forum Cities of Fire and Blood 2.0 //oxo // closed

Started December 27, 2019 by @croccin-champagne

tune

EDIT: Yes, this is a remake of another one of mine. It hasn't gotten started and I'm pretty excited for this.

Me, base a roleplay loosely after Daybreak(on Netflix) while ignoring the million notifications in my inbox? I'm not proud of it but yeah it's really likely. Fair warning, this was entirely spawned by the mental image of a yet-to-be named character facing off with a large group of zombies, or Feasters in this case. That's it.

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Nesryn Harlow is no stranger to fending for herself. From foster homes all the way to fighting off hordes of Feasters, she's been keeping herself afloat without the help of anyone else. Even amidst the chaos of the apocalypse, she avoids humans like the plague. Or Feasters. They're too much hassle, and have always managed to let her down one way or another, save for a number of people she could count on one hand.

And then she runs into someone she knows. After accidentally stumbling back into the only city she had ever wanted to stay in, fate, or a handful of weirdly fast Feasters, brings her right into the shelter of the exact reason she wanted to stay. The only problem is, she doesn't recognize him, and he doesn't recognize her. Two years and a couple months of barely managing to survive walking down the street have made all the difference. Which might be why they're at each other's throats constantly, even while deciding to make their way back to the center of the city together, to find a rumored shelter.

If they manage to survive each other, and the Feasters gunning for them around every corner, they might just make it somewhere safe.

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1. No OP characters, or I will yeet your ass outta here before you can say 'this bitch empty'. I can't stand invincible characters, man. Mary/Gary Sues/Stues are a hard nope from yours truly as well.

2. Proper grammar, punctuation, and capitalization, please. I can get making a few mistakes, when you're tired, or English ain't your first language(It's mine, and even I have my issues), but if it's too common a thing, it irks the hell outta me. Call me a bitch, but hey.

3. Slurs, homophobia, transphobia, rascism, sexism, anything that ends in -ism and that harms or promotes the harm of other people will not be tolerated. See my first threat. However! For plot devices, it might be considered, if you talk to me about it first.

4. Detailed-ish responses, please. Think three or more sentences. To keep it going.

5. Please, be on fairly often. Vacations, school, and jobs are all things I can get, but I'd like for this to have a regular pace!

6. Rated Spicey for just that, Spicey things. Whether it be mature topics, smexy things, or, gasp, blood, this is the only warning I'll remember to give.

7. Please keep the plot going! It's really hard for me to be invested in a roleplay if the other person reacts more than acts, and I'm excited about this premise and would love to keep it going as long as I can. I'm also looking for someone who's got a bit of experience under their belt, for the sake of my hairbrained ideas.

8. I have the full right to add and edit this list. I also have the right to boot you if you're causing too many problems.

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Name:
Age(17-19):
Sexuality:
Appearance:
Usual outfit/style:
Preferred weapons:
Skills:
Backstory:
Fears:
Other:

Name: Nesryn Harlow

Age(17-19): 17

Sexuality: She's not sure.

Appearance: Naturally tanned skin, covered in freckles that splatter across her cheeks and nose. Her face is made up of an interesting mix of sharp and soft edges, with prominent cheekbones but a bit more rounded jaw. Looks like she hasn't had an actual meal in months, and she hasn't. Not very tall, at 5'2, and used to have light curves.
Her eyes are pale green/grey, so light it's sometimes hard to tell they're there. She gets them from whichever of her parents hails from Iceland. Her hair is a lighter golden blonde, also coming from those genes, that used to be dyed a bright pink. It's grown out a bit, leaving her with her roots showing. It reaches midway to the bottom of her shoulderblades, and is very obviously self cut, even with the slight curls. Has a tattoo of a bee behind her left ear.

Usual outfit/style: Scavenges clothes from wherever she can. Has managed to hold on to her old biker's jacket, which was a gift from one of the few people she's ever trusted. It's got a gang's symbol on the back, along with the words 'Jersey Devils, Atlantic City'. It has multiple patches stuck to the sleeves, including a NASA patch and multiple patches that seem slightly meaningless. Prefers shorts over anything else, so swaps between athletic shorts and jean shorts. A lot of old band shirts and tank tops are available, so she wears those fairly often. Half the time they're tied up or cropped. Also wears a red flannel, usually either tied around her waist, or on when the jacket is the thing tied around her waist. Adores her (bloodspattered)converse high tops, which are, funny enough, canary yellow. Doesn't wear any jewelry, other than the charm bracelet she always wears.

Preferred weapons: A gun, if she has to, but prefers blowing things up.

Skills: Blowing things up. Knows a lot of people, thanks to moving around. Is good at reading people too, and can almost always tell if someone's got bad intentions, or is just a bad person. Can sew, and go for a while without food.

Backstory: foster kid, moved around a lot. that's all i'm gonna share there, for p l o t p u r p o s e s.

Fears: Her fires and explosions hurting someone who wasn't targeted. Has a fear of heights, and yet, also loves them at the same time. Hates being underground, or anywhere dark, especially that smells like mildew.

Other: Has an Akita/Pit mix named Bullet, the only companion she's had with her for a while.

mmmmmmmmmm

oh fuck yeah, you're always welcome pal!

Thank you, I'll have my character up in a sec ^-^

Name: Tomas Merlow

Age(17-19): 19

Sexuality: Doesn't like to label himself, but bisexual.

Appearance: Pale, almost a sickly shade of white, covered in freckles. His face is slim, with a soft jawline and prominent cheekbones. Fairly tall, around 5'10, and very lanky. Hasn't really eaten properly for a while and often skips meals even when he does get the chance to eat.
His eyes are dark blue and have a soft almond shape to them. His hair is a dark oak brown, and it's quite long and wavy—touches his shoulders—but he always has it up in a ponytail to keep it from going into his eyes.

Usual outfit/style: He wasn't really able to hold onto many of his old clothes, except for a few hoodies, joggers and jeans he had packed away in a bag. His favorite hoodie is a plain shade of dark cream, splattered with dried blood, that's slightly too short on his arms. His white trainers also have bloodstains on them. He's pretty boring and simple when it comes to clothing. As long as there is a hoodie and jeans, he will wear it.

Preferred weapons: A bow and arrow, though he does carry knives.

Skills: Can go for a long time without food or sleep, logical thinker, sharp aim.

Backstory: Used to be a gamer, also took part in archery classes during school time. Studied criminology and science at college, was set to go to University to become a mortician.

Fears: Someone touching him from behind, being in a large crowd.

Other: I think that's everything and I'm sorry this took so long!

don't apologize! he's great and definitely worth the time! i'll have a starter up in a little!

Alright, I'm probably going to end up passing out as it's almost 3AM but I will respond when I can

Rule number two was never stop moving. And on a list of exactly two rules for surviving the apocalypse, that was pretty easy to follow. Like a New Years resolution without the choice or champagne. Just zombie-like creatures, starvation, and other survivors. Which were arguably scarier and more deadly than the Feasters.

But for a rule that should have been so easy to follow, Nesryn sure was doing her best to break it, it seemed.

"Bullet, what the fuck are you-" Huffing a series of curses, the pink-haired teen slid out of the old car she was attempting to hotwire, following after her dog. There went escape plan one. What was escape plan one, you might ask? Getting ahold of a car and passing straight through this city as fast as possible. Simple enough, when you didn't look too far into why she wanted to get the hell out of here.

Nesryn whistled a few sharp and short notes, adjusting the strap of the bag on her shoulder as she weaved through abandoned cars, trying to keep up with—find—her dog. This counted as moving. Hopefully. As long as it was enough to keep her just out of sight and hearing range of the Feasters. And figure out wherever Bullet had run off to, because even if he'd learned not to bark, he still couldn't help himself when he saw a squirrel.

But unfortunately, no matter how quiet she was, she still managed to walk straight into the midst of a hoard of Feasters, armed with nothing but a single clip and a handgun she'd stolen from an empty car.

What a great way for the day to go.

((sorry if it's kind of messy, my brain for some reason refuses to focus on anything right now))

Rule number one was to trust only yourself, and yesterday's events were a perfect example of why that rule should be followed down to the T.
Tomas had been laying low with a small group of survivors, all of whom were prepared to defend each others' backs. Or so they liked to say. When it actually came to fighting back a large group of Feasters that had invaded the underground bunker where they were hiding, it seemed to be every man for himself. One guy used one of the girls as a human shield, meaning she… Yeah. You know what happened. I'll spare the gory details just this once.

Tomas had since then been fending for himself, refusing anyone that claimed that "two were better than one."

He silent to the shadows as he wove his way through the burning cars and dead bodies that lay strewn about the streets. Everything was silent for a moment, before he heard something that resembled a fight. It was only natural to be hearing those kinds of sounds now, so he didn't pay too much attention to it. Though what interested him most, upon seeing the fight, was the dog that barked loudly at the Feasters like it didn't have a care in the world that they could kill it.

"Great. Incredible. This is a wonderful fucking day." Nesryn's voice carried a thick amount of fake cheer, despite the fact that she was talking, essentially, to herself. It wasn't like the Feasters cared what she said or how she said it. They only cared about the flesh on her bones. Maybe the bones themselves, too. She wasn't exactly sure which they preferred.

There was a window of about thirty seconds before the Feasters realized what was going on. Nesryn knew better than to waste that, bee-lining straight for a blood-flecked crowbar laying near the open door of a car. Looks like someone else had the same idea as you. Be smarter. She scooped up the metal, swinging with a decent amount of precision at the nearest Feaster's head. She was supposed to be careful, yes. But gods, did she love the sound of improvised weapons colliding with a skull.

Unfortunately, Bullet chose about the worst time to start barking. Amidst a group of Feasters moving at her at the exact same time, she was distracted by the sound, glancing in his direction for a split second that left her nearly meeting the jaws of a Feaster, with her face. "Bullet! Quiet!"

While Tomas ran, he skidded to a halt, falling onto the gravel behind an upturned car when he realised he had been spotted. A girl, must have been around his age, and she appeared to be handling a group of Feasters——alone. Well, she had that dog with her, but he didn’t seem to help matters. The barking only drew attention to them.

Fuck it…

The girl wasn’t having much luck, Tomas could see more Feasters approaching her from her most vulnerable angle. It wasn’t every day that he helped someone out, but since the girl had the balls to try and fight the Feasters alone he thought she must be worth something. He took his bow from around his shoulder, fishing a couple of bloodied arrows from a makeshift quiver he’d made from an old bag, and aimed at the heads of two Feasters closest to the girl’s back.
That would stun them enough for him to go in for the kill.

(I am so sorry I put this off for so long)

((you absolutely do not need to apologize i've been putting off rps for longer than this. i. i totally get it))

The thunk of arrows into the heads of Feasters behind her was a sound Nesryn hadn't heard often enough to recognize immediately. No, she only computed the information after slamming the crowbar into a Feaster lunging at her. What the absolute hell? Spinning on her heels, she cast her gaze about the surrounding area. There, a boy with, of all things, a bow and quiver full of arrows.

She didn't have much time to focus on that though, returning to the fight against the luckily, slowly, dwindling horde. There was a savage sort of grin on her face, now that she had been given a step up onto equal footing. Savage, but strangely alluring. Paired with the fading pink in her blonde hair, the Rolling Stones t-shirt and leather jacket tied around her waist, and the crooked crowbar in her hands, she was something. What, was harder to discern.

"Do people really still use those in combat? The world ends and everyone reverts to old weapons, huh." Nesryn called out, tone teasing but light, despite the carnage she was causing.

When the girl caught onto the fact that Feasters were close to her, Tomas made his move, attacking the stray few that decided to move towards the sounds in the area. He slung his bow back around his shoulder and took a survival knife from the pocket of his hoodie; a knife he had stolen from someone in the bunker.

"Well I don't know about everyone, but I do." Tomas huffed, slashing a Feaster in the back of the legs. As it fell down, he stomped on its neck viciously until he heard the bones break. "What kind of person uses a crowbar, of all things, to kill Feasters?"

"Someone who didn't have time to draw and load a gun, obviously." Nesryn fired back, making a face at the implied insult in her helper's statement. "I was surprised by them. I wasn't about to-Bullet I swear to god get out of the way-let them get more of a jump on me."

They were down to maybe five Feasters, and her dog kept darting inbetween them. She loved him, she really did, but he just kept getting in the way. And now was a really bad time for that.

The crowbar now had a Feaster's hand clinging to it, despite the fact that it's owner had been taken out. Nesryn remembered seeing something like that happen in a movie once. In the movie, the protagonist had tossed the crowbar as soon as that had happened and begun using his fists. She wasn't stupid. Another large crack brought down one of the last few Feasters, just as a set of jagged nails caught on her shoulder. "Mother fuck-"

Tomas rolled his eyes when the girl gave his excuse, turning back to the Feasters. He himself almost tripped over the dog as he attracted two Feasters towards him. Damn dog, he's going to get me killed! He used his foot to scoot the dog away from him, jumping slightly when he looked back up to find a Feaster right in his face. Knife in hand, he slit its throat and shoved it back into its friend. Great, more blood on his face and jeans, just what he wanted!

The two Feasters weren't dead, but he managed to get away from them long enough grab a fallen roof slab from one of the many surrounding buildings. He wasn't strong, not by any means, so by the time he'd lifted the slab he could only throw it and hope it hit one of the Feasters in the head. That's when he saw, from the corner of his eye, the Feaster who had caught the girl's shoulder. Did it scratch her?
"Please tell me it didn't break the SKIN!!!!" The last word came out as a shout as he tripped backwards over the corpse of the Feaster he's killed not too long ago.

Nesryn couldn't even focus on the pain in her shoulder as she let out a laugh at the boy falling over the Feaster, taking out the one who'd attacked her with her crowbar. It was a strangely musical sound, rich and soft enough to not attract more unwanted attention. Could she really be blamed for laughing, though? They really could use some more light hearted moments in times like these.

Making her way over, she held out a hand to help him up, ignoring the torn cloth on her shoulder. "The infection comes from bacteria near their mouth." She said, hauling him to his feet and pointing to healing scratch marks on her arms. "I think it's got something to do with their saliva and the bacteria in human blood, but I'm no scientist. Don't worry your pretty little head about it though."

Was she laughing at him? Part of Tomas wanted to get annoyed at her for laughing, falling over a dead body wasn't a laughing matter! But nowadays it was rare to find something to be even remotely joyous about, so he'd give her this one.

With an exasperated sigh, he used the girl's strong grip to pull himself up, dusting himself off as he nodded his head in a sort of thanks. "Oh I'm not worried, just was making sure you didn't have any injuries you'd need patching up." He didn't know about her, but he didn't exactly have an endless supply of health packages to be dealing them out to all the wounded people he found. He scoured the area, retrieving his used arrows, and slotted them back into his quiver while wiping his knife on his jeans. "Well, take care. I gotta head off now."
Tomas never stuck around for long, especially with people he didn't know. He tucked his hands into his hoodie pocket and started walking away from the girl, but not before throwing a comment over his shoulder while looking at the dog. "He's going to get you killed."

"Better to die with a companion than live alone forever." She called back, kneeling to scratch behind Bullet's ears. The boy wasn't wrong, but still. He almost reminded her of someone she used to know, a close…friend from years ago. They had the same no-nonsense attitudes. Tomas had even been learning archery, too, when she was forced to leave. If any of them would have survived an apocalypse like this, she would have put her money on him.

Nesryn wouldn't admit to her hope, but there was a part of her that did. A part that wondered if he'd made it to the same shelter she was headed to find.

"Hey, wait. Real quick. Do you know which road leads towards the center of the city? I got turned around a while back, but I…need to get to the Plaza." The Plaza was an area in the middle of Montaria, only called that by locals or people who had lived there. Everyone else called it the Square, because it's actual name was Montaria Square. A shopping district, essentially.

Plaza.. The name rang a bell, wasn't that the place rumored to have a secure shelter? He'd heard some of the guys from his old bunker talking about it when they planned to leave the girls behind, but Tomas hadn't paid too much attention. He never did pay attention to another person's plans because in one way or another someone was going to be left behind.

"I think the road you're looking for is about a mile that way." Tomas pointed in the opposite direction to where he was originally walking. "If you carry on in that direction you should come straight across it." If she was going to ask him to join her she could think again, he stuck by his rules no matter what and he wasn't about to change that for some girl he didn't even know.

Nesryn followed his finger, brows furrowed in a habit she'd had since she was a little kid. Scratching the fur of Bullet's neck, she lifted the corner of her mouth slightly in a half smile. "Ready to see if we can find him?"

After a moment, she turned back to Tomas, digging through her pockets. "I don't have much to offer as thanks. I don't normally offer anything, either way. But you may have just helped me find someone important to me. So here." She withdrew a pack of cigarettes from her pocket, tossing them to him. "Currency just straight up adopted a prison-esque vibe, and cigarettes have always been gold. Found those in a busted car a while back. You know, in case you find yourself in a pinch and unable to scavenge."

Tomas caught the cigarettes that were thrown to him, nodding in thanks. He stuffed them into his hoodie pocket and waved two fingers as he walked away from the girl. "See ya around some time." Of course, he doubted they ever would cross paths again. There was someone Tomas needed to see, and the last place he would find her was in some shelter in the middle of town.

The first few steps of his walk was interrupted, with only the echoing of groans resounding from several buildings, but he hadn't even gotten half a mile away from Nesryn before a Feaster realised he was there and called for the rest of his buddies.
"Oh go away." Tomas snarled, pulling out his knife, preparing to engage in a fight. His eyes flickered in different directions, counting the number of Feasters approaching. Too many to guarantee 100% survival. Now wasn't the time to risk it, but they were blocking his way.
Damn it! Tomas clutched his bag strap, turning on his heels to run back in the direction of the girl.

He found her not too far from where he had left her, not stopping to rest until he was a couple steps ahead of her. He took a moment to regain his breath, not even looking at Nesryn as he pointed in the direction he had just come from. "That was a no go. Too many. Guess I'm headed this way until I can find another way around."