The Withered

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The Withered

Post  BitterRot on Mon Jan 08, 2018 11:31 pm


Two years after the event.

At the time the first emergency broadcasts began to detail the news, families began hastily throwing their very lives into their suitcases. The streets soon filled with vehicles, buses full, the subway crowded, as the variety of horns blared throughout the reflective maze of towers.

The evacuation had hardly begun when the sirens came. Loud, obnoxious, ear-busting, echoing, sirens. In the distance it could be seen coming for us. A wall of dark, dense, toxic clouds. They were rolling towards our city without rush; they knew that no matter how long they took, the end result would be the same. Life on earth was about to change forever. The most nihilistic of us stayed behind to watch our doom as it rolled towards us, sitting atop buildings to enjoy their last chance at a pleasant view.

It was surprisingly sunny that day, not that anyone would even remember what a sunny day looks like now.

Soon, our city was shrouded in darkness. Plants shriveled up as if  fire had been lit on the inside of them, screams echoed through the air as people were hideously mutated and sapped of life. The watchers all dropped, one by one from the rooftops. It began that day, and it has yet to end.

This stench of rust and rot plagues us. We survived. We, and some others. Why? Couldn't tell you. This world is hell. Mindless mutants run rampant, common decency is all but fleeting in some places. Pups are born into this world without a clue as to just how screwed up it is. They'll never experience a blue sky; no, it's on this permanent spectrum of yellows, oranges, greens and blacks now. Even the night sky holds no stars, and you can barely make out a moon beyond the smog. Our world's been painted a dim grey and brown. It's hideous. Most of us are hideous now, too.

If only we could say that the apocalypse created a desolate land -- no, far from it. The dangers that lurk around every corner are immense. Sure, maybe sentient or moral life is hard to find, but trouble is never more than a few blocks away in this wilted, withered place.


The Farm

A human colony, based on a medium-sized plot of somewhat fertile land. They are a community of around fifty, and have a small selection of livestock and crops. They have built strong barriers from the concrete debris of fallen homes. Most of the buildings sport gaping holes, open ceilings covered with tarp to keep out the rain. Makeshift torches and oil lanterns light their home throughout the night.
They try hard to protect their animals from radiation; though some show mild mutations. They are constantly on the watch for ground-dwelling creatures like moles and rabbits, hunting them mercilessly in defense of their garden. Having had a few issues with larger animals in the past (deer, coyotes, etc) they’ve surrounded their stead with a tall brick wall sporting large wooden spikes at the base.

The Arena

A partially destroyed football field. The stadium is rather intact, despite one large hole from a building that fell through the outer wall. Warped plastic seats line the rows, and weeds have begun to grow through the gaps in the metal.
This area is largely a place of dog fights and shady deals. You can find loiterers and merchants of all shapes and sizes around the outskirts of the stadium.

The City

The ruins of a man-made marvel, left to decay with its memories. Towering skyscrapers now crumble beneath the feet of passersby. It’s a rarity to find a window unshattered; many break them for fun. The wilds may be dangerous, but it is here that true risk reigns supreme. In a city so vast, you never know what you'll come across. From kind strays, to humans looking for a new dog to gamble on in the fights, right down to the horrific amalgamations of what used to be a sentient lifeform, the city has it all. Around every corner is a surprise, and with the overwhelming stench of rotten flesh and rust... it's hard to gauge what you'll come across next. Despite it all, in some spots, metal still glimmers in the morning light.

The Citadel

In the center of the city lay a broken dome, glass crawling high enough into the sky to enclose it on all sides with a crown of shards. This is a place of peace amongst all; even the humans have begun to see it. Animals from all backgrounds seek refuge here. It’s a place of kindness and giving. Any whom dare to disrupt the peace are met with relentless and immediate subjugation.
The Citadel was founded by a group of dogs that wanted a peaceful life for all living beings, viewing life as even more precious than it had ever been before. A team of volunteers bring food and water to the shelter once a month, braving the dangers of the wilds to do so. This team changes with time, but there are a few that have been there from the beginning and are well respected among the refugees. Meetings between packs are often held here, as well as other groups of animals and humans.

The Wilds

The forest is dense and dark, and once you’re too far in you cannot hear anything from outside of it; not to mention it is home to a plethora of unimaginable beasts. A lake of toxins lay just west of the forest, undrinkable water sure to mutate you beyond comprehension; just as it has done to the monstrosities that dwell there now. Nestled in the middle of the forest, the stream is the one true source of relatively uncontaminated water. Despite these threats, it’s the Waste that is certainly the most dangerous.

The Waste

To the east of the forest is a deserted plains. Hills, rolling as far as the eye can see with no signs of life; even the grass is not treated kindly here. This area is highly contaminated by radiation, as well as the stomping grounds of the Rad Pack. Going alone is a suicide mission.



The bipedal survivors of a catastrophic event that they themselves caused. They are highly social, and set up small communities across the map. Their personalities and intentions vary greatly, though they can typically be summed up into two categories: Kind and Cruel. Most dogs, other than prospective companions, avoid them.

The Rad Pack

A pack of radiation-infected/mutated canines of all species, including coyotes and wolves. They prey on any smaller animals, as well as lone, young, old, and sick humans and canines. Some have mange, some have extra limbs, some glow, and some look like nothing's wrong with them until they open their maw. This cannibalistic pack is best avoided. Many of the other factions hold unspoken war with this pack, and with enough members would openly attack them; humans included.

The City Watch/Runners

The Citadel has a group of volunteers that bring food and enforce peaceful rules to the community living there. The members of this group have come to be known as the City Watch or Runners by the creatures they shelter. They

The Forgotten

Pets that were left in their homes/tied up during the evacuations. Mostly, these will be in reference to corpses; usually of small dogs. A living Forgotten is a rarity, and most likely suffers from PTSD and serious trust issues.


Dogs whom live on their own or in a small pack. These dogs are typically of a grey morality, and have no allegiance with humans. Packs are usually formed out of necessity. They/their packs are typically a neutral party, and individuals can be persuaded to join another faction.


Dogs still in alliance with a human. They share their home with one or more humans, sometimes living in human communities. They are fiercely loyal protectors, viewed by some as a threat and others as pathetic.


Dogs whom either never had an owner, or chose to rebel against humanity after the event. These dogs can form packs, and are typically aggressive towards humans and companions.


Mutated canines that have been rejected from their previous homes. Some strays will offer them companionship, but for the most part these dogs are completely solitary. It’s rare to see a pack of outcasts form, as they’re mistaken for a section of the Rad Pack and hunted down by both humans and dogs alike.


Rads - Any animal infected with radiation.
Muties - Any animal with a visible mutation.
Toys - A derogatory term for a fighting dog.
Cannibals - A word widely used to refer to a member of the Rad Pack.


[b]Radiation?:[/b] Y/N


Posts : 149
Join date : 2010-07-28
Age : 21

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Re: The Withered

Post  Agentized on Tue Jan 09, 2018 1:42 am

German Shepherd
8 years old.
Short-haired black sable. He still has his police harness/vest on, though it’s torn and tattered in some places, and has chafed away some of his fur in others. It has offered protection in fights and prevented bodily harm and serious injury in certain cases however, making it a valuable asset to his person, having aided his survival as a mostly lone animal up until this point. He does have a few scars in some exposed areas of his body, but most of them are minor. The most noticeable one is probably the diagonal two inch long cut between his left eye and his muzzle where some drunk dude tried to stab him while on-duty once.
(I would say his harness is more like this one though, with his name on it as well)
The City
He has no friends currently, and he hardly remembers his mother, his father, or his siblings. He hasn’t seen any of them since he was sold to the military.
He’s serious and aloof-- he doesn’t dislike other dogs, animals, or people, he would simply prefer to keep his distance. Having been a military and police dog before the chaos, death, and destruction ensued, he’s been attacked by other dogs and people alike in his past. From his previous experiences, he’s learned to trust no one until further notice, something that was only reinforced since the event; he’s been attacked by humans and dogs since. You have to earn his trust before he’ll let you get anywhere near him, and it’ll be a long time before he’ll feel comfortable around you. But once one does earn his trust, it’ll come with undying loyalty, protection, and devotion.
Survive. Protect the innocent… if any of those still exist in a place like this.
Being alone, having a purpose in life.
Being around strangers, people and things he doesn’t know, rads (but that’s a given), trouble-makers, young and energetic animals (he considers them annoying).
He was originally bred by someone in who knows where, born, and then shortly after sold to the military. There he was trained in a multitude of ways by a young woman; finding IEDs, attacking, taking down, and pinning hostiles, finding lost persons and tracking scent, things of that nature. When he completed his training, he and his trainer were shipped overseas to aid in the war. He and his human fought two years before she was killed in battle. With the loss of his trainer, master, and partner, he was retired from duty and shipped back home to live a more peaceful life with her police officer friend. However, Maverick wasn’t content living a cushy, lazy life, exhibiting restless and sometimes even destructive behavior. This prompted his new owner to enlist Maverick into the service of The City Police alongside him. Maverick served on the police force for a year and a half before the event came. Unfortunately, his new partner in fighting crime died during the aftermath of the initial event (they were on-duty that day), leaving him alone to fend for himself in this living hell.

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Indomita [Agentized #16]
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