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Muse's picture

The Little Saint

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Following will be brief glimpses of some of the continuing wasteland adventures of one Druuna Czarra, as well as some of her thoughts and concerns about those wanderings shared in various ways that will hopefully seem appropriate to each particular post and the Fallen Earth setting over all. I like to write to music so some will be set to tunes I feel enhance the mood in some way and I'll provide a link if I can.

Gormisa's picture

Who are you whacko?!

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In a secret meeting place somewhere in New Flagstaff.

"Now then, you were called Gormina.. ?"
Sitting down on a half-destroyed chair as she nods proudly. "Yes"

In front of her a small fancy dressed grew, the big shot himself, his somesort of cameraman and a bodyguard. Adjusting his glasses he sighs and asks.

"Yes, but dont you have a second name?"

Alicia's picture

Ponderances of Alicia (entry 14)

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Lost Soul's picture

Gasoline, Gears and Gun Oil -5-

Zane leans over the lathe, watching it spin down so he can examine the barrel for flaws, the light reflected off the smooth shiny surface reflects off his jet black eyes, he is so lost in thought he fails to notice Jared enter the workshop behind him.  The older thinner man approches slowly, having startled Zane before, he is leary of repeating the mistake. 


As the barrel stops spinning the distorted reflection of Jared catches Zane's attention, without turning around he says "Yes?"


Jared clears his throat,while he isn't afraid of Zane, like many of the normal people that survived, he is uncomfortable around a clone, more specifically someone who may be an alpha clone.

High Noon: Part 2 of 3

“You sent a trio of thugs to retrieve me,” Mason replied.  “I don’t see much friendship there.”

Drakken sighed and nodded, “That was a mistake, I admit it.  But I didn’t have any idea on your state of mind.  I suppose it was a bad idea but again maybe it was?  Who knows?  If I approached you personally, I could have been the one with a machete in my skull.”

“Why the worry?”

John Rose's picture

Who? What? Where? -1- The Phone


 (( This is a scrap of information about the backstory of my char, John Rose.  He has amnesia and is trying to find out who he is, you can get involved in the storyline.  I will be posting bits and pieces of information with a small puzzle or riddle or something like that at the end, be the first to figure it out and send me a PM... You have permission to be the person to have officially come across the info in the game.  If you decide to be the person to claim the right to be the one who finds out the information, please be involved in the story so it isnt wasted. Thanks for taking the time to read this ))


          Somewhere in the wasteland

Lost Soul's picture

Gasoline, Gears and Gun Oil -4-

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A man sits in his back yard, the sounds of a quiet suburban neighborhood on a lazy Saturday afternoon, a little girl no more than 10 plays on the emerald green grass a short distance away.  He looks back toward the hows to see a blonde woman in a blue dress pause breifly at the open back door to smile at him.  The man takes a long drink from his cold beer, savoring the smell of fresh cut grass, watching the girl play.


Suddenly the young girl gets up and runs over jumping into his lap, in her arms a small kitten, a baby bonnette on its head, the animal seems to take the abuse in good humor as it dangles from the little girl's arm.


"Play with me daddy," the little girl grins at the man, "Look at my kitty, isn't she pretty?"

Lost Soul's picture

Gasoline, Gears and Gun Oil - 3-

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The rented room in Pictus Ridge is dark, a thin silver of moonlight cuts passed the edge of the blanket over the window.  Sitting on the floor Zane can be barely made out raising his hand and the glass in it to his mouth, his bike lies on its side on the floor.  He takes a long drink draining the glass before filling it again and bringing it to his lips.  A drop of dark liquid runs down from his forehead to drip off the end of his nose into the glass dissapating into the liquor.


Zane lets out a long heavy sigh.


He turns toward the window, the moonlight strikes his face, taking half of it out of shadow, one eye glints as the other is swollen shut, half his face looks dark and wet, he snears at the light, then takes another drink. 

Lost Soul's picture

Gasoline, Gears and Gun Oil -2-

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He walks up the stone path toward the house, flowers line the walk, up the steps then he stops. The door's broken, the lock and frame shattered by a forceful impact, the man starts, then moves with renewed haste as he begins to shout two names, the voice is distorted, unclear, but the panic is evident.  Moving through the house he check the living room, a still steaming coffee cup sits on the oak end table, the television still on, the kitchen, supper cooking on the stove just starting to burn, he calls the names again, still nothing.  Moving faster through the house he races up the stairs, first a young girls bedroom, its empty, the dresser in disarray as if someone packed in a hurry, the master bedroom he finds the same thing. 

Lost Soul's picture

Gasoline, Gears and Gun Oil

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The heat in the room causes the air to waver, covered in a sheen of sweat, Zane manuvers the newly formed frame onto the work table, pulling up his welding goggles to examine his work.  Eyes as black as the lenses of the goggles trace over each weld his thumb checking for burs or flaws in the steel.


"Not bad...could be lighter...a bit stronger..:" Zane mumbles to himself, no one to hear him anyway, no one else is up at this hour.  He takes out a file, and begins to fuss over imperfections in the welds and joints of the frame.


"What was I thinkin'...who am I...nobody that's who...why did I even do that...?" he sighs heavily taking his frustration out on the metal with the file.

Lost Soul's picture

Gasoline, Gears and Gun Oil -0-

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((First an apology for the spam I am about to commit.  I have been posting my new journal over on the Invicta page and keep meaning to copy it over here but haven't had the time.  Well today I do.  As always coments are welcome, if you prefer not to comment in the blog, feel free to send me a PM))

High Noon: Part 1 of 3

The sun was blazing above the wasteland skies as Mason sat on his horse observing a broken down warehouse along the outskirts of Embry Crossroads.  He had been watching it since the early morning, monitoring the movements of those who patrolled it as well as watching who came and went.  About a dozen men were there; half were patrolling around the warehouse while the other six were inside.  Of the dozen men, only one mattered to Mason.  It was not long ago when he had pulled up to the warehouse on a motorcycle and entered the warehouse.

A precious thing called hope

Oleandria open her eyes. Sunlight was entering the room through the cracks left by the wooden planks nailed to the window frame. But even the few light streams that manage to pierce into the room where light enough to show her she didn't recognize the room she was currently lying in. The covers also didn't smell like she was used to but it wasn't complete strange to her, although so she couldn't place the sent. She lied still for a few moments, listening to the sounds that were coming from outside.

Archer's picture

Archer's Brown Leather Journal

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((This is my first attempt at making a character journal. I've never really been into these things but I figured it wouldn't hurt to try it out. I'll still make a few other journal posts that are actual stories but this one will be updated hopefully on a daily basis. This IC information is to be viewed OOC only (Unfortunately) however if given permission, you CAN use this information IC.))

Boyd's picture

A Man and His Hat

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Lovers come and go. Friends are a scarce resource in a desolate world. But hats? Well, a man will only have one hat that fits him just right throughout his adult life and gives others a symbol of himself to come to know and respect, or fear if the circumstance calls for it. I was glad to have such a hat but today I've lost that one hat and with it a memory to never be regained. Something far more important than the hat that few in this world know of or have ever seen.

My Journey: Entry 3

I am at Embry Crossroads hoping to find Drakken.  I could have asked around for him but that would have tipped him off that I was at Embry.  I suspect he knows I am tracking him but it affords me some advantage if he doesn’t know my precise location.  I took my time travelling across the wastelands and made damn sure I covered my tracks and even circled around to confuse anyone who might be following me.

Gormisa's picture

Too kinkeh.. Too Messeh.. Part Two

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((Annoying voice: Previously in Spider Hill! Sexy Mistress of bloody wrath had taken quest to kill spiders in spiders main evil nest, she went there and killed plenty! But because of her naive mind and greed got surrounded by horny big alpha male spiders who want to rape her and lay eggs around her corpse.))

My Journey: Entry 2

I normally do not write about my dreams but I think it’s about time I did.  I suspected that my dreams were manifestations of my past life or lives and I think my assumptions are correct.

I saw Drakken in my dreams or at least I think it was him.  He’s clean shaven bald with a large nose like a hawk.  He also has small blue piercing eyes.  Drakken is average height and weight but he moved fast with exceptional strength. 

Gormisa's picture

Too kinkeh.. Too Messeh.. Part One

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Nightfall.. It had gone down early as Gormina was getting rid of the spider infestation around Spider Hill, making her way down the narrow path along the cliffside, shooting encroaching spiders time and time again, staring half of the time over to the horizon, clopping sound echoed from her self modified cowboy boots with heels, sighing to herself as she thought. "What a lame day it has been, one bar fight.. none action on the road.. just.. spiders..

((Ideas of changes))

Hmm I've been thinking of next steps to do for a journal entry, and it just seems boring to be an immortal clone. Especially when the people recreating clones of you are the very people who you want to bury underground...I think I'm going to figure a way to have the clone thing continue, but have like a "final betrayal" moment in my story to truely free me from my creators, and turn me into a "one-lifer" If you have any ideas let me hear it, I'll see what kind of twists I can put down to turn me into an actual character, and not some clone mr. stu.

Out of the Womb

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((Its been a while since I tried making an RP journal like this, so please easy on the Critiques xD))


Prrrsshhhhh. Woooosh.


The first few things I hear as my pod opens as I awaken, air rushing to fill my surrounding area.. Bright lights burn into my eyes, bluring my vision. Cannot look away! Close eyes. Breathing heavily, panicing. What the hell is going on!? Turn head. Turn again. Squirm! Open your eyes! Bright lights dim. Vision...clear. It's okay, calm down.  Breathe. 


I close my eyes and take a deep breath, then open them back up as I start to analyze my surroundings. Filthy. Dirty. I lean my head down and take a look at my pod. Clean. Comfortable. Cold...

Splintered psychosis in stasis

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(( Following Ritter's mental implosion his Lifenet Data was stored in a secured facility. Due to the nature of his mental state, portions of his mind are still awake. During this period they constantly feed back and forth on themselves, reliving portions of his life in bits and flashes. ))

Ritter looked out over the side of the highway as his bike flew across the broken pavement. Dust kicked up and zipped past him as his fellow Prospect Jax came up alongside him. Grinning back at him and jamming his throttle full open they both increased their speed to break-neck rates, racing each other across the wasteland.

"Yo Jax! Twenty chips says you won't go through the Devil's Own up ahead!"

"Eat it Ritter! You're on asshole!"

Roberto Torrente's picture

A Little Heart to Heart

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Robbie leaned back against the wall and yawned, looking down at the pistol in his hand with a somewhat bemused expression. Funny how you can yawn at the strangest times. That was something to think about later, though. There was the business at hand which needed his full attention. Rolling his right shoulder around in it's socket, he looked back up and at the younger man seated in a rickety chair across the room.

Archer's picture

Codename: Archer Part 1: Operation FAWL

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Keywords:

October 24th, 2049     Somewhere in the Caucasus Mountains

 

New Revelations

“You’re still getting those blackouts?” Karri Hatchet asked with a sympathetic tone as she watched Mason unloading some packs off his horse Manny. 

Mason continued his unloading without pause as he answered, “Not since the incident a few days ago.”

Zero's picture

Darrens Journal - Entry One

(( I myself am very hesitant to make a journal, but I thought it would be best to start somewhere. Depending on how well the Feedback is, I might do more. This will be a simple short journal entry. ))

(( This was written to Penumbras soundtrack. ))

Vorela's picture

Vorela's Ramblings - Sept 14

I didn’t realize when I offered to take Soya to my usual crash pad in Flagstaff for her to recuperate in (so that she didn’t have to listen to Drax and Jela go at it all night, can’t say I blame her) that I’d end up with half the clan camping out with us.  So much for secrecy and privacy.  Ah well, it’s actually been kind of fun.  And it’s nice to have someone else cook for me for a change, as temporary as it might be.  Drax can sure cook a mean omelette.

Roberto Torrente's picture

Before the Fall - 4

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Robbie collapsed back against the instrument panel, utter shock slowly turning to dismay as the betrayal sunk in. He barely noticed the advance, crouching, of the lead biker, who still had the shotgun trained directly at him. This advance made room for 2 more, and Robbie didn't even hear Ashley's screams for help as they dragged her from the plane. After what felt like hours to his stunned mind, he was yanked out of his disbelief by the solid connection of the shotgun barrel with his jaw.

Miss Nibbles's picture

Saving Herself

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Keywords:

 


((Written to trance music and various other influences))


 

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by Dr. Radut