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DUST
Topic Started: Jul 18 2012, 06:47 PM (62 Views)
Ethan Black
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Welcome to Dust
{Rules}----{Character Sheet Template}----{Faction Information}----{Roleplay Information}


There are few still alive who remember the day the bombs dropped. For days the earth shook with the shockwaves, the ground crawled with fire and the sky burgeoned a sickly blood red. For days the bombs fell, they would tell, long after people gave up screaming for the fear of them.

When the bombs stopped the survivors who emerged from the rubble would remember one thing – the Dust. It cut off the light and an impossible winter came with it – dark, bitter, unending. For years the dust hung in the sky and there was no day of which to speak, little rain, even less hope. When finally the rain came, years later, and washed the soot from the sky those left saw a sunlight they had almost forgotten, and rejoiced. A week later, they wished hadn’t.

After the dust fell from the sky, the summer began.

Almost half a century ago.


JOIN THE WARZONE:
+ Post Apocalyptic, Post WW3 Roleplay
+ Nuclear Summer
+ Join the Knights - Peacekeepers, Laws, Law Enforcers
+ Join the Zealots - Rebels, Espers, Wanted Criminals
+ Join the Neutrals- Dogs of War
+ Customise your character with a wide list of Merits and Flaws, and faction-specific Genetic Adaptations (Zealots/Neutrals) or Bionic Enhancements (Knights).
+ Participate in Faction v Faction based missions, where you as characters fight for the outcome.





27th March, 2092 - 30 killed in Zealot Protest
‘Darkness, sweat, terror, pain,’ the man’s voice wavered from the crate he stood on, settling out over the crowd, ‘this is what a life under the Knight’s encompasses! It’s all these things and blood – your blood!’

There was a murmur through the crowd that ran electric, a steady buzz of voices that did not dare raise themselves above a whisper, half in awe, half in fear. The corner of the street had filled with people enough to block the few cars that still tried to shamble their way through the throng, avoiding the pockmarked potholes left behind in old detonations and wayward shrapnel.

‘We killed the planet.’ The solemnity in his voice called out, ‘We dropped the bombs and we must suffer out actions. But ask yourselves, if God is gone from this world who gave the Knights the right to his place!’

The afternoon sun shone on the barrels of readied weapons, a downward slice of hard glare. One of the Knights signaled over the top of the crowd, and the few soldiers that had gathered took up positions, blocking retreats, pulling away people on the edges in silent warning. Footsteps sounded through the crowd on the fringes, the crackle of radios echo from one edge to another.

‘Is this how you would live, dependent on your government, waiting on food and water from megalomaniacs? You need not live as prisoners to the Knights. The Zealots stand for everything this government fears: anarchy, rebellion even personal freedom. Join us!’

Guns cocked. Tears, angry tears, shone in the eyes of the Zealot. He drew his body up tall, and did not shy away from the impending action about to be taken. The sun setting cast angry red hues on the sky, violent and vengeful as he spoke reverently.

‘The Zealot code is as follows: Strength through unity, unity through action, action through blood: blood of the Knights!’ The whole street corner was silent, holding its breath, ‘A code worth dying for.’

Shots rang out and drowned out the screams.



‘Our platoon opened fire, but we weren’t expecting the planted resistance in the crowd.’ The officer, stood stationary before the desk watching his superior, ‘We lost five soldiers, and four zealot bodies were counted. Twenty civilians casualties were also incurred.’

A dossier lay opened on the desk; the man seated picked up the file of the Zealot whose words had drawn everyone to that ill-fated corner – friends, foe, innocents.

‘Jonathon Mallet.’ He murmured, ‘Zealot and known Esper Clairvoyant, likely to have foreseen the events and played them against us. His martyrdom took many other corpses with it.’

It was not an uncommon occurrence. The Zealots were growing bolder, their forays into open combat with the Knights more frequent. Momentum was a dangerous thing, if one was to gauge the effects of recent escalations of these rebels. He sighed.

‘It seems war is the fate of all civilizations.’ He murmured, ‘The strong will fight one another for the right to decide how others should live, and those being ruled fight the rulers for ‘freedom’. The cycle of years blends into one another, fading into statistics.’

He closed the dossier, fixing his stare on the grey-eyed soldier before him.

‘These people think we need them, that our benevolence is out of necessity. They do not understand that we could survive without them. We feed them, we guard them, and we respect their right to existence because we, as Knights, have an obligation to them.’

He stood from the desk and walked to the glass of the windows, staring at the city that spilt out around the centre of the Knight HQ. If one had enough height on things, everything could look still and peaceful. He could not see for his distance and height the blood drying on the street corner, where almost thirty people had lost their lives early that afternoon.

‘We gave these people not only the right to live, but the means to do it.’ He closed his eyes, ‘But these ‘Zealots’ are not people. They are barbarians, singular in their flawed idealism and singular goal to destroy us. They cold not manage this city. It is in their genes, their ‘Espers’, that have left them psychologically disposed to this madness.’

He walked around the desk and placed his hand on the Knight’s shoulder.

‘It is our responsibility to take away the right to life of some, so that many more may live.’

‘Ours is not an easy task.’




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