I'll come back tomorrow then, to RP. If accepted, please just say i'm with you and listening so I may be involved. I'll be back in about 18 hours. ;D
Name; Bleuregard Sweeney . Age; Records of the Vault are a bit shaky on this part, he wouldn't reveal much. Anywhere from 25 to 30, in his prime ages. (Screw it, I'm not deciding on a real number, too many to pick from, too many advantages and disadvantages.) Race; Draken, a strain of tropical amphibian and human genes. Personality; Shady, but open about his personal identity and past. He's not afraid to be kind, even if being treated like dirt. He's got a feisty temper if provoked, and will defend most to the very last handful of life. The Draken male fears almost nothing. Skills; Amazing at pointing out the obvious, and is an avid follower of animals. He even collects the bitty insects that can survive the underground, spiders and hardy hardshells, keeping and caring for them until he can properly release them. Bio; Of course, Bleuregard, often called Bleu, was made in a generic, state of the art laboratory stationed in the underground containment center for the sake of keeping watch and protecting the denizens from escaping. As most stories go, he wasn't too fond of his humid, cramped cage. So he did what he wanted and raged his way out of it, bashing everything he could. Not seeing the consequences, his cell was filled with a little bit too much warmth from the wall heater, and passed out respectably, even though his tropical gene naturally withstood heat.
Bleu was off the charts for a good amount of time, being "shaped" into the new him in a personal containment purifier, which simply means he was drugged out of his mind, and was subject to many hypnotic treatments. A natural resistance developed after the horrid experimental treatment, the hypnotic grip loosened. Assuming control of the situation, the Draken played the good little boy and went with it, acting as if he was phased, tossing out his pills secretly, and came out with flying colors when tested on manners and civility.
Released into the community, he assumed a position as a companion trader of sorts, selling, or trading, the odd insect or two, or even the more exotic Cavescreech. The common bat-like creature was found easily floating overhead in the courtyard, and all he had to do was hoard it into a bucket, sealing it. Making a fine amount of wealth and items in his trades, he grew to be a respected authority in the inmates. Sadly, all fairy tales come to and end. The wardens cracked his secret business, left with nothing but, his possessions he had already traded. This is where he is left off, cracked and broken over his business. Appearance; Standing over 8 feet, the Draken has a toughened body. His scales withstand a massive beating, and his feet are at an elevated angle. He walks on the pads of his feet, his knees going at an upward slant naturally. A slouch occurs as well, and Bleu has a bit of trouble walking from all of his awkward features. His scales are a deep blue, but his stomach and outer knees have no protection, leaving a light shade of beige. He wears a robe of sorts, terribly monumental, jet black. A pattern is set inside of it, a simple circle of blue, for decoration. Equipment; A wooden walking stick, 3 inches thick. The Draken carries his robe over himself, with a cricket in a petite cell within his pack, a simple leather bag stitched into his robe's back. He carries a few food items as well, stored away.
Name: Nathaniel "Nathan" Clarke
Age: 28 (human years)
Personality: Nathan has a incredibly situational demeanor, though it is chiefly dictated by temperature, warmer air forming positive emotions, and colder air, as is common on the lower-slums where he grew up, foster negative emotions.
Skills: Despite little experience with the outside world, Nathan is an expert survivalist. He knows how to catch, skin, and otherwise prepare, as well as cook different wild creatures. He also knows first aid, and is able to craft tools and weapons, given raw materials.
Bio: Nathan spent his life as a street urchin in the lower levels of the vault, feeding off of vermin he'd learned to cook and prepare himself. He has very few memories of his parents, if he even had any, and despises humans for their "normality". However, he also despises other "mutants", and tries to imitate humans in his appearance, attempting to conceal his skin and talons, except for his head, which would be impossible. He has gained a second-hand education from the other urchins and slum-dwellers of the vault, or at-least those who didn't cower at his appearance. He currently spends his time crawling through the Vault's air ducts in the upper-level, near the boiler-room, where it is warmest.
Appearance: Nathan's appearance is a near-perfect synergy of human and reptile. He maintains human posture and basic shape, but only has four digits on each limb, each tipped with short, but sharp talons, and a short, slightly curled tail. His skin is a smooth grass green, akin to that of a worm, but dry. His most prominent and non-human feature is his face, which includes fin-like crests on each side of his forehead, solid blue eyes, and a long snout, with nose-holes resting on the very front of it.Clothing-wise, he wears a dark beige trench coat over a brown long-sleeved shirt, along with leather greaves, leather bracers, a multi-pouched utility belt, and black leather shoes.
Equipment:Nathan carries around various odds and ends, ranging from bits of machinery to glass ornaments, in his many pockets, as well as a self-made machete, and an old Swiss army knife, which he uses as a lock-pick, among other things.
EDIT: Oh come on, the guy above me ...did...such a similar thing.... I am the unluckiest man alive...
[Have very little time lately, as I stated earlier. Will read everything else tomorrow, but I am no okay with the drunkard all the time. Being drunk on occasion, fine. Drunk boxing being part of your character and not a random incident, is not acceptable.]
(( PieWizard, you need to think over how you're going to get all the characters involved with your character's organization, because I'm not buying what you're going with right now. Sure, chances are everyone has been living inside the bunker/vault for a long time, some their wholes lives, but that doesn't explain how you know them and how they're supposed to know you, inculding where you live. If you're part of a group trying to escape, chances are it's very secretive, so it simply doesn't make any sense. Instead you should explain how you got their information. That would explain how you know their names atleast. Another thing is, you contact them through an intercome? If these bunkers are really well guarded, chances are they monitor every type of communication. It makes more sense for you to send a messenger with a letter explaining evething including where the meeting is. No one has replied to to the intercome thing so there's still time to edit it for the sake of making sense.))
((FireFlower,you are accepted. @HugTheZombies, I am just going to restart and act normal. We will meet naturally.))
Jonah woke up early in the morning. The only thing that told him that is was morning was the clock that sat next to his bed. There were no windows in the bunker. The only thing that was lighting the place was florescent light bulbs. Jonah got up off his bed,changed and walked over to the cafeteria. "Ding,Dong," the tone went of indicating that the intercom was about to play to the whole bunker. "Hello.everyone must be in the cafeteria in twenty minutes," the watcher said over the intercom. Jonah sighed. He hated the watchers dumb rules. Someday he would leave and escape to the clean and beautiful world. It was only thing that kept him sane. When he got to the cafeteria they gave him the normal pork n' beans,and he sat down at the table. He started eating his food,glumly.
((By the way,my character doesn't know that the world is in an apocalypse.))
Scott heard the intercom and Jonah telling him to come to his room but he was busy reading. He licked his thumb and turned the page, not even bothering to respond. He may show up, he may not. It depended how he felt. Soon another intercom called for everyone to be in the kitchen in 20 minutes. He hated the Watchers voices and commands. He patted the knife in his pocket. Maybe he would use it again one day he thought. After 23 minutes or so he closed his book and put it in his ruck sack and decided he would head over to the cafeteria. He arrived late, and the watchers gave him a glare as they prepared to do whatever they were going to do. He returned it with more intensity and sat down beside Jonah, he was not hungry anyway. "So what did you interrupt me for this morning anyway?" he asked.
I took a bite of my Pork N' Beans. I cringed at the taste it had. It was rotten. I've got to get out of here. But how?I thought to myself. Two people sat down next to me,Scott,but the other I didn't recognize. Scott said something to me and I said,"I have to talk to you," I said and looked at the other guy,"In private."
((Also, It seems that we're not going with 1st person, more 3rd, but anyways......RP TIME!))
Nathan awoke to the gentle hum of the air ducts and warmth of the boiler. He enjoyed the warmth of the boiler room, but he could not simply laze around all day. He had to at least find a rodent to skin and cook. But then again, he had gotten quite high through the duct system, he could probably crawl into the vents above the upper level mess hall and steal a bite of real food to eat.
He decided to go for it. After several minutes of worming through the long, winding duct system, he smelled the sweet, yet odd, scent of the mess's signature food, and by "signature", he meant "severed almost every day." It was food though...and perhaps less bother than killing a giant rat, or catching several smaller ones.
A few minutes later he walked out of the kitchen and into the cafeteria room holding a warm can of foodstuffs. He simply cut it open with his talons and stood against a wall in the shadows, as to not get caught as easily by the kitchen staff. He was about take his first bite when he heard someone at the table adjacent to him. He walked over to the table, careful to remain in the shadows.