[-]You've never heard of their Family -- they're probably presumed dead--
[9-5] You try to pacify him with your willpower, but your hunger, exhaustion, and bloodloss gets the better of you-- you see stars and stumble. He twitches, but doesn't fire-- and his eyes widen. "SEED have mercy, I didn't wing you-- holy [hell]." He doesn't lower the weapon, keeping it fixed on you as you peel your helmet off and let it tumble from your fingers. You try to give him a pleasant smile but it probably comes off more like a grimace.
[16] "SEED have mercy I shot Alphira--" He lowers the gun, calling out to someone else in the house to fetch vodka and bandages. You stumble into his hands and he drags you into the former living room, pushing you face down on a couch. He peels away the shattered armor, delicately setting it to one side. Everything blurs for a minute -- until pain awakens you as he presses the vodka soaked bandage to your ruptured back. "Shit-- shit.." He repeats, stemming the flow of blood.
"Food. I need-- I need food. Please." You mumble into the couch cushions. You're glad you have an amazing immune system, otherwise you might get an infection from this. A few minutes later, the frantic man is feeding you pieces of dusty nutrient cubes haphazardly chunked into water. Your stomach stops aching after a few bowls and you focus your scattered willpower to healing.
[20-3] Its an effort, but you manage to seal the wound on your back shut for now, and relax into the couch. You rest for an hour, quietly, recovering your strength. You shift forward, rising from your prone position -- the Caltrop man is sitting across from you, eyes full of concern, knuckles white as he kneads his fingers in on themselves.
You give him a crooked smile, slowly sitting up.
"I thought you were a bandit -- or an Infected. I--I didn't think. I'm sorry. Are you going to be okay?" Besides for a faint ache from minor muscle damage, you feel fine. "I've had my little brother draw up a bath for you -- it ain't hot, but we ain't got much in the way of power. Enough to keep some lights on and our water purifier running. I'm Fredrick Caltrop. It's a pleasure to meet you." He pauses, "Now, I know I'm not much of a position to ask this -- but you were mumbling something about a fortress or something nearby? Could me and him take shelter there? We ain't got anything to trade..." There's another nervous pause as he wrings his fingers, "But we're running out of hydrogen."
Your stomach protests as you slowly peel off your armor and set it on the rustic coffee table in front of you, stripping down to your underlay with mechanical, practiced movements. "Yeah. Don't worry. I'll send someone to evac you once I get back." You promise, without a thought, and Fred slumps with relief. The light in the room is dim, but you take a look at the man. He's in that awkward area between a man's teens and thirties. Tall, lanky, a shock of golden hair with brown eyes and pale, tanned skin. He looks a little drawn, but considering the literal apocalypse outside the manor's doors, you could give him a break.
"T-thank you, Alphira." He stammers.
"Could you get me some more food?" You bluntly question, rising.
"Of course -- I've got some beans and grain I've been saving. I'll cook you up something-- It'll be ready when your bath is ready." He ducks his head politely, still wringing his fingers nervously. "Yo-you're awfully accepting of people shooting you."
"I've been shot a lot. I'm starting to think it's the standard greeting on this planet."
"What?"
You wave him off as a youth calls from somewhere upstairs. Fred gives another nod and takes his leave. You follow the young voice, and find a well-appointed bathroom. It isn't as ornate or modern as the Thornton's, consisting only of a bath, a latrine, and a sink, all made out of what looks to be plastic. The youth looks like a carbon copy of his brother, down to the mannerisms. He dips his head and hurries out, and, as soon as you lock the door, you sink into the freezing waters of the tub. It doesn't take you long to wash away the blood and grime of the day, and by the end of it, the water is a faint grey.
There's a knock at the door-- "I've left clothes for you. We look the same height and I figure you'd want to clean your armor and such." Fred calls, and his footsteps recede. You rise, snatching the clothes and dry towel -- everything smells of mold and must, but its better than the acrid chemical smell of the Infection. You pull on the long sleeves and heavy coat, leaving your underlay where it lay as the tub drains with rough, uneven gurgles.
I get shot by nice people too often. I'm starting to think it's a character flaw.The kitchen is grimy. Trash litters many of the surfaces, bowls and plates clutter the sinks, half-empty alcohol bottles cover the counter-tops. There's a pot of a soupy grain and bean mash on the table, steaming hot and smelling of [juniper] and [rosemary]. You can just tell its going to be salty. But Fred is playing the gracious host. There's clean cutlery on the table, and he insists on serving his guest first. While all the cups have caked on mold, he has a bottle of a vintage wine sitting beside your bowl.
With a sharp nudge of his finger, he jabs his little brother in the side. "Manners -- we're Family-folk. Introduce yourself!"
"Hello Mother Alphira -- I'm Timothy..." The youth gets another nudge in the side, "I'm Timothy Caltrop."
Fred gives a nod, giving you a placating smile as he bows his head and murmurs a prayer to SEED. You're tempted to interrupt but play along, ignoring the grumbling of your stomach. You were right, however, there is way too much salt in this, and way too many herbs. But its warm, and filling, and sticks to your bones against the cold of the night, so you pay him a compliment. By the time the three of you finish with the pot, half of your bottle is empty.
"Do--well, what brought you out here?" Fred questions. "I-I heard you had wings. I didn't expect you to walk, to be truthful. I'm glad you did, don't get me wrong. But it's dangerous out there. Looters and Infected. I've seen things stalking through the fields -- like Hounds, but worse. Seeing more and more of them, too."
You are Pheobe Gainer and Pheonix
Local Time: [0100] 12/27/2011
Personal Time: 6 months
Empyreal Time: NO NETWORK CONNECTION.
You are missing your left arm.
Laterally, across your chest, is an ugly scar.
Cohesion: 60%
You are satiated.
You are tired.
Over Torso: A gray peacoat.
On Torso: An ill-fitting white shirt.
On Legs: Faded blue canvas pants.
On Feet: White, woolen socks.
Max Willpower Linear Distance: [20 meters]
Max Willpower Diameter: [20 meters]Overload: Trained
Bird of Sol's Reign: Great
Conquerer's Aura: Initiated
-
Voice of the Queen: Initiated
Inferno : Great
-
Slayer's Blade : Initiated
-
Controlled Fusion Reaction : Initiated
-
Uncontrolled Fusion Reaction : Initiated
Healing Factor: Initiated
-
Endurance Boost: Amateur.
-
Strength Boost: Amateur.
Matter Manipulation: Silicon:: Skilled
-
Silicon Sunder: Novice
Skill:
Charisma: Apprentice
Skill:
Attrition Warfare: Apprentice
Skill:
Marksmanship: Proficient
Cephie Lavoisier's Verbal Oath Grandmother(adopted): Mother Nicole Gainer
--Contactable in Person
--High Influence with Scholars, Crusaders, the Thornton Family
Ruled Nation: Pheonix's Holy Fortress-State
A dominant power on McCreary's Planet, despite its recent foundation. Currently pursuing a policy of aggressive reclamation.
-Ruled by a council, headed by yourself.
-Theocratic Dictatorship
-The citizens revere you as their new God.
Organization: The Children of SEED
Ten individuals, with the minds of automata and the bodies of men and women. Their very presence grates on your nerves.
--Contactable in person, or by radio.
Organization: The Thornton Family
--Contactable through Emma, radio.
--High Influence within Steelworks 9 Region
--Subservient to you
Organization: Thornton Warmachine
--A complement of hulking Thornton soldiers turned into cybernetically augmented heavy-duty infantry. Equipped with fusion reactor based las-gun assault rifles, Inferno Shotguns, super thick armor, and technicians standing by. They are also equipped with inter and intra-squad radio communicators.
--Lead by William Thornton
Servant, Friend?: Cephie Laviosier.
--An Ascended under contract to you for the next twelve years. She manipulates carbon and carbon based structures.
--Contactable in person, or by radio.
Ally, Subservient: William Thornton
Leader of the Thornton Family of Businessmen.
--Contactable in person, or by radio.
--High influence within the Thornton Mercenaries
--High influence within The Thornton Family
--Feared within Steelworks 9 Region
*Coordinating Thornton Family Evacuation*
Personal Scientist, Ally: Silas Thornton
--High influence within The Thornton Family
Consort: Emma Thornton
--Contactable in person, or by radio.
--High influence within The Thornton Family
*Coordinating Thornton Family Evacuation*
Pet, Threat: Mitch, the Barker
A bristly furred, stubby faced hellion of a canine that will possibly mutate in the future. His fur is a rusty red, mixed with brownish gray. His eyes are starting to be tinged with bright, electric blue.
-10/50 Obedience
-?/50 Affection
-5/50 Respect
Pheonix's Fortress-State (McCreary's Planet)
Theocractic Dictactorship
Capital: Fortress City of Stormmont
Population: 1.2*10^6
Military: One (1) Corps of Active Duty Hover Craft Deployed Crusaders (Baseline, Mark 1, Hardened){Stationed in Stormmont, Fortified}
Three (3) Corps of Active Duty Defense Militias (Baseline, Mark .5){Stationed in Steelworks 4, 5, 6, 7. Farmland 1, Fortified}
One (1) Corps of Active Duty Hover Craft Deployed Crusaders (Baseline, Mark 1, Hardened){Stationed in Steelworks Region 4-7, Fortified}
One (1) Corps Reserve Crusaders (Baseline, Mark 1, Underequipped){Stationed in Stormmont, Fortified}
One (1) Company of Thornton Warmachines (Baseline, Mark ~1, Hardened Veterans){Currently Fighting in Steelworks Number Nine}
Commodities of Note: Nutrient Bar Rations [Food Stuffs] (equilibrium), Hydrogen Fuel Supplies (deficit), Medical Supplies (equilibrium), Consumer Goods (deficit), Electronics (deficit), Steel (equilibrium), Bioplastics (deficit), Chemicals (surplus), Luxury goods (low deficit), Alchoholic Beverages (surplus)
Quality of life: Food, clean water, lighting, sanitation, universal literacy, universal healthcare, universal higher education, lack of culture, lack of luxury, religious restrictions, and lack of universal rights
Population Morale: Medium
Government Legitimacy: Moderate.
Economy: Non-existant, survival focus
Territories: Steelworks 4, 5, 6, 7. Farmland 1
Ethnic Groups of Note: Thornton Family Group (Unified, Loyal, Criminal), Sandsper Family Group (Unified, ? ? ?), Hoganson Family Group (Unified, Remnants), Western Outlanders (Remnants, ? ? ?), Eastern Outlanders (Fifteen Clans, ? ? ?)
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Topic: McCreary's Planet -- (FINISHED) (Read 240354 times)