This is going to be one poor attempt at trying to revive the roleplays, but what the hell I'm going to try. This is also a serious RP, so I'm going to need people to be bloody serious about this.
After a massive outbreak of war, nations were rocked by the activation of nuclear weapons. First it was the Middle East launching the nukes, then the United States, the Russians, North Koreans, and then there was silence for hundreds, maybe thousands of years. From the ashes nations began to wake up from ashes to the barren world they once knew as home, starting back as tribal clans like their ancestors once did...this was the Revival of their world.
The rubble shifted and crumbled down next to him as he woke from his fallout tomb, Charles slowly climbed out and coughed violently, this ol' Welsh man wasn't used to sleeping so long. His skin was as pale as the marble that once lined his bedroom door and his eyes were as gray as the sky above. He made his way down from what was his castle and took a look to the sky, it was stormy and depressing, almost like he was living back in the Middle Ages once again...if the Middle Ages was a nuclear fallout.
He began to take a slow walk, stumbling every now and then. The pain in his side and his head was hellish, but the pain could be life threatening and he wouldn't care, he just wanted his siblings and their safety.
"Arthur! Patrick! Allistor! Anyone of ya!" Charles began to yell out their names as loud as he could, straining his ash lined throat to the point of having another violent coughing fit.
And there's my poor attempt, if anyone needs me, I'll be waiting for a reply while twidling my thumbs like a damned moron.
After a massive outbreak of war, nations were rocked by the activation of nuclear weapons. First it was the Middle East launching the nukes, then the United States, the Russians, North Koreans, and then there was silence for hundreds, maybe thousands of years. From the ashes nations began to wake up from ashes to the barren world they once knew as home, starting back as tribal clans like their ancestors once did...this was the Revival of their world.
The rubble shifted and crumbled down next to him as he woke from his fallout tomb, Charles slowly climbed out and coughed violently, this ol' Welsh man wasn't used to sleeping so long. His skin was as pale as the marble that once lined his bedroom door and his eyes were as gray as the sky above. He made his way down from what was his castle and took a look to the sky, it was stormy and depressing, almost like he was living back in the Middle Ages once again...if the Middle Ages was a nuclear fallout.
He began to take a slow walk, stumbling every now and then. The pain in his side and his head was hellish, but the pain could be life threatening and he wouldn't care, he just wanted his siblings and their safety.
"Arthur! Patrick! Allistor! Anyone of ya!" Charles began to yell out their names as loud as he could, straining his ash lined throat to the point of having another violent coughing fit.
And there's my poor attempt, if anyone needs me, I'll be waiting for a reply while twidling my thumbs like a damned moron.