kittenofdeath
*Confused screeching*
- Joined
- Jun 27, 2007
- Posts
- 9,628
The nights chill bit in to Ryan’s exposed face, the rest of him was covered, but the cold wind was quickly turning his scarred features numb, and it was only an hour past nightfall, at this rate he would be a popsicle by the time he got back home from his scavenging trip. He cursed under his breath and pulled his collar up as high as it would go as he scanned his surroundings, nothing but crumbling buildings and snow capped rubble, he had been scavenging on the far side of the city, down in some of the underground metro tunnels, but he hadn’t found much worth carrying back and decided to head home, unfortunately for him he had lost track of time, so now he was caught out during the onset of winter.
“Fuck it” he grumbled, walking off the road, if you could call the line of cracked and ruined pavement a road, and in to the first building he thought wouldn’t collapse on him during the night. He made his way inside as far as he could, trying to find somewhere he could light a fire without it being seen from outside, even during winter you have to look out for marauders and bandits. Eventually he found a good spot, a half collapsed basement level with a shit ton of wooden packing crates he could use for the fire, he did his best to lock the door behind him, propping a bit of wood against the door, then pried open the door to the elevator shaft so the room wouldn’t fill with smoke.
“Home sweet home” he said with a sigh “now if only there was a bed” once he had started up the fire and made himself a makeshift stool his mood improved, partly due to his ability to feel his face returning “Now lets see what the dead guy was drinking” he pulled a flask from his inside pocket and inspected it, its polished metal surface giving him a bad reflection of his own face, curtained by his unkempt and snow matted hair. He sat there for a moment and considered his image, his face had been considered attractive, then life took its toll, a clawed mutant had put a row of scars down from his left cheekbone to his jaw, just managing to clip his lips as it went, and an incendiary grenade had put a nice crescent of burn scars up his right temple, he had been lucky not to lose the eye that day.
His gaze hardened as his reflection began to offend him, as it often did, so he turned his attention back to the flask, eager to forget painful memories. A cursory inspection revealed that it was about 2 thirds full, judging by the sound of the liquid sloshing around and the weight of the thing, he unscrewed the cap and took a whiff, instantly drawing his head away and blinking “holy shit, smells like it could strip paint” he took a quick swig and held his mouth closed with his wrist “whiskey” he said after a moments delay “and good whiskey at that” he broke in to a grin “been a while since I had something that strong.”
After another swig or two of Whiskey, and who knows how many minutes spent just sitting there, staring at the fire, Ryan started to feel sweet merciful sleep creep up him, without a word he built the fire to last the night before using his backpack as a pillow and quickly drifting off to sleep on the cold hard floor.
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Out of habit Ryan didn’t sleep long, but the whiskey had put him out for longer than usual, so when he woke up he was feeling well rested, if sore from the lack of a proper bed. He did his best to put out what was left of the fire, then gathered his things and quickly set off, trying to get underway before the urge to finish off the last of the whiskey grew too strong.
It wasn’t much warmer out than it had been last night, but at least he had sunlight, and the wind-chill was gone, so he managed to make quite good time, just under an hour of jogging brought him to the rear gate to his settlement… But something was wrong, no one was there.
He quickly ran up to the gate, which was really just a burned out bus with ramshackle armour plating, expecting someone to pop out and laugh, ha ha, got you Ryan, big joke, no one popped out. He reached for the pistol holstered on his side and slowly pulled it out, flicking the safety off with a shaking hand before heading off in to the settlement.
It didn’t take long to figure out what happened, there was blood and bullet holes scattered about, and everything of value was gone. Once he made it to the town hall his suspicions were confirmed, his friends, his family, people he never really liked that much, everyone he knew was dead and piled up on the road.
Ryan could feel tears running down his cheeks, washing away a little of the grime caked to his skin, but he couldn’t move his arm to wipe them away, he couldn’t do anything, he just stood there, staring at everyone he used to know, he didn’t even hear the faint footsteps as someone walked up behind him and pulled out a weapon.
(Looking for one woman to play the unknown person behind Ryan. Obviously this is a thread set in a generic post-apocalyptic world, with mutant creatures and no kind of govenment to speak of, but apart from that and the fact that winter is setting in, I havent thought it through much.
The basic idea I had is for your character to try and steal his stuff/sell him as a slave, then either end up keeping him for her own, or screwing up and getting caught herself, ending up as a toy for Ryan to work out his frustrations on. Anything past that is up to you.
PM me if you’re interested)
“Fuck it” he grumbled, walking off the road, if you could call the line of cracked and ruined pavement a road, and in to the first building he thought wouldn’t collapse on him during the night. He made his way inside as far as he could, trying to find somewhere he could light a fire without it being seen from outside, even during winter you have to look out for marauders and bandits. Eventually he found a good spot, a half collapsed basement level with a shit ton of wooden packing crates he could use for the fire, he did his best to lock the door behind him, propping a bit of wood against the door, then pried open the door to the elevator shaft so the room wouldn’t fill with smoke.
“Home sweet home” he said with a sigh “now if only there was a bed” once he had started up the fire and made himself a makeshift stool his mood improved, partly due to his ability to feel his face returning “Now lets see what the dead guy was drinking” he pulled a flask from his inside pocket and inspected it, its polished metal surface giving him a bad reflection of his own face, curtained by his unkempt and snow matted hair. He sat there for a moment and considered his image, his face had been considered attractive, then life took its toll, a clawed mutant had put a row of scars down from his left cheekbone to his jaw, just managing to clip his lips as it went, and an incendiary grenade had put a nice crescent of burn scars up his right temple, he had been lucky not to lose the eye that day.
His gaze hardened as his reflection began to offend him, as it often did, so he turned his attention back to the flask, eager to forget painful memories. A cursory inspection revealed that it was about 2 thirds full, judging by the sound of the liquid sloshing around and the weight of the thing, he unscrewed the cap and took a whiff, instantly drawing his head away and blinking “holy shit, smells like it could strip paint” he took a quick swig and held his mouth closed with his wrist “whiskey” he said after a moments delay “and good whiskey at that” he broke in to a grin “been a while since I had something that strong.”
After another swig or two of Whiskey, and who knows how many minutes spent just sitting there, staring at the fire, Ryan started to feel sweet merciful sleep creep up him, without a word he built the fire to last the night before using his backpack as a pillow and quickly drifting off to sleep on the cold hard floor.
**********************************************************************************
Out of habit Ryan didn’t sleep long, but the whiskey had put him out for longer than usual, so when he woke up he was feeling well rested, if sore from the lack of a proper bed. He did his best to put out what was left of the fire, then gathered his things and quickly set off, trying to get underway before the urge to finish off the last of the whiskey grew too strong.
It wasn’t much warmer out than it had been last night, but at least he had sunlight, and the wind-chill was gone, so he managed to make quite good time, just under an hour of jogging brought him to the rear gate to his settlement… But something was wrong, no one was there.
He quickly ran up to the gate, which was really just a burned out bus with ramshackle armour plating, expecting someone to pop out and laugh, ha ha, got you Ryan, big joke, no one popped out. He reached for the pistol holstered on his side and slowly pulled it out, flicking the safety off with a shaking hand before heading off in to the settlement.
It didn’t take long to figure out what happened, there was blood and bullet holes scattered about, and everything of value was gone. Once he made it to the town hall his suspicions were confirmed, his friends, his family, people he never really liked that much, everyone he knew was dead and piled up on the road.
Ryan could feel tears running down his cheeks, washing away a little of the grime caked to his skin, but he couldn’t move his arm to wipe them away, he couldn’t do anything, he just stood there, staring at everyone he used to know, he didn’t even hear the faint footsteps as someone walked up behind him and pulled out a weapon.
(Looking for one woman to play the unknown person behind Ryan. Obviously this is a thread set in a generic post-apocalyptic world, with mutant creatures and no kind of govenment to speak of, but apart from that and the fact that winter is setting in, I havent thought it through much.
The basic idea I had is for your character to try and steal his stuff/sell him as a slave, then either end up keeping him for her own, or screwing up and getting caught herself, ending up as a toy for Ryan to work out his frustrations on. Anything past that is up to you.
PM me if you’re interested)