S U R V I V A L O F T H E F I T T E S T Take away someone’s fear, or low intelligence, or dishonesty and you take away their compassion. Take away someone’s aggression and you take away their motivation, or their ability to assert themselves. Take away their selfishness and you take away their sense of self-preservation.
This is an Original Character roleplay loosely based on 'The Fringe' in Veronica Roth's Allegiant — the conclusion to the Divergent series.
Before you get your hopes up, no, this is not a reopening announcement. I have just logged in to solve an issue that involved the cloning of our entire roleplay by some other admins.
While I’m here, I’d like to say a big thank you to everyone still following us. Sorry we’re no longer active, but you are always in are hearts. We are considering possibly returning to this place at some point in the summer, and if we do we hope many of you will choose to join us. However, nothing is set in stone, and this is subject to change. We wish you every luck in life. Happy writing, darlings, and may the odds be ever in your favour.
Queen Nora signing out.
We are still very much open! The admins have all just started university, so we're currently battling for time and a few of our players are on hiatus but we're all doing our best and this roleplay is still rocking!
omg hi i totally want to apply for this and i /kind of/ have an idea for a character, but before i go right ahead and send in an app, I just want to know if it would be okay for a character to previously be in one gang, eg: the wolf pack, to have switched over to a different gang, eg: the gypsies? Like ____ used to be in the wolf pack but is currently in the gypsies due to blahdieblah. idk if that made sense??
DO IT! DRAMA!
But beware, if your character was previously a member of the Gypsies or the Syndicate and transferred then Lex or Trix would probably try to murder them (*cough* FORESHADOWING *cough* what)
Occupation/position: Smuggler – Feral is quite fast agile and has been at this long enough to know his way around getting caught. He would probably prioritise smuggling food, clean water, weapons and such; stuff that could be useful for the group and for trading or whatever.
Genetic Purity: Genetically Damaged
Dominant Trait: Impulsiveness
Removed Trait: Empathy
Face claim: Shiloh Fernandez, Xavier Dolan
Biography: Feral doesn’t remember his real name, if he ever had one in the first place. Originally born into a civilian family, Feral was the youngest of 8 children. His mother, a prostitute and black market dealer, always had trouble controlling him. It appeared he was the only one to ever cause her such issues, despite her explicit and ‘untraditional’ ways of making money, his elder brothers and sister were all completely capable of keeping quiet, contributing to the household and, most importantly, keeping quiet. With Feral, they had no such luck.
Even as an infant, he’d been a handful; crying from dawn until dusk, no matter how much he was fed or cradled. Despite her busy schedule, Feral’s mother did what she could to raise him to be a ‘happier’ child, but this proved difficult. By the time he was a toddler, Feral had made a habit of running off, stealing, and attacking other children; particularly his siblings. This was what earned him the name Feral and it would be the only thing his family would leave him with.
As he grow into adolescence, Feral’s behaviour became even more erratic and more difficult to control. He went through episodes of running around the house in the middle of the night, screaming and laughing as it if it were the middle of the day. He also went through episodes of this strange numbness in the pit of his stomach, that made him want to stay in bed for days. Because of his already ‘animalistic’ behaviour, this was mockingly nicknamed ‘hibernation’. He would disappear for days at a time and come home covered in bruises and cuts from scrapping with strangers in the street, either from trying to take things from them or simply because he jumped them, for the thrill of a fight.
Despite this, his family discovered that Feral had a knack for stealing and bringing things back to the house. ‘He’s kind of like a pig hunting for truffles, ain’t he?’ His mother would comment. He ignored the teasing because Feral wanted to serve a purpose, in his home. He’d heard the talks; the late night discussions about knocking him out while he slept and taking him out into the wilderness, to fend for himself. Feral was a liability, untrustworthy even to his own family. He wanted to prove them wrong but, alas, their minds were mind up.
Shortly after his 16th birthday, Feral was awoken one night by the smell of something sickly sweet in his nose and a rag being pressed to his face. Chloroform, something that he’d brought back home only a few days earlier. His mother told him she needed it because her friend’s daughter had a toothache and needed it to make her sleep. Now rendered unconscious, Feral was covered in blankets and dumped in the back of a cart, before his three elder brothers carted him out into the middle of nowhere. When Feral woke, he was alone, frightened, and without anyone or anything. He didn’t even understand why.
For years a few years, Feral wandered the Fringe and did whatever he could to keep himself alive. He stole and traded, killed and saved people, gaining favours. He even managed to find his way back to his childhood home, only to find it deserted. None of the neighbours, who’d known him his entire life, would tell him where his family had gone or offer him any help. He was completely alone. And then came the Gypsies.
It was by chance that Feral found them. He knew about the gangs of the Fringe and he knew that the Gypsies were a feared people, due to their violent nature. Feral felt he had something to offer them, he’d been a chaotic and unpredictable child, but the years by himself and helped Feral mature and learn how to marginally control his behaviour. It didn’t take him long to prove himself either’ he’d started out by smuggling things like food, water and whatever weapons he could find and the ‘initiation’ was no problem for him. Feral had never really felt any guilt towards killing people’ it wasn’t something he would do for the sake of it, but, the way he saw it, it was necessary. Kill or be killed.
Now at the age of 21, Feral tries to get by doing his best to keep himself and the rest of the group alive. He’s comfortable simply being a part of the group, with no intentions of bettering his position or changing the way things are. He’s a protective person and would likely do almost anything to ensure his place among the Gypsies. Despite this, a part of him fears that one day they will abandon him, as his family did, as that is how he views them. He’s determined to do anything to ensure that he won’t go through that again.
Secret: Feral keeps the fact that he is gay a secret, fearing it would lead to judgement from other people in the group. As well as this, Feral suffers from Bipolar Disorder but is unaware. However, this accounts for his impulsive behaviour and occasional episodes of depression, or what he likes to call ‘hibernation’.
Para sample:
Caspian allows himself to relax a little, confident that Connor was going to let that section of the topic drop. If it wee necessary to the task at hand, Caspian probably would have forced himself to explain why it was exactly that he wanted Rhys dead. However, it was irrelevant at the given moment, so Caspian allowed himself to push the memory to the back of his mind. Once he’s done with his personal decisions on the matter, Caspian finds himself finishing the rest of his drink before he can even think about it. He listens intently to Connor, not wanting to miss any important details and risk fucking up the entire task. It all seemed so simple, Caspian thought something this dangerous would have much more to it. However, with that in mind, Connor was obviously experienced and that made Caspian feel much better about the situation; if it was possible to feel any better about any of this.
He nods along as Connor explains the rules, his mind practically spinning, still not quite able to believe he’s doing this. “Crystal,” he mumbled, in reply to Connor’s closing question. Caspian was more than overwhelmed by the situation, he could feel the beginning of a headache at the back of his brain and he was in desperate need of a cigarette. “Okay, if that’s all then I’m gonna go,” he said, reaching into his pocket and leaving the change he had on the table, “You’ve got my number, I’ll see you later.” His departure may have been abrupt but he didn’t want to hang around any longer than necessary. Anyway, he would have a whole week to think, but he was certain there wasn’t any turning back now.
~One week later~
The fact that it had only been a week since their first meeting and things had already been organised had surprised Caspian. It had been a difficult week indeed, a number of times Caspian had thought about calling the whole thing off but, every time he thought this, he would remember what that man had done to him. He’d managed to convince himself that this was truly for the best.
He hadn’t slept the night before but Caspian was too anxious to care. His brain was on constant alert and he just couldn’t wait to get this over with. On the day he and Connor had agreed to meet, Caspian had spent most of the day wandering aimlessly around his house, waiting for a reasonable time to go to their meeting place.
When he eventually did leave, Caspian was more than 30 minutes early. He was slouched on a bench, his eyes trained on the ground. He smoked cigarette after cigarette, forcing himself not to glance around at people passing by, aware of how nervous he probably looked. He heard the car pull up and finally looked up, seeing Connor in the driver’s side. Caspian exhaled slowly and stamped out the remainder of his current cigarette on the concrete, before climbing into the passenger side. “Hey,” Caspian mumbled, not sure what else to say to the man.
Hi! I'm thinking of applying but I have a couple of questions. Number 1: Would you prefer to have more apps for Wolf Pack or Gypsy members (I'm torn between them)? Number 2: Were you thinking of doing any tasks or events at some point? Thanks! :)
Hi!
1: Honestly, we really don’t mind either way, we need apps everywhere so either of them would be welcome. Though saying that, because it’s me who’s replying to you and I write Lexi (leader of the Gypsies and all that jazz) I would definitely prefer more Gypsies but as I said, either would be lovely!
OOOH EDIT: More Gyspies would be fun actually, it'd give us more people to fuel the recently started fued between the Gypsies and the Wolf Pack as so far it's kind of just Lexi vs them all.
2: We are 100% going to be doing more tasks and events soon, there would likely be one going now had Nora, Ellie and myself not only just moved into uni but now that freshers week is over (best week ever!) and we’re all more settled in again, you can bet on more events being set up. Though saying that, a recent ongoing event has kinda been started within the Syndicate where a fight club has been established but that is exclusive to that gang.
I really want to join but I am extremely intimidated by how much you guys write. (I stalked some pages, I'm so sorry!) My question here is: is this RP strictly novella?
Heyo! Firstly, sorry if you’ve been waiting for an answer for ages, the other admins and I have just moved into uni and are experiencing the wonders that come with Freshers week!
Secondly, don’t be intimidated by us! We’re really not scary people, just people who get very very excited when we write and usually end up writing essays as replies instead of standard length ones. Also, don’t be sorry for stalking various pages, we love the attention!
Anyways, no, no! This RP is not strictly novella. As I just briefly explained, we all just get slightly carried away when replying which causes our RP’s to reach the length that you likely saw on the pages! We are more than happy to do anything between GIF chats and paras though!
Again, don’t be intimidated by us!
Join us, join us, join us *your inner subconscious voice*
After a night in fight club, everything in the real world gets the volume turned down.
Nothing can piss you off.
Your word is law, and if other people break that law or question you, even that doesn't piss you off.
The Underground Syndicate are building traditions. The Wolf Pack has them, why can’t they? Fight Club is a plot point dedicated to the Syndicate alone in which the characters will have structured fights in the style of an interaction/encounter. This is designed to be fun RPing whilst also developing the character and the relations with other characters. It will also build a stronger feel for what Syndicate life is like.
Fight club is explained by Trix Maddox herself below the cut and those who will be fighting first are: Ethan Wallace and Jason Lakha. I will message you two separately with extra details on how this will work.
For a fairly small group we are uber active. We have a good number and variety of characters and we are generally just awesome. As admins we like to keep things interesting too with cool events and nice tasks to get your teeth into. I’m currently working on a task exclusively for the Syndicate (which if I do say so myself is going to be bloody brilliant) and we plan on doing other events exclusively for the other groups as well to build on that segmented feel and group pride. I’m kind of waffling now off topic. Sorry about that.
i'm sorry if you have already answered these questions in the past, but what would a missionary, a scout, or a smuggler do?
Greetings, nonnie! No worries at all! Here goes:
A missionary is more likely to be found in the Gypsies or the Syndicate. They are pretty combat savvy but also have to have their wits about them because the gang leaders will send them out on missions. In the Syndicate it would be such as killing off someone who is causing trouble, being sent to follow someone and gain intel on them, maybe even sometimes be put on under cover work in another gang or the civilians. In the Gypsies it would be similar but less of the sneaky following and spying. They would more revolve around taking people out and “resolving” situations.
A scout can be in any of the gangs but not the civilians. For the Syndicate there are two types of scout. They have underground scouts who run around the tunnels finding new areas or even issues with the tunnels. Then they have topside scouts who scout the gang territory and push the boundaries, seeing what is beyond what they own. They make maps and report back to Trix. In the Gypsies they will have scouts to find their next settling location and similarly to the Syndicate to see what is out of their territory but there are no maps here, the Gypsies aren’t as organised. I am not certain on the Wolf Pack but I’m sure Nora can edit if i mess up. In the Pack the scouts would do a similar thing with the territory but they will do so via the roof tops. They may sometimes venture down onto the ground to scout that out as well but it is less likely — the Wolves love their roofs.
Smugglers can be any group whatsoever and the role is the same in all. They will smuggle goods of a rare variety (from drugs and alcohol to mundane things like matches and blankets). They may get their goods from other cities similar to the Fringe, they may have secret contacts with sympathisers within the Bureau or they may simply smuggle the goods from the black market back to their gang without being caught by the civilian enforcers.
I hope that helps! If you have anymore questions whether on the job topic or something else then please feel free to ask them!
Sexuality: No Preference ~ Sexual Opportunism can sometimes be defined as the use of sexual favors for selfish purposes quite unrelated to the sexual activity, in which case taking a sexual opportunity is merely the means to achieve a quite different purpose - Jason is often oblivious to any sexual desires and doesn’t care much who or what sort of sex someone wants provide they aren’t a shit lay
Group: The Syndicate
Occupation/position: Spy/Scout/Prostitute ~ Jason serves as a loyal member of The Syndicate, devoted to structuring and strengthening its existence. If a threat becomes imminent, or a certain member appears too easily swayed, Jason ensures Trix is the first to know.
Genetic Purity: Genetically Damaged
Dominant Trait: Intelligence
Removed Trait: Kindness
Face claim: Evan Peters || Landon Liboiron as a second choice
Biography:
He was forsaken from the day of his birth. His parents set his naked form, still bloody and crying, into a hole in the ground meant to be incinerated along with the other materials deemed unwanted. Jason would know nothing about his biological parents aside from stories of radical fiction developed by the two women who he would come to know as Mother and Mom. In reality, the children who tossed him could never be sufficient in raising a babe of their own. Not even two years later when they birthed Benny Butcher. Jason would know nothing of him, either.
They were creatures of a freak’s conception, acting like crazed beasts out of their own minds. The younger woman had been scavenging, gathering bones to gnaw and moulded fruits to drink. She dropped all of it when she saw the baby. Jason was so small, and screamed when she held him. In his new cannibal home, his first taste of mother’s milk would be tainted red with the sacrificed blood of a virgin child. Jason was cared for by them, but never coddled. Though they were delighted to have a child, and considered Jason a gift from their damnable Gods, he was still a child of Hell, and would be treated as such.
On his first birthday, they showed him what death was. Jason sat patiently, with his wide brown eyes staring naively and blissfully ignorant in the last few moments of a protected epoch. His mothers dragged the man by his heels, and though the alcohol infected his brain, it did nothing to numb his horror. Jason made no sounds, though a baby really should have, when his mothers tore his throat apart so he couldn’t scream. Jason made no sounds as they moaned while they ate, nor did he protest when they spit a chewed sinew into his hungry mouth.
This would become normal; learning to skin children much older than himself by the time he was five. His hair became as wild as his mind, but Jason nonetheless was in the undeniable possession of a matured intelligence which would separate him from the animal nature of his mothers. As he hunted with them in the dead of night and twisted blades through stranger’s rib cages, Jason watched the world through his snake’s eyes and learned what his mothers never did- prices of actions. Through broken windows, he observed families weep. Cannibals, in their slums, were already enemies of the public. Jason was held while his mad uncles and cousins were killed over and over and displayed as a warning to the rest of the animals that the sheep, who they had been eating, were equipped with fangs.
Years passed and the day inevitably came where Jason couldn’t find his mothers. He felt no fear, no grief or worry. Nothing. He left the false security of a roof over his head and didn’t have to wander far to find his mothers- their decapitated heads, at least, mounted on bloody spikes. Jason watched them numbly as the flies laid eggs in their eyes. They were with their Gods, now. Without a word, they left their son in The Fringe to survive; A task, of which, he was more than capable.
~
The cobbled streets became his new home. Jason would sleep with men and women in exchange for food. There was no use for money, here. Sex sold better than any colored paper. Jason stole and scavenged, as his mothers taught him to. When hunger became painful, he would kill humans and drag their mangled corpses into alleys to be devoured. He was smart, though, too, and watched as people came and went. He came after their absence and left before they returned, leaving only empty spaces where delicacies had lain as evidence that he’d been there at all. Jason did everything purposefully, weighing his odds and deciding his actions based on levels of meticulously formulated plans and logic. He was sixteen years old, never venturing in daylight unless he covered himself with a hooded jacket to hide his face. As often as he could, he changed his clothes; exchanging perfectly good ones for tattered fabric and vice versa. A chameleon, shifting and changing to sustain his anonymity.
Lives ended every day in The Fringe; often, multiple ones at once. His should have ended when he was bit. Wander too far, too long, get lost, and feel the sting of venom coursing through your heel. Jason should never have wandered into the forest, but the deer was close- just grazing at the edge of the green- and you never saw those anymore. For the first time in his life, Jason didn’t think. If he had, he’d have noticed the black scales under the bush. Jason moved in a silent crouch, eyes fixed on his target. He spun his rusted blade in his hand, rubbing the hilt with his thumb. She was a beautiful deer, with brown fur that glowed gold in the cracks of light shining through the canopy. He stalked her with complete and utter focus when the agony of venom numbed the entirety of his leg. He spun and decapitated the snake, turned again, and the deer was gone.
Somehow, Jason hobbled to the underground, where for three days he hid and stole from The Syndicate. He wouldn’t underestimate their security, though, and only took what he needed; Dried fruits and meats and cans of foods to keep him alive while he waited in vain for his system to wash out the effects of the poison. As he stole and waited and cleaned the infection over, and over, his health deteriorated. Finally, Trix found him, and though he was close to death, his mettle remained strong as ever. Jason looked at her with his dark eyes, drooping in sleeplessness and bloodshot with sickness. He raised his hands in a mocking surrender, but exposed his neck to admit defeat. She smiled at him.
Training began immediately after his recovery, which was quick and efficient. He worked hard with a steely resolve, familiarizing himself with his breaking limit and playing jumping rope with that line. Trix became a respected and adored companion, and Jason became her project.
Secret: When Jason was twelve, he accidentally stumbled upon a public stoning. The husband and wife were allegedly convicted for stealing and Jason couldn’t help but feel a longing at their faces. He excused it later for a strange hunger, but when the rest of the civilians scattered, the stance of a stranger tugged at something within him that he couldn’t place. His mothers ushered him away, but he still wonders what made him feel so peculiar. A year later, he promised himself that he’d find the stranger one day. Either to question or kill him.
Connections: Anyone from The Syndicate
Para sample:
Silence was second nature to him now. No longer did he need reminding to begin his steps on the balls of his feet, to stoop low, or breath through his open gaping mouth while he crept. Jason gripped his blade tightly and felt the human skin he’d stretched across its hilt with his palm. It was more pliable than animal skin, Jason had found, but it was also quite possible that he simply preferred this material to the alternative. Certainly he preferred the kill. In the last moments of their lives, Jason saw in the eyes of a human their caged animal clawing for release. All things felt fear, and fear was that thing which killed the mind. Fear was the taste of death that which brought complete and utter obliteration. Animals, on the other hand, evolved before they died. Their essence always seemed to still, to calm, and he could feel plainly with his hands buried deep in their torn cavities how they accepted their deaths. Animals were not afraid to die, but humans were; pathetically so, and so deserved their deaths most painful for committing such a sin.
Jason walked, hand trailing across the cold brick walls so he wouldn’t lose his way. Though the stars shone bright and scattered, darkness engulfed The Fringe, and he had to rely on his other senses for sight. The streets smelled of blood, for one thing, and he listened patiently for footsteps. Jason was hungry, starved even, but would wait for his prey to lurk a step too close. People were unsafe and ignorant of the proximity of their demises, and Jason found a giddy joy in the way they let down their guard. When at last a boot came down on a puddle of rain, the world stopped. Jason heard nothing but the beat of their heart echoed by the slower, louder version of his own. He could feel the heat that their bodies gave under their skin, under a layer of clothes, emanating and permeating his own flesh like a taunting pull. Time resumed and Jason moved smoothly and with all of the stealth he’d evolved with his years in The Syndicate.
A weaselly man, adorned with a heavy jacket that would surely hide his thinness, strode nonchalant with his nose in the air. He was walking away, at the other end of the street, and Jason darted towards him, breaking into a short-lived sprint, tackled the stranger to the ground. He captured his mouth with his lips before he could shout and landed over him, holding his blade to his throat. Jason kissed him and let him scream down his throat. The second he’d sliced out his vocal chords, Jason tore away and smothered his bleeding throat with his mouth and tongue, pulling him apart with his teeth. He convulsed under Jason while he died, but it only pushed him further into Jason’s thirsty mouth, and he drunk his blood with gusto. Finally, he stilled. Jason lifted him over his shoulders, snaked his arm through his legs, and took the sleeve of his coat in his hand. The tunnels weren’t far from here, and he’d promised he’d share with Sephy.
