|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Azalea Verde Vice Captain
|
Posted: Tue Dec 20, 2005 3:59 pm
Atlanta, The Confederated American States
For over a century, the southern way of life has been the controversial laughing-stock of Northern U.S. society. Even after the northern victory of the civil war, the Confederacy has remained in the hearts of those who dwelled in southern states. Their way of life, their mindsets, and their stubborn racism lasted clear through to the Awakening. Even in the 21st century, the Confederate flag could be seen on belt buckles and T-shirts across Southern America. Though slavery was abolished, the southern form of pseudo-christianity remained, continuing to invoke thoughts of supperiority and nationalism. After the Awakening, and the resources spent defending the U.S. against the NAN, the time seemed ripe for another revolution. Generations later, the CAS has established a foothold over the Southern states, and has become a center for Humanism, the racist ideals which present Humans as higher entities than Metahumans. The CAS is infested with outlaws and revolutionaries, anarchists, fascists, and military, all of which raise a wobbly glass to their beloved Confederate flag.
Players who begin in Atlanta will be surrounded by raucous bars and shifty taverns, as well as a close-knit society built on religous morals. A bit of a conundrum, eh? Players native to the confederate lifestyle usually posess an easy manner and immense charisma. Atlanta's musical society is built upon rock, country, gospel, and other western styles of music, and at almost every inn or tavern, one can find the beautiful voice of a southern blonde, or the bass yodel of a bluegrass cowboy.
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Dec 25, 2005 1:59 pm
"Get out of here you monsterous freak!" One voice shouted in the large crowd of poeple which semi-circled around Rintala, effectivly backing her into a wall. "We don't want your kind here, monster!" A woman shouted, shaking a large wooden cludgle. An amused thought came to Rintala, even as fear gripped her body, did that woman really think that a tiny little thing like that would harm her? A man, holding an axe, stepped infront of the ground and spat at Shantrak. "Ugly brute! Get outa here, or I'll peel yer hide!" The crowd roared it's approval, though doubtful any of them would actually help that lone man had Shantrak decided to actually fight back.
Backing until she hit a wall, Shantrak gently felt against the wall for something. A door or a window, something she could use to escape the angry mob. "Go away," Her deep voice rumbled despite being a woman, "I don't want any trouble, just leave me alone!" The last part came out more of a snarl and a growl then a plea. That sparked even more hostility in the crowd, "Then get outa here, you mutant!" Again the chours of hostility berrated her, someone in the crowd threw a stone that pegged Rintala in the face.
Roaring loudly she shielded herself as someone else took up a stone and hurled it at her. The rocks flew, pelting her face, shoulders, arms and chest. She didn't want to fight, she didn't want to hurt anyone, but they left her no choice in the matter. She HAD to defend herself!
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Dec 25, 2005 2:08 pm
A tear ran down her disfigured face, dropping off her snout, as she roared in dismay. Hurling herself at the crowd she scooped the man with the axe off his feet and hurled him over the heads of the rest of the people, throwing him through a window. The people screamed, some running back while the others charged at the mutant in their midst. Someone jumped on Shantrak's back, pounding the side of her face with a hammer. Pain doubled her vision as she basicly bucked the person off her back, throwing him against a wall where she slammed her over sized fist beside his head. The wall cracked and crumbled, burrying the man in stones. Someone had a spear and jabbed Shantrak in the back. Roaring out, yet again, she spun, snapping the spear in half, and back handed the fool upside the head. He went flying into a nearby tavern, crashing through the wall. Even if he hadn't hit the wall his face had just been smashed in and it was highly unlikely that he would have survive.
Someone, not exactly sure who, had pulled a gun and fired at Rintala. Despite her thick, leathery, skin the bullet punctured her flesh and blood sprayed outwards. Roaring in pain she fled, plowing through a wall using her shoulder and thick skull like a battering ram. The wall gave out as easily as if Rintala was a tank. She slammed through the room, out the other side of the building, and just kept running, as fast as her legs could carry her.
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Feb 07, 2006 8:41 am
Shantrak growled as she slid the length of her right horn against the rough, and graveled, length of a tree's thick trunk. Bark fell away in heaps as Shantrak's ivory horn scratched over the surface of the tree. There was probably a better reason for doing this, but at the moment Rintala hadn't a clue as to what it was. She just did it every so often. Probably to keep her horns sharp, keep them as deadly as possible, but because her natural dislike of violance it was strange to her to think that she would do that, even subconciously. Perhaps, and more in suit to Rintala's mind set, it was to keep her horns polished. What ever god had forsaken her and abandoned the human race knows that her horns should have been scruffed, muddied, and scratched beyond recongnition, but they remained a startling ivory color, smooth and polished.
The horns did look beautiful, now that Rintala stopped to reflect on the matter. It was almost like ordinate jewlery, but attatched to your skull. She could have done without the body hair, bull legs, snout, and just about everything else that made her a monster, but if she could she wouldn't mind keeping the horns. Not for any reason other then she'd carve something, or have someone carve something, into them. Make a design of sorts that wrap around the entire length of the horns. Yea, that'd be so cute.
Drawing a deep breath Rintala sighed her deep, barrel chested, rumbling sigh and scratched the heavy patch of fur just above her breast. It'd been so long since she felt her bare flesh, and she wondered, very breifly, if she'd ever consider trying to find another one of her 'kind' and see if she can't start anew. Oh but happy endings like that were for fairy tails. There's still the worry of being hunting or harassed in public, after all they needed food to eat and unless she suddenly became a master hunter or he had a fully stocked farm it was going to be hard to just walk on down to the Sunday Market. And what if he was a jerk? And not just a regular jerk, but an abusive jerk?! Shantrak had met more then her fair share of violance since the 'Awakening' and she'd been able to pull along in stride, because of her increased physical stature...but if she was stronger then that ment he would probably be stronger as well, and what if she wasn't strong enough to defend herself against him?! What if he just beat her and used her for what ever he wanted?! That thought formed a lead ball in the pit of Rintala's stomach and made Shantrak growl and wring her mighty hands against the length of her battle axe's shaft.
It didn't matter, now that she really thought about it. The likely hood she would meet another monster, even if it was one of her own 'kind' was slim to none at best, and slim just left the building. Not to mention where she was...the Confederate American States, or CAS, was home to some of the most racist biggots the world could produce. They were all pro-human, which, Rintala regretablly had to admit to herself, is what she would have been too had she not become this monster, and absolutely hated the metahumans. They were lower then low, below the negro populace. Not even worth slave labor.
Oh what a joyous life she led.
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|