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[abbr=aporia's left thumb]Johnny Christian Rose[/abbr]
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A look of annoyance sprites across his features as the strange girl just swaggered up as if she owned the place. He could have blasted her face off in seconds. That went other any of them, and if that didn't work he could pummel them to a pulp. Yeah, yeah he could totally do that. "[b]The Badlands? What kinda co- uh, yeah, yeah," he stepped back, thick leather boots scuffing against the cement. Oh, if he could just fire off a warning shot. Just one! He couldn't, he wouldn't, that'd be dumb, but he wanted to. Fuck, of course she couldn't do that. It must have been the air that was making him think all crazy. No wonder these people were so creepy looking. " I wanna join."
" Shut your mouth and I won't," Johnny retorted, but obviously regretted it by his posture. He didn't like being mean, or confrontation. Naturally there would be some considering this was rumored to be a violent group and he had a gun, but that didn't mean he had to like it. " I just want to join," slowly his back straightened showing his full height, " Don't want to do anything I don't need to." Did he have to do some stupid dance for them? Well, maybe they had a camp. Would he have to be approved by someone then, or have his shit taken away? If that was the case he'd rather just shoot these fuckers down and run.
His head whipped over to Fenrir only to watch as he showed off his pretty little gun. Shotguns were a hassle, big and slow, but powerful. If the stranger even thought of taking it out Johnny would be beyond faster. His muscles tensed, wanting to bring the rifle back up so they wouldn't think he was rolling on his back for them. Instead the gun completely lowered to the ground, one hand moving to his side while the other gripped the barrel.
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TATIANA DOGSWORTH [abbr=17 years old, cis female, badlands warchief, savage, salty, harsh, mean, open, fearless, she's a person, bisexual and biromantic]✨[/abbr]
I can do it like a brother
Do it like a dude
Grab my crotch,
wear my hat low like you
Tatiana a newly made glorified grunt, well not a grunt, a warchief. Just barley done with her little battle practice and ready to take some action on. Stretching her arms up into the arms as she walked around the girl even offered out a yawn. She'd been awake sense around what should be four a.m. do you blame the girl for yawning a bit. But it didn't take Tatiana a too long too hear this commotion happening. "Is this, uh, is this the thing? The, uh, the group?" It wasn't hard to tell that whose ever voice was a loner, and seemed to want to join into the Badlands. The seventeen year old decided to walk over to this situation.
Upon walking into the area the teen saw the figures of; Whiskers a distrustful dude who did what Sel said, Jamison a lousy Worm, Sel the other Warchief, Fenrir who was always behind her to watch out for her, and then this unknown person who Tatiana could only fucking imagine is the source of the unknown vocals. "Honestly, I'd suggest leaving before you do something you'll regret." God why doesn't Whiskers ever shut his dumb mouth?
As usual the teen wore a black halter top, a blue denim jacket, a black and white gird skirt that was long enough to go almost to her knees, but covered up her hidden knives that happened to be strapped to both her thighs with there own knives. Fishnets under her skirt to attempt to be 'modest', while it did the exact opposite. And lastly Tatiana had her black combat boots on. Which concludes her cute little outfit of the day here.
"I'd advise you to speak up quick kid." It was Fenrir who spoke this time, he had a cigar in-between his lips, which reminded Tat that she had her little pack of cigarettes with her. After this fiasco she'll be needing one. "We're not the friendliest here, we don't take nicely to fuckers who just want to be nuicanses." If that wasn't one of the most truthful thing about the Badlands than Tatiana had no idea what would be. The group was a dominating one that is for sure. Finally Tat made it close to the group as she stood next to Fen, her lightly tanned arms crossed as she looked this guy. He seemed a bit shaken up, but then again he was just greeted by four members of a scary ass group. But he seemed rather cute, she couldn't like about that.
"I just want to join, don't want to do anything I don't need to."
"That's one of the most hysterical things I've heard," the seventeen year old smirked, "no offense, but even the greatest fighters get out numbered." Sure she didn't care for fucking Jamison but this guy didn't know that Jamison was a low-life scum now did he. All he knew is that we are all members of the same group, all possibly armed, all dangerous, all able to kill. It would just be unwise to try and attack them, specially from the loyalties of the group (well besides the shit head Whiskers).
"Welcome to the badlands though," her green optics sharp, "got to ask though, are you a hunter-type or a fighter-type of guy?"
[spoiler=TAGS | UPDATED 1/29] GENERAL
✨ Tatiana Dogsworth | Tat | Cis Female (she/her)
✨ Scorpio / 17 years old / ages in real life time
✨ Badlands
✨ Warchief
✨ Spotify playlist ✨
NOTES
✨ Born in what would be Russia, her father was a mobster in what would be Russia, had moved too the Badlands area, her mother left several years ago and left her in the hands of some members of the group, what a terrific idea right.
✨ She is a sort of baddie, grunge, little rebellious teenager, she is one with beating people up, pure in her appearance though, frequently ignoring people.
✨ She has a thick Russian accent, that is slightly rough, dominating, but very interesting to listen too
✨ Smells of a cigarette smoke.
PHYSICAL
✨ Petite, 5' tall, pale, and a smol teenager.
✨ Chloe Mortez Grace
✨ Constantly wearing skirts or dresses
✨ Injuries: scratches and bruises
✨ Aliments: 80%
PERSONA
✨ ESTP | The Rebellious Teen | The Fighter | Chaotic Good
✨ Loyal, salty, fighter, strong, stubborn, and defensive
✨ Cocky, tricky, will fight you I fucking swear, hot headed
INVENTORY
✨ .44: 2
✨ A Colt Model 1873 Single-Action "New Model Army Metallic Cartridge Revolving Pistol"
✨ A switchblade knife
✨ Butterfly Knife
✨ Glass Knife
✨ Wasp Knife (one time use)
✨ 4 Throwing Knives
✨ Wooden Baseball Bat
✨ Two packs of gum
✨ Pack of cigarettes
✨ Water Canteen
✨ Lighter
RELATIONSHIPS
NPC X NPC
✨ Bisexual and Binromantic
✨ Single
✨ Friends:
✨ Crushes:
✨ Enemies:
INTERACTION
✨ dirty fighter, strong
✨ physically hard, and mentally medium
✨ skilled in martial arts, knife fighting, and a bit of gun play
✨ address in BOLD
✨ attack in #640000
✨ can powerplay nonviolent or peaceful gestures [/spoiler]
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[abbr=aporia's left thumb]Johnny Christian Rose[/abbr]
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Who was this little girl? "[b]Yeah, well, laugh all you want, but with this," he shook the rifle, " I'd probably take one or two of you down." It wouldn't be hard, obviously, only one of them had a gun while the others had tiny little knives. Hell, two of them were tiny little girls. Not only that, but it wasn't like he lived by himself for five years to get taken down by a bunch of crazies with monster egos. Or, he would at least not go down without a fight. " Not that I, uh, would," he took another two steps back. The leather jacket that was a size too small squeaked which made him frown. He probably looked like a wimp, god damnit he was a wimp.
Overgrown, dark hair tickled the back of his neck, " I, uh, I don't know." Was he supposed to have some cool comeback to that? Like, how he was a badass fighter who could knock a guy out with a punch? He probably could, but he wasn't gonna say it. " Does this mean I can stay? Here?"
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TATIANA DOGSWORTH [abbr=17 years old, cis female, badlands warchief, savage, salty, harsh, mean, open, fearless, she's a person, bisexual and biromantic]✨[/abbr]
I can do it like a brother
Do it like a dude
Grab my crotch,
wear my hat low like you
"Yeah, well, laugh all you want, but with this, i'd probably take one or two of you down." God this guy was sort of annoying, and it was obvious this dude underestimated her, which sort of ticked her off a bit. Looking at his gun she kind of wanted to just kill him to take it, guns are always nice, she had her own revolver hidden somewhere in her jacket. "Not that I, uh, would," oh so now he decided that his plan wasn't the best idea, probably a good idea. "I'd suggest you don't take that option the Badlands are an enemy you'd rather not have."
Great he didn't even answer her fucking question, now that was annoying. Pretty boy couldn't give out a simple answer, well okay, it's not that simple. But god some sort of help would've been nice. She could guess he was a fighting guy, so a grunt of war seemed to fit him. "Well what ever you pick, you can either become a Grunt of Prey or a Grunt of War, it doesn't matter to me." Her Russian accent decided to make its entrance more obvious, great how fucking great, but the accent was a 'dominating' one. "Yeah, you get to stay here, just so you know we aren't the nicest people, it's a jungle out here."
[spoiler=TAGS | UPDATED 1/29] GENERAL
✨ Tatiana Dogsworth | Tat | Cis Female (she/her)
✨ Scorpio / 17 years old / ages in real life time
✨ Badlands
✨ Warchief
✨ Spotify playlist ✨
NOTES
✨ Born in what would be Russia, her father was a mobster in what would be Russia, had moved too the Badlands area, her mother left several years ago and left her in the hands of some members of the group, what a terrific idea right.
✨ She is a sort of baddie, grunge, little rebellious teenager, she is one with beating people up, pure in her appearance though, frequently ignoring people.
✨ She has a thick Russian accent, that is slightly rough, dominating, but very interesting to listen too
✨ Smells of a cigarette smoke.
PHYSICAL
✨ Petite, 5' tall, pale, and a smol teenager.
✨ Chloe Mortez Grace
✨ Constantly wearing skirts or dresses
✨ Injuries: scratches and bruises
✨ Aliments: 80%
PERSONA
✨ ESTP | The Rebellious Teen | The Fighter | Chaotic Good
✨ Loyal, salty, fighter, strong, stubborn, and defensive
✨ Cocky, tricky, will fight you I fucking swear, hot headed
INVENTORY
✨ .44: 2
✨ A Colt Model 1873 Single-Action "New Model Army Metallic Cartridge Revolving Pistol"
✨ A switchblade knife
✨ Butterfly Knife
✨ Glass Knife
✨ Wasp Knife (one time use)
✨ 4 Throwing Knives
✨ Wooden Baseball Bat
✨ Two packs of gum
✨ Pack of cigarettes
✨ Water Canteen
✨ Lighter
RELATIONSHIPS
NPC X NPC
✨ Bisexual and Binromantic
✨ Single
✨ Friends:
✨ Crushes:
✨ Enemies:
INTERACTION
✨ dirty fighter, strong
✨ physically hard, and mentally medium
✨ skilled in martial arts, knife fighting, and a bit of gun play
✨ address in BOLD
✨ attack in #640000
✨ can powerplay nonviolent or peaceful gestures [/spoiler]
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[abbr=aporia's left thumb]Johnny Christian Rose[/abbr]
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Grunt of prey, war? So, was the question aimed towards some sort of ranking? If so he was more suited for hunting. "[b]Oh, well, I'm better at hunting," he scratched his chin, avoiding her little gaze, " less pressure or whatever." Grunt of war didn't sound like his kind of thing. He didn't like that sort of stuff, and would probably just coward out and leave whoever hanging. That kind of guilt was a little much. Besides, killing a deer or skinning a cat was way different. It was kinda relaxing for him, actually, a moment of peace to just concentrate on his task. He had that whatever it was called, something about not being able to pay attention or something like that. His parents were ashamed of it so they never talked about it so he didn't know. Why would he want to know in the first place?
Johnny looked through the group wondering if they were just gonna stand there in a little gang. If he was part of the group they could just go away. He was a stranger though, and probably seemed like a stupid one at that. Stupid people weren't too trustworthy. Luckily he wasn't stupid, hopefully. Maybe he was? Oh lord, who knew. " Alright," he cleared the back of his throat. It smelled like garbage and piss so he was pretty hopeful they'd let him out from his little set-up. He didn't like talking and that's all they seemed interested in, it was making him anxious. God, couldn't they just let him go? He wanted to read his comics and finish his meal, maybe sleep. Not sit around with a hostile group of weirdos who just sat and bragged about how tough and rough they were.
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