01-31-2017, 08:29 PM
[div style=" width: 420px; text-align: justify; line-height: 105%; font-family: verdana; font-size: 9pt; margin:auto; color: black;"]with a place like the badlands, fun was kind of short. sure, maybe it depended on your interpretation of the word 'fun', but i, personally, was not overly excited by the prospect of digging around in a trash can for my next meal, or skinning a cat and chewing the flesh off its bones. you'd think that in a place filled with the scum of the earth, there would be more opportunity for entertainment, but everyone was so terrified of blake that they didn't dare rebel a little bit. which was fine with me, since i was smart enough to want to save my own skin. but it did mean that occasionally, things got a little dull. since there were technically no 'rules' in the badlands, we were free to do as we pleased. and naturally, i interpreted that as 'start some gladiator–style cage fights with the violent idiots in this place'.
i was a good climber. i liked to climb; i was little enough to wriggle through windows, agile enough to squirm my way up ladders or walls. there was advantage to being as small and skinny as i was. up high, you were safe from the bigger guys – if anyone standing over five six tried to get up the pole, they'd be far too heavy. but i liked to climb. which is how i came to be perched on the top of an old telephone pole, sitting cross–legged and proud, with a haughty view of most of the place. jesus, it really was gross. trash everywhere, empty streets, debris. the place was a scene of fucking squalor. hopefully everyone else was as bored as i was, or there was no way in hell anyone would come. which is why i had a little incentive. sitting in my lap was a pack of cigarettes, a rusted, but still sharp, pair of scissors, and, as the quote–unquote 'first prize', three shiny bullets. maybe it was stupid to give this shit away, but i'd always been impulsive, and the entertainment would be great.
rising unsteadily to my feet and balancing precariously on top of the telephone pole (prior to the outbreak, i'd been around ninety pounds, but being in a constant state of near–starvation had whittled me down, and although i had no idea how much i weighed, it wasn't very much), i shoved the prizes into the pockets of my hoodie, cupped my hands around my mouth, and yelled.
"get your asses over here! you'll never fucking guess what i've got!" my voice was clear, sharp, and i waited a couple moments as curious people gathered. then i stood, arms crossed, and spoke loudly, observing the crowd. it was exhilarating being up so high. "i've got three items in my pockets, and i'm willing to give them to three of you, for free!" i paused and drew out the items, nodding in satisfaction as the bullets drew attention. "ain't that great?!" i grinned around at the crowd. "all you suckers gotta do is fight each other! no weapons, no knives, although if you're sneaky enough, you can get that shit past me. winner stays on, and at the end, either three of you will win, if you're too much of a pussy to risk losing to another winner, or one of you will beat the other two and get all three of the items. who wants to play?!"
[color=black][spoiler=tags  updated jan 29]
GENERAL
– dolores 'lola' candida lancaster
– apathetic about her gender | she / her, its / it, they / them
– sixteen years old
– unrestricted sexuality
– borderline personality disorder | hypersexuality and sex addiction
– badlands | grunt
BACKGROUND
– was sexually, physically, emotionally and verbally abused by her father for much of her childhood
– her mother regularly neglected her, refusing lola food and shelter in her own home
– grew up half–wild and having to fend for herself
– eventually beat her father to death with a baseball bat and ran away aged thirteen
– has been with the badlands for a year and a half
PHYSICAL
– stands at only five foot tall
– skinny, bony and underweight due to malnutrition as a child
– very naturally pretty but rarely invested in her appearance
– small facial features that make her appear pixie–like; upturned nose, pointed chin, high cheekbones and strong eyebrows
– her golden–blonde hair is always messy and tangled
– her clothes are mostly several sizes too big for her and often torn in various places
PERSONALITY
– selfish, meddling, arrogant, crude, loud-mouthed, dirty-minded, messy, animalistic, frequent liar, difficult, violent, obnoxious, bossy, mocking, insulting, angry, cruel, mean, delirious, delusional, savage, tease, sexual, threatening, fucked up, self-loathing, traumatised, erratic, compulsive, instinctive, attention-seeking, unstable, brutal
– enfj – the protagonist
RELATIONSHIPS
– npc x npc, both dead
– single | not a romantic person at all
INVENTORY
– 1 x metal baseball bat
– 1 x semi–automatic handgun
– 4 x penknives
– 1 x lighter
– 3 x pack of cigarettes
– 1 x water canteen
– 1 x hip flask, empty
– 2 x packs of bubblegum
INTERACTIONS
– physically very aggressive and lacking in inhibition, despite her small size
– fights very dirty and is squirmy and difficult to catch
– will probably hurt you a lot before you get a chance to hurt her
– fairly precise shot with a gun[/spoiler]
i was a good climber. i liked to climb; i was little enough to wriggle through windows, agile enough to squirm my way up ladders or walls. there was advantage to being as small and skinny as i was. up high, you were safe from the bigger guys – if anyone standing over five six tried to get up the pole, they'd be far too heavy. but i liked to climb. which is how i came to be perched on the top of an old telephone pole, sitting cross–legged and proud, with a haughty view of most of the place. jesus, it really was gross. trash everywhere, empty streets, debris. the place was a scene of fucking squalor. hopefully everyone else was as bored as i was, or there was no way in hell anyone would come. which is why i had a little incentive. sitting in my lap was a pack of cigarettes, a rusted, but still sharp, pair of scissors, and, as the quote–unquote 'first prize', three shiny bullets. maybe it was stupid to give this shit away, but i'd always been impulsive, and the entertainment would be great.
rising unsteadily to my feet and balancing precariously on top of the telephone pole (prior to the outbreak, i'd been around ninety pounds, but being in a constant state of near–starvation had whittled me down, and although i had no idea how much i weighed, it wasn't very much), i shoved the prizes into the pockets of my hoodie, cupped my hands around my mouth, and yelled.
"get your asses over here! you'll never fucking guess what i've got!" my voice was clear, sharp, and i waited a couple moments as curious people gathered. then i stood, arms crossed, and spoke loudly, observing the crowd. it was exhilarating being up so high. "i've got three items in my pockets, and i'm willing to give them to three of you, for free!" i paused and drew out the items, nodding in satisfaction as the bullets drew attention. "ain't that great?!" i grinned around at the crowd. "all you suckers gotta do is fight each other! no weapons, no knives, although if you're sneaky enough, you can get that shit past me. winner stays on, and at the end, either three of you will win, if you're too much of a pussy to risk losing to another winner, or one of you will beat the other two and get all three of the items. who wants to play?!"
[color=black][spoiler=tags  updated jan 29]
GENERAL
– dolores 'lola' candida lancaster
– apathetic about her gender | she / her, its / it, they / them
– sixteen years old
– unrestricted sexuality
– borderline personality disorder | hypersexuality and sex addiction
– badlands | grunt
BACKGROUND
– was sexually, physically, emotionally and verbally abused by her father for much of her childhood
– her mother regularly neglected her, refusing lola food and shelter in her own home
– grew up half–wild and having to fend for herself
– eventually beat her father to death with a baseball bat and ran away aged thirteen
– has been with the badlands for a year and a half
PHYSICAL
– stands at only five foot tall
– skinny, bony and underweight due to malnutrition as a child
– very naturally pretty but rarely invested in her appearance
– small facial features that make her appear pixie–like; upturned nose, pointed chin, high cheekbones and strong eyebrows
– her golden–blonde hair is always messy and tangled
– her clothes are mostly several sizes too big for her and often torn in various places
PERSONALITY
– selfish, meddling, arrogant, crude, loud-mouthed, dirty-minded, messy, animalistic, frequent liar, difficult, violent, obnoxious, bossy, mocking, insulting, angry, cruel, mean, delirious, delusional, savage, tease, sexual, threatening, fucked up, self-loathing, traumatised, erratic, compulsive, instinctive, attention-seeking, unstable, brutal
– enfj – the protagonist
RELATIONSHIPS
– npc x npc, both dead
– single | not a romantic person at all
INVENTORY
– 1 x metal baseball bat
– 1 x semi–automatic handgun
– 4 x penknives
– 1 x lighter
– 3 x pack of cigarettes
– 1 x water canteen
– 1 x hip flask, empty
– 2 x packs of bubblegum
INTERACTIONS
– physically very aggressive and lacking in inhibition, despite her small size
– fights very dirty and is squirmy and difficult to catch
– will probably hurt you a lot before you get a chance to hurt her
– fairly precise shot with a gun[/spoiler]
YOU'VE GOT A PRETTY
KIND OF DIRTY FACE
KIND OF DIRTY FACE