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Born: 5 November 1988
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ALIAS: Evey
QUOTE: Here's to you, you miserable fuck.
MP3: http://itu.dk/people/jannehaugen/flash/noa.mp3
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BIOGRAPHY: http://liewithyourbones.jcink.net/index.php?showtopic=137
OCCUPATION: DRUG CHEMIST
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TITLE: THE CHEMIST
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Joined: 6-June 15
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Last Seen: Jul 17 2017, 08:15 PM
Local Time: Sep 23 2017, 03:24 AM
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MORPHINE

SURVIVOR

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Jun 20 2015, 08:26 PM
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CLIP YOUR STRINGS <BR><BR>
& TEAR YOUR WINGS
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DRINK UP, SO WE CAN BOTH FINALLY DIE [<a href="http://s6.postimg.org/5hcic4on5/outfits02o3l.png">outfit</a>]
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<b>"Fuckin' ell..."</b> The Brit cursed, adjusting her ratty messenger-bag strap across the vee of her chest.<br><br>

It was getting dark. And the ghettos at night were definitely not her favourite place to be. Not because she was necessarily scared, or unaware of the kinds of seedy deals and dalliances that went on there... but because there were hundreds of nooks and crannies. There were shortcuts, and hideaways, and traps. The 'unknown' always lurking. It was the uncertainty of the environment that had Morphine on edge.<br><br>

She'd emerged from her little, tucked away lab on the outskirts of the city to do some bartering. She was running a bit low on some supplies; the new batch she'd cooked up - dubbed <i>'Blue Oblivion'</i> by the locals, because of it's crystallized baby blue colour and the effects of the drug - was selling well. She knew she'd have no issue trading it for what she wanted. She knew the people to call on, and (ever the meticulous planner) had ensured she could meet them all on the same trip.<br><br>

What she hadn't accounted for was demand. Meeting her dealers or her buyers in person was always risky. Word spread quickly, and soon, Morphine had people begging her for free hits, or IOU's "just this once". She'd had to snap at some of them, deny others, and after all was said and done - managed to slip off with only two of the fifteen hits (or servings) she left her hideaway lab with. So, a good day, but a tiring one. The chemist had what she needed, and was looking forward to taking what was left of her Blue Oblivion herself once she got back to her base.<br><br>

Morphine stuck mainly to the passageways, the alley's and side streets. Twilight was upon the ghetto dwellers and they were beginning to emerge. To come out to play...<br><br>

Hopping over a few crumbling cement guardrails, the British young chemist jogged across the disgraced parking lot - intending to cut through one of the many dilapidated and forgotten businesses long since abandoned and raided. The short cut, while risky, would get her home a great deal faster. And was generally less populated. Except, it would seem, for tonight...<br><br>

Morphine slipped inside and began to make her way through the vandalized, quiet building - not really stopping to look at any of the debris (this place would have been stripped for anything good long ago) - and instead, kept herself focused on just getting to the rear of the venue and outside again. As she turned into the loading dock area just off the back of the building, she was stopped in her tracks. There was someone else here...<br><br>

She knew this figure. Hell, most of the survivors and people living outside of Las Vegas' good graces knew who he was. Morphine bit her lower lip for a moment to hold back a curse - before swallowing. Not good. Hush's eyes were already locked on hers, so backing away and heading off unnoticed was out of the question. But he hadn't said anything yet. He was just staring at her. Morphine could only pray to whatever deity was listening that he didn't recognize her. That he would let her go on her way without any trouble.<br><br>

Morphine's eyes flickered away from the raider - toward the loading dock door, which was wide open behind him; showering them both in the only light available in the otherwise dark space.<br>

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Jun 7 2015, 10:28 PM
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<div class="predator"> <div class="ifyourun">
35 , EX-MILITANT
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This is a character I'd love to play myself, but sadly, don't have the time (and haven't yet reached my post quota, as I just started) - BUT he is a character I would love to see come to life, regardless, so if there's a chance someone else is interested, I wanted to offer him up. <br><Br>

<center><b><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HCk4_edQRlk">NOAH'S ARK CAME TO MY HOUSE ONE DAY<br>
WITH ALL HIS ANIMALS<br>
AND HE TOOK ME AWAY</a></b></center>
<br>

Ideally, I imagine him as an Ex-Militant. All that training, a love of action and weaponry. He's obviously diverted from that path since all this shit went down.... now to what extreme, would be up to you. He certainly isn't a good man, but he wouldn't be the worst either. He would kill who he had to, he would take what he needs, and isn't about to let anyone walk all over him. Not anymore. Everyone's morals are likely skewed since the apocalypse and he is no different. Though he believes that he is slightly better than others; what I'm calling a "Noah's Ark" complex. Our NOAH will believe it's his job to follow through with that 'bible fable' and ensure there are two worthy individuals spared out of every... oh... let's say ten. He has taken it upon himself to cleanse the world of those not worthy.<br><br>

It's possible he's influenced a bit by Cultists, but not in the sense of a 'group' or belonging to any faction of them. This would just be his own personal 'gig'... or gimmick. Calling himself Noah, killing off those he saw unfit for the "second coming" or inevitable flood. <BR><BR>

If you want something a little more hardcore, he could work within the Raider category as well, if you're itching for those more violent tendencies. I think same gimmick could apply, thinking himself as 'Noah' ready to spare or save those he thinks are worthy to be on his 'arc' (which is completely metaphorical lol or maybe his idea of a new beginning, new world).<br><br>

Naturally I'm also looking for this character to plot with my girl, Morphine, but the extent of that relationship can be discussed. So if you're interested in plotting or chatting about this kind of a character skeletal structure - please shoot me a message!
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</div></div></div></div><div style="width:500px; font-size: 10px; line-height: 120%; text-align: left;"><a href="http://z10.invisionfree.com/CAUTIONTOTHEWIND/index.php?showuser=33708">▲</a><a href="http://z10.invisionfree.com/A_THOUSAND_FIREFLIES/index.php?showuser=8022">▼</a><a href="http://wecode.jcink.net/index.php?showuser=44">✖</a></div>
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Jun 6 2015, 08:45 PM
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<center><div style="width:450px;height:450px; background-image: url(http://s6.postimg.org/yxk9lnikh/w_OISKA.png);"><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><div class="title"><div style="font-family: oswald; color: #8B795E; opacity: 1; text-transform: uppercase; font-weight: 400; font-size: 25px; text-align:center;">MORPHINE</div><br><div style="line-height: 60%; text-align: center; font-weight: normal; font-family: arial; font-size: 9px; letter-spacing: 0px; color: #6E6E6E;">EVEY, 29, SHE/HER, EASTERN, PM/AIM</div></div></div></center></div></div>

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<center><h2>IN WHICH, THE END IS NEIGH</h2>
( Noah's ark came to my house one day )<br>
<b>With all his animals</b><br>
( And he took me away )</center>

<br><br>She was only lucky in the sense that her father was a successful chemist... and her mother was something of a conspiracy nut. So when the world went to shit, they happened to be prepared. The British family-of-two caught passage on a shipping freighter that was headed toward America; one of the last. Not cheap, either. She had not been born yet, but evidently it was a struggle for all involved. Families kept to themselves and stayed on high alert; the crewmen were not to be trusted, and were always looking to exploit and abuse the weakest of their cargo. People were desperate, and some did just about anything for scraps of food or wate. The journey took seven days; provisions were rationed and scarce, but her little family managed to survive for the landing in New York.<br><Br>
Not that conditions were any better there. It was as close to a desolate wasteland as one could get. A far cry from the 'land of opportunity' the country used to parade itself as. It was a docking-point. Nothing more. There was some kind of link to keeping the 'Ellis Island arrival' tradition alive, but in truth, it was merely because New York was baron. It was the safest district to dock any vessel, because no one inhabited it. Almost immediately, people dispersed from the ship. It was if all sense of camaraderie had disappeared. There were no 'bothers in arms' no 'unity of humanity'. Just families and individuals looking out for themselves - beginning their journey. It was survival in it's basest form.<br><br>
The first thing her mother did was find her connection. A man who only referred to himself as CAIN. The couple was collected, and driven to Chicago. The underground... really, the only part worth salvaging. Those who had stayed in the city had retreated into the subway lines, the sewers and abandoned tunnel systems - some even still occupied the long-abandoned buildings that had survived major structural damage.<br><br>
And this, is where [----] was conceived. <br><br>
<center><h2>IN WHICH, A GIRL IS RAISED</h2>
( Noah's ark came to my house one day )<br>
<b>With all his animals</b><br>
( And he took me away )</center>
<BR><BR>
Her mother didn't last long. The birth had been difficult and without modern hospitals or medicine, she didn't have the conditions necessary (or stable enough) to withstand the ordeal. [----] remembers very little of her. Her father, the chemist, had done what he could to concoct and make use of what little chemicals and drugs he could get his hands on. He was quite the methodical thinker, and salvaged all the wares he needed for his symphony of mixtures. But it wasn't enough. Her mother passed away in 2025, leaving just [----] and her father. Being stuck underground the majority of one's life may not have sounded too appealing. But for [----], this was the norm she grew up in. Florescent lighting that worked on occasion; grey chipped walls, dusty floors, no windows, and a makeshift lab. Her father chose to utilize their time together <i>teaching</i>. Completely in his element. He knew it was important she grow up as well educated as possible; whatever old textbooks or anthologies he could find, he would bring back from his daily scavenge. If he wasn't bringing home the 'essentials' (or rather, what few he could find) - he was building himself a small little lab. Drugs, as it turns out, were in just as much of a demand as they were pre-apocolypse. And the chemist knew he could barter and trade his mixtures for things of use... provisions for his growing child.<br><br>
<img src="http://s6.postimg.org/skqvn7uf5/eflsal.png" alt="journal entry" style="width:321px;height:260px;">
<br><br>
Life does not get any easier. [----] grows up, learning the harsh realities of this world too quickly, and is - like so many others - conditioned to be hard; to be ruthless and unforgiving and to fight for her own survival. When she turns 22, she loses her father. He had been getting progressively sicker and weaker, and no chemical in the world seemed to be able to help. She was heartbroken to lose the only support system she'd ever known - but determined to survive the world that she was born into. But Chicago held very little for her now. Even the drug trade her father had participated in (and flourished) had dwindled... people seemed to be moving west. Migrating. So, [----] did what many listless souls had before her; she packed everything of value, and left the city. Her father had managed to find a working vehicle at some point during their stay; it wasn't the prettiest thing, but it would get her from A to B. <br><br>
When she needed to stop to salvage provisions or rest - the Brit would take the steering wheel with her, as well as the spark plugs, throw some more dirt on the side and prop open the hood. Any passers-by would simply presume the vehicle was unworking and stripped for parts already. Hiding valuables in plain sight was sorely underrated... especially in times like these. <br><br>

<center><h2>IN WHICH, SHE ARRIVES</h2>
( Noah's ark came to my house one day )<br>
<b>With all his animals</b><br>
( And he took me away )</center>
<BR><BR>
When [----] arrived in Las Vegas, she was exposed to - not only similar conditions as previous cities and townships - but also skewed ones. There were people with access to some water, or a mild decorum of comfort, compared to the surrounding badlands. The class and power system here was more evident than it was in any other place [----] had passed during her travels. But Las Vegas had a plethora of nooks and crannies within the city boarders; places that could pass, or be considered shelter enough for her purposes. The old Apex Medical Center by the edge of the city suited her needs just fine. The building was in a good enough piece to account for shelter and privacy... and the labs downstairs were well suited to her drug chemistry. People didn't seem to have any need for lab equipment, why would they? Electricity was a rarity - and there were times when she was without it, and times when she was fortunate enough to get small jolts of it. They were enough to fuel her trade, and get cooking at the very least. Her father had taught her well, and [----] was going to make him proud. <br><Br>
The Brit adapted the name 'Morphine' - not wanting to connect anything from her past life to her new one, settled in Las Vegas. By the time she was 27, Morphine had a steady client base... she was able to trade and barter for the goods she needed, while providing her special mixtures of pain killers and hallucinogen drugs to those looking for a chemical escape. <br><Br>
It is not perfect. And it will never be easy. But cooking chemicals is the only life Morphine knows; she can protect herself if needed, but only barely. Her affiliation is at a Civilian-Survivor level, and nothing more. Should more violent or unsavory characters every stumble upon her, Morphine would likely share the same fate as many before her have. Her ace-in-the-hole, however... her one and only bargaining chip to play on the table... is her mind for chemistry, and her ability to produce strong drugs.

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<center><div style="margin-left: 0px;"><table cellspacing="0" cellpadding="1"><tr><td><div class="biotag">SURVIVORS</div></td><td><div class="biotag">N/A</div></td></tr><tr><td><div class="biotag">DRUG CHEMIST</div></td><td><div class="biotag">NOVEMBER 5TH (27)</div></td></tr><tr><td><div class="biotag">HETEROSEXUAL</div></td><td><div class="biotag">MARION COTILLARD</div></td></tr></table></div></center><br><br><div style="width:352px; height:262px; overflow:auto;"><div style="width:326px; font-size: 10px; text-align:justify; padding-right: 7px;">

Morphine is a cooker of all things chemical... drugs, primarily. She specializes in both painkillers and hallucinogens - catering to both needs and wants, respectively. She is occupying a small lab in the basement of the Apex Medical Center, long since abandoned. It's where she does most of her work - and at times, will sleep there - though usually she opts for a few hidden rooms that lie elsewhere in surrounding vacants. She isn't overly violent, but can defend herself if she has to. She is as intellectual as one can be in these conditions, but that's primarily because of her work. She isn't the most skilled fighter, but hopefully she can barter her way out of more dire situations. Morphine has a fairly distinguishable British lilt to her voice, so when she does speak, people often comment that she's <i>"not from around here."</i> She's a born survivor, and will do whatever is necessary to preserve her life.

<br><br><h2>FRIENDS</h2><br>
She will probably have a few friends - more acquaintances and clients, I would think though, given the nature of her little drug business. Morphine is all about bartering; she gets the provisions and tools she needs to continue to cook, in exchange for drugs and chemicals that either a) help people, or b) make them forget. She is quite reserved otherwise. A quiet chain-smoker, who often wears somewhat... 'eclectic' outfits, based on what she's been able to find. She's a bit pale from a childhood spent underground, and an adulthood tucked away in corners and her makeshift lab - which, based on the look of her, prompt most to think she is just a weirdo. I would like her to have a few people she can trust, naturally, and an extensive client list.

<br><br><h2>ENEMIES</h2><br>
Maybe a few enemies, but aside from cooking up drugs and chemical relief, Morphine tries to stay out of the way and as out of the limelight as possible. She isn't the sort to want trouble, namely because she doesn't have the weapons or know-how to protect herself. If trouble arises, she would rather try to talk or barter her way out of it. It has happened a few times in her past (since coming to Las Vegas, that is) where Morphine has had to offer up a considerable amount of her 'cooks' to others in exchange for protection or mercy... and two very memorable (but very jarring) where she was raped in exchange for sparing her life. Basically, she is not one looking to start a dispute, nor one to engage in trouble.

<br><br><h2>LOVERS</h2><br>
This environment isn't exactly conducive to romance. She has slept with only a few men, and they have mostly been passers-by - who were not even necessarily interested in drugs, or what she cooks up in the lab. Morphine is not against finding a romantic connection, in fact, like most - she hopes one day to find someone to <i>survive</i> with. Not love... but close enough in this world. She isn't the most bad-ass bitch to grace Las Vegas' tit - but she's a smart, cunning (and slightly manipulative) young woman who has made it this far. With her booming business, Morphine would certainly make a good, loyal companion. She is in a complicated relationship with <a href="http://liewithyourbones.jcink.net/index.php?showtopic=415&st=0&#entry1169">NOAH</a> - who is the closest thing to a lover she's had since arriving. Their dynamic is dark, passionate, intense, and dysfunctional. They'll make and break each other in many ways - and will be final.


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