QT

Among the Ruined - Season 4

Floyd / Alison - Infirmary

Everyone had a job, or so it was told by their leader Tremblay. It was a system of responsibility, all citizens having to work to remain in the community. It was a small price to pay for future safety, outside the blockades was a murderous world. It was different and not everyone could survive, especially the civilized and the weak. Many had been in Baton Rogue since the beginning, helping build the faction and provide many with security and well-being. People of different races, ethnicity, and cultures all coming together to ensure their survival. It became like a brotherhood or sisterhood. There was education, there was religion, but it didn't separate the people, it united them. It gave them a sense of what the world used to be and not what it had actually become. Unlike other groups settled in the capital, Tremblay's group seemed to be the only 'normal' ones. All those others were brutal human beings who have experienced the outside and been there too long - far too long. It was said that by living outside the walls, the person would be destined to lose themselves. They call people hidden from reality weak and unworthy of living, but for a lot of the residents, it was the opposite. It was always dangerous to bring in outsiders because they were unpredictable. A lot had irrational ways of doing things, prepared to kill or hurt whoever stood in their way. So Tremblay's act of kindness could be their downfall.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The community's physical therapist opened the door to one of private rooms and looked onto the newcomers who had just stepped into her facility. There were three of them, two males, one female. The young PT squinted her eyes at the sight of all of them. They looked beat, not only physically, but mentally as well. They had that look in their eye, that blank facial feature that tore them from reality. These were the ones that really had to fight for their survival, and it was noted. Alison Irving was the name of the doctor who would be treating their bruises and near-broken bodies that morning. She unstrapped her walkie from her belt and called for backup. Backup in reference to guards - she became afraid at the sight of her patients, fearing their animal urgency to attack. Her job was to overlook any injuries from the townspeople, be they original members, tenants, newcomers and what not. So after the guards arrived, she signaled to them that she would begin the inspection. The guards - two of them - stood motionless by the door holding their weapons to their chests. Protocol called upon fearful persuasion rather than brutal action, so they weren't supposed to fire unless the situation became violent. But it was obvious that these three did not want to be there - it seemed like instinct was telling them to flee.

To begin, Alison stood by the door and called upon Aiden with a gesture from her hand. "Come on in, there's nothing to fear" she stated, letting him walk into the room first. He didn't seem as rigid or tense as the other two, as though he didn't belong with the other two. The file said they were in a group together, but who knew, nowadays, what did together really mean? Anyway, Alison closed the door behind her after they were both inside, no sound emitting from the room to the outside hall. Floyd sat in the chair in what seemed like a waiting room, full of nothing but chairs and old empty vending machines. Imogen sat a seat in the seat right to him, the girl looking as rough as Floyd. The man repeatedly tapped his foot against the ground, recollecting on what he had seen about twelve hours ago. He couldn't get his mind off of it......

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

12 Hours Ago

Walking into the large community guarded by armed men and blockades in every gap of the town, Floyd's beady little eyes looked around curiously. He was searching for a possible escape route, his desire to return for Hank and the others erupting inside him. When he slowed down, the guard behind him would push him to hurry up as though they were rushing for some reason. Luckily, they weren't being targeted by automatic rifles or anything, a step up from their last captors for sure. But still Floyd wasn't pleased, he wasn't happy or overjoyed by their new 'home', he was just tired of it all. He was sweating profusely and his lower back hurt from all the walking he'd done. All he wanted was to call it a day and rest. Therefore, knowing he was being transported somewhere, he hoped it was a quiet room he could hit the hay in. But suddenly he heard a faint sound, his name being called from a distance. His eyes opened a bit more and his chin turned up to help his head look around. Left and right he turned in attempt to pinpoint the calling, but he couldn't see anything, the sun blinding him in nearly every direction.

He stopped in his tracks and turned to his left as the yelling grew louder. "Hank?" Floyd thought, his eyes peering so he could see who it was. Just then, as his eyes clearly revealed the person, the world just seemed to stop spinning on its axis. The guards didn't seem to be moving, leaves falling off trees in slow motion and never reaching the ground. Even the wind became silent, clouds above disappearing from sight as though a gift was provided by the heavens. Floyd watched but couldn't believe, the possibility didn't seem real. He tilted his head to the right a little, questioning the truth of actuality. Light pierced on the woman rushing in his direction, creating an angelical aura around her. Floyd then tried to speak, but words wouldn't come out, his throat was dry and sore. But finally, he swallowed and the glands in his mouth replenished the absent saliva. "Je-" he started before being interrupted by a pushing guard.

Snapping, Floyd turned around and punched the brute dead in the face, his knuckles bruising red immediately. The guard dropped in that single shot, giving Floyd an opening to run to a person he thought was lost. He ran to the girl, pants torn at the knees, shoes tied to his ankles by laces. "Jess!" he yelled as other guards ran after him. Her small figure ran towards him too, her dark hair flowing through the now insistent wind. Suddenly, Floyd saw her become apprehended by someone so he sped up. Before he was able to reach her, a guard caught him by the shirt and threw him on the ground, he spun and landed on his back. Floyd grunted at his fall, hitting the back of his head when he came down. The other soldier reached him too, landing on him with a hard right knee to lock him still. They twisted his arms and once again put on the shackles from before. Forcing him up, they escorted him away. Floyd looked into Jess' eyes all the way to his chambers still in disbelief for their reunion was not what he'd hope it would be - like always, it had all happened so fast.

---------------------------------------------------------------

After about thirty minutes or so, the door to Alison's private room opened up. Aiden was let out by the physician then resumed his seat between Floyd and Imogen. "Thank you Aiden" Alison said, learning his name by the conversation they had in the room. Floyd turned to Aiden wondering what he had told her and what the woman had asked. Was she not a doctor? Why ask questions? He became hesitant knowing he would soon be going in there. He had it in his mind that he wouldn't say a damn thing, keep quiet and just get heeled like it was supposed to go down. Then he would leave and let that be that. He didn't plan on cooperating, these weren't his people.

The PT then signaled Floyd to enter the room. She stepped to the side to let him walk in first just like she had done with Aiden. At first Floyd didn't stand, just sat there looking at her with those eyes of his. He wanted to nod and say he wasn't gonna go in, but the guards seemed to have stepped closer when he wasn't listening. "I don't bite" Alison joked, giving Floyd a smile in attempts to calm his nerves. Turning to the other two, Floyd pushed against the chair to help himself up. For a second he just stood there, trying to diagnose her and the staring into the room. He couldn't see anything that stood out really nor notice any weapons on the woman. He wasn't Aiden and going to just trust her and give away anything. But to survive for now, he decided to walk passed her and enter the private room which was shut closed behind him.

"Sit please" Alison said, offering Floyd a seat as she took one herself. But Floyd did't take advantage of her hospitality and remained standing. He walked side to side, looking through the windows of the room and at all the doctor stuff he couldn't name. He picked up a little test tube with some liquid in it and brought it to his nose, smelling the substance. "What's this?" he said, turning to Alison, but not making eye contact with the girl. "So he CAN talk!" she said as though discovering a miraculous wonder. She then leaned to her left and picked a file off the counter, also making sure to pull the pen out of one of her pockets. "So now that we know you can talk, can you tell me your name?" she asked, ready to write in the file. It was used to keep a tab on everyone in the community in addition for Alison to know what she treated if anything. But Floyd didn't budge, just put the test tube back where it was then returned to gazing out of the window in hopes to see Jess.

The PT puffed at Floyd's inability to cope with her. She was becoming frustrated and it showed all over her face - after all, she was just doing her job. She stood from her chair and opened up drawer from the counter. Floyd froze and was prepared to strike, thinking she was pulling something out to hurt him or even kill him. "Calm down" the doctor said, noticing his uneasiness. "It's just Vaseline.....for you face. Yeah, you have bruises that need to be treated. I'd also like to do a full body check-up, so if you can undress please"

Floyd raised one of his brows, "I ain't takin nuthin off" he said under his breath. Alison chuckled to herself as she got closer to Floyd. She opened the can of Vaseline and dug two of her fingers to get a decent quantity. She then raised her hands near his face where he backed away a little, his face crumbling on itself. Putting the can down, she let her free hand gently climb to his arm. "It's okay, just sit" she said in a whisper. Floyd swallowed hard as he finally turned to look her in the eye. He bit his bottom lip and sat down, letting the doctor start applying the ointment swiftly through his bruises. "Floyd" the redneck murmured. When he spoke the girl seemed surprised and her eyes widened. Then a sweet smile formed on her face. "It's nice to meet you Floyd. I'm Alison Irving. Welcome to paradise"

Among the Ruined - Season 4

Hank

There was no going back, there was no reversing, no traveling back in time, it was already too late to act. A moment of hesitation could ruin the life of an individual and everyone he cared about. The past would always be poignant, despair and sorrow crawling back into the minds of its victims. Memories hurt, a painful ache in the mind that was difficult to forget and too easy to remember. In this new world, everyone had or would own such memories - haunting recollections that either broke apart the will to live, or reinforced it. It was a living nightmare, and there seemed no way of waking from it. So as the sun rays struck at the vehicle, wheels spun at thirty five miles an hour, the chosen two recalled those memories of despair as they traveled onward. The wind blew through the hair of both survivors, bright light burning the outer layer of their skin. The man wore a tank top, his arms revealed and now red from the mass amount of heat that day. His expression was blank, his eyes seemingly lost in thought. He stared at the ground - in this case, the bed of a truck - and remained motionless, surrounded by his new captors. He spoke nothing, remained silent just like the environment around him. His fist were clenched, veins popping at his wrist and moving up his forearms every time he dug his fingers deeper into his palm. He had promised it wouldn't happen again, but it did.....

----------------------------------------------------------------

Previous Day

A second gunshot echoed through the woods surrounding them, no hesitation from the shooter. Instead, he put on a smile of satisfaction as he bust a bullet through the head of his slave. Immediately, the slave tumbled to the ground, his body left dead with no opportunity to return as a soulless corpse. Hank's entire body went numb, his eyes preaching open alongside his mouth. A strain of saliva already connected from his bottom lip to his front teeth as his breath became colder. The redness in his eyes deciphered his emotions, his look defining the desperation and pain he was enduring. The man fell to his knees and forcefully crashed his own forehead into the hard road. He yelled desperately, eyelids clenching together as he let it all out. He couldn't even scream correctly as his chest became so full of hate and guilt. Tears were forced through the thin gaps in his eyes, leaving drops on the ground beneath him. He beat his forehead again and again, trying to stop the killing and end the suffering.

"Get him up!" Treis called out to his minions, the soldiers picking Hank off the ground by force. Hank couldn't even feel his legs anymore and was carried like rag doll. "See Jon, this happens when people like you and Tremblay don't follow protocol. We had a deal, but y'all broke it, so here are the consequences. Nonetheless, we expect to receive our share for these two. Seek to it" Richard Treis finished, signaling his members to give the other group the remaining slaves.

As he was carried by the shoulders, Hank had come to a halt on the grieving. Now he just felt weak and drained from that eruption of emotions. His body reestablished itself, giving him the ability to walk once more. Slowly as he was being passed to the soldiers of said other group, he started taking steps towards their vehicles. It was as though he had given up, or was it just an escape? Regardless, he continued to stare at the bodies behind him. The muscles in his neck were put in stress as they twisted right for Hank to look. Seth was gone. Aaliyah was gone. And the mourning wife of his best friend was killed before his eyes as well. All three were shot directly in the back of the head with no remorse. The sight of their blood gushing through the front of their skull could not be described in words. Like most of the horrors on this earth, words have become mere understatements and could not describe the reality of any situation. Some may say this place was hell, but one could survive in hell. As of now, it was he and Heather who were being traded to Tremblay - not Seth and Aaliyah who were the initial quarry. Last thing Hank heard from Richard was his desire to take Aaliyah and Seth's bodies back to hang among the ruined.

After being loaded onto the new trucks, Hank said his final goodies to his friends. He murmured under his own breath in apologies and then resumed his silence, the silence of a lost man who's world had seemingly become armageddon. It was now survival of the fittest. Man vs man, man vs nature, man vs society, and most important, man vs self.

Among the Ruined - Season 4

My Characters:

Hank Galey

Floyd Conlon

Jennifer Smith

Seth Nguyen

Richard Treis

Alison Irving

The Walking Dead - Among the Ruined - Season 3

Floyd Conlon - Baton Rogue - Tremblay/Jon

As the covering blindfold was removed from his filthy face, Floyd squinted his eyes at the sight of the illuminating sun. The rays burned his pupils, providing him with a desired discomfort. His eyes flickered open and closed as his vision adjusted to the lighting of his surroundings. He couldn't rub his face because his hands were still shackled together with numerous zip tie. Hair falling down over his face like a rough rider. He looked nearly like a homeless man - which in reality they all were - but he had never been labeled one in the real world.

So as this mysterious Tremblay spoke, Floyd lifted his chin and looked towards the standing form. The sun was right behind him, so his facial features were covered by a beam of white glare, only the outline of his body was visible. What wasn't coated was everything he was spilling from his mouth. Floyd believed it all to be bullshit, not lies, but bullshit. Their entire situation didn't seem to change, because they were slaves with Robert, and they're slaves now with Tremblay. Floyd despised being beaten by such animals, lowered to the rank of property. He hated the fact that he couldn't do anything about it. This was their reality now, there was no time to grieve, no time to reminiscent on past events. Floyd didn't even allow himself to recall what happened to Hank and the others, he pushed it aside and deep down into a the hateful void in his mind. It was so easy to hate and to forget.

With burning eyes and a ring shinning blue around his pupils, Floyd let his body heat increase, fighting the urge to attack the ravages before him. He was using all of needed strength to hold himself back, both mentally and physically. But aside from his rage, Floyd did indeed feel. Like everyone, he was human, but tempted to push aside all those unpleasant memories so he wouldn't reveal that weakness to anyone. He becomes loud in order to hide those true emotions, an near-perfect barrier around his sentimental side.

Floyd turned to his left to see Imogen and Aidan alongside him, both still chained up as well. He frowned, not because he preferred other individuals beside him, but because he was tired of losing people. Everyone he has come across has either died, vanished, or will soon be killed by an outside force. Jess was the first to go. Abram followed. Where they dead? Floyd was still unsure what to believe. He was skeptical, wanting to assume that Abram had got her out, but couldn't bring himself to even think of them. He would rather just forget than believe they were dead. So as the man before him continued to lay down the foundation of this community they'd be entering, Floyd drifted his eyes towards the ground, taking it all in.

He suddenly jumped when a guard came out of nowhere and started to unzip his hands. Floyd twisted his neck to the right in attempt to get a good look at the man, but couldn't see him. He felt uneasy having his captors so close to him, grunting as he was forced to move. Then his eyes caught a man with a familiar voice, the same man who loaded them to the truck in the first place. He had him so close that he could tear his throat off with his mere teeth, but that would only get everyone on his side killed. This was their reality now and they were going have to adapt to it to survive, or fight it and hope they can beat it.

The Walking Dead - Among the Ruined - Season 3

The Trade

"LET ME GO! NO! HANK! HANK!" Floyd yelled from the top of his lungs. His throat opened more than ever before, allowing his rant to grow louder and full of volume.

His gruff voice escalated as he tried to fight off his new captors. "Let me go" he would add occasionally, only to be met with physical restraint. He shook left and right, but could not manage to become unattached from his locks. Floyd didn't need his vision to know what was going on, his earshot was phenomenal. He could hear Hank's voice become more distant as he was pushed atop another truck. His sandpaper like skin could feel the difference in the surface of the vehicle's bed, clearing up that this was not the truck they were initially placed into. In addition, he heard everything this newcomer had said about leaving behind three of the captives, so was given in detail what would occur.

Floyd's screams finally concluded when he was struck down by a near jaw-breaking hook. Imogen's familiar voice called out to make sure he was alright, not stopping until he answered her with a nod.

"You tell Tremblay that this is not how we negotiate, but we'll see to this........unfortunate trade the way he wants. Tomorrow we shall bring the Asian one and the Negro. We'll take these back, but expect a little heads up next time alright? We don't like wasting our time having to chain these people up, it's rather difficult. But we'll see you here tomorrow. Guys, load up!" Treis called out to his men, having them retrieve the unwanted prisoners and load them up. Hank fought against the moving hands that took hold of his arms. He swiftly moved his shoulders quickly in attempt to hit them, but couldn't manage to get anyone. "NO! NOO!" he started to yet, not wanting to be separated from his group - his family.

"Please don't do this" he started to beg, dropping to his knees and looking in every direction, his eyes still covered by the blindfold. "Take us with you, tell Tremblay we can be an asset, please!" Hank called out again, trying to convince the other captor to change his mind. The situation overall was contradictory. Trying to escape one captor to only land in the hands of another didn't seem all that smart, but there wasn't any other option. The option was to either pick a captor who beats you and kills those you love, or try another captor in attempt to survive. They didn't know what this other guy could do, but they sure as hell knew they couldn't remain with Treis.

"Shut up!" Treis said in a rush, kicking Hank in the face with his gravel filled boot. Hank fell on the concrete face first, blood squirming from the side of his mouth. Jennifer had already been forced onto the truck, her tears had completely stained the blindfold. It had turned from red to burgundy. It was all moving in slow motion for Hank as he lay there, head spinning as his restrained body remain motionless. The supremacist picked him off the ground and tossed him into the truck bed. He hit the back of his elbow on his way in, causing his inside to tingle uncomfortably. It was as though small ticks chewed on his bones, eating away all of his marrow. He then felt the engine of the truck roar and begin to rumble under the hood - the whole truck shivered in place. Then a sharp whistle came out of nowhere, the obvious signal it was time to take off. "Were going to die" Jennifer sobbed, her assumptions unanswered due to Hank's uncertainty. The leader had no idea what would happen next. These people were unpredictable and dangerous, they could do anything they wanted to them. Hank prayed to God, the one single God he believed for his friends. He even said he'd sacrifice himself for he to save them. And then, there was silence.

Fallen Angels [Private]

First Post Reserved

Fallen Angels [Private]

- Fallen Angels MC: The motorcycle club was founded in 1989 by Franklin Huss, a motorcycle enthusiast who desired to establish a community of bikers in Gastown, Oklahoma. It originally consisted of seven members, a charted known as FAME - Fallen Angels Motorcycle Enthusiasts. During the club's initiation, rules and regulations began to sprout from Franklin. He was the one to create the foundation of the club and what it stood for. They created a 'clubhouse' in an old garage like establishment near their local bar. The club eventually started a business in mechanics. They worked precisely on motorcycles alone, fixing them, upgrading them, things of that matter. After that, they added the storage business to their resume, buying a large storage lot and renting individual storage to people. They were making decent money by this time, but it all had changed when they realized they were not the only club in Gastown.

The Angels had apparently developed themselves nearly at the same time another club was sprouting in popularity. An MC known as The Skull Crushers roamed the western region of Gastown, near Vale. Unlike the Angles, The Skull Crushers dealt with more illicit business. They were in charge of the transportation of unrestricted firearms throughout all of Crown County. Despite the Angels lack of interference with The Crushers' business, the creation of another Club was enough to cause conflict between the two organizations.

Skipping all the unnecessary details, let's move forward to what was written down in Gastown history. Old folk who have remained in Gastown since FAME started would know the tales. It was rumored, but the people of Gastown knew the truth. It was told that The Skull Crushers all moved away to another state, but the truth was that the Angels got rid of them. With the help from friends from the north, the Angels killed off every last member of The Crushers. But with the death of a club with such influence on the business of others, someone had to step into their shoes. In a unanimous decision, the Fallen Angels dived into the gun business, distributing illegal weapons throughout the County. The members weren't certain at first, but as the money began to flow, the uncertainty vanished. The club got deeper and deeper as they continued, distributing guns to other rising clubs from other towns. With allies also came enemies and problems. The Angels did most of their business with the Russians, buying guns from them and selling them to other interested customers. But the Russians had issues with the Irish, and the Angels therefore had issues with the Irish too - it was that kind of relationship.

Anyway, time to skip some other details and move forward a couple of years. The club had come to a point where some of their original members had died do to their business decisions. Franklin believed that with Gastown being free of any other club oppression, they could leave the gun business and return to their legit duties as mechanics and storage salesmen. Unfortunately, money had gotten to most of the other remaining members who desired to remain in the gun business and progress without having to work much. They believed the benefits offset the risks. Eventually, by unknown and unrecorded events, Franklin, founder of the Angels was declared dead after being found in his home with three bullets to the chest. There was insufficient evidence to find the killer, but signs tied it to the Irish mafia. The Angels continued and are currently still smuggling guns.

- Gastown: Small town measuring 23.7 sq. mi. located in southern Oklahoma, bounded by the Northwater area and two other towns - Wedgwood and Stoneham. It is sixty miles from both Waytown and Pryvale, and only about twenty miles from Stoneham. The boundaries of Gastown end at the Deerhaven reservation and Vale, going east and west. The lowest temperature written down for Gastown has been 31F during winter and its highest 94F during summer. Its usual temperature lands around the high seventies.

Images

- Cook's Corner: This local bar is very popular to the Fallen Angels MC. The club knows it to be their drop bar, where they keep their unmarked bills instead of depositing them at any of Gastown's banks. This is also where they spend time chilling and drinking while talking some Club business in the backrooms.

image

Original Seven:

Franklin Huss - Deceased
Christopher Koteas - Current President
Edwin Morales - Deceased
Jake "Chewy" Miller - Deceased
Victor Dixon - Currently in Federal Prison
Steven Russell - Current Secretary
Hank McCray - Deceased

- Now, this roleplay will take place after Current President Christopher Koteas has recruited an entire new charter to replaced his lost friends. There doesn't only have to be a total of seven members, there can be more, but I'd like to keep it a small group. Because this is a private roleplay, only those invited will be able to participate. The problem with that is that if I am unable to fill the slots with invited players, I'll have to create NPC characters to make more club members. But anyway, the RP (i hope) will have a lot of intense drama that'll keep everyone in tune.

As for the type of character you can create, DO NOT FEAR LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! Yes, the Fallen Angels are an all MALE group, meaning only men are able to actually wear the patch and be a full pledged member, BUT do not let that discourage you from making female characters if you are a female or if that's your thang. Make a member's girlfriend, a girl who works at the local bar, a teacher, whatever! Just have some kind of involvement with the club, so that you are not left out. Now, about making police officers who are against the Angels, that's gonna be hard to work with. If you want to be a cop who's corrupt and works for/with the Angels, that's a better choice. It's best to be involved in a way that you are able to communicate with club members because the roleplay revolves around them for the most part.

Do I have a plot in mind and a direction for where the RP will be headed? Yes. Thing is, without knowing what kind of character you guys joining me will be making, or the type of decision you'll make throughout the RP, there will always be change. I will also try to accommodate everyone and attempt to make sure they aren't lost int he action and can post regularly.

Character Sheet: (you may change format as long as all information needed is present)

Name:
Nickname: (if applicable)
Appearance: (No anime/No CGI)
Age:
Height:
Rank: (if a member, state their rank in the club. Rank is not necessary) Ex: Rode Captain, Sgt-at-Arms, Prospect, etc.
Occupation: (only for those with non-club member characters)
Background: (Include involvement with the club....plz)
Personality:
Likes:
Dislikes:
Motorcycle: (include image of the Harley they ride if they are a club member)

NOTE: IF YOU SEE THIS OOC AND REEEEEEAAAAAALLLLLLYYYYY WISH TO JOIN, PM ME

The Walking Dead - Among the Ruined - Season 3

Trading Center - Richard Treis "PLEASE STOP!!" Jennifer screamed, begging Treis' soldier to stop with deafening howls. Tears flooded through the banana that blinded her as irksome sobs reformed. "....please..." she repeated with more helpless desperation, hands tied together and resting on her thighs. The woman lay motionless on her knees as her chains rattled with Floyd trying to do something about their situation. He shook and fought the overwhelming oppression, but was met with violence every time he moved. He was also placed on his knees, but was forced to lean to the left as Hank's busted body dragged him sideways. They had not been released from their chains, so remained tied to one another. As stated before, when one fell, the rest followed. "Let em' go" the redneck would say under his own breath from time to time, but had no impact on the mindset of their enemy. They could not even see what was going on, but could only imagine the unfolding events. The sound of Hank's grunts and rugged coughs fabricated an image encompassed by a agonizing theme. The word painful could not describe the actual pain their leader was experiencing. Floyd felt drops of liquid come in contact with his arm from time to time, but didn't know what the substance was. He had the impression it was Hank's blood, but could not tell if he were just imagining it all. Underneath those blindfolds and knowing Floyd, there was obvious intent to hurt. Hank had said it. They were now in a position where it was kill or be killed. If the group made it out of this one with their lives, it was time to reminisce on their past events and morph into something that would keep them from such dangerous affairs. These people came treated them like effigies, objects to be used for the sole purpose of anger management. Just about ten minutes ago, the group had been removed from the truck's bed and onto the concrete. They had stopped as it seemed they arrived at their destination of trade. The community leader, Richard Treis, gratefully briefed them on what would happen from this point forward. "You will be given to Tremblay. Do not ask who he is, for you will soon find out. Just know that we take good care of our kind, so you have no reason to fear. Because you have chosen to not join our cause, you will not be accepted into our home. But because we are good common folk, we give you a second opportunity under the supervision of Tremblay. You will now forever live under his notion and never step foot in our lands. If you do, you die. But now, we wait for the men who will take you to their community. I hope you like it there. You'd of been a great addition to our cause" he had finished right before he allowed the others to beat Hank. He did nothing to stop them, nor was the one who commanded them to do so, the men just attacked him on their own. They said Hank broke the rules and peeked, then pulled him off the truck with the others and immediately started to strike him to the ground. It was completely brutality sugarcoated by the laughter of the tyrants. Sooner or later, the supremacist bunch stopped hammering Hank and left the man alone and silent on the frigid road. "Nigger lover" was their last comment before their steps become distant. They were still chattering in the background, so the group knew their slave drivers were close enough to see. They kept their movements to a minimum and tried to speak to each other as silently as possible. "Hank.....are you okay?" Jennifer asked, a look of concern consuming her facial features. She stopped profusely crying the second they stopped harming him, a sign of relief. But still, she was in complete despair since she could not help him, nor do anything for that matter. Hank wasn't even responding, but his breathing was loud enough to hear. He was having difficulty doing that simple self-regulating action which was a sign that he was honestly on the wrong side of the health spectrum. The group had always gotten out of the worst of scenarios, but this was just so chaotic.

Diving into The Abyss - A Shattered World

Interested

One Piece: A New Era Unfolding

I'll make a character after seeing more CS's. I'm just specifically about seeing too many Devil Fruit Users - they seem overpowered. But on another note, I'd like to play the Shipwright and already on a crew