-Anyone can join in at any time. -All RP related content must be in italics (such as dialogue, descriptions, and actions taken). Everything else will remain as regular text. -When you join you must give a brief profile of your character in regular text above the italics. This profile will include any information that you feel is pertinent to give us a jump start on your character. You only tell as much or as little as you feel we should know. -This RP is totally open. You can do whatever you want, I only ask that you don't be a jerk and ruin the fun for everyone. -Though the RP is open, try to keep excessive, obscene descriptions to a minimum. -Have fun, be creative, and lets try and do something epic!
Setting: Central New York, 2021, three years after the apocalypse.
Profile: -5'11" -154 pounds -Short, unkempt, Champagne colored hair -Worn, tattered, old, green cargo pants. Pockets and chock full. -Long sleeve t-shirt with one sleeve ripped in half, the other torn off. (too dirty to accurately determine color). -New looking backpack, chock full. -Thick leather belt laden with magazine pouches and a holster bearing a M1911 pistol. -Carries around a big walking stick (approximately 4 feet in length), made of oak. -Wears a pair of sunglasses whose lenses are of a blue tint, can see green eyes clearly past lenses.
Anton shifted through a pile of rubbish with his walking stick. He had been very lucky today, coming to the mall was a good decision. Though most of the stores had been picked over, he managed to find a really nice mountain climbing back pack in an old Sports Authority, and he even found some food in this popcorn stands storage. Mind you most of it was past the expiration date, but some of the popcorn bags were still good, and all of the energy drinks were good for a few more years. Most of the stuff had been scattered around the storage room, ripped out of their boxes by people in desperation when they had first heard about the bombs dropping, but it was all still there, wrapped neatly in the loving arms of preservative plastic.
Anton reached over to the counter and took a sip from the energy drink he had opened up a second ago. "Whoopass" it was called. He didn't get the joke. Clearing his throat he turned over an old, stale bag of cracker jacks to find a smashed glass bottle underneath.
His head snapped up and he peered just over the counter at the main walkway, in the general direction of a Borders that was kitty-corner to the popcorn stand. He had heard footsteps and voices. The dead silence was something Anton had always enjoyed, he had been kind of a loner in his life and saw the emptiness and loneliness as kind of a friend. But he had been alone for quite awhile now, and he did...sort of...miss being around people. That must have been why he simply took his drink off the counter and drew his pistol, rather than booking it for the door.
Eyes just barely seeing over the counter, he watched and waited.