Apocalypse RP

The infection must’ve peaked 20 years ago, in the initial wave. Nobody is quite sure what the infection is, the scientists didn’t have time to find out and no one left has the means for research. The world has lost 70% of its population, with most survivors being personnel in corrupt private militias, struggling farmers and hunters in strongholds, unorganized groups of bandits, and lone survivors fortunate enough to have stayed alive. The cities are practically untouchable, as the infected have overrun it, and most forests are constantly patrolled by whoever managed to claim it.

Please, tell about your character! They’ll get a mission, go through challenges, and meet very eccentric, strange people along the way. They can be basically anyone, no real restrictions.

Full name: Kyler Sage Adams

Occupation: Smuggler

Kyler is a stoic character, he doesn’t talk much because of the things he’s seen. He was fifteen when the outbreak initially swept across the nation and then the world. He’s fiercely loyal and will never betray a friend. He works as a smuggler, moving supplies between safe-houses and traveling through uncharted and overrun territories to get what he needs. Only kills when necessary.

Kyler was on his way to collect a payment when he heard groans of pain through the busted windows of a diner. When he looked inside, he could clearly see a man about his age getting the everloving shit beat out of him by what seems to be two loansharks. Upon closer inspection, Kyler recognizes the man. Kelly Babic. The asshole that got himself expelled from Kyler’s high school for breaking the principle’s nose when they were freshmen. Although Kyler doesn’t remember that long ago too clearly, he remembers Kelly was a friend of a friend, and Kelly always avoided mugging or insulting him.

The loansharks, too, look familiar, with orange bandanas tied around their necks. Jes Dole’s enforcers. She’s ran the city for 5 or so years, and she runs it so iron-fisted that people pay high prices to be smuggled out. They really might be beating the life out of Kelly, with his lip busted, his nose broken, and a chunk of hair ripped out.

Kyler saw a man running away from those monsters he followed that man as he ran to the...

Full name: Michael "Hambone" Dameon

Occupation: Mechanical Engineer

Hambone was a linehaul junior engineer when the world went sideways, Originally on his way with his crew on the M/V Jeffboat to deliver a set of scrap barges he noticed  someone falling off a bridge only to see said person get up after a solid sixty foot fall. After he got up and took a chunk out of his mate (rank not friend) he grabbed a Johnny bar and beat him with it only to notice his mate standing with half his throat ripped out.

After he ended up dockside he jacked a skiff and headed for a tugboat to make that his home, he learned as much as he could about living and working on a singular vessel scavenging parts from other boats in the area.

Personality wise he's not entirely comfortable with someone stepping onto his vessel unless he knows they're clean but he's more than willing to help a stranger out, his Johnny bar on hand 

Weapon(s) A Johnny bar (3 ft 1/4 in steel pipe with a square end 18 inches long around one end and a crow bar welded into the lower end of the handle, modified to have a bolt hole drilled in the square end to add either a axe head or a sledgehammer as the need arises.

(Google a Johnny Bar if you're confused its an actual tool for towboaters)

Hambone heard a scuffle as he scrounged around, looking for anything he could use as replacement tubing for his generators. "Blasted tubin' knew I shoulda lifted some off that ol' tub but nooo... I just had to be patient and look for the same diameter." He looked up to see a man only a wee younger than him headed for a diner.

Glancing further ahead he saw the sight of another man getting beaten by two goons, "Now, that ain't a fair fight..." He lifted his head out from under the hood of a car as he lifted his pipe, the familiar leather wrapped grip setting firm in his hand as he pulls a bolt out of his pocket and drops the hammer into place getting the bolt hand tight and giving it a swing. 

Strolling up the door where one man is being beaten he calls out softly, for a tow boater, "A'right, wha's 'is then lads?" He looks down waving one hand towards the man on the ground, "I fink he's ha' 'nuff now, dontchu?" His bar tapping into his meaty hand.

“How about you mind your own goddamn business, pal?” The first one, a skinny young man with buck teeth practically hisses at you. His buddy, an average guy with a shaved red head turns away from Kelly to jeer. Kelly, seizing the opportunity, slams his bloody knuckles into the ginger’s face, before head butting the thin one. Kelly himself isn’t too special to look at, with slight muscle on a short frame, black hair and a hooked nose on a square face. “Ha! Ugly asshole!” His attack is almost immediately countered as the redhead slams a fist in his gut, sending him doubling over. One more hit, and he’d be done for.

"Well, see..." Hambone took a few steps towards the red head and hooked his wrist with the crow bar hook at the lower end of his Johnny bar,  "Here's the fing mate,"  A slightly manic look in his eye, and a cut-throat grin on his face, "Two-on-one ain' fair..." He jerked the lower end of his pipe towards the skinny goon, "An' I been needin' a proper brawl fer weeks." His voice dropped and he slipped both hands down to the grip, delivering a heavy swing of the sledgehammer into the red heads gut like he was taking a swing with a baseball bat.

Stepping into the swing he slid one hand towards the hammer head, and shoulder checked the redhead out of the way, dropping both arms over the surprised visage of the skinny one, drawing him into a bear hug with no escape when Hambone delivered a heavy headbutt straight to his nose.

Releasing the hammer headed end he swung the pipe one handed towards the first ones kneecap, fully intent on destroying any chance he had of walking again. Making sure to avoid the dark haired man on the floor.

Kelly brings himself back to his feet, now chuckling. “Oh, I like you.” He coughs and spits blood from his lips, then wiping them. “Kelly Babic. Came down here from Boston a couple years before the outbreak. How longve you been in the city?” He pulls out a half broken mirror from his pocket to try and make himself more presentable.

Hambone decides that the best course of action is to crack the skinny ones' knee as well, "Leave scum like this fer the shamblemen." He pulls off ones shirt and using the blade of his axe cuts it into strips to bind their hands. His task done he stuffs the head of his axe into a small leather pouch on the small of his back. 

He reaches out one calloused hand, "Names Michael, everyone just calls me Hambone or Ham, if'n idda made chief a'fore all this..." He waved his hand towards the surrounding chaos, "Started that's have been mah name." He thought for a moment using the sledgehammer in his free hand to scratch at his head, his black beanie coming unsettled, "Just rode in not too long ago, been roaming the coast looking fer parts fer me boat." He gestured towards the dock "I rode up here on a skiff, engines killed out none o' the shamblemen take a second look at it and in the woods I can just coast easy." 

He looked around the diner, searching for anything he could use and spotting the door to the kitchen he knew his next stop for after the conversation was over.

“Listen, bud. If you can always fight like that, there’s plenty work for ya. You ever smuggled on those boats?” At Hambone’s response, Kelly laughs a bit. “Need some muscle to take shit down to Austin. And after this…” He gestures to the two orange-bandana wearing goons on the floor, “Ms. Doles isn’t gonna be too happy with ya in her city.”

Hambone barked out a laugh, "Tha'? Tha' weren't a fight, it was a proper paddlin'. Now ridin' up the ol' shit ditch you'd see some proper fightin'." He strode towards the door in behind the counter, looking to steal a few hoses from the backs of some appliances. 

He thought about it for a moment, "Can't say I've ever done any smuggling, got plenty o' room though and no other crew on 'er" He shrugged, "If'n ya need muscle or a ride I'm yer captain." He jerked a stove around and pried both ends of pipe off leaving him a small section of flexible hose. 

He looked at Kelly, "Oy, mate want a bit of mischief to leave town on? Anyone know these boys were after yer hide?" He shrugged one shoulder towards the bound captives.

“Jes knows just about everything. Hell, she sent those two dumbasses after me cause I was a few days late on a debt that wasn’t even to her.” Kelly knelt to dig through their pockets. He pulls out some cash, a pocketknife, and a little folded note. He stands.

“Wouldn’t mind paying the bastard who I owe money to a visit. Yknow, Lance Pines, asshole who deals those high-tech rifles and pistols to the US army.” Kelly comes over to clap you on the shoulder. “You comin, bigshot? Hell of a lot of money in his big ol fancy house.”

Hambone grinned looking at the two trussed turkeys, "Either o' ya boys smoke I'll get ye one lit up." Ignoring whatever response they had he took a look around the kitchen for a box of matches, and made a small fire near the window of kitchen. The hiss of natural gas filling the air. 

Following behind Kelly, "Money's good 'nd all. Boom sticks are better." He looked back at the place behind him, seeing another person walking towards the door he gripped his shoulder, "Hol' up lad I'd get well 'nd clear away from there, goin' get right nasty in a wee bit." 

He stayed a half step behind Kelly, following his lead, "I 'unno anyone in town lad, lik'in I said I came for spare parts, might toss a tow line on the side of another boat and haul it to get what I need." 

"I may not look it what wiff my handlin' o' a pipe and all but I'm a mean hand with a long gun too." He confessed to the younger man. ((OOC hambone would be 38 age wise)) "Growin' up in the deep south huntin's a fair sport."

“Well, more reason to come to Austin. I’ve got a friend living in the swamps down on the way, that bastard could shoot a mouse in the eye if he wanted.” Kelly put his hands in his pockets, walking along.

The city, what once was Atlanta, Georgia, is one of the strongest settlements left. Although all of that is because of Jes Doles’ iron-rule, the US military has been trying to dig their claws back into it. While Doles has goons on every street corner that beat and steal, atleast those goons mostly grew up there. The US soldiers steal, beat, and kill, with no remorse. Who’d have remorse for some crime infested city that barely anyone survives more than 40 years in? There are still a decent amount of American cities left, the largest being Cincinnati, New Orleans, Chattanooga, Tallahassee, and Chicago. The rest of the country is littered with city-bunkers or newly founded settlements, where conditions are usually rough and inhumane.

Kelly kept walking. “You got any responsibilities left I gotta know about?”

Hambone shrugged offhandedly, "Not really, mah family would've keeled o'er by now and became shamblemen." He stumbled slightly, "Still workin' on me land legs." He sighed and continued, "Now mah only responsibility is tah mah vessel, she's me home, and mah transport rolled intah one." He recalled the incredibly difficult journey past La Grange, and the difficulty of tying off his small tow to the bank. One small blessing was he didn't have to worry about safety rules anymore.

He held his pipe loose over one shoulder, his grip tightening and loosening in turn as he noted more of the bright orange bandanas that stuck out like neon signs screaming paid thug. He lowered his voice to a low growl to whisper as well as he could towards Kelly, "Any o' these lads in th' know of yer less than stellar reception back ther' 'r were it jus' tha' pair?" His eyes never straying too far from the kill me now orange.

“You think all those dumbasses are high enough on the chain of command to know shit beyond what their captain orders them to do?” Kelly kept leading Hambone. “Even if they got told, they’re too stupid to remember lightning if it struck them.” He laughed at his own joke. It seems that from the way he walks with big, loose strides and how he keeps his hands in the pockets of his worn-out jeans, he thinks highly of himself.

The pair eventually stop outside of what must’ve once been a luxury apartment complex, but is now just as beat-up as every other building. The only thing that seems well kept is the huge penthouse, the window-walls sparkling in the Southern sun.

“I used to work with Lance Pines, you know? Turned his back on me the second Doles offered him more cash.” He kicks a stone at his feet, before pulling out a rather big pocketknife. “You ready?”

Hambone nodded, "Tha' makes sense enuff t' me, and the distraction should be just about ready..." He paused looking towards the diner they had left behind. He started to unscrew the bolt from the base of the square end of the pipe, and pulled out the hammer head, swapping it with the axe head in the pouch on his lower back.

Bolting it in, he took a couple of practice swings and deemed it good enough. The fire axe head still sitting firmly in the pipe. He took a few steps towards the door, his gait strange and rolling like he was catching himself against waves only he could feel. 

"Seem's a bit of a twat t' turn on someone fer money..." He stopped before he reached the door, "A'fore I forget, what's th's lads goons wear?"

Kelly jumps and turns when he hears the explosion, before shaking his shoulders and looking back to Hambone. “He’s more than a twat. He’s a smartass piece of shit who lives off booze, cards, and any power he can convince Doles to give him.”

He keeps his eyes on Hambone. “He doesn’t have goons. Atleast not like Doles does. She’s got an army, he’s just a couple of bodyguards. Well armed, though.”

Kelly looks back up towards the penthouse. “When we worked together we shared a one-room apartment, took turns sleeping on the couch. Now the son of a bitch acts like he’s never took a shit in his life.” With that, he opened the door and began going up the stairs.

As he ascends, he makes quite a racket by stabbing the pocketknife in the empty picture frames, windows, and mirrors on the way up. “Lance! Lance!”

Hambone kept right on Kellys' heels following him up the stairs, "I knew a few boys like tha'," He replied, "Usually crew moving to a higher rank..." He grabbed a half palm-sized piece of broken mirror, as they crested the last set of stairs he grabbed onto Kellys arm and held him back.

Raising one finger to his lips he sat his pipe down, and pulled the door open a crack. With his free hand he angled the piece of mirror so that he could look through the door without giving away he was there.

Through the small crack he spotted two men standing beside a door situated in the middle of the hall. Both were in dark slacks, with white shirts. He clicked his tongue off his teeth as he noticed they were also wearing what looked like S.W.A.T. vests, his hand tipped down and noticed that thankfully their helmets were laying unattended on the floor.

He held the door handle and allowed the door to slip shut quietly, before dropping his voice, "Two o' them right on a door, di'n't see wha' they're packing." He continued his report, "Light arm'r ves's and the daft codgers hav' their lids on tha floor."  He looked at Kelly, "We can either go swift or I ca' creep d'wn a floor an' grab their attention fro' tha ot'er side. I's yer call."