| |
Lightbringer
|
The year was 1937. In the height of the Great Depression, instead of starting the war in the 40s, Europe has been locked in war for ages. Unfortunately for the rest of everyone else, the Soviet Union decided to use nuclear weapons. But not the exploding type, a different type of thing. It technically exploded, yes, but it didn't make the explosion that they were hoping for. It simply eradicated some and left others. Those who were left gained strange things. Some had powers, some gained extra extremities. Some got both. And some just died. As it goes. After that went down, they decided to then throw actual bombs until nobody was left to throw them around the world. Infrastructure? Ruined. Buildings? Good luck. That brings us to 1943. Unfortunately there is a group of people that were affected and lived through the rest of everything else. Probably because they were used to it. The Mafia and the resulting police force who had been on the task of getting rid of the mafia. Only... now they've got to work together to survive and rebuild society. But can they actually work together or is it all going to just end up in ruins? --- Roleplay will start a week or so after they agreed to work together to rebuild life as it is. Just remember to put at least 200 words in your post! Location-wise, the rp will be in Virginia! Town-wise I don't know... it's all been destroyed at this point so somewhere in Virginia, lol.
---
Sign-Ups: https://wolfplaygame.com/forums.php?f=28&t=93649
Discussion: https://wolfplaygame.com/forums.php?f=36&t=93650 |
|
|
| |
Lightbringer
|
Character Roster: Finntello Terrence / 24 / Male / Cop / 85543
-
Blake Borrelli / 26 / Male / Cop / 272291
-
Nicholas Accardi / 46 / Male / Mafia / 85543
-
Verrück Achen / 23 / Male / Mafia / 318301
-
Seren Evans / 25 / Female / Cop / 185486
-
Nina Krakowiac | 22 | Female | Mafia | 312640
-
Valencia Strix / 29 / Female / Cop / 315026
-
Caspian Cadogan / 28 / Male / Mafia / 315026
-
Mylo Drakovar /28 / Male / Mafia / 220404 |
|
|
| |
Lightbringer
|
Finntello Terrence / 24 / Male / Cop / M: Open The morning sun rose in the distant horizon. A garish orange sunrise in a loose sky. The sunrise that shone down over the rubble and ruins of what once was a town and city was uncaring. The heat bore down on a weary world below but the edge was carried off by a loose and cooler breeze that blew through the trees and the struggling trees. The faint buds and the likes were struggling to return after the cold winter. From within the most rudimentary hut--made mostly from old tins of roofs and the likes--Finntello poked his head out. The sky above was clear and held no sign of rain. Sometimes, rain was... good and sometimes it was boiling hot. It was anyone's guess. The young man stepped out fully, his wings fluffing outward. It was time to try and rebuild the city again and ... work with those people. Some of them weren't so bad but some of them... well, they weren't as bad. Some of them listened. He enjoyed planes and cars and talking. Sometimes, he could accomplish all three at once. Talking about planes and cars. The young man wandered into the midst of the town and paused, waiting to see what to work on first. Nicholas Accardi / 46 / Male / Mafia / M: Finn (ind.), Open On the other side of the street, tucked under the shade of an awning, another winged man watched the hustle and bustle. His icy blue eyes pierced through the shadows, a cane at his side as he rocked back and forth in the wooden chair he sat in. It was "old person" activities as that mouthy young man would loudly state. Of course, he made sure that he was out of cane-range when he said it. Nicholas had lost count of how many times he had given that young feathered menace a whooping with the cane. He had taken to hiding behind a burly blond former cop now. Nicholas was too tired to chase him anyways. The young man eyed him for a long moment before chasing after a small group of others to start the day. Nicholas sighed and settled back in the chair. He had modified it to fit his wings comfortably as he leaned back and forth, enjoying the cool of the morning for as long as he physically could. |
|
|
| |
Neutral
|
Nina Krakowiac - F - 22 - Mafia - Mention(s): // ~ One week in, and Nina still couldn't believe that they were doing this. Like, she'd do it. She totally would. Considering what she'd been told. Still, though, that didn't mean she had to like it. Or enjoy having to rebuild with the people that she had, one week ago, been trying to eradicate. Leaning against a wall, in the shade, she quietly observed... people. Something that she'd begun doing recently - just watching. She'd have to get up and do productive work eventually, though? She'd said she'd help in this "effort" - but what was the point of building it up when they could just as easily just knock it straight back down again? Whatever. She'd do it. Listen. Stay silent and observe. Do the work that she'd been given, no matter how reluctantly. So here she was. Sitting against a broken wall in the shade, not exactly doing much but observing the world. Would it be pointless to go talk to the people who were slowly making their way around? Yes, it most definitely would be pointless. But she couldn't stay sitting against this wall forever. Even if she wanted to, it would be boring as hell. Unlike one week ago, there now no longer was any use doing what she was doing now. So she stood up, knees briefly popping as she looked around. |
|  |
|
| |
Neutral
|
Verrück Aachen | M | 23 | Mafia | M: Finntello Terrence (ind.) ~ Verrück yawned, stretching his arms above his head as he swung his legs back and forth, perched atop a cell tower that jutted precariously into the sky. The structure had seen better days—most of it was blasted away, leaving a jagged skeleton of twisted metal and exposed cables. The wind howled through the gaps, creating a mournful, almost melodic whistle as it tugged at Verrück’s coat. The torn sleeve flapped like a battle-worn flag, a testament to the chaos that had shaped this world. But the danger? That was what made it exhilarating. Every creak of the unstable metal beneath him, every gust of wind threatening to unbalance him, sent a delightful shiver up his spine. - He tilted his head lazily, one hand gripping a bent beam for support while the other toyed with a fragment of a bomb—his favorite souvenir from the last explosion he’d orchestrated. The shard was jagged and cold, stained with soot, and it reflected the dim, ash-filled light of the overcast sky. His eyes, sharp and calculating despite the bored expression on his face, scanned the scene below. The world stretched out beneath him, a panorama of destruction and despair. Buildings crumbled like sandcastles, vehicles lay abandoned or overturned, and people scrambled like panicked ants, frantically trying to piece together the remains of their shattered lives. - “Funny, isn’t it?” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the wind. He wasn’t speaking to anyone in particular—just the void, or maybe to the ghosts of the city that had once been. “How quickly it all falls apart.” - He leaned forward, letting the precarious balance of the cell tower shift beneath him. The metal groaned in protest, a warning that it might not hold much longer, but Verrück didn’t care. If anything, the instability only made the moment more thrilling. Below him, the scurrying figures continued their futile attempts to rebuild order from chaos. Their efforts were pathetic, laughable even, and the faint, crooked smile on his lips reflected his disdain. It was a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, which gleamed with an unsettling mix of amusement and indifference. - The tower let out another metallic groan, and Verrück shifted his weight, leaning back just enough to keep the structure from collapsing entirely. He held the bomb fragment over the edge, rolling it between his fingers as if deciding its fate. After a moment, he let it slip from his grasp. The shard tumbled through the air, spinning end over end before a controlled detonation lit up the sky. The explosion was small, more of a firework than a proper bomb, but it sent a gust of hot, ash-scented wind rushing upward. Verrück inhaled deeply, savoring the acrid smell. It reminded him of better days—days filled with fire, destruction, and the satisfying sound of things breaking apart. - For a while, he simply sat there, dangling his legs and watching the chaos below with detached boredom. The people rebuilding the ruins of their lives annoyed him. He hated their insistence on "moving forward," their desperate clinging to concepts like order and stability. It was all so tiresome. No one to kill, no drinks to poison, nothing left to blow up. The rules they’d put in place—those stupid, restrictive rules about “rebuilding the world”—were the worst. Why should he care about rebuilding anything? If anything, he missed the days when there was something worth destroying. - With a resigned sigh, Verrück pushed himself off the edge of the tower. Gravity pulled him downward, and the wind whipped past his face, tugging at his coat and hair. He landed on the vines that had surged up to catch him with practiced ease, barely making a sound. The ground was a mess of debris, ash, and scattered remnants of the city’s former glory. He pulled a dagger from his belt as he walked, the blade glinting faintly in the dim light. He twirled it absently around his fingers, more out of habit than anything else. - As he wandered through the ruins, his sharp eyes caught a flash of bright red—wings. Of course. That insufferable, self-righteous cop was here. Verrück’s lip curled in disdain. He had no love for cops, especially not the ones who clung to outdated ideals like law and order. Their constant preaching about restoring humanity and rebuilding society grated on his nerves. It was all such meaningless drivel to him. - He sauntered over to a half-sunken car, its frame warped and sinking into the ground thanks to liquefaction. The vehicle was a shadow of its former self, but it made for a decent seat. Verrück perched on the trunk, crossing his legs and propping an elbow on his knee as he watched the busy figures nearby. They were so absorbed in their work, so desperate to create something out of the rubble, that they barely noticed him. That suited him just fine. He waited, his crooked smile returning as he twirled the dagger idly. - Sooner or later, someone would notice him. Someone always did. And when they came to yell at him for “doing nothing,” for being a useless bystander in their grand mission to rebuild the world, well… that would be when the real fun began. |
|
|
| |
Neutral
|
Seren Evans | F | 25 | Cop | Mentions: Verrück (ind.) Seren rose with the sun, wincing as the light danced through the rubble, flaring beams into her face with rigor. It was another blistering day, the particles in the air heating the sun to a near unbearable temperature. The sky was clear today, which was nice, but the echoing wind droned in her ears maliciously, drowning her thoughts in the torrent of noise. She rose slowly, savoring they way her shelter offered slight solace, a reprise from the chaotic world outside. Foes had banded together quickly - not kindly, for certain, since they didn't seem capable of going an hour without a fight, but quickly, finding strength in the depleted numbers. She could hear them now, the slight scuffle of shoes, the whispering of clothes as they got to work. Rebuilding, they called it. There was nothing to rebuild. The world was torn, shredded to pieces from the detonation. Buildings were now husks, dangerous mazes of metal shrapnel and collapsing walls. Despite this, they continued to try, to form a semblance of community in the foreign world. "...How quickly it all falls apart." The words were quiet, nearly snatched away by the wind. A week ago, she wouldn't have been able to hear them, wouldn't have known someone was speaking from above her. Now, though... Now, she could hear it all. The conversations she didn't want, the words she wished to forget. The solitary mafia member, perched above, was her daily reminder that the world had changed, that she had changed, and she wasn't sure it was for the better. The sound of the bomb detonating caused her to flinch, hands flying to her ears as she dropped into a low crouch. It hadn't been near her, she knew - the man responsible was always careful, providing just enough space to prevent those below from injuring themselves. It didn't make the sound any quieter, though. She sighed, the sound muted in her ears as the howling wind picked up speed. Staring across the way, Seren debated returning to her shelter for the rest of the morning. The others were awake - they would be fine without her. She didn't provide much help anyways, too distracted by the sounds, the collapse of another building a mile away, the whispering conversation of the gathered survivors. Instead, she got to work, picking up bits of rubble from the path they had created. |
|  |
|
| |
Neutral
|
Blake Borrelli | M | 26 | Cop | M: Nicholas, Seren The shadow cast over the city was devastating. This had been home. This had been his sanctuary. Crumbled up as if it were nothing more than a wad of paper. It took years to build, and one minute to fall. It was their Rome; their crestfallen empire. Friends and family buried under the rubble, lost too soon, and long forgotten. Soot covered everything, unlike the once clean streets that Blake had grown up on. The echoes of life that once brought the city alive were nothing more than a broken record in his head, the sound warped from how long he'd been deprived of the joy. Smoke still reached up for the sky from the view that Borrelli had. He sat in a tower from a destroyed church. The round window that'd been blown out was ideal for watching the city below. Glass shards were scattered around him, just as broken as the city. It was funny, he had never even been inside the church before recently. His back was against the cold stone, one leg dangling down off the edge. His once sandy blonde hair was streaked with dirt, his beach boy tan now adorned by more scars than there had been at start with. His trusted canine laid not too far off, panting from the small streaks of sunlight breaking through the horizon. Blake chuckled as he watched the Fawn dog. “So sensitive, aren't you Law?” The dog lifted his head and wagged his tail, engaging with his man. The blonde went back to watching out for signs of life below. This was life… but this wasn't living. It was shocking at how fast everything changed. Would he ever adjust to this new life? Would it be better simply to have been caught in the rubble and to remember Earth as it was, or was this the better end of the deal? Blake couldn't tell you, but he sure knew his opinion on it. At the signs of movement, the man stood up. The dog jumped up as well, alert, eyes glued on the man, waiting for any sort of commands. His jaw clenched, another day to mix with his sworn enemies. They didn't believe in the law, but they wouldn't even be so influential if there weren't laws in place. He wanted nothing more than to stay where he was and sleep the day away, but that was a bad idea considering how frugal Nicholas was. He sat in the shade while everyone else did the work. The dirty work. It was almost as dirty as the rings he'd run. This day was going to be as horrible as the last one, and the one before that, and so forth. The world had been broken before, but this was far from broken, this was destroyed. Heartbreaking last cries for help hadn't been anyone's guess of the city's ending. His footsteps were the only noise that accompanied him as the strode to the makeshift ladder he'd made to climb down to the first floor from his newfound oasis. “Sit.” He said, his tone demanding. The dog obeyed and the cop climbed down. The sound of his feet hitting the ground bounced off the destruction around him. Blake paused, trying to figure out what it was he was hearing. Just another building crumbling in their midst. “Come.” He called up. Not even five seconds later Outlaws face peered down at him. Blake held his arms out. “Come on.” He said gruffly. “I don't have all day.” He called up. With his dog's weight in his arms, Blake started walking towards the exit. Outlaw was quiet, and still while the man carried him. The first night in the church he'd gotten glass in a paw, and Blake wouldn't take any chances with his best friend. Blake's combat boots hit the pavement outside and the dog's feet hit it as well. The reserved man hadn't told anyone about his spot, and therefore, he had no need to clean in front of it. With a small gesture of his hand, the dog and man started off through the rubble towards the others. Blake stopped, glaring at Nicholas sitting in his chair. Of course he was. That man had been acting as if there was a tomorrow. Blake had pushed back against the removal of the mess, saying that in combat, they'd be able to use it to their advantage. No one else had agreed with him. He looked around, seeing Seren Evans hard at work. She'd always worked hard, and he admired that about her. She had a great work ethic… It unfortunately couldn't be said about everyone in the group. (Que the side eye towards Nicholas). He motioned for his dog into the downward position in a shady spot, and he himself started to pick up small pieces of rubble with his calloused hands. |
|  |
|
Summer 
Day 
Light Rain
