[CS] Fallout: Minnesota

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Bigfoun
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[CS] Fallout: Minnesota

Post by Bigfoun » Wed Feb 21, 2018 4:46 am

This will be the CS thread for the RP.


CS:

Name:

Age:

Species: (Ghoul/Human)

Faction: (Neutral or one of the factions listed above except ENCLAVE)

Bio or a Sample Post: (5 Sentences at least)

Weaponry: (One Primary and one secondary. No overpowered or legendary weapons.)

Equipment: (Three at the max.)

Appearance:
That yin is gonna yang

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TehMagicPudding
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Posts: 791
Joined: Fri Dec 01, 2017 6:08 am
Location: United States
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Re: [CS] Fallout: Minnesota

Post by TehMagicPudding » Thu Feb 22, 2018 4:53 am

Name: Irvin Snowbound

Age: 80

Species: Ghoul

Faction: Vikings Exile

Bio: Irvin was born Karl Persson, born to a small, unnoticed bloodline within the Vikings. He grew up to be the honor guard to one of the Vikings' great generals, sworn to his protection and glory. This all changed when his Lord was assassinated by a Monarchy assassin dressed in black and purple, and Karl was framed for his death.
Shamed and hunted by both his shield brothers and his own kin, the man fled into the frozen wastes to the north, intent on dying in battle with the Ice Ghouls. The radiation and weather withered his body, turning him into a ghoul. He was found, nearly frozen to death by a small nomad clan consisting of Viking and Monarchy exiles. They nursed him back into fighting shape, and gave him new purpose in helping defend their non-combatants. With this new life came a new name, Irvin Snowbound.
After decades living with these nomads, he lost everything again to a Monarchy force dressed in black and purple. They killed the night watch and drew in a horde of Ice Ghouls, who slaughtered almost the entire tribe. The few survivors were scattered to the winds, disappearing into the blizzards. Irvin swore to find the Monarchy soldiers responsible for his misfortune. Wearing the colors of his lost tribe to honor their memory, Irvin traveled South. He knew from his youth that the settlement called Candyland was his best starting point, as many people there made their living selling and trading information.

There were many things Irvin expected when he rose from his sleeping bag this morning. He expected his adopted son to be up earlier than he was, excited to get his first hunting lesson out in the forests near their camp. He expected his wife to be fussing over the two of them the entire morning. He expected his son to need reminding to be quiet, lest they draw in an Ice Ghoul. Until dusk came, he had not been disappointed, which left him satisfied.
Irvin was kneeling down next to a radstag buck with a bullet wound through one of its heads, showing his son how to harvest the hide and meats. It was nearing nighttime, and the sky visible between the trees was pink.
"You need to be careful and precise. The meat and blood is radioactive, and it'll burn your fingers if you don't watch your knife." Irvin's gravelly voice was muffled by the knit mask he was wearing. Snowflakes landed on his goggles and melted as he continued harvesting the ribs, going through the technique step by step. Just as he finished carving the meat, Irvin looked up at his son as he dramatically swung his knife and made clashing noises with his mouth. "Elijah, what are you doing son?" Irvin chuckled.
"I'm a brave hunter fighting Ice Ghouls!" The child exclaimed proudly. He took a step back, flourishing his knife like a swashbuckler from the pre-war comic books. Behind Elijah, a mound of snow began to shift and rise silently. A scrawny, blue skinned creature with gnarled, blackened limbs and withered flesh emerged from the snow. It began shuffling towards the child.
Instinct kicked in as Irvin lunged forward, drawing a straight, double-edged sword from his hip. He put himself in between Elijah and the Ice Ghoul. The creature crouched down to begin a lunge, but Irvin was faster. He dashed forward, grabbing the monster by the neck before it could react. The hunter lifted it up one handed and slammed it onto its back. The Ice Ghoul snarled through rotten teeth behind black-green necrotic lips, grasping at Irvin's leg with its decaying fingers. Irvin stomped on its chest and brought his sword thrusting down into its skull. The creature gurgled, spasmed, and died, blood spilling out into the snow. Irvin's eyes darted about, searching for more Ice Ghouls. To his relief, there were none.
"Elijah, go home. I'll be along shortly."
"But Papa!"
"Go."
With a huff, the boy put his knife away and began walking through the forest, following the tracks he and his father had made on their hunt. Irvin finished harvesting the meat, which room until night fell. It was an abnormally large buck with minimal wounds, and the tribe was struggling for food this year. He didn't want to waste any meat. As he stood up, Irvin heard a whooshing sound before a loud bang echoed through the forest and the sky lit up green. In the distance, he could see a figure dressed in leather with metal plates. Half of their coat was black and the other half was purple. The sight made Irvin's blood boil, but before he could act, a cacophony of growls reached his ears as Ice Ghouls rose from beneath the snow. Dozens of Ice Ghouls began stumbling around, looking for the source of the sound that had aroused them. Irvin turned to run back to his tribe. In the distance, he could see the figure hold up a megaphone and start running towards the tribe as well.
Irving ran as fast as he could, barreling over and cutting down every Ice Ghoul in his way. By the time he made it back to his people, the horde had beaten him there. Ice Ghouls swarmed the encampment, tearing man, women, and children apart. Of those who escaped being ripped limb from limb wandered off into the woods, deep claw marks pouring blood into the snow.
"Cassandra! Elijah!" Irvin called out into the chaos, praying for a response over the screams of agony and terror. No response came. Grabbing a circular wooden shield from the corpse of one of the tribe's warriors, Irvin ran into the encampment. He fought with desperate fury, making his way towards his tent. It was covered in blood. His heart ran cold with terror. Irvin opened the tent flap, and nearly vomited at the sight inside. He took a few shaky steps back, before running towards the edge of the camp. The screams began to die down and some of the Ice Ghouls started off towards the woods, having lost interest with the encampment.
Irvin ran; he ran until his legs gave out. He fell into the snow, passing out from exhaustion. By the time he came to, it was day. Snow had almost completely buried Irvin, and the chill began to creep into Irvin's bones.
Irvin rose to his feet, emerging from the snow like the beasts that had tormented his dreams. He walked back to the camp. The once green and yellow tents were red, as was the snow below his feet. Bodies and gore was everywhere. In the center, a single figure poked through the tents. This person was clad in metal plate, painted black and purple. In his hand was a two handed sword, stained with blood. With boiling blood, Irvin quietly walked up behind him and smashed the knight over the head with his shield, cracking the wood. The knight fell to the ground and Irvin fell upon him, stabbing his sword into the gaps of his armor. Pleas for mercy fell upon deaf ears as the hunter savaged one of the people responsible for the destruction of everything Irvin held dear. The knight's pleas broke down into sobbing, which became gurgling. Standing above the dead knight, Irvin's anguish and rage turned to resolve. He was going to find those responsible for this atrocity, and he knew exactly where to start. After burning the camp to the ground, Irvin started south, towards the settlement called Candyland.


Weaponry: Viking sword, scoped hunting rifle.

Equipment: Viking armor (Painted green and yellow), heavy winter clothes, repair kit.

Appearance: For a ghoul, Irvin is respectably muscular, if a bit short. Being a relatively recent ghoul, his decay is not too far along, resembling an ice mummy rather than a horror flick zombie. He wears white winter clothes, over which he wears Viking armor pads that have had all clan markings scratched off and have been painted green and yellow.
Science can't disprove the existence of ninjas, only their direct presence.

Carsonomel
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Location: Ohio, USA
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Re: [CS] Fallout: Minnesota

Post by Carsonomel » Fri Mar 02, 2018 12:24 am

CS:

Name: Carsonomel

Age: 25

Species: Human

Faction: Neutral

Bio or a Sample Post: Carsonomel comes from a long line of Nomads. He is the last left alive in his family. He wanders the wastelands, gathering supplies and constantly moving. His belief, which was the belief of his father, and his grandfather before him, is that he is better off surviving alone. That other people will betray him. He believes that that is the reason his family is gone.

Weaponry: He carries only one katana, with the hilt designed like a dragon, it has been passed down in his family for generations, and also a small knife he mostly uses for shaving.

Equipment: He has no armoring equipment.

Appearance: He wears a long black coat, a black hooded sweatshirt underneath it. He wears long baggy cargo pants and a pair of steel toed combat boots. His eyes are a bright blue, and his hair is short, and mostly disheveled. He keeps his face clean of facial hair, he is thin, but strong.

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