http://www.bay12forums.com/smf/index.php?topic=153669.0 <--OOC Thread
The air is so much cleaner, now.
There aren't enough people left to dirty it up again. The great machines of society have stopped, the grand mechanisms of industry and economy coming to a shuddering halt. Nature is slowly inching back from the brink-even now, the great Whales are beginning to repopulate the seas...the Timber Wolves howl and prey once more in the hills of places once known as 'Wisconsin' and 'Minnesota'...the former United States is becoming the wild, dangerous, untamed place it was once, and perhaps always was-and now, it will be again. The Rotters don't care about animals. One of those odd things. They usually ignore them, though Rotter Animals are not unheard of...
This probably matters little to the subjects of our story-a small band of tempest tossed men and women who have survived, despite all that has been thrown against them until now. Most of them can't remember a time when they ever felt safe. There had always been the War. Tarrak vessels, shaped like the blades they were named for, streaking from the sky...sowing death and destruction...Tarraks Ground Troops-looking so much like us-dropping down in the millions...their massive war machines still little the world, like so many crushed metal insects...one wonders if the victory was worth the cost. Or if we truly did win, or merely enter another phase of the invasion...
...
Our small group is currently fleeing-that's the best word-South, to avoid the chill in the wind that preludes a long and harsh Winter. They were safe enough in the former Canadian Provinces, for a time. Rotters are not entirely fond of cold, and it makes them sluggish and easy to avoid. The same cold would have killed them all, perhaps-this group decided to move on, looking for warmer climates-it was an unspoken agreement that the party had become too large-too many mouths to feed, especially over Winter. So, some stayed. Others followed, and died-bandits, wild animals, rotters...vehicles broke down and were abandoned with a casual regularity. Nothing lasts long out here. You are thankful for what you have, and don't dare hope for more.
There are only seven left, now, on foot. They are desperate for shelter. Their supplies are thin. There's not going to be a return trip. Even if they could make it back, those they left may not let them in.
...
They've been walking quite a long time, but civilization-as it is-its getting closer. Empty gas stations and fast food kiosks, most already being reclaimed by the forests, are more abundant. Mostly empty, of course. It's hard to find anything these days that hasn't been picked over a half dozen times-and if it's not been scavenged, there's usually a good reason...
The cracked cement road they're walking on is in poor shape-it's likely in a few years, the cracks will become gaps, then giant fissures that will make wheeled travel an impossibility. Back to riding horses. A thought for the future, but for now...there's a sign.
A big one, placed at a seemingly arbitrary point on the side of the road.
The group pauses momentarily, taking in the stamped yellow metal, the words and the rude red spray paint someone defaced it with, perhaps leaving behind a warning, or baiting a trap-perhaps a crazed vandal sought to portray his thoughts. It's not like it comes as any sort of surprise.
The chickadees still twitter in the alder trees. There's not outward sign of any threat. The road goes on, if they want to take it.
...
As with most groups of survivors, the seven of them can't be said to fit perfectly together. They couldn't differ more-but, it's that exact reason that makes them stronger, than any one of them would be alone.
Jason Lane-a nondescript, every day guy. He's past the point of fearing death...but, not past the point where he won't fight it till his last breath. Solid as a rock, you might call him-his presence is stabilizing force among the Survivors. Unselfish, he spurns his own needs for others on his best days. A voice of calm and reason in a world gone mad...and, pretty good with a machete, when it comes down to it.
The one known only as 273. His build is rough, rocky-like a mountain that learned to walk. Armed with a well used pipe and seemingly able to endure any hardship. He revels in his newfound liberty, trying not to think of who might be looking for him, even now, what they might do if they take him back. He treasures every breath of air. Every bit of food. He has lived in a prison, of a world gone to Rot. Right now, he's never felt more alive...and free.
Gianna Piagratolli. Young in a world where you have to grow up fast-a girl clinging to her youth like a flotation device in a stormy sea. Part of her doesn't want go grow up, doesn't want to face this world-a life, in this world. The rest of her remembers who died to keep her alive, and tries to be strong, to be brave. Even if her only chances of survival are a bit of luck and how well she uses her wits. She still wields her hockey stick with the same grace she used to smack pucks in the Ice Vault Arena. Not more than a few times, was she glad she was born with an athletic streak.
Martin Bryant, better known was 'Doc'. A compassionate, intellectual man. He doesn't belong here. Part of him knows that people like him were supposed to die. His mind was to be extinguished, like so many others. But he did survive. The same hands that learned to save lives learned to wield a gun with brutal, clinical efficiency. He doesn't have many patients anymore...but, Martin Bryant still remembers who is, and what he does. He saves lives. As many as he can.
Johnson Holliday. A Lawman in a world with no laws to enforce. His eyes are usually haunted with the memories of those he failed to save, though never to the extent it clouds his vision. Slung over his shoulder is a weapon truly ancient in comparison-in a time where men could use pinpoint energy weapons and rail guns, such a primitive firearm best belonged in a museum...but in these times, it's solid dependability is a boon. It's weight and grip are a comfort to him. To remind him of his duty...which he feels he has failed, so many times, and so often. To protect and serve. These few lines often come to him, keeping him from despair. Even if he doesn't always live up, to his own ideals...
Ebony. When did the cliche become something more? When did the fashions of the Gothic subculture become something that resonated in the living world? The Dark Bards of the Wastelands. The Sirens of the Apocalypse. Ebony has embraced this-a woman with no past and an uncertain future-and become a symbol of something dark, moody, and mysterious...in a world of walking corpses, she seems something of a natural fit...her Katana, produced from old truck springs in a Chinese factory, cuts as well as any folded steel from the lost island of Japan. She keeps it carefully hidden, for to draw such a weapon requires the shedding of blood...
Harriet Frey. Another wanderer, cast adrift. She's had to learn how to live without the comfort of a roof. Or friends. Or family. Harriet has learned to do without a good deal of most things, and learning to live without has sharpened her senses, and honed her mind. Hunger has turned her into something else entirely, than who she was-true hunger, something she had never felt before the fall. Her heavy crowbar seems almost misplaced in her scrawny hands, but she has learned to use it...and done many things she's not proud of, to survive-and to help others survive. She has seen the best and worst of humanity, and put herself on the side of 'doing the right thing'-the hard thing. She knows enough that this ideal will lead to her own death...and, perhaps, accepts that.
Art courtesy of Glacies!
And this, is their story.
Supply Points=1
Followers: None
Refuge: None
Reputation
Canadian Union Caravan
Known (+1)
History
~Initial (+1)
~Embarked from the Caravan to find your own way South.
Raja's Stalkers
Unfriendly (-1)
History
~Initial (+0)
~They ambushed a lone member of your party, but everyone was cool, and no one was hurt. Except Doc. And they kidnapped Ebony.
~Ebony decided to be uncommunicative with her kidnappers. (-1)
The Legion of Sexius
Hostile (-3)
History
~Initial (+3)
~273 ungratefully escaped from Emperor Sexius's cell, despite his many crimes. Flat justitia ruat coelum!
Profile: Everyman
Survivor Type: Unselfish (Once per day, Jason gains +1 EXP when he puts the needs of the team above his own)
Look: Nondescript. A blank expression, an average height and build. Not what anyone would call conventionally attractive, not unusually fit. Wears a flannel and cargo pants, and a heavy jacket.
16/16 Fleshwounds remaining
Status: Healthy
Experience: 0
Stats:
Brains +1
Body +1
Guts +2
Sway 0
Moves
1. Signature weapon (Machete) [When using his signature weapon, Jason rerolls a 1 on his damage rolls]
2. Voice of reason [Jason can attempt to defuse a potential conflict by rolling his Sway.]
3. Don't you die on me [Allys gain +1 to their Cheat Death rolls when in the presence of Jason]
Wielding: (Machete)
Wearing: (Heavy jacket)(Armor)
Inventory
~ Plastic Flashlight
~ Bandages
~ Medicine
~ Heavy jacket
~ Machete
=
9/12 Load
Bio: Jason has no idea how he survived. Before the fall, he was training to be a nurse, but then the invasion happened. He's spent most of his time working for petty warlord types and caravans as a medic. As these groups fell to the rotters, he steadily traveled west from his home on the east coast. At this point, Jason doesn't fear death; he just doesn't see why he should succumb to it. He tends to go along with what others suggest and doesn't usually get very emotional. He screams in his sleep sometimes and has a hard time getting enough rest.
Ties:
Doc (The Company of the Caravan)
Harriet (The Company of the Caravan)
Profile: The Inmate
Survivor Type: Decisive (Once per day, 273 gains +1 EXP when he does what he thinks needs to be done, regardless of how others think.{Awarded for day1})
Look: I have rugged good looks.
I am thick and Barrel-Chested
I'm wearing an orange doc jumpsuit
16/16 Fleshwounds remaining
Status: Healthy
Experience: 1
Stats:
Brains +0
Body +2
Guts +1
Sway +1
Moves
1. Signature Weapon (Lead Pipe) [When using his signature weapon, 274 rerolls a 1 on his damage rolls]
2. Heavy hitter [When 274 rolls a 12 on his damage roll, he adds his body to the damage]
3. Not as Bad as it looked [274 regains a fleshwound after every fight that he was injured in]
Wielding: (Lead Pipe)
Wearing: (Orange prison jumpsuit)(Armor)
Inventory
Lead pipe
Medicine
Bandages
Matches
=
8/12 Load
Bio: As it turns out, people do still get angry if you steal their stuff. Number 273 learned that on accident while trying to steal supplies from Sexius's territory. He just happened to have the bad luck of Sexius also running one of the few functioning prisons in the area. He eventually managed to escape during a prison riot but he knows that one day he'll have to deal with that again. Hopefully, this time he won't be dragged behind a van though.
Ties:
Gianna (Surrogate Daughter)
Profile: Teenager
Survivor Type: Rebellious (Once per day, Gianna gains +1 EXP when she detours from the planned course of action)
Look:
I have...
A clear and healthy complexion.
I am....
About average.
I am wearing....
Jeans and a T.
16/16 Fleshwounds remaining
Status: Healthy
Experience: 0
Stats:
Brains +2
Body 0
Guts +1
Sway +1
Moves
1. Signature Weapon (Hockey Stick) [When using his signature weapon, Gianna rerolls a 1 on her damage rolls]
2. Lucky [Gianna rerolls double 1's on any move she makes]
3. Hide [Gianna can hide at a moments notice, and stay hidden.]
Wielding: (Field hockey stick)
Wearing: (Jeans and a t-shirt)(Armor)
Inventory
~ Plastic flashlight
~ Batteries
~ Food & water
~ Medicine
=
9/12 Load
Bio: Gianna grew up in Jersey Shore, New Jersey, and was the "princess" of her family. However, after the fall, and the loss of her family, Gianna has needed to learn how to defend herself, as well as others. Despite this, Gianna still has mainly remained the slightly bratty teenager, she was before the fall, but is perhaps somewhat more accustomed to the ways of the world.
Ties:
273 (Surrogate Father)
Profile: The MD
Survivor Type: Compassionate (Once per day, Doc gains +1 EXP when he helps someone who may not deserve it)
Look: Slender and slight, with a nervous tick and wearing ER scrubs
12/16 Fleshwounds remainingStatus:
Bolt in the Belly,Partially Treated
Doc has a crossbow bolt stuck in him. It's not life threatening by itself-in fact the bolt itself is keeping it from being worse-but, it'll have to be removed carefully to avoid further injury. He has wisely removed the shaft, and stabilized the wound. He still has to be careful, but as he takes his time he should be able to move without injuring himself.
Effects:
-1 Body Stat
Strenuous Physical Activity has a 25% of 1 fleshwound of damage per move. I.E, whenever you roll dice. This is recurring, adding up 25% each subsequent turn, and is reset after at least one round of non-action.
Experience: 0
Stats:
Brains 2 + 1
Body 0-1=-1
Guts 1
Sway 1
Moves
1. Signature Weapon (Revolver) [When using his signature weapon, Doc rerolls a 1 on his damage rolls]
2. Bring Back The Dead [Doc can use the trauma kit to revive a survivor who failed a cheat death roll.]
3. Smart [Doc gains plus 1 to his Brains stat. Rotters approve of this!]
Wielding: (Revolver) (2L)
Wearing: ()(Armor)
Inventory
~ Bandages (3 uses) (1L)
~ Medicine (1 use) (1L)
~ Trauma Kit (5 uses) (4L)
~ Ammo (3 uses) (2L)
~ Hand Grenade (2L)
=
12/12 Load
Bio: Doc was working as a surgeon in a hospital when it happened. The bodies in the morgue they... they just got back up and started eating everyone. He can't remember how he got out. It was chaos. People running and screaming and all the blood... but he knows a lot of people - his patients, his colleagues, his friends - didn't make it with him. He wandered for a time, helping keep the groups he was with healthy, until he came across the group he's with now.
Ties:
Jason Lane (The Company of the Caravan)
Harriet (The Company of the Caravan)
Profile: Lawman
Survivor Type: Heroic (Once per day, Johnson gains +1 EXP when he puts himself in harms way to aid another)
Look: ((Base)) A rugged looking, tall and lean, state trooper's uniform.
((Detail)) The apocalypse has been hard on Officer Holiday, and it shows. Naturally, shaving is not much a priority at this point, leaving him with permanent brown stubble and unkempt brown hair. His dark eyes, while not at the point of a thousand-yard stare, have their share of hardship in them. Even his cloths are beat up, with his sturdy trooper uniform dotted with damage and stains. He typically wears a cowboy hat, with less visible damage but just as much wear. Notably, on his left arm is an American Flag bandanna with "Holiday" written on it in sharpie being worn as an arm-band. It is currently worn upside-down, with the letters and what is visible of the flag being inverted. This had been used as a "Dog-Tag" in his first group, with every survivor being issued one as a uniform, serving a practical purpose to show who's body is who without having to get close.
16/16 Fleshwounds remaining
Status: Healthy
Experience: 0
Stats:
Brains +1
Body +2
Guts +0
Sway +1
Moves
1. Signature Weapon (Shotgun!) [When using his signature weapon, Johnson rerolls a 1 on his damage rolls]
2. Voice of Authority [Johnson can coerce a hostile-to surrender, run away or attack him-testing Sway]
3. Gun and Weapon Enthusiast [Johnson can expend a supply point and a tool kit to repair any firearm at the refuge.]
Wielding:
Shotgun (Winchester Model 1897~If applicable~)
Wearing:
State Trooper Uniform
Inventory
Ammo
Heavy-duty Flashlight
Batteries
Medicine12/12 Load
Bio:
Johnny Holiday was a "First Responder", one of the officers on duty when the initial calls came in. He didn't know what he was getting into at the time, things quickly fell apart afterwords. Not just for him, but the world. Trying to stop the chaos as the world fell apart was a futile task, let alone trying to stop the Rotters once the nations where gone. Once he realized this wasn't something he and his buddies could prevent with a shotgun, he formed a group with them for some time, taking in survivors from around the state. His early experiences with the Rotters traumatized him somewhat, not helped by the loss of his young wife and baby daughter in the chaos before hand. While he still shows bravery in his every day life, fighting off single rotters or small groups without showing noticeable fear, large groups leave him sweating and pulling at his collar, often ending when he does his best to get himself away. His initial group was working well, until a large group of Rotters hit it. It was gradual, one minute he was plugging badguys, the next there was more, then more, then more...He ended up panicking, retreating and leaving the group. Ashamed of his cowardice, he began wondering alone.
Ties:
Forever Alone
Profile: The Vagrant
Survivor Type: Heroic (Once per day, Harriet gains +1 EXP when she puts herself in harms way to aid another)
Look: Being only recently made homeless, Harriet's somewhat attractive face is not yet overly dirty, although her messy blonde hair has noticeable bits of dust and dirt in it. She's tall and lanky, seeming quite underfed, her dirty parka a bit to big for her.
16/16 Fleshwounds remaining
Status: Healthy
Experience: 0
Stats:
Brains: +2
Body: +1
Guts: +1
Sway: +0
Moves
1. Signature Weapon: Crow Bar [When using her signature weapon, Harriet rerolls a 1 on her damage rolls]
2. Sixth Sense [Harriet can study a situation to figure out if a place is likely to have something good to loot, and/or if it's going to be dangerous. The result of this roll is hidden, and her feelings can be inaccurate.]
3. Keen Observer [Harriet uses her Brains rather than her Guts when trying to read a person or situation]
Wielding:
(Crowbar, Close, durable, 3 load)
Wearing:
(Heavy Coat, 1 protection, 2 load)(Armor)
Inventory
Food and Water~1 use, 2 load
Bandages~Slow, Applied, 3 uses, 1 load
=
8/12 Load
Bio:
Ties:
Jason Lane (The Company of the Caravan)
Doc (The Company of the Caravan)
Author
Topic: Reign of Rot-Day 1 (Game Thread) (Read 10882 times)