Lorsh
Varlot
[so, this is a choice RP that I essentially DM. You play as an unnamed character, "The Refugee," which can be male or female. You have to make decisions, while I determine the outcome of those decisions, and describe the environment and people around you. There is a possibility that your character can die at any point.]
STORY
3 DAYS AFTER THE JASPER RIVER CONTAGION SURFACED.
You were driving home from the airport at 3 AM. The things that they were saying on the radio seemed anything but good. You had to check on your family.
A dark figure had appeared the middle of the road. It didn't move, and you swerved and ran into the trees.
Everything was a blur. Glass shards were embedded in your body, and you tasted blood in your mouth.
The dark figure descended upon your car, scratching at the door. More of them came from the trees, surrounding you at all sides.
The popping of gunfire became audible in the distance, and it grew closer. Soon, your car was getting blown full of holes. It's a miracle that none of the bullets hit you. You turned your head and saw blood splatter across your cracked window as the last of the creatures slumped over.
A dark green blur yanked open the door, and you immediately saw a knife come down on you. You began to struggle, but it was short-lived, for you quickly realized that it was merely slicing you away your seatbelt.
Rather roughly, you were pulled from your battered vehicle and placed on a stretcher. Your vision cleared up slightly, and you saw rifle-toting soldiers in gas masks rush by as you were lifted up and carried along. They put you in the back of a truck, where the faces of army medics soon hung over you.
--
They brought you to safety, where your wounds healed. Your family wasn't there, though.
They said they'd do a sweep of your town; rescue your family, bring them here.
You waited for so long, but they never did it. They finally admitted that they "didn't have the resources..."
You've rotted in this refugee camp for over five hundred days, aching to see your family. But they're gone. The rest of the world burned.
Still, you want to get out. They could still be out there. Maybe you're just crazy.
But the razorwire and armed men keep you from leaving.
STORY
3 DAYS AFTER THE JASPER RIVER CONTAGION SURFACED.
You were driving home from the airport at 3 AM. The things that they were saying on the radio seemed anything but good. You had to check on your family.
A dark figure had appeared the middle of the road. It didn't move, and you swerved and ran into the trees.
Everything was a blur. Glass shards were embedded in your body, and you tasted blood in your mouth.
The dark figure descended upon your car, scratching at the door. More of them came from the trees, surrounding you at all sides.
The popping of gunfire became audible in the distance, and it grew closer. Soon, your car was getting blown full of holes. It's a miracle that none of the bullets hit you. You turned your head and saw blood splatter across your cracked window as the last of the creatures slumped over.
A dark green blur yanked open the door, and you immediately saw a knife come down on you. You began to struggle, but it was short-lived, for you quickly realized that it was merely slicing you away your seatbelt.
Rather roughly, you were pulled from your battered vehicle and placed on a stretcher. Your vision cleared up slightly, and you saw rifle-toting soldiers in gas masks rush by as you were lifted up and carried along. They put you in the back of a truck, where the faces of army medics soon hung over you.
--
They brought you to safety, where your wounds healed. Your family wasn't there, though.
They said they'd do a sweep of your town; rescue your family, bring them here.
You waited for so long, but they never did it. They finally admitted that they "didn't have the resources..."
You've rotted in this refugee camp for over five hundred days, aching to see your family. But they're gone. The rest of the world burned.
Still, you want to get out. They could still be out there. Maybe you're just crazy.
But the razorwire and armed men keep you from leaving.
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