TRUTH MAKER | JOINING

[south]

[align=center][div style="width:500px; text-align:justify;"]It was a Led Zeppelin song, blaring in his ears. Moby Dick, basically an entire drum solo the majority of the song's lengthy length. The rapid beating was a way to tune out the own frequent rapid beating of his own heart he heard so often, and raised the man's confidence as he looked around the lonely street to just as lonesome buildings.

Boneyard directed his attention to the man who approached him first. He looked to be about the same size as Bones, but he was clutching his shoulder- obviously injured. He couldn't help but scoff as the stranger took to grasping something Bones would only assume was a weapon behind his back. Hazel eyes narrowed for a milisecond at the other's tone, but his agitation was suppressed by a thin smile, and a slight tilt of his head. "Time of the essence?" He cooed curiously. The drums sped up, hit after hit after hit upon the thick skin. "Name's Bones-" He stops as he notices another figure hobbling up. Were these guys ambushed or something? Christ, he hoped he'd picked the right group here. Hopefully they weren't all as weak as they currently seemed.

"Drop my weapons?" Bones echoed. "You know how much I paid for this gun?" Bones scoffed. "Got me fucked up, kid." He drew the gun, and unloaded the mag, before sheathing it again. Bones waved the mag in the air, eyeing Cecil as he shot him a smirk. "Better?" Bones felt the ordeal laughable- if he wanted to shoot them, he would've done it by now; afterall, Wolfbite's shoulder was a perfect target if he wished it so.

"Don't got any affiliations- a problem I came here to fix. I'm looking to join this place-" He looked back to Cecil now, flashing him another lopsided grin. "Not light it up."

[WOLF BITE]

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Narrowing his eyes, Wolfbite's hand slipped away from the knife in his pocket, squaring his shoulders a bit as his cognac hued gaze settled upon the other. His eyebrow raised as he turned, looking toward Cecil with worry glistening within his eyes for just a moment, pushing it away and focusing onto Bones. A strange name, but he had no room to judge unique names. He knew that it probably wasn't his real name, but possibly an alias, much like his own. No one had to go by the name they were born with; it was the apocalypse. "Give me the bullets," he instructed, stretching his hand out toward the stranger, waiting for them to be dropped right into his palm. Grunting softly, he gave a small nod, tilting his head to the side as he appeared to be... Amused. He hoped the man didn't underestimate him just because of his injury, he could easily drop him on his ass without batting an eyelash. "Do you know of a group named the Badlands?" he asked slowly, his critical stare fixated on to his face, searching for any signs of a lie.

[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

[south]

[align=center][div style="width:500px; text-align:justify;"]The drums slowed now, but their rhythmic beat was no less skillful, and it moved in fleeting sets. Bones' gaze shifted to Wolfbite again, focusing on the other as his hand extended, palm up. The other's inquiry made Bones grow defensive, and he had to rethink his choices of just how badly he wanted to join this group. Wasn't there a lodge full of rabbits up north? That sounded nice.

"I'd sooner bite one." Bones stated flatly, brows furrowing. The brunette shook his head and stepped back, tugging on his backpack self consciously. His smug humor seemed to fade as distrust clearly shown in his demeanor. "I'm not about to hand over my last bullets to a stranger. I fought hard as hell to get those. Fought off plenty of thieves for them, I'll just as soon do it again if I have to." It wasn't a threat- in fact, Bones was trying to reason with the man. Truth be told, he needed a place to crash tonight. Wandering alone at night was the same as walking in the Valley of Death. He had travelled for some time to get here, and he couldn't help but have hoped to call this place home when he saw it- it was so alike his former home, the boy in him couldn't help but build it up in his mind.

Bones clutched the mag, keeping it close to himself as the other soon asked another question. The Badlands? Bones had heard of it: a place crawling with thieves, killers, and criminals- not that he hadn't been all of those at one point in his life. Still, it wasn't a place Bones wanted to stay in. Sure he could fit in there without a sweat, but he sure as hell didn't want to. Wasn't exactly a place he could happily call home. "Heard of it, never been there- don't want to have been there." He said shortly. Those guys likely had made themselves an enemy of the District, Bones guessed. It wasn't like they made allies.

[south]

tiny bump so he can actually be accepted or something

[WOLF BITE]

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[ sorry about the wait!! ]

His response was to be expected, but that didn't stop the scoff from escaping his lips, his nose scrunching up slightly to show an expression of brief disdain. He seemed to have some sort of attachment to his weapon as nicely crafted as it seemed, but he was not going to back down on his own rule he carefully enforced. Wolfbite's head bobbed slowly in understanding as he gave his reasoning, lowering his hand down to hang at his side, eyes still trained onto Bones. "I see," he murmured, slipping his hand into his pocket to finger the necklace he kept securely on his person. The leader was pleased to see he showed genuine displeasure with the wretched place, rolling his head to the side as he gave a soft grunt. "Well, welcome to Northstar District, Bones. I'm Wolfbite, this is Cecil." He gestured his hand toward the white-haired man, taking his time to glance over at the other before focusing his eyes back on to the newcomer.

[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

[SITRI—]

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[table]

[south]

[align=center][div style="width:500px; text-align:justify;"]Long ago had Bones accepted the man he was. Such a journey was littered with empty bottles and syringes, stained by liquor and blood, but nevertheless, Bones was borne into his identity. He held upon his spine the weight of his earned consequences, and accepted them without regret. Every decision Bones now made was made in confidence; the only person he had to bow to was himself, and he was a lenient god. He was not a good man, perhaps not even a decent one, but he was well-aware of this by now. He was a tough pill to swallow, but Bones had swallowed it long ago. Only, it might be a bit tougher for others to.

His shoulder shrugged forward, carrying with it the weight of a backpack that swayed against Bones' back. He traveled fairly light, few things in his possession: two cans of beans, a mag, a walkman followed by a small box of cassettes, his last bottle of water, and a paperback he had picked up just recently. That and the pistol tucked in the waistband of his jeans- a true thing of beauty to Bones, who had paid a large amount for it as a teenager. The handgun was a pearly white color with gold accents, and upon it's grip was a portrait of jesus, roses above his crown of thrones, and across the barrel the words, "god bless our god." A beautiful killer, the nonreligious man thought, and an awfully ironic one.

Clad in a dusty pink t-shirt and a black windbreaker bomber jacket, the male popped his gum as he sauntered down the forest trail, leading to the city he soon hoped to call home. It felt a bit nostalgic to Bones to be entering the city, it's disheveled nature now akin to the Detroit slums he was raised in, bringing the male to have to force his anxiety back down to it's normal levels as he felt it crawl up his chest.

The barricades looked more like a playground to Bones than a blockade, and the male found himself more and more tempted to scale the fences as he looked impatiently for an entry break. After scanning the area, Bones shrugged the backpack straps onto both his shoulders now, approaching the fence. Gripping the bar, Bones lifted himself up and swung his legs over the fence, landing on the street with a soft thud, an exhale escaping him as he straightened.

The brunette fixed his hair as he looked about himself, idling down the street until he could see the Costco across the block. Deciding his scenic surroundings would be a waste without a soundtrack, he swung his pack to his chest, removing from it the walkman and a cassette tape with a star where it's title was supposed to be. After adjusting the earbuds in his ears, Bones played the music as he zipped his pack up again and rose to his feet. Popping his gum again, Bones walked down the street towards the warehouse, hands lightly gripping the backpack straps as he swayed down the pavement, music awfully loud.

"Well, is anybody home?" Bones asked aloud as he drew nearer to the fortified warehouse.

/ Super sorry if he trespassed a bit too far? I wasn't exactly sure if/where guards or patrols were stationed, so apologies!

[WOLF BITE]

[align=center][div style="background: transparent;color: black; width:500px; text-align:justify; padding:1px; font-size: 9pt; line-height:1.3;"]/ it's alright, esk!! the guards and what not will be set up later on! so don't worry <3

After the recent aftermath of a heated fight between the Badlands, he was even more stressed than before. It was a miracle that he hadn't simply dropped dead from the pressure weighing down on him. Nursing a bullet wound that sent pain shooting down his arm every time he so much as breathed, he could take the pain, but this wasn't the same. A punch to the face or anywhere else was fine, even being knifed was manageable for him, but being shot was a completely different story. His body felt like it had been on fire; pins and needles lit by a flame before stabbing him repeatedly down his arm, numbing the extremities on his hand. It was constant. Hell, why was he even out of bed, right now? A leader couldn't just be put on bed rest- he had a group to guide and take over. He had no subordinate to handle the settlement without him, so he was the only choice left, unfortunately. Grunting softly, his uninjured shoulder raised as his hand reached across to his other, bandaged shoulder to clutch it gently, inhaling softly before he moved forward at the sound of a voice.

On edge, his hand dropped down to his side to hover over the handle of his knife in his back pocket, approaching Bones cautiously. "Give me your name and affiliation, now." Wolfbite spoke curtly, his voice strained with the pain causing his teeth to clench and his muscles to spasm momentarily. He managed to straighten himself up, squaring his shoulders as best as he could as he gazed down at the stranger.

[SITRI—]

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[table]