- Joined
- Apr 4, 2020
- Messages
- 59
- Points
- 8
Character Name
John Smith
I Agree
Yes
Has this character appeared in a previous lore?
No
Age
65
Blood Type
A-
Personality
He abides by principles derived from a code of conduct--following a particular philosophy, religion or culture.
Character Motivations
John Smith survives--he likes being alive. His primary goal is to remain conscious. For food, he fishes. Shelter: builds with boards. Boards a bo staff bushel build built like a body.
It looks like this:
Often walks around. Sometimes jogs. Enjoys picking berries--10 years of solitude. Studies the works of Dewey Pastel's: Art of the Bo Staff .
Physical Appearance
Older looks--looks mid-sixties. Hair a hair above the brow. Beard. Stands in six-foot shallows. Shy a hair six-five.
Character Image Link
-
Mechanical Occupation
Angler
In-Character Occupation
Wanderer. Assuredly tails tic-tac trail tracks, bag in tow. Sees where people go--doesn't watch, though. Sometimes fishes. Always carpents.
Biography
John Smith was born on July 3, 1964 in Rochester, New York. Not much is known about John Smith, sans scant details. Perhaps for the best, as some stories are best left to the cinders. But— perhaps not.
Fate’s will is neither wanton nor unwarranted, after all. As the crow flies, there is always more information upon request. I beg forgiveness and pardon upon the initial withholding of finer details, if this is allowed.
Nonetheless—as a fellow Oculurubrus survivor and scavenger, I will provide what records of John Smith that I have: Historical accounts which (as far as I know) will not jeopardize the post-apocalyptic wasteland abode in which I currently reside. This is in good faith to those both kind and capable enough to harbor us refugees, here in the rolling wasteland of Kentucky: The doctors, military remnants, builders, and traders, respectively.
My name is Devon R. Roberts, age 43, and I am a librarian. In this particular vehicle of correspondence, I also serve as John Smith’s biographer. Admittedly, I am not a biographer. I’m not even a journalist, if such a thing still exists. I am simply recording , not recounting, the story of John Smith as it unfolds; scrap by scrap, scraps of scraps, in this little mall’s little bookstore: A corner to call my own, for now, until Franchezka inevitably calls for more bookkeeping. (I am Franchezka’s secretary—thus cataloguing the credentials of new refugees. Prestigious, I know.)
As for John Smith: My current notes linger around the year 2029. The year of my current writing, which you are reading, is undisclosed. If you happen to reside in New York, it would be reasonable to assume some time has passed henceforth, as many miles currently separate you and I—all details above considered.
Fortunately, neither the timeframe nor details need be tangled and confusing: I’m a librarian—and librarians are notorious liars, Lad.
(Or Lass.)
What I can relay, factually, is that John Smith was born to a Mrs. Sarah Smith and Mr. Jared Smith. John Smith attended Rochester Adam’s High School from September 4th, 1978, to May 17th, 1982. Until the summer of 1986, he was employed at The Home Depot—which was, at the time, only several years old. Likely as a warehouse operator (The Home Depot, itself, was but a small warehouse at the time) John Smith earned enough funds to sustain a comfortable living back in his home town of Rochester.
Records of grant logs, scholarships, and the like are—and always were—a bastard to get one’s hands on, frankly. Regardless, John Smith presumably utilized such means of university support to attend Nazareth College, Rochester, in autumn of 1986. Similarly, his chosen coursework is difficult to track down—as no record of his graduation exists. It is reasonable to assume, however, that he’d at least attempted an education in mechanical engineering.
And, here, our trail runs cold for a frigid, twenty-some-odd years. John Smith was never married—this is certain. Also certain is his maintained residence in Rochester—as well as his persistence as an associate of The Home Depot. Other than this (and several address records—nothing important) the paper-trail’s only scrap exists as a cancelled flight ticket to Miami, Florida, in February of 2015: As news of Oculurubrus had begun spreading.
And—until 2029? Very little information remains. What does remain, however, is a small collection briefly detailing John Smith’s travels in early 2028—wherein he reportedly resided (or simply wandered through) Monroe County, New York.
These records pertain to an obscure collective known as ‘The Crows.’ My research (do not ask how I have acquired it—am a librarian!!!) suggests that John Smith’s association with The Crows was brief yet seemingly innocuous—and even mutually agreeable. The Crows, themselves, operate (or operated, hypothetically, so as to obscure this date) in various ‘chapters.’ It is entirely likely that John Smith’s relations with The Crows—having reportedly lived with them for six months—were unknown to the collective’s other chapters.
Or—perhaps not. I do notknow how The Mother Operates. It is equally likely that their communications network is (or was—hypothetically) incredibly advanced (or, hypothetically, at that time.)
[Biographer’s Edit: Presumed titles pertaining to any particular hierarchy within ‘The Crows,’ either in group notion or as an individual, are unverified. They have been rescinded. Please note the black bar in the line above: That is rescinded. (Previously, this was simply stricken through with a red line, as I did not have access to a Sharpie. That draft was quite the liability—surely!)
As for the year 2029—whether it exists in your past or past-present , Dear Reader—our pursuit of John Smith, once more, is reduced to little more than dusty footprints on a woodland trail, scattered by the passing breeze.
And yet:
Some winds whisper for the abandonment of familiarity: To trust in oneself, rather than one’s tools. It is failure which begets growth and gain—not excess success's spoils. For each of our regrets is but a notch in a tree trunk. A scar, once white, green, and bleeding may yet brown, blacken, and grey in the wooden weave: That which remains by day and night—every day; every night—as a mark scored, scourged, by a lonely sunset long, long ago.
So, yes, John Smith’s trail might’ve gone cold. But trees are trees, and neither they nor this hunt can help but grow. Tall as towers they stand. They nourish and nurture the land—neither knowing nor not; naught a knot now owes is owned—one’s own, two-ton tree never downed. So if you have a moment, Dear Reader—stop to sight-see all you’ve become. Towers-tall, you likely are, with every knick, knack, knock, and nook in tow. All these things— but something you should know:
It is only the tree that grows.
Never the scars it stows.
Biographer’s Note:
I’ve yet to continue this record—as there was an interruption. But it was a wonderful interruption indeed!
The Rations Station Supervisor is an acquaintance of mine—and he’s just returned from range caretaking at the northern riverside warehouse. It was a week’s stretch, but Mister Hartman appears to have weathered well (as expected—Phil also serves as Labor Overseer.)
Biographer's Biographer Note (OOC):
(I can remove / edit out the meta-RP stuff, if need be. Just having some fun with Easter Egg hunting / playin’ around.)
Would you like your character to start with any items?
-The finest of fishing rods
-A captain's bushel of bramble hooks
-Hammer
-Nails
-A saw (?)
-I'll be honest:
-I've never built anything in PZ before
-Never fired a gun, either
-Hunting rifle
Would you like your character to start with any skills?
-Carpentry-related
-Fishing-related
-Blunt weapon attack/defense/Ripple Overdrive
(For bo staff)
-----------------------
There are some auxiliary skills, if it's alright to ask for 'em. They're more or less the day-to-day tricks a character might build up over the years. But I totally understand / am coolio if these extra points aren't allowed.
(My lil' dance to try and make it rain)
-Lightfooted
-Sneaky
-Foraging
Is your character a member of a group?
Just he, himself, and him ?
(no group lol)
John Smith
I Agree
Yes
Has this character appeared in a previous lore?
No
Age
65
Blood Type
A-
Personality
He abides by principles derived from a code of conduct--following a particular philosophy, religion or culture.
Character Motivations
John Smith survives--he likes being alive. His primary goal is to remain conscious. For food, he fishes. Shelter: builds with boards. Boards a bo staff bushel build built like a body.
It looks like this:
Often walks around. Sometimes jogs. Enjoys picking berries--10 years of solitude. Studies the works of Dewey Pastel's: Art of the Bo Staff .
Physical Appearance
Older looks--looks mid-sixties. Hair a hair above the brow. Beard. Stands in six-foot shallows. Shy a hair six-five.
Character Image Link
-
Mechanical Occupation
Angler
In-Character Occupation
Wanderer. Assuredly tails tic-tac trail tracks, bag in tow. Sees where people go--doesn't watch, though. Sometimes fishes. Always carpents.
Biography
John Smith was born on July 3, 1964 in Rochester, New York. Not much is known about John Smith, sans scant details. Perhaps for the best, as some stories are best left to the cinders. But— perhaps not.
Fate’s will is neither wanton nor unwarranted, after all. As the crow flies, there is always more information upon request. I beg forgiveness and pardon upon the initial withholding of finer details, if this is allowed.
Nonetheless—as a fellow Oculurubrus survivor and scavenger, I will provide what records of John Smith that I have: Historical accounts which (as far as I know) will not jeopardize the post-apocalyptic wasteland abode in which I currently reside. This is in good faith to those both kind and capable enough to harbor us refugees, here in the rolling wasteland of Kentucky: The doctors, military remnants, builders, and traders, respectively.
My name is Devon R. Roberts, age 43, and I am a librarian. In this particular vehicle of correspondence, I also serve as John Smith’s biographer. Admittedly, I am not a biographer. I’m not even a journalist, if such a thing still exists. I am simply recording , not recounting, the story of John Smith as it unfolds; scrap by scrap, scraps of scraps, in this little mall’s little bookstore: A corner to call my own, for now, until Franchezka inevitably calls for more bookkeeping. (I am Franchezka’s secretary—thus cataloguing the credentials of new refugees. Prestigious, I know.)
As for John Smith: My current notes linger around the year 2029. The year of my current writing, which you are reading, is undisclosed. If you happen to reside in New York, it would be reasonable to assume some time has passed henceforth, as many miles currently separate you and I—all details above considered.
Fortunately, neither the timeframe nor details need be tangled and confusing: I’m a librarian—and librarians are notorious liars, Lad.
(Or Lass.)
What I can relay, factually, is that John Smith was born to a Mrs. Sarah Smith and Mr. Jared Smith. John Smith attended Rochester Adam’s High School from September 4th, 1978, to May 17th, 1982. Until the summer of 1986, he was employed at The Home Depot—which was, at the time, only several years old. Likely as a warehouse operator (The Home Depot, itself, was but a small warehouse at the time) John Smith earned enough funds to sustain a comfortable living back in his home town of Rochester.
Records of grant logs, scholarships, and the like are—and always were—a bastard to get one’s hands on, frankly. Regardless, John Smith presumably utilized such means of university support to attend Nazareth College, Rochester, in autumn of 1986. Similarly, his chosen coursework is difficult to track down—as no record of his graduation exists. It is reasonable to assume, however, that he’d at least attempted an education in mechanical engineering.
And, here, our trail runs cold for a frigid, twenty-some-odd years. John Smith was never married—this is certain. Also certain is his maintained residence in Rochester—as well as his persistence as an associate of The Home Depot. Other than this (and several address records—nothing important) the paper-trail’s only scrap exists as a cancelled flight ticket to Miami, Florida, in February of 2015: As news of Oculurubrus had begun spreading.
And—until 2029? Very little information remains. What does remain, however, is a small collection briefly detailing John Smith’s travels in early 2028—wherein he reportedly resided (or simply wandered through) Monroe County, New York.
These records pertain to an obscure collective known as ‘The Crows.’ My research (do not ask how I have acquired it—am a librarian!!!) suggests that John Smith’s association with The Crows was brief yet seemingly innocuous—and even mutually agreeable. The Crows, themselves, operate (or operated, hypothetically, so as to obscure this date) in various ‘chapters.’ It is entirely likely that John Smith’s relations with The Crows—having reportedly lived with them for six months—were unknown to the collective’s other chapters.
Or—perhaps not. I do not
[Biographer’s Edit: Presumed titles pertaining to any particular hierarchy within ‘The Crows,’ either in group notion or as an individual, are unverified. They have been rescinded. Please note the black bar in the line above: That is rescinded. (Previously, this was simply stricken through with a red line, as I did not have access to a Sharpie. That draft was quite the liability—surely!)
As for the year 2029—whether it exists in your past or past-present , Dear Reader—our pursuit of John Smith, once more, is reduced to little more than dusty footprints on a woodland trail, scattered by the passing breeze.
And yet:
Some winds whisper for the abandonment of familiarity: To trust in oneself, rather than one’s tools. It is failure which begets growth and gain—not excess success's spoils. For each of our regrets is but a notch in a tree trunk. A scar, once white, green, and bleeding may yet brown, blacken, and grey in the wooden weave: That which remains by day and night—every day; every night—as a mark scored, scourged, by a lonely sunset long, long ago.
So, yes, John Smith’s trail might’ve gone cold. But trees are trees, and neither they nor this hunt can help but grow. Tall as towers they stand. They nourish and nurture the land—neither knowing nor not; naught a knot now owes is owned—one’s own, two-ton tree never downed. So if you have a moment, Dear Reader—stop to sight-see all you’ve become. Towers-tall, you likely are, with every knick, knack, knock, and nook in tow. All these things— but something you should know:
It is only the tree that grows.
Never the scars it stows.
Biographer’s Note:
I’ve yet to continue this record—as there was an interruption. But it was a wonderful interruption indeed!
The Rations Station Supervisor is an acquaintance of mine—and he’s just returned from range caretaking at the northern riverside warehouse. It was a week’s stretch, but Mister Hartman appears to have weathered well (as expected—Phil also serves as Labor Overseer.)
Biographer's Biographer Note (OOC):
(I can remove / edit out the meta-RP stuff, if need be. Just having some fun with Easter Egg hunting / playin’ around.)
Would you like your character to start with any items?
-The finest of fishing rods
-A captain's bushel of bramble hooks
-Hammer
-Nails
-A saw (?)
-I'll be honest:
-I've never built anything in PZ before
-Never fired a gun, either
-Hunting rifle
Would you like your character to start with any skills?
-Carpentry-related
-Fishing-related
-Blunt weapon attack/defense/Ripple Overdrive
(For bo staff)
-----------------------
There are some auxiliary skills, if it's alright to ask for 'em. They're more or less the day-to-day tricks a character might build up over the years. But I totally understand / am coolio if these extra points aren't allowed.
(My lil' dance to try and make it rain)
-Lightfooted
-Sneaky
-Foraging
Is your character a member of a group?
Just he, himself, and him ?
(no group lol)
Last edited:
