately could not stop. Do as I say, not as I do — keep your writing as short as you damn well please. You do not have to be like me. You guys did it fine.

╚══════════════.✵.═════╝​

 

[Yunn]

SILAS BRAN

TWENTY EIGHT // MALE // AROACE // THE CARETAKER

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  CURSE

  "...OH DEAR, IT SEEMS LIKE I FORGOT AGAIN."
  
  ORIGINATING FROM ATHAZAGORAPHOBIA, THE IRRATIONAL FEAR OF FORGETTING OR BEING FORGOTTEN SILAS IS CURSED WITH CONTINUOUS BOUTS OF MEMORY LOSS. ACCORDING TO HIS NOTES, THE TIMING AND AMOUNT OF MEMORIES HE LOSES APPEAR TO BE COMPLETELY RANDOM.
  
  USUALLY, HIS CURSE DOES NOT AFFECT HIS EVERYDAY LIFE. AT TIMES IT MIGHT EVEN BE CONSIDERED HIS NATURAL FORGETFULNESS, SUCH AS FORGETTING WHAT HE WAS DOING MID-TASK, OR STOPPING MID-SENTENCE BECAUSE HE SIMPLY LOST HIS THOUGHT.
  
  THERE WOULD BE TIMES HE WOULD GO TO SLEEP AND WAKE UP WITH NO MEMORIES OF THE PREVIOUS DAY, BUT HE HAS ALREADY THOUGHT OF A SOLUTION. HE HAS MADE IT A HABIT TO CARRY AROUND A JOURNAL TO RECORD WHAT HE DID THAT DAY AND MADE SURE TO WRITE DOWN ANY IMPORTANT INFORMATION HE NEEDS TO REMEMBER. IT COULD BE A HASSLE WHENEVER HIS CURSE DECIDES TO WIPE AWAY DAYS' WORTH OF MEMORIES THOUGH.

  
  
  

  PERSONA

  "OH WELL IT'S NOT LIKE I'LL EVEN REMEMBER ENOUGH TO AMOUNT TO ANYTHING."
  
  MAYBE DUE TO HIS CURSE HE OFTEN SEEMS LIKE A BLANK PIECE OF PAPER. FOR THE MOST PART, HE IS AMIABLE WITH OTHER TOWNSFOLK. ACCORDING TO HIS NOTES THAT'S JUST WHO HE IS. USUALLY NONCHALANT AND SERENE. HE'S A LITTLE SLOW AND HIS REACTIONS AND ANSWERS ARE ALWAYS DELAYED. BUT EVEN SO, HE USUALLY GIVES LITTLE TO NO THOUGHT WITH HIS WORDS. BLUNT AND CONCISE HE HAS CONSIDERED THIS TO BE THE BEST COURSE OF ACTION NOT TO COMPLICATE HIS LIFE ANY FURTHER.
  
  

  APPEARANCE

  "I WONDER, AM I THE SAME PERSON I WAS YESTERDAY?"
  
  5'10" OR 178 CENTIMETERS. HE HAS ASH BLONDE WAVY HAIR THAT LAYS JUST ABOVE HIS SHOULDERS. PRETTY LANKY, THERE'S NOT THAT MUCH AROUND FOR HIM TO EAT. WEARS THE SAME BLACK TURTLE NECK, BEIGE PANTS, AND EITHER A MASK OR SCARF TO BLOCK THE DUST. HE ALWAYS CARRIES HIS UTILITY KNIFE ON HAND JUST IN CASE.
  
  

  BACKSTORY

  "I SEEM TO HAVE FORGOTTEN IT ALL...ALONG WITH EVERYONE ELSE."
  
  SIX YEARS AGO HE FOUND HIMSELF STRANDED IN THE MIDDLE OF THE BARREN LAND WITH HIS MEMORIES WIPED OUT. WHAT WAS LEFT ON HIM WAS A SMALL NOTE HIDDEN IN BETWEEN HIS JACKET WHICH CONTAINED WHAT HE ASSUMED WAS HIS IDENTITY. WITH ONLY A NAME, AGE, CURSE, AND WORDS WHICH HE COULD ONLY DECIPHER AS A TESTAMENT FROM HIS PREVIOUS SELF HE SET OFF WANDERING.
  
  A COUPLE OF DAYS IN HE CONVENIENTLY FOUND THIS TOWN. DUE TO THE LACK OF MANPOWER AT THE TIME THE TOWNSFOLK HAD COME TO TERMS WITH WELCOMING HIM. CONSIDERED AS WELFARE THEY PROVIDED HIM WITH ONE OF THE ABANDONED HOUSES ON THE OUTSKIRTS OF TOWN.
  
  AS TIME PASSED HE SLOWLY INTEGRATED HIMSELF INTO THE TOWN, SOMEHOW HE WOULD RANDOMLY HAVE SOME MUNDANE SKILLS OR KNOWLEDGE UP HIS SLEEVE AS IF HE'D DONE THIS. BEFORE LONG HE HAS BECOME A JACK OF ALL TRADES.
  
  

  EXTRA

  DESPITE ORIGINALLY STARTING OFF WRITING DAILY LOGS OF HIS LIFE OUT OF NECCESSITY SILAS HAS GROWN FOND OF JOURNALLING AS WELL AS PHOTOGRAPHY AND DRAWING TO DOCUMENT HIS MEMORIES.
  
  ALONG WITH HIS DIARIES, HE HAS A BOOK DEDICATED TO WRITING INFORMATION ABOUT HIMSELF AND ANOTHER WITH INFORMATION ABOUT FELLOW TOWNSFOLK WITH HIS INTERPRETATIONS.
  
  MAYBE IT'S DUE TO THE NOTE THAT WAS ORIGINALLY ON HIM HE IS ONE OF THE RARE FOLK THAT LISTENS TO THE PREACHER. HE DOESN'T BELIEVE IN GOD OF COURSE BUT HE DOES BELIEVE PEOPLE NEED HOPE. THE HARDEST THING HE COULD DO IS BELIEVE IN HIMSELF SO HE'D RATHER BELIEVE IN ANYTHING ELSE.

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ART BY WAKAYUU

云 / YUNN

 

[thadine]

W.I.P - please check back later for completed sections.

| N A M E |
Elias Grant

| A G E |
30.

| G E N D E R|
Male.

| O R I E N T A T I O N |
Straight.

| R O L E |
Bounty Hunter.

| C U R S E |
Claustrophobia, fear of confined spaces .
His eyes are narrowed, one lid beginning to close as he focuses through the scope. Down the valley, a man on horseback stares into the distance, pistol pointed up to the sky, ready to fire off warning shots. He was looking in the wrong direction, completely unaware of the bounty hunter staring down the scope to the back of his head. Elias's finger begins to tighten around the trigger, the robotic attachment on his arm steadying his hand. He breathes in — breathes ... no, wait — he doesn't breathe. Elias's chest tightens. He can feel his throat beginning to constrict. The air is sucked out of his lungs as if he was just punched in the gut. Focus, focus...take the shot. His body betrays him and he is instead completely frozen, watching as his target begins to ride out of sight, slipping into the shadow of the valley. His gun drops to the ground with a thud as he kneels down. He's gone through this hundreds, if not thousands, of times. He was well-rehearsed.

His head tilts back and he stares up into the wide, open, unfettered sky, his lips slightly parted, breath exiting his mouth in violent, ragged sighs. Elias spreads his arms out, now completely looking like a madman praying to the skies. Panic begins to swell in his chest as he feels that familiar pressure at his throat, his breastbone. There's only space. Move your fingers, grasp the air. He pulls at the air as if it was a lifeline, and slowly, the weight begins to lift. His vision begins to refocus — anything in his field of vision usually rushes toward him, as if suddenly closing in. Cold air fills his lungs as he sucks in a breath through clenched teeth. It was fine. At least he wasn't indoors. Elias reaches for his rifle, rises to his feet, and positions to aim. Through his scope, the top of a man's head rises out of a shadow in the distance. He fires.

| P E R S O N A L I T Y |
Lawful Neutral
| Reserved | Dutiful | Responsible |
Quiet - reserved - Sense of duty and responsibility - at the worst of times can appear sullen, preferring to ignore those that agitate him rather than argue or retort. At the best of times, will offer a kind smile and encouragement. He likes his alone time and his reading. He isn't particularly guarded, per se -- at times he can be an open book. Treats his work like the job it is. He doesn't hate it, he doesn't love it. Tries to stay level-headed and collected, believing it to somehow elevate him or at least be an improvement over his younger, rash, irrational self. Under great stress he might crack. Suppresses a lot of anger.

| A P P E A R A N C E |
Face claim: David Enrico
Still dresses as if he is the son of a well-to-do pastor - dresses in mostly black and white. Of course, the "white" shirts are mostly now a permanent shade of beige, with the occasional blood-stain he wasn't able to scrub out. Has hazel eyes. When he has had the time to do himself up, he looks unusually....[i]soft[/i] for a bounty hunter. Keeps his facial hair well-maintained. Since his weapon of choice is usually long-range rifles, he wears an attachment on his arm (under his shirt) that extends all the way to his index and middle finger. Thin metal pieces in a joint-like structure rest on the back of his fingers, and then at the wrist it wraps around his arm on both sides. This is to steady his arm and prevent him from shaking when aiming/firing. Lean build, approx. 5'10.

| B A C K S T O R Y|
Father was a pastor (son of a preacher man) - seems ironic that the son of a pastor, who espoused belief in the sacredness of all life, ended up being a hired gun. Punished with worse version of curse as punishment for his anger.

​

 

[Viper Actual]

Herald of Gaia​

Name:
Malcolm Ivan Theodore Kowalczyk-Espinoza II

Age:
Late 50s

Gender:
Male

Orientation:
Unknown

Role:
Involved - Wandering Merchant and Religious Prophet of Gaia

Curse:
Mysophobia/Bacteriophobia; The pathological fear of contamination and germs.

Dressed in thick robes and protected by layers upon layers of cloth and metal, Malcolm sees the world through a triple-layered lens and breathes the air after it passes through a somewhat excessive breathing apparatus.

The very thought of bare skin- naked, exposed, vulnerable- makes him shiver and jitter. It's a difficult curse to have been bestowed with, one that had been impossible for his grandfather to mask within the confined safety of one of the great cities.

For Malcolm however it's a part of his life and a constant factor to account for in every decision and action out in the great wastelands. He has no choice but to cover and shield himself, for out here nothing is clean or pure.

Personality:
Quiet, reserved and difficult to read, Malcolm tends to travel alone and in silence. Be that because of his masked visage or because of the message he spreads as a Prophet of Gaia, nobody truly knows. Those that do trade with him know him to be fair and kind and those few that consider him a friend know him to be a loyal friend that will help to carry any burden and aid anyone in need.

Appearance:
Few have witnessed Malcolm without his hood and breathing apparatus and of those none have- at least publicly- spoken about what he might look like underneath. Some theorize that he's horribly disfigured- a punishment from a roving gang of bandits- or that he's near-alien in appearance, due to experiments conducted by The Cities.

Malcolm has a seemingly average build, though most of his torso and legs are too covered to say for sure.

Backstory:
To the followers of Gaia Malcolm is said to have spawned from the dawn itself, heralding the winds of change as Gaia- Mother Earth- begins to reclaim her world from the greed and corruption of Humans.

In reality, Malcolm is originally Cityborn. He was around three years old when his grandfather- a respected chief scientist- was banished alongside the rest of his family after security forces discovered his true curse. Branded as undesirable despite years of loyal service the family of eight were dropped off in the middle of nowhere.

Following that event young Malcolm's life would be filled with tragedy as his family passed away, one by one. By the age of twelve he was alone and left to fend for himself and by the age of fifteen he was picked up by a wandering caravan who adopted Malcolm as one of their own.

From there he was taught the tools of the trade until he himself was ready to depart and stake out his own path as a wandering merchant. It's a difficult life, but it is also humble and free.

Later down the line Malcolm returned to his old caravan, now speaking of a great prophecy that had been set in motion. He was not the only one however as similar whispers began to echo across the great wastelands, perhaps bearing some truth to it?

Other:
While he considers himself a man of peace, Malcolm is no stranger to violence and is always armed in one way or the other. If he's not armed with his Outlaw Light Patrol Rifle- nicknamed 'Diana', as inscribed on the side- he has a wide assortment of concealed pistols, flash grenades and blades to defend himself with.

 

[Daniel Reaving]

Name:
Little man
Age:
24
M
Orientation:
Straight
Curse:
Radiophobia The fear of radiation

Little man is to put it in the simplest explanation possible a living nuclear detonation. A man whose curse changed his very being into that of a living Nuclear reaction inside a suit, his body constantly pours out radiation and heat like a nuclear reactor. Perhaps the biggest curse to him though isn’t the fact he can never be free of his suit again but instead the fact that he unlike other nuclear materials doesn’t have a half life, quite the opposite in fact where his half life doesn’t weaken or dwindle how radiological he is but instead increases it. The suit he was sealed in a marvel of technology in its own right, powered on Little man’s curse and designed to keep him fully contained for eternity, completely and permanently sealed never to be opened again
Appearance:

Little man’s true appearance is entirely unknown due to his curse but when it comes to his suit it’s best to see it as his actual appearance. A massive hulking suit of metal standing around 12-15 feet tall and weighing about 4 tons. Little man’s suit was designed to contain his curse and its ability to withstand damage and the power it has being nothing more than a byproduct of it needing to be strong enough to withhold the curse. In addition to it the suit is permanently sealed Around him not that you’d want to open it up. The name little man comes from a plate on the back of his armors neck with those words engraved onto it

Personality:
Little man despite his hulking demeanor and his current role as a bounty hunter is to put it simply the dumb giant with a heart of gold. Being mute due to the suit Little man has learned to talk through actions and gestures but he is an overly kind and loving being, often to kind Little man always wants to help in any way he can, even if it’s sometimes to the detriment of those he’s trying to help but make no mistake about his kind demeanor. Little man is still a brutal war machine and possible one of the most brutal hunters around, often simply utilizing his strength and weight to simply crush those who attack or oppose him. When it comes to children though is when Little man’s biggest soft spot. He has an undying and eternal love for children and the youth in general. He loves being around them, playing with them, letting them play on him just as long as the innocent are around and having fun Little man is in bliss. Perhaps the only time he will forsake everyone else is when children are in danger, being so overly protective of them Little man would and has been known to sacrifice and simply leave adults behind while saving children. He’s even brought a few orphans he’s found on his adventures to the town.

Backstory:
Little man was born in a secluded area far from the chaos of the world outside. Deep in an underground base filled with scientists and engineers were where he took his first moments in life but that time didn’t last long. His curse showed himself before he was 5 years old. Tripping off Geiger Muller’s everywhere he went it truly didn’t take long before those around him found the source. Truthfully it was pure luck he survived, there were a million other ways to deal with little man but of all that this community of scientists and engineers could have done they chose to build him a suit. Over the years the population dwindled but even as they fell one by one to the radiation that he produced they worked and at the age of 9 the suit was completed Little man was put into it. Everyone was dead, destroyed and consumed by Little man’s radiation he was left alone. His parents last dying breaths and moments having been taken finally sealing away their son in this eternal armor. He stayed for a while but eventually Little man had to leave the dark confined mountain and his family behind so into the world he went, a wandering beast among these wastes until finally after years of searching, having forgotten his name, the touch of another person or even the company of others he came across a town and hasn’t left it since.

Other:

 

[B E A R]

yue , honglian

❛ the doctor ❜ ᅳ 月红莲

shadow

zhou shen

this ruthless world disregards the facts and truths

code by opaline

❝ hold , let me sleep first . ❞

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  general

  name

  yue, honglian
  

  nickname

  lotus, red, xiao lian
  

  age

  twenty one, if you ask her -- around twenty six if you check her id
  

  gender

  female ( she/her )
  

  sexuality

  she does not put much thought into this nor does she really care
  
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  appearance

  height

  5'7" or 170 cm
  

  distinctive feature(s)

  a pale red birthmark on her left shoulder that is shaped like a lotus
  

  description

  standing at approximately 5'7" ( 170 cm ) with a athletic figure, as she tends to climb up high places and tends to gather most of her herbal ingredients herself; which calls for her to be at least on the active side.
  
  unfortunately, throughout her body, there's constantly bruises or cuts all over her body -- due to her curse. some bruises seems to appear worse than the other and some cuts seems worse than the other, but it had become a normal setting for her. although relatively alarming for new people who works with her or anyone who had just met her.
  
  honglian has long auburn red hair that reaches past her waist, almost to the back of her knees but she tends to put up in a hairstyle that is a bit more .. manageable. reason why she hasn't cut it? no reasons at all, she has been too lazy to want to cut her hair. it has become a bit of a comfort thing for her now, as she is very accustomed to it.
  

  artist

  鸩由川
  
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  persona

  virtues

  
  

  • intellect: honglian loves knowledge and has spent a good amount of her life reading books, learning new things from other people and just from experiences. leading her to have a large amount of knowledge on vast amount of topics, although this can cause for her to have relatively bad memory on certain things.
  • protective: if she has taken a fond on a person or people, she is definitely a relatively loyal person to have on your side -- almost willing to do anything to help and protect said person or people.
  • social: in order for her to acquire more knowledge, she has learned to be relatively social and earn people's liking towards her -- only when she really wants to act this way -- but she is relatively social and can somehow sneak her way into conversations that had nothing to do with her to begin with.

  vices

  
  

  • detached: despite having high skills on socializing, honglian is actually a relatively detached person -- she has a hard time to fully understand why people feel certain ways, but she does not show it. she likes to pretend that she is emotionally intelligent but in reality, honglian cannot actually understand it.
  • cunning: honglian's words are hard to fully trust at times, at least during usual conversations, it's hard to trust. nobody knows if she's being truthful or not, as she has developed a bad habit of lying. although it is bad overall, to not being able to trust what she says, it's a good thing for her to be able to lie and get what she needs and wants.
  • turbulent: this particular doctor is actually someone who loves the unpredictable, so much so, that she will almost always pick for the chaotic option. this could very easily lead to a very dangerous moments, at times, honglian doesn't know her limits because of her love for chaos and the unpredictable. this can cause for honglian to not know her own limits when it comes to pushing people's buttons.

  likes

  books, knowledge, herb ( including the smell of herbs ), fights, weapons, and thunderstorms
  

  dislikes

  mess ( ex. dirty places ), emotional people, pungent smells, dust, and chicken meat
  

  fears

  she has a fear of emotional intimacy
  
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  background

  trigger warning: abuse, alcoholic, and violence.
  
  at a very young age, honglian's family has always been relatively chaotic -- she lived with her father, mother, and two younger sisters.
  her father was a abusive household member, due to not being able to earn enough to provide for the family and not having a healthy way of coping with displeasure. he had tendencies of beating up everyone in the family for as long as honglian could remember. the only time they've ever gotten peace is when honglian's father passes out from his curse, which was passed onto the young honglian -- it was momentarily but it was the only peace they've ever gotten besides her father going out for work.
  
  it was a fight every day for years and years, honglian had constantly tried to protect her young sisters and her mother trying to protect them. they could only do their best and listen to what her father had to say and what he wanted...
  
  honglian wanted to help her family out and wanted to get out of the house, with every opportunity that she got -- at the age of 6, she had started her path of working with medicine, knowing that there was a lack of in that department. she had begged every single doctor that was in the small abandoned town they were in, to just take her in and teach her whatever they can. it was not until the last doctor that she had begged on her knees, did she finally get a teacher.
  
  ❝ currently, honglian is around the age of 14 ❞
  within a seemingly ghost town lives a small handful amount of people, doing whatever it takes to get by each day; the barren fields, the lack of water and food. a young girl with locks bright like the autumn red leaves could be seen running through the quiet town, creating small puffs of dust with each step. soft pants could be heard as sweat trickled down her forehead, it was just another hot desert day for this young doctor apprentice. she was on her last trip to a customer who had requested for cough medicine. her soft pants matching with each step she took, honglian’s hands clutched on tightly to the neatly packed herbs. " i just need to bring it to her, then i go home. bring it. go home. bring it. go home. " as if it was some sort of chant, honglian was just whispering to herself as she was slowing down her speed to a speed walk as the young girl was nearing her destination.
  
  standing in front of the door of the patient, honglian quickly pats down the dust off of her dull colored dress, wanting to look half decent before she presents the medicine. after regaining her breathe, the young red headed girl raised a hand in a loosely clenched fist — making contact with the frail wooden door a couple of times. " hello, ma’am ! i have your cough medicine ! " started off quietly, honglian’s voice ramped up in volume by a bit at the end of her sentence. fidgeting with the tied strings around the medicine package, the young girl was waiting for an answer. hearing the soft sounds of someone fidgeting with the lock from the inside — " oh hello, little flower ! you are here just on time ! " the young girl immediately gave the required medication to the elder woman, " here you go , ms. blanche ! i hope this makes you feel better ! " the little girl chirped happily, although as she was about to leave, she heard the elderly calling for herself.
  
  " here you are , I don’t have much to give you in return , but i hope this will help your family . now hurry up home , little flower , the sun is setting . " grabbing a small bag of dried jerky made from variety of meats, the older woman with snow milky white hair handed it to the small doctor to be and patted the bright red locks with a loving touch. " thank you , ms. blanche ! i am also saying thank you for my family ! " clutching to the little brown bag with both of her little hands, the young child started rapidly bowing her head down -- showing as much respect as she could possibly show to the elderly woman. " i hope you feel better soon ! thank you and bye bye mrs. blanche ! "
  
  scurrying off into the sunset -- not like the looney toons -- the autumn haired girl was excited to show her family what she had gotten from today's task. " daddy will be happy , right ? he won't hit mommy anymore .. he won't hit little sisters anymore .. " her bright silver eyes trails down to the brown bag in her hands, gently rubbing it with both of her thumbs. her eyes glistens with water, the more she thought about it, the sadder the little girl had gotten.
  
  a small hut was finally coming into view after honglian had ran from one end of the run down town to the other end, she was finally home. as the autumn haired female stopped in front of her small humble home, it felt stranged.. it felt really off.. it was too quiet, although her family was very much flawed and they weren't necessarily a loving home.. usually there was some sort of movement and noises happening behind the run down clay walls.. lifting up a hand, honglian places her hand against the cold wooden door with hesitation. as honglian pushes open the door with a lot of caution, " hello ? .. "
  
  it was like there was an invisible wall that separated the outside world and her home. the distinct smell of iron hitting her in the face like a punch, her breathing getting stuck in her throat as the familiar scent got whisked into her nose. as the door slowly creaked open, it revealed a scene that nobody should ever see, let alone a kid. crimson liquid splattered across the wall, dripping down, and blood oozing out from injuries that belongs to her mother and two little sisters.. the young girl froze in disbelief, it did not seem real, it seemed like it was just.. an awful dream.. slightly to the left of the bodies stood a towering figure, her bright silver eyes travels over and it flickered with fear. blood decorated across the attire and across the sharp but frail looking features that belonged to none other than her father. " pa ... papa ? ... " her breathing hitches with each syllable, dropping her small brown bag onto the wooden floor -- honglian stumbles forward towards the corpses that belonged to her family members.
  
  " what .. what happened to mama .. what happened to my little sisters ? .. " tripping over the fallen over chairs, honglian fell onto all fours -- splash. the barely warm blood splattering onto her own attire that was dusted with sand and dirt. her eyes were in a constant state of shock as she had fallen into her family's blood. " they're just .. sick , right ? " stuttered breathing as honglian slowly crawls over to her fallen mother, eyes still wide open. from the position of the bodies, it looked like her own mother had been trying her best to protect her two younger sisters. the young girl seems to be finally regaining a bit of her senses as she got closer and closer, " mama .. mommy .. please .. " whispering softly as her small hands grasps onto the cotton material, soaked with blood. grasping at it as if she didn't, the corpses will disappear from the floor. " mama !! please ! wake up !! i know how to cure you , please ! " in between sobs, " i learned how to make medicine , i can learn how to cure you and sissies !! " her face buried into the body of her mother, her other hand reaching to grab a hold of her younger siblings. the young child sobs louder and louder, but there were no responses from any of them. it was so quiet.. it was just.. so quiet.
  
  a sharp and distinguish pain shot through her scalp as a strong hand gripped onto her long red locks, tinged with blood now -- " shut up !! they are dead because of you !! you couldn't do anything to help with this family !! it was always me , nobody else in this fucking family helped !! all of you guys are useless !! " as honglian was being lifted up from the ground by her hair, all she could hear was her father shouting into her ear. the young girl's hands clutches onto the hand that held a grip on her hair. " papa , please !! i can still save them !! " all her pleads and tears were shed in vain, her father has gone too far. the other free of her father was found wrapped around tightly around the young girl's throat -- her lungs burned from the lack of oxygen. her throat in pain from the strength that the adult man was applying. gasping and wheezing for any air she could get into her system, but to no avail. " they are dead because of you , it wasn't my fault . if you had learned faster , if you had knew more !! i wouldn't have to work so hard for you guys ! " the voice boomed in the small hut as honglian was scratching at the arm that held her up by her throat.
  
  her vision was started to blur, dots of black scattered throughout her vision and mixed with the tears -- the red haired girl used the last bit of energy that she could muster to grab the small knife attached to her back, slicing radial artery on the wrist. the radial artery is the main artery that supplies blood to the hand and wrist. practically immediately, the male had dropped honglian and shouted in pain. the tall male fell to his knees, clutching onto his majorly injured wrist and screaming in pain. " you fucking little brat !! " as the young girl crashed into the floor, honglian's hand clutches tightly onto the knife as she had coughed and gasped for air. the fresh air finally reaching her lungs and fueling her once again, soft wheezes can be heard from the almost crushed airway. " you ... killed ... them .. " she coughed out, forcing herself back onto her feet but stumbling as she was still recovering from the lack of oxygen. " you killed .. them !! " the autumn haired girl shouted, as loud as she possibly could, at the very least. gripping onto the handle with both of her hands, weak from the attack from her father -- honglian clutches tightly as she runs into her father.
  
  thud. the tall male had fallen onto his back. the sound of gurgling could be heard in the small house. the smell of fresh blood was airborne.. the smell of iron.. the man, who was once the father, laid on his back choking on his blood.. the small knife imbedded into his throat.. it was the last time honglian has ever seen her family..
  
  
• i.

  ii.

  iii.

  iv.

  v.

  miscellaneous

  curse

  her great great great grandfather had developed a fear for sleeping. why? well, her great great great grandfather was having constant nightmares of honglian's great great great grandmother constantly chasing him with a pan and smacking him. it was a tad bit of an insane nightmare, but it developed into a fear of sleeping.
  
  due to that, it causes for their family to develop the curse of just falling asleep randomly?? it doesn't happen to every single one of them, BUT it does happen to honglian. there's absolutely no warning and honglian could literally fall asleep at the wrong time or just stand there asleep. sometimes the sleep can last for a few seconds, sometimes it lasts for hours, and rarely it would end up lasting for a few days !! but most of the times, honglian will end up falling asleep standing there while organizing her herbs, just for a few seconds tho.
  
  ps. this is exactly why honglian is constantly covered in bruises and cuts, the constant sleeping causes for her to sometimes to just tip over and fall which does cause for her to wake up abruptly when she feels pain.
  
  

  fun facts

  
  

  • she always carries a knife that her teacher gave her, it is usually used for cutting herbs -- but it seems like she knows how to use a knife a lot better than just for gathering materials
  • absolutely fascinated with different variety of weapons, will do anything to get her hands on rarer weapons
  • due to the odd infatuation with fights, honglian is actually a pretty decent spar partner -- although most wouldn't really ask for her to spar with them because she might fall asleep at any given moment
  • cannot cook for the life of her, she will burn anything to a crisp unless it has to do with herbs, it seems like a curse too
  • will throw up at the sight of chicken meat

  
  

 

[Daniel Reaving]

Name:
Anais
Age:
9
Gender:
Female

Orientation:

Curse: Anais doesn’t currently show signs of having any curse

Personality:
Many people say than with the way this world is no one should be as innocent and happy as Anais especially after what has happened. She is a sweet, hyper, innocent ball of just joy and sunlight and makes sure everyone knows how happy she is to see them. Running all over town every day just to see everyone and say hi to them. Trying to help anyway she can just to brighten the days a little more Anais feels it’s her duty to make everyone happy and have a good day.

Appearance:

Backstory:
Anais wasn’t originally from the town but under the circumstances of when she came to it she was quickly accepted. Her family were nomads among the world with a group. Growing up on the road exploring the world and trading with every city and town they come to. It was the life really, a well defended safe till a curse hit their entire group, a curse of petrification that consumed the tribe of nomads one by one like a virus. It wasn’t long till only Anais and the nomad doctor and chief were left. All already afflicted and struggling they fought their hardest to get to town if only to save the last child of their tribe. As the petrification started in her feet and was eating its way up drastic measures were taken to save her. The doctor passed but their tribal leader continued on with Anais, now with her legs completely amputated as best the adults could do he spent his last breaths and strained steps carrying Anais to town. Taking solace as the stone petrification took its final phases in taking him he handed the weak and dying girl to the town. Thankfully despite the poor amputations Anais was saved and given the only prosthetics that weee available at the time. Alone, orphaned, and with new legs Anais was welcomed into town as one of their own.

Other:
Anais’s original legs were lost to a curse. Her new legs as can be seen are based on a horse, they were originally a full robot that was deconstructed and retrofitted into being prosthetics for Anais when she came to town. A design meant to grow and upgrade as Anais ages she will never outgrow her prosthetics as the technology was designed to grow and be easily upgraded as she grows. Due to the desperate “botch” amputation Anais had to go through these prosthetics has to be permanently augmented onto the girl. In addition the back half of it is designed to detach, giving Anais the choice to walk on two or four legs though she much more enjoys four.

 

[ZarbofftheFirst]

Name: Roderick “Roddy” Zachary Belfort

Age: 36

Gender: Male (He/Him)

Orientation: Bisexual

Role: Sheriff

Curse: Ornithophobia - the fear of birds
Roddy is deeply afraid of birds. Crows, pigeons, even chickens to some degree. He is especially afraid of larger birds like eagles and vultures. When he sees birds, he gets a chill down his spine, and his thoughts become disorganized.

Much time fighting the curse has made him at least able to function under the curse’s effects. He does his best to avoid birds when possible, such as shooting at vultures if he discovers a body. However, prolonged exposure can make him lock up in place.

Personality: Roddy is a deeply cynical trickster. Years of conversing and shooting at dishonorable men has made him doubtful about human life, or, “better angels.” He is dependable, to a point. If he smells something off he is likely to dip out the back door, even on friends.

Roddy is however always up for a dance, a party, or anything in between. He still chases thrills, maybe to run to something, or run away from something.

Appearance: Roddy is a wrinkled, smoke marked older man with a blend of brown and grey hair, often gelled to shape. His large square face always has a grin.

Roddy is thin, and at 5’7’’ most don’t see him as threatening. He often wears thick shirts, reinforced pants, and high boots. On short, cold trips he wears a heavy black jacket. On long trips with lots of walking included he wears a brown duster. He only wears his white, wide brimmed hat with his sheriff’s star on the front when he’s doing “official business” which is almost every day.

Backstory: Roddy’s mother was a school teacher, and his father an armed guard in one of the more established cities, New Memphis. Roddy grew up a troublemaker, and was often on the wrong side of the law in New Memphis. One day the lawman Sheriff August Brown gave him an ultimatum; either he’s taken out back by the refuse mill and “recycled,” or leave New Memphis and never return. Roddy left New Memphis with not much but his clothes and some food.

Roddy suffered for a long time in the outside world, only just getting by on the hunting, bartering, and working he could get in the random towns of the accursed Earth. But he developed true grit.

Roddy grew up to do trouble for a good cause so to speak. Herding the last remaining free cattle of the plains, being the gun to bring down one of many men of ill repute, and fixing up guns for honest enough pay.

Roddy got the sheriff gig from his gift of gab, as well as his skill with weaponry. Keeping the peace is sometimes easier with your mouth than a gun. He is considered old in a young man’s game. The only ones who get old play the game well.

Other:

Equipment:

Conagher Arms Mark 2 Pistol (Modified)

10 rnds of 9x19mm

One of many tube pistols of the common era, the CA Mark 2 is a pistol common with police forces in a few allied cities. It is lightweight, and easy to modify. There are even some versions with stocks and bipods for short range hunting.

Lead and brass are still relatively cheap compared to the fusion cells of energy weapons, making it a steal for dirt poor desperados as well.

Roddy acquired his off of a dead city raider, and has added a suppressor, a flashlight, and a scope, as well as a lead fishing weight in the handle to make tilt drawing from the hip lightning fast.

C: Aaron Cross

Davidson Model 2700 (Modified)

7+1 12 gauge

If you have two eyes and two ears, you’ve likely seen or heard a Davidson shotgun in use. They come from a small city, Verdant Springs, and are built on three pillars: cheap, reliable, and fixable. Numerous copies exist in the world, but all of them do the same thing, send lead down range.

Roddy bought his off a trader some time ago. It damn near cost him an arm and a leg, but the shotgun came with a Moreno Combat Package. An improved pump spring, lighter frame, a top rail, and a stock with storage space for a field kit. It seemed like a stolen piece destined for a military outfit, but that didn’t matter to Roddy, he just wanted the gun.

C: Dale Hise

Bowed Knife

After hundreds of years of language corruption, what was long ago called a Bowie Knife is now often called a Bowed knife. A Bowed knife has a long, wide blade, often with a curved handle, and a dropped point. It works for dressing killed animals, batoning wood, cutting brush, and even the odd knife fight. Roddy doesn’t do much knife fighting, but this survival tool is always on his person.

C: Arham Cutlery

Skills:
Skilled with pistols
Proficient with shotguns
Proficient with animals and animal taming
Proficient negotiator
Novice gunsmith
Novice pickpocket
Novice vehicle operator

 

[SavannahSmiles]

code by opaline

achluophobia

fear of darkness

basics

full name —

Elodie

nickname —

Ellie

age —

14

gender —

Female

pronouns —

She/Her

sexuality —

Pansexual

role—

Kid

curse

she who walks in darkness—

Elodie was cursed with Achluophobia, the fear of darkness. Randomly and without warning, darkness covers her vision and she will temporarily lose her ability to see. No matter how bright the light may be, Elodie sees nothing but a never-ending void of darkness. The duration of this curse varies, there are times where she only loses her sight for a couple of minutes but there have been moments where it has lasted for over an hour.

appearance

height —

4'7" | 140 cm

weight—

90 lbs | 41 kg

hair —

Long, blonde curls that tumble towards her waist. Most days Elodie will let her curls tumble loose around her shoulders or she will pull small sections away from her face and secure them with a bow at the back of her head, with some loose pieces framing her heart-shaped face.

eye color —

Her pale green eyes are her most noticeable feature, set in a heart-shaped face with rounds cheeks and a delicate nose. They are generally bright with joy but will turn a darker green whenever she is upset.

build —

Lithe and slender, Elodie seems small for a girl her age and is often mistaken for being younger than she actually is.

persona

fears —

That one day her sight wont return and she would be left to live in the darkness.

Elodie can be described as very quiet, someone that generally blends into the background. Elodie rarely speaks out-loud unless she has need to and even then her tone is rather soft and gentle. Rarely would Elodie ever raise her voice unless absolutely necessary.

Elodie can be shy towards those she does not know, especially those she has never seen before; it would not be uncommon for her to hide behind someone nearby when confronted with a stranger, green eyes peeking out at the person warily.

She is fairly decent at masking her emotions, which leads others to believe that she is calm and collected but in reality, she is just able to hide how she is truly feeling.

A kind-hearted soul by nature, Elodie's empathetic tendencies lead her to lending a helping hand whenever she is able and she is unable to turn away from a person in need of help. She can be quite gullible at times, which when combined with her empathetic nature, can lead her to being fooled by those with ill-intentions.

Elodie can also be a bit of a perfectionist; she tends to be very hard on herself when she is unable to complete a task to her satisfaction and she has a bad habit of comparing her accomplishments (or lack there of) to the accomplishments of others.

Due to her masking her emotions at times, instead of confronting her negative emotions in a healthy way, Elodie bottles them up until she is eventually over-whelmed by them.

background

{I can edit her backstory if anyone is interested in Elodie being related to their character, just let me know ^^}

Elodie doesn't remember her parents very well. Her mother died during giving birth to her and her father disappeared shortly after that. With no other family to call her own, Elodie was left in the care of the other townsfolk. But she wasn't lonely, growing up with the other children in the town. As she grew older she tried her best to help out when she could, hoping to shoulder some of the burden of looking after the other children.

misc.

relationships —

open for plotting

artist credit —

top left: zel231 - Hobbyist, Digital Artist | DeviantArt
top right: Pinlin User Profile | DeviantArt
bottom left: Sh1ve - Student, Digital Artist | DeviantArt
bottom middle & right: BisBiswas - Professional, Digital Artist | DeviantArt

headcanons —

↬ Scrunches up her nose when she is confused about something
↬ Taps her fingers together when she is trying to lie
↬ Twirls her hair when she is nervous
↬ Tends to force a smile when she is upset or angry, she pretends that everything is fine
↬ She tends to hum softly to herself whenever she is concentrating on something
↬ Tends to walk around silently, like a cat. Probably needs a little ankle bracelet with a bell on it to avoid spooking people.

 

[Toivoajarakkaus]

({[WIP]})
Name​

“Aisling. And I mean Aisling. Not ‘Ais’. Not ‘Ling’. Not ‘Sling.’ Aisling … No family name to carry.”
Aisling Kabus… Last name is scratched out…

Age​

“Old enough to drink, smart enough not to.”
37

Gender​

“They/Them, Sir, Milady, I’ve got other things to worry about then how you address me.”
Agender (Leans more to masculine terms, but will accept feminine titles)

Orientation​

“… You really like pushing your nose where it ain’t needed.”
Pansexual

Role​

“I’m just someone trying to keep this circus running.”
Deputy

Curse​

“I’m bloody fine. Things need to be done and I’d rather them actually get done than wait for someone else to do it.”
It seems silly to be afraid of the ‘Bogeyman’. Something you search the beneath of children’s beds to ease such childish fears… But no one wants to wake up to eyes staring at them from the darkness. The feeling of claws scraping along their scalp… Blood seeping into their eyes. Waking up choking, wheezing through a handprint branded around your throat. It’s hard to tell if the injuries Aisling sustains after rest are self-inflicted. No documentation of any entities that can be contributed to Aisling have been found near or around the settlement at this time. Not that Aisling lets it occur anyways. Sleeping. Anything remotely like rest. Anything that lets the shadows linger in the corners of their mind… Or room. Only the doctors know the full extent of what Aisling’s done in their desperation to stay awake. They run themselves ragged. Anything to prevent the night terrors from hell.

Personality​

“I do not have a stick up my-“
Stressed. Stress is practically their entire identity. Keeping themselves awake. Keeping the town running. Giving them a pretty well known grumpy addittude. Despite their sourpuss state, Aisling cares. Cares too much to be honest. It’s part of the reason they work themselves to near death. Staying up to ensure the town’s safety. Always going, going, going… Until they drop. And being twice as stubborn to avoid having help to get back up.
Appearance:
Backstory: (details are optional!)
Other: