I wrote most of the first chapters on an iPhone, so pardon the massive spelling and grammar errors.


<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=itThTYZ1e4E" target="_blank">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=itThTYZ1e4E</a>

1978

Somewhere in the bayous of Louisiana, in the deep south.

Their way of life.

A short woman was hunched up on a dirty blood and dirt stained bed, the sheets hanging off the bottom of the mattress. Outside , the deep croaks of frogs and the constant chatter from the birds were heard between screaming sessions. "It hurts, George!" Tears streamed down her face.

A short but broad shouldered man was holding open the woman's legs, above his left eye the skin looked almost fake, his left eye was a few centimeters lower than his right, and faint staple marks could be noticed if you spent enough time staring at his battle scar.

The top of a small head was seen crowning through the woman's legs. After a few hours of immense pain and suffering, a baby was sprawled across the bed. The male quickly grabbed a large trench knife off of a makeshift kitchen counter, and cut the umbilical cord. The woman let her head hang back as she panted, the battle scarred man wrapped the screaming newborn in a dirty green blanket. "George junior, Mary-Jane."

Without hesitation the woman nodded "Y-yeah."

About 11 months later, John was born, and after a break from childbirth, Edward, then Mary, then Emily, then Lil Ronald, then the twins, both of whom died before the naming process, after them, Maggie, and the living twins, William and Moses.

Nine children packed into a house the size of small apartment, each of the four oldest had one lil'un bunking with them on a twin mattress, except for Mary, the oldest girl, who had the twins with her. They lived in the middle of a bayou in Louisiana together, miles away from society, hunting gators (Or the three oldest boys did, anyways.) for their next meal or dollar. This was their way of life, watching their mother being beat, not being able to bathe other than dipping your feet in the murky water, and going to town once a month to stock up on food, ammunition, and gasoline.
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1992

Somewhere in the bayous of Louisiana, in the deep south.

Heinz Brand Baked Beans.

A boy with messy dark hair peeked inside the bedroom, which was a small room where the floor was 90% mattresses, the boy was about twelve or thirteen, below him a boy who seemed much younger was also peeking through. The boy had very blonde hair and obnoxious teeth, some of which were missing like any other child. He looked up to his brother, whispering, "Well ain't we going' in? I see where they is." He motioned to one of the mattresses, the bottom end had lumps poking up.

The dark haired boy nodded, creeping in. A few infants were sprawled across the dirty mattresses, all of them mostly naked. The two boys carefully lifted the mattress, noone was on it. Underneath a few cans with blue labels were seen, the label read 'Heinz Baked Beans'

Just as their hands wrapped around cans, a teenage boy was in the rotted doorway, he looked exactly like his father, minus the battle scars. He threw himself over the mattressses and landed on the back of the dark haired boy. He swung his fists around his back, hitting him in the face multiple times until he fell unconscious on the small stockpile of beans.
His voice was scratchy and pubescent when he spoke, "Trying' to steal from my stash Lil fuckers."

The blonde, young child stared with fear. "S-sorry Beans.."

"Theres some hamburger meat in the 'fridgerator. Eat it up and not my beans you Lil shit."

Beans was called Beans since he had a single tooth. Beans are good for... Well forever, which is precisely why they were good in the first place, less trips into town. Beans would protect his stash with brute force, and whenever they'd go to town, Beans would use his allowance money to buy all of the beans off the shelf. Being the oldest, he'd scare his siblings into not buying any of his beans. Instead the second and third oldest had a habit of eating hamburger beef, mostly raw. This would prove to help their immune system with later habits.
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<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kQucy_VwcEE" target="_blank">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kQucy_VwcEE</a>

1965

Fort Ashe, Georgia, in the American south.

Corporal George Wilson.

A young man, no older than the age of 19 finished putting his gun together first. The drill sergeant picked up and examined the M1 Garand rifle, pulling back the charging handle and looking at the inner workings. The old drill sergeant looked down at the young man, speaking in a hoarse voice, "What's your name boy?"

The young man looked up, speaking confidently, "George Wilson, I am."

The drill sergent dropped the rifle with a thud back on the table, "George Wilson SIR, boy, y'understand?"

The young man looked up, shrugging, "Yes sir."

"Where you from you cocky Lil tard?" He asked, staring down at the short but healthy looking young man.

"L'siana sir." George replied, nodding afterwards.

The drill sergeant thought briefly, "Hunt gators? Wrestle 'em?"

George nodded, "S'pose I do."

"Well smarten the fuck up boy, in a few months you'll be face to face with a short yellow buck-toothed Vietcong who's tryin' to stab you while you got nothin' but a rock. Compared to Vietcong, these gators are pussies.

A few months later, George Wilson was sent to Vietnam, a standard rifleman, he was armed with an M16 assault rifle, two grenades, and a trench knife which he brought himself.

After two days of R&R, it was time to move out. He was sent into the jungle on a mission to try to confirm a vietnamese presence in a small farming village along with about 20 other men. While following the path through the jungle, a soldier at the front pointed up into a tree, which didn't help because there were thousands around like it, "Whats that, in the tr-"
Before his sentence was finished, rapid shots were heard from ahead, three of the men at the front fell after the first round of gunfire, George had enough time to find cover behind a tree at the side of the path.

A soldier stupidly hopped from cover to a dying soldier who was choking for air, George watched as a round went directly into the side of his head, his feet lifted off the ground and he tripped onto his side, dead. George panted, squeezing into a ball behind the tree, his rifle in the middle of the ball sticking out. A sniper in the group crawled into some bushes, luckily unseen, he took aim and waited at least a minute before firing. The sniper stood, "All clear, just a single gunman." Lyckiky he was right. The bodies were left for the next patrol who came along the path.

After a few years of small skirmishes, George was now a Corporal. In a gunfight for a village he got his first and last wound of the war. After hours of exchanging fire with a group of Vietnamese soldiers, George and a fellow soldier, Pfc. Daly, snuck to a side perspective of the building which most of the Vietcong were holed up. A few enemies were in the side window, and they began opening fire on the two, who dove behind a wagon. The bullets tore through the old wood, while Daly recited a prayer, George peeked out the side, looking though the sights of his rifle to see two gunmen. Fire from them sent him back behind cover, as he turned to Daly, a round tore through the wood and into Dalys neck, he choked for air, and blood sprayed on George.

George heard steps running towards the wagon, so he tossed his rifle a few feet away and hunched over next to Daly as if he got shot as well, blood dripped onto his uniform gently. A Vietnamese soldier quickly approached the two, staring at them. It was a young soldier probably 16 and eager for a kill. He raised a dirty .22 revolver and fired into both men's heads. George felt a sort of impact, but went blank on the rest. As the Vietnamese were cleared from the village, a medic declared George living and he got sent back to the United Staes. After Years of recovery he went back to Louisiana, but with newfound mental problems.
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<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SDTZ7iX4vTQ" target="_blank">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SDTZ7iX4vTQ</a>

1995

Somewhere in the bayous of Louisiana, in the American deep south.

In case of abuse, pull the trigger.

Beans was on the porch of the small rotten shack aiming a double barreled shotgun into the sky. Every few minutes he'd squeeze the trigger, and perhaps a crow would plunge into the swamp to be swallowed by a gator hours later. Beef sat on the edge, his toes splashing the water lightly as he watched the birds rain blood into the water. Meaty jogged barefoot onto the porch, trying to grab the shotgun by the barrel. "The fuck you doin' Meat cake?" He jabbed the butt of the gun into his chest, sending him onto his back.

"I wanna try you big cock." For a young child, Meaty had an expanded vocabulary that he never hesitated to use.

"Well too bad, the gun would knock you on yer ass."

Meaty stormed back inside, and returned a few moments later, a Smith & Wesson .357 Magnum revolver hanging from his hand. Before Beans could turn to face the child, Meaty raised the pistol and fired a round blankly into the bayou, Beans turned immediately, just in time to see Meaty stumble back a step, but not fall. "Jesus." Said Meaty, dropping the gun into Beef's lap, he was staring up at them both.

"Meat... Go put this back in pops drawer, and don't be so damn stupid." Beef said after letting the shells from the gun fall into his hand. He put the bullets in Meaty's jeans pocket, and put the unloaded revolver in Meaty's hands.

Just as Meaty was about to enter, their mother tripped through the screen door, her face bouncing off the wood. Shouts were heard inside, "You fuckin' whore!"

Their father marched outside, kicking their mother in the stomach as she struggled to get up. Beans hopped up and tried to push his father back with the help of Beef. "She slept with Gerald! Yer mother is a fuckin' skank!"

The thing is, Mary-Jane never spoke to Gerald. Gerald was the shop keeper in town, who happened to be a 70 year old man who never mutters a word besides the price of your items. George struggled outbid the boys grip and ran inside, after helping their mother up the boys followed, Beans had the shotgun in hand. As they entered the door George burst from the bathroom door (Which was a small room that had an old toilet with a pipe leading into the water.) wielding a Vietnam era M16. He aimed their mother and fired immediately, emptying the entire magazine on Mary-Jane, Beef swung a wrench at his father, making contact with his neck.

George fell unconscious, rifle in hand. The younger children cried while Beans and Beef herded the kids into the bed room. As they planned to send a distress call with a radio, their father, using his Vietnam tactics, silently rose to his feet and put a new magazine into his rifle. He make a battle cry and burst into the doorway, the only ones with sense enough to duck were the oldest four, Beans, Beef, Meaty and Mary. After the firing ceased, The two eldest boys charged their father, beating him without mercy. Thinking he was dead after minutes of beating, they peeked into the room, Meaty was saying prayers over the dead children. "Wh-wheres Mary?"

While the boys were reciting prayers and beating their father, Mary ran outside and into the bayou, of course she was found nearly immediately by hunters and brought into town, but when the boys went into the bayou, nowhere to go without the map, it took two years to be found. 
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1997

Somewhere in the bayous of Louisiana, in the American deep south.

Turtles, gators, and aging war veterans.

The snap of twigs was heard as the three boys were lying together for a bit of warmth through the night. The snap of twigs meant one of two things, either a turtle or gator was on dry ground, or George was trying to sneak up on the three. Beans slowly stood, now more mature looking, but naked and encrusted with mud like a savage.
"Come out..."

Beans picked up the now rusty and mud covered shotgun, popping two dirty shells in. He slowly aimed around, it was dawn, and it wasn't dark out, but not light enough the see a naked mud covered insane war veteran hunting them. Beef and Meaty both stood silently, standing behind Beans. Beef was similar looking to Beans, mature and out of the awkward stages of puberty, Meaty was still very young looking, he was a small bit taller but the changes brought upon by teenage years haven't yet reached him.

Without their knowing, their father circled behind them, and burst from the bushes. He screamed and landed on Beans back after a leap of faith. Two years of this. Their father would appear every few days while they rested, somehow tracking them down. Usually they'd fight him off, but this particular time it wouldn't play out as planned.

George beat Beans down, and dragged him in the water, shoving him into the depths. Beans threw his head up, gasping for air, he knew he was underwater for at least twenty seconds at a time, and trying to fight his father off. Finally Beans was into the above world again, Beef was now being beaten, Beans staggered up, but fell back over watching his brother being beat helplessly.

Meaty ran behind his father wielding a killstick (A rod that when the end is pressed on, fires a shotgun shell.) Meaty hopped on his fathers back and briskly jabbed the killstick against the back of George's head. Both Meaty and George fell next to each other, except George was dead. Blood trickled put of a goofball sized hole in the back of his head. Meaty covered his face, sobbing.

After saying a prayer over the body, they began to tear him apart, eating appropriate parts. Beans was chewing an arm, as was Meaty, while Beef chewed on a leg. This wasn't the first time eating human flesh, they ate at least five corpses before eating their father.

They'd come across small bayou shacks, and brutally kill the inhabitants, feasting on the corpses and taking the ammunition they may have had. After killing their father they came across an elderly couple living in the bayou, who at first accused them of being the big mobsters. After explaining themselves (Lying of course.) they were allowed an old airboat (Which required fixing) and the tools to fix it.

They were also given a map, which led them to find out they were but 3 miles away from the closest town. They were dressed in old clothes and sent to the town by boat, they lived in this town until the seven hour war.
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<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4CG1rbUdHKg" target="_blank">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4CG1rbUdHKg</a>

I might add I know nothing of the 7 Hour War, this is just my take on it. If I'm wrong, feel free to tell me, but I won't change it.

2015

Mayberry (A purely fictional town), Louisiana, in the American deep south.

War happens.

Beans  and Meaty were tending to an airboat with a dysfunctional engine. Beef was in the front office, thumb wrestling himself, next to him an ad read 'Mayberry Airboat Services.' Outside, the gentle whirring of of a helicopter was heard, but more of a synthetic whirring.

In the distance out of nowhere a loud gunshot like sound was heard. A few moments later, the antique shop across the street was struck through the roof by a sort of canister. The windows of the shop shattered, and the few amount of cars in the street sped away in different directions. The elderly woman running the shop exited with a brown lump with tiny legs was stuck to her head, she was struggling to tear it off. Behind her another one of the things followed. As Beans entered the front office, Beef tossed him a Colt .45, while Beef himself held a sawn off Double Barreled shotgun.

Meaty entered the room behind Beans, reaching for his own gun into the gun safe, which was a Glock 17. They each grabbed extra ammunition as more canisters hit around the small town. As they exited, Berf took the lead, firing one of his shells at the brown crab thing, it was shredded by the buckshot. The shop owner was now staggering around swinging as pedestrians tring to get to their cars or inside buildings.

Beans jogged to their somewhat rusty 1982 Ford F150, Beans taking the drivers seat, and Beef in the passenger seat. Meaty climbed into the back and braced himself one of the corners. The engine of the truck roared as Beans turned the keys, and they sped away, down the street away from the sound of shelling. Dead bodies were occasionally sprawled across the sidewalk.

For the first time they saw Combine. Two soldiers were jogging across the street, armed with rifles that seemed futuristic and awkward looking. Beans sped up at the sight of the soldiers, a large thud was heard and the car jerked forward, but kept going, the soldier slid off the hood and under the car, causing them to bounce. Shots were heard from behind, Meaty was firing at the surviving soldier, the soldier returned fire, the dark matter shells singing the back part of the pickup.

They pulled into a barricade, a Confederate flag was waving above the barricade. Men with rifles, pistols and shotguns were fighting off the brown lumps and the soldiers. They pulled up, grabbing their guns. As they approached the barricade, men were dropped left and right, they sprinted inside the fire department behind them. When the big fire department doors were being banged on, the three threw their guns into a truck as a final attempt to live. As the soldiers entered, they were not fired upon, instead beat down to the extent of unconsciousness. They awoke in the bayou, Meaty wasn't there, just Beef and Beans, and a few others. Beans put together that perhaps they'd been saved by this group, as many of them were armed.

Beef spoke first, "Wha's going on.."

A large black man spoke first, he sounded foreign, "They came to Earth and put everyone in these cities.. We've been here about two days. We thought you'd never wake.. We are about to go."

Beans got up, grabbing Beef's arm and staggering through the mud. "Beans, let's go with them!"

He didn't listen, and staggered on. Eventually they hit land, it was a lone dirt road. Beef was now following Beans without question. After walking about an hour down the road, a sign was sprawled on the ground, covered in bullet holes, 'Welcome to Mayberry, Louisiana'

Ahead were a large group of soldiers surrounding about thirty townspeople, Beans trudged forward. Beef bit his lip, watching his brother from behind a wrecked car. Beans walked between two soldiers and sat in the middle of the group, Beef came a few minutes later, after realizing they weren't being killed. Each person was given a swift penchant to the head, rendering them unconscious, most of the people cried.



Their Truck.


If you want to know the story behind Beans, Beef and Meaty, then stay tuned because I'll add often.

All the riveting questions you've ever wanted to ask Outlands favorite cannibal rapist! This is solely for shits and giggles, and I hope all of you are mature enough not to metagame. This isn't only for beans, this is for me in general and my characters (Beans, Ach Ild Eaz, and for the city oldfags, 527 /Michael Neill.)

Ask anything ye want

I'll start by saying the idea of Beans arose some time before outlands was opened. I had the idea in my head of a crazy stereotypical gun loving hillbilly, and threw in cannibalistic habits, and an unnatural, nearly animalistic view of the world. I made Beans and thought of his history as I went along. A week later I thought of having brothers, and then Beef was born, the brains. Then about 2-3 months ago, the youngest surviving Wilson was brought to light- Meaty. Together they've killed about 40-50 people in their hl2 lifetime (All ICly, about 10-20 were PKs)
With Beans being the firepower, Beef being the brain, and Meaty being the brutal enforcer, they are a myth of the outlands :3

Player Section

Steam Name: bowser93
Age: 15
How long have you been Roleplaying? (can be any game): Maybe 4-5 years.
How long have you been playing Serious GMod RP?: About 3 years.

Character Section

Authorization(s):
A child character.

Name: Ghedi Khalif
Age: 16
Gender: Male
Affiliation: None

Write a detailed in-canon back-story how your character obtained these authorizations.
Somalia’s Coast, 2001
   A man burst into the small living space, the name ‘Khalif’ sprawled along the door in chalk. The man who barged in was follow by two men, both armed with outdated soviet assault rifles. The Khalif family rose to their feet, except a newborn baby who was propped on his behind by a couch cushion. Those who COULD stand consisted of an old man with a light gray stubble, a middle aged man and woman, both tired and worn out, and a teenage boy, about age seventeen, who had but a stump on his left shoulder that was at one time called an arm.
   The ring leader of this small group approached the near silent newborn, who just scanned the room with his dark and curious brown eyes, his right index finger lodged in his mouth. The ringleader had sunken in cheeks, short curly jet black hair, a wide nose, and eyes that looked damn near to popping out of their sockets. As he reached down for the baby, whimpering was heard from who seemed to be the mother, she was flailing around, sobbing, trying to get at her child, while the able-bodied males held her back, both with a grim look on their face.
   At last, words were spoken in the otherwise silent room. “This child, he is ours now. But don’t worry… we will take good care of him.”
   These words came out of the ringleader’s mouth, but were quickly followed up by the angry voice of the mother, “You will teach him to kill and to steal, what if God wants him to become an engineer or a lawyer in the East!”
   A grim smile slowly crept along the ringleaders face, “Sweetie… this is Somalia… this is the only profession that will keep him alive longer than you hideous people.” And with that, the trio marched out of the room, the newborn now crying, reaching out for his mother.
  Somalia’s Coast, 2010
   “I can’t wait to go! How much longer is it again, Mahad?” Ghedi said excitedly, with a toothy grin.
   “When you are ten. You will start going with us when you are ten.” Mahad replied, while staring down into his paper plate of instant mac & cheese.
   “Will I get a gun, too? Will you let me us a rifle? Or maybe a rocket tube thing?” Ghedi asked, still smiling brightly.
   Mahad looked up from his plate, jamming some macaroni in his mouth, he smirked, “Ghedi, an RPG would be far too heavy and big for you, and an SKS or Ak-47 is quite heavy as well. Maybe a pistol.”
   Ghedi frowned, “When will I be able to use rifles and RPGs?”
Mahad smiled, showing his missing teeth and damaged gums, “When you get big and strong, Ghedi. And that takes hard work and good food. So you should start eating those veggies.”
   Ghedi’s plate was littered with recently heated frozen peas, green beans, and corn, with a dry slice of bread on the side of the plate. “Oh… well this stuff is nasty, but if I eat it do you promise me that I get to use a big gun?”
   “Of course.” Was the reply Mahad said with his mouth full.
   The room was dimly lit by a few light bulbs hanging down by their frayed wires. About two hundred men milled around with paper plates of frozen vegetables and instant food and semi-pure water, and many of them had bandoliers of ammo across their chest, and assault rifles slung over their shoulders on their back. The ages of these soldiers ranged from 12 up until men beyond their 50s. The structure these men based out of was a wooden warehouse, on the docks fish market. Natural light seeped through cracks and bullet holes on the structure.
   As the men drank and ate their lunches, multiple loud deafening cracks were heard outside the warehouse, and then screaming erupted from the marketplace, the small army that hid based out of this warehouse had a drill for such things, and the garage doors on the west end of the warehouse were pulled open by men on rope pulleys, and those armed flipped the tables in the direction of the attack, and hid behind the tables.
   The cracks kept happening, from all directions, it seemed, Ghedi covered his ears, and frantically looked around the warehouse, where his allies were now firing towards the garage doors. Bullet casings occasionally fell on Ghedi as he crawled through the warehouse to where he thought Mahad ran. Ghedi looked around, scared, and on a rare occasion, he saw one of the fighters on his own end snap backwards and fall limp. Ghedi was then grabbing by the back of his neck as he crawled, and turned to face who grabbed him, it was Mahad, who was shouting over the cracks and booms and clinks that shook the warehouse. “Take ---- an---- return ----! Take these an----- and sta----- cover!”
   Ghedi then looked down as Mahad nudged his arms forward. Mahad set an old worn down AK-47 and two extra magazines in Ghedi’s arms, Ghedi nearly fell over, not realizing the actual weight of the rifle until now. He hunched behind a table, propping the rifle up on the top, pulling the trigger – nothing happened. Ghedi pulled the rifle back down, never having been so scared in his life. He looked for what could be wrong, and eventually thought of using both hands to pull the charging handle, it had a lot of resistance, but near the end, Ghedi tripped over on his behind as the resistance on the handle stopped, he let go instinctively, and the handle snapped forward.
   Ghedi propped the gun up once more, and pulled the trigger down, his shot was more pronounced than the other because he was closer to it, the recoil was enough to knock Ghedi over as it smacked into his shoulder, he got back up, and fired again, this time leaning into the rifle more, pulling the trigger, the gun jerked back and up, and clunked back onto the table, he repeated this process until the magazine was empty, and the gun battle ended as he hunkered behind the table, and yanked the magazine of the rifle a few times.
   Before he could rip the magazine out, Mahad walked over casually, the garage doors slowly closed. Mahad quickly ripped the gun from Ghedi’s hands, and replaced the old magazine with a full one, yanking the loading handle back, and letting it snap forward, he looked down to Ghedi who had a look on his face like he’d just seen a ghost.
   “Ghedi…” Mahad said slowly, “Ghedi you have to get used to these battles… there will be many more in your lifetime…” Mahad dropped the gun back in Ghedi’s arms, and Ghedi, once again, nearly tripped over.
A boat off the coast of Somalia, 2012
With weekly practice, Ghedi soon got used to the weight, recoil, and reloading style of his AK-47, with the help of Mahad of course. As promised, Ghedi ate his vegetables every day, and as promised on the opposing end, Ghedi began doing runs with Mahad and his crew. This was his first run, he had his AK-47 and three extra magazines- all full. The small motorboat pulled alongside the large posh looking pearly white vessel by whipping a whaling hook along the side, up, so they could successfully climb.
   Ghedi went up after Mahad, and Ghedi was followed by three men, all of them darker than most Somalians, because of the blazing sun. One of the men had an RPG, the one with it was much taller than the others, about 6’4, and with a burly wide set build, perfect for lugging around an RPG. The other two men appeared to be nearly like twins, both with salt encrusted short black hair, and light rusty brown eyes. One was armed with an old SKS rifle, the other an AK-47, and both of them had the same block like head, with a defined jaw line.
   As they got up, a few of the sailors, looked fearfully over to the men climbing the hook, cried out in what seemed to be German, and ran towards the captains deck. Ghedi, Mahad, and the twins hid behind a supply crate, while the rocket man knelt down, raised his RPG, and lightly flicked a switch. He glanced over to Mahad and said, “Ready?”
   Mahad nodded a single time, and then suddenly, nearly out of nowhere, a loud pop like explosion shook the ship, as Ghedi looked quickly to the rocket man, there was no longer a rocket protruding from the barrel, and a light smoke trickled out of it. The rocket man quickly slung the RPG, and switched it out for an AK-74 Sub machinegun, which lacked a stock, for a lighter carry.
   Mahad yanked Ghedi along, from behind the container, sailors screamed out, and milled around the ship, and fire and smoke poured from the windows of the captains deck, and there was a large puncture in the front end of the captains deck, like a pencil stabbing through paper. The four of them regrouped around the rocket man, and Mahad took the lead, sprinting along the deck, weaving around barrels and German sailors dressed in white uniforms.
    Mahad skidded to a stop when he hid a door to the stairwell, leading up to the captains deck, he yanked Ghendi along, as the other three ran down the stairs to the bottom level of the ship. The two coughed heavily walking up the stairs, and put on water soaked bandanas over their mouth, they quickly hit the ground, and crawled through the captains deck as the fire died.
   Mahad sprung up at the sight of the living captain, and quickly squeezed on the trigger, two rounds cracked off, hitting the captains jaw and cheek. Mahad bent over again, choking on smoke, and patted the captain down for keys. Ghedi stared at the door, not sure what to do, when a German sailor poked in with a flare gun. Ghedi, not knowing any better, swiftly popped up, jumped onto his ass, held his rifle at his hip, and pressed the trigger a single time. Blood sprayed out from the upper right quadrant of his chest, and he tripped backwards, dropping the flare gun. Ghedi stared in disbelief, Mahad quickly grabbed him up, and led him out of the captains deck, after grabbing the flare gun, the German sailor still gagging for air as blood tricked through his otherwise perfectly white uniform.
   The other three came up the stairs as Ghedi and Mahad came down, a few quick words were exchanged, and they began off across the ship. As they ran, they came along multiple German sailors trying to lower the life boat, many of them sobbing with fear. Mahad and the other three quickly took aim, and opened fire, taking down about nine men, a few of which tripped over the banister after being pelted with rounds. They continued on, and came across another door, which had a large padlock. Mahad took the skeleton keys he’d gained from the dead captain, and unlocked the door.
   They quickly marched down the stairs, The twins leader, followed by the rocket man, and then Ghedi and Mahad. As they reached the bottom of the stairs, the lead twin was hit with some sort of projectile, and his whole body flew backwards, and was stuck into the wall by the projectile. The remaining four charged into the room, after cutting the rope attached to the projectile with a sharp machete. They hid behind a few thick boxes, Ghedi watched in shock as the twin tried pulling what appeared to be harpoon out of himself. He was pinned to the wall, his feet dangling a few inches above the ground, the harpoon was pierced through his lower abdomen, and was stuck into the wall. After a few more moments of struggle, the twin’s eyes slowly rose, showing only white, and he fell limp and lifeless, still pinned to the wall by the harpoon.
   Ghedi didn’t notice this, as he was too busy watching the twin, but the three adults had popped up above the crates, and began opening fire, with a smack to the head, Ghedi quickly popped up with them, firing semi-automatically all over the room. He didn’t want to kill anyone, as he’d already seen dozens die today, so he just stared at his gun, as it snapped back each time he fired, and bumped his shoulder.
   After about a two minute gun battle with sailors armed with flare guns and harpoon guns, some even armed with pistols, all the remaining sailors who wished to fight were dead. The team of the four living pirates scoured the area, and eventually came along a vault, hidden behind a shipping crate with Japanese characters sprawled across it. The rocket man promptly un-slung his RPG-7, and grabbed his spare rocket out of his backpack, and jammed it into the end of the launcher. He knelt onto his knee, flipped the safety lock, and pulled the trigger, a loud ‘Phoosh!’ was heard, and immediately after, a pop like explosion.
As the smoke cleared, a puncture in the vault door about the size of small tire was seen in the vault door. All three men looked to Ghedi, “Ghedi, come here.” Mahad said quickly.
   Ghedi did as he was told, and went to his leader. “We are going to pick you up, and you have to pull yourself into the vault, and grab as much money as you can, and pack it into the bags we are going to give through to you, okay?”
   Well Ghedi did just that, and the four of them walked off the ship and onto their little white wooden motorboat with dozens of thousands of Euros, and Ghedi walked away with a Mahad’s machete as a present for his first pirating run, and a harpoon gun, complete with all the harpoons needed to survive nearly any water based situation.
Somalia’s Coast, during the 7 hour war
   Ghedi, Mahad and Sahir boarded their upgraded boat, a small little white metal boat, with a newer engine than their last, small wooden boat. Ghedi,  now a bit older looking, had his AK-47 in his lap, fully loaded, his machete in its sheath clipped to his belt yokes, and his harpoon gun slung over his shoulder along with a homemade quiver filled with harpoons – many without ropes, but some with.
   Sahir said slowly and deeply, “Look to our west, there’s a big red ship with shipping crates. It looks Chinese.”
   “The Chinese boats are good for nothing except fish, Sahir, and we have plenty of fish.” Mahad said in return.
   “Okay. Then look south east, I see a boat with English letters on it. It’s either from America or western Europe.” Sahir said, pointing across the deep blue, the Somalian coast about a mile behind them.
   “I like western boats. They are usually packed with money, let’s go.” Mahad said, turning the engine’s handle to face southeast.
Just then, behind them, something detonated. Screaming and an explosion’s blast was heard in the distance, and then more explosions. As they turned, they saw foreign looking aircrafts overhead the coast, probably causing the explosions. The explosions did not cease, and nor did the screaming, apartment blocks, warehouses, and docked ships were seen being hit, and moments later, exploding.
   Mahad quickly steered away from the southeast, heading directly south, towards the southern tip of Africa. “What the fuck was that and what are we doing!” cried Ghedi.
   “We are going to go as far as we can, and pull onto the coast when we get low on gasoline, then we’re getting a bus from wherever we are to Europe. Europe is probably safe.” Mahad said, with a hard look on his face.
   After seemingly endless hours of driving, the engine puttered out, and Mahad distributed paddles to Ghedi and Sahir. “Paddle towards the land.” He motioned over to his right, in the distance, land could be seen. The men took multiple hour shifts paddling, while the one without a paddle usually slept. After about a day and a half, they finally arrived, still in Somalia, according to road signs.
   The land they arrived on was barren, except for a long seemingly endless dirt road that led east. The trio began walking, only with their rifles, small amounts of frozen food, and whatever else they wanted to bring with them. They walked for about a day when they finally reached inhabitants. It was a small village, with thatched houses, and about four hundred people milling about. Children ran around playing tag, and some adults fired rifles at a road sign about a hundred meters down the road near the exit of the town.
   In the center of the village, there was a bus schedule, with all the outgoing and incoming schedules crossed out, and at the bottom of the sign written in marker, it read ‘Buses to the east each day at 3 P.M.’ A man in a dirty white button down shirt approached the three, “Would you like to book  a bus to the east?” He said with a forced smile.
   “The east meaning east of Africa or east meaning Europe.” Sahir inquired right away.
   “Well you can get a bus to northern Ethiopia where you will then go to Egypt by another bus. After that we offer buses going to Turkey, and that’s where our lines end.” The salesman replied, still forcing a smile.
   “That sounds like it will take a LOOOOONG time.” Replied Mahad, and it did take a long time.
   Mahad, Ghedi, and Sahir took a VERY long time to get to Turkey, considering one of their buses going to Egypt got attacked by mercenaries. That resulted in Sahir being shot dead, and Mahad dying of thirst as they walked the desert. Ghedi drank very little out of his water canteen at a time, and refilled it with his own urine when he had the chance. When he arrived to Turkey he boarded a boat to Romania, and from there, he walked the mountains, now getting fresh water from rivers and ponds, and sometimes got lucky hitting an edible creature with his harpoon gun. He eventually came to Ineu pass, where he thought he would stay…



What will these authorizations give your character in regards to perks or defects?
Perks
A youthful character.
A harpoon gun with re-usable harpoons. (Debatable)
A machete. (Debatable)
Some knowledge of the English language.
Some knowledge of certain rifles.

Defects
Smaller, easier to manipulate both physically and mentally.
If he has a harpoon gun, it would weight him down a bit.
He could easily become a target because of his 'everything is mine' mindset.

What do you plan to do with these perks/defects?
I plan to create some interesting RP for myself and others in the outlands.

Will anyone else need these auths? (If so, list OOC and IC name(s))
N/A

Which server does this apply for?
Outlands

Extra Notes (optional):

Player Section

Steam Name: bowser93
Age: 15
How long have you been Roleplaying? (can be any game): 3-4 Years
How long have you been playing Serious GMod RP?: 2.5 Years

Character Section

Authorization(s):
The Ep2 Jalopy (I know it says I cannot apply for vehicles, but I've been working on the car since around when the map changed, so I am taking a shot anyways since I've been working since before the rules changed.)

Name: 'Beans'
Age: 37-38
Gender: Male
Affiliation: None

Write a detailed in-canon back-story how your character obtained these authorizations.
Here is the RP I did, if it is needed, I can write an actual IC backstory.

After years of living in a bayou (From birth to late teen years) Beans and Beef can kind of stay under water for a little bit longer than most- just a note.
** George 'Beans' Wilson takes a deep breath, and dives in with a shovel, digging the gravel out from around the wheels, freeing them
** George 'Beans' Wilson goes back underwater after some heavy breathing, and pulls at the frame, moving it inch by inch
** After hours of tugging, pushing, and coming up to breathe, it is ashore
** Janey Johnson tosses him old belt
** George 'Beans' Wilson wraps the belt into place
** Janey Johnson takes out battery make a "Ugh!" sound placing it on ground
-Janey had an old car battery with her, so we used that.
** George 'Beans' Wilson puts it in place where the old battery used to be.
** George 'Beans' Wilson grabs the wire leading from the battery, and plugs it into the engine in the appropriate slot
** George 'Beans' Wilson plants one foot on the bumper of the truck, and one on the door of it, and pulls with all his strength
** Because it is weak and old, the rim gives easy, and the tire pops off
** George 'Beans' Wilson pushes the tire onto the wheel, kicking it a few times to make sure it's in place
-At this point is where my arm is gone.
** Needles Kane grabs at the tools and goes to work on the engine, sliding under the hood and checking on all the parts, at how they are fitted
** Needles Kane looks over the Car's missing hood into the engine, inspecting it for a moment and assessing the damage
** Needles Kane grabs the tools and starts working first by fixing the major issues, the parts of the engine that won't move or that are-
** entirely disconected from the rest, making sure everything is now connected and in the main engine itself
** Needles Kane cleans it up a little before moving onto the other major parts of the engine, fixing up details and making sure-
** Needles Kane - Everything is in working condition and not about to make the engine go boom

** Needles Kane goes in the engine once more, looking at it detainedly and using the tools to check "T-Thank god, Sparkplug's there.”
** Needles Kane tests it and gets a mild shock, “Sh-Shit! It’s in working condition too!”
** Needles Kane opens up parts of the engine and takes out some, cleaning it up and looking at them detainedly
** it seems that while the parts are mostly intact, the canals for the pistons and what not are filled with musk and algae
** Needles Kane looks down at the parts he's left in the floor, they seem dirty, muddy, but Still functional
** Needles Kane starts to clean up the engine's tubes where the pistons would normally go, making sure it's not obstructed
** Needles Kane uses the bloodied shirt to clean up the harder to reach internal parts, clearing where the piston rings would go up
** Needles Kane this is to make sure the pistons actually move properly and transfer the kinetic energy they should back to the wheels
** 'Beans' pries off some of the cover surrounded the steering wheel
** 'Beans' follows the pipe-like contraption leading from the steering wheel, to the origin of the steering
** [|Male|6'1|Dirty|Blood...] puts the car in reverse, smoke shoots back aswell as the car. It smashes into the engine.
** The front took most of the hit, though the engine is loose, and the front frame bent
** 'Beans' follows the railing to a loose end, bashing on it with the flat end of the axe until it falls off loose
** 'Beans' grabs a wrench, fitting the bolts holding the grill and bumper up to the frame of the car
** 'Beans' unscrews the bolts, letting them fall off, he then does the top bolts, and the bent part of the front frame falls off
** 'Beans' fits the pipe-like railing through a hole, and into the cuff, screwing the cuff back on
** 'Beans' fits the back end into the hole on the rollbar, tightening it into place
** 'Beans' goes back to inspect the steering as he was last night

** 'Beans' sits in the drivers seat, and turns the wheel, the wheels turn a bit, then stop halfway
** 'Beans' pulls at the old steering wheel, loosening it, after a few minutes of constantly pulling and loosening, the steering wheel
** pops out of where it was held into the long connector holding it into the origin of the steering near the engine
** 'Beans' puts the steering wheel back in place, and twists a screwdriver through the somewhat rusty metal
** He turns it through all the layers, so a hole goes clean through the end of the wheel and through the connector
** Twisting through the rusty metal takes about an hour, but after twisting and jabbing, a crude hole is made
** 'Beans' puts a small metal rod with twisting grooves at the end through the hole
** 'Beans' twists bolts onto the grooves
** 'Beans' hops back into the driver seat, turning the steering wheel, this time the tires turn completely
** 'Beans' dips his old C18 shirt in the water
** 'Beans' wipes the shirt along to top of the frame, flaking off some of the rust
** 'Beans' shakes out the slightly wet shirt, the flaked off rust flies off
** 'Beans' wipes down some of the rusty parts of the engine, flaking off some of the rust
** 'Beans' sits in the drivers seat, and bashes in the keyhole with a stone
** 'Beans' attempts to hotwire the car




What will these authorizations give your character in regards to perks or defects?
Perks
-A faster and easier mode of transportation
-A faster and easier way to transport items and people

Defects
-The car emits foul black fumes
-Parts are old and weak, and will require near daily maintainence
-It requires gasoline and oil
-Tires may flatten
-The car is very unprotected, leaving it vulnerable to attack while on and off the road

What do you plan to do with these perks/defects?
I plan to get around faster and easier, and help others get around faster and easier. Beans knows a lot of people who may require pick ups and such. I also plan on moving my small faction around easier.

Will anyone else need these auths? (If so, list OOC and IC name(s))
Noone.

Which server does this apply for?
Outlands

Extra Notes (optional):
I've been working on the car since the map change, and I know my word may not be taken, but I have a lot of witnesses. Also, I will add a backstory/more RP if it is required IE- Where I got my tools and all that.

This is what the Crazies logo is, the gator with the group name. The tattoos are just the group name.
All credit goes to Tyler for the tattoo.

OOC Section
-The Crazies is a group of mercenaries who'll do basically whatever you want then to, just to earn a buck.
-If you have any questions you can PM me, in game or on these forums, but the group is pretty straight forward.
-Don't expect to get in just because you created an insane character with an odd name, if you want to get in, you have to do it ALL in character, theres no getting around it just because your character is cannibalistic.

IC Section (//The horrible spelling you're about to see is all IC.)

The Crazies will do most things for pay
-kill sertain peeple if we dont like them
-steal somthing if its from somone we dont like
-deliver messajes or items
-and most other things

we take most kinds of pay, tokens, ammo, or other items
we are always looking for guns
if you want to join, you becom a prospektive member furst
if you want to become a prospekt, or if you have a job, or if you has guns to sell, reach us at freequincy 133.5

Stronghold- Disbanded
Civiwatch- Disbanded
Outcasts- Disbanded
Saints- Disbanded
Alliance- Disbanded
Clinic- Neutral
The Sirens Unknown

As of now, Beef, Luco and Gerald (Being the most active members of the Crazies) have equal control over the Crazies. If Beans ever returns, power will be returned back to him.

Player Section

Steam Name: bowser93
Age: 15
How long have you been Roleplaying? (can be any game): 3-4 Years
How long have you been playing Serious GMod RP?: 2 Years maybe

Character Section

Authorization(s):
Knowing how to repair engines and vehicles.

Name: George 'Beans' Wilson
Age: 35-45
Gender: Male
Affiliation: None

Write a detailed in-canon back-story how your character obtained these authorizations.
     George was around water from the moment he was born. He was born and raised until he turned 17 on a bayou. Living on a bayou means a few things. First, that you know how to kill a gator, and second, that you drive boats and airboats EVERYWHERE. George couldn't get to town without driving his dads boat, so he drove boats just about every day.
     Because he also drove the airboats for quite a while, he also helped his dad maintain them. Over a period of about 10 years of watching his dad work on engines, he picked up quite a few tricks. That was until his father went beserk and killed his entire family, excluding Beans, Beef, and Meaty- but thats another story. When the portal storms hit, and a year later, Beans and Beef escaped from C45, they brough their talents with them. Beans is now trying to fix up an old muslce car.

What will these authorizations give your character in regards to perks or defects?
Perks
-Knowledge of fixing and maintaining engines and vehicles.

Defects
-If I ever get the car working, I will also have to maintain it day by day, and keep it well oiled and fueled.

What do you plan to do with these perks/defects?
I plan to build a vehicle for me, my IC brother Beef, and all my friends, so I can deliver them to places faster, and carry things easier.

Will anyone else need these auths? (If so, list OOC and IC name(s))
eGF_Adam- My brother John 'Beef' Wilson, as he grew up with me.

Which server does this apply for?
Outlands

Extra Notes (optional):

Daniel Johnson's Civil Authority Application

OOC Name: bowser93

IC Character Name: Daniel Johnson

1) Please write a minimum of 3 paragraphs OOC'ly detailing why your character wishes to join the Combine Civil Authority and what lead your character to do so.
Okay. Daniel is the stereotypical man trying to forget his past. He was to redeem himself because he murdered his wife. He murdered his wife because they divorced and like most men, Daniel got jealous and tried getting her back. He of  course ended up killing her and decided to run just about a minute or two before the police broke his door down.
   Now when he got in the city, he decided he wanted a fresh start. He wanted a fresh start because if you killed someone, you’d be paranoid and want to be considered innocent too. So when the Combine invaded he thought the best way of becoming pure again was to become a member of the CCA.
   To get his 5 loyalist points to get his armband he lied a tiny bit though. When you read the backstory you  will see that he sort of frames the anti-citizens to get his final 2 points. Though they were anti-citizens, he provoked them to get them in trouble. So now he wants to join the CCA to redeem himself from his unforgiveable crime of killing his ex-wife.


2) Please detail your characters traits. (Eg, Pure, Lawful, Trustworthy)
Hot tempered, Trustworthy

3) Please provide 2 paragraphs about what you are expecting the Combine Civil Authority to be like for you and your character.
Well I’ve been in the CCA before, and I’ve worked my way up to Officer. I expect it to be similar to that. I’ve been away a while so I am expecting changes from back when I was in my prime. I want to work my way back up to Officer, but I know it will take quite a while, as it did before.
   I am not expecting to be treated like a king just because I was a high ranking member before. I know I will have to be pretty active to keep my CCA slot. I have forgotten some of the procedures and CCA rules, though, so I of course expect to re-learn those. And that is about it. I just expect what I did before.


4) Please provide a detailed back-story from an out-of-character perspective on your applying character. This section must be detailed and consist of a minimum of 300 words.
“Daniel you always do this!” A woman yelled as she lay curled up on a couch in a small apartment.
   â€œDiana you never fu**ing listen! I try and try but you never seem to give a sh*t!” Daniel yelled
   â€œWell you can just get the hell out of my apartment, because Johnny is coming over in a few minutes!” Diana yelled
   â€œWhy are you still seeing that scumbag, Diana!? I loved you and you just keep going out and about with other fu**ing guys! I gave my life to you!” Daniel shouted, knocks sounded on the door.
   â€œDaniel, just get the hell out before I call the cops!” The woman cried.
   â€œLos Angeles police department, open the door, please!” A muffled voice said from behind the door.
   â€œFu** you Diana , you are just a slut who will sleep with anyone who compliments you! How many boyfriends do you have?!”
   â€œJust get out! I swear to god Daniel I swear to god!” Diana yelled, clutching the blanket covering her bottom half.
   In his rage, Daniel grabbed a kitchen knife from the counter and screamed, “You whore! You’re about to get what’s coming to you!” Daniel ran at Diana, brandishing the knife.
   Daniel blacked out from his extreme rage, in front of him, he saw a limp woman, stab wounds not visible, but holes in the blanket where blood seeped out. He had brutally killed his ex-wife.
   The knife clattered to the floor, as blood gathered around his bare feet, voices were heard from outside the apartment, and larges bangs shook the whole apartment, and Daniel walked shakily to the window, tracking blood on the floor. He pried open a window, climbing onto the fire escape into the cool night air. He shambled down about 4 floors, and finally reached the lowest he could go, by now he heard his door crash open, and shouts. Daniel quickly unlatched the ladder leading down to the street level, and the rusty ladder shook as It banged to its lowest. Daniel ran as fast as he could, police sirens wailing in the distance.
   
A few years later…
   â€œWelcome to City45, please retrieve your new clothing from the designated area shown on the screen. You will receive 40 tokens along with your clothing. The following rules are to be followed at all times…” A robotic female voice spoke from a rather large screen on the train station wall. Daniel set his suitcase on the ground and wandered through the station to ground level.
   He stepped into the plaza, sighing. “A fresh start…” He told himself.
   Daniel milled around for a few days, doing menial tasks for loyalist points. One day he wandered into the CWU area, and to the storage area. He heard slight voices from within a door, so he picked up an old glass bottle, and whipped it at the door, “Hey! Who is that!? Get outta here before I get out there and kick your ass!” He heard from within. Daniel saw his chance.
   â€œWhy don’t you get out here and make me, asshole!” He said, in a disguised voice. He threw yet another bottle at the door.
   Daniel ran back to the nexus and waited until an 01 came out. “I know where some rebels are!” He said excitedly.
   He showed the 01 and his two RCT. Companions where they were, and said, “In there.”
   Daniel stood outside and watched them detaining the three men inside the warehouse. “So uh… do I get points for this?” Daniel said, curiously.
   â€œYes. 2 points.” The 01 responded.
   The Officers and the three detainees were brought to the Nexus, Daniel followed. When they were put in detainment, the officer demanded- “Apply.”
   â€œDaniel Johnson, 78183. Wait- that’s not right, uhm. 73183.”
   â€œAlright, 2 more points.” He said, handing him a loyalist armband.
   Daniel smiled widely. “A fresh start…”
A few days later…
   â€œDo you promise to follow orders, no matter what?” Asked the Officer.
   â€œWell of course.” Replied Daniel, excitedly.
   â€œHeadbutt me.” The Officer said blandly through his vocoder.
   â€œUh… Y-Yes sir…” Daniel brought his head back, and charged it in the Officer’s head as hard as he could, before his head could even come in contact with the Officer’s mask, his head was grabbed, and thrown down onto the Officer’s knee.
   Daniel awoke in the plaza, his head pounding. “Uh… damn…” Daniel grunted as he stood up.
   He walked quickly across the plaza, blood trickled down his cheek and onto his worn out blue jumpsuit. When he reached his apartment, he burst in, and shut the door, he paced back and forth, muttering profanities about how the Civil protection would pay. He thought for a moment, about grabbing a rusty pipe that dangled from the ceiling, and whacking a Recruit over the head with it- but of course he didn’t.
   When he woke up the next day, he stared out the window at the patrolling officers. He turned and stared at the rusty lead pipe, then back down at the street. “If you can’t beat ‘em… join ‘em.”


5) Have you ever had a CCA character here at Catalyst Gaming?  If so, explain why it was removed.
I have, he died in a gunfight with other units when he went berserk.


OOC Details

1. How long have you played on role-playing servers in general?
3 years. More maybe.

2. How long have you played on serious servers?
About 2 of my 3 years.

3. How long have you played on Catalyst Gaming?
I think a year now.

4. What Time zone are you in?
EST, That's GMT -5 I think.

5. In what country do you live?
USA

6. How old are you?
Almost 15

7. What�s your most memorable quality RP experience?
My friend owns his own server. Most of my best RP experiences are from his LA Noire server, I have a homeless child character who lives in an alley.

8. Do you consider yourself a good listener?
Yes I do.

---

IC Section

Full Name: Daniel Johnson
CID: 73183
Age: 32
Gender: Male
Height: 5'10
Hair Colour Dark Brown
Eye Colour: Green
Sexual Orientation: Straight
Weight: 135 Pounds
Mental Distinctions: N/A
Mental Defects: N/A
Mental Advantages: N/A
Notable Qualities: Trustworthy, Not easily turned from what is wanted.


1. Have you ever been detained or apprehended for a Sociostability Infringement before? If so, explain?
N/A

2. Do you regularly eat Combine Civil Authority Issued Rations?
Yes.

3. Are you willing to give your life to the cause of the Universal Union?
Yes I am.

4. Do you as a Citizen and future Civil Protection Member accept ALL actions performed by you and those under your command as your OWN responsibility?
Yes I do.

5. Will you remain loyal and faithful to the Universal Union as long as you live?
Yes.

6. Why do you want to join the Combine Civil Authority?
I see people running around the city, breaking simple rules that an ape could follow, and I feel like I can help them get back in line, and teach them that we are only here to help them.


Please sign the attached oath using only blue or black pen.