Infernal Chill [Sign-Ups] (Rp)

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This is not a good place to be.

 
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Cold, the word used when the temperature is a bit to low. Some people were born capable of thriving in this weather, others, not so much. In a way, the low temperatures can be symbolic. People often associate cold with death and other such matters dealing with the lifeless. Others have even gone as far as pairing cold sensations with the paranormal, whether they are poltergeist, or all powerful Gods that lay in wait within the shadows of darkness, or simply not enough sunlight is reaching your region. The lower end of the temperature spectrum is certainly more, interesting then it’s counterpart.

You live in a small town located in the United States, well now it’s the Confederacy. The war has been quite unpleasant to Tennessee. Neither the North or South were prepared for this war to stretch into 1923, but yet it did. It’s hard to believe that the longest war in your brief history was a Civil War. At this point however, it is more a war of moral and attrition. You still have the daily raids on major depots, but your small town has been relatively safe, minus the attack last year. It was quite the peculiar raid.

Last year, during this same season of Winter, your residence was attacked. Strange thing about it was the culprits. It wasn’t the North, or any Native Americans. It was a group of Niggers from Africa. They tried holding some sort of ritual, or negotiation of sort, nobody knows for sure, the only lick of English that they ever used was Yiltonville, the name of our isolated township. The thing that made it stranger than fiction was what they did to those who they killed. They didn’t fight with guns, or swords, spears or cannons. They fought with kerosene. Burning our buildings and our people alive. We went from a town of about 500 to a town of under 100 in less than 15 hours. The fight was brutal, the bloodshed was terrible, and the reason was and still is unknown.

Tomorrow is the anniversary of the battle, and a memorial will likely be held. The forecaster’s from over in Knoxville say that next week we will have a massive blizzard roll in, bringing freezing temperatures. Normally we would probably use up some of our kerosene lamps in order to keep the area pristine, but considering the situation it would be quite offensive.


**In 1987, 23 years after the war ceased, translators and historians found the records of Yiltonville. They discovered something quite shocking, or possibly just an error in translation. The Africans were trying to save, and warn the citizens of Yiltonville.

 
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This game starts out in the year 1923, in a reality in which the Civil War of America was yet to end. You will be playing as an ordinary person, placed into extraordinary situations during the Winter of 1923-1924. The game is starting a week before the memorial that is in honor of the Yiltonville Raid of 1922. You should use this week (not an actual week in realtime) to build your character, communicate with others, and add as much backstory as possible. After this week is over, you need to remember two things. One, you may possibly be isolated for prolonged periods of time. Two, this is a parsed RP. You do not, under any circumstances unless stated specifically by me, control the actions of any NPC or godmod. I hope this becomes an enjoyable, yet somewhat short RP.

 
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Sign Up

Name:
Age:
Gender:
Important Biographical Information:
Occupation:
Appearance:
Extra Information:

 
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I don’t think 43 peopl will signup.

 
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Neither do I.

 
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I’ll bite, though occupation is kinda already in the Biographical Information as that would include jobs/careers.

Name: Alexander Thorne

Age: 19

Gender: Male

Important Biographical Information: Highschool diploma with few college hours, Alex worked as a local blacksmith in a small town Sarva.

Occupation: Blacksmith

Appearance: Alexander, normally shortened to Alex, is a quiet person. When he does speak, it normally comes out in a “Im better then you” tone. He wears a tight black linen shirt and deep blue leather pants worn tightly around his legs. A brown leather jacket rests on his shoulders with a long pouch on his back made out of leather strips to carry his sword.

Extra Information: (BIO) Alex grew up in the harsh jungles of Sarva, he learned much there, like survival, combat, and tending minor wounds. At the age of 10, his father gave him his trusty sword.. his father died a gruesome death along with his mother and sister, they were slaughtered before his eyes. This has traumatized him ever since.. he holds onto his sword as a memory from the past, a memory from the only person he will ever trust. He only had his younger brother by his side, Alex was expected to live as an adult at the age 10, scaring him for life. The images of blood and death constantly fill his mind ever since the slaughtering of his family. His sword is the only thing Alex has left to live for..

 
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[I have a couple questions/problems. Skinny jeans seems a bit out of place for 1923, and I’m sure he must be from somewhere foreign if he grew up in jungles.]

 
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[You’re right, wasn’t thinking when typing. Fixed though.]

 
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[Final Bump]