Red Schuhart

Crucible (Post Apocalyptic Scavengers RP)

@Who is Who

Crucible (Post Apocalyptic Scavengers RP)

Near Completion

‣ Name

Viktor «Rustbone» Drayke

‣ Appearance

‣ Gender

Male

‣ Nationality

American; ex-OCH soldier

‣ Personality

• Having a keen interest in equipment, tech advances, and weapons (from old-fashioned powder guns to plasma-based guns).
• Knowing a thing or two about cooking in the field.
• Being indifferent to religion, cults, and faith.
• Lacking interest in gambling (unless just watching from the sidelines).
• Being neutral towards alcohol and tobacco.
• Keeping away from drugs and euphoric substances, viewing them primarily as useful anesthetics.
• Being able to network anywhere, often through evening training sessions in the gym basement.

‣ Role

• Equipment repair and maintenance
• Demolition blasting
• Field cooking
• Digital intelligence operations

‣ Resume

”Viktor, just don't get caught again with your magazines on camera,” said Mike, “or else we'll fuck us up during this shift.”
“Ok, Mike.”
The weather was hot. It wasn't a bad day. Now it was my turn for watching the monitors.

We were part of the military unit of OCH, called Obsidian Conglomerate Holdings.
It's not to say that I'm here for the ideals or anything of that sort. No. I'd gladly leave this place... but where to? It's too easy to get in and hard to get out.
I already imagined how I would take off this uniform after the shift and rush home to catch up on sleep. Struggling with drowsiness and boredom, I sometimes read a bit of interesting literature. For instance, today I brought a book on the design of DIY Geiger counters, a magazine about new plasma-based engines and programming the simplest holographic interfaces.

Screens flickered. Incoming call from headquarters. It was the HQ Duty Officer.
”Order: All personnel on alert. Everyone, without exception, must be on the helipad at the airfield within 20 minutes.”

Mike ran over. “What happened?”
“Alert. Entire unit to the helipad in 20 minutes.”
“This isn't good...”

The unit was thrown into a bustle.
Metal parts of weapons and suits clattered and rattled.

As we approached the aircraft, a low, vibrating electric hum filled the air, pulsing beneath our boots. Sharp crackles and faint sizzling sounds sparked around us, making the whole scene feel charged and tense.

Twenty minutes later, we were all in the sky, checking exoskeletons, multiresonators, turbogravirs and awaiting landing.
The mission was to push into the tunnel and take back our laboratory.
From the ground, smoke billowed up everywhere, and smell of burning filled the air.
We and the allied ships came under fire from everything that exists in the whole damned world: Wave Phasers, Tretons, Multi-resonators, Turbogravirs and even Anal-Desintegrators.
“New Year's firefworks, no less!”
They wanted to fry our asses with all they had.

Approaching the ground, we jumped down. Servomotors began to hum.
A moment after the field generator was shut down, the ship was hit by a Vertex.
Fzzzzt...!
“Damn! In plain sight, it was torn into boiling metal!”

Everyone took up their positions. We were at the entrance to the tunnel. He belonged to our organization, and some bad guys decided to turn everything upside down there. Moving ahead, everything was fucking roaring and thindering; I couldn't even hear myself.
Suddenly, I was jolted — the ground was shaking. The gunfire fell silent.
A shrill whistle sounded, followed by a lull.. I threw myself behind shelter.

It became blindingly bright, then a bang.
The tunnel spewed out everything it contained.
And I blacked out.

I had a strange dream. Lots of different things.
I dreamed of the alpha star in Cygnus ..and from it, a line fell to the earth. Right onto me.
I also recall just appearing in the middle of some kind of wasteland, with a dog licking my cheek..

I was being carried on a sled..

”Is he even alive? What's in it for us? He doesn’t have anything!”
“We can't just leave him here! Maybe his entire group perished...”

I came to and... where the heck am I?
It smelled of rubbing alcohol. There were other unfortunates lying on the beds nearby. I didn't recognize any of them. This seemed like a infirmary.. but a really makeshift one. And it was definitely not ours.

“Where am I?“
An elderly man entered — bearded, wearing glasses and a padded helmet cap. He had a light lab coat on.

“Hey there, you're finally awake, lucky one!
Take it easy.
They found you out in a field. A group of scavengers was coming back from a run, their dog picked up your scent and ran over to you. When they caught up with him, they saw you. Smart dog.
They carried you here. You are in the Ripper Camp.” he said. “Overall, you're fine — no treatment required. Just a little concussion, that's all.”

”It's strange how you got there” he said, “there weren't any signs of your team at all.
And your outfit is odd, I've never seen one like it.
Stay here until you're better.”
The doctor was gone.
I really was left nothing but my uniform. Searching my pockets, I found only a notebook, a PDA, and a tag. The PDA could't connect, but at least I still had my e-books.
I was so weak that I just fell asleep.

After a few days, I stood at the heart of the camp.
What I had seen was something I was yet to understand.

‣ Contacts

• Weapons Merchant
• Field medic
• Food vendor

‣ Quirks

• Highly outgoing; knows lots of people, and sometimes these connections come in handy.
• Whenever he disassembles any fascinating piece of junk, he does it with such passion that the process can seem almost meditative, if not hypnotic.
• If among the mutated there are intelligent... Is looking to tame a mutant beast.
• He drags around something to read everywhere. It's convenient if you end up waiting somewhere.

‣ Heels

• Womans. Typically, someone in patricular.
• Recurring insomnia.
• Distrust of all authorities — corporations, government, and so on.
• A lack of patience for tedious, drawn-out labor.

The troop: Rookies

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Crucible (Post Apocalyptic Scavengers RP)

There's no going back. Nobody goes back the same way they came.

Interested

Pythagorean Sunset

Ryan, 32, City Hall Clerk.

It was one of those continuous rains, not hard, but it never stopped.
The territory I was slogging through was new to me. When your shorts get wet they slip down, down down they slip, down around the cheeks of your ass, as wet rim of a thing held up by the crotch of your pants.
That does it, I thought, only and idiot would go through what I am going through.
The moment I decided to quit, I felt much better.
Through the rain I saw a building at the end of the street. When I got down I saw it was a bar.
The sign burned:
BILLY'S BAR
There was a heater going. Well, shit, I thought, I might as well get dry. I took off my raincoat and my cap, threw the backpack with documents on the floor, and ordered a hot lemonade with vodka.

My friend's account was banned without any reason

My friend's CatBeheMath registered yesterday and was banned immediately.
And I ask admins to unban him because he had done nothing in this forum. He would like to be a part of this forum for a long time.

The troop: Rookies

Name: Henry Ziegler
Age: 27
Previous ocupation: Mason

BIO: Ziegler is both a citizen and mason of some standing. He has worked on buildings as an architect, contributing to the construction of significant structures like castles, churches, and cathedrals. He knows every kind of stone and in which circumstances they are required, and as he is a skilled tradesman, he has plenty of customers. He lives a content and humble life, and asks for nothing more than what is necessary.

the alphabet game. lol

Zipper