And in the End - cwhr apocalypse rp

[lichenfeather]

Polly and Silver, you're both accepted. Once I update the list, I'll start it. Most likely tomorrow.

[Timey]

I'll try to make my first post soon. Just in a bit of pain from surgery and I'm mainly using my phone. <3

[lichenfeather]

[First post is up! A lot of scene setting here, so hopefully you guys have some kind of feel for what it's like out there]

Brushing a few rouge strands of her sun streaked brunette hair from her face, the girl gazed around at the wasteland stretching before her, narrowing her green eyes at the glaze from the sun. She already looked as if she belonged to this broken place. Dust and dirt coated every inch of her skin, and where it could not reach skin it gathered on her dark clothing, tinting everything slightly brown. She wore long, tight navy pants that would have been considered fashionable once, but now only served to protect her from the relentless sunlight. A faded tank top and vest covered her upper half, leaving her shoulders and upper arms bear. On her hands she wore a sort of fingerless glove, fashioned from what looked to be old woolen tights. The only reason she wore them was she could easily slip slender blades flat against her forearm, where they would be hidden from sight. Across her back was strapped two sheaths, in which rested two gleaming blades, ready to hack and kill upon the call of their mistress. However, perhaps most interesting about the girl was who, or what, she was with.

Between her black booted feet an ebony flank trembled, itching to go, to run, to be free of this parched, dead land. The mare snorted, tossing her head. As she did so, the little silver bells tied into her mane jingled softly, and the seventeen hand high mare stilled, although her eyes continued to roam the barren world. Her long, slender ears suddenly flicked, swivelling around to point at the shorter grey mare, standing with her muzzle pressed to the midnight rump before her. Had it been any other horse, aside for the Arabian mare who responded to Torchwood, the charcoal coated Skata would have been whirled in a second, sinking her teeth into the other horses cheek. Yet as it was Torchwood, she ignored her, huffing softly to her small herd.

The girl perched atop the black mare Skata ran her fingers through the messy mane, tying knots into the already tangled hair. When the soldiers had come to take her horses, they’d been forced to leave Skata and Torchwood behind. Skata because she killed a man – he’d entered her pasture despite desperate warnings from the girl, Feather, and he’d paid the price with his life. Skata had been hiding in the pond in the middle of her pasture, only her nostrils and tips of her ears visible above the dark water, as she so often did. The man, unaware of the almost predatory horse he was attempting to catch, was caught completely unaware when a slick dark shape launched herself at him. With one bite she had his fingers, with the next she had him by his arm, and by then it was too late, for her sharp hooves were already coming down. Torchwood had not killed anyone, she had simply disappeared, as she was so good at doing.

And so it was the two mares had stayed, and now they overlooked this dusty plateau with the young woman once known as Feather, three, lonely souls in a nuclear desert.

[Timey]

The silence of the wasteland was shattered by that of a very loud, very ungraceful honk.

The scene would have almost been comical if it hadn't been so sad. A team of four equines and two people were traversing their way across the desert. In the lead was a man astride a very alert looking mule, who was thundering his way through the endless dust. Behind them, a large, older looking Andalusian followed without a lead. He tried his best to keep up while carrying a number of items on his back. The mule looked back at the stallion, and seeing that he was beginning to tire, slowed his own pace so the stallion wouldn't have to work so hard.

There was a similar set up coming up alongside them quickly. A woman gripped the reins of a battered looking fleabitten mare, who despite her looks, was keeping up easily with the mule. The mare tossed her head and let out a shrill whinny; a challenge to the wastes surrounding her to throw whatever hidden dangers it had up it's sleeve, right at her. She could take them. The stallion that followed, her son, shared the same desires. This stallion was having a noticeably easier time at carrying his share of the weight than the Andalusian, and he still seemed like he wanted to get into a fight with something.

The man and the woman did not speak. They kept their eyes pointed towards the emptiness ahead of them. Years before the two had been pretty good friends, and in better times had been able to share a laugh. But once the last of the man's young family had died off, a large part of his heart had as well. He was cold now. Cold and seemingly uncaring. The previously strong friendship was strained, and the woman had a burning fear that one night he would just up and leave on his own journey.

So now, this was how they traveled. Dependent on one another but somehow managing to not really acknowledge each other's existence. The air around them held a certain tension, and no matter how hot the wastes were, being with them always seemed to make you feel cold.

[SilverBell90]

A lone figure stood watch, crouched down near a fried and dead bush. The land he now called home had little to no vegetation. All that was left was a husk of the glory days when horses trotted this way and that with farm hands happily tending to them. He sighed as he watched the land ahead with his farm house, stables, and empty fields behind him. He decided not to ride this time around since he wouldn't be going to far.
His name was Kage, but it wasn't used very often with no one to talk to. A man might go mad from being alone for so long. But with animals to care for, it was different. A gas mask conceiled almost all of his facial features but his eyes. They were a bright blue greyed by the masks cloudy lenses. Little to no emotion escaped this mask, turning him into a monster stalking his prey.

In the murky stables, two horses remained. A shadow loomed in one stall as a tall and mighty horse watched the shadows for any movement. His magnificent markings just barely showing in the light of some well kept windows. Even in the middle of the apocalypse, cleanliness was key. He nibbled at the small amount of hay in his stall before looking over at the other horse in the stable.

Arlo was the older horse. She snorted as her friend, Hidalgos gaze came over her. Her head hang low and was more relaxed than her stronger friend. She was calmer and had steadier gates, but both she and him were ridden were for the same amounts of time. They both had their chance to smell the fresh air.

[lichenfeather]

[I'll give PaintLily a few days to get a starting post up before I post again.]

[lichenfeather]

The trio was quietly planning their next move (or Feather was, while the mares sniped and snapped at one another, bored with all the standing around) when a shrill cry shattered the silence. Feather, perched atop Skata, froze, trying to sort through the sounds that it could have come from. Possibly some sort of mutated animal, raging across the waste, or perhaps an injured human, crying out in the throws of death. Whatever it was, the brunette did not want to encounter it, although the black menace she rode upon had other ideas.

Throwing her delicate head back, her long, slender ears flat against her neck, Skata gave a scream of challenge, calling out to the owner of the last sound, demanding a fight. Beside her, Torchwood stirred nervously, and Feather huffed. Calling the grey mare to stand aside the screaming Thoroughbred, the skinny woman easily slipped from one back to the other, not bothering to transfer her supplies to Skata as she usually would, instead settling herself amongst the meager possessions on her Arab's back. She did not want to be on the black mare when she found her enemy. Instead, she reached out one hand and grabbed a hunk of dark mane, tying knots into it in an attempt to calm the raging equine.

She had no luck. In a moment, the mare was off, fast as a breath, a black blur quickly fading into the horizon as she tracked her opponent with a keen mind. Giving a snort of alarm, Torch skittered off after her friend, slower but still keeping the midnight blur in sight. Finally, Skata slowed, as four figures appeared from the dust. Whirling, the onyx mare threw herself to her hind legs, her hooves slicing through the air as she screamed again, a hungry, frightening sound. Feather and Torchwood had caught up by this point, skidding to a stop and circling the dark mare, trying to make out the shapes. "Skata, please." The girl murmured, hoping to calm the fight until she could sort out the approaching figures. "Are you friend or foe?" She called out, her voice raspy, and not expecting a reply.

[Inupait]

---------------------- Human ----------------------

Username; Inupait
Name; Tori Hearth
Gender; Female
Age; 19 years
Personality;
She grew up a tough girl even when her father was
killed in the war. She gave everything to the war
effort in hopes that it would bring it to an end. She
was always optimistic and never lost hope that life as
she knew it could be returned to her. But when her
younger brother was also taken in the war she lost
that part of her. Now she's very rough around the
edges, her lips never crook into a smile anymore and
her once friendly demeanour has been whittled away
to a very hard cold shell. she doesn't trust anyone and
has a way of being manipulative when she needs to be.
The only thing she really cares about is the last thread
that holds her to her family and that is the horse she rides.
Horses; Kattah
Other;
Honestly Tori is more Bark then Bite! She acts all
dangerous and stony but she is really quite soft and scared,
but thats all hidden away because its too dangerous to be
soft in a world like this.

---------------------- Equine ----------------------

Username; Inupait
Name; Kattah
Gender; Stud
Age; 4 years
Breed; Morgan x Arabian x Quarter Horse
Personality; Skittish, Unconfident, Vain,
Unpredictable, Playful
Other; Kattah was born out of the ranches last
old work horse during the war. His dam was unable
to recover from labour and was lost. Tori bottle fed
him and kept him safe till he was big enough to ride.
she broke him herself and cares deeply for him because
he was her fathers dream. He was bread for speed
and endurance and so naturally he is a great get away
car when she needs him. Kattah unfortunately is
afraid of everything and isn't the most reliable mount,
in fact No one but Tori can predict where his feet
might land.

[lichenfeather]

Inu, you're accepted, I'll add your character to the main post later today. Feel free to start now.

[Inupait]

Bust, nothing but dust. Lifeless and blinding it clogged the seances and dulled the mind. Years of dust! The wind turned up and threw it skyward when ever it was disturbed. What was dust useful for? Nothing grew here, nothing could be planted. The sun baked it to a crisp more fruitless then a desert yet even a desert was more merciful and brought death quicker. It had been too long now, since she last drank. Her mind swam with the effects of dehydration but she haas not regretted what she had done. days ago she had ventured deep into the wasteland in search of water, but all she had found was toxic slums so microwaved by nuclear activity that anything that fell in would come out with three more heads and limbs then it had before.

A scarf covered her face from nose to chest, keeping the suffocating dust from settling in her lungs. she had learned from the death of her dog that dust was a silent killer, it filled the lungs till they choked and collapsed, then left the body convulsing till the minds eye closed. The faded tattoos on her arms were barry visible through the heavy cover of the soot. But despite her odious exhaustion and thirst her hands on the reins where still firm and attentive, feeling ever move her horse made. Tori Had always had a keen hand when it came to the unruly horses, no matter what and when. The steed in question was Kattah, his fine elegant head and the rise in his tail resembled an arabian but his dense body spoke of different blood lines. Time in this wasteland had left him thin and toned. his body was in perfect shape strength wise, but sparseness of food and drink had exposed his lower ribs. His long mane was tangled in spots by the wind but he still strode with the grace and purposefulness of his heritage.

But whether it was the exhaustion or thirst that had muddied her seances, She hand't noticed the figure crouched next to a sad looking bush till she felt Kattah's muscles bunch. The horse was quick as a bird when he spooked but she had grown used to his starts and held fast. The stallion skittered sideways blowing a fearful breath from his broadened nostrils. In seconds he had put several body lengths between him and the crouched figure. It was only when he stopped that Tori felt her strength faulted. Dehydration was about to leave its mark as she felt herself slip both from the saddle and from consciousness. By the time she his the ground she was in darkness and didn't feel the impact of her head against the rocky ground, leaving a wide bloody gash across her forehead. The uneasy horse spooked again when her form hit the ground but in feeling the emptiness in his sadly he hesitated at her side whispering tentatively through his nose at her and shooting looks at the crouched man who had startled him moments before.