» Wed Nov 24, 2010 6:52 am http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/3/37/WMATA_system_map.svg. We're at station Franconia-Springfield. Blue tracks, bottom left, Virginia.
http://www.gamesas.com/index.php?/topic/1093588-metro-2100-sign-up/
FOR THE SAKE OF THIS RP, ALL STATIONS ARE UNDERGROUND
Smevel, SpEcTrE.: The CS's will be accepted if you revise them.
The Comedian
Spoiler
Name: William Jeffery
Age: 23 Years
Gender: M
Race: White/Caucasian
Weapons:
-Pre-War Revolver with Stock/Optics/Silencer/Extended Barrel.
-Post-War Pump Revolver.
Equipment and Appearance:
-http://www.valhallaarmory.com/v/vspfiles/photos/37CL01-2T.jpg with three pouches for ammo and misc. items on the ground. Two pouches hanging down both sides for more ammo and bowie knife.
-http://www.proki.org/images/ultratwin2.jpg
-Black Cargo Pants w/ kevlar knee pads/side protection.
-Black rubber soled boots
Bio: I was just a newborn when my family fled underground. We weren't the only family staying the station at the time of the Great War, and when everyone figured out it wasn't safe to leave, our station turned into a civilization. We weren't the first ones to do this, however. All across the connected Stations of D.C., new towns started to emerge. Each with their own people, and ideology. All though no Stations were truly at peace with others, trade routes were what kept the Subway strong. Special guns were made in each Station, and were traded for goods all across the underground.
Food was scarce, sure, but there was just enough to keep everyone alive still. We bred and raised animals, and butchered them for gain. Some crops grew if we were lucky, and the artificial sun lamps didn't die out. Mankind was in the dark ages, but we all managed fantastic. Until They came. Mutants from above ground, The Unfortunate Ones. There were many kinds of them, all generally the same shape and size. Each one had different abilities, and effects on Humans.
I grew up under the rule of my father, who was one of the founders of the station. He taught my how to sight, in case one the Unfortunate Ones came. I was mostly a farmer and a butcher, however. Until one day, when They came. My dad was killed, along with almost half of the station's population. Many of the founders died that unfortunate day. By that time, I was fully grown, and full of stupid immaturity that made me want revenge and justice.
The attacks grew longer, and more violent. And the Founders of the station wanted something to be done.
Age: 23 Years
Gender: M
Race: White/Caucasian
Weapons:
-Pre-War Revolver with Stock/Optics/Silencer/Extended Barrel.
-Post-War Pump Revolver.
Equipment and Appearance:
-http://www.valhallaarmory.com/v/vspfiles/photos/37CL01-2T.jpg with three pouches for ammo and misc. items on the ground. Two pouches hanging down both sides for more ammo and bowie knife.
-http://www.proki.org/images/ultratwin2.jpg
-Black Cargo Pants w/ kevlar knee pads/side protection.
-Black rubber soled boots
Bio: I was just a newborn when my family fled underground. We weren't the only family staying the station at the time of the Great War, and when everyone figured out it wasn't safe to leave, our station turned into a civilization. We weren't the first ones to do this, however. All across the connected Stations of D.C., new towns started to emerge. Each with their own people, and ideology. All though no Stations were truly at peace with others, trade routes were what kept the Subway strong. Special guns were made in each Station, and were traded for goods all across the underground.
Food was scarce, sure, but there was just enough to keep everyone alive still. We bred and raised animals, and butchered them for gain. Some crops grew if we were lucky, and the artificial sun lamps didn't die out. Mankind was in the dark ages, but we all managed fantastic. Until They came. Mutants from above ground, The Unfortunate Ones. There were many kinds of them, all generally the same shape and size. Each one had different abilities, and effects on Humans.
I grew up under the rule of my father, who was one of the founders of the station. He taught my how to sight, in case one the Unfortunate Ones came. I was mostly a farmer and a butcher, however. Until one day, when They came. My dad was killed, along with almost half of the station's population. Many of the founders died that unfortunate day. By that time, I was fully grown, and full of stupid immaturity that made me want revenge and justice.
The attacks grew longer, and more violent. And the Founders of the station wanted something to be done.
Zollum
Spoiler
Name: Robert Ihabu
Age: 34
Gender: Maled
Race: Caucausian
Weapons: A simple rifle which has had alot of tinkering allowing for a larger magazine.
Equipment and Appearance: SWAT body armor grabbed before being forced underground and he is average height with long hair which he normally keeps tied up
Bio: He had been born in the poorer neighborhoods of town. Not everyone could be born lucky. He was only twelve when his father failed to return home. The police told his family they were investigating the murder but no murderer was ever found. Thus started his teenage hatred of the police. Robbing from stores which he knew to have surveillance, just to further annoy the police. One day him and his small gang were wandering the streets they came across a rich man obviously lost in the sprawling metropolis they snuck up behind him. Oscar put the knife to the mans neck but the man, rather than simply give him the money tried to scream. Oscar slit his throat. After a few weeks of keeping this secret he realized this must be what had happened to his father. He gave up his life of crime and tried to make an honest living.
He was accepted into a university and earned a degree in engineering. He lived the life he had often dreamed of rich and successful enough to support his mother into old age, it was a near perfect existence. Roberts was at the police station when the bombs fell. He had picked himself up a parking ticket. The sirens came on and he knew that this was the end of the world which the news had been slowly telling us of. He grabbed the nearest set of armor and a weapon and ran to where he had often thought safe in this event. The metro. Now he lives in a station with lots of people. But the man he watched die still haunts his dreams
Age: 34
Gender: Maled
Race: Caucausian
Weapons: A simple rifle which has had alot of tinkering allowing for a larger magazine.
Equipment and Appearance: SWAT body armor grabbed before being forced underground and he is average height with long hair which he normally keeps tied up
Bio: He had been born in the poorer neighborhoods of town. Not everyone could be born lucky. He was only twelve when his father failed to return home. The police told his family they were investigating the murder but no murderer was ever found. Thus started his teenage hatred of the police. Robbing from stores which he knew to have surveillance, just to further annoy the police. One day him and his small gang were wandering the streets they came across a rich man obviously lost in the sprawling metropolis they snuck up behind him. Oscar put the knife to the mans neck but the man, rather than simply give him the money tried to scream. Oscar slit his throat. After a few weeks of keeping this secret he realized this must be what had happened to his father. He gave up his life of crime and tried to make an honest living.
He was accepted into a university and earned a degree in engineering. He lived the life he had often dreamed of rich and successful enough to support his mother into old age, it was a near perfect existence. Roberts was at the police station when the bombs fell. He had picked himself up a parking ticket. The sirens came on and he knew that this was the end of the world which the news had been slowly telling us of. He grabbed the nearest set of armor and a weapon and ran to where he had often thought safe in this event. The metro. Now he lives in a station with lots of people. But the man he watched die still haunts his dreams
Adam of morrowind
Spoiler
Name: Jeremiah (no last name)
Nickname: Jerry
Age: 38
Gender: Male
Race: Human, Caucasian, American
Weapons: 44. Revolver (no scope)
Combat Knife, brass knuckles
Equipment: Gas mask, radiation suit (in messanger bag)
Appearence: hes 5 ft 11. black hair with few grey hairs, hair style is blast back (FO3) dark brown goatee. bright glowing green eyes) white skin, tannish complexion, slight muscular build, weighs 177 lbs.
Clothing: light black tinted aviators to cover his eyes,
his cowboy hat, http://www.nationalspatula.com/assets/cowboy%20hat.jpg
black dress pants, dark leather cowboy boots, red long sleeve button shirt, with sleeves rolled up, lightly dirty white beater shirt underneath red button shirt.
Misc:
his family Harmonica, http://www.silentrunningaudio.com/imagegallery/images/sourceimages/Harmonica-1-copy.jpg
his fingerstyle accoustic guitar, http://imnotfish.files.wordpress.com/2009/05/acoustic-guitar1.jpg
Rad-X, Rad-Away, stimpacks, ammo
Misc 2: he has a husky dog, his travelling companion, his dog's name is Daisy, and is black and brown with blue eyes.
Bio: Jeremiah was born without knowing his parents, they died when he was a baby but was took in my caring people, they died when he was a teenager, Jeremiah grew up on his own, carrying a 44. Revolver a family gave him and his fingerstyle guitar, he was also given a harmonica, saying it was his fathers and they found it in the ruins of a shack where they were killed. Jeremiah was exposed to radiation and is somewhat mutated, the only apparel mutation is his bright glowing green eyes he hides behind a pair of aviatiors. he self-taught himself some well-known songs from an old record player he found with some old records of folk songs. he is also good with a gun and knows how to keep himself alive, he lives alone in the metro tunnels, and lives somewhere among the tunnels, only carrying his bag of proper equipment he puts on when going to the surface and his guitar and harmonica and travels from town to town entertaining people. and he also found a puppy as a teenager he raised, unfortunately he had to put down its kin cuz it was mutated and luckily his dog wasnt the unlocky one, his dog is one of the unmutated dogs left in America. he Travels from metro settlement to settlement with his music and his dog, Daisy.
Nickname: Jerry
Age: 38
Gender: Male
Race: Human, Caucasian, American
Weapons: 44. Revolver (no scope)
Combat Knife, brass knuckles
Equipment: Gas mask, radiation suit (in messanger bag)
Appearence: hes 5 ft 11. black hair with few grey hairs, hair style is blast back (FO3) dark brown goatee. bright glowing green eyes) white skin, tannish complexion, slight muscular build, weighs 177 lbs.
Clothing: light black tinted aviators to cover his eyes,
his cowboy hat, http://www.nationalspatula.com/assets/cowboy%20hat.jpg
black dress pants, dark leather cowboy boots, red long sleeve button shirt, with sleeves rolled up, lightly dirty white beater shirt underneath red button shirt.
Misc:
his family Harmonica, http://www.silentrunningaudio.com/imagegallery/images/sourceimages/Harmonica-1-copy.jpg
his fingerstyle accoustic guitar, http://imnotfish.files.wordpress.com/2009/05/acoustic-guitar1.jpg
Rad-X, Rad-Away, stimpacks, ammo
Misc 2: he has a husky dog, his travelling companion, his dog's name is Daisy, and is black and brown with blue eyes.
Bio: Jeremiah was born without knowing his parents, they died when he was a baby but was took in my caring people, they died when he was a teenager, Jeremiah grew up on his own, carrying a 44. Revolver a family gave him and his fingerstyle guitar, he was also given a harmonica, saying it was his fathers and they found it in the ruins of a shack where they were killed. Jeremiah was exposed to radiation and is somewhat mutated, the only apparel mutation is his bright glowing green eyes he hides behind a pair of aviatiors. he self-taught himself some well-known songs from an old record player he found with some old records of folk songs. he is also good with a gun and knows how to keep himself alive, he lives alone in the metro tunnels, and lives somewhere among the tunnels, only carrying his bag of proper equipment he puts on when going to the surface and his guitar and harmonica and travels from town to town entertaining people. and he also found a puppy as a teenager he raised, unfortunately he had to put down its kin cuz it was mutated and luckily his dog wasnt the unlocky one, his dog is one of the unmutated dogs left in America. he Travels from metro settlement to settlement with his music and his dog, Daisy.
Daunte Benjamin
Spoiler
Name: Bennet Mahu
Age: 54
Gender: Male
Race: African-American
Weapons: http://www.leelofland.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2008/06/sawed-off-shotgun.jpg , http://www.snubnose.info/images/Model_19_snub.jpg
Equipment and Appearance: http://jasereraser.files.wordpress.com/2009/07/the_book_of_eli_denzel.jpg, http://www.eshopone.com/images/trench-coats/600/main-view.jpg , KhacKi pants
Bio: I don't really remember my life before the station. I came here by myself, seeking refuge, after I couldn't afford a spot in the vaults. Well, I do remember my past but I'd rather not recall it...Born in Trenton, New Jersey, Bennet's parents both worked for a small law firm, dealing with mostly civil cases. He lived a very boring life until his fifteenth year on this earth. His father was murdered in cold blood, when a former client that he failed to win a case for shot him in front of Bennet. The young Mahu witnessing the murder, vowed revenge on this "SOB". From that day, until 2077, when he had no further choice but to cower in the metro system of DC until the emergency had subsided. Now, he serves mainly a security role, protecting designated areas, and people's within the confines of the metro system.
Age: 54
Gender: Male
Race: African-American
Weapons: http://www.leelofland.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2008/06/sawed-off-shotgun.jpg , http://www.snubnose.info/images/Model_19_snub.jpg
Equipment and Appearance: http://jasereraser.files.wordpress.com/2009/07/the_book_of_eli_denzel.jpg, http://www.eshopone.com/images/trench-coats/600/main-view.jpg , KhacKi pants
Bio: I don't really remember my life before the station. I came here by myself, seeking refuge, after I couldn't afford a spot in the vaults. Well, I do remember my past but I'd rather not recall it...Born in Trenton, New Jersey, Bennet's parents both worked for a small law firm, dealing with mostly civil cases. He lived a very boring life until his fifteenth year on this earth. His father was murdered in cold blood, when a former client that he failed to win a case for shot him in front of Bennet. The young Mahu witnessing the murder, vowed revenge on this "SOB". From that day, until 2077, when he had no further choice but to cower in the metro system of DC until the emergency had subsided. Now, he serves mainly a security role, protecting designated areas, and people's within the confines of the metro system.
Fubb
Spoiler
Name: Austin 'Flower Child' Parker (Jr.)
Age: 25 Years
Gender: M
Race: White
Weapons:
-Pre-War 7.56 Assault Rifle (missing firing pin, etc, so It does not work)
-Post-War Pump Revolver
Home Station: Station 87
Equipment and Appearance:
-Appalachian Forest-Styled Camouflaged Kevlar Vest with Two pouches on the front for Ammunition
-Two-Filtered Gas Mask
-Appalachian Forest-Styled Camouflaged military suit (quite old) with side and briast pockets meant for rations and other field supplies, and 2 pockets on the pants for holding supplies, AS WELL as numerous pouches on the belt for supplies. There is a worn arm-brand on the left shoulder that says "87th V.R"
-Sturdy black military boots.
-Lighter
-Broken compass, Brass with a golden trim on the outside, and the initials "J.P" on it
-Dungy Silver Cigar Case, kept in one of the pants pockets, with old pre-war advertisemant of a cigar company, on the inside it is lined with velvet with 3 place holders for cigars, and a paper flap that reads a private memoir...
Bio: I was young when he fled under ground. My mother had kept me at home, as the sirens were whining, when my dad, a member of the West Virginia 87th Reserve and his platoon rolled into our neighbor hood. They had been put on alert, and were now in the process of evacuating Washington. Sadly, we didn't have enough time to flee the city, and the soldiers of the 87th sent everyone under ground just as the first air-burst went off, probably a few miles away, which caused the tunnel entrance to cave in and made a few soldiers get stuck above ground, but for the most part, a few civilians and a few of the 87th made it, and we established out living in the DC Metro.
As one could expect, the initial post-war days was followed with shock, death, and crime, but the 87th had cleared our area.
A few years ago, probably 3 or 4 now, my father was killed in an attack on our station, and I inherited his worn 87th reserve gear, and the last thing they retrieved from his body, and old compass with "James Parker", or atleast, J.P inscribed on it...I also got his now destroyed Assault Rifle, from before the war too, but it's not going to do me much good at all...From there, I often stuck with his best friend from both pre and post war, Daniel Webster, but sadly, he was killed in an attack about a month ago. Now it's just me and my slowly aging mother.
The station is falling apart. Rations are low, and ammunition is scarce. Most of the older 87th originals are getting too old to fight, and the young people replacing them are too immature and stupid. That Station (now called "Station 87") is in dire straights, and I fear for what might become of us in the future...
Age: 25 Years
Gender: M
Race: White
Weapons:
-Pre-War 7.56 Assault Rifle (missing firing pin, etc, so It does not work)
-Post-War Pump Revolver
Home Station: Station 87
Equipment and Appearance:
-Appalachian Forest-Styled Camouflaged Kevlar Vest with Two pouches on the front for Ammunition
-Two-Filtered Gas Mask
-Appalachian Forest-Styled Camouflaged military suit (quite old) with side and briast pockets meant for rations and other field supplies, and 2 pockets on the pants for holding supplies, AS WELL as numerous pouches on the belt for supplies. There is a worn arm-brand on the left shoulder that says "87th V.R"
-Sturdy black military boots.
-Lighter
-Broken compass, Brass with a golden trim on the outside, and the initials "J.P" on it
-Dungy Silver Cigar Case, kept in one of the pants pockets, with old pre-war advertisemant of a cigar company, on the inside it is lined with velvet with 3 place holders for cigars, and a paper flap that reads a private memoir...
Bio: I was young when he fled under ground. My mother had kept me at home, as the sirens were whining, when my dad, a member of the West Virginia 87th Reserve and his platoon rolled into our neighbor hood. They had been put on alert, and were now in the process of evacuating Washington. Sadly, we didn't have enough time to flee the city, and the soldiers of the 87th sent everyone under ground just as the first air-burst went off, probably a few miles away, which caused the tunnel entrance to cave in and made a few soldiers get stuck above ground, but for the most part, a few civilians and a few of the 87th made it, and we established out living in the DC Metro.
As one could expect, the initial post-war days was followed with shock, death, and crime, but the 87th had cleared our area.
A few years ago, probably 3 or 4 now, my father was killed in an attack on our station, and I inherited his worn 87th reserve gear, and the last thing they retrieved from his body, and old compass with "James Parker", or atleast, J.P inscribed on it...I also got his now destroyed Assault Rifle, from before the war too, but it's not going to do me much good at all...From there, I often stuck with his best friend from both pre and post war, Daniel Webster, but sadly, he was killed in an attack about a month ago. Now it's just me and my slowly aging mother.
The station is falling apart. Rations are low, and ammunition is scarce. Most of the older 87th originals are getting too old to fight, and the young people replacing them are too immature and stupid. That Station (now called "Station 87") is in dire straights, and I fear for what might become of us in the future...
MrSmileySmile
Spoiler
Age: 26 Years
Gender: M
Race: White/Caucasian
Weapons:
-Pre-War .300 Savage Rifle
-Pre-War Pump Revolver - Currently broken, but it makes a good bludgeon...come to think of it that may be why it's broken.
Equipment and Appearance:
-Two-Filtered Gas Mask
-Beige Cargo Pants w/ basic knee pants worn on the outside and deep pockets.
-Black rubber soled boots
-Bandana
Bio: When my family fled underground I was three years old. To this day I only have the most fleeting of memories of the surface. These memories can pretty much be summed up with two words, happy and blue. I remember my dad's smile, my mother's laugh, and blue skies smiling at me. Nothing but blue skies did I see. Sometimes I wonder if I'm imaging those days. I try not to dwell on it, imagination or not the thoughts are comforting.
Before the Great War my family had money, lots of it. Clearly not enough to buy our way into a Vault, but enough to live quite comfortably. Enough money that my parents just couldn't adapt to this new life underground. I suppose my parents were a bit elitist, probably racist as well, but I loved them. Going from high positions in law and entertainment, my father and mother respectively, to working under artificial sun lamps for hours did not suit them. There was little need for complicated legislation writing or acting underground, what was needed was food, food and protection.
My mother overdosed on some pain killers when I was 7, at least she died happy. Her death shattered my father and four years later he took his own life. A patrol found his body in one of the smaller tunnels connecting to our settlement. I try to remember them as they were above ground, I try to pull more scenes from my memory, but it's still little more than blue skies, a smile, and laughter. With my parents gone the community adopted me, this life too was no fairy tale. With no specific caretakers I became a helping hand to most of the families. I worked very hard for many years, some of the families treated me like a slave while others treated me as one of their own. I suppose that is the way of the world.
They came shortly after I had grown into a man. That is how I identify the time that I became a man. The day I helped collect the casualties of the first attack. In the years since I have spent my spare time learning to shoot. I'm no sharp shooter but I get by. I've always found a way to get by.
Gender: M
Race: White/Caucasian
Weapons:
-Pre-War .300 Savage Rifle
-Pre-War Pump Revolver - Currently broken, but it makes a good bludgeon...come to think of it that may be why it's broken.
Equipment and Appearance:
-Two-Filtered Gas Mask
-Beige Cargo Pants w/ basic knee pants worn on the outside and deep pockets.
-Black rubber soled boots
-Bandana
Bio: When my family fled underground I was three years old. To this day I only have the most fleeting of memories of the surface. These memories can pretty much be summed up with two words, happy and blue. I remember my dad's smile, my mother's laugh, and blue skies smiling at me. Nothing but blue skies did I see. Sometimes I wonder if I'm imaging those days. I try not to dwell on it, imagination or not the thoughts are comforting.
Before the Great War my family had money, lots of it. Clearly not enough to buy our way into a Vault, but enough to live quite comfortably. Enough money that my parents just couldn't adapt to this new life underground. I suppose my parents were a bit elitist, probably racist as well, but I loved them. Going from high positions in law and entertainment, my father and mother respectively, to working under artificial sun lamps for hours did not suit them. There was little need for complicated legislation writing or acting underground, what was needed was food, food and protection.
My mother overdosed on some pain killers when I was 7, at least she died happy. Her death shattered my father and four years later he took his own life. A patrol found his body in one of the smaller tunnels connecting to our settlement. I try to remember them as they were above ground, I try to pull more scenes from my memory, but it's still little more than blue skies, a smile, and laughter. With my parents gone the community adopted me, this life too was no fairy tale. With no specific caretakers I became a helping hand to most of the families. I worked very hard for many years, some of the families treated me like a slave while others treated me as one of their own. I suppose that is the way of the world.
They came shortly after I had grown into a man. That is how I identify the time that I became a man. The day I helped collect the casualties of the first attack. In the years since I have spent my spare time learning to shoot. I'm no sharp shooter but I get by. I've always found a way to get by.
Last Best Hope of Humanity
Spoiler
Name: Isaac Mercer
Age: 25
Gender: Male
Race: Human, Caucasian.
Weapons:
- AK-47.
- http://krutonblog.files.wordpress.com/2008/10/browning20hi20power20p35209mm20pistol.jpg.
Appearance:
- Body type: Slender/Athletic.
- Height: 5'11"
- Eyes: Very light blue.
- Facial Features: Clear, clean shaven, and pretty attractive.
- Hair: Dark brown, straight, and medium length, grown to about halfway down his neck.
Equipment/Clothing:
- A white v-neck t-shirt.
- A pair of http://media.topman.com/wcsstore/TopMan//images/catalog/69S17SBLK_normal.jpg.
- A pair of grey, tattered Chuck Taylor's converse.
- http://www.jesseshunting.com/images/gas-mask-avon-m10%20NBC-british-front.jpg.
Bio: I was only two years old when the unforgettable wails of the sirens flooded the streets of D.C. The lifeless trampled corpses of men, women and children alike sprawled the crowded streets and sidewalks. I'd never seen such a disaster in my life. But then again, my life had only spanned two years at that time. By now, those sights would be welcomed to replace the things I see in the tunnels, every day. But that's a different story.
My uncle was the one who rescued me from the hellish wasteland that lies above these treacherous tunnels. I've never had the displeasure to get to know my father, nor my mother. At a very young age, my uncle took me in, considering the fact that my mother and father couldn't take care of the result of their careless actions.
When my uncle and I fled into the metro, our last resort to escape the unfolding disaster above ground, we saw that we weren't the only ones with the idea of taking refuge down here. At the time that we arrived, there were probably only about 20 people in our station from what we could see, all huddled in corners, surrounded by the multitude of supplies they'd carried underground. My uncle and I found a good place to rest, and sat down, awaiting the hour in which our lives would change forever.
When the time came, I had already fallen asleep, and miraculously, I didn't even wake up when the entire metro system shook, and each and every light in the tunnels was either shattered, or defused by the EMP. That's about all I remember, and all my uncle told me.
Currently, I work as a courier, delivering messages or packages from station to station. I've been doing so since I was about 14 years old. Believe me, it's a lot more exciting than it sounds. It's definitely been a learning experiences for me. Basically, the only things I've learned down here, I've taught myself. Running, climbing, hiding, shooting, even reading and writing. Each and every skill I've learned has been put to good use. Let's just hope I survive long enough to teach myself some common sense.
Age: 25
Gender: Male
Race: Human, Caucasian.
Weapons:
- AK-47.
- http://krutonblog.files.wordpress.com/2008/10/browning20hi20power20p35209mm20pistol.jpg.
Appearance:
- Body type: Slender/Athletic.
- Height: 5'11"
- Eyes: Very light blue.
- Facial Features: Clear, clean shaven, and pretty attractive.
- Hair: Dark brown, straight, and medium length, grown to about halfway down his neck.
Equipment/Clothing:
- A white v-neck t-shirt.
- A pair of http://media.topman.com/wcsstore/TopMan//images/catalog/69S17SBLK_normal.jpg.
- A pair of grey, tattered Chuck Taylor's converse.
- http://www.jesseshunting.com/images/gas-mask-avon-m10%20NBC-british-front.jpg.
Bio: I was only two years old when the unforgettable wails of the sirens flooded the streets of D.C. The lifeless trampled corpses of men, women and children alike sprawled the crowded streets and sidewalks. I'd never seen such a disaster in my life. But then again, my life had only spanned two years at that time. By now, those sights would be welcomed to replace the things I see in the tunnels, every day. But that's a different story.
My uncle was the one who rescued me from the hellish wasteland that lies above these treacherous tunnels. I've never had the displeasure to get to know my father, nor my mother. At a very young age, my uncle took me in, considering the fact that my mother and father couldn't take care of the result of their careless actions.
When my uncle and I fled into the metro, our last resort to escape the unfolding disaster above ground, we saw that we weren't the only ones with the idea of taking refuge down here. At the time that we arrived, there were probably only about 20 people in our station from what we could see, all huddled in corners, surrounded by the multitude of supplies they'd carried underground. My uncle and I found a good place to rest, and sat down, awaiting the hour in which our lives would change forever.
When the time came, I had already fallen asleep, and miraculously, I didn't even wake up when the entire metro system shook, and each and every light in the tunnels was either shattered, or defused by the EMP. That's about all I remember, and all my uncle told me.
Currently, I work as a courier, delivering messages or packages from station to station. I've been doing so since I was about 14 years old. Believe me, it's a lot more exciting than it sounds. It's definitely been a learning experiences for me. Basically, the only things I've learned down here, I've taught myself. Running, climbing, hiding, shooting, even reading and writing. Each and every skill I've learned has been put to good use. Let's just hope I survive long enough to teach myself some common sense.
Ant1iv3
Spoiler
Name: Jerry 'Moonshine' Irving
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Race: Human, Native American
Weapons: Hunting Rifle w/ Scope, No pistol
Special Weapon: http://www.crossbowcountry.com/contents/media/legend.jpg w/ http://www.diamondarchery.com/images/Quiver_1pc5arr_DMD10.png (x20) and http://www.nativeartstrading.com/images/Tomahawk9.jpg
Appearance: 6'0, slender, ripped, short mow-hawk, steel gray eyes
Uniform: Standard
Bio: Jerry was originally named Moonshine by his mother when he was born. The reason being he was born above ground at midnight. His father gave his life to make sure little Jerry and his mother would make it underground. Jerry wouldn't have survived if it hadn't been for his father's gas mask. As he grew up, his mother taught him the ways of his people. She taught him how to shoot a crossbow, and throw a tomahawk with deadly accuracy, but she couldn't not teach him the ways of today. Jerry had to teach himself how to use a modern weapon.
Over the course of Jerry's life his was quickly exposed to the way things were underground. At the age of four-teen he killed his first monster. He also had to help him mother out around the house, so he knows enough about cooking. In addition he has met a squad of soldiers before while he was scavenging. The conversation was brief and ended abruptly with screams. Accompanied by the soldiers, he left back home to find that his mother was killed, but he didn't weep...for he knew grieving wouldn't bring her back. So, that night he gathered his belongings: his father's weapons and armor, his mothers necklace, and a heavy heart. Then he headed out with the soldiers to a nearby encampment, hoping he could find solace from the cruel world of the Metro.
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Race: Human, Native American
Weapons: Hunting Rifle w/ Scope, No pistol
Special Weapon: http://www.crossbowcountry.com/contents/media/legend.jpg w/ http://www.diamondarchery.com/images/Quiver_1pc5arr_DMD10.png (x20) and http://www.nativeartstrading.com/images/Tomahawk9.jpg
Appearance: 6'0, slender, ripped, short mow-hawk, steel gray eyes
Uniform: Standard
Bio: Jerry was originally named Moonshine by his mother when he was born. The reason being he was born above ground at midnight. His father gave his life to make sure little Jerry and his mother would make it underground. Jerry wouldn't have survived if it hadn't been for his father's gas mask. As he grew up, his mother taught him the ways of his people. She taught him how to shoot a crossbow, and throw a tomahawk with deadly accuracy, but she couldn't not teach him the ways of today. Jerry had to teach himself how to use a modern weapon.
Over the course of Jerry's life his was quickly exposed to the way things were underground. At the age of four-teen he killed his first monster. He also had to help him mother out around the house, so he knows enough about cooking. In addition he has met a squad of soldiers before while he was scavenging. The conversation was brief and ended abruptly with screams. Accompanied by the soldiers, he left back home to find that his mother was killed, but he didn't weep...for he knew grieving wouldn't bring her back. So, that night he gathered his belongings: his father's weapons and armor, his mothers necklace, and a heavy heart. Then he headed out with the soldiers to a nearby encampment, hoping he could find solace from the cruel world of the Metro.
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Additional Info (thank you very much, DarthRavanger)
Spoiler
http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/3/37/WMATA_system_map.svg
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Washington_DC_Metro_Map_%28To_Scale%29.svg
http://www.wmata.com/rail/maps/map.cfm
Now for some other stuff:
Arlington Cemetery is an above-ground station. The Yellow line has an above-ground bridge crossing the potomac. The Green-line, I think that has a bridge as well between Navy Yard and Anacostia. Once your out of D.C, Most of the southern half (that's outside D.C) of the Green line is above ground stations with a mixture of tunnels and bridges. In fact, once you leave D.C itself, the Metro system starts making use of above-ground stations and bridges.
Other tidbits:
The D.C armory is near the Stadium-armory station.
The Smithsonian metro is right on the National Mall, right by the museums.
Metro's basically consist of two floors, an upper platform where you can put money on a ticket stub, and a lower floor where the train tracks actually are. (This upper area may be in the same chamber as the tracks or not, depends on which station your in) Also, most of the metros have an elevator to the surface. Tracks may also be in the middle of the chamber or at the sides. Depends on what station your in.
A couple of the metro's, like pentagon city and Crystal city, connect to larger complexes. Specifically, a mall in Pentagon city's case; and a mostly underground series of tunnels, with shops inside and office buildings accessible by elevators and the like in crystal city's case.
http://soulofamerica.com/soagalleries/dc/trans/DC-Metro_train.jpg
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Washington_DC_Metro_Map_%28To_Scale%29.svg
http://www.wmata.com/rail/maps/map.cfm
Now for some other stuff:
Arlington Cemetery is an above-ground station. The Yellow line has an above-ground bridge crossing the potomac. The Green-line, I think that has a bridge as well between Navy Yard and Anacostia. Once your out of D.C, Most of the southern half (that's outside D.C) of the Green line is above ground stations with a mixture of tunnels and bridges. In fact, once you leave D.C itself, the Metro system starts making use of above-ground stations and bridges.
Other tidbits:
The D.C armory is near the Stadium-armory station.
The Smithsonian metro is right on the National Mall, right by the museums.
Metro's basically consist of two floors, an upper platform where you can put money on a ticket stub, and a lower floor where the train tracks actually are. (This upper area may be in the same chamber as the tracks or not, depends on which station your in) Also, most of the metros have an elevator to the surface. Tracks may also be in the middle of the chamber or at the sides. Depends on what station your in.
A couple of the metro's, like pentagon city and Crystal city, connect to larger complexes. Specifically, a mall in Pentagon city's case; and a mostly underground series of tunnels, with shops inside and office buildings accessible by elevators and the like in crystal city's case.
http://soulofamerica.com/soagalleries/dc/trans/DC-Metro_train.jpg
Station Pictures (To give you an idea of where we all live)
http://www.psu.com/media/metro-2033-the-last-refuge/metro-2033-the-last-refuge-ss-9.jpg
http://scrawlfx.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/10/metro-2033-announced-360-pc.jpg
http://www.blogcdn.com/www.joystiq.com/media/2009/11/metro2033-2009-10-05-20-10-40-68-1132009-580px.jpg
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My Post...
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It's been two weeks since Their last attack. More than half of the population was killed, and more people are dying everyday from injuries and sickness. It's been a while since The Unfortunate Ones last attacked us, but we can all feel like they're just plotting their final wave to kill us all. Lucky for us there was a majority if men left, with women being the dying gender. The more men meant the more fighters, and the longer we could try to survive.
I was in charge of the war party. My dad was the previous leader, but was killed while fighting Them. The way the system works, is that the first born son takes over. And that was me. But I needed fighters. I needed anybody who was willing to hold ground with me.
I sat in the council room. It was a small room. With a single, small desk in the middle. The council leader - the original founder of the station town - sat at the desk, massaging his temples. He groaned, then looked at the rest of the council members. I was the only one who wasn't an original member. I was surrounded by nothing but older men who rarely fought. They all preferred to hide in their room, not even with the women or children.
The leader finally spoke, he cleared his throat, "As everyone here knows, we've got a problem. The chances of our survival are very slim..." He pushed out from his desk, then stood up, "The Unfortunates are growing stronger. Their numbers are growing at an alarming rate. All the while, we just get smaller. Our station is running out of defense, and with the recent replacement of War Councilman Toby Jeffery, we're stuck with a newbie."
I interrupted, "What makes you think I can't fight? Or lead?"
The chairman ignored me. "I'm calling a meeting in the main atrium with all of the survivors. Don't bother the nurses or doctors, they need to take care of the sick and hurt." He looked at me, "Councilman William Jeffery, I've no doubt that you can fight, but I'm skeptical as to whether or not you can lead. Prove it, by getting new recruits for the fight. The meeting is being held in just a few hours. Make a speech." The man moved back to his chair, and sat down. "Everyone, out of my office."
Three Hours Later - The entire station is standing in the Atrium.
A heavily armed soldier stood on top of a stage, in front of a stand with a microphone. "Everyone, War Councilman William Jeffery." He backed off, and I stood up, without planned speech.
I cleared my throat, and stared nervously at the people of the metro station. "Everybody... Most of you should know that I replaced my dad in being the leader of the war party. Some of you may not have faith in me, but I consider myself a stronger, younger version of my father. It's my job to make sure we fight back, and succeed against The Unfortunate Ones.
"We need new recruits, people. We need a party that's willing to stand their ground with me. The way I see it, we have two options: We flee the station above ground, and freeze to death up top, or we stay here and fight until we die or until we get help. We can win this fight, everyone, as long as you all agree with me.
"Women are acceptable to fight, but we don't encourage it. If you have a child, then we will not allow you to fight; not even men. Please, everybody, this is a team effort. Without all of you, there will be none of us. That's everything I have to say. It's all up to you. See me at the Armory if any of you wish to fight. You'll be fitted as soon as you're cleared to fight."
With that, I left. The Chairman patted me on the back with a weak smile, and I walked to the Armory, waiting for anyone willing to fight.
