Force and Fury

Absolom

Hey, so I've seen that this is active now. I'm out and a bit busy at the moment, but a post is incoming sometime tonight. No worries!

Deadland Wasteland: //START Recruitment.exe [OPEN - APPLY]

The twins are totally new here. They've been around for no more than a week. If anybody recognizes them from the world before, they're welcome to.

Through the Portal

Just got back from a five day camping trip, and ditto here. Rintor isn't doing much of anything. I can throw in a quick post if @Yuuta doesn't have the chance to put one up by tomorrow night.

Band of Bastards- WW2 Heist/Espionage RP

Posted! Simona talks a lot when she's nervous.

Band of Bastards- WW2 Heist/Espionage RP

Simona Ricci

Simona tries not to turn a paler shade of white. Her Nonna already tells her that she doesn't get enough sun. The men are talking quickly in English - Subtle as a freight train, she remarks inwardly - and she's only able to catch bits and pieces. Still, she gets the gist of it. Lots of shooting. Lots of killing. Dead Nazis. A car. Running. Simona just loves running. It occurs to her that they probably don't realize that she has one leg.

She leans against the table and notices Colani looking her up and down. He makes some kind of comment that she doesn't quite understand, but his body language gets the main idea across. She stops herself from rolling her eyes at him, and manages a little smile instead. Male attention is hard to refuse and also useful. She furrows her brow trying to concentrate on what they're saying, and picks up that Silvio wants to go outside and that Norheim, or uh...Viking, doesn't really like him. Then people look at Simona.

"I ahhh..." Aww fuck it, here goes. "I'ma Simona. I do uh...za nursing. If you getta hurt, I sew you up. Don't getta hurt. I'ma lazy. Zat's ah why I'm here." She pulls up the right side of her dress where the Beretta waits in a leg holster. She pulls it out. "I can uh..." She forgets the word in English. Sparare... Sparare, goddammit! Didn't it also start with 's'? She decides to cut her losses. "Pew pew!" she makes a shooting motion. Making a sterling impression, Simona. Just top shelf. "But, ahh, not so good, you know?" She glances at the big box of big guns. The recoil from any of them will likely knock her on her culo. Truth be told, Simona was hoping this wouldn't be so...deathy right off the bat, that she could pull her usual schtick, and just be a mole, an information broker, and a lookout, but what can you do? "I think ah mebbe I shoulda go outta za side? Pew pew za Nazzis when ah zey come ah run?" English: she is absolutely speaking the fuck out of it. Her confidence grows. "Mebbe I could ah, go ah first. Do a little... distrazione if ah you need? But ah...You za boss."

Simona's heart is trying to hammer its way out of her chest. She wants to die as a wrinkly old woman, many years from now, but these delusions of grandeur that she has, they're likely to get her killed. She is in way over head.

Through the Portal

The demon attempts further mockery. Rintor has seen it before. Beings like that thrive on the perceptions of others: the fear that they generate and the notion that they're powerful. Were it not for the magical shackles that he'd willingly put on himself, Rintor would slice the man's neck open in an instant and proceed to kill the demon as well. It isn't about morality, but rather scale of harms. Sometimes , some innocents must die so that more innocents are saved. An odious thought, to be sure, but practical, and the right choice.

Rintor can only answer the odd scientist's question with an admission of his own. "I can see colour," he begins, "but I fear I've taxed myself too far with all of this recent lightbending. I'm out of practice, and ironically, temporary colour blindness is one of the first consequences a lightbender suffers when he overextends himself." No need to mention the others yet, and pray I don't encounter them. I am dangerously rusty. "At this point, I'm following the others' lead and trusting in their judgement."

He walks quietly, watching, listening, and letting the others sort themselves out. He will have order prevail here even if he has to personally pound it into each and every one of their skulls. There are too many self-important people, hotheads, and liars. He's guilty of being the first himself. The sun is low. Colour starts returning to his world. The grass is strange. He's struck by its appearance. That doesn't mean that it's automatically a threat, but when dealing with an unknown, it's best to minimize your variables. It would be best to reach bare ground.

He watches Esailia stalking ahead of the others. For a moment, he's selfishly glad that he comes from a faraway land. Were there more people from the deep south, perhaps he would be as infamous as Victor. Perhaps his past actions would come back to haunt him. Perhaps he would be threatened with death. And he would deserve it.

Rintor Otorik divides his attention between his surroundings and the half-elf, who's approaching Esailia and trying to offer some sort of apology. Clueless child, he thinks. All strength and no brains. Surreptitiously, his hands brush the hilts of his daggers and he checks for the threads. It's so much easier - less taxing - for him to lightbend at night. He hopes that he won't have to, but he is ready nonetheless. There is little grass where they are now. The ground rises and falls. The mountains loom overhead, and a thin halo of sunlight crowns the summit of one of the lesser ones.

Deadland Wasteland: //START Recruitment.exe [OPEN - APPLY]

Hannah and Amanda are new here, and while 'here' is great - at least compared to 'out there' - It presents its own problems. Where to begin? Amanda thinks. How to begin? Hannah ponders. People are curious about the 'two-headed woman'. They always are. However, the twins know that being a special snowflake isn't going to put food in their stomach. It's not going to earn them any respect. We'll have to produce. Maybe Hannah thinks it. Maybe Amanda does.

They lie in bed for a few more moments, staring at the ceiling. Hannah's always the one to wake them both up. Amanda's always the one to get them both moving. "Mandy," says Hannah softly, "We doin' the thing today?"

"What thing?" Amanda questions, stretching her side of their body.

Belatedly, Hannah stretches too. The twins get themselves in sync for the day. "You know, that scav run."

They swing out of bed and stand. Walking is a collaborative effort. It used to amaze doctors, back when there were doctors, but the twins don't give it any thought. They slip on a pair of slippers and pad over to the fridge. It's old and scavenged, buzzing and humming unevenly, with a couple of hastily patched bullet holes. "It's so post-apoc chic," Mandy observes. "God, I love it."

Sensing that her sister is avoiding the subject of the scav run, Hannah tosses her opinion into the ring. "I mean, I'm not necessarily for it," she tries.

They bend down and Amanda pulls some apple juice from the fridge. They only have three cans left from that supermarket they hit right before coming here. "I'm not necessarily against it," she eventually replies.

"My turn?" Hanna enquires. Only one of the twins really needs to drink for the both of them. The other can get by with just wetting her mouth.

Amanda shoots her sister a sidelong glance and tilts the can back. She takes a swig. "Get rekt."

Hovering between playfully and legitimately annoyed, Hannah reaches over and plucks the juice away. It's a fairly precious commodity. "Mandyyyyyy, what the fuck?!" she whines, before crossly gulping down the rest of it. Amanda quirks an eyebrow. "Look, I just needed some apple juice to start the day. Sometimes a girl needs apple juice."

Their home is big (since they count as two people) and empty, recently renovated and converted too. Others should be moving in anytime now. Introductions will be...interesting. The sisters have made a game out of guessing what they might be like and when they'll arrive. Their morning routine hasn't changed in years. They get through it quickly. They go for a morning jog. It seems like everybody here jogs. Probably a good idea, Amanda thinks to herself. She doesn't even need to confirm that Hannah's thinking the same. Sometimes, she just knows. They catch one of their neighbours, Elijah - he's important people, Hannah remembers - heading towards the command center. "Now or never," she prods her sister.

"Ugh, you're a pest, Hannie." By mutual agreement, they slow to a fast walk. "Ponytail?" Amanda asks. They reach up and tie her hair into one.

"I really think we should," Hannah pushes. It's usually her sister who takes the initiative, so these are shoes that she's not entirely comfortable filling. "The servers are working around here, but there's no way to get something worldwide back online or to connect to it right now. We've been sitting here and doing nothing for almost three days now. We should make ourselves useful. besides, aren't you bored?"

I'll let you win, Amanda thinks. They start walking slowly in the same direction as Elijah. Heads turn. "I fully see your point, it's just, I'd rather not die. This is kinda jumping into the deep end, dontcha think? We're total noobs."

Hannah stops walking abruptly and her other half is caught somewhat off-guard. The twins stumble a bit. "Well, we'll just keep a lookout," she promises, "and these people know what they're doing. Besides, apple juice."

"Bitch, you can't bribe me with apple juice." Amanda cranes her neck in the direction of their house, considering. Twist my rubber arm. "Ugh fine, I'll do it, but let's run home and get our shit. If we're going out there, I wanna be packing heat."

"Dealio!" Hannah's expression is disgustingly sunny.

"I hate you."

___

A couple of hours later, the twins are there in the parking lot dressed to leave the safe zone and shouldering a backpack. Hannah rolls a single die between her thumb and pointer, while Amanda idly twirls their keychain. "Damn, this is some legit hardware," the latter observes, letting out a low whistle. Hannah grins like a big child. "God I want turret," she says. "Do you want turret, because I need turret."

"Only if you can beat me there," Amanda counters wryly.

Hannah lets out a snort of laughter. They wait.

End + Sleep

@vietmyke ditto for me. I'll be getting to work on this myself soon.

Gotta read up again, though.

End + Sleep: A High Fantasy Adventure in Cursed Land

I just want to make sure, because this went from being so active to so dead so quickly: did I miss the posting of the OOC or something?

Deadland Wasteland: //START Recruitment.exe [OPEN - APPLY]

Basic Information

Name:

Hannah and Amanda Sinclair

Age:

23

Nationality:

Canadian

Ethnicity:

Caucasian

Sex:

Female

Height:

5'4"

Weight:

151 lbs. (combined)

Eye Color:

Blue-Grey

Hair Color:

Red

Physical Disabilities:

• Dicephalic parapagus conjoined twins
• Slightly far-sighted

Physical Identifiers

• They basically look like a two-headed woman.
• Both wear glasses, though Hannah needs them more.
• They used to wear yellow contact lenses, though that's largely fallen by the wayside.
• There are a handful small of surgical scars on their back and shared shoulder.

Appearance:

Perhaps the twins could be described as a pair of young women with red hair, light skin, and freckles. This alone would make them stand out in a crowd given the relative uncommonness of that complexion. They also show the strong and slightly cleft chin characteristic of many people of their ethnic background. However, these features are secondary, as Hannah and Amanda are instantly unmistakable due to the fact that they're dicephalic parapagus conjoined twins, not dissimilar to Abigail and Brittany Hensel. Given the extremely high incidence of fatal birth defects present in such twins, they are very fortunate to enjoy health that - after a few corrective surgeries during their infancy and early childhood - falls within normal parameters.

Amanda and Hannah are identical, though their freckles (not particularly numerous or pronounced) differ. Hannah usually wears her hair shorter and will sometimes wear either a choker or a bracelet to distinguish herself from her sister. They customize their clothes when need be to fit their wider-than-average shared torso, but often prefer to wear things that are either loose-fitting or can stretch a good deal. They prefer wide-necked, tank, or off the shoulder tops for obvious reasons. Their dressing style can best be described as either casual or, at times, 'look at me, I'm a gamer gril.' They've had to focus on practicality since everything went pants a few months back.

Biography

Amanda and Hannah were born in Kamloops, British Columbia, Canada, in the year 2088, the second and third (Amanda jokingly refers to herself as the older twin) children of Matthew and Evelyn Sinclair. Informed before their birth of their situation and the likelihood of them dying in infancy, their parents did not opt for an abortion. After crossing a number of important hurdles, the twins emerged as happy, healthy children, their lives understandably the focus of intense public curiosity and media attention. While their parents did their best to strike a balance between appeasing the demand for information and raising the girls normally, by the time that they started the first grade, they were well aware of just how different and special they were.

While some dicephalus twins manage to co-ordinate the fine motor control needed to master everyday tasks, doctors advised caution and patience when the girls were young. Thankfully, this proved largely unwarranted. Amanda and Hannah seem to be able to anticipate each other's movements perfectly and rarely need to communicate in order to co-ordinate their movements. As their older brother Nate was an avid videogamer, the girls would often play with him. Before long they became deeply interested in videogaming and general geek culture, and this carried through into their teens. With two sets of eyes and two minds to process information, their situational awareness was difficult to beat.

As they progressed through high school, sporadically in and out of the public eye, the two of them made a decision: a 'normal' life and career were not in the cards, and their uniqueness was best embraced and used as a source of profit. Shortly after their eighteenth birthday, Hannah and Amanda moved to Vancouver to try their hands at professional gaming. They also studied programming and public relations on a part-time basis at UBC. Firmly ensconced within the 'geek' scene, they became regular attendees and a sometime attraction at gaming, comic, and anime conferences, often getting involved with cosplay. The twins have always been secure enough in their separate identities to eschew ham-fisted attempts to assert their individuality. The truth is that they have pretty similar personality types and their interests overlap significantly. The only notable difference is that Hannah is slightly more bookish and knowledgeable, while Amanda tends to take the lead and is a better judge of character.

They were in nearby Seattle, doing a series of interviews for the upcoming Emerald City Comicon, when the world ended. Perhaps playing so many videogames and watching so many zombie movies imbued them with the paranoia to survive. Amanda and Hannah mostly just stockpiled necessary items and hid for the first couple of months. They taught themselves to shoot an actual gun and found that it was a bit harder in the real world. Upon hearing the call to Refuge, they made their way there immediately.

Extended Information

Residence:

Vancouver, Canada

Profession:

Professional Gamers (former)

lookouts, scavengers, and programmers (current)

Aligned Faction:

currently unaligned

Relatives:

• Matthew Sinclair, father (whereabouts unknown)
• Evelyn Sinclair, mother (whereabouts unknown)
• Nathan Sinclair, older brother (Vancouver, Canada at last contact)

Personnel Data

Weapons:

• A pair of Springfield Armory XD(m) pistols firing .45 ACP rounds.
• A pair of Swiss army knives.

Equipment

• One pair of night-vision goggles (the second pair malfunctioned), a large hiking backpack, and a laser pointer

Miscellaneous

• Amanda: Samsung smartphone, apack of pencil crayons, contact lenses, desalinizing solution, one six-sided die
• Hannah: iPhone, a small combination lock, contact lenses, a compass, one six-sided die

Trade Skills:

• Not an Easy Mark
  As professional gamers, Amanda and Hannah possess excellent reflexes and consistently react quickly and decisively to changes in their situation. Their situational awareness is virtually unparalleled, due to their unique physiology and chosen profession. They are extremely difficult to sneak up on.
• All Your Code are Belong to Us
  While no means seasoned professionals when it comes to hacking, the twins understand a decent amount about a handful of different types of code and generally know their way around computers and electronics: both hardware and software.

Talents & Hobbies:

• Creativity
  The twins, especially Amanda, enjoy designing their own cosplay outfits and can sketch pretty ably as well as sew and repair clothing and other materials.
• General Knowledge
  The twins, especially Hannah, have pretty good memories and are knowledgeable about a wide variety of subjects.

Limitations:

• Like a Sore Thumb
  Amanda and Hannah are immediately obvious and stick out like a sore thumb wherever they go. There's no chance of fading into a crowd or simply disappearing. They draw immense attention wherever they go (and not all of it is positive). Usually they embrace it, but sometimes it really starts to wear on them.
• Conjoined
  Though they are young, in reasonable shape, and quite physically capable, Amanda and Hannah are still conjoined twins at the end of the day and their two legs have to carry more weight than most people's do. They're a little bit slower, their balance is a little bit worse, and they tire marginally faster than other people of similar age and physical condition. Though they've been mostly problem-free up to this point, some minor birth anomaly could always rear its head.