It’s Time To Fly


I had my third Advanced Profession Test at Dystopia Rising this past weekend and I wanted to try and recreate it here as best as I could. This isn’t a perfect recreation, but goodness am I so happy with every part of it. The test was fantastic and wonderful and I loved it so so much. Such great RP and a great way to get me ready for DR:Evolved coming out. Note – this isn’t me talking about my opinions on the system but just me saying my rp has led up to me knowing exactly how to handle the time skip and re-entering game when 3.0 starts. EITHER WAY, I hope you enjoy my memory of the weekend.


Jeanie happily sat on the ground next to her uncle, joking about the outfit she was wearing. It had become obvious, even to the iron, how much her confidence had grown over the past few months. And while she was nervous about her test happening today, likely from Delta, she was still happy. Though, definitely still nervous. It was hard to not be nervous when she found out that Dr. Hibiki, from last night’s medical procedure with patient zero of this unknown disease, had given samples of the disease to Delta, her teacher. The nervousness got worse when she had been told that those who were working on learning to be saint’s of their faith were told they were going to be involved in her test. Then again, she could do this. She’d succeeded so far. She had grown confidence in herself and knew what she was capable of. She could do this, no matter how deadly it would likely be.

Take a deep breath. Don’t worry about. Focus on the fact that Charles is judging the red and black Krey outfit his seamstress had chosen. Focus on the fact that he had called her last outfit a sexy librarian. Anything but her nerves.

There were footsteps coming up behind her. Jeanie turned and looked to see who was walking up to the post office, where they all sat. Dr. Hibiki and Delta together. Dr. Hibiki held a briefcase in his hands.

“Hello!” Delta looked so incredibly excited. Today, his face was green like the leaves growing on most of the trees. But between some of the leaves, hidden in the shadows they created, twinkled two bright childish eyes.

“I should probably get up,” Jeanie muttered under her breath, nervous, but ready. It was time. With a deep breath and some continued conversation that she only half heard, she headed into the library with Delta and Dr. Hibiki to find Idle and gather everyone else who was going to be involved.

“So Delta, I heard that Dr. Hibiki gave you a blood sample from last night’s diseased patient,” Jeanie turned to her teacher, refusing to acknowledge all the hurt that she still held from his actions a few years ago.

“Nah! We’re gonna take that sample and put it inside you! Cause you’ve already had so many diseases and been so irradiated that it’ll either force your body to mutate past the disease or it’ll kill you. But you’re the best person to test and study this disease on! I think you’ll evolve past it.”

Jeanie took a deep breath and turned to Idle and Lyra who were setting up the library into a make shift surgery bay. “Remember what I told you about the disease last night and what I thought would happen? Yeah? Well, I knew it!” She turned back to Delta.

“So what do you think about that?” he asked with a huge grin! He was practically bouncing with excitement.

Jeanie rocked her head from side to side. “Given what I saw of the disease last night, it has solid scientific theory behind it and I understand why I’m the most valid test subject for this research. That said, as a scientist, I’m a little angry that I can’t be watching this happen to take down notes and data because this disease is utterly fascinating. I’m not saying I won’t do it. Just that I wish I could watch it happen.”

She looked over at those continuing to set up. Idle was taking charge and discussing notes and theories with Dr. Hibiki. Quinzie, Sigmund, and Lyra were helping set up and praying. Dr. Candy was there prepping the area and ensuring tools were clean and people were inoculated so that they wouldn’t catch the disease. Jeanie made a quick comment about how she’d be right back. She wanted to make sure she had water near by since it would likely be an exhausting process. Plus, it would let her find Charles and Spooky Jak. She wanted them to know that it was time. She wanted them to know who had her will and what to do with her items on the off chance that something went horrifically wrong. She didn’t believe anything would go wrong, but it didn’t hurt to be ready. Especially with how deadly this disease could be.

It wasn’t long til she was laying down on the bed with everyone surrounding her.

Dr. Hibiki took a syringe full of diseased blood and grabbed her right arm, pumping it into her body. Jeanie balled her hand into a fist trying to ignore the sensation of a needle piercing through the skin for the first time in almost two years. It had to be her right forearm. That was a sensation she wanted to forget.

It wasn’t long before her body started showing symptoms of the infection now raging within her. She started shivering as her body started to spike a fever. Her joints started to ache. Quinzie looked over Jeanie and let everyone know what was going on. The iron closed her eyes and listened as Spooky Jak, Tri, and Idle were debating what brew to use next. Jeanie reminded everyone in the group that the brews would not work as normal and to not expect that any of them would do what this team wanted.

They helped Jeanie up and Idle poured a brew down Jeanie’s throat. Then new symptoms would appear as the disease mutated in response to the brew. Over and over. Help the Iron sit up. Help her drink another brew. Take syringes of people’s blood and pump them into her arms. Repeat the process with addictive drugs, including drugs the Iron had struggled with. Over and over the symptoms would change. Her nerves were on fire. She was shaking with fever. She was dissociating and losing chunks of memory and comprehension. She curled onto her side in pain as a tumorous growth started forming in her stomach and then popped with a burst of radiation through the room. Her heart stopped and then she jumped up with a gasp as one of the priests called down the power of their faith into her. At one point, Idle asked for permission to put Mother’s Milk into Jeanie’s arm. Jeanie shuddered and agreed, if only because none of the drugs were acting as they were supposed to and she had yet to feel any of the familiar responses to any of the drugs that she already knew. Besides, it was for science. It was for faith. She had to believe that she would get through this and the team truly believed that Mother’s Milk was the right option at the time.

Thank Savanna that Jak Warner wasn’t around to see it at least.

It was going relatively well, for the most part. Til things started to spiral in the wrong direction. Something was wrong. Jeanie could feel it. Something was horribly horribly wrong. Something was mutating painfully. Her mind raced. What could be going on? What happened last night that could explain this? She remembered the image of the Remnant from last night. Watching as the woman’s eyes started to physically grown and the ridges that were her remnant mutation started shrinking and disappearing. Jeanie screamed, asking to know what was happening. Was she still glowing? Was she even still an Iron? She had worked so hard to come to an understanding with her strain. Her confidence in herself had grown. She didn’t know if she wanted that to change anymore. What was she becoming?

Jeanie started to cry and dropped the rad rods she had been holding for comfort. Tears sliding down her face. “Why am I doing this? What’s the point?” The iron had grown so much and gained so much. Was evolution worth it if it meant changing everything that brought her to this point? Even Delta had said to not ignore what she had been through and what she was? So why were they changing it now? Was everything a lie? It had to be a lie. Finch was wrong. Sparrow was wrong. Delta. Spooky Jak. They were all wrong. She couldn’t do this. It was wrong. She had to get up. She had to go.

Jeanie sat up and a burst of power shot through her hands and into Nell, freezing the Rover into place. She had to get out of here. Hands started trying to stop her and sit her down. She was carrying an unknown disease that was incredibly deadly after all. They couldn’t let her leave, but she couldn’t stay. People wouldn’t leave her alone. Goodness, why wouldn’t they leave her alone? She felt the power burst out of her hands again. Over and over. Everyone kept trying to stop her from leaving. Everyone kept trying to push her down onto the bed. And every time she shot a burst of power out of her hands, freezing them and keeping them from touching her. Charles picked up his niece. She struggled in his arms, trying to get free, shooting power into him that he kept resisting.

“Hold her down. Get rope. We have to tie her down,” he shouted as he placed her back on the bed. Everyone’s hands were pushing down on the iron. She kept fighting back. It wasn’t worth it. She had to leave. She kept fighting back as they rolled her over to her side. She kept fighting back til she felt her uncle’s fist slam into the back of her head and the world went black.

She woke up convulsing and straining against the ropes that held her down as the procedure continued. More syringes. More brews being poured down her throat. More pain and fire and ache. More exhaustion as more and more of her body struggled.

It wasn’t long before she closed her eyes and her body relaxed. It wasn’t long before she slipped into a coma.

“Darwinism is about getting stronger than you already are. About getting better. A curie is our leader. Like a mom. Disco is like the mom of our church,” Cal carefully explained to the scared and curious Iron as they both sat in the Double Tap. It was her first time in a town after finally escaping from Motor City two months ago.

“Jeanie you can do this,” someone said.

“Darwinism is like the butterfly in the story I just read to you,” Disco explained. “You’re the caterpillar. But you’ll grow and things will be rough. You’ll find yourself hurting and feeling awful. That’s like being in the cocoon. But then, you’ll break free of it all. You’ll find you changed. You’ll be the butterfly.”

“Jeanie’s cocooned herself. She’s stuck in her head. She’s turning into her butterfly and we just have to give her the strength to break free. Everyone grab hands. We can get her out of this.”

Jeanie stared out the door of the room where the nuclear reactor sat under the Double Tap. Disco had just run out into the snow to grab the rad rod that had shot out when Jeanie found it in the pipes. The rest of the crew smiled at the fact that they had together fixed the reich’s computer and figured out how to get the reactor working finally. Disco walked back in and held out the glowing green rod. “Hey kid. Here’s the rad rod you shot out of the reactor. Welcome to the faith!” Disco’s smile peaked out from under the metal mask that hid her rotting skin. There was pride there in the young Iron who had just figured out how to fix the nuclear reactor and save the town.

“Jeanie,” Spooky Jak’s voice could faintly be heard from far away. “You’ve come so far. Believe in yourself. This is your chance to grow.”

“Prove to me why you want this radiation again?” Jenna asked, the rainbow mohawk fluttering in the breeze from the window. Jeanie thought quietly a moment before answering “because radiation leads to mutation and growth. There’s scientific evidence for that. I want to grow and I trust it to help me.” Jenna smiled and opened the led box she held, revealing the blue glow inside it.

“It’s time to wake up!” another voice called to her.

“I see the changes in your body already,” Tiren explained as they sat on the steps of the Church in the summer night’s heat. “Your genes are already changing. You’re going to do great things one day.”

“Jeanie,” Nell’s voice cut through the memories. “You don’t need me to be your therapist anymore. Now I’m just your friend.”

Jeanie looked down at the dying Ascensorite in her arms. His blood covered the snowy ground. His blood covered the Iron’s hands. Delta coldly stared down at the broken Iron and the mutilated man she held. “Evolution is supposed to be painful,” he spat out.

“There is no future. There is no past.” Charles began to sing. “I live this moment as my last.”

Jeanie cried. This was the man who had cheered her on. This was the one who understood her struggles as an Iron. This was the one who knew how to help her grow. This was the love of her life. “Jeanie,” he croaked out with ragged breath, “Be the bird I know you’re meant to become.”

“Jeanie,” Delta’s voice cut through everything she was reliving. “It’s time to break your chains. It’s time to fly.”

Slowly the iron began twitching on the cot. Her body started shifting as her mind returned to the present. To the people around her, cheering her on. Her eyes fluttered open and she slowly sat up.

Everyone quietly watched, waiting.

The iron’s body shuddered and convulsed. Her head flew backward as a rad cloud burst from her chest and into the room. Most of the room dropped to the floor with shouts of pain. Jeanie sat there, feeling the warmth of the glow settling around her. It felt soothing. It gave her strength.

Jeanie caught eyes with Delta and his face burst into a grin.

Jeanie had evolved.


Freedom is a Gift


Dystopia Rising just had some AMAZING massive national level plot. They had realized there were some problematic elements in their story/world. They were working on rewriting and updating it and built that into plot rather than ending everything and starting over (which I personally love) and one of those stories that came out of these massive world updates involved the entire world working together to overthrow slavery. It’s been fantastic. Part of this included the entire plot line of their yearly springtime national event Uprise. For those of us who stayed at home, we got to be involved in some fantastic plots that could effect those playing at the event, such as volunteering our characters to go fight on the front lines and take injuries and deaths to help make it easier on the players at the event. I had my Unborn participate. This is her story.


The Unborn knelt down and very slowly scooped the dirt into her hands while looking up across the field. The Vee-Dubs were leading the charge with their motorized caravans. There was a huge crowd of people gathered from various settlements. All of them here for the same reason, to take down the Iron Works. The world was finally starting to understand that treating people as less than equal to everyone else is completely and utterly wrong. The ancestors gave everyone the infection. The ancestors invited everyone into the great whole. The ancestors chose to make everyone equal. The ancestors gave everyone the gift of freedom. And these people here at the Iron Works decided to try and other the red workers and treat them as lesser.

Anyxa brushed the dirt onto her hands and stood. The words of the not dead one, the town called him Spooky Jak, echoed in her mind. The call to arms. We had this fight of our own, but it was time for the rest of the wastes to fight too. The teeth, the one they called Jackal, was going as well. Together they were gathering town folk to fight. Anyxa chose to go with them.

She stood slowly, green skin, soot smears, and eyes blaring. She grinned with wicked glee.

The group was quiet. There was tension in the air as everyone looked across the field. The Iron Works soldiers were staring them down. On the other side of the field was a large stash of missiles. That was the goal. Get the missiles for the resistance. Use them to fire on the enemy so that when everyone else went in to fight, there were less troops and tanks to hurt them. The more we could get out now, the better the chance in the long run.

The wastes went silent for a moment.

Then there was a large scream.

Two worlds ran towards each other. The Vee-Dubs engines roaring. Anyxa cackled and flung her hands out to her sides, feeling the burning heat fill her fingertips. Explosions rang out. Dirt flying up with the smoke and clouding vision. Gunshots peppered the air.

Anyxa screamed and threw her hand forward, pushing the fire from her hands into the nearest Iron Works soldier. “Freedom is a gift from the Ancestors, you fucker!” Anyxa slammed her fist into his shoulder. She may not have been good at punching, but she felt the power flow through her fist. The soldier stared up at her in terror and screamed as he curled onto the ground to protect his face from the visions that she placed in his heads. The Unborn giggled as she threw more and more fire at him.

There was a screaming whistle and then an explosion. Anyxa felt her body get thrown backwards. She felt the familiar burning just like Devil’s Rest and looked down to see the edge of her sleeves singed and burning. She saw the familiar twisted black flesh of burnt skin on her arms. Anyxa screamed in delight. She closed her eyes and breathed in the fire burning around her.

God, she loved fire.

She could thank the Hansfields for that.

She screamed in delight and looked around for the nearest soldier to go after.

“She!” Brother Claudio screamed,” Behind you!”

The Unborn spun around in time to watch the soldier’s blade stab into her gut. He screamed and yanked the blade out before stabbing again into her chest as she fell. She landed on her side. From the corner of her eyes she watched Brother Claudio fall. She closed her eyes as the world became peaceful.

She felt joy.

She felt ecstatic.

She felt the ancestors reaching for her.

She felt the cold steal slice through her neck and the world went cold.



Another  Dystopia Rising story from another Dystopia Rising game. It stars my Unborn. The song she is singing is “Minority” by Green Day.


“I wanna be the minority. I don’t need your authority”

The Unborn sang, gathering pieces of kindling from the ground. She held the edge of her brown wool coat in one hand to build a basket and slipped the driest twigs she pulled from the ground into the basket.

“Down with the moral majority, ‘cause I wanna be the minority.”

She brought the small pile that she had gathered over to the small ring of rocks and began to pile them up carefully in the middle of the ring. Keep them loose to allow for lots of air flow. Make sure there is plenty of kindling in the center, under the pile of sticks branches, but plenty left over to build up around it. This way the flames will lick the branches and build the bonfire.

“I pledge allegiance, to the underworld. One nation under dog, there of which I stand alone.”

Off to the side there was a pile of sticks and branches thrown to the ground. The Unborn made her way over to the pile and began grabbing some of the smaller branches. These branches would be built up around the kindling pile. They would burn longer when caught and help the larger branches to catch and stay caught rather than the fast burning kindling.

“A face in the crowd, unsung against the mold.”

The Unborn smiled as she sang and worked. She carefully piled the sticks and small branches around the kindling. She carefully stuffed excess kindling between the sticks. All the while building up the pile and continuing to sing and smile, her body swaying slightly in time to her song.

“Without a doubt, singled out,the only way I know.”

Back to the pile of branches she had gathered. She gathered the rest of the larger branches and began to stack them on the outside of her current small structure of sticks and kindling. She smiled as she put each stick down, carefully circling these sticks around the pile.

“Cause I wanna be the minority. I don’t need your authority.”

The Unborn placed the final branches into their spots with a smile. She glanced at the pile that she had created and nodded, carefully shifting the branches around til every one of them was placed exactly as she wanted. She grinned and lowered her face while keeping her gaze on the pile of sticks steady.

“Down with the moral majority, ‘cause I wanna be the minority.”

She dug into her pocket and pulled out the lighter. She grinned at her reflection in the side of the polished metal piece. Green skin, purple veins, black soot streaked across her face, gauze mask wrapped around her eyes.

“Stepped out of the line, like a sheep runs from the herd.”

The Unborn flicked the top of the lighter open with it’s familiar and reassuring click.

“Marching out of time, to my own beat now. The only way I know.”

She slid her thumb along the roller and watched a flames spark to life.

“One light, one mind, flashing in the dark.”

She held a small twig up to the flame and watched as it licked the twig and lit it to life.

“Blinded by the silence of a thousand broken hearts”

The Unborn flicked the lighter shut and slipped it back into the pocket of her jeans. She reached forward with the lit branch and slid it into the pile, into the collection of kindling. She let go of the branch and smiled, watching the flames dance from twig to twig and start to consume the pile.

“For crying out loud, she screamed unto me.”

The Unborn stood up and grinned at her creation. She swayed back and forth to the beat of the song and in time with the lyrics from her lips and closed her eyes beneath the gauze mask that she had worn for years due to the Fallow Hope caravan.

“A free for all, fuck ‘em all. You’re on your own side.”

She spun around and threw her hands out as she spun. The caravan would have scolded her for these actions. Dancing in the woods at night around a campfire would have led to her getting into a lot of trouble with Father Jacob. She smiled brightly as she spun around with glee.

“Cause I wanna be the minority. I don’t need your authority.”

The Unborn began singing as loud as she could, almost shouting out the lines in the light of the campfire.

“Down with the moral majority.”

She screamed out the lines as she yanked the mask off her head. No more mask. No more of Father Jacob’s orders or the caravan’s rules deciding how she acts years after being away from them and in a new town. No more of the past holding her hostage.

Now it’s time for the young Unborn to walk with her head held high, marching to her own drum.

The young Unborn screamed the last line of the song as she tossed the mask into the flame and watched it burn.

“Cause I wanna be the minority.”



New short story based on the events of last game. This one is from the perspective of She. As always, the main character is my own. The other characters mentioned in the scene are products of their own players. Jackal is the creation of another player and was used with his permission and input. Let’s just say, I’m really excited for this upcoming game!


“What’cha doin?” Jackal asked, his face popping up and blocking the light from the campfire that they had built together.

The Unborn looked up from her work and rolled her white and black eyes. “You’re in my light,” she muttered.

Jackal shifted over a small bit and poked at the leather vest in the Unborn’s hands. “But really, what’cha doin?”

The Unborn sighed and brushed Jackal’s hand away from the vest. She picked up the small surgical knife and went back to carefully cutting the threads that held the blue and white patches onto the back of the vest. “I’m cutting off these rockers.”

“Pretty sure those ain’t rocks.”

“Rockers. Patches. Same thing. I never asked why they were called it.”

Jackal licked his blood stained lips and watched for a moment as the Unborn continued. Slice through a few threads, pull up on the patch so that it was easier to slice through more threads. The more she cut, the faster she got at removing the triangular patch from the vest.

“Wait, does that mean you’re not in Warsong anymore?”



The Unborn looked up and glanced over to the Semper. “Let’s just say, the final straw was being told they didn’t have time to deal with my coming back from the grave and the screaming pain in my head and hands.” The Unborn paused and looked at her palm. She remembered the burning sensation in her fingers before pausing to shake her hands and going back to snipping away the threads that held the patch in place.

“That sounds really shitty.”

The Unborn nodded her head. “Yup.”


The Unborn paused with a groan and glared at the Semper. “Anyxa.”


“Anyxa. My name is Anyxa. Not she. Anyxa.”

“Oh… Then why do people call you she?”

Anyxa groaned and put the surgical knife down in her lap. “Because I didn’t use names. I wanted to show respect to people. To acknowledge that the ancestors invited them to the great whole just like everyone else. But no, ass holes don’t give a flying fuck who or what they do and respect. It’s all hide your face. Don’t scare them with your power. Don’t be alone. Save people but don’t come near the dying. Help the town but be nowhere near the problem. Don’t be trusted because of the power you have and where you’re from.” Anyxa paused and ripped the last few threads with a sharp yank on the patch, separating it from the leather vest. “Be held at arms length even though we promise we’ll take care of you. Fucking liars.”

Jackal stared a moment, licking his lips and sniffing as he turned to look into the woods. A quiet “I’m hungry,” muttered from his lips and then he turned back to Anyxa with a  shrug. “Yeah, people can be dicks. But actually, I more wanted to know why you were talkin all normal now and not like you usually do.”

“Because these fuck heads,” Anyxa glared at the patch in her hands, “don’t seem to care about respecting me so why would I respect them?”

“Oh yeah. I guess that makes sense.”

Anyxa pulled a square lighter from her pocket and grinned. She could see Jackal’s eyes light up in the glow of the campfire. She flicked open the top and with a swipe of her thumb, pulled a flame to the top of the lighter.

“If you don’t have time for me,” she muttered holding the patch over the flame so the flame could lick and taste it before beginning to consume the fabric and paint, “then I don’t have time for you, mother fuckers.”

Jackal grinned. “What’cha gonna do now? Hunt ‘em down? Can I come?” He balled his fists up and pulled them back, bouncing and ready to go.

Anyxa tossed the burning patch into the campfire.

“I’m gonna watch the world burn!”

Stop Me


This is one of the moments from the most recent DR event. It was a really intense event, which is why it needed me to write up what happened in it as opposed to a between the gathers moment. As always, Jeanie is my own character and the others are from the players who created them. I’m just writing down what happened in this scene as best as I can remember it


Just a few minutes ago, the iron had been laughing and making obscene gestures at Father Ezra and his posse. His statements of necessary discipline had been a laughable joke. He was insane. He was wrong.

But he still had power.

Power to command an army. Power to mess with the head of an Iron Engineer. Power to get an Iron who lividly hated everything the Hansfield’s stood for to stand at attention, between him and her town, her Curie, her friends, ready to take a bullet for this awful man.

“We’ll see who has power when your organs become my lunch,” a full dead hissed through clenched teeth.

Jeanie felt her body glance over to Zero, standing at Father Ezra’s right side, and back to the Full Dead. She gripped her knucks tighter, ready to punch the Full Dead and send him flying across the room. Stop it! Let me go you fuck head! The Iron’s eyes narrowed and glanced at the rest of the crowd. The Curie leaned back with his arms crossed. Not a current threat. The Full Dead kept leaning in with his arms gripping the table edge. A threat, but closer to Zero. Nell was walking to the back of the group. Jeanie watched as her body moved on it’s own, shifted to make sure she could lunge between Father Ezra and the Rover.

Nell! Help me! Please! Don’t make me do this

The Iron’s eyes darted back to the Curie who discussed with Father Ezra’s broken and bloodied body. Everyone had something to say. Everyone was angry and harsh. The Curie was the only one who chose his words carefully. The only one who was paying attention.

“Did anyone notice how while we were discussing, the Irons were planning with each other on how to save him?”

Yes! Thank you! Now, please stop me! I don’t want to defend him.

“I think I want to go outside,” Father Ezra calmly stated, knowing that his men were circling around to the back of the building.

Jeanie watched, horrified as her hand darted out and placed it self on Father Ezra’s body. She felt the surge of power gathering. She felt the warmth as the radiation shot out of her hand and into his body, knitting every piece of him back to perfect health. No! Savannah would be right to shoot me down for this! To call down the power of faith into a man who was her enemy. But she couldn’t stop herself. She couldn’t even get her mouth to form the words she wanted to say.

The Hansfield soldiers burst through the door and grabbed Father Ezra. Zero hurried after them. Please no. I don’t want to go with him. Jeanie’s body turned and began to hobble after the Father, her left and useless leg dragging with each struggled step. Please Spooky. Someone. Please stop me. Help.

They hurried after, focused on Father Ezra and not the Iron who was unable to stop her body from moving forward, unable to stop herself from protecting him. Somebody! Help me! Please help! Her lips never moved. Jeanie’s grip on her knucks tightened.

“She’s a priest!” Someone noticed Jeanie protecting the man she hated. She felt her head turn to glare at the Natural One who said it, right as the flat edge of his sword slammed into her arm, shattering the bone. Hummingbird swung again shattering the bone of her other arm. “She can’t heal him now.” Thank you. Now Stop me from following him. “Take him to a cabin where no one is around,” Hummingbird continued, “Get information out of him.” Jeanie’s body turned to follow, dragging her messed up leg behind her. Hummingbird? Finish stopping me? Please?

Mitch carried Father Ezra. Hummingbird, Cash, and Jeanie hobbling along beside them with a few others tagging along. Into a small cabin. Father Ezra placed to sit on a bed. Mitch on the floor. Cash off to the side. And Hummingbird, up close with weapon in hand. Jeanie feeling herself constantly shift to get in Hummingbird’s way, protecting Father Ezra with her life.

Hummingbird stepped in close. Placed his hand upon her shattered arm. Put pressure on it. Jeanie grimaced loudly, trying to remain standing on her one good leg.

“Jeanie, dear, look at how your so called friends are hurting you,” Father Ezra exclaimed. “Why are you hurting her? Why are you causing more pain after you already shattered her arms?”

Hummingbird looked at Jeanie and then back at Father Ezra. Please just stop. Get me out of here. “What? How am I hurting her?” Hummingbird smiled wickedly as he pushed down on her arm again.

It felt like hours of watching her body move and speak without her control. Hours of defending a man or sitting with a man who sought to treat her like property because it was how he showed love to his children. Hours of watching as Mitch and Cash tried to remind Father Ezra of how much he was hurting her and had hurt her already. Hours of desperately trying and failing to take enough control of her body that she could beg for help.

Hours before Ruse, of all people, asked why no one had taken her down yet to set her free. The asshole who she hated for not respecting her when it came to her engineering, he was the one who reminded everyone how to free her from Father Ezra’s control. He was the one who reminded Hummingbird to swing his sword over and over, cutting into her body as she tried to protect Father Ezra, before she finally collapsed in a broken heap on the floor.

Someone immediately came over and began to patch her wounds up just enough to keep her from dying. She grimaced and grunted, finally able to answer for herself once again.

And Del wondered why she was so angry when she sat down at her meeting a few minutes later.



Dystopia Rising story? Dystopia Rising story! This one is my Unborn, She. As always, the world is the property of Eschaton Media. The main character is my own original character. The rest are the property of those who created them in the game (and the Rover in this story was used with permission).


The night was still young. A large bonfire in the center of the beach while the three Marsh Walker tribes and their guests celebrated and enjoyed fellowship with each other in the light of the flames. The new crew mates all cheered each other with pride for surviving and succeeding at the trials they had faced through the rest of the holiday. Tomorrow, they would awaken, climb into their boats and return to the water with the families they had joined. The guests would make their way back to the Grove, likely with a few members of the Katama guiding the way.

One particular Unborn of the Sankaty stood in front of the bonfire, staring into the flames. Her green skinned hands tightly gripped the scraps of the skirt she’d worn for years. Unlike the other new crew members, her face wasn’t covered with the joy of the night’s festivities. Her white eyes were focused on the dancing flames, free of their mask. Her cheeks, covered in soot and ash war designs, shifted softly as she chewed on the insides of her cheeks.

“What do you think of the party?” a voice asked.

“Huh?” The Unborn turned. Purple hair and a studded pink jacket adorned the Rover who had addressed her.

“The party? You enjoying it?”

She nodded. “Yes. It’s nice to find others of her kind so ready to welcome her.”

“You’ve got that in the Grove. Warsong. Your mom and dad.”

“They’re not like her. They all have others of their kind. Others who understand. Her mom understands a lot. He even guided her to the Kings who sing for the outcasts that are rejected. But he is still not of her kind. The ancestors made that very clear, to be careful of those who are not like her. She will make them proud again. Her new crew mates of the Sankaty are helping.”

“How so?”

“They are reminding her what it means to be one of the ancestors’ chosen people. They are helping her remember what the Fallow Hope caravan tried to destroy.”

“The Fallow Hope?”

The Unborn nodded and shifted her gaze to the skirt in her hands. “They called her an abomination. Prepared her to join the students of the blind. The Sankaty are helping her to reclaim her pride.”

“Good.” The Rover placed hands on their hips and nodded. “You should be proud. You’re medical professional, like your mom, and you do a lot of good for the town.”

White eyes glanced back to the Rover. “The town cannot decide if they want her kind. One minute they work hard to remind her that she’s not what the Fallow taught her and the next they use zed-be-gone to keep her trapped in the corner of the bar and unable to help or go anywhere.”

The Rover shook her head. “That shouldn’t have happened.”

There was silence between the two punks for a moment as they stood in front of the dancing flames. Around them, people laughed. On the other side of the beach, the four Grove Katama all sassed each other in ways that most of the Grove could not imagine.

“What’s that?” The Rover broke the silence and pointed to the skirt in the Unborn’s hands.

“The past.” The Unborn looked down at the skirt. Green and brown, faded with age. She saw the years of being hidden away when the caravan entered a settlement. She heard the harsh voice of the Ascended one who believed to the point of his skin bleeding the tenants of the faith. She heard the insults hidden in fake concern and the malice with which they gave her a name.

The Unborn tossed the fabric into the flames of the bonfire and watched as the green cloth burned with the dancing golden fire.

“You’ve got to make a choice, if the music drowns you out. And raise your voice every single time they try to shut your mouth.”

What Do I Do Now?


Dystopia Rising Story cause current plot is like OH MY GOODNESS! I know you always hear me say it, but if you haven’t looked into this game yet, please do. It’s so good. The people at Eschaton Media put out amazing work. As always, the world is the property of Eschaton Media. The characters are the creations of myself and a few other players. This is a Jeanie story.


The iron stared down into the dented metal mug by the light of her glow. The water inside it was about as still as the calloused and heavily blistered hands of the iron who held it, very different from the thoughts rushing through her head.

It was over.

No more screams. No more gunfire. No more explosions from being shelled. No more cries and moans of the injured and dying. No more harsh orders and strainist comments from the enemy as they tried to demoralize and hurt the Iron.

Just quiet.

The quiet made every thought a scream.

She wasn’t supposed to survive the war. That’s why Jeanie had volunteered to go with the Life Guard. The chance of death in battle seemed high. Her fear. Her frustration. Her feeling of constant dread and hurt. It would all go away. It would be over. It was supposed to be over now.

But it wasn’t.

A rustle of branches. Jeanie jumped and scanned the forest behind her. Her eyes noticed… nothing. Just the wind.

The iron sighed and took of sip of the water in her cup. She scrunched her face for a moment and slid her tongue across her teeth. This was definitely not the high quality hooch that was served at the Dunwich.

“Fuck, I need a drink.”

The Dunwich. Charles. Fuck.

She had sent him a letter letting him know to not expect her to come home. She wasn’t supposed to survive. How would he handle watching Jeanie walk back into the bar? Would he be angry? No. More hurt. Scared maybe. Was it possible for the Ascensor to feel heart broken? Did he love Jeanie enough to feel that way over her most recent attempt to join the grave?

Jeanie let her right hand slip off the mug and traced the triple X hedon logo tattooed to her wrist. She scratched the dried blood off her wrist til the three purple Xs could be seen clearly. Would Charles even understand?

The iron kept scratching off the blood that had dried on her skin. She winced in pain as she accidently scatched where a blister had opened. After a moment’s pause, she kept going. A black 25 tattooed next to the hedon logo was the next visible piece.

A slave brand.

She didn’t need that anymore. They won the war. Bay Towne declared freedom in the Mass.

The Iron ran her fingers through the matted and blood stained hair before shaking her hand to let the chunks of her that her fingers pulled up fall to the ground.

Charles would love that. And the knowledge that she could go freely as she wished without slavers going after her in the Mass was a nice change from the rest of her life.

But Jeanie spent so long fighting… and failing… to be free…

What would she do now?

The iron scratched at her forehead and grimaced as she felt her fingers tear open a blister.

She needed to get herself back to the Dunwich and get a drink. Hell, she needed a lot more than a drink.