Drusilla
10th June 2003, 12:23 AM
Jephed got up, clutching his guitar, and headed toward the door.
"Get back here. Put down that guitar. Where do you think you're going?"
Jephed did not put down the guitar, but turned to face him. "Out of here," he said, meaning out of tests and recommendations, out of fifty years of clerical work and monitored drug intake and team counseling meetings and retirement planning, out of the safe, static world into which he had been born. Out.
His father knew what he meant. "Look. Jeph. Son." The old man fumbled toward him with a callused hand. "You ain't thinking of going to the gangs, are you?"
Jephed looked steadily back at him and did not answer. It was no use answering. His father would never understand how the street gangs were where life was, life bone-deep and sky-high, life rich in danger and bloodletting and dying. And they were where the music was, real music with muscle and nerve endings in it, not the pasty-soft sellout stuff that the holocubes played.
His fathers eyes went hard. "I should have broken that blasted guitar in half the minute you brought it into the house."
"So break me in half," Jephed said. His music was his life. He knew this the way he knew few other things. The way he knew his mother had loved him, giving him life before she died. The way he had once known his father loved him... not he felt not so sure.
"Listen, punk." His father went quiet and stony, a stocky rock of a blue-shirt man in the middle of the shabby room. "If you walk out of here, don't ever come back."
Jephed nodded. "Bye," he whispered. He went out the door.
~Taken from "Who's Gonna Rock Us Home?" by Nancy Springer, found in May/June 2003 Cicada Literary Magazine
----------------------------------------------------------------
It's the future. Life is plastic; you're sent to school at an early age to be taught how to be a contributing citizen. When you enter your teens, you begin to regularly take "cope", a drug that causes euphoria and serenity. You're tested, and assigned a job. You do that job for fifty years, and they you're sent off into retirement. Sounds great? Not really.
Some... some discover music. They discover life the way that it once was. When it had possibilities. And they realize that they don't need the structured life that they lead. They need something... more...
There are three distinct gangs. The story "Who's Gonna Rock Us Home?", which this RPG is based on, covers the experience of a young man who joins the Ax Warriors. Consequently, the story covers the most about them. But I'll do my best here.
Ax Warriors- In the story (it's a short story, BTW), the members of the gang are noted to like classics such as Springsteen and Elvis. Some of the characters are-
Luz- She's a sassy one. Described as "Black-leather short skirt, black-lace bra top, glossy black hair. Hispano." She's hot and she knows it. She gets away with a lot more than most.
"Big Man"- "He was the leader; Jephed could tell it be his tough wedge of a face, by the red kerchief on his head, but his curt tone." He's the leader of the Ax Warriors. Heartless, he gives Jephed a task that is cruel, and it becomes his demise.
This is to give you an idea of how the Ax Warriors are, if that's your gang. Remember-
"The only drugs and Ax Warrior needs are his woman and his brothers and his music."
The Freaks- There's a battle between the Freaks and the Ax Warriors, so I know a little about them. They're described as "all boots and muscle and tattoos". They most likely listen to metal, from the classics of Metallica to the newer stuff from KoRn. They're the toughest fighters around. Not someone you're going to want to mess with.
The third gang is The Rockin' Death. Ginger has a control of them. If you wish to join that gang, get clearance from me and her first please.
LSUs- sign up here please. The form follows...
Sign-Up
Name:
Gender:
Age: 15-21 please
Gang: Ax Warriors or the Freaks
Looks: Include scars/tattoos too people. They're not something that can be avoided!
Personality:
Instrument: Bass, guitar, improv drums, whatever. In this world, you don't have any excess equipment, like amps and whatnot. They're all built in; coolies, huh?
Weapon(s) of choice-
History: NOT OPTIONAL! Put what kind of family you came from, why you left, what your job would have been, ect.
Relationships: Do you have a person that you have bonded with? Someone that's your partner? Someone you care for?
Other: =-o!
My sign up ^_^
Name: Varda Morgil
Gender: Female
Age: 17
Gang: Freaks, w00t!
Looks: She's got the Metallica insignia on her right shoulder in black (of course). She's really tall, about 6'5, and like the Freaks' usually are; all boots, muscle, and tattoos. Not exactly the most feminine to one who doesn't know her, she's got an ultra feminine side to her that is rarely seen. There's a scar running from her left ear to below her left eye. She's got piercings up the wazoo (he he, fun word!), including all the way up her ears, both eyebrows, and her lip. There may be more, you just don't see 'em ;). She wears a black tank top and black jeans with heavy black motorcycle boots. This is the girl that could beat Arnold's arse... on a scale of one to ten, where ten is pretty muscular and fifteen is the superb female bodybuilder, she's 17+...
Personality: Despite her outward appearance, she's very kind towards those she cares for. A powerful fighter, she knows she's strong, but also knows that she doesn't have to use her strength to get her way. Never one to use over kill, she only uses as much force as is needed for the job and saves her energy for more important things.
Instrument: Bass and electric, and vocals... leads, w00t :P
Weapon(s) of choice- sledge hammer and/or nice long chain
History: She was bound for secretarial work when she and some close friends said 'screw it' and created the gang. They're a force to be reckoned with. She looks out for her followers like a vicious mother of her children, but she doesn't baby them. Instead, she seems heartless and inhumane towards new kids, but it's all got a purpose. She would die for her friends, and they know it. So, she's obviously the leader...
Relationships: her gang of course, and "Jaymz" ^_~
Other: =-o!
-=-Varda Morgil-Leader of Freaks-=-
I walked down the dark, deserted street alone. I had, yet again, snuck out from our current resting haunt for yet another meeting. This time, with the leader of the Ax Warriors. This was the first time that I would speak with him except on the battlefield. It would probably be the last. Various groups had been meeting, gangs and others, all outlaws, because of the recent crackdown from the police. It was making it hard to get on. Food was harder to find... it was no longer the trip down to the dumpster at McWendyKing (OOC: no joke, this is the chain in the story! :End) at three in the morning and scavenging for scraps left by the pampered little people. The police had been haunting the MWK, and just about everywhere else that we could get food from. They thought that if they starved us, that we'd surrender to the law. I would rather starve to death with my "family" and my music than give in to the corporates.
"Hey, Bike Dike, this is Ax territory. Get out or else!" came a threatening voice. I had wondered how long it would take for them to notice my presence.
I crossed my arms. "I'm not armed. Attack me if you will, I could still probably kick your a** all the way to Main and back," I shouted back. There was murmuring.
"Is that her?" "Must be, can't figure who else has an attitude like that. She didn't even get mad at my biker dike remark... damn..." "Ah, shut up, someone get Big Man."
I smiled to myself. The Ax Warriors were so... simple. They bickered amongst themselves, but otherwise, they didn't challenge authority. The Freaks, on the otherhand, were fun; I was constantly challenged by newcomers, and it wasn't uncommon for people to get upset and begin to beat the sh!t out of each other. I grinned again as the explosive combo of Jaymz and Morbid came to mind. Those two were often at each others' throats. I wouldn't take 'em without it though, it gave kick to an otherwise laid-back life. He he... kick... like what Jaymz did to Morbid's-
"Morgil, what do you want?" grunted the overgrown cow that was Big Man. I stared him straight in the eye, and he glanced away. No one could stare me down.
"You know just what it is that I want Man," I responded softly. The members of Ax that were behind Big Man shivered. I didn't have to yell, scream, or rant. I just had to speak calmly... and it still was extremely unsettling.
Even Big Man looked a little frightened. "No offence Morgil. You can't be too carefull these days..."
I snorted. "Whatever. I don't need to be carefull, unlike you Big Man. People don't enter my crew unless they're really willing. We don't have to worry about traitors..."
"You're walking on thin ice Morgil. I respect you for coming here unarmed, but you're still on my turf. You're still standing due to my hospitality."
I laughed. It was a cold, cruel laugh, the kind that a master of torment watching her victim slowly die from agony. Big Man's eyes dialated in fear; he tried to hide it, but I still saw right through him. Pitiful male...
"I'm standing because you're too afraid to attack me. You know that you and your whole gang couldn't bring me down," I threw in his face. He became red with rage.
"That's it Morgil, you're not welcome here and you know it. Get out, or else!" he snarled at me.
I laughed again. "Or else what? You'll send your scrawny little followers after me?"
He roared, pulled out a large, improvised knife, and charged at me. I stood there, no longer smiling, but not looking overly serious. He was just a few feet away, and I dodged his attack. His eyes widened in surprise, not believing that I could move so fast. He came around again at me. I kicked his hand, and the stupid, useless peice of metal that he had been holding went flying. Now, he finally saw that I had the upper hand all along. I didn't need a weapon. I was a weapon.
I carried through and jumped on my foot that was still on the ground. It hit him in the chest and he flew backwards, but not before it hit him again in the chin. Blood and saliva flew through the air and splattered the ground.
Big Man got up and wiped the blood streaming from his mouth. I wondered how much damage I had done; had he broken some teeth, or peirced his tounge? No matter, he still wasn't giving up.
He came at me again, and we locked hands, trying to push the other over. It was part of the gang ritual. However, I had an advantage that he didn't have...
My boot found an area that I had found that guys really didn't like to be kicked. It was rather amusing to me, but apparently Big Man didn't feel the same. He fell to the ground, purple-ish in the face, gasping for air.
"Sorry bout that, but I don't really have all night to go about beating your a$s properly," I said turning away. I looked at the Ax Warriors standing in the alleyway.
"Don't just stand there you baboons, get him out of here. Good Lord, no wonder you follow him, you'd never make it with my crew..."
~
The sun was just coming up as I walked into the old lumberyard where my gang was. No one was awake yet, or so I thought.
"What did you do now?" came a grumpy voice.
Ah, sh!t... I thought. Mike, or Jaymz as we called him, was up already.
"Nothing, just went for a walk down yonder senic path..." I said innocently.
He looked at me critically. "Right, and it was raining blood? Or, were the blood trees in bloom? You went to Ax territory didn't you?"
I bent over a rainbarrel and dipped a bucket into it and poured the water over my head. I shook my hair out, the black whirling around my head. I went down for another bucketfull when he slapped my ***.
"What the hell!" I cried out. Faces popped out of the woodwork, literally, looking around.
"Naughty girl, Varda, I TOLD you not to go!" Jaymz chided me.
"That's it boy!" I whispered, throwing the bucket down and I tackled him.
"Ah, sh!t, I thought that something was actually happening..." "Oh, plenty's happening, the question is, do we want to watch anymore?" "Probably not..." "Why do they have to do that in publid?" "This ain't exactly public man..." "Shut up, you know what I mean. It's kinda sick, ya know." "Heh, you aren't all so proper and secret when it's you gettin laid. Last night comes to mind..." "You're just jealous. "Jealous of what? You got your *** kicked last night." "You're about to get your *** kicked..."
I gained the upperhand as usual. "Boy, I'm leader here, and I don't need you telling me what to do, got it? I'm the goddess and you're my worshipper, don't make me tell you this again." I snarled at him. I had him pinned down entirely, and he wasn't going anywhere unless I changed my mind.
"You are a goddess, and a goddess in a wet shirt too," he said, winking.
I raised an eyebrow. "What if I was a goddess without a wet shirt?" I said slowly, smiling slighly.
"Hmmm... not as good as a goddess without-"
He suddenly found himself quite busy with something much better than talking. Or maybe not suddenly, but it did happen rather quickly... of course, when I want something, I don't wait; I get it. And this is something that I wanted very much.
-=-
"Get back here. Put down that guitar. Where do you think you're going?"
Jephed did not put down the guitar, but turned to face him. "Out of here," he said, meaning out of tests and recommendations, out of fifty years of clerical work and monitored drug intake and team counseling meetings and retirement planning, out of the safe, static world into which he had been born. Out.
His father knew what he meant. "Look. Jeph. Son." The old man fumbled toward him with a callused hand. "You ain't thinking of going to the gangs, are you?"
Jephed looked steadily back at him and did not answer. It was no use answering. His father would never understand how the street gangs were where life was, life bone-deep and sky-high, life rich in danger and bloodletting and dying. And they were where the music was, real music with muscle and nerve endings in it, not the pasty-soft sellout stuff that the holocubes played.
His fathers eyes went hard. "I should have broken that blasted guitar in half the minute you brought it into the house."
"So break me in half," Jephed said. His music was his life. He knew this the way he knew few other things. The way he knew his mother had loved him, giving him life before she died. The way he had once known his father loved him... not he felt not so sure.
"Listen, punk." His father went quiet and stony, a stocky rock of a blue-shirt man in the middle of the shabby room. "If you walk out of here, don't ever come back."
Jephed nodded. "Bye," he whispered. He went out the door.
~Taken from "Who's Gonna Rock Us Home?" by Nancy Springer, found in May/June 2003 Cicada Literary Magazine
----------------------------------------------------------------
It's the future. Life is plastic; you're sent to school at an early age to be taught how to be a contributing citizen. When you enter your teens, you begin to regularly take "cope", a drug that causes euphoria and serenity. You're tested, and assigned a job. You do that job for fifty years, and they you're sent off into retirement. Sounds great? Not really.
Some... some discover music. They discover life the way that it once was. When it had possibilities. And they realize that they don't need the structured life that they lead. They need something... more...
There are three distinct gangs. The story "Who's Gonna Rock Us Home?", which this RPG is based on, covers the experience of a young man who joins the Ax Warriors. Consequently, the story covers the most about them. But I'll do my best here.
Ax Warriors- In the story (it's a short story, BTW), the members of the gang are noted to like classics such as Springsteen and Elvis. Some of the characters are-
Luz- She's a sassy one. Described as "Black-leather short skirt, black-lace bra top, glossy black hair. Hispano." She's hot and she knows it. She gets away with a lot more than most.
"Big Man"- "He was the leader; Jephed could tell it be his tough wedge of a face, by the red kerchief on his head, but his curt tone." He's the leader of the Ax Warriors. Heartless, he gives Jephed a task that is cruel, and it becomes his demise.
This is to give you an idea of how the Ax Warriors are, if that's your gang. Remember-
"The only drugs and Ax Warrior needs are his woman and his brothers and his music."
The Freaks- There's a battle between the Freaks and the Ax Warriors, so I know a little about them. They're described as "all boots and muscle and tattoos". They most likely listen to metal, from the classics of Metallica to the newer stuff from KoRn. They're the toughest fighters around. Not someone you're going to want to mess with.
The third gang is The Rockin' Death. Ginger has a control of them. If you wish to join that gang, get clearance from me and her first please.
LSUs- sign up here please. The form follows...
Sign-Up
Name:
Gender:
Age: 15-21 please
Gang: Ax Warriors or the Freaks
Looks: Include scars/tattoos too people. They're not something that can be avoided!
Personality:
Instrument: Bass, guitar, improv drums, whatever. In this world, you don't have any excess equipment, like amps and whatnot. They're all built in; coolies, huh?
Weapon(s) of choice-
History: NOT OPTIONAL! Put what kind of family you came from, why you left, what your job would have been, ect.
Relationships: Do you have a person that you have bonded with? Someone that's your partner? Someone you care for?
Other: =-o!
My sign up ^_^
Name: Varda Morgil
Gender: Female
Age: 17
Gang: Freaks, w00t!
Looks: She's got the Metallica insignia on her right shoulder in black (of course). She's really tall, about 6'5, and like the Freaks' usually are; all boots, muscle, and tattoos. Not exactly the most feminine to one who doesn't know her, she's got an ultra feminine side to her that is rarely seen. There's a scar running from her left ear to below her left eye. She's got piercings up the wazoo (he he, fun word!), including all the way up her ears, both eyebrows, and her lip. There may be more, you just don't see 'em ;). She wears a black tank top and black jeans with heavy black motorcycle boots. This is the girl that could beat Arnold's arse... on a scale of one to ten, where ten is pretty muscular and fifteen is the superb female bodybuilder, she's 17+...
Personality: Despite her outward appearance, she's very kind towards those she cares for. A powerful fighter, she knows she's strong, but also knows that she doesn't have to use her strength to get her way. Never one to use over kill, she only uses as much force as is needed for the job and saves her energy for more important things.
Instrument: Bass and electric, and vocals... leads, w00t :P
Weapon(s) of choice- sledge hammer and/or nice long chain
History: She was bound for secretarial work when she and some close friends said 'screw it' and created the gang. They're a force to be reckoned with. She looks out for her followers like a vicious mother of her children, but she doesn't baby them. Instead, she seems heartless and inhumane towards new kids, but it's all got a purpose. She would die for her friends, and they know it. So, she's obviously the leader...
Relationships: her gang of course, and "Jaymz" ^_~
Other: =-o!
-=-Varda Morgil-Leader of Freaks-=-
I walked down the dark, deserted street alone. I had, yet again, snuck out from our current resting haunt for yet another meeting. This time, with the leader of the Ax Warriors. This was the first time that I would speak with him except on the battlefield. It would probably be the last. Various groups had been meeting, gangs and others, all outlaws, because of the recent crackdown from the police. It was making it hard to get on. Food was harder to find... it was no longer the trip down to the dumpster at McWendyKing (OOC: no joke, this is the chain in the story! :End) at three in the morning and scavenging for scraps left by the pampered little people. The police had been haunting the MWK, and just about everywhere else that we could get food from. They thought that if they starved us, that we'd surrender to the law. I would rather starve to death with my "family" and my music than give in to the corporates.
"Hey, Bike Dike, this is Ax territory. Get out or else!" came a threatening voice. I had wondered how long it would take for them to notice my presence.
I crossed my arms. "I'm not armed. Attack me if you will, I could still probably kick your a** all the way to Main and back," I shouted back. There was murmuring.
"Is that her?" "Must be, can't figure who else has an attitude like that. She didn't even get mad at my biker dike remark... damn..." "Ah, shut up, someone get Big Man."
I smiled to myself. The Ax Warriors were so... simple. They bickered amongst themselves, but otherwise, they didn't challenge authority. The Freaks, on the otherhand, were fun; I was constantly challenged by newcomers, and it wasn't uncommon for people to get upset and begin to beat the sh!t out of each other. I grinned again as the explosive combo of Jaymz and Morbid came to mind. Those two were often at each others' throats. I wouldn't take 'em without it though, it gave kick to an otherwise laid-back life. He he... kick... like what Jaymz did to Morbid's-
"Morgil, what do you want?" grunted the overgrown cow that was Big Man. I stared him straight in the eye, and he glanced away. No one could stare me down.
"You know just what it is that I want Man," I responded softly. The members of Ax that were behind Big Man shivered. I didn't have to yell, scream, or rant. I just had to speak calmly... and it still was extremely unsettling.
Even Big Man looked a little frightened. "No offence Morgil. You can't be too carefull these days..."
I snorted. "Whatever. I don't need to be carefull, unlike you Big Man. People don't enter my crew unless they're really willing. We don't have to worry about traitors..."
"You're walking on thin ice Morgil. I respect you for coming here unarmed, but you're still on my turf. You're still standing due to my hospitality."
I laughed. It was a cold, cruel laugh, the kind that a master of torment watching her victim slowly die from agony. Big Man's eyes dialated in fear; he tried to hide it, but I still saw right through him. Pitiful male...
"I'm standing because you're too afraid to attack me. You know that you and your whole gang couldn't bring me down," I threw in his face. He became red with rage.
"That's it Morgil, you're not welcome here and you know it. Get out, or else!" he snarled at me.
I laughed again. "Or else what? You'll send your scrawny little followers after me?"
He roared, pulled out a large, improvised knife, and charged at me. I stood there, no longer smiling, but not looking overly serious. He was just a few feet away, and I dodged his attack. His eyes widened in surprise, not believing that I could move so fast. He came around again at me. I kicked his hand, and the stupid, useless peice of metal that he had been holding went flying. Now, he finally saw that I had the upper hand all along. I didn't need a weapon. I was a weapon.
I carried through and jumped on my foot that was still on the ground. It hit him in the chest and he flew backwards, but not before it hit him again in the chin. Blood and saliva flew through the air and splattered the ground.
Big Man got up and wiped the blood streaming from his mouth. I wondered how much damage I had done; had he broken some teeth, or peirced his tounge? No matter, he still wasn't giving up.
He came at me again, and we locked hands, trying to push the other over. It was part of the gang ritual. However, I had an advantage that he didn't have...
My boot found an area that I had found that guys really didn't like to be kicked. It was rather amusing to me, but apparently Big Man didn't feel the same. He fell to the ground, purple-ish in the face, gasping for air.
"Sorry bout that, but I don't really have all night to go about beating your a$s properly," I said turning away. I looked at the Ax Warriors standing in the alleyway.
"Don't just stand there you baboons, get him out of here. Good Lord, no wonder you follow him, you'd never make it with my crew..."
~
The sun was just coming up as I walked into the old lumberyard where my gang was. No one was awake yet, or so I thought.
"What did you do now?" came a grumpy voice.
Ah, sh!t... I thought. Mike, or Jaymz as we called him, was up already.
"Nothing, just went for a walk down yonder senic path..." I said innocently.
He looked at me critically. "Right, and it was raining blood? Or, were the blood trees in bloom? You went to Ax territory didn't you?"
I bent over a rainbarrel and dipped a bucket into it and poured the water over my head. I shook my hair out, the black whirling around my head. I went down for another bucketfull when he slapped my ***.
"What the hell!" I cried out. Faces popped out of the woodwork, literally, looking around.
"Naughty girl, Varda, I TOLD you not to go!" Jaymz chided me.
"That's it boy!" I whispered, throwing the bucket down and I tackled him.
"Ah, sh!t, I thought that something was actually happening..." "Oh, plenty's happening, the question is, do we want to watch anymore?" "Probably not..." "Why do they have to do that in publid?" "This ain't exactly public man..." "Shut up, you know what I mean. It's kinda sick, ya know." "Heh, you aren't all so proper and secret when it's you gettin laid. Last night comes to mind..." "You're just jealous. "Jealous of what? You got your *** kicked last night." "You're about to get your *** kicked..."
I gained the upperhand as usual. "Boy, I'm leader here, and I don't need you telling me what to do, got it? I'm the goddess and you're my worshipper, don't make me tell you this again." I snarled at him. I had him pinned down entirely, and he wasn't going anywhere unless I changed my mind.
"You are a goddess, and a goddess in a wet shirt too," he said, winking.
I raised an eyebrow. "What if I was a goddess without a wet shirt?" I said slowly, smiling slighly.
"Hmmm... not as good as a goddess without-"
He suddenly found himself quite busy with something much better than talking. Or maybe not suddenly, but it did happen rather quickly... of course, when I want something, I don't wait; I get it. And this is something that I wanted very much.
-=-