TAKE IT BACK // JOINER

[J. HOLLOWAY]

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Despite his attitude, Praxis wasn't the only one in the world who had lost a family. This world was a cruel one, and shortly after the blackout had finally hit his family's part of the city, he had watched his own die in an alley. The memories were fuzzy, both of them and that very moment. Once, Bruce had told him in that blunt "I don't wanna talk about it" tone of voice that he didn't remember because his mind was trying to protect him, and that it was normal. But when he'd asked why he remembered it so well, he'd stopped talking about it entirely. Sometimes he had been able to plead well enough that his brother would divulge a few details, but for the most part he'd had to rely on the photo album. It was all he had, now, aside from his mother's wedding ring. His mother had been beautiful, with curly auburn hair that fell in loose curls. His father looked like Bruce, but with a mustache and less scars. It was strange, realizing that the shape of his eyes was similar to his mother's, and that he has her eyelashes. There are pictures of his parents dancing, and the last ones, the ones right before everything got screwed up...

They have pictures of two little boys, the younger smeared in cake and the older looking sheepish, the older one dancing between his parents, the younger being held — he doesn't go through it in public because it kind of stings. So yeah, Praxis isn't the only one missing people. Jason keeps himself busy patrolling the city when he can, and that's where he runs into this particular bundle of sunshine. The kid looks like he weighs a hundred pounds soaked, so forgive him for not being bothered by his face. "What are you doing here with that attitude, shortstack?"

[align=center][div style="width: 507px; text-align: justify; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 1.4;"][spoiler=YOU GOT HELL TO PAY, BUT YOU ALREADY SOLD YOUR SOUL / INFORMATION, 9/15]‣ Jason Matthias Holloway / Introduced as "Arkham" outside of ND / Cis Male / He / Him
‣ 20 Years Old / Born July 7 / NPC x NPC; Both Deceased / Older Brother: Bruce Holloway
‣ Biromantic Bisexual / 68% Monogamous / Single? / Formerly ½ Jaytim  &  ⅓ Daredona
‣ Member (The Crew): Northstar District / Will wander at times on his own personal missions.

‣ 6'1 & 170-210 lbs. & HEALTH: 90% | Muscular, solid build, stocky and incredibly imposing.
‣ Messy emo hair; charcoal black and usually kind of messy. Typical Style & Messy Style Ref.
‣ Cold gray eyes. | Expresses a lot while saying nothing. Lots of smug smirking and grinning.
‣ Warm, moderately tanned skin. Some light freckles on shoulders from exposure to the sun.

‣ Confused hot mess. | Lots of issues that he hides with intense sarcasm. Be careful with him.
‣ Adaptable and weirdly charming, able to convince people of a lot with just a smile or a threat.
‣ Hardworking and focused, but also incredibly snarky and emotionally distant. Plays favorites.
‣ Has a terrible temper & doesn't balk from doing some immoral things, but sticks to his code.
‣ Would die for a stranger, but mostly just because he doesn't give a damn about his own life.

‣ Strength: 8 / Perception: 6 / Endurance: 7 / Charisma: 7 / Intelligence: 8 / Agility: 6 / Luck: 1
‣ 90/100 Physical Defense; 40/100 Psychological Defense; 70/100 Short-Term Recovery
‣ Nonviolent actions may be powerplayed, as long as they cause physical discomfort at most.

[ALLOY]

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He didn't believe he was the only one to experience loss. It was a common factor of life in this world that people would lose; how many people had he passed with fresh graves in their yards? How many dead had he seen? No, he knew he wasn't the only person to feel the bite of grief, but he was completely alone in the aftermath. His older sister hadn't survived to travel with him, to be a grounding presence he needed, someone who truly understood what it was like, but she didn't hide the way he had. While he crawled into the hidden cellar and watched from beneath the floorboards as dark shapes fell with a thud, she'd stayed with her family. She'd died with them, and maybe it would have been better for Praxis if he'd done the same, instead of stumbling through the world on his own without a damn clue about how it really worked, or who to avoid and who to approach. He didn't have enough experience with people who weren't his family to know how to fluently read body language. Praxis had learned, somewhat, after many close calls and scrapes. Maybe he wasn't learning the right lessons, if his current conclusion was any indicator. Not that he would actually know. He just knew that good people died for no reason at all, and that was how it would always be, with or without his interference.

That wouldn't be him. He refused to be another victim of some twisted fuck, even if he had no other reason beyond that to give more meaning to his life.

Praxis squared his shoulders and lifted his chin, like he'd seen his older sister do so many times when arguing with their parents. She always seemed fearless when she did that, and he hoped after watching for so long that at least the appearance of it had rubbed off onto him. He knew it hadn't stuck below the surface, so when he met the taller man's eyes with his false bravado, his heart beat out an unsteady rhythm against his ribs. "Not much of a greeting card yourself." His lips pursed. "Don't call me that. My name is Praxis."
[spoiler=I RAN SO FAR AWAY (INFO; 9/14)][size=8pt]GENERAL
-Praxis Terzi | Cisgender male, male pronouns | 18 years old | Born June 13
-Unknown sexuality | Single; not looking to grow close with anyone like that
-Resident of NorthStar District (for now; may choose to wander off later)

PHYSICALITY
-Shaggy, curly black hair; perpetually messy | Sharp, vivid green eyes; almond-rectangular shape
-Willowy and slender | Weighs in around 105 pounds, so he's a bit underweight, but not greatly
-Stands at 5'6 | Gains a few inches from the heels of his combat boots (5'8 while worn)
-Unblemished for the most part, but has faint scars all along the knuckles of both hands
-Tends to wear baggier clothing in layers, to seem both more muscular and larger than he is
-Owns a Smith & Wesson Model 642 kept in his pocket | Also owns a small combat knife

PERSONALITY
-Convinced he needs to be the "bad guy" to survive, so many traits are faked/forced
-Sharp-tongued and typically hostile | Keeps to himself and rarely socializes willingly
-More timid than he reveals | Self-serving, though with his own strain of sympathy
-Honestly just a mess with a shit-ton of guilt and confusion (with morality, especially)

[dannychan]

[align=center][div style="width: 350px; text-align: justify; line-height: -1%; color: black; font-size: 12pt;"]as the man grew closer, the tapping of his cane would get louder, until he would stop with the others. he had identified only two persons- two that he didn't know. riley grunted softly as rose a hand to brush back his brown hair. "well then, penis." yes, he purposely called this guy penis, simply because praxis was an asshole so far, and riley was one too. "what do you want?"

/oc opinions i'm :,^)
[spoiler=KINDA HARD TO WATCH THIS LIFE GO BY  |  tags]NAME & NICKNAMES: riley jamison florra  |  riles
— PREVIOUS NAMES & NICKNAMES: no previous names
AGE, PLACE & DATE OF BIRTH: 24 Years Old, born 01/19/13 in chicago.
GENDER & PRONOUNS: Cisgender, he/him

CURRENT RANK & MEMBERSHIP: member of the northstar district
— PREVIOUS RANKS & MEMBERSHIPS: n/a

SEXUALITY & RELATIONSHIP STATUS: panromantic pansexual; assumed single
— POSSIBLE CRUSHES: n/a
PARENTS & GENERATION: NPC x NPC. Generation Z.
— [i]SIBLINGS & HALF-SIBLINGS: no siblings
FRIENDS & CLOSE FRIENDS: he's lonely

LENGTH & WEIGHT: 6'3" & 130lbs. | riley, being as tall as he is, is underweight. if he were to take off his clothes, you'd be able to see bones and such, but they wouldn't be poking out of him. it's not that he doesn't eat, he just has an extremely fast metabolism, and when he does eat, he hardly eats more than he absolutely has to.
— CLOTHES: riley's clothing often hands off his body, but it's not often you find clothes in this day and age. he wears a light blue long sleeved shirt and a scientists jacket he received from his father at the age of 5. he wears brown dress pants and black shows, and a pair of sunglasses to cover his eyes. he often carries around an umbrella, which helps him figure out were hills and corners are and such.

EYES AND APPEARANCE: riley is blind. you wouldn't know unless he took off his sunglasses, since he functions so well. he's lived his entire life without his sight, and while he'd love to see the world, he'd rather stay blind. if you are one of the few people who get to see his eyes, you would discover that they're an odd, milky blue, and are often narrowed in concentration. he navigated by touching the walls as he walks or in certain situations, he will throw pebbles in the direction he's going as a type of echolocation. moving on from eyes, riley is fairly pale, as he doesn't really tan, and spends a lot of time indoors. his hair is a big mass of brunette tangles that your hand could possibly get lost in if you weren't careful. as mentioned before, he's very skinny and incredibly tall, which applies for his face to. he has cheeks that cave in slightly, and a narrow jaw, but high and sharp cheekbones. a common comparison for him is an elf.

EQUIPMENT: keeps a knife in his back pocket, and his umbrella is often believed to be a weapon of some sorts (hidden blade in the handle)

PERSONALITY: riley is a completely uncaring husk of a human being. long story short, he's an asshole. to the few he cares for, he treats them much harsher than anyone else. he will say that they are expendable and easily replaced, when, in reality, he'd be lost without them. he drinks quite a bit to forget all of the mistakes he's made, and hates admitting when he's wrong. he had a very hard time getting along with others, and often spends his time just feeling things. despite his blindness, he loves to "draw", and by draw, i mean scribble on papers. "drawing" often calms his short temper.
— STRENGTHS: navigating through the world, listening for danger, describing noises, sassing someone
— weaknesses: opening up to people and sharing his feelings, making friends, explaining things, being nice in general, admitting his wrong, admitting when he needs help, actually fighting

INTERACTION: he's incredibly easy to fight due to his blindness, but incredibly difficult to trick. just because he's blind and can't see doesn't mean he can't hear or smell well. if you can actually manage to grab him long enough to fight him, then go ahead, but riley is a very tricky boy, and has been training to run from danger his entire life. if you do attack in, attack in BOLD POWDER BLUE

---

if i am needed, [b]send me the link to the thread by pming it to me on my main account, dannychan, as that is the first thing i check.

[WOLF BITE]

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"Riley," Wolfbite rumbled, his tone carried a warning, eyes piercing into the back of the blind man's head as he approached from behind. For a moment or two, he simply stared before flickering his icy, chestnut eyes toward Praxis. A young man who had a bit of an attitude problem—as if they didn't have enough of those, already— but he didn't look like the type to submit so easily, which was a good trait. "Are you here to trade, rest, or to join?"

[div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family:; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 1.4;"][spoiler=I TRIED TO WRITE YOUR NAME IN THE RAIN / INFORMATION; UPDATED 09/12/2017]
GENERAL INFORMATION | I TASTE YOU ON MY TONGUE
‣ Demyan Volkov / Usually Introduced as "Wolfbite" / Cisgender Male / He/Him
  — IF YOU'RE ASSUMING YOUR CHARACTER LEARNED WOLF'S NAME OOCLY, PLEASE USE WOLFBITE.
  — Demyan is a personal name that he only really allows immediate family or close friends to use; Cecil. .
‣ 27 Years Old / March 1st / Kazimir x Nikky; Alive
‣ Demiromantic Gray-Asexual / 100% Monogamous / Very Possessive / Single.
‣ Overseer of Northstar District / Leader
‣ Main Character Tropes:
---

APPEARANCE | YOU ASK ME WHAT I'M THINKING ABOUT
‣ 6'6 & 193-235 lbs. | Muscular, toned. He's broad-shouldered and significantly athletic, little to no body fat anywhere on him.
‣ Silky, sandy beige hair that's messy, like major bedhead. It's shorter at the sides, but lingering on the top.
‣ Dark, chocolate brown eyes.
‣ A pale ivory, though a layer of darker skin blankets the fairness, causing small freckles—barley noticeable— to speckle in various places.
‣ Heavily scarred on his torso. Some can be seen on his face; he has a scar on his right cheek and a lengthy one running down his left eye.
‣ Wears casual clothes. Sweat pants, or jeans with a t-shirt.
‣ Wears a black necklace with blue crystals on the end.

INJURIES & HEALTH | I'LL TELL THAT I'M THINKING ABOUT
‣ Heavily bruised; a gunshot wound to his right shoulder, as well as a fresh cut on his cheek. In pain, and incredibly tired.

PERSONALITY | WHATEVER YOU'RE THINKING ABOUT
‣ Anti-Hero, Emotion Suppression, Undying Loyalty, Beneath the Mask.
‣ Stoic, calculating, blunt.
‣ Oddly gentle, particularly with kids or teenagers who have been through some sort of trauma.
‣ Somewhat playful with people he is comfortable with; will smile, seldom laugh.
‣ Methodical, firm, confident. Calculative and holds himself to a high regard.
‣ Surprisingly gentle with children.
‣ Very asocial, not the most approachable person. He won't hold a conversation well.

COMBAT | TELL ME SOMETHING I FORGET
‣ Strength: 9 / Perception: 10 / Endurance: 10 / Charisma: 3 / Intelligence: 9 / Agility: 6 / Luck: 2
‣ Strength, endurance, and agility are the result of training. Perception due to hypervigilance.
‣ Difficulty is determined by skill, with an opponent of the same size + life/combat experience.
‣ 90/100 Physical Defense / 80/100 Psychological Defense / 70/100 Short-Term Recovery
‣ Nonviolent actions may be powerplayed, as long as they cause physical discomfort at most

[ALLOY]

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The sound of something tapping against the ground drew Praxis' focus, and the creator of the smacking was a man taller than both of them, from what he could see. He was also...blind? His grandmother had lost her vision, and used a stick to make her way around, but he hadn't met anyone so young without their sight. But of course, he was as much a pain as the first arrival, although his insult was...lacking. "Are you fucking serious?" Praxis seemed almost genuinely unimpressed and indignant. "That's the first thing you think of? What hurts more is that you couldn't come up with something better for me." Not that he was giving the stranger permission to address him with any nicknames- how difficult was it to use his name and leave it at that? "My name is Praxis. Not Penis, not Shortstack, not anything else." He stiffly folded his arms over his chest, reluctant to answer the demand, though he couldn't ignore the racing of his heart, the anxiousness quickening his pulse. Praxis clenched his hands into fists at his sides, and verdant eyes skipped over to the next man towering above everyone. Well, mostly Praxis.

"I'm staying here for as long as I can stand it." Pointedly, he looked to both Riley and the first one who met him. 
[spoiler=I RAN SO FAR AWAY (INFO; 9/14)][size=8pt]GENERAL
-Praxis Terzi | Cisgender male, male pronouns | 18 years old | Born June 13
-Unknown sexuality | Single; not looking to grow close with anyone like that
-Resident of NorthStar District (for now; may choose to wander off later)

PHYSICALITY
-Shaggy, curly black hair; perpetually messy | Sharp, vivid green eyes; almond-rectangular shape
-Willowy and slender | Weighs in around 105 pounds, so he's a bit underweight, but not greatly
-Stands at 5'6 | Gains a few inches from the heels of his combat boots (5'8 while worn)
-Unblemished for the most part, but has faint scars all along the knuckles of both hands
-Tends to wear baggier clothing in layers, to seem both more muscular and larger than he is
-Owns a Smith & Wesson Model 642 kept in his pocket | Also owns a small combat knife

PERSONALITY
-Convinced he needs to be the "bad guy" to survive, so many traits are faked/forced
-Sharp-tongued and typically hostile | Keeps to himself and rarely socializes willingly
-More timid than he reveals | Self-serving, though with his own strain of sympathy
-Honestly just a mess with a shit-ton of guilt and confusion (with morality, especially)

[ALLOY]

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He hadn't known where he was going for a while now, if he could quantify a whole year as just a while. They'd been a fairly secluded family, living and caring for themselves on a farmhouse surrounded by acres of land unpopulated. Praxis had picked a direction and started walking, body too numb to register the miles he'd crossed until the sun, initially just peeking over the horizon, was sinking low into the dark. He couldn't explain all the events occurring in that year between then and now- Praxis didn't remember the details clearly, everything too fuzzy and embittered by stinging emotions to be reliable accounts of all that time. He'd seen things, though, making his way aimlessly through many different territories. He'd seen people robbed, found a few looted bodies here and there, passed abandoned buildings and houses partially burned down. Where they'd lived, he hadn't been exposed to the world like this, with its many ugly facets, and it ached especially because he saw his family in the faces of the dead, of the abandoned. They'd been good people, the best, but in the end, when they died, there wasn't any justice for them. Maybe if he were stronger, if he weren't a coward then their murderers would be dead now. Instead, he'd reverted to viewing it all as a fight for survival, and from what he could see- well. It was always the thieves who lived, always the killers and those who preyed on the weak.

He didn't want to be like them, but it wasn't about that, was it? It was more about what he needed to do to continue existing, which raised the question of whether he was willing to do that, and the answer was...more ambiguous than it should have been.

It wouldn't matter either way. No one walking the earth knew who he was, so he could die in five minutes and there'd be no one the wiser. He'd be a faceless, nameless body, just like his family, lost to the tragedies of this shithole. He'd already started to forget some of their voices, their smiles, the way his sister looked when would take his hand and drag him through the rows of corn. None of it made a difference anymore. He was the only person who knew who they were, and he was the last being anyone wanted as their legacy, purposeless and pathetic as he was. Fuck. He couldn't even stare at the fences bordering a strange city without his mind jumping to how they used to climb the fences as kids to be closer to the sky. What a bunch of stupid children they'd been.

Praxis shoved his hands into the pockets of one of the several jackets he wore, staring at the other side of the fence with a pinched expression. "Love the place already."
[spoiler=I RAN SO FAR AWAY (INFO; 9/14)][size=8pt]GENERAL
-Praxis Terzi | Cisgender male, male pronouns | 18 years old | Born June 13
-Unknown sexuality | Single; not looking to grow close with anyone like that
-Resident of NorthStar District (for now; may choose to wander off later)

PHYSICALITY
-Shaggy, curly black hair; perpetually messy | Sharp, vivid green eyes; almond-rectangular shape
-Willowy and slender | Weighs in around 105 pounds, so he's a bit underweight, but not greatly
-Stands at 5'6 | Gains a few inches from the heels of his combat boots (5'8 while worn)
-Unblemished for the most part, but has faint scars all along the knuckles of both hands
-Tends to wear baggier clothing in layers, to seem both more muscular and larger than he is
-Owns a Smith & Wesson Model 642 kept in his pocket | Also owns a small combat knife

PERSONALITY
-Convinced he needs to be the "bad guy" to survive, so many traits are faked/forced
-Sharp-tongued and typically hostile | Keeps to himself and rarely socializes willingly
-More timid than he reveals | Self-serving, though with his own strain of sympathy
-Honestly just a mess with a shit-ton of guilt and confusion (with morality, especially)