Ikan

Persona: Black Crown

Hello uhh, I know I'm like so late to this, but can I still join?

Giant Slayers

@Ikan nice post, well worth the wait! I really felt the tension. I'd meant to imply that it was your character peaking out from an open manhole, but I can edit that out before my next post. I need to reread the other post as well, aiming to get the next post up before the end of the week!

@RickyG85

Oh...sorry I didn't catch that! :'D but I'm glad if my submission is fine!

Giant Slayers

Emily Graves

---

Location: Stockton outskirts—
sewer tunnel beneath the old highway
Time: Nightfall, 6 AG

---

The fire was small, controlled, and deliberately ugly—fed with scraps of treated wood and broken plastic that smoked more than they burned. Emily sat closest to it anyway, knees pulled up, staring into the flame like it owed her money. Around her, the rest of the group occupied the sewer tunnel in loose clusters: muttered conversations, quiet laughter dulled by exhaustion, the metallic clink of gear being checked for the third or fourth time that night.

Six of them in total. Too many to move quietly. Too few to feel safe.

And to make matters worse, someone was hurt.

Emily shifted her attention to the man leaning against the tunnel wall, his right hand wrapped in a blood-soaked rag that had already turned a deep, unpleasant brown. The injury wasn’t life-threatening—she knew that much—but it was bad enough to slow them down. Torn flesh, swelling, maybe a fracture if luck was feeling cruel. He tried to act like it didn’t hurt. Everyone did.

She sighed and leaned forward, tugging her pack closer. "Stop moving," she said flatly, already unwrapping the cloth.

A few of the others watched with mild interest. One of the women, older, sharp-eyed, stayed close to Emily’s side. Not hovering, exactly. More like keeping watch. Emily pretended not to notice, but she was aware of it. She always was.

"Your hand’s gonna be stiff for a while," Emily muttered as she cleaned the wound. "You’ll still have feeling. Eventually. But climbing’s off the table for now. You're lucky it's not your leg."

That earned her a couple of sharp looks. No one denied it.

The talk circled back, like it always did, to the road ahead. To Stockton. To the dead sprawl beyond it. To the thing none of them liked saying out loud: San Francisco.

They’d been holed up near the outskirts of what used to be Stockton for two days now—long enough to draw attention if they stayed longer. From there, the route west funneled straight into the ruins. Collapsed highways. Tilted towers. Giant paths burned permanently into the city like scars. No reliable maps. No clear landmarks. Just a maze of death that people only crossed if there was something on the other side worth the risk.

And there was.

Whatever waited north of the city wasn’t just supplies. It was information. Access. A deal with a faction that controlled movement north along the coast—safe paths, maybe underground crossings, and maybe just enough knowledge to survive another month. In a world without reliable maps, knowing where not to go was priceless.

Which was why the argument started again for the third time today.

"He can’t do his job like this," someone said. "You know that."

“He can’t keep pace,” someone said. “One hand out of commission and he’s done.”

“He’s not useless,” another snapped back.

“He was our 'climber',” a third cut in. “He’s the one who could scale collapsed structures, set anchors, find vertical routes when the streets were blocked. Without that hand, he’s baggage.”

Emily didn’t look up as the tension crept in, voices sharpening, words getting closer to something uglier. She finished bandaging the hand and tied it off with a practiced knot. Her fingers were steady. Too steady, some people thought, for someone who claimed she didn’t want to be a medic.

"Then we cut him loose," the man contiued. "Before he slows us all down."

That was when, one of them, whos been silent until now, finally broke the lull. "You're thinking in short-term. We don’t cut loose assets." It was the older woman in their late thirties, hardened by years on the road.

"C’mon, you’re getting sentimental now?"

"No. I’m getting practical."

That shut them up.

The woman met their stares one by one as she stepped closer to the fire, light catching the lines on her face, the scars people never bothered asking about. "You want to argue again? go ahead. But let me remind you: without him, you won’t cross the vertical breaks. Without me, you won’t even reach the coast. Without us, you won’t reach the other side. And you won’t reach whatever deal you’re so damn eager for. So, you can slow down, adapt, and survive—or, you can gamble blind and die faster."

The fire crackled. Somewhere far above, the wind howled through broken streets.

Emily finally leaned back against the tunnel wall, wiping her hands on her pants. She glanced over the group, eyes dull with disinterest. People always revealed themselves when survival got inconvenient. It was the same argument every time. Just new faces. Whether they stayed together or not didn’t matter much in the long run. Groups broke. Cities fell. People disappeared.

She just needed to survive long enough to see what waited beyond the ruins.

And if that meant patching people up so they could argue about abandoning each other later?

Fine by her.

Giant Slayers

I'm heree, sorry i havent been active;; just finnished exam today

Giant Slayers

Emily Graves

Name: Emily Graves
Gear: 9mmm Compact pistol, homemade med-kit, Lighter/matches, scrap pouch (full of wires, batteries, metal bits, etc), water stained notebook, and a beat-up guitar strapped to her pack.
Mole/Ruin-rats

(Temporary) Description: Emily is noticeably pale, enough that people can’t tell if it’s natural or if she’s sick. Her eyes are brown with a slight red tint, giving her a tired, unfocused look. She has deep red hair—messy and long but—not really long? I guess medium is the word. (I’ll update later once i can finally get my hands on my drawing tabs)

Backround: Before the world ended, Emily Graves thought she had everything figured out. She was going to run away to some oversized neon city, sleep in tiny rooms above laundromats, play her cheap guitar on sidewalks until her fingers bled, and pretend she didn’t hear her parent's voices telling her to "grow up and become someone." College meant nothing to her. She wanted stages, not stethoscopes. Music, not med school interviews. Freedom, not the endless job-application hell everyone else saw as the “proper path.” People said she wouldn’t last a month like that. Well—they were technically right—just not for the reasons they imagined. Because the month the world collapsed, Emily was standing in a subway station, counting her meager gig money and trying to decide if ramen or expired convenience-store bread would be her dinner. She thought she’d finally escaped expectations. Instead, she watched the city she dreamed of swallowing her whole get pulverized by Giants like it was made of cardboard. And weirdly enough, she didn’t cry. She just stared, dazed, as if life had simply skipped a track on a broken CD player. Sure, the apocalypse was worse—much worse—but in its own twisted way, it removed the last burden she’d been carrying: people expecting her to be something she wasn’t. No more college. No more job interviews. No more pressure to be a “success.” Just survival.

Everyone’s too busy trying not to die to care whether Emily Graves is immature, lazy, aimless, or self-destructive. And she finds a strange comfort in that. The world finally matches her: cracked, chaotic, and exhausted. Now, when Ruin-Rats look at her drifting around scavenging junk for “experiments” or humming songs while giants roam the horizon, they just shake their heads. She’s a washed-up musician who never made it big. An almost-doctor who never studied. A dreamer who couldn’t dream fast enough to outrun the end of the world.

Giant Slayers

@Ikan Not bad! I appreciate the decision to not go too grim; it makes me think of a more muted "zom100", or Zombieland. Not everyone handled The End the same way.

For being so pale, do you think the Rats mistake her for a Mole? lol

In any case, I approve the character, feel free to post this in the character tab. Just please @ me in ooc when you edit to add the image?

@RickyG85

Sure I'll tag you! Also, Zom100 is litterly the insperation for my character haha. I was afraid it'd turns out to be too cartoonish, but i'm glad you like it :D

Giant Slayers

Name: Emily Graves
Gear: 9mmm Compact pistol, homemade med-kit, Lighter/matches, scrap pouch (full of wires, batteries, metal bits, etc), water stained notebook, and a beat-up guitar strapped to her pack.
Mole/Ruin-rats

(Temporary) Description: Emily is noticeably pale, enough that people can’t tell if it’s natural or if she’s sick. Her eyes are brown with a slight red tint, giving her a tired, unfocused look. She has deep red hair—messy and long but—not really long? I guess medium is the word. (I’ll update later once i can finally get my hands on my drawing tablet)

Backround: Before the world ended, Emily Graves thought she had everything figured out. She was going to run away to some oversized neon city, sleep in tiny rooms above laundromats, play her cheap guitar on sidewalks until her fingers bled, and pretend she didn’t hear her parent's voices telling her to "grow up and become someone." College meant nothing to her. She wanted stages, not stethoscopes. Music, not med school interviews. Freedom, not the endless job-application hell everyone else saw as the “proper path.” People said she wouldn’t last a month like that. Well—they were technically right—just not for the reasons they imagined. Because the month the world collapsed, Emily was standing in a subway station, counting her meager gig money and trying to decide if ramen or expired convenience-store bread would be her dinner. She thought she’d finally escaped expectations. Instead, she watched the city she dreamed of swallowing her whole get pulverized by Giants like it was made of cardboard. And weirdly enough, she didn’t cry. She just stared, dazed, as if life had simply skipped a track on a broken CD player. Sure, the apocalypse was worse—much worse—but in its own twisted way, it removed the last burden she’d been carrying: people expecting her to be something she wasn’t. No more college. No more job interviews. No more pressure to be a “success.” Just survival.

Everyone’s too busy trying not to die to care whether Emily Graves is immature, lazy, aimless, or self-destructive. And she finds a strange comfort in that. The world finally matches her: cracked, chaotic, and exhausted. Now, when Ruin-Rats look at her drifting around scavenging junk for “experiments” or humming songs while giants roam the horizon, they just shake their heads. She’s a washed-up musician who never made it big. An almost-doctor who never studied. A dreamer who couldn’t dream fast enough to outrun the end of the world.

Giant Slayers

@Shovel@Ikan

Busy week, here in the US, so no worries/rush about submitting characters, hope y'all are having a good one!

@RickyG85

It's been pretty bussy here too. I have exam next week, so theres a lot to prepare;; goodluck with your weeks too!

Giant Slayers

<Snipped quote by Ikan>

2025 is the most advanced you'll be able to find, the surface and smaller shelters will rely more on stuff that's adapted/scrounged and held together with duct tape or something, yeah.

@RickyG85

I see, cool.

Btw here’s the progress on my character so far. It’s still a rough concept, but I’ve been having a lot of fun experimenting with a style that fits the setting. I know a character image isn’t a 'must', but I enjoy visualizing my designs, so I thought I’d share it ^^

Giant Slayers

<Snipped quote by Ikan>

Hmmm... Well, what I described would imply (I thought) that nothing is really "common", certainly not on the surface. But, in the larger bunkers I suppose some civilians still have smartphones? I've been doing rpg's since I was 15; I know you're trying to get at something, but I can't quite figure out what?

Honestly I hadn't thought of where it would take place. My mind defaults to North America.

@RickyG85

Sorry if my earlier question came across oddly;; — what I really meant was just to understand what kind of equipment and tools Moles, Ruin-Rats, and Rangers rely on. Since everything collapsed so fast, should I assume they mostly use scavenged 2025-era tools and weapons, or is there room for improvised or adapted tech in underground shelters?