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Ryan's basic information

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Age: 29


Real name: Artyom Petrovich (No one, including himself, knows this.)


Faction: Tech


Afflictions: Mutated Asthma


Hometown: Munich, Germany


Place of residence: New Flagstaff Science Lab


Relationship status: Single


Family members: Angelica Petrovich (Sister, missing), Catia Strovin (Mother, deceased), Nikolai Petrovich (Father, deceased)


Prefered weapons: Revolver, automatic carbine

Summoned

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Oniessa brought the tray into the study and began pouring the mid-morning tea.


"How is he doing?" she asked.


Kyzafi squinted his eyes and stroked his chin. "Batiati still struggles with the ancient tounges. It is the gateway". He nodded to himself.


A commotion grew towards the entrance as Batiati shouted "A rider from Khemi approaches Master".

Wichita's picture

Memories...

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((Found this screenshot on SAMCRO's website and thought I would honor two really good friends I met, while I was a member of thier club... Natty, this is for you,  also))


I was on cloud nine. I finally met a guy I could really like, Icejay. He is wonderful. Treated me special, not like most jerks I meet. But something still had it's grip on me..... Tara.


After a long, long day of chatting with Ice, getting to know him more and more, evening had settled in. Being considerate, Ice offered to let me crash at his place, instead of the flithy hotel I had moved into ((the one across from Beaus)). He was a gentleman, offering his bed to me, while he went downstairs, and slept on the couch.

Henerkin's picture

The Nuke Reject - Update 5

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Written to some  Wolfmother

Elijas's picture

(( Just to Clarify ))

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 (( Just to clarify something I perhaps did not make super clear


((


Elijas's picture

Rogues and Renegades ( Part 1 )

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(( Just an OOC peak back into Eli's past. Hope you enjoy :) ))


 


As Eli sat in the old Chota graveyard memories began rushing back to him of the memorial tomb in which he buried many of his friends, family, and trusted lieutenants...


 


Hell we brought the World


Until Hell was our home


There's No Heaven for Outlaws


No Purgatory known


 

Henerkin's picture

The Nuke Reject - Update 4 ((for Nat when she clones))

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((This is every night since Natasha is stuck in the cloner))

Written to the following song and Whiskey drunk:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ED5s1-Fe9FA

Henerkin's picture

Harley Warhall's Rant #1 - It's my fault, my fucking fault

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((These are the IC thoughts of Harley Warhall, an Anarchist, Sniper, Loudmouth ranting from time to time on various subject affecting his everyday life. Hes got the attitude of the 80's Hardcore Punk Scene with a touch of 'I fucking told you so!' cause the bombs they were singing about actually happened and blew up society. You can imagine some kind of Henry Rollins ranting here.))

 

 

 

 

 

Draxen's Journal #2

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* Draxen writes in his journal by the campfire outside their tent *

 

Wow what a night!!!!!

I ended up meeting up with the group down in S-1. As usual the party was already in progress by the time I got there. One of these days I am actually gonna get there early...well....one day I can hope haha.

Zane Richards's picture

Gasoline, Gears and Gun Oil -15-

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Lit only by the fire he played with across his hand, Zane sits in his ragged old armchair, a cigarette hanging from his lip as he watched her sleep.  The blanket just covered the top of her firm buttocks, as Soyala lay on her stomach half turned toward the window.  So much had happened over the last week it was difficult to wrap his mind around it all, especially her...he still couldn't believe this all wasn't just a dream.

Zane Richards's picture

Gasoline Gears and Gun Oil -14-

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 Zane wasn't sure what woke him, but it was quite late the building was dark and it was quiet outside.  He felt Soyala's warmth cuddled close against him her head on his chest, a leg up over his own, one arm draped across him, and he smiled.  She was here with him again, and the peace that brought was a warmth he prized above all else.


As he lay there, running one hand down her back over the thin tank top she still wore, his mind drifted over back over the events that let to this moment.



Zane Richards's picture

Gasoline, Gears and Gun Oil -13-

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It was late by the time Zane wandered back to the old building in Flagstaff he was currently calling home.  Slipping in past the shotgun trap on the door, he checked the other tell tale signs that would have meant someone had been here but found no evidence they were disturbed.  He disabled the door wiring to bring his bike inside, then doubled checked all his security steps again.  A quick check of the diesel in the generator showed good, so he headed upstairs.


Zane Richards's picture

Gasoline, Gears and Gun Oil -12-

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((this entry has a bit more explicit and grusome violence than normal, so well you were warned))

After his talk with Death, Zane had desided that he wasn't going to stop.  He had to at least find the means to protect those around him, those clones closest to him. He would pursue the Lifenet information, find the codes and knowledge he needed, he'd started out about it the wrong way.  He couldn't fight them head on, but he could fight them at their game, he'd find a way.

But first he had other business....

Zane Richards's picture

Gasoline, Gears and Gun Oil -11-

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It had cost a few more chips that he’d have liked but, the information was worth it.  The informer who’d set him up with the White Crow was going to reap his reward for that betrayal.  The lock securing the door of the apartment in the old tenement building was not much of an obstacle, now Zane sat in the dark waiting for the little weasel to come home. With nothing better to do his thoughts began to wander as he screwed the silencer on to his P19.

Zane Richards's picture

Gasoline, Gears and Gun Oil -10-

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Wednesday 06:45hrs:   Motel Parking Lot Credit Bend



From the moment Zane had glided into town on his bike, they’d been watching him, if it could be sold, bought or traded for Travelers were aware of it, so there was a pretty good chance at least some of the top Family people knew what he’d been up to, question was where’d they stand.



Bringing his bike to a stop just outside the motel, he sat back stretching a bit, a polite nod to the Traveler guard leaning on the railing above having a smoke, a nod back.  Yea they were watching but they weren’t really concerned, Zane had been around Credit Bend enough that while he might not be quiet family he was a friendly, and a Tech which usually meant he was here to spend chips, something that was always welcome. 



And that was what it meant this morning, but he had a game to play, and so did they. 

Zane Richards's picture

Gasoline, Gears and Gun Oil -9-

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((ok so I make a few assumptions about the facilities at the Clubhouse, figure we have cars, the graphics are there, and the water towers, not much of a stretch to figure we have hot water :P, also yea anyone who stayed at the Clubhouse on the second floor feel free to send me a PM if you "saw" Zane get up in the middle of the night.))


 


Slowly Zane stirred, his back felt stiff, idly he wondered if this was what rigor mortis felt like, of course he wasn't dead.. but was beginning to wonder if that wouldn't be a vast improvement.  Rolling over into a position that wasn't too uncomfortable opened his eyes to look up at the spotted water stained ceiling in the clubhouse.  After talking with Soyala and Nat for a bit Zane had wandered inside and found a bed to crash in, but after having slept most of the day, he couldn't stay asleep now, even with all the alcohol and painkillers in his system.


 

Zane Richards's picture

Gasoline, Gears and Gun Oil -8-

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Zane stands slowly after tucking the note into the saddlebags of Vorela's bike, taking a quick glance around.  No one noticed, good.  He walks back to his own cycle, and climbs on starting the engine he glances back up at the entrance to Beau's.

 

"Sometimes shit just ain't fair." he mumbles to himself and pulls away, accelerating the bike quickly to top speed as he heads for the west road out of New Flagstaff.

 

Zane Richards's picture

Gasoline, Gear and Gun Oil -7-

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He can hear the man scrambling through the rubbish in the alley, stumbling, falling in the puddles that dot the pock marked concrete. A thud, a splash, the clunky rustling of garbage bags coming across over the rain. Flickers of light from the traffic in the street beyond, the human rat is almost to the end of the alley, but in the dark he can't see what The Man already knows, then the sound of the rattling chain links; the fence that blocks the end of the alley.  Twelve feet tall topped with razer wire and curved back toward the alley to prevent people from climbing over from this side.

Zane Richards's picture

Gasoline, Gears and Gun Oil -6-

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With the heavy blanket over the window, the only light in the room is cast from a dim sodium lamp hanging from a nail in the wall above the work desk.  Zane leans back in his chair, a haze of cigarette smoke hangs lazily in the room, as he lights another off the last one before dropping the remains in an empty bottle.


Zane Richards's picture

Gasoline, Gears and Gun Oil - 5-

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Zane leans over the lathe, watching it spin down so he can examine the barrel for flaws, the light reflected off the smooth shiny surface reflects off his jet black eyes, he is so lost in thought he fails to notice Jared enter the workshop behind him.  The older thinner man approches slowly, having startled Zane before, he is leary of repeating the mistake. 


As the barrel stops spinning the distorted reflection of Jared catches Zane's attention, without turning around he says "Yes?"


Jared clears his throat,while he isn't afraid of Zane, like many of the normal people that survived, he is uncomfortable around a clone, more specifically someone who may be an alpha clone.


"There was reports of another disturbance from your chambers a couple nights ago." Jared pauses to choose his words carefully, "It is becoming more frequent, with you still learning to control your "abilities" it could become dangerous."

Zane Richards's picture

Gasoline, Gears and Gun Oil -4-

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A man sits in his back yard, the sounds of a quiet suburban neighborhood on a lazy Saturday afternoon, a little girl no more than 10 plays on the emerald green grass a short distance away.  He looks back toward the hows to see a blonde woman in a blue dress pause breifly at the open back door to smile at him.  The man takes a long drink from his cold beer, savoring the smell of fresh cut grass, watching the girl play.


Suddenly the young girl gets up and runs over jumping into his lap, in her arms a small kitten, a baby bonnette on its head, the animal seems to take the abuse in good humor as it dangles from the little girl's arm.


"Play with me daddy," the little girl grins at the man, "Look at my kitty, isn't she pretty?"


"Not now honey, maybe after dinner."  He caresses the little girls blonde hair, "Why don't you go see how much longer until dinners ready ok?"


"Ok Daddy," the little girl runs off up into the house.

Home Thoughts, from Abroad: Holly's Journal

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Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness...Ha! The desert heat is still unrelenting...O, to be in England...For April was no better here. Though the winter was chill indeed. Why did I ever choose to take a holiday in America!? I hate this place! I hate this time!

No, that was not how I planned to commence.

 

*over on the flyleaf, a little fainter than on the page after, the ink fading through the writing*

In Memoriam

Dylan Oliver Nils Quint

Elanor-Rose Dench Quint

Ivy Trixana Nils Quint

 

Desert Rose: an inner monologue

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Once plucked beauty fades

Delicate flowers fall fast

Desert rose needs thorns

 

Damn! Damn! Damn! In seeking to protect myself did I remove my own thorns?

 

 

(TBC)

 

22nd November 2157.

Zane Richards's picture

Gasoline, Gears and Gun Oil -3-

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The rented room in Pictus Ridge is dark, a thin silver of moonlight cuts passed the edge of the blanket over the window.  Sitting on the floor Zane can be barely made out raising his hand and the glass in it to his mouth, his bike lies on its side on the floor.  He takes a long drink draining the glass before filling it again and bringing it to his lips.  A drop of dark liquid runs down from his forehead to drip off the end of his nose into the glass dissapating into the liquor.


Zane lets out a long heavy sigh.


He turns toward the window, the moonlight strikes his face, taking half of it out of shadow, one eye glints as the other is swollen shut, half his face looks dark and wet, he snears at the light, then takes another drink. 

Zane Richards's picture

Gasoline, Gears and Gun Oil - 2 -

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He walks up the stone path toward the house, flowers line the walk, up the steps then he stops. The door's broken, the lock and frame shattered by a forceful impact, the man starts, then moves with renewed haste as he begins to shout two names, the voice is distorted, unclear, but the panic is evident.  Moving through the house he check the living room, a still steaming coffee cup sits on the oak end table, the television still on, the kitchen, supper cooking on the stove just starting to burn, he calls the names again, still nothing.  Moving faster through the house he races up the stairs, first a young girls bedroom, its empty, the dresser in disarray as if someone packed in a hurry, the master bedroom he finds the same thing.  Outside the sounds of sirens, cars moving at speed coming closer....the bang of a door slaming into a wall as it is kicked open...food falls on the stairs... the door opens police swarm into the room.


 

Zane Richards's picture

Gasoline, Gears and Gun Oil

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((a departure from previous entries on Fallen Eart RP forums.  I was having difficulty getting the point across I wanted, so trying a different format.  Enjoy))


The heat in the room causes the air to waver, covered in a sheen of sweat, Zane manuvers the newly formed frame onto the work table, pulling up his welding goggles to examine his work.  Eyes as black as the lenses of the goggles trace over each weld his thumb checking for burs or flaws in the steel.


"Not bad...could be lighter...a bit stronger..:" Zane mumbles to himself, no one to hear him anyway, no one else is up at this hour.  He takes out a file, and begins to fuss over imperfections in the welds and joints of the frame.


"What was I thinkin'...who am I...nobody that's who...why did I even do that...?" he sighs heavily taking his frustration out on the metal with the file.

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