[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]
YOU'VE GOT A PRETTY
KIND OF DIRTY FACE
[align=center][div style="width: 430px; font-size: 8pt;text-align: justify;color:#363636;line-height:115%"] jamison, despite the raggled look and the fact that years of radiation widdled his brain down to mostly a crazy mess of thought and confusion, was pretty much a genius at this point. jamie had no idea he was, but he practically was. the little shit was able to make explosives out of almost anything- scrap metal, beg springs, hell even a few pencils could do it. as long as jamie had something, he could most likely make a pretty wicked bomb out of it. not to mention that he made his very own prosthetic limbs, which even though they looked rusted they were still made pretty complex. at least for a dirty, grimy australian dude that had a pretty extreme mind when it came to thinking up things. and thank god that he had at least a little bit of smarts to him, because if he didn't he probably would've wasted his life trying to get those scissors.
not bullets, but the scissors.
fawkes had no reason to try and get the bullets. yeah, he could trade them for something good like meat or scrap metal, but a good ol cooked lizard was better than what they could offer. and scrap metal? he could find that shit anywhere if he looked hard enough. but scissors? fuck, he could do a lot with those. like.... cut things.
he may be a genius, but sometimes he forgot that certain words existed.
the male would be seen limping over, standing near the back of the group as he trained his amber eyes on the one up on the pole. jesus, she sure could climb!
PUNCH YOUR LIGHT'S OUT, HIT THE PAVEMENT
THAT'S WHAT I CALL ENTERTAINMENT !
[align=center] k
TATIANA DOGSWORTH [abbr=17 years old, cis female, badlands warchief, savage, salty, harsh, mean, open, fearless, she's a person, bisexual and biromantic]✨[/abbr]
I can do it like a brother
Do it like a dude
Grab my crotch,
wear my hat low like you
She was bored, there was no doubt in the seventeen year olds mind, she needed something to do. She had given a little lesson earlier on some martial arts she knew, mainly the basics of Brazilian Jiu Jitsu, not really any punches though. Tatiana being a good Martial Arts fighter with only two of the forms, being Brazilian Jiu Jitsu and Aikido. She'd rather use Aikido but she didn't want to treat anyone else that, she was a warchief but there was no way she'd teach anyone Aikido. Tat had learned from stuff from her 'step in' father Charles, but her mother taught her Brazilian Jiu Jitsu and Aikido. She started both of them around the age of four in a half more close to five years of age.
Walking around the girl had her usual skirt and shirt on, her knives hidden under her skirt as usual. "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?!" Now what was this, the Warchief's green eyes lit up. Walking over she looked up too see that rat of a girl, what was her name. Lydia, Laci, Loxie??? No wait shit, no it was Lola. She didn't feel like beating the shit out of this malnutrition younger teenager. But she did want those items, and she was of course bored.
Looking up at the girl the Warchief crossed her arms, she wasn't going to not have her knives not on her body. Plus Lola having no idea about the blades on her body. But this chick was practically a newbie to Lola, she's only been around for a year and a half. Unlike Tatiana whose lived here sense she was six years old, she had left Russia when she was three years old with her mother after her father died when she was a lot younger. A smirk laid on her lips, her gaze full of light. She stood tall, she worked on a psychological level from a young age, that after she knew how to fight that she probably won't have to actually fight. That doesn't always work, but she stood tall and vicious like. Even if you think she was a just a small girl she was strong, and she knew that.
"You gonna come down then." She spoke she was ready to have a little fun fight, sparring was one of her most favorite things ever. It gave her joy and it was a fun thing to do.
[spoiler=TAGS | UPDATED 1/29] GENERAL
✨ Tatiana Dogsworth | Tat | Cis Female (she/her)
✨ Scorpio / 17 years old / ages in real life time
✨ Badlands
✨ Warchief
✨ Spotify playlist ✨
NOTES
✨ Born in what would be Russia, her father was a mobster in what would be Russia, had moved too the Badlands area, her mother left several years ago and left her in the hands of some members of the group, what a terrific idea right.
✨ She is a sort of baddie, grunge, little rebellious teenager, she is one with beating people up, pure in her appearance though, frequently ignoring people.
✨ She has a thick Russian accent, that is slightly rough, dominating, but very interesting to listen too
✨ Smells of a cigarette smoke.
PHYSICAL
✨ Petite, 5' tall, pale, and a smol teenager.
✨ Chloe Mortez Grace
✨ Constantly wearing skirts or dresses
✨ Injuries: scratches and bruises
✨ Aliments: 80%
PERSONA
✨ ESTP | The Rebellious Teen | The Fighter | Chaotic Good
✨ Loyal, salty, fighter, strong, stubborn, and defensive
✨ Cocky, tricky, will fight you I fucking swear, hot headed
INVENTORY
✨ .44: 2
✨ A Colt Model 1873 Single-Action "New Model Army Metallic Cartridge Revolving Pistol"
✨ A switchblade knife
✨ Butterfly Knife
✨ Glass Knife
✨ Wasp Knife (one time use)
✨ 4 Throwing Knives
✨ Wooden Baseball Bat
✨ Two packs of gum
✨ Pack of cigarettes
✨ Water Canteen
✨ Lighter
RELATIONSHIPS
NPC X NPC
✨ Bisexual and Binromantic
✨ Single
✨ Friends:
✨ Crushes:
✨ Enemies:
INTERACTION
✨ dirty fighter, strong
✨ physically hard, and mentally medium
✨ skilled in martial arts, knife fighting, and a bit of gun play
✨ address in BOLD
✨ attack in #640000
✨ can powerplay nonviolent or peaceful gestures [/spoiler]
02-01-2017, 04:25 AM
(This post was last modified: 02-01-2017, 07:49 AM by DEXTER..)
[align=center][div style="background=transparent; borderwidth=0px; bordercolor=; width: 350px; font-size: 8pt; font-family:arial; text-transform:lowercase; text-align:justify"]
jesus christ, that girl had a voice. dexter had been been doing simple tasks, such as cleaning and sharpening his knives, lighting a few fireworks, and working on his shooting range, when lola's yell - practically a scream, mind you - pierced his eardrums. at first he thought it to be some kind of war cry, or st peter's was attacking.. but no, she just wanted people to fight over some shit in her pocket. but who knew - maybe it would be worthwhile.
the darkhaired man gazed up at lola, frowning slightly at the sight of her balancing precariously on top of the pole, before smirking and calling, "why don't we just get straight to the point if you want to wrestle that much, babe?" he figured that he could steal something from her as they made contact.. and it would be a nice change of scenery.
shit, was tat supposed to hear that? eh, whatever.. she knew that side of him anyway. just in case, a ruffle of her hair was sent her way, along with another small smirk. yeah, she wouldn't mind,he was positive.
[spoiler=info  updated 1/28/17]
[size=8pt]GENERAL:
★ DEXTER MOREAU | DEX | CISGENDER MALE
★ panromantic | pansexual
★ 22 years of age | august 12th | ages one per year, on birthday
★ the badlands | grunt
IMPORTANT FACTS:
★ speaks both french and english and isn't afraid to show off.
★ is slightly obsessed with fireworks, sparklers and other explosive pyrotechnics.
★ at night, you can find him looking at the stars although he doesn't often invite others.
PHYSICAL:
★ HUMAN [8.12 / main] | health: 100%
 a sharp jaw and high cheekbones line this young man's face, tracing defined bones on his sunkissed face. dark brows and chocolate-colored locks frame his face, forcing his honeybrown eyes to pop. his frame can be described as muscular but slightly lithe as well. he's worked hard to avoid being beaten up in the badlands, and doesn't take kindly to offense. his outfit usually consists of a white shirt and dark jeans, occasionally paired with a leather jacket.
 [i]major injuries: none
PERSONALITY:
dexter is, well, easygoing. he takes life with stride, savoring it and trying every single aspect of it. he's extremely loyal, without a doubt and would die for friends and family. he is ambitious and pursues his dreams without a second thought, although this may come back to haunt him in the future. at first, most people label him as the 'flirty player' or the 'lazy pervert' of the badlands, but once people get to know him they realize that that's not true (okay, maybe a little bit true). he's a dreamer inside, one who will look at the stars all night long and not even realize that it's morning until the galaxies above fade into a new day. he may seem completely self-confident, but he's afraid. he feels as if he can't trust anyone in the badlands, and the stars are his only escape. if people really knew him, they'd know that he wasn't either of the above titles; he's an 'easygoing loser'.
INVENTORY
★ a butterfly knife
★ a ballistic knife
★ semi-automatic pistol
★ fireworks
★ sparklers
★ romeo and juliet book
★ dried dog meat
RELATIONSHIPS:
★ single
★ NPC x NPC | generation 2
★ No Romantic Interest
★ No Sexual Interest
INTERACTION:
★ easily interacts + cautiously friendly
★ difficulty: 8/10 in battle | + strength & speed | - stamina & agility
★ begins battles, even if attempts to avoid
★ speech in bold #d3ac78
★ attack in bold #78a6d3
★ can powerplay nonviolent actions
★ all IC opinions
[/spoiler]
(02-15-2017, 02:58 AM)aporia. link Wrote:[align=center][div style="background: white;
[div style="bgcolor=; border: none; width: 375px; padding: 0px; line-height: 13px; text-align: justify; font-size: 11.5px; color: #262626; font-family: arial; text-transform:lowercase; margin-top:0px; padding-bottom:20px; margin-top:-2px;"]this is so cute im gonna pee
[div style=" width: 420px; text-align: justify; line-height: 105%; font-family: verdana; font-size: 9pt; margin:auto; color: black;"]i watched in satisfaction as the crowd gathered, and observed each of them, trying to gauge what object they were most interested in. jamison caught my eye first, and from what i could tell, he was fascinated by the pair of scissors. lightly testing my theory, i moved the hand with the scissors in, and watched as his eyes followed, gaze firmly fixed on the rusty objects. jesus fuck, if the freak wanted them that much, i was half tempted to throw them at him. maybe they'd land point–first and he'd have some digging to do to get them out of him.
"you want 'em, metalmouth?" i teased, my eyebrows raised as i stared down at him. "you're pretty tall, even if you are a little gimpy. i bet you could beat out any of these fuckers! wanna try your hand?"
tearing my gaze away from jamison, i looked down towards tatiana. she was pretty, i'd give her that, and as small as i was, although there was more meat on her bones than on mine. and she was hard, i knew that much. i'd be down to fuck her, but fuck knows what was under those fingernails of hers. couldn't have those inside of me. still, she would be pretty good entertainment, since she was such a good fighter.
"you gonna come down then?" her voice was a little sassy, a little teasing, but i only laughed, grinning down at her and shaking my head.
"nuh uh, tata. if you can win, then i'll come down. but i'm not stupid enough to get caught between you and your burning desire for a pack of cigarettes." cutie–pie though she was, i didn't want to try my luck, since there was a chance she'd kill for one of the items. maybe she would. that'd be exciting.
"why don't we just get straight to the point if you want to wrestle that much, babe?" for a moment, i didn't recognise the voice, but the comment was enough to pinpoint it as belonging to dexter, and when i looked towards the source of the noise, i was confirmed right. i laughed brightly and blew him a kiss, raising my eyebrows at him.
"hey, if you can win, then you can claim your prize. come on, dex, prove yourself worthy!" i felt safe up on the telephone pole, and if anyone tried to climb up after me, i could always shoot them. from here, i could watch the fights, have my fun, and then reward the victors. or victor. just depended on how much they wanted the prizes. turning away from dex to address them all, i called down to them. "jamison! if you want the scissors that bad, why don't you fight tat or dex? got nothing to lose – 'cept maybe another leg!"
[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
[align=center][div style="width: 430px; font-size: 8pt;text-align: justify;color:#363636;line-height:115%"] his eyes traveled way from the scissors for a moment as he stared up at lola, brows quickly furrowing. he would then turn to look at dexter and tat for a moment, almost considering. should he do it? that pair of scissors sound really good..... a pause would come from him, until eventually he would say "y'know sharin' is a thing, right?" ignoring the insults towards his severed limbs was easy. he was used to getting teased for the lack of arm and leg on the left side on his body. all he would say is that he was 'all right!' and wiggle his mechanical limbs.
//rip muse
PUNCH YOUR LIGHT'S OUT, HIT THE PAVEMENT
THAT'S WHAT I CALL ENTERTAINMENT !
[align=center] k
TATIANA DOGSWORTH [abbr=17 years old, cis female, badlands warchief, savage, salty, harsh, mean, open, fearless, she's a person, bisexual and biromantic]✨[/abbr]
I can do it like a brother
Do it like a dude
Grab my crotch,
wear my hat low like you
Crossing her arms the girl examined her opponent, it was Jamison, and if Lola decided to not be a little bitch and stay on that pole then Lola would also be an opponent. But suddenly Dexter had walked up, "why don't we just get straight to the point if you want to wrestle that much, babe?" It wasn’t unusual to hear Dexter flirting with others, but Lola? The girl was like a walking trashcan, but hey Tatiana didn’t care. She felt his hand abruptly ruffle her golden blonde hair, it was a rather normal thing for her to experience when she came in contact with the male. Offering a friendly smile the girl went back to the figure of Lola who spoke once more.
"nuh uh, tata. if you can win, then i'll come down. but i'm not stupid enough to get caught between you and your burning desire for a pack of cigarettes." It was obvious that Tatiana likes her cigarettes after all. She was an addict from the age of seven years, possibly longer as her mom had smoke when she was a young girl, it is possible that Tatiana got addicted from second hand smoke to be honest. "hey, if you can win, then you can claim your prize. come on, dex, prove yourself worthy!" She was talking to Dexter this time and it was obvious that Tatiana would fight either of these two. She was a vicious creature, and hell she could use a pack of cigarettes. But there was one thing you learn in Badlands, why not kill the person and just take what you want, games are a waste of time.
Usually Tatiana would, she wouldn’t play this boring game, she’d throw a knife at the girl when she didn’t expect it and take the items from her. But today she’d play this stupid game. What could go wrong? Jamison was weak as hell, and Dexter was well her friend, crush, wanna be sibling, flirtbuddy? "jamison! if you want the scissors that bad, why don't you fight tat or dex? got nothing to lose – 'cept maybe another leg!"
Having Jamison around it would mean an easy win that wouldn’t take much energy, Dexter though that’ll be fun. He could stand a chance against Tatiana, but that means might as well take out the weakest first. "y'know sharin' is a thing, right?" Letting out a sigh the girl looked at Jamison, she wasn’t too far from him but she was closest to Dexter. Dexter could lift her up easily and throw her if he wanted, but Tat planned on having their little spar after Jamison was finished with. Examining this situation she didn’t want to go straight into Martial arts, after all her usual moves of Martial Arts work the best when she is being attacked. But that was her hand to hand combat usually, and she highly doubt Jamison would attack her so she was going to have to attack first.
The girl move slowly to Jamison, soon coming into what is known as the Red zone, an arms length away, anyone can land a blow on the other. With high agility and speed, the girls powerful right leg lifted into a high kick, she used all of her body force in order to do this, the thrust of her leg aiming to connect with what should be connection with the man's upper jaw up to his temple. If it made connection is so brutal that it felt like getting hit with a baseball bat when you aren’t looking. If he fell she’d quickly sit on what is his torso close to his hips and locking his legs with hers so he wouldn’t be able to get up, and then throw several blows to his face in order to try and knock him out. If he didn’t fall and was able to keep balance she’d see what move he planned to make. This is her domain of fighting, hand to hand combat she was great at, and she knew her expertise in the activity.
[spoiler=TAGS | UPDATED 1/29] GENERAL
✨ Tatiana Dogsworth | Tat | Cis Female (she/her)
✨ Scorpio / 17 years old / ages in real life time
✨ Badlands
✨ Warchief
✨ Spotify playlist ✨
NOTES
✨ Born in what would be Russia, her father was a mobster in what would be Russia, had moved too the Badlands area, her mother left several years ago and left her in the hands of some members of the group, what a terrific idea right.
✨ She is a sort of baddie, grunge, little rebellious teenager, she is one with beating people up, pure in her appearance though, frequently ignoring people.
✨ She has a thick Russian accent, that is slightly rough, dominating, but very interesting to listen too
✨ Smells of a cigarette smoke.
PHYSICAL
✨ Petite, 5' tall, pale, and a smol teenager.
✨ Chloe Mortez Grace
✨ Constantly wearing skirts or dresses
✨ Injuries: scratches and bruises
✨ Aliments: 80%
PERSONA
✨ ESTP | The Rebellious Teen | The Fighter | Chaotic Good
✨ Loyal, salty, fighter, strong, stubborn, and defensive
✨ Cocky, tricky, will fight you I fucking swear, hot headed
INVENTORY
✨ .44: 2
✨ A Colt Model 1873 Single-Action "New Model Army Metallic Cartridge Revolving Pistol"
✨ A switchblade knife
✨ Butterfly Knife
✨ Glass Knife
✨ Wasp Knife (one time use)
✨ 4 Throwing Knives
✨ Wooden Baseball Bat
✨ Two packs of gum
✨ Pack of cigarettes
✨ Water Canteen
✨ Lighter
RELATIONSHIPS
NPC X NPC
✨ Bisexual and Binromantic
✨ Single
✨ Friends:
✨ Crushes:
✨ Enemies:
INTERACTION
✨ dirty fighter, strong
✨ physically hard, and mentally medium
✨ skilled in martial arts, knife fighting, and a bit of gun play
✨ address in BOLD
✨ attack in #640000
✨ can powerplay nonviolent or peaceful gestures [/spoiler]
|
