threedawg

Among the Ruined - Season 4

Marcus - Garden District, Baton Rouge - Aubrey

Welcome to Baton Rouge.

And what a welcome it had been! Though it lacked the grandiose appeal of Chicago, whose streets he had called home for most of his life, Baton Rouge's relative quaintness had a certain charm to it. Culture exuded from its very pores; the indelible impression of ethnic groups and historical time periods were apparent in everything from the architecture to the name of the city itself: the Red Stick. It didn't seem as refined when translated into English, but perhaps that quirkiness was all a part of the city's personality.

Yes, quirkiness. He enjoyed quirky things. The sight of their Capitol Building, for example, amused him deeply. It dominated the underwhelming skyline of the Red Stick, an ugly, Brutalist-looking structure that masqueraded as something supposedly regal. A kindred spirit.

He had only seen it from a distance, of course. It was generally prudent to avoid downtown areas for they were likely swarming with the undead. That reminded him: Baton Rouge benefited from such friendly locals! While he had not run into anyone like himself yet, he had come into close contact with some walkers. The decrepit, suburban time capsules that he had been traversing through did not contain many packs but every now and then, he could see a lonely, docile walker, placidly roaming until it caught his scent.

The undead were endearing, in a strange way. They had an idiosyncratic cuteness to them. In groups, their vicious and rapacious desire for living flesh could not be ignored, but on their own, they were fairly harmless. When they did attack, it was hard not to smile. They lurched and hissed, flapping their limbs and awkwardly stumbling. With every failed attempt to grab him, Marcus thought they looked rather embarrassed, as if they themselves wondered whether their insipidity had a lower depth.

He was so enamoured by their hapless nature that it was here, during his stroll through Garden District, that a brilliant idea fulminated in his mind.

“Shhhh,” he whispered soothingly, grasping fistfuls of dry, brittle hair. “We'll be having fun soon, you and I.”

Marcus pressed the walker's snapping mouth onto the curb until its teeth locked into the cement. When he stomped on the back of her head, the melodious sound of teeth clattering against the pavement rang just after the sonorous crack that signaled the tearing asunder of her jaw.
To his dismay, her sibilant hisses were now replaced with the displeasing sound of gurgling and rattling. Assuaging himself with a reminder of that old maxim regarding eggs and omelets, Marcus picked her up and wrapped both of his hands around her forearms, right under the stumps where her own hands had recently been.

He began a slow waltz with his unwilling partner as a broad smile lit up his gaunt and ghostly face. If his partner was looked at just right, it almost seemed that she was returning his smile. He crooned to her softly,

”I'm making believe
That you're in my arms
Though I know you're so far away
Making believe
I'm talking to you
Wish you could hear what I say

And here in the gloom
Of my lonely room
We're dancing like we used to do
Making believe
Is just another way of dreaming
So 'til my dreams come true”

Together, the two danced in the effulgent sunlight of the new world.

Among the Ruined - Season 4

Levi Pascale

Age: 26

Height: 5'11"

Weight: 190 lbs

Weapons: Compound bow, sheath with 10 arrows

Appearance: Levi is slightly tanned and has striking hazel eyes. Once obsessed with his appearance, he still has the vestigial remains of a muscular body, though he isn't as large as he used to be. His hollow cheeks indicate a loss of weight in a fairly short time period. Levi's five o'clock shadow and short, scruffy black hair lend to a dishevelled appearance. His clothing often varies, depending on what he can scavenge, but he always wears a dirty, olive-coloured trench coat that is replete with pockets.

Personality: Levi tries to be cautious about his company, but he cannot repress his yearning to interact with others. He is constantly fighting with his desire to exist and his desire to live. The Golden Rule is his moral compass, but his strong sense of justice means that he can become violent if he finds you particularly brutal. He is not afraid to stand up for himself, though his perspicacity will always let him know when he's outmatched.

History: Born to upper class parents, the vast majority of Levi's life was easy. He did not take High School seriously, knowing that he had a confirmed job in his father's car rental business regardless of his grades. Unfortunately, his father changed his mind around Levi's junior year and began to crack down hard on his lazy and hedonistic lifestyle.

Levi managed to turn the tide of his abysmal grades around, eventually earning admission into the University of Louisiana at Lafayette, where he embarked on a psychology degree. It was around this time where he, like most other young students entrenched in an eclectic atmosphere of learning, began to read into different political and economical systems. One which fascinated him was Marxism, and it was through Marxism that he learned of Leninism. The primary difference between the two, despite sharing many of the same ideas, was Karl Marx's belief that the fate of the working class was in their own hands. Lenin, on the other hand, advocated bourgeoise intelligentsia to act as their vanguard and lead the revolution.

Though Levi's opinions began to morph the longer he stayed at university, Leninism instilled in him a love for aiding the underdog. He knew that he came from a very privileged background and that his knowledge and familial wealth could be put to use in helping the most oppressed.

There was plenty to improve in America, but he became enamoured with the idea of leaving the United States behind in search of a country where his help would actually be valued. After dropping out of Lafayette, Levi embarked on a journey to Palestine, moved by what he construed as a racist and oppressive apartheid regime.

It was extraordinarily difficult for him to stay there. The luxuries of Louisiana were ineffable in comparison. Levi was a jack of all trades, doing whatever the NGO that recruited him would tell him. He did not specialise in anything and had been involved in work ranging from protection, farming and even cooking. However, what he enjoyed the most was teaching. The children there did not seem to take anything for granted and were grateful for the smallest of comforts; they were a stark contrast compared to the man he had been for most of his life.

As the conflict began to escalate and Gaza crumbled under heavy aerial bombardment, Levi received news from America that shook him to his core: his mother had died. He did not want to leave his duties behind, but he had to be there for his father.

Once he returned to Louisiana, he found his mother alive and well. It had been a ploy to extricate him from the war-torn land where his parents feared that he would die. Incensed by their betrayal, Levi refused to stay in the family home and drifted until an old friend, now living in Texas, allowed him to stay over at his apartment.

Levi did not contact his parents for over a year. He worked in a local restaurant, as a waiter, and fell into a long period of ennui. He was free to return to Palestine, but now that he was back in America, back in safety, his insides turned to ice at the thought. He no longer had the fortitude and he hated his parents for it.

When the outbreak hit, Levi swallowed his pride and called them to see if they were OK. Spurred on by news stories of the horror approaching, Levi left for Lafayette.

When he returned to the home of his parents, he found their corpses in the living room. Rather than being ripped apart by the new monstrosities, they had been executed by bullets to the head. Judging by the bare state of the house, they had been murdered by looters.

Levi buried his parents in the back garden and sought refuge in the house he had grown up in, boarding up the windows and the doors. Upon searching the house for anything the looters didn't take, he found the basement untouched. There, complete with a handful of targets, was his father's compound bow and a large supply of arrows. At first, he practised merely because he was bored. Eventually, he decided that he would rather face the world out there than die alone in his childhood home. He lost most of the arrows taking potshots at walkers in the street from his bedroom, but he gained invaluable experience.

Becoming just competent enough to survive out there (or so he felt), Levi left the house and began his search for others who were still alive and, most importantly, had retained their humanity.

Marcus Aurelius

Age: 30

Height: 6'0”

Weight: 170 lbs

Weapons: Glock 17, Fire Iron

Appearance: Marcus is fairly tall and has a skinny frame. His greasy hair falls to his shoulders and a haunted shade of blue stares out from beneath the unkempt fringe that often sweeps over his forehead. His facial structure is almost skeletal with gaunt cheeks and a sharp jawline. In an odd juxtaposition to his bedraggled head, he wears a crisp and neatly arranged suit. An obsidian black ensemble with a white handkerchief daintily hanging out of the breastpocket, it represents Marcus' seizure of spoil. The old world would never have allowed him such an exquisite attire, but the new world essentially gifted it to him.

Personality: Marcus is a capricious fellow, often alternating between amiability and wanton viciousness. Molded by a life harbouring many excruciating difficulties, he has found himself in possession of more power now than he did in the world before. He is a hedonist, eager to fulfill whichever desire takes his fancy.

History: Born in an extremely dysfunctional household, Marcus was rescued by the Child Protective Services from abusive parents and placed in several foster homes, never quite fitting any of them. These years would be some of the worst of his life and crucial to his later development, especially when he was placed under the care of sexually abusive foster parents.

When he became old enough that the state stopped feeling a responsibility for him, Marcus was out on the streets. Lacking access to a conventional education, he read as many books as he could. One of the books that inspired him was called 'Meditations', written by the great Roman Emperor, Marcus Aurelius. Infatuated by his musings on Stoic philosophy and perceiving it to have a nihilistic tone, Marcus adopted the Emperor's name for himself, shedding behind the identity of the frightened young boy who had been a victim for so long.

Adopting an amoral view on life, Marcus began to work odd jobs for local criminal organisations, ranging from murder to corpse disposal. As long as it paid, he was more than happy to do it.

Eventually, he saved up enough money to rent an apartment in Chicago's notorious South Side. As a free agent, Marcus did not have to deal with repercussions of his work from rival gangs. Unfortunately, he was not immune to law enforcement.

Picked up for suspicion of murder, Marcus was held in Cook County Jail, awaiting his trial. In a rare stroke of luck, something he was most certainly not accustomed to, the outbreak hit. The prison was flung into chaos and the inmates were able to take control. Marcus slipped out of the prison and stepped into the new America; a land of infinite opportunity.

He sauntered over and broke into the gaudiest sports car he could find while chaos and carnage ran amok in the street, cackling as the worries of ever being punished for a crime evaporated.

Marcus managed to get all the way to Arkansas before having to abandon the car. A group of men took him in, men who cared only about surviving. Nobody asked Marcus what he had been in his past life. He was good with a gun and wasn't scared of the walkers. That was all the knowledge they needed.

At least, that was all they needed for the timebeing. As they became closer, Marcus' eccentric behaviour began to worry them until he was exiled for keeping a decapitated walker head in his motel room. He thought it was harmless fun, a prop to recite Hamlet's 'Alas, poor Yorick!' speech to, but the others found it more macabre than anything. Fearing he would end up hurting them, Marcus was given supplies and a vehicle and told to leave.

Surprisingly, he left without killing anyone, as he had already grown bored of the men and was quite happy to find that he would not have to murder them for supplies. The vehicle broke down after passing the state boundary and now Marcus roams the streets of Louisiana, searching for pleasure.

Among the Ruined - Season 4

Levi Pascale

Age: 26

Height: 5'11"

Weight: 190 lbs

Weapons: Compound bow, sheath with 10 arrows

Appearance: Levi is slightly tanned and has striking hazel eyes. Once obsessed with his appearance, he still has the vestigial remains of a muscular body, though he isn't as large as he used to be. His hollow cheeks indicate a loss of weight in a fairly short time period. Levi's five o'clock shadow and short, scruffy black hair lend to a dishevelled appearance. His clothing often varies, depending on what he can scavenge, but he always wears a dirty, olive-coloured trench coat that is replete with pockets.

Personality: Levi tries to be cautious about his company, but he cannot repress his yearning to interact with others. He is constantly fighting with his desire to exist and his desire to live. The Golden Rule is his moral compass, but his strong sense of justice means that he can become violent if he finds you particularly brutal. He is not afraid to stand up for himself, though his perspicacity will always let him know when he's outmatched.

History: Born to upper class parents, the vast majority of Levi's life was easy. He did not take High School seriously, knowing that he had a confirmed job in his father's car rental business regardless of his grades. Unfortunately, his father changed his mind around Levi's junior year and began to crack down hard on his lazy and hedonistic lifestyle.

Levi managed to turn the tide of his abysmal grades around, eventually earning admission into the University of Louisiana at Lafayette, where he embarked on a psychology degree. It was around this time where he, like most other young students entrenched in an eclectic atmosphere of learning, began to read into different political and economical systems. One which fascinated him was Marxism, and it was through Marxism that he learned of Leninism. The primary difference between the two, despite sharing many of the same ideas, was Karl Marx's belief that the fate of the working class was in their own hands. Lenin, on the other hand, advocated bourgeoise intelligentsia to act as their vanguard and lead the revolution.

Though Levi's opinions began to morph the longer he stayed at university, Leninism instilled in him a love for aiding the underdog. He knew that he came from a very privileged background and that his knowledge and familial wealth could be put to use in helping the most oppressed.

There was plenty to improve in America, but he became enamoured with the idea of leaving the United States behind in search of a country where his help would actually be valued. After dropping out of Lafayette, Levi embarked on a journey to Palestine, moved by what he construed as a racist and oppressive apartheid regime.

It was extraordinarily difficult for him to stay there. The luxuries of Louisiana were ineffable in comparison. Levi was a jack of all trades, doing whatever the NGO that recruited him would tell him. He did not specialise in anything and had been involved in work ranging from protection, farming and even cooking. However, what he enjoyed the most was teaching. The children there did not seem to take anything for granted and were grateful for the smallest of comforts; they were a stark contrast compared to the man he had been for most of his life.

As the conflict began to escalate and Gaza crumbled under heavy aerial bombardment, Levi received news from America that shook him to his core: his mother had died. He did not want to leave his duties behind, but he had to be there for his father.

Once he returned to Louisiana, he found his mother alive and well. It had been a ploy to extricate him from the war-torn land where his parents feared that he would die. Incensed by their betrayal, Levi refused to stay in the family home and drifted until an old friend, now living in Texas, allowed him to stay over at his apartment.

Levi did not contact his parents for over a year. He worked in a local restaurant, as a waiter, and fell into a long period of ennui. He was free to return to Palestine, but now that he was back in America, back in safety, his insides turned to ice at the thought. He no longer had the fortitude and he hated his parents for it.

When the outbreak hit, Levi swallowed his pride and called them to see if they were OK. Spurred on by news stories of the horror approaching, Levi left for Lafayette.

When he returned to the home of his parents, he found their corpses in the living room. Rather than being ripped apart by the new monstrosities, they had been executed by bullets to the head. Judging by the bare state of the house, they had been murdered by looters.

Levi buried his parents in the back garden and sought refuge in the house he had grown up in, boarding up the windows and the doors. Upon searching the house for anything the looters didn't take, he found the basement untouched. There, complete with a handful of targets, was his father's compound bow and a large supply of arrows. At first, he practised merely because he was bored. Eventually, he decided that he would rather face the world out there than die alone in his childhood home. He lost most of the arrows taking potshots at walkers in the street from his bedroom, but he gained invaluable experience.

Becoming just competent enough to survive out there (or so he felt), Levi left the house and began his search for others who were still alive and, most importantly, had retained their humanity.

Marcus Aurelius

Age: 30

Height: 6'0”

Weight: 170 lbs

Weapons: Glock 17, Fire Iron

Appearance: Marcus is fairly tall and has a skinny frame. His greasy hair falls to his shoulders and a haunted shade of blue stares out from beneath the unkempt fringe that often sweeps over his forehead. His facial structure is almost skeletal with gaunt cheeks and a sharp jawline. In an odd juxtaposition to his bedraggled head, he wears a crisp and neatly arranged suit. An obsidian black ensemble with a white handkerchief daintily hanging out of the breastpocket, it represents Marcus' seizure of spoil. The old world would never have allowed him such an exquisite attire, but the new world essentially gifted it to him.

Personality: Marcus is a capricious fellow, often alternating between amiability and wanton viciousness. Molded by a life harbouring many excruciating difficulties, he has found himself in possession of more power now than he did in the world before. He is a hedonist, eager to fulfill whichever desire takes his fancy.

History: Born in an extremely dysfunctional household, Marcus was rescued by the Child Protective Services from abusive parents and placed in several foster homes, never quite fitting any of them. These years would be some of the worst of his life and crucial to his later development, especially when he was placed under the care of sexually abusive foster parents.

When he became old enough that the state stopped feeling a responsibility for him, Marcus was out on the streets. Lacking access to a conventional education, he read as many books as he could. One of the books that inspired him was called 'Meditations', written by the great Roman Emperor, Marcus Aurelius. Infatuated by his musings on Stoic philosophy and perceiving it to have a nihilistic tone, Marcus adopted the Emperor's name for himself, shedding behind the identity of the frightened young boy who had been a victim for so long.

Adopting an amoral view on life, Marcus began to work odd jobs for local criminal organisations, ranging from murder to corpse disposal. As long as it paid, he was more than happy to do it.

Eventually, he saved up enough money to rent an apartment in Chicago's notorious South Side. As a free agent, Marcus did not have to deal with repercussions of his work from rival gangs. Unfortunately, he was not immune to law enforcement.

Picked up for suspicion of murder, Marcus was held in Cook County Jail, awaiting his trial. In a rare stroke of luck, something he was most certainly not accustomed to, the outbreak hit. The prison was flung into chaos and the inmates were able to take control. Marcus slipped out of the prison and stepped into the new America; a land of infinite opportunity.

He sauntered over and broke into the gaudiest sports car he could find while chaos and carnage ran amok in the street, cackling as the worries of ever being punished for a crime evaporated.

Marcus managed to get all the way to Arkansas before having to abandon the car. A group of men took him in, men who cared only about surviving. Nobody asked Marcus what he had been in his past life. He was good with a gun and wasn't scared of the walkers. That was all the knowledge they needed.

At least, that was all they needed for the timebeing. As they became closer, Marcus' eccentric behaviour began to worry them until he was exiled for keeping a decapitated walker head in his motel room. He thought it was harmless fun, a prop to recite Hamlet's 'Alas, poor Yorick!' speech to, but the others found it more macabre than anything. Fearing he would end up hurting them, Marcus was given supplies and a vehicle and told to leave.

Surprisingly, he left without killing anyone, as he had already grown bored of the men and was quite happy to find that he would not have to murder them for supplies. The vehicle broke down after passing the state boundary and now Marcus roams the streets of Louisiana, searching for pleasure.

The Walking Dead: Chicago (Dark, post-apocalyptic zombie RP - Always open!)

Evelyn thrust her trusty fire iron through roleplayerguild's fragile neck, twisting the weapon and cackling sadistically as the poor and useless thing writhed on the ground and emitted a horrible death rattle.
"Perhaps that'll teach you for having such piss-poor coding, roleplayerguild." she taunted, before stomping on its head and grinning as her nemesis' skull exploded and fragments of grey matter and blood splattered against the wall.

(also there aren't enough people left to apologise to wolverballs)

The Walking Dead: Chicago (Dark, post-apocalyptic zombie RP - Always open!)

#9

Evelyn nodded wordlessly at Craig, seemingly affirming her trust in him before standing up and making her way back to the truck they had arrived in. She opened the door and slumped into the driver's chair, reaching down and pulling the lever to the side of the seat so that it reclined back. As she stared at the musty, grey roof of the truck, she pondered over the possibility of Black Mountain's sanctity already being compromised. The idea of shelter, safety, food and comfort had kept her going over the past few months. She had lost a companion whom she had developed camaraderie with and was much further out of Chicago than she had been a day ago. Through setback after setback, she had remained stony-faced and silent but now that she was alone, she couldn't help but feel that Levi had not just been means to an end. He was the first friend she had had in a long time.

The idea of not seeing him again hurt much more than she let on but showing weakness, especially in front of these strangers, was not a good idea. Scarlett was the only one she truly trusted. Joe seemed harmless but stupid, Haleigh gave off a calculating and conniving air, Marcus was a loner at heart and Craig's magnanimity was suspicious. He had been extremely charitable thus far but his history had deeply concerned Evelyn on the matter of his sanity. He had seen and done terrible things; surely it had scarred him? His status as the last survivor of such a large group did nothing to ameliorate her unease.

Despite wanting to stay awake for as long as possible to keep an eye on the others, her desire for vigilance eventually capitulated to her need for sleep. Her eyelids grew impossibly heavy and her head rolled against the cold, leather headrest.

---

Evelyn slowly opened her eyes, awoken by the usually pleasant sound of birds singing among the treetops. She blearily glanced to the right to see Scarlett peacefully slumbering in the passenger seat. Judging by the pink tinge of the sky and the absence of the sun, dawn had begun in the last few minutes. Taking care not to wake Scarlett up, she gently opened the door and stepped outside.

The Walking Dead: Chicago (Dark, post-apocalyptic zombie RP - Always open!)

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The Walking Dead: Chicago (Dark, post-apocalyptic zombie RP - Always open!)

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The Walking Dead: Chicago (Dark, post-apocalyptic zombie RP - Always open!)

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The Walking Dead: Chicago (Dark, post-apocalyptic zombie RP - Always open!)

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The Walking Dead: Chicago (Dark, post-apocalyptic zombie RP - Always open!)

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