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| Posted by | War of the Rebellion | RP thread |
 P a l l i s (#42550) Deathlord of the Jungle View Forum Posts  Posted on 2015-08-24 12:02:06 |
The Dome cities Vast and shiny, the dome cities are incredibly innovative places where high security and advanced tech meets a luxurious quality of life. There are exactly 15 dome cities in all of Rukia, but the largest and most modern of them is the capital of Solaire. Here resides the Rukian government council, who oversee every minuet action taken by the sub-city government councils in the 14 other dome cities. The government is very strict in its regulation of everything that happens in its cities in order to ensure protection and quality of life for all highbloods. Any act of deviation is seen as a threat, and all citizens are monitored by the watchful eyes of their neighborhood Honor Protector squad. The Rukian wilderness
Outside the oasis-like dome cities, vast barren deserts stretch out to the horizon, meeting on dry shores with oceans of boiling hot temperatures. This is the world of the lowbloods. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
|T E R M S|
High blood; The term used to describe any person born within a dome city to high blood lineage; the lineage must be entirely pure for them to be considered a high blood. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
|R U L E S|
+ All Lioden rules apply.
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|C H A R A C T E R S|
|High bloods| |Low bloods| --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
|L I N K S|
Character SheetsView and Post Character Sheets 0 players like this post! Like? Edited on 27/08/15 by Prince Pallis (#42550) |
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P a l l i s (#42550)
Deathlord of the Jungle View Forum Posts Posted on 2015-08-27 14:14:51 |
Wolfgang | low blood | Location: underground market in an abandoned mine shaft The air was humid and heavy, carrying the fresh scent of exotic foods and rusted metal through the dimly-lit air. The low hum of voices almost became white noise, while bodies of all shapes and sizes passed through the dingy yet lively tunnels of the market, creating a crowd that swelled and moved rhythmically. Every face had a story, every side glance or glare from a stranger; some heavily scarred, some dirty, others covered in masks and hoods, grinning, scowling, or innocently wide-eyed. With an audible thump, Wolfgang slammed his mug of half-drunken whisky on the crude wooden bar counter. He leaned against the counter, resting his forearms on it's surface and drumming his fingers impatiently. The young man turned his head and swept his gaze over the crowd with narrowed eyes and lowered eyebrows, as if searching for something. A group of drunken traders nearby raised their voices to a shout, and two of them promptly started throwing punches. A child scurried around the young rebel's legs, carrying an assortment of metal trinkets in it's small arms. Wolfgang gave a sharp breath through his nose and shrugged away from the counter, rubbing the back of his neck while he surveyed the crowd again. People shrugged past him, some eyeing the blood-dyed red fabric tied to his belt, knowing it was a symbol of the rebellion. Wolfgang's heart was thrumming in his chest with anticipation, his fist curling around the hilt of his sheathed dagger. Wherever Cylla was, he didn't know. She probably slipped off to look at the weapons being sold. Whatever, that just mean that she wold miss all the action. In an instant, Wolfgang turned back to the bar counter and jumped onto it, his heavy boots planting on top of it with a loud thud. He untied the blood red fabric from his belt and thrust it into the air with a clenched fist. "My fellow low bloods! Brothers and sisters of the deserts!" he shouted, his loud voice carrying easily through the tunnel. "We are not expendable workers! We are not servants! We do not belong in chains; we do not belong in graves because of where we were born!" The crowd was beginning to stop to view the commotion, others shifting away wearily. Wolfgang leaped off of the bar counter and onto a pile of crates, standing on a higher platform. "We watch the Protectors take away our kin," he snarled, his eyes ignited with passion. "We watch them kill our family, we get treated like animals by the highbloods! We suffer and starve in the heat while the rich watch from their protected domes, swimming selfishly in their own filthy amounts of wealth!" "It's time for us to rise and take a stand! We can't take this treatment simply because our ancestors have! Our numbers will overpower them, we will become outsiders no more. It is our time, fellow lowbloods," the rebel growled, stepping forward. He slid his blade from it's sheath, held his arm up, and drew a thin line in it with his blade. Blood dripped onto the wooden crates. Wolfgang turned to the wall behind him, and, using his own blood, drew the symbol of the rebellion onto it, as was customary and symbolic for many rebels to do. Turning back around, Wolfgang raised his red fabric into the air again, arm streaked with blood and his eyes intense. "It's time for us to take the power back! Rise up or die, my people! Long live the rebellion!" Lucien Matteus | High blood | Location: University of Solaire campus Sunlight poured through the windows lining the classroom wall, glinting off the silver ring that turned between Lucien's impatient fingers. The young man abruptly closed his fist around the ring, and lifted his pale gaze from his meaningless preoccupation. The student leaned back in his chair as he gazed around the room, which was as clean and simple as always. Other students were slowly filing in and taking their seats, not many casting a glance to the young man sitting at a table in the back. The class was small, as expected, comprised mostly of the sons and daughters of the most prestigious and wealthy; trust fund babies with a special family title (admittedly, much like Lucien himself). Room number 430, level 4, advanced Biophysics. God, Lucien hated this class. Lucien's eyes shifted to his computer screen, where he was currently working on building a new program. He assumed he'd keep himself preoccupied during this lecture, which would most likely be boring as fuck. Deciding to resume his work, Lucien pursed his lips and leaned forward, his fingers flitting over the holographic keyboard in front of him and his eyes intensely focused. The young man gave a small glance up when the professor stepped in and addressed the class, informing them that a famous biologist was here to lecture them today. Lucien, however, felt he had better things to do. 0 players like this post! Like? |
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FieryWrench (#31573)
Prince of the Savannah View Forum Posts Posted on 2015-08-27 18:59:53 |
Terradelle Fischer-High Blood- Solaire Terradelle stomped after her father, the fall of her heavy boots echoing down the hallways. She was grumpy. Of course she was. How many months had it been since she had last seen daylight? And for her father to wake her at such an ungodly hour, well before dinner. If he were to wake her up while the sun was still up he could at least let her do something productive, not accompany him to a lecture. She could have been taking notes on her latest experiments. Subjecting the Rukian wildlife to the dome city temperatures. It was much colder than the creatures were accustomed to she was sure. She wondered if it would be like freezing to them. There wasn't much she could do about it though, as her father grumbled on ahead of about how she could have at least worn something a bit more... professional. Aiding in his lecture dressed like some punk-scum. She almost snorted at that, but restrained herself. What did he want her to do? Put on her lab coat? Fuck that. No. She marched into that classroom with her head held high, her pitch black shirt hugging her torso and her black cargos sitting low across her hips. There were glances from the students expecting her to join their ranks, but she ignored them, standing beside her father with her hands in her pockets waiting to get this damned thing over. She chanced a glance at the room number. She gave a friendly smile and an awkward wave to her former professor as he entered the room to introduce her father. Advanced Biophysics? That time she did snort. She wasn't here as a teachers aid. She was here so Daddy could show of his trophy of a daughter's paragon experiment. So be it. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Caleb-Honorless It was a nice break from the heat, but Caleb wished he didn't have to spend all of his time in the shadows searching for darker shadows to hide in. People needed to stop pissing him off. Just don't be stupid! It really isn't that hard. He wiped the blood on his hand off on the cave walls and random passers-by. Stupid bastard had to try ripping him off. He know the price of blades better than anyone, and his new "found" dagger was worth more than everything in that dumbass' shop. He just wanted some fucking food. Is that so much to ask for? Food? Ya know, a fruit, scrap of meat? Fucking humans. Idiots the lot of them. He stopped, some part of his mind distracted by a new commotion coming from some drunkard standing on a table. He growled. He didn't have time for this. But something else caught his eye. The blood red rag the man was now holding above his head. He had heard something about that somewhere hadn't he? Something about something he almost found interesting. What was it again? He listened closer now. Something about the highbloods treating them like shit. Right. Like that's new. Blah blah blah basic human rights. Where was this going? He was just about to move on when he heard it. "It's time for us to take the power back! Rise up or die, my people! Long live the rebellion!" The drunkard bellowed, sounding less and less drunk with every word. Rebellion? Now there's something he could get behind. Fighting. Battles. Bloodshed. Oh, how he would love to watch them all suffer. Maybe he could meet up with his father again. Maybe he could make that bastard suffer for everything he had done. 0 players like this post! Like? |
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Hawkmask (#41743)
Famous View Forum Posts Posted on 2015-08-28 13:25:09 |
Cylla|Low-blood Cylla slid through the crowd, not bothering to offer any words to her fellow low-blood in the market. Heads turned and stared as she passed, and people blocking her way moved aside. She may have been pretty, but she wasn't stupid; it wasn't for that. The blood-red cloth tied to the right side of her hip was what caused the attention. The sign of the rebellion. The weapons she had gone to look at hadn't been worth it, which was irritating enough, but she had won in another way. Some careless vendor had left the wares unattended, and everything was open. It had only taken moments for her to break into the little box with the money, and take it. No one had noticed a thing. She wasn't rushing back to where she had left Wolfgang for fear of being caught, no protectors were here to stop that kid of thing, but because of the speech. She hadn't been far when she heard it begin; Wolfgang jumping up onto a table and shouting his revolutionary fantasies. The dark-haired woman hissed under her breath as some idiot began to move in front of her, and stuck out her foot, sending the man sprawling. The junk he was carrying went flying from his hands, and she sniffed in disdain as she stepped over him and continued to the center of the crowd; no way people who didn't pay attention to her were gonna get away with it. A few long strides later, and she reached the murmuring heart of the crowd. Quite a few older Low-bloods muttered about Wolf being insane, and going to get taken away, while many of the younger ones' faces were hardened with anger. Most would have had a family member taken, she presumed, to make them feel so strongly. Personally, Cylla neither knew, nor cared, about her family's whereabouts. If they couldn't protect themselves, that was their own damn fault. She shoved through the front line of it, getting into the clear spot right below Wolfgang. She approached the crates, watching as he wrote the symbol on the wall in his blood. It was a marvel how obsessed he was with this rebellion; he really believed in it. Cylla, on the other hand, did not. She had joined it to avoid being taken herself, at least not without a reason. And because it was far more interesting that could possibly happen in her tribe. With a sigh, she fluidly pulled herself up onto the lowest crate, stepping up to one close to Wolfgang. She turned, her back to the crowd. "Yes, let's paint our DNA all over the wall. Nothing inspires people more than giving the High-bloods everything they would need to identify us, if their highnesses decided to come down here." She muttered to him, sarcasm clear in her voice as she pulled her own knife out of her boot and drew a small cut onto her forearm. There was no real chance of the High-bloods finding them; they never came down to these places, not even the protectors. Which is why she also painted the symbol onto the wall in blood. Not as big as Wolfgang had, and a little below it, but she supposed it was the symbolism that mattered to these people. "Anyway, well done with the theatrics. I could hear you all the way from the weapons stalls." Now she glanced at him, tying the red cloth around her cut, an eyebrow raised. "Although, I've heard the best place to speak if you want to be exposed to attacks is in right outside the dome, within shooting distance." The dark-haired woman commented, making sure he got her point. If he wanted to lead this rebellion, he had to live long enough to do so. It wasn't just the High-bloods who wanted the rebels dead, it was a percentage of Low-bloods too. The ones weak enough to give in to 'save' their loved ones. —————————————— Lyssana Carin| "High-blood" Lyssana pulled on the uniform's top, slowly, not particularly wanting to. She was reassigned, like many of the other Protectors had been. It was only part-time, but... Guard duty would make it harder to help out the rebellion. Her one secret. Especially with who she was guarding. Realyn. The name was familiar to all those who resided in the domes. She was a prominent member of the council, and one of the strongest haters of Low-bloods that Lys had ever heard speak. And obviously, she worked on choking it out. Almost every holograph the protector had seen lately was about that. Glancing at the clock, she resignedly hooked her weapons into place, and checked herself over in her mirror before stepping out of her apartment. The public transport options took her only near where she needed to go, and not to it, so she had to leave earlier than she normally would. The one upside to this, was that being closer to a Council-member would allow her to get more information for the rebel leaders. It wouldn't be easy, but she could do it. After all, she was an Honor Protector, one of the most trusted positions in all of Rukia. 0 players like this post! Like? |
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plaguegi (#50900)
Vicious View Forum Posts Posted on 2015-08-29 01:09:51 |
Blair Valentine :: Honorless :: 21 :: Underground Market w/ Wolfgang and Caleb Her hair and skin was covered by dusty rags, all to be visible of the face beneath being the cold gaze beneath her goggles. Cloth over her nose, dangling down over her lower face and throat, she looked no more than another desert roamer when the drunkard stepped up and began preaching about the rebellion. She studied him, a few strands of near ivory bangs having worked free of her hood and laying over a strip of tanned skin on her forehead. Pushing back her hood, a plume of dirt fell from it and her goggles were pushed back onto her head, the cloth over her face falling into a scarf. Face turning, she watched now as the people reacted. Some moved away, others weary. A man at the back, she noticed, looked disgusted. How odd. Nonetheless, she looked to the tattooed man ahead of her and her slim dark brows knitted. This is my chance. I'm sure as Hell not missing it. She thought to herself, finally coming to a conclusion. And that was when her voice was added into the fray. "Long live the Rebellion!" She echoed back at him, voice dead and rough even to her own ears. There was no fire there yet, but there would be once she learned whether or not this man would be worth fighting with. If he was another lost cause, then she'd have to wait a little bit longer. Gaze flitting sideways, she noticed another man: this one looking almost eager. Who else could use this? Just a little push and they'd be on board. They could do just as this stranger said: make a lives for themselves, knock down the Protectors that gave them Hell. Did she have any choice other than to fight for that? Not really. It was fight for their lives or go back to being cockroaches that flee from the light. And... let's face it. She was fed up with it, especially after her former life of luxury. Those people deserved a little bit of suffering. Attention returning once again to the drunkard, even if she highly doubted that he was one, Blair moved forward and took up residence in the very seat he'd vacated. What could she say? She wanted a drink, even if there was shit going down around her. She hadn't had a good ale in a while now and she could always use a little bit of alcohol in her bloodstream. Now, don't confuse her for a drunk- she just liked the warm feeling it gave her and she enjoyed having the free time to relax. "There better be a damn war." She muttered under her breath, swigging at her newly delivered drink and casting an eye to the speaker. Hmm. Seemed his girlfriend had joined him. Whether or not she was just another pretty face, Blair would likely come to find out. But judging by her cold look and mutterings, she doubted it already. Now, as the two drenched the wall in blood, her nose wrinkled. What the Hell was with them and cutting themselves? If they wanted to get their point across, more people wearing red needed to make a stand and make a point to low bloods and high bloods alike. Honestly, a bit of wall paint wouldn't do jack shit other than make this place a target and people weary. Ramsey Grayson :: Highblood Engineer/former Protector :: 34 :: Solaire Something Ramsey had learned in his three decades of life was that Solaire always had something interesting to do. For a while, that was keeping its citizens safe and responding to emergencies. But now, it was responding to commissions and requests, keeping buildings standing, making repairs and the sorts. Very rarely did he have a moment to stop and relax, just breath and enjoy his life. But today, he did. He had that freedom to dress normally, grab a cigar and go for a walk. He limped a bit as was usual, thick dark gray smoke billowing and curling from between his lips with each exhale, but his eyes were alight with pleasure and a smile lifted his lips. He honestly did enjoy his city- especially the scenery. It was so much more than the dead outlands he'd kept an eye on whenever he was on the wall. Today, he'd taken his walk around toward the university. But would he visit? Probably not. He didn't mind children or getting up and talking and being social; it was the whole teaching aspect. He didn't much support teaching classes, he'd preferred one on one interaction and by talking to so many people at the same time he felt like someone trying too hard to be special. Do, instead, he took up the opportunity to visit the wall. Last time he'd been there had been when he was fired, after all, and a little visitation would be interesting to say in the least. Maybe he'd get a little update on what was going on outside the city? Nonetheless, he felt a nervous little chill race up his spine. He'd have to keep his tattoo hidden- he'd probably end up in Taurus if any of the Protectors saw. Oh well. I'll support my niece, even if it's technically illegal. He thought to himself, lifting a calloused hand to rub at his stubbled jaw and then pluck out his cigar. He flicked it, scattering ash and looking over to a group of familiars. He wished he was still a Protector... It had been nice having that kind of companionship. For now he'd just have to deal with it, he supposed. 0 players like this post! Like? |
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