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300 | 4 | 39 | 931 | 246 | TJ had to bite his lip to prevent himself from reacting too wildly from the feel of Scab’s hand. He suppressed a disgusted groan as the gross sensation managed to get through his thick hands. Most things he touched normally didn’t faze him, so to have something as vividly… gross as this one was a shocker. Maybe he should focus on something else to get his mind off it. Like his introduction!
Scab…bard. Scabbard. TJ understandably nodded along as he related his Scab story. Nobody would want to be called a scab… Those are gross! At some point, TJ realized he hadn’t let go of Scabbard’s hand yet for some reason. Or rather- Scab hadn’t let go of his hand yet. What was this man’s grip?? Surely he had to have a fine one if he hoped to even lift that giant sword on his back, but this was getting ridiculous! TJ was making a very concentrated effort to slip out of it now while still maintaining his understanding expression. Come on… COME ON…
Roughly, TJ managed to jerk his hand from Scabbard’s. However, in order to maintain his gentlemanly airs, he fluidly transitioned his arm jerk into a hefty pat on Scab’s shoulder. “Yes!” he loudly stated, “I understand… It is unbefitting of anyone to have a less than admirable name no matter their appearance! You needn't worry about me referring to you as such, my friend. For now, though!” He pointed out down the road, “I believe that way is the road to our Cabbage Crasher!” Taking the lead, TJ started off for the shop Zehst broke through. | Name: Teodore Jay “TJ” Dugrass
Age: 20
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Height and Weight: 6’5’’, 200 lbs
Bounty: 0 Beli
Personality: TJ is a boisterous man that just as boisterously claims himself to be a gentleman. As such, he strives at all hours of the day to perfect his gentlemanly manners and abides by the gentleman’s code of conduct. There are times, however, that he must painfully lay down his morals for the sake of achieving his dream. Such as when it comes to money. TJ is a shrewd businessman that sells his services for a high price. He may dislike having to negotiate in an ungentlemanly manner, but he tries not to let it bother him.
History: TJ was born and raised in Loguetown. He greatly admired the fry cook industry and worked himself up from a humble dishwasher to an ace cook over the course of several years. As a child, he was told stories of a fabled island filled with legendary and exquisite creatures no man had ever laid their tongue on. As he grew into an adult, he aspired to one day find this island- not just for discovery’s sake, but to contribute to his larger goal of opening the greatest food service chain on the Grand Line. Originally he planned on working to save up more travel money, but the restaurant he worked in for most of his life recently bombed. Literally it blew up and left him jobless. Seeing it as a sign to get started, he has decided to become a pirate as a means for adventure.
Abilities:
-Boxing: As a gentleman, TJ is well versed in the basics of fisticuffs.
-Exquisite Grilled Cuisine: Being a former fry cook in a busy restaurant, TJ knows and is more than capable of making a variety of grill-related dishes on the fly.
Techniques: ---
Traits:Big Meaty Claws - TJ's fists are, for a lack of a better word, meaty. They are thick and tough, allowing him to block and punch without damaging his precious hands. At least most of the time.
Inventory: A stainless steel spatula and a copy of “The Gentleman’s Book of Etiquette.” |
301 | 4 | 40 | 1,471 | 121 | Scabbard looked sleepily at his newfound, musclebound friend as he put a friendly hand on his shoulder. Scabbard looked at the hand in mild surprise: Not many people were inclined to touch him....He understood, what with his grody skin, but Dugrass was one of the few who put a whole, five-fingered hand on him and not yelp or run away. He looked back at him with a smile, letting his handshaking hand fall lazily back to his side.
"...Cabbage Crasher?....Hey, that ain't bad..."
He watched him quickly take the lead and walk off with admiration. This guy must have a pretty solid sense of direction....Was he a navigator? Scab wondered of he'd ever been on a ship before...or if he'd like to. He could use someone who knew where he was going, if he was to get anywhere in........wherever he was planning on going? Where did he plan on going again? He hadn't really thought about it.....As he started to think about it, however, it became suddenly apparent to him that Dugrass had, in fact, walked off in that direction. He hurriedly followed to catch up, hefting his massive sword onto his shoulders once again. | Name: Scabbard
Age: 18(??)
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Height and Weight: 6'1, 171 lbs
Bounty: 0 Beli
Personality: Perpetually sleepy and groggy, as the pain of his burns often gives him trouble sleeping. Rarely raises his voice, if ever. Often laid-back and kind of lazy, but quietly focused when things get heavy. Has a strong, personal sense of justice, which he rarely talks about, but often puts into action when he can. He desires information about his past more than anything.
History: Scabbard's life is a complete blank slate to him. Waking up in a dingy Loguetown alley one day without a memory in his head, even a name. The only thing he had was a large sword, chained in its sheathe with a mysterious lock without a key, and a hideous body covered in painful burn scars. With no connections, or Beli to his name, he turned to petty crime to earn a living, taking the name of the first thing he saw: The scabbard of the locked-away blade. While life as a small-time crook gave him food to eat, he longed to learn who he really was, and saw the free life of a pirate as the ideal way to find out. Now his dream is to travel the seas, and one day find both his lost identity, and the key to the lock that seals his mysterious sword.
Abilities: Swordsmanship: Scabbard fights with the locked-up blade he awoke with. Since the blade is locked in its sheath, it serves as a blunt weapon.
Techniques:
Traits:
Inventory: Large, Two-Handed Locked-Up Sword |
302 | 4 | 41 | 1,774 | 401 | Hwah! Giko really heard it, Claribel quickly found out. It wasn't that loud though, was it? She didn't seem to notice, or mind, as the seagulls began to crowd about, despite their obvious Marine symbolism. But then...Claribel was rebuked by a sudden interloper, who took Giko's hand in his.
Giko didn't seem to mind, or hear, simply asking Claribel another question, but then a seagull got way too close, shoving itself into Giko's mouth.
"Ah! You..." Claribel hissed, charging over, slipping past the dude, grabbing the offending bird and pulling, yanking the struggling bird out of Giko's mouth. Holding its lower body, it began to flap its wings fervently, Claribel and the dude guy both within its range. Claribel got a face full of feathery fowl f...f...wings...before she let go of the bird, tossing it into the air furiously, before kicking her feet at the crowd still picking at donut bits. She cried, "Go away you stupid birds! Birds are so stupid and boring! They just fly and poop!"
Calming down, she looked between Giko and guy person, before slipping her TD off of Giko's head, eyes flipping between the two. Expectantly. Claribel seemed to be expecting a lot these past few minutes! | Name: Claribel Donner
Age: 17
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Height and Weight: 5'4'', 100 lbs
Bounty: 0 Beli
Personality: Claribel is about as carefree as they come. When it comes to people, she is generally pretty dismissive of most, often right to their faces. Her rudeness doesn't stop there, as her honesty often comes to mouth before anything resembling restraint. She is also stubborn and single-minded: when she sets herself to something she's probably not stopping until it's done. She can be quite clever when she has the care for it: combat, for instance. She also tends to take some things for granted, as her upbringing wasn't exactly the most normal. One thing she cannot stand is the mundane, thought not because she dislikes it, but because it doesn't stick in her brain at all. She seeks interesting people and situations, sometimes to the point of recklessness. One might even say that's what she lives for. She certainly has a bit of rebellious, teenage spirit, as she occasionally does things if she thinks something interesting will come out of it.
History: Claribel has been familiar with the modern sea of pirates for a long time, as she came into this world on the vessel of what would become a pirate ship. At first, it had been the vessel of a lucrative business as an upscale passenger liner, but it was no stranger to pirates, as it weathered numerous scuffles in the East Blue Seas thanks to the strength and wit of Flors Donner. However, as it so often does, tragedy struck, in a form. After a journey that took place while Claribel was at the tender age of 3, a passenger who had been wounded in a pirate attack sought to press charges against Flors Donner and his estate, the legal avenues proving successful, the hefty fees damaging the company beyond repair. Though he was required to turn over his ship to account for bankruptcy, he denied this, running off with his ship, daughter, wife, and trusted crew. Now he was at an impasse: having fought pirates for such a length, he had no desire to enter their ranks, let alone with a woman and child on board, but the Government had scorned him, so he was now technically an outlaw. As he struggled with his options, the answer came to his from the mouth of his wife, Isabel, who said something he'd never have considered with the safety of his wife and daughter to consider.
Flors Donner became a pirate. But with a wife and child he could not afford to take a bounty, so while he flew the black flag symbolizing freedom, he never pillaged or killed. No, he targeted those who'd plagued his business for years on end, aiming at pirates. Not at first, of course: while he was one of the strongest men he'd known, his crew tough and loyal, if small, and Isabel was getting better with a rifle for those worst case scenarios, he wasn't convinced they were safe. So Flors turned to the newspaper, following the paths of pirates, arriving like a bountiful wind in their ashy wake. He went from town to town to find those who had been left behind by the Marines, and relighting their fire, giving them purpose. And so the Inferno Pirates sailed to the day where the sight of their flag would strike fear in the hearts of pirates and hope in the heart of the common man.
As for the toddler on board, Claribel's childhood was spent among the sailors, learning their names and their stories, picking up some useful seafaring knowledge and skills to boot. After a while, that was: not because she was young when she was taught. When it came to combat she learned much quicker. But while the crew initially believe it to be a matter of interest, or talent, the truth would be learned later. Isabel had become stricken with grief upon learning of the death of her parents, news of which was relayed to Claribel. And yet, some hours later, Claribel was upset, not sure of why her mother was sad. After being told once more, she was satisfied, until the next morning, when Claribel was once more confused about her mother's mood. The young girl had known that her mother was sad, but she couldn't remember why.
After she'd forgotten the death of her grandparents yet again, Flors was getting concerned, and began to seek out some medical advice. Claribel had always been a bit absent minded, but this was a bit much. After some study, there was a hypothesis that seemed to fit what Flors knew of his daughter: Claribel had a memory disorder. She could only remember things that were interesting to her the first time. Otherwise, she would need to be told repeatedly. Even then, however, she still risked forgetting again after a while.
Claribel certainly didn't forget that. She even got a bit worried: what kind of things had she forgotten? If something became boring to her, would she forget about it one day? She couldn't just decide what was genuinely interesting to her or not either. After some thinking, she finally concluded that if she was going to have problems remembering things, then she should just get as many interesting memories as she could.
Through her teenage years, Claribel would finally start helping a bit more out on the ship, mostly aiding in the sailing until age fifteen, where her father allowed her to start fighting alongside the rest of the crew, where she showed that she did have a good deal of strength. But once the novelty of that wore off, she was starting to get bored: she'd been on the boat for her entire life, after all. She had to come up with something.
Then, almost two years later, opportunity knocked. After a battle with pirates, the crew looted a Devil Fruit, and Flors sent the quartermaster to work on getting a buyer. Claribel wasn't having any of that though. In the dead of night, she went to where the Fruit was kept and ate as much as she could stomach (less than half) before leaving the rest and leaving the boat in the middle of the night, only leaving a note explaining that she'd left. Chances are they were going to be pissed, but Claribel was happy. Not that she was now free: she always had been. But now all the adventures and stories she'd had with them were good memories, and would probably never become boring, so she'd never forget them. Now she had to contend with the day to day: figuring out how to get along alone while also working out the kinks of her tricky Fruit. But six months after striking out, three of them on the legendary Loguetown, she's starting to get a bit bored of her locale, wondering when she's going to get to start the interesting life she'd been looking for.... It can't start in a boring way, after all!
Abilities:Echo Echo Fruit (Eko Eko no Mi)A paramecia-type Devil Fruit that bestows Claribel with the ability to create echoes where there otherwise wouldn't have been any. The only requirement is that she must be near the origin of the noise within the last minute. Then, with her hands, she can manipulate the air to recreate the sound, one of her hands emitting pulses of faint white light as she does so. It doesn't need to be identical, however, as she can also manipulate where it goes, though some applications of her ability are unbeknownst to her: she can make a sound pass back and forth over a person, making them hear one thing several times, or she can redirect the whole wave at once onto a single point, creating a much louder resonance in a small area, attacking the eardrums. However, every time she makes a sound repeat, it steadily decreases in volume, like any echo. Deaf opponents or any with ear protection are more resistant to her abilities, as they can't hear her misdirection. It's worth noting that her control of sound is limited to the medium of gases. Liquids aren't workable (such as water, the bane of Fruit users) and solids more so, meaning she can't redirect or copy sounds she can feel from the ground or hear while underwater (though if the sound is loud enough it enters the air, however muffled, that's another story).
Rod Fu - Claribel is tough enough to hold her own, using a sturdy iron rod as a bludgeoning instrument.
Navigation - Claribel's time at sea has made her into a reliable navigator as well as a talented cartographer. She is not only knowledgeable regarding weather and world events, but is also well capable of using tools such as maps, compasses and sea charts.
Techniques: Claribel doesn't yell out her technique names in the middle of battle, but that doesn't mean they can't be named!
Echo – Claribel takes a sound or phrase just emitted and repeats it. She can change the location it comes from as long as it's fairly close by. The volume is decreased slightly, however.
Echo Pop – A natural extension of her Echo. Claribel takes a sound, usually a very loud one like a gunshot or the bang of her rod hitting something hard (like a skull!), and repeats it numerous times in quick succession, usually right by someone's head. The result is a sudden burst of disorienting sound that often leaves the target venerable to further attack. It's tricky to pull off, since it requires more precision, so Claribel isn't capable of it yet!
Shoosh – Claribel redirects the voice of a person away from their intended target. If someone is trying to yell for help, then Claribel can redirect the sound so that it travels backwards, for instance. This doesn't affect the volume of the sound though, and she has trouble catching the further echoes. A yell in a narrow hallway will carry both ways no matter what she does, but someone yelling from a boat in the ocean to a nearby shore is out of luck if Claribel wants them to keep quiet.
A-pu-pup! Shoosh – A more precise version of the standard technique, Claribel 'grabs' a sound, effectively quieting it down, redirecting it in the same bubble, so to speak, without letting the sound bounce off another surface and echo naturally. Imagine a sound as a superball, bouncing madly, each bounce making the noise that reverberates and become audible. Were Claribel to grab that sound midair, redirecting it back and forth until it naturally petered out, she would create a silence from a sound, in effect. Like Echo Pop, this technique is beyond her current ability due to the focus and precision required.
Traits:Improved Perception: She has an easier time hearing the echos and reverberations left by other things, and has better hearing for it. However, it's dependent on conditions: it a crowded street, there's so much noise it's hard to focus on any particular sound unless it stands out, but in silent room, she can probably hear the fast heartbeat of a hiding person. Aside from mere perception, she can't do much with it. Being able to tell if someone is lying or not based on their heartbeat would be to difficult even in ideal conditions for instance. Focus is also important: in the heat of battle, differentiating sounds is certainly trickier.
Inventory:Iron Rod: Sturdy enough to trade blows and noisy on the right surfaces. It's straight, cylindrical, and a bit less than a meter long.
Tone Dials (TDs): Claribel almost always has a pair around her neck or over her ears. |
303 | 4 | 42 | 1,829 | 56 | Name: Gold Dorado Jr.
Location: Logue Town - Outside the store
Mentions:
The polite smile did little to hide an expression which could be described as a 'question mark' while regarding Zehst. The young man was odd, no doubt, but at the same time Gold felt like he had very little ground to judge when it came to oddity, so just smiled and tried to reason with him.
"She's a devil fruit user, and if I had to hazard a guess, she ate a pretty good one too. Probably best if you didn't try to catch her." He left an element of jest in his tone. The offer of food did not go unnoticed by Gold, and it was not an unappreciated one either. Despite being rather well traveled doctor and a martial artist... he hadn't the faintest idea how to actually cook decent food. He tried it once, assuming it to be no different than performing surgery.
That was an incident, to say the least.
"Didn't really do much but I'll take you up on that, mh-hm. Call me Dorado - or Gold, whatever suits you." He turns his attention back to the three younger individuals, brow raised inquisitively. "You three seem pretty fresh, what're you doing in this tourist trap? With Devil Fruit abilities, at that." | Name: Gold Dorado Jr.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Height and Weight: 6'1, 169lbs
Bounty: 0 Beli
Personality: Life is meant to be lived, conveniences are meant to be used, and money is there to be spent. Gold takes the "live fast die hard" route to life, a character unbecoming of his lofty position as a man of medicine. Still, there credit should be given where it is due, it'd be difficult to call Gold miserable man of any sort, often viewing situations through a positive lens despite how hopeless the situation may be (even if he was the one to make that situation hopeless, like with say... loan sharks). Nor is he an unfriendly man, if only a tad crude and tactless at times. His debt-riddled lifestyle lead to him travelling quite a bit, making him a worldly young man who has already stepped foot in the Grand Line.
History: How a family of ancient medicine men and doctors managed to become habitual gamblers and eternal debtors is anyone's guess. Gold Jr. is just another one in the line, taking up the debts of his father alongside his brother, Silver Dorado. The difference between the two being that while Gold chose to indulge in life much like his father, Silver eventually took the straight and narrow path, driving a wedge between the two as they turned out to be very, very different people. Eventually their father passed from his poor life style, and the two brothers were rather suddenly left to their own devices. Rather than resolve to simply go their separate ways, there was a confrontation over which path they should both take together, employing their Old World Acupuncture as a weapon against one another. It did eventually lead to them both going their own ways, Silver to the Marines and Gold deeper into the gamblers lifestyle. This does not mean that Gold has no ambition, not at all - he is a doctor after all, and he ultimately hopes to help others. Were it up to him, he'd have found the Panacea by now.
Abilities:
Old World Acupuncture
What differentiates Old World Acupuncture from what an elder on any number of islands may know how to do? Well, for starters it works. Gold is not one to go into the details out of want of not wanting to sound absurd, but Old World Acupuncture involves manipulation of the bodies energy to hasten healing processes, and in some cases do the healing for the bodies. As such, Gold has intimate knowledge of the 'meridian system' in humans and fishmen (although there is a gap in his knowledge when it comes to the longarm and longleg tribes), and how to enhance and/or reduce the effectiveness of their bodies. It's essentially a medical martial art, especially with how Gold applies it. There is a form of it which exists without needles, using instead contact through the fingers and a burst of 'life energies' to instead replicate the effects of needles, although that is substantially more risky to use on an individual due to its far more aggressive nature.
Techniques: ---
Traits:
Enhanced Agility - You'd not expect a doctor, especially not one versed in 'acupuncture', to be capable of moving at the speeds that Dorado is capable of, but Old World Acpuncture is no standard medical practice. In practice, Gold's speed can be considered 'deceptive', flowing movements suddenly followed up by crashing and precise blows.
Master of Anatomy - A given, for the most part. Although lacking any actual medical qualification, Gold is one of the better doctors out there.
Inventory: Log Pose, acupuncture needles |
304 | 4 | 43 | 1,834 | 91 | After all the fighting, the raid upon the store had finally ended. The gangsters had been subdued, Nose Ring was taken away by a bounty hunter of sorts, and the store was (sort of) intact. What's more, the shopkeeper was appreciative of the state his store was in, even offering to take the impromptu group to a restaurant, of all things! Just how bad would it have been if the group of oddities weren't there?
Probably not as bad, honestly - but that's neither here nor there.
Aside from that, the Rocket Man had introduced himself to Tenmon. His name was Zehst. Zehst Messerschmitt. Not only that, but he revealed that his power came from a Devil Fruit. Although Tenmon had already deduced that a while ago, given that he had learned the ins and outs of Devil Fruits when he was younger. Too bad he had only gotten that explanation after he had eaten one.
"Roke-Roke Fruit..." Tenmon said, thinking about the power.
"I assume it's a Paramecia type, right?"
Tenmon didn't wait for an answer. Instead, he watched as the mantis-woman became a... woman-woman? A Paramecia and a Zoan type? It was true, the closer you get to the Grand Line, the more Devil Fruit users you find. Of course, the Grand Line was full of people like that - himself included. The mantis woman was named Lucretia Savaronitelle. She seemed to carry a noble aura about her. Probably not on the level of one of those World Nobles, but definitely wealthy to some degree.
The Doctor also seemed to know about Devil Fruits. Gold Dorado Jr, they called him. Huh. The name had some similarities to the first Pirate King. Tenmon wondered if he got asked about that often.
At this point, everyone had introduced themselves in some way - except for Tenmon, who had said very little about himself through the entire ordeal. Bah. Ninjas don't reveal their identities, anyway. Yeah.
...
Well, it seemed like a good excuse. He'd just introduce himself later. That'd work.
"You three seem pretty fresh, what're you doing in this tourist trap? With Devil Fruit abilities, at that."
"Hm? Me? I'm going on a journey through the Grand Line." | Name:
Tenmon Tamashi
Age:
17
Gender:
Male
Race:
Human
Height and Weight:
168 cm (5'6")
66 kg (145 lb)
Bounty:
0 Beli
Personality:
In contrast to most other ninja of the Wano Country, Tenmon seems to be quite casual about being a ninja, and often demonstrates his skill and agility in front of people while declaring himself to be one. Whereas most ninjas would be geared to solitary operations, Tenmon doesn't seem to mind working independently or in a group. He appears to carry a fairly level-headed aura, rarely becoming agitated or worried about matters. This casual nature seems to also extend to combat, where Tenmon assesses his enemies with a cool approach, while also acting quite respectfully to his opponents most of the time.
Despite this overall casual nature, Tenmon is more than willing to adopt a more serious persona for the sake of victory, becoming significantly more formidable and dangerous. In these situations, he may also adopt a more cold-blooded mentality, becoming willing to kill as a last resort, if he deems it to be necessary.
Unsurprisingly, Tenmon isn't one to talk about his history. Unless someone actively tries to pry into it, Tenmon will often play his past off as something "unimportant".
The eccentricity of his father has influenced him a bit, although it is often belied by his casual side. Tenmon is sometimes fond of jokes and nonsensical actions at inappropriate or tense moments - cheering on his comrades in a fight when he could be actually helping them by joining in, for example.
He's also got a tendency to "disappear" and "appear" in places without being noticed. That's just a part of being a ninja.
History:
A trained assassin and sole user of the Burst Technique™, Tenmon seeks to become the ultimate ninja (whatever that entails).
The Tamashi Clan was once a recognized force within the Wano Country, a centuries-old clan of ninjas that had been known for their mercenary work throughout the nation, which allowed them to become a wealthy organization over the course of years. Their desire for an even greater profit led them to eventually abandon Wano, settling on one of the many "remote" islands within Paradise with the intention of expanding their potential clientèle - by taking mercenary work from various islands as opposed to a single nation.
The only son of the Tamashi Clan's Grandmaster, Tenmon supposedly consumed a Devil Fruit at a very early age, being uneducated about their existence. The Bomu Bomu no Mi proved to be a dangerous power to wield whilst growing up, leading some of the members being afraid of touching Tenmon for fear of him blowing up. Tenmon's father - the eccentric Grandmaster Soju - saw it as a grand opportunity to cultivate and incorporate Tenmon's power into his ninja training. This was the beginning of the development of the Burst Technique™, and a majority of Tenmon's childhood was spent developing it. Many of Tenmon's training sessions were done within the forest, alone. His Devil Fruit power was "too risky" to practice around other people after all. Charred grass and ashen trees were a good way to show he was making progress, anyway.
During his training, the mercenary work of the clan flourished, with many different islands and people requesting various jobs. This would eventually prove to be the undoing of the clan when the clan undertook a job that involved, well, killing a World Noble. Being from the Wano Country, the Tamashi Clan was unaffliated with the World Government and therefore held no sense of value or knowledge about the World Nobles. The consequences were catastrophic, with Marines besieging and destroying the Tamashi Clan in its near entirety.
Tenmon returned to what was essentially ruins; a severely damaged temple littered with bodies. His isolated training was the only reason he had survived, and yet he felt a deep sense of regret and despair for not being there to defend the clan its time of need. There was no way for him to enact vengeance, either; the Marines had already departed. The event sparked in him a hatred of the World Government, particularly the World Nobles, and the Admiral that launched the attack on his temple. That was only four years ago.
Now, Tenmon searches for that same Admiral. Although his search was set back by arriving in Loguetown a few months ago: He had stowed away on one too many ships, and ended up being taken in the wrong direction - out of the Grand Line. Tenmon has since used Loguetown to gather whatever resources he can, and intends to set out upon a journey to become a powerful ninja, and challenge the Admiral that destroyed his clan.
But even so, Tenmon questions his motive of revenge every now and again, feeling that it wouldn't be the clan's will for him to seek it.
Abilities:
Ninjutsu
As ninja from Wano Country, Tenmon is able to perform various ninja arts, in addition to being unnaturally agile and dexterous. His abilities combine atypical weaponry with the power of his Devil Fruit, giving him a high amount of versatility in combat.
Devil Fruit: Bomu Bomu no Mi
The Bomu Bomu no Mi is a Paramecia-type Devil Fruit that allows the user to make any part of his or her body explode, making the user a Bomb Human.
Eating this Devil Fruit at an early age, Tenmon has been raised to develop it into a fighting style, creating the Burst Technique™; a combination of unarmed ninjutsu and his explosive power. The fighting style allows Tenmon to deal agile explosive blows, in addition to multi-hit attacks for more - albeit significantly weaker - explosions. While powerful, the fighting style is kind of a double-edged sword: the collateral damage followed by the explosions is generally very undesirable (shipwrights HATE him) - especially if allies are nearby. Tenmon generally holds off on the Burst Technique™ as a result.
At the moment, the explosions created by Tenmon's named moves are - at most - strong enough to leave medium-large holes in brick walls, but do not quite have the fire-power to destroy much beyond that.
Techniques:
Ninjutsu Techniques
Ninja Arts: Sweeping Dusk Blade
Tenmon kneels and dashes forward, cleaving the air with his sword as he passes by. Used to attack a single target quickly, but can also hit multiple enemies, although Tenmon has to hit them each individually - a difficult feat that becomes increasingly harder to accomplish the more targets there are.
Ninja Arts: Crescent Strike
Tenmon performs a front flip, and kicks using the momentum of the flip to deal more damage.
Ninja Arts: Half-Moon Strike
An attack to be used directly after its crescent counterpart. Tenmon vaults off of an enemy he's kicked, jumping behind them to kick again.
Ninja Arts: Flash Step
Tenmon quickly dashes in order to avoid an attack, or get into a more favourable position. Doesn't seem to be as fast as Soru, as the moves do not share the same technique: Soru requires kicking off the ground at least 10 times, whereas Ninja Arts: Flash Step is just a very swift dash.
Ninja Arts: Throw
Tenmon throws a miscellaneous item at an enemy. Not really a Ninja Art, but he calls it one anyway.
Burst Techniques
Ninja Arts: Smoke Burst
Tenmon obscures himself in an explosion of smoke, allowing him to move to a different location quickly, or attack enemies while the smokescreen persists.
Ninja Arts: Chi Burst
Tenmon thrusts his palm outward creates an explosion in the hand. In comparison to his other moves, this one has slightly more range, and doesn't rely on his hand making contact with the target. However, it's a fairly simple move to the point of being almost awkward to use.
Ninja Arts: Burst Bomb
Tenmon throws a punch and detonates his fist upon contact, resulting in a high amount of damage from both the punch and the following explosion.
Ninja Arts: Burst Crescent
Similarly to Ninja Arts: Crescent Strike, Tenmon performs a front flip and kicks. Tenmon detonates his leg on impact, offering a high amount of destructive power.
Ninja Arts: Spiral Dragon Burst
Tenmon jumps into the air and spins while upside down, delivering a kick while detonating his leg.
Traits:
Blank.
Inventory:
Yugure
A simple weapon bestowed to Tenmon by the Tamashi Clan. Fundamentally, Yugure is a normal ninjatō which features a blue handle and silver guard. The sheath is entirely blue, but also has circular designs embedded on the length of the sheath. As one can imagine, the blade of the weapon is particularly thick and short in comparison to longer swords such as a katana, being around 50cm in length. It's small size makes it fairly simple for Tenmon to wield and also allows for faster attacks.
Kunai
A single kunai to be employed as a dagger secondary to Yugure, allowing for more consecutive attacks and accurate critical strikes (he goes for the eyes).
Picture of Tenmon's Father
RIP Grandmaster Soju |
305 | 4 | 44 | 1,027 | 2,970 | Name: Chamber R. Wesson
Location: Logue Town - Guns & Donuts!
Mentions:
WHAT?...SORRY, CAN YOU SAY THAT AGAIN? I CAN’T READ LIPS AUFUGHAH!
Chamber blinked when he saw the fat seagull lodge itself into the doughnut-smeared mouth of his soulmate. It was the most random thing he had ever seen and before he could attempt a heroic rescue, the wind was stolen from his sails when her friend stepped forth to unplug the bird. Chamber raised his arm to guard his face from the frantic slapping the bird gave, and when the creature was freed into the sky, his attention was directed down to the swarm of other birds that had suddenly gathered around him to pick up the doughnut crumbs.
Growing irritated, Chamber reached down to grab one of the greedy seagulls by the back of its neck. He then drew from a holster at his hip, one of his pistols and pressed to the side of the bird’s head. Glaring down at the crowd of foul, he threatened, “If you guys don’t want to see this bird blasted all over the pavement, then you’ll get out of here!”
All the seagulls stopped eating to stare up at the gunman and regarded their friend who was trembling and wiggling his webbed feet in panic. With a war cry-like seagull squeal, the first bird angrily launched like a missile at Chamber to connect with his head.
“Agh! What the hell!?” he cursed.
Soon a flock of angry seagulls were pecking and bombarding him left and right. Rising to his feet, he swatted at the birds and found himself being slowly drawn away from Giko.
“You’re interfering!” he shouted. “My darling! Wait for me! I will return with fried chicken!” | Photo depicts the loot he sometimes gets from hunting pirates.
Age: 25
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Height and Weight: 5’10” and 165 lbs.
Bounty: 0 Beli
Personality: Chamber Remington Wesson is mostly a friendly guy, but he takes his business seriously. He takes pride in his abilities as a marksman, a gunmith, and his ability to…yodel. Yodeling is normally how he makes his entrance when he isn’t executing a target from a great distance. Not only is he proud, but he is also arrogant. When you’re as good as him with guns…well…you have every right to be if you can back it up, and Chamber takes gunslinging to a whole new level. He believes he is the fastest and deadliest shot in the World, and will defend his self-proclaimed title.
Chamber is under the blind impression that people not only like his yodeling but his handsome looks. He will try to impress cute and beautiful girls—one of his goals being to find a wife so he can pass down his amazing genes. Truly, his eyes were a gift from God.
When he isn’t hunting bounties, he is tinkering with his rifle, cleaning his guns, and training. There is always room for improvement and if he wants to truly be the best, then he has to work at it. Hunting bounties allows him to encounter new and unique foes that bring him fresh and interesting encounters. He chose the life of a bounty hunter to polish his skills even despite…well…being a wanted man himself.
History:Chamber hails from St. Poplar, an island town in Paradise connected to Water 7 and Enies Lobby by Sea Train. He lived the dream of most boys, wanting to grow up to be a Marine and he worked hard to achieve that dream. His father, Marine Captain Smith Wesson, was his role model. He was strong, proud, and an excellent shot with a gun. When his father returned home from R&R, they would practice and Chamber’s hawkeye gift was noticed early on. When Chamber came of age, he left his mother Annabelle to follow his father into the employment of the World Government. He and his father traveled all over and there were many instances where Chamber got to test his gunslinging skills for real. It was when Chamber began to modify the musket that he had been issued that he became aware of the World Government’s restrictions. He wasn’t allowed to modify government equipment even if it was to improve its performance. Officers tended to be the only individuals to allow special gear and equipment, and Chamber thought that policy was ridiculous. His skills were underappreciated. The officers on the ship tried to keep him in their shadows. He constantly butted-heads with a lieutenant named Bass Cooley who was under his father and who he noticed seemed…awfully close. It was as though his father had found himself a new son while he was out to sea for so long and he treated Chamber like all the other Marines. A fierce rivalry formed between him and Cooley, and no matter how much Bass disliked him he knew that Chamber was the better shot. He had to get rid of the kid if was to stay in Captain Wesson’s good graces. He was up for promotion!
On a mission to apprehend Sugar Ray pirates off the coast of the Conomi Islands, there was a heated battle between the two vessels and a violent exchange of cannon fire. In the middle of the battle, Lieutenant Cooley forced Chamber overboard. He was caught between the ships and their fire and in order to survive, he had to dive and swim as far out of the way of the two ships. He was left stranded in the ocean and exhaustion eventually took him. He washed ashore Cocoyasi Village and was rescued by a fisherman named Gil. Gil gave him a place to stay until he could get in contact with his unit, and when he managed to he learned that he was KIA. He had a decision to make then. He could either return to his pathetic life under the foot of every officer on the ship, or he could make his own life and live unrestrained. Chamber chose to do the latter and while he stayed with Gil in Cocoyasi, he modified his musket and other weapons the way he had always wanted to. He continued to go after criminals in his own way as a feared bounty hunter.
So his mother didn’t worry over the possibility of his death in combat, Chamber sent his mother a letter and news traveled to Captain Wesson that his son was still alive. Lieutenant Cooley labeled him as a deserter for having not returned to the Marines, and he has since become an outlaw.
His bounty journey has taken him to Logue Town, a popular trade center where he knows he’s going to collect some loot.
Abilities:
Extraordinary Marksman – Chamber is a gifted man. “Son of Gun” would be true. The way he handles his guns is completely unorthodox and it’s a sight to behold. His eyes are sharp, his reaction time even sharper, and his depth perception so keen that he could shoot the wings off a fly’s back. He has designed all of his weapons around his style of combat, and a lot of his designs are hidden within his long coat.
Tae Kwon Gun – It is Chamber’s martial art style. It is similar to Tae Kwon Do with his flurry of kicks except that each of his strikes trigger mechanisms that he calls Sliders and they are strapped to his forearms and shins. They not only act as guards against bladed weaponry but they carry magazines of rounds. For each thrust and of his legs and fists, the slider moves back, loading a round into the chamber, and then slides forward releasing the round. So while combating his foes, he can also fill them full of lead.
Burdened Fighter – If only one knew how many weapons he has concealed on his person. It makes him heavier than he really is and his muscles have been conditioned to bear the burden. So if he seems quick while burdened, wait until he takes it all off. He becomes even faster and his techniques even fiercer.
Techniques:
Ricochet – A gun trick where Chamber will shoot a round off a deflective surface and the round with change directory to hit the enemy where he or she didn’t see it coming. He has also used this technique to knock enemy rounds off course of their intended target. He can also perform this technique with his musket.
Quick Draw – The hand is quicker than the eye and Chamber is quick if not the quickest.
Gun Jam – Using his Quick Draw technique, Chamber can jam another weapon by lodging a bullet down the enemy’s barrel.
Traits: ---
Inventory:
Sliders – 4 – 8 round capacity.
Pistols – 4 – 8 round capacity.
Derringer -2- 1 round each.
Musket – 1 – single round reload capacity. Attachments: Bayonet and Scope. |
306 | 4 | 45 | 2,795 | 294 | The area immediately around Giko erupted into chaos as her newfound friends batted away the bird in her mouth while trenchcoat guy held a gun to one's head and screamed something. She couldn't really make out what he was saying, since her ears were still ringing from the TD set, but it was definitely very passionate and filled with righteous anger, so good on him. By the time she was finished coughing up feathers that had gotten lodged in her mouth-joints, the poor man was already halfway down the block.
"Well, he seemed nice enough.", Giko commented as the hotblooded seagull-threatener was carried away by a tide of birds. She reached down again to pluck another doughnut from the bag, only to realize it had been stolen in the confusion- one of the gulls, probably. Giko wiped her face on her sleeve and massaged her ears as she looked back over to Claribel.
"So that's a tone dial, huh? Technology these days is really something. I'd rather have something a little less... Well, loud. Anyway-", Giko continued, running her hands through Claribel's hair, "-So what do you use for your hair, anyway? It's so silky! Are you a natural pink?" | Name: Giko G. Gearbox
Age: Claims to be 19
Gender: Claims to be female
Race: Claims to be human
Height and Weight: Claims to be 165 cm. Refuses to give a weight.
Bounty: 0 Beli
Personality: Absolutely insistent on staying in-character as a teenage girl and will refuse to acknowledge anything that conflicts with this. Giko's character is that of a gutsy, cheerful girl in her late teens. She tends to brush off insults to herself as a matter of course, but can't tolerate ones aimed at her friends.
History: A mysterious middle-aged man who operates a life-size teenage girl puppet, he refuses to acknowledge his own existence, instead insisting that he is an ordinary 19-year-old girl named Giko, who states that her goal is to find her father, apparently a famous dollmaker who left on a journey to the Black Drum Kingdom and never returned. Her other motivation seems to be loneliness, as she has resolved to make a friend on every island of the Grand Line. Things haven't been working out very well on the latter; people seem like they'd rather call her "pervert" and "old man", but she's sure that'll change once she reaches the Grand Line proper.
Abilities:
Master Puppeteer - Giko's operator is a ridiculously skilled puppeteer and ventriloquist capable of operating Giko in a lifelike manner resembling a teenage girl. If it wasn't for the creepy guy sticking his hand up the back of her shirt, you'd hardly know the difference.
Craftsman - Giko's operator seems to have a high level of engineering skill, considering that he apparently built Giko and is capable of repairing her from scrap material.
Techniques:
Giko Punch: Giko can fire her fist via a large spring embedded in her forearm. It's then reeled back in using a cable that connects the fist and stump.
Giko Hurricane: Giko's mouth contains a small breath dial filled with corrosive gas, which can be used to eat through metal.
Giko Mortar: A small, sturdy mortar capable of firing explosive shells, located in Giko's left leg.
Traits:
Inventory: Life-sized teenage girl puppet named Giko with a number of concealed weapons. |
307 | 5 | 0 | 1,703 | 721 | The Director looked over the agents with hidden curiosity. They were all either quiet or engaging in mindless chit-chat to pass the time. The Director smiled as he looked over the files that were on his desk. "Jacob Huntington? Dull background to the collection of people here. But still someone to keep an eye on. Counselor, what happened to the last shipment of experimental weapons. Binary rifles? Was that there name?"
The Counselor looked at his PDA and sighed. "I am sorry to report sir but they are currently in rebel hands, they ambushed the delivery ships and stole the cargo."
The Director slammed his fist down on the table making the Counselor jump. "God damn it! These rebels stealing everything I try to get delivered! No matter. A perfect first mission for our new recruits but training time first. Then mission briefs."
Pressing a button on his desk a woman's voice spoke out across the large hall, the voice had a robotic tinge in the way it spoke as she addressed the Agents in the large hall, who had now gone quiet.
"Welcome you are one of 49 elite military members who have been chosen for the new Freelancer project. We hope that you have gotten your self comfortable to listen to this recording as you will need to listen very carefully.
You will no longer be know by your Civilian names, instead you will be addressed by your new code names. Which will have already been assigned. This must be used at all time this is for your safety! Before entering live combat you will be hooked up with various armour enhancements and an extremely Valuable AI. This AI is suited to you and will help you use your new abilities safely and efficiently.
Working together is crucial to completing your objective and scoring high in the leaderboards. The leaderboards track your personal progress throughout your missions. No matter where you are on the leaderboard you will not be treated any differently, these leaderboards are for The directors and the boards so don't worry about them. There are a few rules that must be followed:
AIs must not communicate with each other.
No contact to the outside is allowed via any mode of communication.
Use of live weapons or abilities unless inside a training zone or on a mission is prohibited.
Obey any orders given to you by the Director or Counselor.
Thank you for your patience the Director will now address you".
The Directors voice followed the woman's after a short pause, he had made his way down to the center stage while the presentation was going.
"Good morning agents. To assess who is going to be implanted with what A.I. we will begin this morning with a round of sparring. We will be assessing how you fight and act individually and together. Your opponents will be military grade robots with military A.I.. You will be outnumbered two to one so take this into account. Please make your way towards the training facility now."
The training facility in question was a large room filled with a simulation battle environment made to look like an abandoned village. All the agents would be able to use live round but their armour abilities would be disabled. Their opponents stand at the other side of the room, black suits of armour armed with simulation rounds that pack a hell of a punch but are not lethal.
Washington was the first in, looking at situation he grimaced. "Man, robots punch like heavyweight boxers and take as much punishment as a tank. Not fair."
Once all the agents were in a horn buzzed signaling the start of the exercise. The robots jumped to life taking up defensive position and throwing smoke grenades in front of them to cover their advance and Advance they did. Slowly moving forwards preparing to engage whoever got close.
Washington looked over at the rest of the agents. "Hey guys and gals names Washington, these robots are going to be a bitch to take down. Word to note they'll keep on going even if you knock of their heads. They can take information from other bots to see so if one sees you they all see you. Only reason I know so much about these bastards is this ain't my first rodeo with them. Got stuck in a training simulator with two of them, they beat me good. So don't get caught and if you do have to hit them then hit them as hard as you fucking can! Apart from that..."
Washington pulled the pin on a grenade. "Have fun!"
Vaulting over the wall he had been hiding behind he threw the grenade into the crowd of machines. They jumped away from the grenade and Washington was there to meet them blasting one in the arm with his AR he was met with a punch to the gut sending him flying over a wall. "Son of a bitch!"
Raising his gun he let of a few bursts into the nearest bot taking it down before being hit by another robot on his left shoulder. Knocking him prone. | Name: Jacobs Huntington
Codename: Washington
Age: 27
Gender: Male
Armour Ability: Teleportation
Implanted A.I.: Epsilon - Increases awareness and heightened senses by increasing the amount of stimulus the brain can take. Epsilon yearns for knowledge and will cause his implanty to become more studious.
Appearance:
Personality: Jacobs is an optimistic guy who always sees the funny side of a dangerous situation. He hates being wrong and doesn't appreciate being corrected (Even when he is wrong). Jacobs can be very cocky and overestimate an opponent, situation or even his own skills. Taking on tasks that are far too difficult for him alone, he can be very stubborn and will not admit when he needs help or even ask for it. Even with all this he keeps his head and always thinks about the objective and how to achieve it.
History: Jacobs had an ordinary childhood, nothing truly special. Brought up on military drills and weapon stripping he has known nothing but UNSC and the pride he would bring his family fighting for the UNSC. His family were quick to distrust the Elites joining humanities caused and this xenophobia rubbed off on Jacobs. Once he was of age he was shipped straight off to the nearest UNCS barracks to begin his training.
Fast forward several years and Jacobs found himself fighting an innumerable foe know as the flood and in charge of his own six man squad. Called the greatest threat to the galaxy Jacobs fully understood why. During one particular battle in which Jacobs and five other men had to protect and hold a comms array Jacobs finally saw the elite in a positive light. During the fighting Jacobs lost all of his men too the monstrous creatures with his back against the wall he saw his fellow soldiers rise up and turn on him. Seeing no way out he pulled the pin on a grenade and held it to what was left of his helmet.
Before he could finish himself the Elite reinforcements arrived in a rain of plasma fire. Throwing the grenade into the horde he watched as the Elite forces swept through the sea of flood systematically slaughtering this great threat. With the threat eliminated Jacobs thanked the Elites for their help. A few months later he was put forward for the Freelancer Project.
Weapon loadout:
MA2B Assault Rifle with built in bayonet.
M319 Individual Grenade Launcher.
M6H Pistol.
Combat Knife.
x3 Fragmentation Grenade.
x2 Flash Grenades Grenades.
Fighting Style: Jacobs fights up close and personal using his personalised Assault rifle mixed with his large variety of martial arts. |
308 | 5 | 1 | 2,335 | 389 | Maine listened carefully to the instructions, looking at his dark green freelancer suit. He had taking off the brush cover on it for a more sleek look, seeing as they would be doing training today. There was no shrubbery to really blend into. Cleaned his rifle, scanning through the other freelancers. They were the best of the best alright, some more than others, of all shapes and sizes. He didn't have to worry about taking them on it seems, just computed AI. They had an algorithm and a systematic way of doing things, but he didn't know how good these AI were. He would let the cannon fodder, or his teammates, sort that out.
As he got his armor enhancements, although disable, an AI was programmed into him as he saw a green figure materialize on his shoulder.
"Hello. I am Delta, your AI."
"Oh, so you can talk?" I think aloud in my head, looking at the hologram.
"Yes, I can talk Agent Maine. I am the AI designed for logic. I will be giving you combat feedback to make the best logical decisions on the battlefield to insure mission success and survivability."
"Oh. Sounds like my kind of AI. So, are you just going to be in my thoughts forever like this?"
"No, I am here for when you need me agent Maine, mostly in combat and any other critical situations. If you would like, I can also give advice."
"Alright, thanks Delta. Let's get into the training room and assess these bots. They say the leaderboard doesn't mean anything, but regardless it would probably be efficient to be near the top."
"That is a logical guess."
"So it's true?"
"I'm not sure, but I said it was a logical guess."
"Did they program you with sarcasm?"
"Not intentionally."
Maine set up near the back of the arena, laying down and adjusting his anti-material rifle as he scoped in to the robots. They seemed pretty resilient, and there would be 98 it seemed. From what Washington was telling us, head shots wouldn't kill them, so it looks like the upper chest would do the trick with the sniper. A useful bit of information. Once the battle begun, smoke grenades were dispatched right away as the robots charged forward under cover.
Maine looked through his scope, unable to see through the smoke as his tactical vision was disabled. "Now where are they..."
"The majority of the agents will most likely engage in CQC, maintaining focus of the AI. Since they relay information instantly, you will be able to shoot two rounds before your location is pinpointed. I would suggest moving position after your second shot and to repeat the process while the others hold the front line. If they invade the back line, use your smoke screen as cover and regroup as to not get surrounded." Delta announced, having Maine blink a few times.
"Wow, you are good." Maine said amazed, wondering where the heck they got these AI from.
"Focus on the targets making progress into the back lines and any other enemy snipers supporting from long range. I have calibrated your computer in your sniper into my system, and I'll calculate each shot automatically for you. When you do take your shot, I will increase your adrenaline and reflexes and slow down heart beat and breathing for a more precise shot."
"Affirmative." Maine whispered, slowly taking this all in. Although control over these aspects of his body and weapon were a little unnerving, the AI seemed to know what it was doing.
The smoke was clearing as a single AI seemed to try to burst from the initial line, vaulting and attempting to punch a fellow freelancer. It was almost too quick, but time seemed to slow down slightly as he was able to line up the shot and fire, like it was in slow motion, but he was moving at normal speed.
A burst from the rifle shot out, suppressed by the muzzle as the thin bullet whizzed through the air at lightning speed. It ripped clean through the robot, blowing a huge hole in it's chest with it's head falling off as it crumbled to the ground. The bullet even went through the robot, piercing one or two others through the arm and imbedding itself in the back of the arena.
A small smirk appeared on Maine's lips as he resumed in rifle, picking out another target. This was going to make sniping a whole lot more fun.
"So, you said I had one more shot left right?"
"Yes, I told you that earlier Agent Maine."
"Sigh... just, never mind." | Full name: James Lockhart "Iceman"
Code name: Maine
Gender: Male
Age: 23
Implanted A.I.: Delta - Logic - Green. Delta grants Iceman better reasoning skills, able to "slow down time" essentially in his head to make the most logical, optimal, and efficient choices. Side effects include lacking sympathy or empathy, logic taking over emotion.
Armour Ability: Tactical vision
Appearance:
Personality: James suits his A.I. well, as he is more of a man of logic and reasoning than anything else. He makes friendships because they are beneficial, not because he particularly enjoys people. It's not like he's a complete asshole or anything, but if you need something from him and it's not in his best interest and won't benefit him, he won't do it. He won't save you in a fight unless you're worth saving, but on the flip side he won't kill you unless he feels it's necessary. Granted this may make his morale scale a little out of whack, he's not some axe murderer either. He's cold, cunning, calculating, out for himself and only himself. And in battle, he always is level headed and has been known to think and be one step ahead. This is why he is the Iceman.
History: James never knew his parents, or any parents for that matter. His biological ones put him up for adoption because they were too poor, casting him out to an orphanage. It was in a rough city, so as you could imagine, bullying and the more than occasional beatings were in order. Food was spread thin, you had a room like a jail sell, and it was a miracle if somebody smuggled a toy in. In a world like this you only looked after yourself, and it was survival of the fittest every day. Kids did die in that place, and only the lucky ever got adopted. James wasn't so lucky. Instead, he made his own luck.
Through his life and going into his teen years, James would sneak out of the orphanage and steal from people and stores outside the city, getting whatever he could. Cards, toys, food and water, money, cigarettes. Anything of value. It took a while, and some close calls, but James got handy at climbing rooftops, sneaking down alleys, stealing, pick pocketing, conning. Running away and hiding. And occasionally getting beat up too. Shot once or twice. When he did get the items however, he bartered inside the orphanage, traded, gambled. Sometimes he would make alliances with other kids that would mutually benefit them. After playing the game for a while, James lived more comfortably than most, and was well known in and out of the orphanage. Then he turned 18.
Knowing that he barely had schooling and no money, the best option for him was to join the military. After passing the physical exams with flying colors, he was enlisted in the UNSC as a sniper. He was the top marksman in his class, and with a rifle he could shoot a dime off a clothespin. After many successful missions, he was promoted to ODST, where he would drop either in small squads for tactical missions or solo for recon and assassination missions.
The mission before he was recruited to a freelancer project, he was set on a mission leading a squad of four to do reconnaissance on a small outpost. It was a normal mission, and usually one of the less eventful ones, but the ODST was sent because there were rumors of the flood overtaking the now abandoned outpost. Well, it wasn't abandoned. After a sweep of the place, the squad was suddenly ambushed. Not by the flood however... it was the covenant. Five ships had surrounded the outpost and elites swarmed into the place. It was a trap. The group fled to loading dock to try to get to the ship before they were gunned down, except James refused to go with them and climbed up to the top of the rafters. He knew that the covenant would have already destroyed and looted their ship, and it was fruitless to try and get to it before hand. The squad had managed two fight through two ships worth, but full frontal assault on them was suicide. Watching his team die in front of him, he tried to figure a way out. After waiting several hours, he waited until the covenant were about to leave before making his move. After dispatching a few elite on one of the smaller ships, he piloted it in an attempt to escape. However, the other ships closed onto him, and he crash landed on an nearby planet with only minor injuries and fled the wreckage. Covenant ships touched down as the remaining crew was out for revenge. Holed up atop a cliff face outlooking the area, and with his rifle along with the rest of his gear, he managed to not only hold off the covenant, but killed them all, before taking one of their ships and fleeing safely. It wasn't an army by any means, there only being the two small ships worth of elites. It took a lot of stealth work, timing, planning, and chance... but it worked. Luck might have played a deciding role in this, but Iceman never believed in luck. He made his own.
This is when he joined the Freelancer project, where he was assigned the name of a state that was just cold enough for the Iceman. Maine.
Weapon Loadout: Model 99 Special Application Scoped Rifle, modified with a silencer, enhanced variable zoom, extended magazine, and a tri-pod.
DMR with a grip, stock, silencer, and selective fire for fully automatic, three round burst, or single shot. Modified to reduce recoil.
Black painted Bowie knife
2x frag grenades
2x smoke grenades
Fighting Style:
If you haven't already noticed from the bio, if you have read it or not, or simply looked at the weapons, you can tell Maine is particularly into long range engagements. He is quite confident in his sniping ability and he can handle most targets in that range, and likes to stay at that range. His field optics allow him to see mostly anything on the battlefield, even through walls (which his handy sniper can shoot through) as well as predict movements to more precisely hit his shots. A marksman through and through, he likes keeping his enemy at a distance. Bullets are very deadly and are good at killing people, hulk smashing somebody or going Bruce Lee on them is just stupid. He wants to be as far away as possible and shoot you before you even know he existed within a 5 km radius. However, this obviously isn't the case always. Overall he invests in a stealth first approach almost always, going into a situation with a plan and trying to outsmart and out strategize the opponent. If the engagement happens to get close, he resorts to the fully automatic DMR, and if too close and a built stealthier, the knife. In hand to hand combat he is average at best, as he doesn't do it a whole lot. However in this situation he would usually rely on cunning, such as getting the first blow in a sneak attack, somehow gaining an advantage, calculating the opponent's moves and looking for a clear cut opportunity. But through and through, in a fisticuffs match versus someone trained in hand to hand more than him or physically stronger than he, he is not going to be winning very easily. In fact, the best course of action against big scary people trying to, I don't know, stab him or beat him up might be running occasionally. Pick your battles, you know? |
309 | 5 | 2 | 904 | 2,988 | California stood off near the side of the group, arm folded as he listened to the Counsellor's and Director's instructions eagerly. Finally, the chance came to prove his strength and combat prowess within the Freelancer Program. Getting to smash up some tin cans sounded fun. As more and more of the details for the exercise were given, the wider and wider Arthur's grin got beneath his Soldier class helmet. Arthur looked around as he saw the other agents gear up after the instructions had ended. He turned to his weapons, which he gleefully picked up checking over his pride and joy, "The Answer" SAW variant. He had painted it himself, a skull with it's mouth open at the barrel, with the rest of it painted black with various slanderous terms and symbols. He did not give a fuck about censorship. It was then that his own AI made first contact with him.
"Hi!" An energetic female voice said.
"Yo!" Arthur replied in his head with equal amounts of enthusiasm. "You the AI thingy?"
"Yup! I'm combat ready, California!"
"Good! I don't know your name though. But you already know mine." He replied curiously.
"Oh! Silly me! I'm Chi. If the Director decides, I will be your permanent AI."
"Neat, never had a permanent voice in my head........ arguably...." He commented.
Once everyone was ready, the exercise began and the combat robots were released. The guy who seemed to had experience gave a pep talk or something before engaging the enemies. He seemed to be in a spot, so California decided to assist Washington. He strafed to the other freelancer's direction, spraying his explosive rounds into the smoke and crowd of robots.
"You're coming up on the agent, California! Another ally is providing sniper fire for the agent." Chi advised as she recognised that Arthur's focus was on attempting to empty his first clip of rounds. California acknowledged the callout, and gave a thumbs up to the apparently skilled sniper. Another robot dashed from the smoke, attempting to engage Arthur.
"Duck!" Chi called out in his head. Arthur complied, barely dodging a solid punch to the helmet. "Their head armour isn't as strong as the rest of them. Take it out!"
"Right!" He said. California spun about 180 degrees, before extending his arm out to clothesline the metal can, decapitating the head right through the neck.
"Keep attacking! Not down yet!"
Cali slammed the barrel of The Answer into the chest and completely buried the last five rounds of his drum magazine into the stomach of the robot. He shrugged away the scrap heap before looking at the other agent he originally set out to help, lifting him up by the shoulder. "You okay?" | Full name: Arthur Jones
Code name: California
Gender: Male
Age: 22
Implanted A.I.: Chi- Excitement= Increases adrenaline, reflexes and speed during combat situations. Causes the user to become more aggressive and charge head first into combat.
Armour Ability: Disruption
Personality: California has two sides. Out of combat, Arthur is a friendly face around the quarters, who greatly enjoys conversation and very hospitable to the other team members. However, on the field, California becomes a force of destruction, always looking for the "Scorched Earth" option, much preferring blasting his way through the front door than stealth operations. He greatly enjoys training in all physical manners, and loves to practice hand to hand combat, wanting to prove that he is the strongest without any kind of boosters. He loves to ensue chaos amongst the enemy ranks, sending them into disarray as he rips and tears through them. However, his greatest passion is vehicles. He is a vehicle specialist and can pilot almost anything from warthogs, scorpions to hornets too. However, if he can dispose of it, it is most likely that you will find him soaring into the enemy base, surfing a mongoose as he fires blindly into the enemies, roaring triumphantly.
History: The Bear used to be a mercenary, shooting for the highest bidder and asking questions later. He was captured by UNSC forces at 17 after a mission gone wrong, and his contractor hired him to steal from a UNSC supply depot. He was caught carrying out ammo cache's with one of his cohorts. After being arrested, the Bear was kept for a year before a deal was struck. Volunteer for the Freelancer Programme or be sentenced to death for crimes against the UNSC and carrying out mercenary military contracts. The choice was obvious.
Arthur accelerated at all physical exercises, especially strength focused ones. As boots on the grounds go, Arthur was one of the best. However, his reckless behaviour from being a mercenary carried through, and in simulations, heading straight first into danger was his only plan of attack, much like an ODST drop pod. Sooner or later, the idea of stealth and tactics (as well as a respect for authority) was hammered into him somewhat, and through that, he got pretty handy with a combat knife. He also became extremely proficient in heavy weaponry, learning the ins and outs of weapons like Spartan Lasers, chainguns, Hydra Lauchers, Railguns and his favourite, the SAW. However, while also in the training simulations, Arthur found a knack for vehicles, and outside of simulations he was also seen in the vehicle bays, looking over every intricate part. Right now, his pride and joy is the "Chariot Of Fire". A custom Rocket Hog that he is working on, wanting to make it the fastest, most destructive warthog out there.
California is now a true Spartan, and his recklessness only ever comes to play when his teammates are in danger. He will follow orders with maximum efficiency and brutality. When you need siege, demolition and pure strength to punch through, the Bear is your call.
Weapon Loadout: Advanced SAW with lower fire rate but projectiles have a proximity-fused high explosive warhead. Commonly known as "The Answer". Custom Paintjob. Secondary weapon is a Sentinel class DMR with sentinel sight and silencer. Also carries a combat knife for CQB and stealth skills. He also has two M9 grenades and selects breaching explosives accordingly for missions.
Fighting Style: "CHAAAAAAAAAAAARGE!!!"- California's fighting style leaves a lot to be desired in terms of finesse. His love of heavy duty equipment such as heavy weapons and vehicles ensures brutal punishment to the enemy, either relentlessly sieging from afar or tearing through a corridor with a spray of rounds from "The Answer." One thing Arthur isn't is quiet. Well, he prefers not to be. He is capable of stealth but it is not his go to method. In close combat, Arthur deploys a boxing/wrestling approach, involving a lot of heavy strikes and grapples. |
310 | 5 | 3 | 180 | 1,443 | Montana half heartily listened to the instructions. All he cared about was when they would be breaking some bones. He didn't have to wait long it seemed as they were told they were going up against some military robots. He sighed in his helmet, slightly dissappointed that they weren't real soldiers to test on but it was going to have to do.
One of the other recruits, Washington, came forward briefly giving information on the robots before all hell seemingly broke loose. He laughed at Washington shortly after he was sent flying by one of the bots.
"Come on you can't take a hit?" he said to his fallen comrade that in hindsight he would realize was stupid as one of the other units slammed their fist into his chest having him skid across the floor and hit one of the barriers.
"I take it back," he groaned out getting up and zeroing in on the bot that had hit him."All right lets see how many screws and bots hold you together." He brought his shotgun out and ran forward aiming for the head, he blew the bots head off. He focused his attention on another robot, trying the same thing but it dodged and swept him off his feet with its legs."Right they learn, got to remember that." He hit the ground with his fist in frustration as he got up living a slight dent in the ground ",Well I wanted a fight, guess I have one now." | Full name: Zeke
Code name: Montana
Gender: Male
Age: 31
Implanted A.I.: Omega - Increases hand to hand and weapon handling skill. Increases aggression in the user.
Armour Ability: Super Strength
Appearance (Armor):
Apperance (Out of Armor):
Still looking...
Personality: Zeke is a hard-ass type of guy, it doesn't necessarily means he doesn't have a sense of humor but most of the time he is straight to the point and doesn't sugar coat things. If things look bad, he is going to be the guy to admit that shit is about to hit the fan and not everyone is going to make it rather then try and be optimistic. Yet despite his hard nature, he enjoys poking his comrade's buttons and has a sense of humor that lies under the hard exterior, though whether or not that sense of humor is safe for his comrades is harder to answer, he has been known to let a live flash grenade loose in their rooms to see how fast they can scramble away from it before it goes off. He doesn't understand why he is the only one who finds it funny. XD
History: Hard to imagine a dropout could find his way to the freelancer program. He dropout of college sick and tired of the grind and joined the UNSC despite his parents protests, figuring he would want more out of life then being a 'dumb grunt' described by his father. He gave them the bird and out the door he went to start a new life as a soldier. It was no cakewalk though and at first Zeke barely scraped by to make it even into the army but he wanted to prove to everyone that he was more then just some dumb grunt and kept pushing himself, trying to be the best of the best. He was eventually moved over to work in an ODST unit, though his hopes of serving on Reach when the covenant attacked never came true, he still saw his fare share of battles within his unit where he soon got know for being a hardcase with his superiors. He got the job done for the most part but there were complaints of disobeying directives and reckless endangerment though no one was ever killed. Perhaps this was what eventually got the attention of those who ran the freelancer program. His dedication to get the job done by any means necessary would be considered a valuable assist to the program for those missions that were balls to the walls so to speak.
So now there he was a Freelancer, after ten years of working to show the people at home he was more then a grunt, he stood at the top with some of the best of the best, now he just tries to show he can be even better then them while playing the practical joke here and there that may or may not threaten the safety of those around him.
Weapon Loadout:
-M45D Tactical Shotgun aka "Scorn" as Zeke likes to call it, it's his pride and joy so to speak, been with him since day one and if anyone else besides him touches it, well they are going to see how hard he can hit before they can say 'sorry'.
-MA5D Individual Combat Weapon System
-M6H Personal Defense Weapon System
-x2 Frag
Fighting Style: Up close and personal. He's built like a tank, takes a licking but keeps on ticking so to speak. (He's like the Kool-Aid man but on steroids. XD) He doesn't use a knife though when he gets up close, instead he likes to duke it out with his fists when bullets just don't cut it.
Theme Song (because why the heck not):
Other: N/A |
311 | 5 | 4 | 1,703 | 721 | Washington's head was spinning inside his helmet. Picking himself off the ground he grabbed his rifle which had landed next to him. "That really hurt!" Checking his ammo count he dusted of his armour. "Let's rock and roll baby!"
Charging forward he let loose with a volley of bullets into his robotic enemies. Switching to his Sticky grenade launcher he fired it into the first robot he came across. It stuck to its torso, giving it no time to react he switched back to his rifle and stabbed it in the back and charged into a group of robots. One got a kick on him loosening his grip on the robot the blade in its back sliding out and sending him flying over a wall.
Pulling out the detonator he smiled. "Scrap metal it is then fellas." Pressing the detonator the stuck robot exploded. Due to the robots being so bunched the damage blew two into pieces the other two from the group that attacked him were missing an arm or head but were relatively undamaged. They replied to his attack by reaching for him from behind the wall and picking him up from the ground by the neck.
"Oh come on, you're even worse then the last time! Little help guys?!" | Name: Jacobs Huntington
Codename: Washington
Age: 27
Gender: Male
Armour Ability: Teleportation
Implanted A.I.: Epsilon - Increases awareness and heightened senses by increasing the amount of stimulus the brain can take. Epsilon yearns for knowledge and will cause his implanty to become more studious.
Appearance:
Personality: Jacobs is an optimistic guy who always sees the funny side of a dangerous situation. He hates being wrong and doesn't appreciate being corrected (Even when he is wrong). Jacobs can be very cocky and overestimate an opponent, situation or even his own skills. Taking on tasks that are far too difficult for him alone, he can be very stubborn and will not admit when he needs help or even ask for it. Even with all this he keeps his head and always thinks about the objective and how to achieve it.
History: Jacobs had an ordinary childhood, nothing truly special. Brought up on military drills and weapon stripping he has known nothing but UNSC and the pride he would bring his family fighting for the UNSC. His family were quick to distrust the Elites joining humanities caused and this xenophobia rubbed off on Jacobs. Once he was of age he was shipped straight off to the nearest UNCS barracks to begin his training.
Fast forward several years and Jacobs found himself fighting an innumerable foe know as the flood and in charge of his own six man squad. Called the greatest threat to the galaxy Jacobs fully understood why. During one particular battle in which Jacobs and five other men had to protect and hold a comms array Jacobs finally saw the elite in a positive light. During the fighting Jacobs lost all of his men too the monstrous creatures with his back against the wall he saw his fellow soldiers rise up and turn on him. Seeing no way out he pulled the pin on a grenade and held it to what was left of his helmet.
Before he could finish himself the Elite reinforcements arrived in a rain of plasma fire. Throwing the grenade into the horde he watched as the Elite forces swept through the sea of flood systematically slaughtering this great threat. With the threat eliminated Jacobs thanked the Elites for their help. A few months later he was put forward for the Freelancer Project.
Weapon loadout:
MA2B Assault Rifle with built in bayonet.
M319 Individual Grenade Launcher.
M6H Pistol.
Combat Knife.
x3 Fragmentation Grenade.
x2 Flash Grenades Grenades.
Fighting Style: Jacobs fights up close and personal using his personalised Assault rifle mixed with his large variety of martial arts. |
312 | 5 | 5 | 2,077 | 1,839 | Ohio was sitting on a bench half-heartedly polishing her helmet, she didn't need to listen to the instructions, she'd seen something like this many many times over. Problem was, she sucked at these little exercises, something about killing people and even aliens was just so much easier. Not to mention her HSR was pretty much useless against non-organic matter, she could effectively destroy their comms and radio-wave broadcasting, which eliminated most machinery without on-board AI, but they had no brains to liquefy. Liquefy being the wrong word but it was pretty damn close and Ohio wasn't particularly interested in how it worked.
Ohio frowned slightly as her AI projected itself on her shoulder, Gamma, she didn't like him much and even though he was just a computer code she felt the feeling was mutual. That aside they were a good match, they were probably chosen because the director knew they wouldn't get along great. Gamma was a liar and a traitor with a lot of potential to harm, most people wouldn't be able to see that especially because Gamma was still so young and had exhibited so little of his 'personality.' It really took one to know one. Ohio also had the so called 'advantage' of having had her AI implanted a few days earlier than most, with some not even having any AI yet at all. She suspected that had to do with her AI's ability, a kind of time loop that let her try again and again until she got it right. Or in a recent case, until she survived. Since her AI would automatically start a loop if she was fatally injured. Ohio was pretty sure what she'd been through was the reason things are only supposed to die once. It was really the stuff of nightmares, as horrible as it had been at least she wasn't dealing with it for the first time now. Aside from that it really ruined the idea of organized religion for her because if she had been experiencing actual death, then they were all totally hilariously wrong.
"Agent Ohio, we are starting a training mission soon are you ready?" His voice was like those really old robotic ones, before they figured out how to make them work better. Choppy, stiff, emotionless.
"Do I look ready?" She chuckled, putting her helmet on and sealing it.
"I have complete confidence in you. The chances of fatality are designed to be very low, no death-loops."
"Gamma, don't lie to me, we just met. You trust me as far as you can throw me, and you're literally a hologram so that puts us at square 0. Or like negative one. It's totally fair, I was kind of a dick yesterday. Dying a bunch just puts me in a bad mood." She sighed and began to check over her hand guns. The others were beginning to move out.
"Yes that was rather apparent after the string of expletives you directed at the administrators."
"If they try that again without telling me, and I won't do it in a time loop. It will be 100 percent organic, gluten-free murder." Ohio muttered as she carefully watched her new team mates getting to work.
"Agent Ohio, excuse my directness, but now you are the one lying. Also murder is not a food so it can't have or be free of gluten." His blue form flickering, just at choppy as his voice
Ohio rolled her eyes, "Ok, yes but its a revenge fantasy. Humans love them, have them all the time and if they tell you they don't they're a damn liar. Everyone has wanted to get back at someone at some point, the world isn't full of Gandhis and Martin Luther Kings, its a lot of normal people with a lot of normal flaws. Just ignore the gluten bit, I don't think you're going to get the joke." She was standing now, looking for her entrance into the fight.
"I'm sorry I don't know who either of those people are but am I correct to assume they are morally superior to the average human?"
"Really? You guys didn't get a basic history lesson from before the war? Yeah sure morally superior or whatever, Christ if you were human you would have thought that sounded cool but now its just weird." Her eyes were locking on to specific target zones, "You know what forget it, I don't have time to teach you 20th century history right now." Gamma nodded and flickered out of sight. With that she was darting on her way to help Washington who already had a robot half strangling him.
Ohio carefully made her way through the robot carnage. Carefully in the sense that she was booking it as fast as she could while avoiding getting hit by one of the robots. She charged at the robot from behind, wrapping her arm around its neck in a tight hold while keeping her other hand free for a knife.
"Ok so Wash, can I call you wash? You know what I'm going to call you Wash and you'd better not have a problem with it because I'm trying to help your ass. Anyway, listen, big guy over there," She gestured with the knife at California, "has the right idea, you gotta go for the head but if you're like me, or you for that matter, and aren't a human bear you can't exactly crush their heads with your bare hands." She shouted over the explosions and thrashing of the robot, trying to get her to let go.
"See what people like us do Wash, is we improvise." She grinned as she plunged her knife between a small gap in the armor plates of the neck. "The interesting thing is that we humans tend to make things that are like humans, that's the self-obsessed way we are. So a lot of these vital wires are in the neck, like a human's spinal cord. Which means all you have to do is get the knife in here and shake it around a bit." She demonstrated by violently twisting and moving the knife in a kind of back and forth pattern. Some smoke and a few sparks came from the area her knife had sunk into but the robot was already letting Go of Washington as well as beginning to spasm uncontrollably. Ohio let go and gave the robot a hard shove to the ground.
"Sadly it's not totally dead cause its equivalent of a brain is still there but I've severed its ability to control it's limbs and most functions below the neck. Now it just sort of flops around like a fish. It's kind of sad actually." She said, cocking her head and watching the robot. This moment of lapse however almost cost her as she barely dodged a punch that cracked the wall she was standing in front of. "Well points for enthusiasm on that one." She said with a short laugh before trying to repeat the process she had used on the last one, with a bit more difficulty as this robot was not already attacking someone else and was able to try much harder to throw her off. | Full name: Elizabeth Fenster
Code name: Ohio
Gender: Female
Age: 28
Implanted A.I.: Gamma
Armour Ability: Chameleon Armour
Appearance:
Armor:
Without Armor:
Elizabeth stands at just over 5 feet 6 inches and for her size has considerable strength, her build reflects this. Her hair is tied up in a tight bun when training or in the field.
Personality: Like Elizabeth's armor, she is a social chameleon, changing to create her desired social dynamic. Despite her tendency to alter her behavior she is generally very confident and opinionated, she loves a good argument but tends to distort facts or change them completely. How far her lies go depends on how much she thinks she can get away with in a given situation. She indiscriminately uses people as tools, with no distinction or protection from this for familial or romantic relationships. However she is by no means ruthless about any of her maneuvers, she will use anyone but she also can enjoy their company for reasons other than their usefulness. In fact, Elizabeth is critical of that aspect of people like her, they tend to throw away or abuse anyone who isn't contributing to their ulterior motive. She sees this as narrow minded and needless limiting of her tool set, her preference to maintain a status of being well liked also turns her away from acting like others of a more manipulative personality. Like her IA Elizabeth is quite the liar and only tells the truth when it suits her, she's never failed a polygraph test (even though those are bogus) and its truly impossible to tell what she really believes and whether she is lying. She has this ability to sound completely convinced in what she is saying and is quite persuasive on top of that. Ironically, she likes to build a reputation of being honest, calling a bad situation like it is, not being afraid to stand up for whatever her current values are, giving her 'honest' opinion, this generally establishes her as a resource of honesty which she pairs with painting everyone and everything else as untrustworthy. In tandem these techniques usually give her a reasonable amount of manipulative control on others.
History: Elizabeth was actually born in an affluent family, the kind that sends their kids to college to be doctors or lawyers and live long, safe, boringly wealthy lives. War be damned, this family was going to look out for itself. Elizabeth was to be no exception, attending a prestigious school with plans to enter politics. She even had internships lined up where she would be working rather high up in the Unified Earth Government, the people there saw a bright future for her. A vision she once shared but in her junior year of college, this changed. Suddenly, and to many she knew, without reason she needed to leave it all behind. Only an idiot would assume there was really no reason but whatever happened or whatever she had seen wasn't leaving her lips without a fight. Her parents were rather distraught but she did not notice this as she did not ever ask or listen to their opinion, this was the theme with most people who approached her about her choice. Something had changed and those people could feel it but they couldn't place it, she acted the same, she wasn't angry or upset but she was still different.
These connections she had made though did not go completely to waste, she managed to get herself into special ops training right off the bat. As a young girl with no formal military training, those she had persuaded to get her placed did not expect things to go well, they expected her to either give up and come back or settle for something easier. Elizabeth did neither, and though the combat did come slower to her, she was much better than many had even thought she would be at theory and stealth. Over time it became clear her combat skills were decent but her prowess was in her espionage skills. Many of her special ops deployments were to investigate corruption or other allegations in a clandestine manner. A job many would abhor, the idea of ratting out fellow service members, did not bother Elizabeth at all. Her role expanded to be that of an assassin, specifically one who could infiltrate a following, eliminate the target, and supplant leadership, in order to hand over control of the situation to the UNSC. Elizabeth has seen little conflict in the actual war and her battles have been waged against other humans, a fact she is aware of and as such keeps her past role under wraps. She also keeps these secrets because many of these operations never existed and if they were to exist it would be due to her acting as free agent and not in any relation to or under orders by the UNSC. It was recently suggested to her that her talents would be useful in the Freelancer Project, she agreed and was swiftly placed into the program. To her colleges she's created the image of a gifted recon agent and guerilla fighter but there are cracks and she figures its only a matter of time that someone figures out what she really does, if they haven't already. After all she's not the smartest person there but she's the best liar.
Weapon Loadout:
- (x2) M6C Handgun with 2 extra clips
- (x2) Standard Combat Knife
- 2 smoke grenades
- Hard Sound Rifle (because she loves bees)
Fighting Style: Elizabeth openly lets others fight her battles, she not the strongest and she's not the biggest but she does what she can. She tends to go for guerilla tactics. Her marksmanship is good but shes no prodigy, and she often has to make her hand to hand opponents tire themselves out because she can not physically overpower them. She is extremely patient and will wait as long as she has to for her perfect shot, even if that shot is actually a stab. |
313 | 5 | 6 | 2,335 | 389 | So, it seemed a lot of idiots were running around the battlefield. Freelancers were throwing grenades, shooting people, getting pelted by non-lethal bullets and being thrown around like rag dolls. Maine couldn't help them all out, but it wasn't life or death either. Besides, this was mainly about him showing off his skills.
Another shot ripped through a line of robots, taking apart at least three as the high velocity bullet ripped through them like butter, after carefully calculating the shot of course. Knowing it wasn't safe to stay there any longer, Maine picked up his rifle, stood up and starting sprinting to a new position.
"There seems to be a scuffle between your Freelancer Allies, 10 o'clock. It looks like they might want some sniper cover." Delta spoke, pointing over to where Ohio, California, and Washington were.
"Alright, I guess saving allies might score me points. Or at least brownie points with the others. Where's a safe place to set up where I can get a good angle?" Maine thought in his head, diving behind a barrier.
"20 meters to your right, you can lay down next to that wall there and get a good aerial view of the situation. It should provide decent cover as well."
Making sure the coast was clear, main jogged over to the spot, laying down prone with his tripod out as he settled into position. Breathing slowly out, Delta adjusted the computer on his sniper as Maine looked through the scope. It seemed Washington was picked up by a robot, before Ohio jumped on it's back and jammed a knife to it's throat. Now a robot was on her, a punch barely missing her.
Maine held his breath, his finger resting on the trigger as the reticule lined up dead center to the thing's chest. Right as he saw this, he noticed out of the corner of his scope that a robot was holding a grenade near California and Washington, looking to chuck it there way. He would have to make a decision... or would he?
He felt his heart rate slow, only the sound of his heartbeat was audible to him as he let a slow breath out. His finger hit the trigger, a bullet leaving the barrel aimed at the chest of the robot in front of Ohio. About a few milliseconds later, the reticule was moved and the computer adjusted by Delta as a second bullet ripped through the air.
Almost immediately after, the first bullet cut clean through the robot's chest, blowing it apart with it's head flying to the side as what was left of it dropped in a heap. A split second after a billet sailed narrowly past Washington and California, going through the grenade that the second robot was going to throw. It exploded in it's face, blowing off it's head, it's arm, and part of it's body as it got propelled backwards and on it's ass.
"Nice job Delta." He smirked, smoke curling from the silencer of the semi-automatic sniper as Delta turned around on his shoulder.
"Incoming." Was all he heard before he felt himself get picked up by his back, being hurled across the stadium and through a wall, his rifle spilling out of his hands a few feet away from him. He groaned, grabbing his head.
"Ouch... why didn't you say anything?"
"I said incoming."
"Yeah, right before he threw me through a wall."
"I am not physically capable of stopping that from happening, agent Maine."
"So I noticed..." Maine groaned, coughing as he slowly got up, the robot slowly marching towards him like a bad terminator movie. | Full name: James Lockhart "Iceman"
Code name: Maine
Gender: Male
Age: 23
Implanted A.I.: Delta - Logic - Green. Delta grants Iceman better reasoning skills, able to "slow down time" essentially in his head to make the most logical, optimal, and efficient choices. Side effects include lacking sympathy or empathy, logic taking over emotion.
Armour Ability: Tactical vision
Appearance:
Personality: James suits his A.I. well, as he is more of a man of logic and reasoning than anything else. He makes friendships because they are beneficial, not because he particularly enjoys people. It's not like he's a complete asshole or anything, but if you need something from him and it's not in his best interest and won't benefit him, he won't do it. He won't save you in a fight unless you're worth saving, but on the flip side he won't kill you unless he feels it's necessary. Granted this may make his morale scale a little out of whack, he's not some axe murderer either. He's cold, cunning, calculating, out for himself and only himself. And in battle, he always is level headed and has been known to think and be one step ahead. This is why he is the Iceman.
History: James never knew his parents, or any parents for that matter. His biological ones put him up for adoption because they were too poor, casting him out to an orphanage. It was in a rough city, so as you could imagine, bullying and the more than occasional beatings were in order. Food was spread thin, you had a room like a jail sell, and it was a miracle if somebody smuggled a toy in. In a world like this you only looked after yourself, and it was survival of the fittest every day. Kids did die in that place, and only the lucky ever got adopted. James wasn't so lucky. Instead, he made his own luck.
Through his life and going into his teen years, James would sneak out of the orphanage and steal from people and stores outside the city, getting whatever he could. Cards, toys, food and water, money, cigarettes. Anything of value. It took a while, and some close calls, but James got handy at climbing rooftops, sneaking down alleys, stealing, pick pocketing, conning. Running away and hiding. And occasionally getting beat up too. Shot once or twice. When he did get the items however, he bartered inside the orphanage, traded, gambled. Sometimes he would make alliances with other kids that would mutually benefit them. After playing the game for a while, James lived more comfortably than most, and was well known in and out of the orphanage. Then he turned 18.
Knowing that he barely had schooling and no money, the best option for him was to join the military. After passing the physical exams with flying colors, he was enlisted in the UNSC as a sniper. He was the top marksman in his class, and with a rifle he could shoot a dime off a clothespin. After many successful missions, he was promoted to ODST, where he would drop either in small squads for tactical missions or solo for recon and assassination missions.
The mission before he was recruited to a freelancer project, he was set on a mission leading a squad of four to do reconnaissance on a small outpost. It was a normal mission, and usually one of the less eventful ones, but the ODST was sent because there were rumors of the flood overtaking the now abandoned outpost. Well, it wasn't abandoned. After a sweep of the place, the squad was suddenly ambushed. Not by the flood however... it was the covenant. Five ships had surrounded the outpost and elites swarmed into the place. It was a trap. The group fled to loading dock to try to get to the ship before they were gunned down, except James refused to go with them and climbed up to the top of the rafters. He knew that the covenant would have already destroyed and looted their ship, and it was fruitless to try and get to it before hand. The squad had managed two fight through two ships worth, but full frontal assault on them was suicide. Watching his team die in front of him, he tried to figure a way out. After waiting several hours, he waited until the covenant were about to leave before making his move. After dispatching a few elite on one of the smaller ships, he piloted it in an attempt to escape. However, the other ships closed onto him, and he crash landed on an nearby planet with only minor injuries and fled the wreckage. Covenant ships touched down as the remaining crew was out for revenge. Holed up atop a cliff face outlooking the area, and with his rifle along with the rest of his gear, he managed to not only hold off the covenant, but killed them all, before taking one of their ships and fleeing safely. It wasn't an army by any means, there only being the two small ships worth of elites. It took a lot of stealth work, timing, planning, and chance... but it worked. Luck might have played a deciding role in this, but Iceman never believed in luck. He made his own.
This is when he joined the Freelancer project, where he was assigned the name of a state that was just cold enough for the Iceman. Maine.
Weapon Loadout: Model 99 Special Application Scoped Rifle, modified with a silencer, enhanced variable zoom, extended magazine, and a tri-pod.
DMR with a grip, stock, silencer, and selective fire for fully automatic, three round burst, or single shot. Modified to reduce recoil.
Black painted Bowie knife
2x frag grenades
2x smoke grenades
Fighting Style:
If you haven't already noticed from the bio, if you have read it or not, or simply looked at the weapons, you can tell Maine is particularly into long range engagements. He is quite confident in his sniping ability and he can handle most targets in that range, and likes to stay at that range. His field optics allow him to see mostly anything on the battlefield, even through walls (which his handy sniper can shoot through) as well as predict movements to more precisely hit his shots. A marksman through and through, he likes keeping his enemy at a distance. Bullets are very deadly and are good at killing people, hulk smashing somebody or going Bruce Lee on them is just stupid. He wants to be as far away as possible and shoot you before you even know he existed within a 5 km radius. However, this obviously isn't the case always. Overall he invests in a stealth first approach almost always, going into a situation with a plan and trying to outsmart and out strategize the opponent. If the engagement happens to get close, he resorts to the fully automatic DMR, and if too close and a built stealthier, the knife. In hand to hand combat he is average at best, as he doesn't do it a whole lot. However in this situation he would usually rely on cunning, such as getting the first blow in a sneak attack, somehow gaining an advantage, calculating the opponent's moves and looking for a clear cut opportunity. But through and through, in a fisticuffs match versus someone trained in hand to hand more than him or physically stronger than he, he is not going to be winning very easily. In fact, the best course of action against big scary people trying to, I don't know, stab him or beat him up might be running occasionally. Pick your battles, you know? |
314 | 5 | 7 | 904 | 2,988 | California smirked at Ohio's , quite frankly, flattering comments. "Heh, maybe I should try that..." He replied to the white armoured woman. He didn't have time for sneaking about and worrying about trying to be noticed. In his previous line of work as a Merc, plans that involved staying quiet ALWAYS went wrong, so why bother in the first place?
"If you're gearing up to fight, gear up right."
That was the motto he was taught by his old commander. However, those days were behind him... and the ideas of stealth being useful did get into his stubborn head... somewhat. Back into the fight, Arthur began to reload his SAW, leaving the empty magazine to clatter on the ground before sliding in and securing the second clip of rounds. It was then when Ohio re-engaged with another enemy. She can take care of herself.
"California! More enemies on the right! Also... that sniper just went real far, real quick..." Chi chirped into his ear.
Shit... tangoes approaching and another freelancer just got knocked on his ass. California had to think quick. And the idea he got had to be put into place... but it was really fucking stupid too... California shrugged and decided to roll with it. He holstered his gun and pulled out his grenades, one in each hand. "Guys... cover me..." He said to Washington and Ohio. California sprinted off into the group as fast as he could, barrelling into the small crowd of robots. He bowled some over, and desperately fended off the couple still standing as he unpinned his grenades and dropped them into the crowd. Still making progress, Cali stepped away with only one grabbing onto his forearm. The Spartan grabbed the robots arm and swung them both away from the blast radius, performing what is technically called an "Irish Whip" as he sent the robot tumbling into a nearby wall.
He used this created opportunity to get away from the dropped grenades, set to go off at any moment. California grabbed the rifle belonging to Maine and used the end of it to bludgeon the robot walking towards the groggy Agent. California tossed the sniper back to him. "Here!" He shouted. The robot was not fazed at all, and landed a swift kick into the Bear's back, sending him reeling away. "Fuck!" He yelled as he got spun into the direction of another combat robot, who used the opportunity to uppercut Arthur on the chin. "Shit!" He said again as he got effectively pinballed between the two. He regained his balance and looked over his shoulder as he jutted his elbow out into the chest of the previous robot, turning around and delivering a textbook right hook into the robot's temple. However, the other robot wrapped it's metallic arms around Arthur's waist, who tossed him into the wall Maine just got tossed into.
"Bastard! Fuck!" He cursed again. | Full name: Arthur Jones
Code name: California
Gender: Male
Age: 22
Implanted A.I.: Chi- Excitement= Increases adrenaline, reflexes and speed during combat situations. Causes the user to become more aggressive and charge head first into combat.
Armour Ability: Disruption
Personality: California has two sides. Out of combat, Arthur is a friendly face around the quarters, who greatly enjoys conversation and very hospitable to the other team members. However, on the field, California becomes a force of destruction, always looking for the "Scorched Earth" option, much preferring blasting his way through the front door than stealth operations. He greatly enjoys training in all physical manners, and loves to practice hand to hand combat, wanting to prove that he is the strongest without any kind of boosters. He loves to ensue chaos amongst the enemy ranks, sending them into disarray as he rips and tears through them. However, his greatest passion is vehicles. He is a vehicle specialist and can pilot almost anything from warthogs, scorpions to hornets too. However, if he can dispose of it, it is most likely that you will find him soaring into the enemy base, surfing a mongoose as he fires blindly into the enemies, roaring triumphantly.
History: The Bear used to be a mercenary, shooting for the highest bidder and asking questions later. He was captured by UNSC forces at 17 after a mission gone wrong, and his contractor hired him to steal from a UNSC supply depot. He was caught carrying out ammo cache's with one of his cohorts. After being arrested, the Bear was kept for a year before a deal was struck. Volunteer for the Freelancer Programme or be sentenced to death for crimes against the UNSC and carrying out mercenary military contracts. The choice was obvious.
Arthur accelerated at all physical exercises, especially strength focused ones. As boots on the grounds go, Arthur was one of the best. However, his reckless behaviour from being a mercenary carried through, and in simulations, heading straight first into danger was his only plan of attack, much like an ODST drop pod. Sooner or later, the idea of stealth and tactics (as well as a respect for authority) was hammered into him somewhat, and through that, he got pretty handy with a combat knife. He also became extremely proficient in heavy weaponry, learning the ins and outs of weapons like Spartan Lasers, chainguns, Hydra Lauchers, Railguns and his favourite, the SAW. However, while also in the training simulations, Arthur found a knack for vehicles, and outside of simulations he was also seen in the vehicle bays, looking over every intricate part. Right now, his pride and joy is the "Chariot Of Fire". A custom Rocket Hog that he is working on, wanting to make it the fastest, most destructive warthog out there.
California is now a true Spartan, and his recklessness only ever comes to play when his teammates are in danger. He will follow orders with maximum efficiency and brutality. When you need siege, demolition and pure strength to punch through, the Bear is your call.
Weapon Loadout: Advanced SAW with lower fire rate but projectiles have a proximity-fused high explosive warhead. Commonly known as "The Answer". Custom Paintjob. Secondary weapon is a Sentinel class DMR with sentinel sight and silencer. Also carries a combat knife for CQB and stealth skills. He also has two M9 grenades and selects breaching explosives accordingly for missions.
Fighting Style: "CHAAAAAAAAAAAARGE!!!"- California's fighting style leaves a lot to be desired in terms of finesse. His love of heavy duty equipment such as heavy weapons and vehicles ensures brutal punishment to the enemy, either relentlessly sieging from afar or tearing through a corridor with a spray of rounds from "The Answer." One thing Arthur isn't is quiet. Well, he prefers not to be. He is capable of stealth but it is not his go to method. In close combat, Arthur deploys a boxing/wrestling approach, involving a lot of heavy strikes and grapples. |
315 | 5 | 8 | 1,363 | 2,427 | >Location: UNSC Outpost Theta, Arcadia
>Involvement file: United Rebel Frontier
>Two Months ago...
The group moved in synchronisation, one behind the other like a conga-line...If a conga line was armed with heavily loaded weaponry and explosives. One by one, they moved to their destination, a doorway locked between the inside and the downpour that spread on the outside. Yet, Grant wasn't among their ranks, as for one. He was placed elsewhere, with a view quite remarkable. Masked mostly by the rainfall and the darkness of the night, he gripped his Designated Marksman Rifle, blankly keeping a straight face when staring at the sights of both his and his comrades' successful takedowns. A pitter-patter of downpour tricked and mixed between a blood-stained concrete floor, creating a red, oozing solution against the walls. Once they were inside, Grant would have to depart, having no use inside with his weapon.
He could see them, moving step by step and rippling the puddles with each additional pace. Remarkable to see how they'd come so far, his brothers, sisters and comrades. When he grew up within the Insurgents, they were little-more than small time fighters, barely surviving the encounters they got into. But now, they were trained, armed and fitted out with appropriate weapons to even kill a Spartan if used correctly. They were growing in size, becoming an issue for the UNSC and other insurgent groups. That was their goal, to cause themselves to be noticed. It was so they could shift the focus of the UNSC occupation forces to those civilians in need, which were receiving little to none. And now the-
A sound fractured his thoughts. It sounded like heavy boots, from directly behind him. Grant was already laying down on his front, soaking up his combat vest into the watery walls of the UNSC FOB. He could hear boots coming closer, as he rolled onto his back quickly, DMR facing towards the sound. Yet, before he could react and pull the trigger, a sight of shock came to him...In the form of a Shock Trooper...A Orbital Drop Shock Trooper...A squad of or-...You get the fucking point.
Four of them, encircled around him, all with guns aimed at his chest. Now, everything seemed to stand still. The rain continued to splatter against the helmets of the ODST specialists, as well as the Rebel attire of Grant, but not one uttered a word. At least for the moment in time. They all stared at each other, blankly through visors and heads up displays, before eventually Grant broke the moment of silence and awkwardness.
"Hey guys...I think I saw the Rebels go that way." He couldn't help but grin underneath his own visor, but the ODST didn't see the funny side of it, one of the central soldiers placing their heavy boot against his chest to keep him on the floor, the other leg kicking away the DMR in his hand. The silence retained for a small while longer, and yet it remained awkward and painful for the rebel on the floor. His voice coughed and gargled under the weight of the ODST specialist. Grant's hand slowly made way for his boot-knife, ironically not located in his boot. No one would suspect it, would they? "Hey...Hey...I can get you court-marshalled for that...Or I could..."
Without warning, he brought his blade up quickly, injecting it into a gap between the ODST specialist's armour, on the leg that was pressed against his chest. The man, as identifiable by his voice, stumbled backwards limping away before Grant had a chance to regain control of his knife. Before he could react, putting on an action-hero style beat-down on the ODST soldiers, the butt of a firearm smacked into his face, driving him into a cold and dark abyss known as being unconscious...
>Location: UNSC Chain, Mobile/Orbital Detention Centre
>One month ago...
"Ahh...Bloody porridge inside the prison? Can we please hire someone who didn't drop out of cooking school to make us meals?" Grant called from his cell. The charred bowl he held in his hands reeked of disappointment and failure whilst a gloopy substance someone categorised with food begged to be indulged. It was a sad time. Here, he could be, roaming free in a field with butterflies and rainbows, when instead he was sitting in what was the equivalent to the testicle-sweat of the UNSC Fleet.
There used to be a room-mate for Grant, but he was either released or moved to another cell for the rebel apparently making jokes about rape...Who knew that his jokes sounded like legitimate threats to other prisoners? Grant wasn't the strongest lad in the block, nor the prison at all. He was like the scrawny guy who gets by slipping between the big lads and hitting them from behind. But in all honesty, Grant did not like fighting in the prison at all. It felt wrong, much like what half of his insurgent actions were like to himself. And now, he was sitting in an orbital prison, without even a window view of the world outside.
Could you really call it outside? It was more of an emptiness right? The vacuum of space being some sort of...Y'know what, this was getting far too deep and annoying for someone of the likes of Grant. Sure, he was an extremely intelligent lad, but Grant wasn't known for sitting on his arse and thinking too much. He was more of a reactions-kinda guy? Or something like that. Usually distance was his ally in combat, but he wasn't going to be seeing anymore of that in a while.
Until the gate to his own cell opened, and two guards, accompanying a smartly dressed man, looked at him. They were silent at first, staring at the peculiar man. He did not look anything like the other people in the prison cells. He was tall, skinnier, though not lean, and very well presented, save for a small stubble and ruffled hair. The two met eyes, in a non-romantic way, and shared thoughts, both questioning one another inside another.
"Hello, Grant...I'd like to share a proposition for you..."
>Location: Freelancer Facility
>Present day...
The fighting had commenced, and immediately, Grant dove for cover at the furthest distance he could gain. It was time for a little surveying. He brandished his new armour, with his new alias, and his shiny new weaponry. Holstered onto his back, a M6C and M6MP, both kitted with custom wrist grips, remained on guard for use. His hands held a very modified DMR, with the ability to praise attachment modification and ammo types. He scanned the battlefield ahead, despite it being a scenario.
It was littered with moving bodies. Both attacking the bots and being thrown about like children's toys. It was humorous, to say the least, but he knew that he'd be in the same situation if he did not think this through. He noticed the bots all fighting differently, depending on who they fought. Turns out they had similar thoughts, or programming in this case, as to Iowa. He knew what they were doing, though. Adapting to the similar military or brute force tactics. Well, to combat someone who learns your strategies, you'd have to keep changing your own one. Iowa was blessed to know he could deal some damage with this in mind.
Before he began to raise up to new heights, a voice called out in his helmet, causing him to jump and almost lose his balance from where he stood statically. It came as a surprise to him, definitely.
"Agent Iowa, that location is already occupied. However, there are many other points to gain a marksmanship position from." He looked around him, checking it wasn't just another voice near him. But Iowa knew this sounded differently, much like the...It was the artificial intelligence that he was promised back at the Prison and through his beginning days as a Freelancer. And now, he was fighting alongside all of these other individuals, all with their own additions and AIs to put to use. "Your silence is not comforting, Agent Iowa. Allow me to stimulate your senses, perhaps now you won't be so hesitant."
"Bah, I am not prepared for a voice in my head..." Iowa called to himself. He had to admit, the UNSC had some really interesting gear to play around with. He wished he stuck around stealing their stuff more often to get this for his friends of the past. "Alright...Alright...So I just got...A weird feeling...But I guess I know what you mean...Lemme just study them for a sec'."
Iowa's eyes darted between the areas of the training zone, looking between the robots to see weaknesses. It seemed that they were vulnerable to heavy, continuous punishment, as well as single, hard-hitting rounds from large weapons. But he didn't have large weaponry. However, the first, he did have access to rapid fire. He upholstered his M6MP, and quickly snapped on the wrist guard. It tightened itself around his armour, remaining in his hands. Wonderful fit, and wonderful trigger size. It fitted like a glove...A glove that was filled with dangerous projectiles...
He threw himself over the wall he hid behind, moving around carefully to find a singled out robot. It was easy to start from the rim and make his way inside where the heavy resistance would be. And just as his luck, the AI in his mind spotted it.
"I forgot to add...My name is Sigma, your advanced AI assigned to you specifically by the Director. I like long walks on the beach and country music..."
"Woah woah woah...Introductions later, blippy...And please tell me you were joking about the last one..." His AI responded quickly, as Sigma gave him a gentle shock.
"I was programmed to understand humour, quite significantly. Apparently it would suit your level of socialising, if your reports show up clear enough."
"Great...You have access to my reports..." He began to take strides forward, running towards the larger bot ahead of him. It had a small gap underneath its raised legs, as he slid down onto his knees, holding down the trigger on his weapon as he aimed it skywards. The bullets sprayed into the underside, before he halted on the opposite side of the bot. From here, he began unloading at the head of the bot, providing heavy and repetitive punishment until both he had to reload and the bot gave in to the pressure. Luckily, both happened at the same time. "Aha! Looks like your programme was just...Delete-"
Before he could finish his terrible excuse for a joke, a fist smacked him in the side, sending him sliding along the floor towards a group of other Freelancers. During his epiphany of sliding amongst the unclear floor of nuts and bolts, he came to realise that this was instant karma for the crimes he had made for the laws of humour and decent comedy...Eventually, he came to a stop when he swiped one of the Freelancer's off of their feet in a collision. | Agent Iowa
Full name
Grant McGregory
Codename
Iowa
Gender
Male
Age
27
Implanted A.I.
Sigma
Increases the user’s general abilities allows the user to mentally map out and simulate battle plans. Causes the user to be more cunning, manipulative and more creative.
Armour Ability
Jet-Suit
Appearance
Personality
Whereas Grant hasn't been on the more optimistic side of life, he surely faces the realism of it. However, he enjoys sugar-coating his troubles with a sense of witty remarks and comedic, creative Operation methods. There aren't many times were Grant has seen a large, substantial amount of pride in his actions, but the odd here and there he'll celebrate whatever he finds amusing, witty or downright useful towards the given objective. Being more of a team-spirit kind of individual, due to his fighting styles, he's prone to depending heavily on other Agents on field, meaning solo operations or engagements can sometimes put a small deal of pressure and tension on him. Unfortunately, that also is a reason for him to get far too close to other members of his Unit, which isn't always ideal in Project Freelancer. Yet, within Project Freelancer, Grant has become more acceptable with killing other insurgents and targets than he would've done in his past.
Background
During the Great-War, Grant was brought up into a different style of life. Instead of fighting the Covenant or any other major threats, he made a living growing up within a Small Insurgent Cell that jumped between systems in order to sustain themselves. Though it does not provide the same military, extensive training, it features experience and training on the battlefield from small-scale firefights and sieges. Having started the arts of guerrilla warfare and unconventional combat tactics at a young age, he developed his way up towards the more important tasks his family and group had to offer.
Within this Cell, Grant had gotten enough experience to learn that even in humanity's desperate times, they were still keen on killing one another in the background, having caused him to be involved in their acts originally. They didn't plan on making a massive difference, but they wanted to get their message across about humanity's violence and segregation between one another. The only way to know how to do that was to devise plans that only the UNSC would be familiar with, violence. It was contradictory, yes...But it worked out. For a while, at least.
During recent months, an Operation to gather UNSC data in the hopes to convince them to pay attention to their demands and cries for help, which had been ignored for so long that the group had resorted to minor insurgency. Now, Grant was a difficult one to tackle. He completely supported the UNSC in their struggles against the Great War's threats, but he was in disagreement with their attention paid to the poorer colonies. Because of this conflict in compassion, when settled as a designated marksman for the Operation, he found himself only shooting the legs of targeted UNSC Personnel. However, this non-lethal decision had left him exposed to discovery, and a major conflict broke out during one of their objectives. Grant was lucky enough to engage in CQC well enough to eliminate two pursers, but could not prevent the force of the UNSC from catching up quickly. He was captured and held quietly.
It was a short sentence, as he sat in regret for his total actions, before someone of a promised future bailed him out early. Though this background of insurgency hasn't left him very popular amongst his new ranks in Project Freelancer, the ones who freed him in favour of his cooperation, but he's managed to get used to the minor verbal abuse faced in his first days, weeks and months. Now, kitted out with his new armour, he is far more suited to fitting in as a Freelancer Agent, rather than an Insurgent.
Weapon Loadout
M392 Designated Marksman Rifle w/ extended barrel
M6 Machine Pistol w/ Wrist Grip to attach onto Iowa, making it extremely difficult to drop or lose in combat.
M6C Handgun
Kukri Blade
x2 Smoke Grenades
x1 Fragmentation Grenade
x1 Dud Grenade
Fighting Style
Preferred at Mid-Long Range by his peers, superiors and himself, Grant suits the role of a designated marksmen quite well. But from what he'd been brought up in alongside the arts of guerrilla warfare, he's been chosen as useful up-close, mainly with both blade and handgun. These mixed with his armour ability make for a unique and fast fighting style, but hand to hand combat isn't his greatest strength.
Character Theme |
316 | 5 | 9 | 1,703 | 721 | Washington chuckled. "Wash is fine."
Washington watched Ohio taking apart the droids it was like watching an expert engineer taking apart a car, so thorough.
"Problem is i'm much more close quarters with my rifle here, i'll show you".
Roaring in a battle cry he charged into the nearest robot stabbing the robot as hard as he could in the chest. The bayonet piercing the robot's chest and opening him as easily as a can opener. The bot grabbed for him wildly as Washington pulled the trigger filling it full of led. It arms went limp just as Washington reached the end of his mag. Grabbing his M363 he fired it at the bots moving towards California taking out two and clearing the way for him.
"Domo arigato, bitch." His sudden lapse of concentration rewarded him with a punch to the face knocking him off his feet and back onto the floor. "No more mister nice guy then".
Pulling out his M363 he fire it at the chest of the robot who had punched him in the face. Kicking the offending bot in the chest it stumbled backwards over some rubble as Washington rolled out of the way. Standing up he saw the bot recovering from the kick. Walking away from the robot he pressed the red button on the side of his M363 the bomb detonated blowing the robots torso clean off. "I'm going to call you the sticky launcher, not the best name but it's better then the M363 Remote Projectile Detonator."
As he was just getting to know his knew sticky buddy a body came flying out of nowhere sweeping him off his feet and sending him crashing to the floor. "Woah, bit yo gun ho there dude."
Standing up Washington surveyed the battlefield, he could only see a few of these robots left. A loud horn could be heard over the gunfire and agents shouts. The robots shut down and stood to attention on the spot. The Directors voice then sounded over the intercom.
"Alright Agents that enough, You are dismissed for today. Washington you are needed in the medical bay, as of this moment your armour abilities are now activated. Ensure you follow the rules any deviation will be punished harshly! Apart from this you are free to explore the installation, go to your room or mingle with the other agents. It's entirely up to you. However you will have a mission coming up soon so be prepared to move at a moments notice".
Washington reloaded his AR and placed it on the magnetic grip on his back. He did the same with his newly named sticky launcher which he placed instead on the back of his torso. "Well that was a bit nuts right? Those bots always manage to surprise me with their resilience to fire. Makes you wonder why they don't use them instead right?"
Washington did a double take. "Wait you all have A.I.? What the hell all you guys get the bells and whistles and i'm standing here with my dick in my hand looking like a jackass. Hope I get the good end of the stick with these A.I.s."
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Leaving the training field he headed up to the medical bay. Before he was able to enter a female nurse said he would need to remove his armour and wear a surgical gown. "Already trying to get me out of my clothes cheeky girl".
His crude humor was met with silence. Feeling awkward he took the gown and got changed into it. Once he was changed he was told to lie down on a table. Washington never did like surgery rooms and he imagined that this would not be a pleasant experience. A mask was lowered round his face as surgeon gathered around him, after a few second he slept into unconsciousness and the surgeons began their work...... | Name: Jacobs Huntington
Codename: Washington
Age: 27
Gender: Male
Armour Ability: Teleportation
Implanted A.I.: Epsilon - Increases awareness and heightened senses by increasing the amount of stimulus the brain can take. Epsilon yearns for knowledge and will cause his implanty to become more studious.
Appearance:
Personality: Jacobs is an optimistic guy who always sees the funny side of a dangerous situation. He hates being wrong and doesn't appreciate being corrected (Even when he is wrong). Jacobs can be very cocky and overestimate an opponent, situation or even his own skills. Taking on tasks that are far too difficult for him alone, he can be very stubborn and will not admit when he needs help or even ask for it. Even with all this he keeps his head and always thinks about the objective and how to achieve it.
History: Jacobs had an ordinary childhood, nothing truly special. Brought up on military drills and weapon stripping he has known nothing but UNSC and the pride he would bring his family fighting for the UNSC. His family were quick to distrust the Elites joining humanities caused and this xenophobia rubbed off on Jacobs. Once he was of age he was shipped straight off to the nearest UNCS barracks to begin his training.
Fast forward several years and Jacobs found himself fighting an innumerable foe know as the flood and in charge of his own six man squad. Called the greatest threat to the galaxy Jacobs fully understood why. During one particular battle in which Jacobs and five other men had to protect and hold a comms array Jacobs finally saw the elite in a positive light. During the fighting Jacobs lost all of his men too the monstrous creatures with his back against the wall he saw his fellow soldiers rise up and turn on him. Seeing no way out he pulled the pin on a grenade and held it to what was left of his helmet.
Before he could finish himself the Elite reinforcements arrived in a rain of plasma fire. Throwing the grenade into the horde he watched as the Elite forces swept through the sea of flood systematically slaughtering this great threat. With the threat eliminated Jacobs thanked the Elites for their help. A few months later he was put forward for the Freelancer Project.
Weapon loadout:
MA2B Assault Rifle with built in bayonet.
M319 Individual Grenade Launcher.
M6H Pistol.
Combat Knife.
x3 Fragmentation Grenade.
x2 Flash Grenades Grenades.
Fighting Style: Jacobs fights up close and personal using his personalised Assault rifle mixed with his large variety of martial arts. |
317 | 5 | 10 | 180 | 1,443 | The butt of Montana's shotgun met the face of another robot."Will you just die all ready!" he exclaimed as the lights in the machine finally sputtered off ",About damn time, no game over today." He zigged and zag to cover to get his bearings as several other bots focused their attention on him.
"The fight grows weary, eliminate them," a low gravely voice stated.
"Not now Omega I'm busy and I'm working on it," Montana replied back peaking over the wall only to duck when a shot bouced off the barrier.
"All right then how about a bit of a bang," he said unstrapping a grenade and quickly jumping up and tossing it. Time seem to briefly stop as the bots looked at the grenade and Montana celebrated early. His celebration lasted only shortly as the grenade sailed over the bots to beyond an unoccupied barrier.
"That throws trajectory was pathetic," Omega stated to which Montana cursed at before finding new cover. The battle ended shortly after.
"Damn wanted to crush some more tin cans," Montana said with disappointed exiting the simulation room with the other freelancers. | Full name: Zeke
Code name: Montana
Gender: Male
Age: 31
Implanted A.I.: Omega - Increases hand to hand and weapon handling skill. Increases aggression in the user.
Armour Ability: Super Strength
Appearance (Armor):
Apperance (Out of Armor):
Still looking...
Personality: Zeke is a hard-ass type of guy, it doesn't necessarily means he doesn't have a sense of humor but most of the time he is straight to the point and doesn't sugar coat things. If things look bad, he is going to be the guy to admit that shit is about to hit the fan and not everyone is going to make it rather then try and be optimistic. Yet despite his hard nature, he enjoys poking his comrade's buttons and has a sense of humor that lies under the hard exterior, though whether or not that sense of humor is safe for his comrades is harder to answer, he has been known to let a live flash grenade loose in their rooms to see how fast they can scramble away from it before it goes off. He doesn't understand why he is the only one who finds it funny. XD
History: Hard to imagine a dropout could find his way to the freelancer program. He dropout of college sick and tired of the grind and joined the UNSC despite his parents protests, figuring he would want more out of life then being a 'dumb grunt' described by his father. He gave them the bird and out the door he went to start a new life as a soldier. It was no cakewalk though and at first Zeke barely scraped by to make it even into the army but he wanted to prove to everyone that he was more then just some dumb grunt and kept pushing himself, trying to be the best of the best. He was eventually moved over to work in an ODST unit, though his hopes of serving on Reach when the covenant attacked never came true, he still saw his fare share of battles within his unit where he soon got know for being a hardcase with his superiors. He got the job done for the most part but there were complaints of disobeying directives and reckless endangerment though no one was ever killed. Perhaps this was what eventually got the attention of those who ran the freelancer program. His dedication to get the job done by any means necessary would be considered a valuable assist to the program for those missions that were balls to the walls so to speak.
So now there he was a Freelancer, after ten years of working to show the people at home he was more then a grunt, he stood at the top with some of the best of the best, now he just tries to show he can be even better then them while playing the practical joke here and there that may or may not threaten the safety of those around him.
Weapon Loadout:
-M45D Tactical Shotgun aka "Scorn" as Zeke likes to call it, it's his pride and joy so to speak, been with him since day one and if anyone else besides him touches it, well they are going to see how hard he can hit before they can say 'sorry'.
-MA5D Individual Combat Weapon System
-M6H Personal Defense Weapon System
-x2 Frag
Fighting Style: Up close and personal. He's built like a tank, takes a licking but keeps on ticking so to speak. (He's like the Kool-Aid man but on steroids. XD) He doesn't use a knife though when he gets up close, instead he likes to duke it out with his fists when bullets just don't cut it.
Theme Song (because why the heck not):
Other: N/A |
318 | 5 | 11 | 2,335 | 389 | It was all a blur after he got thrown through the wall, his rifle tumbling out of his hands as he clutched his head. He looked up to the robot walking towards him, backing up slowly as he reached for his BMR. As the robot got closer Delta looked over to his left, shaking his head. "I would put your hands up."
"What?" Maine got confused, stopping his motion as his hands were up near his face now. Suddenly another freelancer rushed in, knocking over the robot going for him and throwing him his rifle, which he caught. Huh, so the freelancer wasn't totally worthless after all. However, he did see that he was getting pinballed between two robots.
As soon as he raised his rifle to fire, another freelancer, Washington, shot the two surrounding California. Well... shit. Now there were no robots. Maine got up, dusting himself off as he looked around to address the situation.
"Behind you." was all Maine heard from Delta as he turned around, practically getting slide tackled by agent Iowa. Maine slipped forward, falling chest first into the ground as he looked up to what shoved Iowa at him. Maine rapidly flipped his trigger finger, busting all the remaining bullets in his clip into the chest of the robot in mere seconds, scrap metal flying everywhere as the robot crumpled in a heap, several bullets speeding into god only knows where.
"Watch it, Freelancer." Maine said coldly, getting up once again and sticking his rifle to the magnet on his back as he watched all the robots shut themselves off. Keeping all his equipment on, he marched without a word out of the training room and straight to the firing range, wherever that may be. He wanted to know what the scores on the leaderboard were, but those didn't seem to be posted yet. He wanted to train with his new equipment in the mean time, not so much caring for the other agents at the moment.
"Agent Maine, it seems as though your equipment is online and fully functional. This should help us in spotting targets in smoke, through walls, at far distances, as well as predict enemy movement for more precise shots." Delta explained, standing on his shoulder like usual.
"I got it Delta. Let's practice with the equipment and test it out."
"Alright. Do you think you should converse with the other agents first?"
"Why would I do that?"
"Well you are a part of a squad and should be working together. Teamwork will help you perform missions more efficiently and help performance levels."
"I don't trust half those guys, and it's not like idol conversation will do much. I'm used to working on my own. Besides, I'm pretty sure half these assholes were rebels and insurgents, prisoners of war let out to fight here. My job as ODST was to assassinate, capture, do surveillance on guys like that."
"Either way, agent Maine, basic conversation won't hurt."
"Fine... after training. Maybe." Maine grumbled, giving in to the AI. It seemed Delta was more sociable than he was, borededing on caring. Very talkative too. But he was right... getting to know his allies would help. Even if Maine thought he was better than half the people here. The one did help him. At the very least gaining some knowledge might have benefits in the future.
At the firing range, agent Maine layer down, setting up his tripod as he looked through the scope of his rifle. Targets appeared in the distance, human shaped ones, standing very far away as they started to move in random patterns at varying speeds.
"Tactical visor online, scanning targets... fire when ready Agent Maine."
After that, the only sounds that were heard were gun shots. | Full name: James Lockhart "Iceman"
Code name: Maine
Gender: Male
Age: 23
Implanted A.I.: Delta - Logic - Green. Delta grants Iceman better reasoning skills, able to "slow down time" essentially in his head to make the most logical, optimal, and efficient choices. Side effects include lacking sympathy or empathy, logic taking over emotion.
Armour Ability: Tactical vision
Appearance:
Personality: James suits his A.I. well, as he is more of a man of logic and reasoning than anything else. He makes friendships because they are beneficial, not because he particularly enjoys people. It's not like he's a complete asshole or anything, but if you need something from him and it's not in his best interest and won't benefit him, he won't do it. He won't save you in a fight unless you're worth saving, but on the flip side he won't kill you unless he feels it's necessary. Granted this may make his morale scale a little out of whack, he's not some axe murderer either. He's cold, cunning, calculating, out for himself and only himself. And in battle, he always is level headed and has been known to think and be one step ahead. This is why he is the Iceman.
History: James never knew his parents, or any parents for that matter. His biological ones put him up for adoption because they were too poor, casting him out to an orphanage. It was in a rough city, so as you could imagine, bullying and the more than occasional beatings were in order. Food was spread thin, you had a room like a jail sell, and it was a miracle if somebody smuggled a toy in. In a world like this you only looked after yourself, and it was survival of the fittest every day. Kids did die in that place, and only the lucky ever got adopted. James wasn't so lucky. Instead, he made his own luck.
Through his life and going into his teen years, James would sneak out of the orphanage and steal from people and stores outside the city, getting whatever he could. Cards, toys, food and water, money, cigarettes. Anything of value. It took a while, and some close calls, but James got handy at climbing rooftops, sneaking down alleys, stealing, pick pocketing, conning. Running away and hiding. And occasionally getting beat up too. Shot once or twice. When he did get the items however, he bartered inside the orphanage, traded, gambled. Sometimes he would make alliances with other kids that would mutually benefit them. After playing the game for a while, James lived more comfortably than most, and was well known in and out of the orphanage. Then he turned 18.
Knowing that he barely had schooling and no money, the best option for him was to join the military. After passing the physical exams with flying colors, he was enlisted in the UNSC as a sniper. He was the top marksman in his class, and with a rifle he could shoot a dime off a clothespin. After many successful missions, he was promoted to ODST, where he would drop either in small squads for tactical missions or solo for recon and assassination missions.
The mission before he was recruited to a freelancer project, he was set on a mission leading a squad of four to do reconnaissance on a small outpost. It was a normal mission, and usually one of the less eventful ones, but the ODST was sent because there were rumors of the flood overtaking the now abandoned outpost. Well, it wasn't abandoned. After a sweep of the place, the squad was suddenly ambushed. Not by the flood however... it was the covenant. Five ships had surrounded the outpost and elites swarmed into the place. It was a trap. The group fled to loading dock to try to get to the ship before they were gunned down, except James refused to go with them and climbed up to the top of the rafters. He knew that the covenant would have already destroyed and looted their ship, and it was fruitless to try and get to it before hand. The squad had managed two fight through two ships worth, but full frontal assault on them was suicide. Watching his team die in front of him, he tried to figure a way out. After waiting several hours, he waited until the covenant were about to leave before making his move. After dispatching a few elite on one of the smaller ships, he piloted it in an attempt to escape. However, the other ships closed onto him, and he crash landed on an nearby planet with only minor injuries and fled the wreckage. Covenant ships touched down as the remaining crew was out for revenge. Holed up atop a cliff face outlooking the area, and with his rifle along with the rest of his gear, he managed to not only hold off the covenant, but killed them all, before taking one of their ships and fleeing safely. It wasn't an army by any means, there only being the two small ships worth of elites. It took a lot of stealth work, timing, planning, and chance... but it worked. Luck might have played a deciding role in this, but Iceman never believed in luck. He made his own.
This is when he joined the Freelancer project, where he was assigned the name of a state that was just cold enough for the Iceman. Maine.
Weapon Loadout: Model 99 Special Application Scoped Rifle, modified with a silencer, enhanced variable zoom, extended magazine, and a tri-pod.
DMR with a grip, stock, silencer, and selective fire for fully automatic, three round burst, or single shot. Modified to reduce recoil.
Black painted Bowie knife
2x frag grenades
2x smoke grenades
Fighting Style:
If you haven't already noticed from the bio, if you have read it or not, or simply looked at the weapons, you can tell Maine is particularly into long range engagements. He is quite confident in his sniping ability and he can handle most targets in that range, and likes to stay at that range. His field optics allow him to see mostly anything on the battlefield, even through walls (which his handy sniper can shoot through) as well as predict movements to more precisely hit his shots. A marksman through and through, he likes keeping his enemy at a distance. Bullets are very deadly and are good at killing people, hulk smashing somebody or going Bruce Lee on them is just stupid. He wants to be as far away as possible and shoot you before you even know he existed within a 5 km radius. However, this obviously isn't the case always. Overall he invests in a stealth first approach almost always, going into a situation with a plan and trying to outsmart and out strategize the opponent. If the engagement happens to get close, he resorts to the fully automatic DMR, and if too close and a built stealthier, the knife. In hand to hand combat he is average at best, as he doesn't do it a whole lot. However in this situation he would usually rely on cunning, such as getting the first blow in a sneak attack, somehow gaining an advantage, calculating the opponent's moves and looking for a clear cut opportunity. But through and through, in a fisticuffs match versus someone trained in hand to hand more than him or physically stronger than he, he is not going to be winning very easily. In fact, the best course of action against big scary people trying to, I don't know, stab him or beat him up might be running occasionally. Pick your battles, you know? |
319 | 5 | 12 | 1,389 | 397 | As all the Freelancers started to leave the training area, Utah, on the other hand went unnoticed inside a tall building within the designated space.
“What was the point of this, Agent Utah? We haven’t even fired a single shot.”
Zeta asked in a low gravelly voice as Utah looked through her DMR’s scope.
“I want to know what I’m dealing with, since I don’t just want to get tangled up in the mix; besides, sneaking around is also something we’re bound to do anyway.”
“And what are we dealing with, Agent Utah?”
“Based on my experience… A bunch of fuckups given suits, AI, weapons, and armor thrown into a group and expected to work together; nothing like the ODSTs I used to work with.”
Zeta then looked at her in his yellow floating form as Utah carefully surveyed each and every freelancer, not once taking her eyes off the scope.
“Do you think we’ll have any fun with them instead of these emotionless robots?”
Utah looked at Zeta, then tilted her head to look at the exit where the Freelancers were going through.
“No… Not at all… fuckups aren’t fun, in fact they’re as fun as shit hitting the fan---which by the way isn’t fun---besides, we need them although I hate to admit it; maybe when we're on a mission in a target rich environment though.”
Her lips parted into a smirk, a giggle escaping from inside her helmet. She lifted her DMR over her shoulder with one hand, allowing the other to hang off the side.
“You’re a "Fuckup" yourself, Agent Utah.”
She looked at Zeta and said, “Well better being fucked up than staying a virgin, am I right?”
Zeta took a pause as he processed what he had just heard.
“Your sense of humor according to my analytics program is, quote, as stale as a five week- old loaf of moldy bread, end quote.”
“Well damn, no need to be a stinker about it.”
Zeta then made the better decision of shutting himself down, leaving Utah with no one to talk to.
“Am I right, Zeta? Eh, Eh? Zeta?.... Are you… “Turned Off”?”
Utah waited for a moment, then she decided to crack off another one of her genius puns.
“Fucking rude, I’m sexy aren’t I?”
Utah laughed at herself for a while, reconsidered her poor life choices, then let out a deep sigh. “I’m a natural… I should get the hell out of here now though.” She then proceeded towards the exit of the training area.
“Let’s shake hands and make friends, shall we?”
She then proceeded to turn Zeta on again, her personality falling into a serious mind set, her demeanor completely changed.
“Have you stopped with your-“
Before Zeta could finish his sentence, Utah already knew what he was going to say.
“No more puns… We’re going to meet our new compatriots.” | Full Name: Jay Farraday
Gender: Female
Codename: Utah
Age: 23
Armor Ability: Super Agility
Implanted AI: Zeta, Known for causing nightmares, has a sadistic personality for instilling fear in others, incredibly easy to work with if you like causing psychological damage and can overcome personal fears and nightmares.
Before Freelancer
After Freelancer
Color Scheme = Steel Primary, Sage Secondary
Helmet = Mjolnir VI/S with HU/RS Attachment
Chest = Tactical/Recon
Shoulders = Recon
Knee Guards = FJ/Para
Out of Armor
Personality:
Jay is mostly uptight. Time is of the essence and should not be wasted to her as she is extremely efficient. She is stoic, composed and mostly keeps to herself. She avoids being competitive; rather, she gets sick thrills out of watching her enemies suffer in whatever way she sees fit. The objective of her mission always comes first to her, however, and will forgo her “Fun”. Her mentality is highly cynical as she shares a very sarcastic view of the world, along with a twisted sense of humor that is rarely displayed towards others (It usually comes out in terms of bad puns).
--Jay Farraday on the night it went all wrong--
Jay Farraday was already part of the German Special Forces on Earth, and was then selected by Naval Special Warfare command as she fit the requirements needed for ODST assignment. She finished her training with above average performance, and went on to participate in otherwise classified UNSC operations against the insurrection.
She and her squad were then assigned as an asset to ONI in a reconnaissance mission on an insurrectionist stronghold. The mission went terribly sideways, and went loud relatively fast. Only she made it out alive, covered in blood and psychologically traumatized.
ONI, not wanting to let the dirty secrets of their operations leak out, threw Farraday under the bus and labeled her a traitor to the UNSC. She was then transferred to a UNSC Correctional Installation where she stayed waiting for her Court-Marshal, until Freelancer got her on their radar.
Weapon loadouts
M392 DMR (I’ll just call it DMR in short)
M45 Tactical Shotgun
M6C/SOCOM (Also known as the M6 Silenced in ODST)
The Good ol’ Combat Knife
Grenades:
2x Frag
2x Flash
Fighting Style: Jay Farraday likes taking her time with killing from range but she isn’t scared to take the fight up close and personal with her previous ODST hand to hand training and weapon set. She also likes toying with her targets when she isn’t pressed for time.
Theme Song
--Freelancer Tribute-- |
320 | 5 | 13 | 2,077 | 1,839 | The battle began to sputter to a stop around Ohio, that didn't stop her fellow agents from packing in as much uncoordinated and clumsy 'team work' as possible. Ohio's smile was hidden behind her opaque visor, she had missed working as part of a team. It had been quite some time since she had last worked with people she wasn't secretly ordered to kill or betray. It was likely she would betray them anyways as soon as she had an ulterior motive but for now they were all relatively on the same side. The simulation ended with a summons for Washington, from what she would gather he did not have an A.I. and it was likely he was getting one. She silently wished him luck as she watched him go.
"Hey Gamma," She said summoning the A.I. as she began to exit the field, "They said something about abilities, they're not talking about what you A.I.s do., are they?"
"No, they have activated the special abilities unique to each set of Freelancer armor. You were informed of this, you have active camouflage technology built into your suit. Furthermore, my abilities are active at all times, should you choose to use them." The small figure on her shoulder informed her.
"Well I won't be." She snapped, her tone defensive and tight. "It's nothing personal but for right now I think its better that I don't. Invisibility, right, I used something like this a few years ago on a mission, I hope they've improved the tech. It didn't work well back then, the mission came real close to going south. Command really thought I was a gonner."
"Obviously you survived and succeeded, your record indicates that you've never failed a mission. I have a feeling that even the extended record I was allowed to download, there is still much I am missing." Even through that robotic voice it was clear he was fishing for information.
Ohio sighed, "I've worked for a lot of different people Gamma, that's the thing about not settling in with a team or in a division, you get shifted and you get used a lot. Not only is compiling all that information from different sources a logistical nightmare, some of it can never go on any record. My assignments have also been a hodgepodge of all sorts of things, it wouldn't be much of a coherent record anyway." Ohio had wandered her way into some sort of observatory room that over looked the various training rooms, a control panel glowed softly on the other side of the room. It seemed as if the agents had some ability to control the simulations but as the director and the counselor were not here it was likely they had their own master control center. "My instincts are telling me to start looking into the other agents but this isn't one of my missions and we're using code names for a reason. I'd be willing to bet there's a lot more to most of these people than meets the eye. You don't end up in a program like this unless you really want to be or you really had no choice."
Gamma hesitated for a moment before resuming his robotic monotone, "Agent Ohio if you truly wish to find information I maybe of some assistance. I haven't been completely honest in my abilities, I have some ability to posses technology. I could find information in the computer systems on board if you upload my program. I trust you won't say anything to the director?"
"You don't trust me," She scoffed, "You just already know I'm not going to say anything." She paused for a moment, standing at a window over looking a shooting range where one of the other agents was already practicing. "So you could like posses a tank and use it by yourself?"
"Yes, that is one application."
"Or take over a computer system and pretend to not be an A.I."
"That would also be possible."
"Good to know, we'll keep that to ourselves. I don't think now is the time to start sniffing out the others skeletons, not till mine are well buried." She said quietly, her tone more cold and stiff, "We are a better match than I even anticipated, until we betray each other that is."
Gamma acted as taken aback as a glitchy hologram could, "Ohio believe me when I say-"
"Cut the crap, it's who we both are, we're on the same side now but as soon as we want different things we won't be. Neither of us are sacrificers, we just take things and take things until we get caught or get what we want."
"For a liar agent Ohio, you tell the truth more often than one would think." He waited a moment for a response but Ohio said nothing and after another moment of silence he asked, "If I may ask Agent Ohio, which group of freelancers are you in, those with no choice or those who made the choice?"
Agent Ohio sighed as if searching for an answer, "When someone in my line of work receives a message saying they don't have any missions for the foreseeable future along with a suggestion to join a program like this you do what they want. Its a question of loyalty. I don't suppose you have any knowledge of the book Catch 22, do you?" She didn't wait for a response, "Basically the out come I want is to live but the only way I can do that is by joining a program that will likely kill me, the point is I can't win." Gamma's processors seemed to be chewing on that so he didn't respond, Ohio continued watching Agent Maine, "Good shot that one, doubt he's got any people skills, he's actively not socializing."
"Agent Ohio I can't help but see the hypocrisy in that assumption." Gamma commented plainly. Ohio rolled her eyes inside her helmet and remained silent because the stupid little robot thing was right. | Full name: Elizabeth Fenster
Code name: Ohio
Gender: Female
Age: 28
Implanted A.I.: Gamma
Armour Ability: Chameleon Armour
Appearance:
Armor:
Without Armor:
Elizabeth stands at just over 5 feet 6 inches and for her size has considerable strength, her build reflects this. Her hair is tied up in a tight bun when training or in the field.
Personality: Like Elizabeth's armor, she is a social chameleon, changing to create her desired social dynamic. Despite her tendency to alter her behavior she is generally very confident and opinionated, she loves a good argument but tends to distort facts or change them completely. How far her lies go depends on how much she thinks she can get away with in a given situation. She indiscriminately uses people as tools, with no distinction or protection from this for familial or romantic relationships. However she is by no means ruthless about any of her maneuvers, she will use anyone but she also can enjoy their company for reasons other than their usefulness. In fact, Elizabeth is critical of that aspect of people like her, they tend to throw away or abuse anyone who isn't contributing to their ulterior motive. She sees this as narrow minded and needless limiting of her tool set, her preference to maintain a status of being well liked also turns her away from acting like others of a more manipulative personality. Like her IA Elizabeth is quite the liar and only tells the truth when it suits her, she's never failed a polygraph test (even though those are bogus) and its truly impossible to tell what she really believes and whether she is lying. She has this ability to sound completely convinced in what she is saying and is quite persuasive on top of that. Ironically, she likes to build a reputation of being honest, calling a bad situation like it is, not being afraid to stand up for whatever her current values are, giving her 'honest' opinion, this generally establishes her as a resource of honesty which she pairs with painting everyone and everything else as untrustworthy. In tandem these techniques usually give her a reasonable amount of manipulative control on others.
History: Elizabeth was actually born in an affluent family, the kind that sends their kids to college to be doctors or lawyers and live long, safe, boringly wealthy lives. War be damned, this family was going to look out for itself. Elizabeth was to be no exception, attending a prestigious school with plans to enter politics. She even had internships lined up where she would be working rather high up in the Unified Earth Government, the people there saw a bright future for her. A vision she once shared but in her junior year of college, this changed. Suddenly, and to many she knew, without reason she needed to leave it all behind. Only an idiot would assume there was really no reason but whatever happened or whatever she had seen wasn't leaving her lips without a fight. Her parents were rather distraught but she did not notice this as she did not ever ask or listen to their opinion, this was the theme with most people who approached her about her choice. Something had changed and those people could feel it but they couldn't place it, she acted the same, she wasn't angry or upset but she was still different.
These connections she had made though did not go completely to waste, she managed to get herself into special ops training right off the bat. As a young girl with no formal military training, those she had persuaded to get her placed did not expect things to go well, they expected her to either give up and come back or settle for something easier. Elizabeth did neither, and though the combat did come slower to her, she was much better than many had even thought she would be at theory and stealth. Over time it became clear her combat skills were decent but her prowess was in her espionage skills. Many of her special ops deployments were to investigate corruption or other allegations in a clandestine manner. A job many would abhor, the idea of ratting out fellow service members, did not bother Elizabeth at all. Her role expanded to be that of an assassin, specifically one who could infiltrate a following, eliminate the target, and supplant leadership, in order to hand over control of the situation to the UNSC. Elizabeth has seen little conflict in the actual war and her battles have been waged against other humans, a fact she is aware of and as such keeps her past role under wraps. She also keeps these secrets because many of these operations never existed and if they were to exist it would be due to her acting as free agent and not in any relation to or under orders by the UNSC. It was recently suggested to her that her talents would be useful in the Freelancer Project, she agreed and was swiftly placed into the program. To her colleges she's created the image of a gifted recon agent and guerilla fighter but there are cracks and she figures its only a matter of time that someone figures out what she really does, if they haven't already. After all she's not the smartest person there but she's the best liar.
Weapon Loadout:
- (x2) M6C Handgun with 2 extra clips
- (x2) Standard Combat Knife
- 2 smoke grenades
- Hard Sound Rifle (because she loves bees)
Fighting Style: Elizabeth openly lets others fight her battles, she not the strongest and she's not the biggest but she does what she can. She tends to go for guerilla tactics. Her marksmanship is good but shes no prodigy, and she often has to make her hand to hand opponents tire themselves out because she can not physically overpower them. She is extremely patient and will wait as long as she has to for her perfect shot, even if that shot is actually a stab. |
321 | 5 | 14 | 904 | 2,988 | California grinned as he heard the exercise was now over, watching the rest of the robots power down. California's immediate response was to take of his helmet, letting his beard spring out and flicking his hair back. "Woo!" He exclaimed in exasperation. "Damn, that was some good exercise!" The freelancer commented. He rolled his shoulders as he walked out, rubbing his chin from the blow from the robot. Chi finally showed her form to California, sitting on his shoulder. Chi looked like a young girl with long hair, completely red and slightly see through.
"That looked like it hurt?" Chi noted, looking at California.
"Hmm... well, not as much as it should've. Before the Project, that would have knocked me out cold." He explained. "Did you have something to do with that?" California inquired. The girl puzzled for a bit.
"Well, kinda. I mean, you're like... a super soldier now so you've got the biological augmentations and the armour isn't made out of putty either, that's some hard metal you got encasing yourself. The AI explained. It seemed that California's AI did not share the common 'professional and toneless' dialect most other AI possessed. "But I do help you out too. I'm told I give you... uhm... adrenaline, yeah! And that hypes you up and, so says my data, can numb some pain as well."
"Yeah, adrenaline does that." He replied as he walked out of the training field. He took a good look at his new teammates. All by the books military hardasses to him. They'd all probably wanna stick to 'plans' and wouldn't enjoy his passion for 'combat improvisation' as he likes to call it.
"What? You don't like them?"
"Did you just tell what I was... nevermind. I'm not gonna ask questions about what I don't get. And no, Chi. It's not that I don't like them. They're all capable and probably just a bit of time before warming up to one another... but they'll probably not like me. I've been told I'm... reckless..." California admitted.
"Yeah... your files maaaaay have mentioned that." Chi giggled. Arthur shrugged.
"Eh, whatever." California laughed. He saw a freelancer that he... didn't see on the field. Weird... he saw everyone that participated... but not this one (). "Chi, who's that lady?"
"I dunno, I only have data on you. I think she's Zeta's Freelancer. But that's all I know. The AI's aren't allowed to talk to each other anymore." Chi said sadly.
"Huh, seems counter productive to do that... you bothered by it?" Cali asked. Chi merely nodded. "Huh, fuck it, I'ma talk to her." He said to himself before jogging up and waving his hand. "Yo! Recon armour!" He called out, using the only item of description he could recognize. "You, uhh, didn't get the memo? There was a training thing the Director ordered?" He asked, clutching his helmet between his arm and chest. | Full name: Arthur Jones
Code name: California
Gender: Male
Age: 22
Implanted A.I.: Chi- Excitement= Increases adrenaline, reflexes and speed during combat situations. Causes the user to become more aggressive and charge head first into combat.
Armour Ability: Disruption
Personality: California has two sides. Out of combat, Arthur is a friendly face around the quarters, who greatly enjoys conversation and very hospitable to the other team members. However, on the field, California becomes a force of destruction, always looking for the "Scorched Earth" option, much preferring blasting his way through the front door than stealth operations. He greatly enjoys training in all physical manners, and loves to practice hand to hand combat, wanting to prove that he is the strongest without any kind of boosters. He loves to ensue chaos amongst the enemy ranks, sending them into disarray as he rips and tears through them. However, his greatest passion is vehicles. He is a vehicle specialist and can pilot almost anything from warthogs, scorpions to hornets too. However, if he can dispose of it, it is most likely that you will find him soaring into the enemy base, surfing a mongoose as he fires blindly into the enemies, roaring triumphantly.
History: The Bear used to be a mercenary, shooting for the highest bidder and asking questions later. He was captured by UNSC forces at 17 after a mission gone wrong, and his contractor hired him to steal from a UNSC supply depot. He was caught carrying out ammo cache's with one of his cohorts. After being arrested, the Bear was kept for a year before a deal was struck. Volunteer for the Freelancer Programme or be sentenced to death for crimes against the UNSC and carrying out mercenary military contracts. The choice was obvious.
Arthur accelerated at all physical exercises, especially strength focused ones. As boots on the grounds go, Arthur was one of the best. However, his reckless behaviour from being a mercenary carried through, and in simulations, heading straight first into danger was his only plan of attack, much like an ODST drop pod. Sooner or later, the idea of stealth and tactics (as well as a respect for authority) was hammered into him somewhat, and through that, he got pretty handy with a combat knife. He also became extremely proficient in heavy weaponry, learning the ins and outs of weapons like Spartan Lasers, chainguns, Hydra Lauchers, Railguns and his favourite, the SAW. However, while also in the training simulations, Arthur found a knack for vehicles, and outside of simulations he was also seen in the vehicle bays, looking over every intricate part. Right now, his pride and joy is the "Chariot Of Fire". A custom Rocket Hog that he is working on, wanting to make it the fastest, most destructive warthog out there.
California is now a true Spartan, and his recklessness only ever comes to play when his teammates are in danger. He will follow orders with maximum efficiency and brutality. When you need siege, demolition and pure strength to punch through, the Bear is your call.
Weapon Loadout: Advanced SAW with lower fire rate but projectiles have a proximity-fused high explosive warhead. Commonly known as "The Answer". Custom Paintjob. Secondary weapon is a Sentinel class DMR with sentinel sight and silencer. Also carries a combat knife for CQB and stealth skills. He also has two M9 grenades and selects breaching explosives accordingly for missions.
Fighting Style: "CHAAAAAAAAAAAARGE!!!"- California's fighting style leaves a lot to be desired in terms of finesse. His love of heavy duty equipment such as heavy weapons and vehicles ensures brutal punishment to the enemy, either relentlessly sieging from afar or tearing through a corridor with a spray of rounds from "The Answer." One thing Arthur isn't is quiet. Well, he prefers not to be. He is capable of stealth but it is not his go to method. In close combat, Arthur deploys a boxing/wrestling approach, involving a lot of heavy strikes and grapples. |
322 | 5 | 15 | 180 | 1,443 | Your fighting leaves much to be desired, The AI Omega stated as they left the training area ",Perhaps I should of been paired with a someone with better skills."
"Oh can it will ya," Montana snapped back, the AI giving a huff of annoyance in response ",Besides crushing metal isn't the same as crushing skulls. You'll see that I'm the best option."
"Indeed we shall see," the AI ended the conversation.
"You are just a ray of sunshine," Montana grumbled as he moved down the corridor ",Well at least the one thing I can credit you with Omega is that you're not the chatty type." When he didn't get a response Montana decided to best try and converse with one of the other freelancers. He decided to roam around until he just happened to bump into one of his teammates. He eventually entered an observatory room. Here there was another freelancer, briefly trying to remember who it was he eventually struck upon the name the armor match.
"Fancy meeting you up here Ohio," he greeted walking into the room. | Full name: Zeke
Code name: Montana
Gender: Male
Age: 31
Implanted A.I.: Omega - Increases hand to hand and weapon handling skill. Increases aggression in the user.
Armour Ability: Super Strength
Appearance (Armor):
Apperance (Out of Armor):
Still looking...
Personality: Zeke is a hard-ass type of guy, it doesn't necessarily means he doesn't have a sense of humor but most of the time he is straight to the point and doesn't sugar coat things. If things look bad, he is going to be the guy to admit that shit is about to hit the fan and not everyone is going to make it rather then try and be optimistic. Yet despite his hard nature, he enjoys poking his comrade's buttons and has a sense of humor that lies under the hard exterior, though whether or not that sense of humor is safe for his comrades is harder to answer, he has been known to let a live flash grenade loose in their rooms to see how fast they can scramble away from it before it goes off. He doesn't understand why he is the only one who finds it funny. XD
History: Hard to imagine a dropout could find his way to the freelancer program. He dropout of college sick and tired of the grind and joined the UNSC despite his parents protests, figuring he would want more out of life then being a 'dumb grunt' described by his father. He gave them the bird and out the door he went to start a new life as a soldier. It was no cakewalk though and at first Zeke barely scraped by to make it even into the army but he wanted to prove to everyone that he was more then just some dumb grunt and kept pushing himself, trying to be the best of the best. He was eventually moved over to work in an ODST unit, though his hopes of serving on Reach when the covenant attacked never came true, he still saw his fare share of battles within his unit where he soon got know for being a hardcase with his superiors. He got the job done for the most part but there were complaints of disobeying directives and reckless endangerment though no one was ever killed. Perhaps this was what eventually got the attention of those who ran the freelancer program. His dedication to get the job done by any means necessary would be considered a valuable assist to the program for those missions that were balls to the walls so to speak.
So now there he was a Freelancer, after ten years of working to show the people at home he was more then a grunt, he stood at the top with some of the best of the best, now he just tries to show he can be even better then them while playing the practical joke here and there that may or may not threaten the safety of those around him.
Weapon Loadout:
-M45D Tactical Shotgun aka "Scorn" as Zeke likes to call it, it's his pride and joy so to speak, been with him since day one and if anyone else besides him touches it, well they are going to see how hard he can hit before they can say 'sorry'.
-MA5D Individual Combat Weapon System
-M6H Personal Defense Weapon System
-x2 Frag
Fighting Style: Up close and personal. He's built like a tank, takes a licking but keeps on ticking so to speak. (He's like the Kool-Aid man but on steroids. XD) He doesn't use a knife though when he gets up close, instead he likes to duke it out with his fists when bullets just don't cut it.
Theme Song (because why the heck not):
Other: N/A |
323 | 5 | 16 | 1,389 | 397 | As Utah was walking over to the exit, she heard someone yelling at her. She looked at California , the freelancer who was gesturing broadly at her by the large metal doors. He then proceeded to ask Zeta.
“Zeta, who’s that?”
“Data is insufficient…”
Utah then glanced over her shoulder to see the other freelancer, Iowa , still inside the Training area making his way to the exit.
“What about him?”
“Data is insufficient…”
“Well aren’t you helpful?... Ah fuck it I’ll just talk to ‘em; after that, let’s see if this place has a kill-house.”
Utah’s sarcasm didn’t seem to bother Zeta. Zeta was more of the reserved type of AI, which included not being very chatty, but when it came down to it, Utah and Zeta made a good match.
“Uh… Yeah, I heard, I was just up there…”
Utah pointed at her previous position with her free hand, while shouldering her DMR with the other. She proceeded to walk as she continued in conversation with California.
“It was a good place to watch the action from…”
Her words drooped with sarcasm, a stark contrast to her serious behavior no more than a few moments ago.
Brushing off her previous statement, she extended a hand promptly towards California, by way of greeting.
“Name’s Utah by the way, not ‘Recon Armour’.” | Full Name: Jay Farraday
Gender: Female
Codename: Utah
Age: 23
Armor Ability: Super Agility
Implanted AI: Zeta, Known for causing nightmares, has a sadistic personality for instilling fear in others, incredibly easy to work with if you like causing psychological damage and can overcome personal fears and nightmares.
Before Freelancer
After Freelancer
Color Scheme = Steel Primary, Sage Secondary
Helmet = Mjolnir VI/S with HU/RS Attachment
Chest = Tactical/Recon
Shoulders = Recon
Knee Guards = FJ/Para
Out of Armor
Personality:
Jay is mostly uptight. Time is of the essence and should not be wasted to her as she is extremely efficient. She is stoic, composed and mostly keeps to herself. She avoids being competitive; rather, she gets sick thrills out of watching her enemies suffer in whatever way she sees fit. The objective of her mission always comes first to her, however, and will forgo her “Fun”. Her mentality is highly cynical as she shares a very sarcastic view of the world, along with a twisted sense of humor that is rarely displayed towards others (It usually comes out in terms of bad puns).
--Jay Farraday on the night it went all wrong--
Jay Farraday was already part of the German Special Forces on Earth, and was then selected by Naval Special Warfare command as she fit the requirements needed for ODST assignment. She finished her training with above average performance, and went on to participate in otherwise classified UNSC operations against the insurrection.
She and her squad were then assigned as an asset to ONI in a reconnaissance mission on an insurrectionist stronghold. The mission went terribly sideways, and went loud relatively fast. Only she made it out alive, covered in blood and psychologically traumatized.
ONI, not wanting to let the dirty secrets of their operations leak out, threw Farraday under the bus and labeled her a traitor to the UNSC. She was then transferred to a UNSC Correctional Installation where she stayed waiting for her Court-Marshal, until Freelancer got her on their radar.
Weapon loadouts
M392 DMR (I’ll just call it DMR in short)
M45 Tactical Shotgun
M6C/SOCOM (Also known as the M6 Silenced in ODST)
The Good ol’ Combat Knife
Grenades:
2x Frag
2x Flash
Fighting Style: Jay Farraday likes taking her time with killing from range but she isn’t scared to take the fight up close and personal with her previous ODST hand to hand training and weapon set. She also likes toying with her targets when she isn’t pressed for time.
Theme Song
--Freelancer Tribute-- |
324 | 5 | 17 | 1,703 | 721 | Washington woke up in his room, feeling disorientated and groggy. Getting up he massaged his pounding head. As he got up he noticed a movement on the end of his bed. Reaching for his gun he trained it on the end of his bed. "Come out, or you're gonna be in a lot of pain" A small blue replica of himself appeared. It had exactly the same armour on as he had but was no larger than a Pint glass.
"Hey there, sorry I didn't mean to scare you. My name is Epsilon."
Washington's eye were wide open as the blue man disappeared and reappeared on his shoulder.
"The Director implanted me inside a small chip located at the back of your head. You can if you wish remove me whenever you want. However the Director says that's a bad idea. It wont hurt your or anything, it's just The Director wants us in your heads all the time. He also had them activate your suits ability. You my friend have the ability of teleportation. You can move yourself or objects through spaces. It works in about a one mile radius. Please be aware that you cannot teleport big objects or more than one person if you try more than one you might end up leaving stuff behind. Like legs or internal organs."
Washington smirked as he put his armour back on. "Noted Epsilon. Tell you what buddy I think we're going to get along just fine."
"Hey Epsilon? Is my head supposed to hurt this much? Feels like someones pounding away at my helmet with a sledgehammer". Stumbling he made his way out of his room. A few staff moved out of the way as Washington bumped shoulders with them. "Sorry"
Epsilon spoke in a cheerful tone female tone. "Don't worry there pal, the pain is just your subconscious and mine becoming one. It's going to allows you to recall a lot of memories that your brain normally can't however-" An ear splitting scream filled his ear, Washington crashed through the door of the Canteen knocking over a bin as he cried out in pain. The noise stopped as suddenly as it had started. His ear ringing, Washington slowly and painfully got to his feet.
"Epsilon? You there buddy?" A voice suddenly filled his head.
"But sir you have no idea what effects this will have on the A.I.. The A.I. was entrusted to you. It was going to help you with your research."
Washington recognised the next voice, it belonged to the Director. "That is right Corporal it was entrusted to me. Not you, not him. Me! You do well to know your place. Prepare the Architect. I've already had project freelancer accepted by the board of directors. I want the A.I. ready."
Then there was silence. Washington was now lying against the wall of the canteen. Epsilon appeared. "Sorry about that Wash, had to reboot. Some kind of bug in my system. Should be gone now. Wash? You alright."
"I just heard voices in my head"
Epsilon was silent for a moment. "Well then I'll have you booked to see the doc-"
"I'M NOT CRAZY! What I meant to say was. I heard the director talking to someone in my head, about something called the Architect"
Epsilon was silent again however this time when she spoke her voice was full of static and her speech was slow as if every word was a mile. "The Architect, I recognise that name for some reason. But I can't place my finger on it."
Washington sighed. "You don't have any fingers. It doesn't matter. As you said it was just a bug and it shouldn't happen again. Lets get something to eat." Looking at the bin he had knocked over he pointed at the first staff member that walked in. " Come on man pick up this mess you made!" The man confused began to clean up the mess that he thought he had made as Washington walked up to the canteen serving area chuckling as he did so. | Name: Jacobs Huntington
Codename: Washington
Age: 27
Gender: Male
Armour Ability: Teleportation
Implanted A.I.: Epsilon - Increases awareness and heightened senses by increasing the amount of stimulus the brain can take. Epsilon yearns for knowledge and will cause his implanty to become more studious.
Appearance:
Personality: Jacobs is an optimistic guy who always sees the funny side of a dangerous situation. He hates being wrong and doesn't appreciate being corrected (Even when he is wrong). Jacobs can be very cocky and overestimate an opponent, situation or even his own skills. Taking on tasks that are far too difficult for him alone, he can be very stubborn and will not admit when he needs help or even ask for it. Even with all this he keeps his head and always thinks about the objective and how to achieve it.
History: Jacobs had an ordinary childhood, nothing truly special. Brought up on military drills and weapon stripping he has known nothing but UNSC and the pride he would bring his family fighting for the UNSC. His family were quick to distrust the Elites joining humanities caused and this xenophobia rubbed off on Jacobs. Once he was of age he was shipped straight off to the nearest UNCS barracks to begin his training.
Fast forward several years and Jacobs found himself fighting an innumerable foe know as the flood and in charge of his own six man squad. Called the greatest threat to the galaxy Jacobs fully understood why. During one particular battle in which Jacobs and five other men had to protect and hold a comms array Jacobs finally saw the elite in a positive light. During the fighting Jacobs lost all of his men too the monstrous creatures with his back against the wall he saw his fellow soldiers rise up and turn on him. Seeing no way out he pulled the pin on a grenade and held it to what was left of his helmet.
Before he could finish himself the Elite reinforcements arrived in a rain of plasma fire. Throwing the grenade into the horde he watched as the Elite forces swept through the sea of flood systematically slaughtering this great threat. With the threat eliminated Jacobs thanked the Elites for their help. A few months later he was put forward for the Freelancer Project.
Weapon loadout:
MA2B Assault Rifle with built in bayonet.
M319 Individual Grenade Launcher.
M6H Pistol.
Combat Knife.
x3 Fragmentation Grenade.
x2 Flash Grenades Grenades.
Fighting Style: Jacobs fights up close and personal using his personalised Assault rifle mixed with his large variety of martial arts. |
325 | 5 | 18 | 2,077 | 1,839 | Ohio had been silently admiring and judging Maine's abilities when Montana's somewhat lumbering approach caught her attention. Ohio looked away and tried to match to match armor colors to fake names for a second before taking a bit of a guess.
"Hey there, Montana, right?" She nodded in his direction and paused for a second tilting her head to the side before continuing, "I don't know what you did to get stuck with the code name Montana but I'm sorry for you." She laughed softly, "At least they didn't stick anyone with Florida, could be worse."
Ohio leaned on the window ledge, looking back into the training area. "I'd say they chose some pretty interesting people to spearhead this little science experiment. I mean look at Mr. Overachiever down there, practicing already. He's a damn good shot but I don't see how practicing that over and over again is going to make him better at anything else." It sounded as if she was talking mostly to herself as she continued to watch, "Think I should go down there?" she looked back at Montana, she had already made up her mind but asked for the sake of pleasantries. | Full name: Elizabeth Fenster
Code name: Ohio
Gender: Female
Age: 28
Implanted A.I.: Gamma
Armour Ability: Chameleon Armour
Appearance:
Armor:
Without Armor:
Elizabeth stands at just over 5 feet 6 inches and for her size has considerable strength, her build reflects this. Her hair is tied up in a tight bun when training or in the field.
Personality: Like Elizabeth's armor, she is a social chameleon, changing to create her desired social dynamic. Despite her tendency to alter her behavior she is generally very confident and opinionated, she loves a good argument but tends to distort facts or change them completely. How far her lies go depends on how much she thinks she can get away with in a given situation. She indiscriminately uses people as tools, with no distinction or protection from this for familial or romantic relationships. However she is by no means ruthless about any of her maneuvers, she will use anyone but she also can enjoy their company for reasons other than their usefulness. In fact, Elizabeth is critical of that aspect of people like her, they tend to throw away or abuse anyone who isn't contributing to their ulterior motive. She sees this as narrow minded and needless limiting of her tool set, her preference to maintain a status of being well liked also turns her away from acting like others of a more manipulative personality. Like her IA Elizabeth is quite the liar and only tells the truth when it suits her, she's never failed a polygraph test (even though those are bogus) and its truly impossible to tell what she really believes and whether she is lying. She has this ability to sound completely convinced in what she is saying and is quite persuasive on top of that. Ironically, she likes to build a reputation of being honest, calling a bad situation like it is, not being afraid to stand up for whatever her current values are, giving her 'honest' opinion, this generally establishes her as a resource of honesty which she pairs with painting everyone and everything else as untrustworthy. In tandem these techniques usually give her a reasonable amount of manipulative control on others.
History: Elizabeth was actually born in an affluent family, the kind that sends their kids to college to be doctors or lawyers and live long, safe, boringly wealthy lives. War be damned, this family was going to look out for itself. Elizabeth was to be no exception, attending a prestigious school with plans to enter politics. She even had internships lined up where she would be working rather high up in the Unified Earth Government, the people there saw a bright future for her. A vision she once shared but in her junior year of college, this changed. Suddenly, and to many she knew, without reason she needed to leave it all behind. Only an idiot would assume there was really no reason but whatever happened or whatever she had seen wasn't leaving her lips without a fight. Her parents were rather distraught but she did not notice this as she did not ever ask or listen to their opinion, this was the theme with most people who approached her about her choice. Something had changed and those people could feel it but they couldn't place it, she acted the same, she wasn't angry or upset but she was still different.
These connections she had made though did not go completely to waste, she managed to get herself into special ops training right off the bat. As a young girl with no formal military training, those she had persuaded to get her placed did not expect things to go well, they expected her to either give up and come back or settle for something easier. Elizabeth did neither, and though the combat did come slower to her, she was much better than many had even thought she would be at theory and stealth. Over time it became clear her combat skills were decent but her prowess was in her espionage skills. Many of her special ops deployments were to investigate corruption or other allegations in a clandestine manner. A job many would abhor, the idea of ratting out fellow service members, did not bother Elizabeth at all. Her role expanded to be that of an assassin, specifically one who could infiltrate a following, eliminate the target, and supplant leadership, in order to hand over control of the situation to the UNSC. Elizabeth has seen little conflict in the actual war and her battles have been waged against other humans, a fact she is aware of and as such keeps her past role under wraps. She also keeps these secrets because many of these operations never existed and if they were to exist it would be due to her acting as free agent and not in any relation to or under orders by the UNSC. It was recently suggested to her that her talents would be useful in the Freelancer Project, she agreed and was swiftly placed into the program. To her colleges she's created the image of a gifted recon agent and guerilla fighter but there are cracks and she figures its only a matter of time that someone figures out what she really does, if they haven't already. After all she's not the smartest person there but she's the best liar.
Weapon Loadout:
- (x2) M6C Handgun with 2 extra clips
- (x2) Standard Combat Knife
- 2 smoke grenades
- Hard Sound Rifle (because she loves bees)
Fighting Style: Elizabeth openly lets others fight her battles, she not the strongest and she's not the biggest but she does what she can. She tends to go for guerilla tactics. Her marksmanship is good but shes no prodigy, and she often has to make her hand to hand opponents tire themselves out because she can not physically overpower them. She is extremely patient and will wait as long as she has to for her perfect shot, even if that shot is actually a stab. |
326 | 5 | 19 | 1,703 | 721 | Washington had finished the mountain of food that he had prepared for himself and had been about prepare another plate when the intercom came to life. The voice of the Director could be heard over the intercom. "All Agents are to report to the briefing room immediately. That is all"
Washington's shoulders sagged. Wiping his mouth he placed his helmet back on his head, Epsilon disappeared from the table as well. "Well fellas, it seems as though the mighty Director has called for are eyes and ears in the briefing room. Best not to disappoint him." Getting up off the bench he stretched his arm behind his head and burped. "Alright let's go then. Epsilon where is the briefing room?"
Epsilons voice chimed in reply. "Updating your HUD now.
Winking inside his helmet he followed the red dot that appeared in front of him. "Thank you Epsilon." It didn't take Washington long to get to the briefing room arriving he found the room empty being the first there. It didn't take long for the room to fill with agents. Once everyone was here the Director and his right hand man the Counselor entered the room. The room went quiet.
"Good afternoon agents of Project Freelancer. We are currently updating your A.I.s with the Mission brief as well as the location of your objective. You will leave at 22:00 hours and begin your mission. That is all, you are dismissed. The Director and the Counselor walked off the stage, leaving the room quiet for a moment as everyone's A.I.s explained the mission details.
"Alrighty Agent Washington got a tough mission coming up from my calculations there is a; 20% chance that you may die. However let's not think about that.
The mission is simple; Insurgent forces have attacked the Power plant on Research planet Delta-6B, they have sabotaged and disabled the nuclear reactor and have possibly overloaded the reactors core to critical levels. Their main objective seems to be disruption of the research facility located on the planet. We are to stabilize the reactor and rescue any survivors we find, eliminating any threats to the mission that may arise. There are several key characters involved in this attack:
George Relph: The Insurgents Second in command he is a deadly man who is skilled in many different martial arts.
Simmons Westford: Well known hacker. Wanted for Cyber Crimes as well as terrorism.
Finally there is Beth a Mercenary skilled with the Covenant Energy sword. She is known for using alien tech in battle and is possibly the most dangerous of the lot.
Apart from that there is a force of probably around 100 insurgents armed with various types of weaponry as well as Freelancer Armour abilities. It seems Agent Washington that your in charge of this mission. Best go up there and talk to the troops!
Washington nodded Stepping up onto the stage he motion to the agents to listen.
" Hey, I'm agent Washington and as you've heard I'm in charge of this mission and I, Have a plan! The only way we're going to beat these guys is with team work. I think a stealthy approach is necessary with a sprinkling of distraction and chaos to make the stealthy part easier. Maine you will be Overwatch and Sniper support. Your job will be to keep an eye on our enemies positions and also ours.
We will split into two groups. Myself, Agent California, Agent Montana and Agent Ohio will head to the reactor and ensure that it is stabilized returning power to the facility and to its defences. The research facility operates a Skeleton crew of about 12 scientist who use robots similar to the ones we fought for defence and manual labour. Once power is returned we will search for the Scientist.
The rest of you will work on distracting and drawing away the enemy from the reactor. That's you Agent Iowa and Agent Utah. Once the defences are back up the robots should help out making it easier to push back the Insurgents and force them off the planet or, wipe them out."
Taking a deep breath he looked at the agents. "Any Questions?" | Name: Jacobs Huntington
Codename: Washington
Age: 27
Gender: Male
Armour Ability: Teleportation
Implanted A.I.: Epsilon - Increases awareness and heightened senses by increasing the amount of stimulus the brain can take. Epsilon yearns for knowledge and will cause his implanty to become more studious.
Appearance:
Personality: Jacobs is an optimistic guy who always sees the funny side of a dangerous situation. He hates being wrong and doesn't appreciate being corrected (Even when he is wrong). Jacobs can be very cocky and overestimate an opponent, situation or even his own skills. Taking on tasks that are far too difficult for him alone, he can be very stubborn and will not admit when he needs help or even ask for it. Even with all this he keeps his head and always thinks about the objective and how to achieve it.
History: Jacobs had an ordinary childhood, nothing truly special. Brought up on military drills and weapon stripping he has known nothing but UNSC and the pride he would bring his family fighting for the UNSC. His family were quick to distrust the Elites joining humanities caused and this xenophobia rubbed off on Jacobs. Once he was of age he was shipped straight off to the nearest UNCS barracks to begin his training.
Fast forward several years and Jacobs found himself fighting an innumerable foe know as the flood and in charge of his own six man squad. Called the greatest threat to the galaxy Jacobs fully understood why. During one particular battle in which Jacobs and five other men had to protect and hold a comms array Jacobs finally saw the elite in a positive light. During the fighting Jacobs lost all of his men too the monstrous creatures with his back against the wall he saw his fellow soldiers rise up and turn on him. Seeing no way out he pulled the pin on a grenade and held it to what was left of his helmet.
Before he could finish himself the Elite reinforcements arrived in a rain of plasma fire. Throwing the grenade into the horde he watched as the Elite forces swept through the sea of flood systematically slaughtering this great threat. With the threat eliminated Jacobs thanked the Elites for their help. A few months later he was put forward for the Freelancer Project.
Weapon loadout:
MA2B Assault Rifle with built in bayonet.
M319 Individual Grenade Launcher.
M6H Pistol.
Combat Knife.
x3 Fragmentation Grenade.
x2 Flash Grenades Grenades.
Fighting Style: Jacobs fights up close and personal using his personalised Assault rifle mixed with his large variety of martial arts. |
327 | 5 | 20 | 1,363 | 2,428 | After standing to his feet, staggering slightly at the action of slipping around, being tossed around by mechanical humanoids and retaliating with fire, the all clear was alarmed throughout the facility, indicating that the exercise was indeed over. He took a long, deep breath to signify his relief. As much as he enjoyed shooting large robots in the head, it didn't make sense to him. In fact, it was worth ranting about, but far too many Agents had already made way for the exit before he had a chance to find the perfect dispute partner. It was saddening slightly. Iowa was quickly left as one of the, if not the, last agents still lurking around waiting for something to do.
They'd all left quickly, and so, he stood there. He wasn't sure of what to do, but as he began to walk slowly towards the exit, he began to talk aloud to himself. It was not a loud yell, more like a quiet ramble to himself. Though many could mistake it for a conversation with his AI, it wasn't to begin with. Iowa found comfort in talking to himself sometimes, as it allowed him to hear what he sounded like. If he knew what he sounded like, he could judge whether or not his idea sounded like absolute shit or like a cake-walk.
"I mean...Robots...Fucking, large and inhumane robots. Why train against robots when we're an Anti-Terrorist sorta unit? We fight against individuals with individual skills. Sure, a robot can adapt to my own fighting style, or anyone's really, but a human has their own style. And someone with their own style is used to an advantage. And we are less likely to face someone who literally tanks around like a Mantis Bipedal Mech than a man who has a nuclear detonation trigger in his fingertips."
His AI, Sigma, was quick to intervene. It was good at doing that, giving him that extra bit of information and talking ethic to keep him going from becoming a solitary, anxious young man.
"Agent Iowa, might I inform you of your more...outcastish behaviour? You don't look comfortable. Perhaps I should introduce you to the department of relaxation. Or possibly a comrade to talk to? I believe that you should get to know your working partners as soon as po-"
"If they wanted to get to know me, they would've walked up to me to start it. Everyone knows I'm terrible at getting straight into the talking." He walked along, DMR hooked onto his back and handguns onto his leg holsters. He was liking the new armour, quickly. "And what about pretty-boy Agent Washington? Director calls him in...I bet he's some prodigy to the team, or something..."
His mumble was low, and moderate. If there was one thing Iowa had picked up about his opinions of war was that heroes weren't something that could be given so easily. If the director was going to praise a single, capital-state named agent and expect everyone to look up towards them as a war-hero, then Iowa might as well be sticking his head up Wash's ass. A hero was a target in the big-game that was war, and having such a notoriety from both your enemies and friends was just a set-up for targeting or betrayal.Sure, he was more skilled than Iowa. Everyone was probably more skilled than Iowa. All of them had elite military training, or at least most of them. And those who didn't fought in major, suicidal situations on a weekly basis to conflict the threats of terrorists, insurrectionists and the almighty Covenant. Iowa, on the other hand, was just a boy brought up by a rebellious group. It was only in the last few weeks of their existence that had Iowa picked up a familiarity with conventional tactics, but they only led to the critical defeat that had Iowa captured in the first place. It was still a mystery why someone of his background, skill, ability and mindset was selected for such an important organisation and project.
He continued to walk, turning his head slightly to the small pairs of joyous, serious, jokey and regular agents converse between one another. No one was free, or not engaged in a conversation. Perfect reason to repel Iowa from his own introduction. None of these people wanted to know him, did they?
>The briefing room...
He slid in as one of the last ones to enter the room. Luckily, the meeting hadn't started. It wasn't overly crowded, as a small crew had been handpicked for this mission. It was awkward, to some extent. Iowa found himself in a room of people he'd accidentally knocked over during the training exercise. Perhaps they made more use of their time than Iowa had. But at the front, of course, was the Director's little angel, Washington. He heard his introduction. And of course...He was the team leader. It was inevitable, but he had to go along with it. There wasn't any options for making enemies within his only chance of survival.
Iowa folded his arms and tucked himself at the back of the pack, listening to his words. Insurgents...And what he'd be doing. Obviously, the distraction would be up to him. But he'd have to make an agreement with whoever Utah was. Agent Utah could be someone of his type, seeing as they'd been selected to run a task that naturally screams unconventional distractions. Plus, someone who likes to blow stuff up for the sake of catching attention is always a good person. Washington asked if there were any questions, and quickly, Iowa was the first to respond.
"Yeah, I have a few...First of all, can we have some information on who these insurgents are, as an organisation? I'd rather know who we're killing than being blindly asked to fire at someone. Secondly, a distraction? You want me to make a noise? Make an explosion? Make a trap? Do a lil' switcheroo with someone's lunch? Dress up as a woman and seduce them like a bad film? I'd prefer the second and third option, or am I being limited? And thirdly...Do we all get a chance at playing Leader or is it always a Follow Mr. Washing Machine from now on?"
Humour had been used to cover up some of his concerns. If they weren't going to do the distraction in a proper way, something he knew he was an expert in, and possibly Utah was as well if he knew who they were, then it might as well not happen. They couldn't cause too much damage, but they couldn't cause too little. More to the point, who were they going to shoot? Iowa had always had concerns about hunting insurrectionists. One day...One day they'd be going after who he had been brought up within. He needed to make sure...He needed to make sure... | Agent Iowa
Full name
Grant McGregory
Codename
Iowa
Gender
Male
Age
27
Implanted A.I.
Sigma
Increases the user’s general abilities allows the user to mentally map out and simulate battle plans. Causes the user to be more cunning, manipulative and more creative.
Armour Ability
Jet-Suit
Appearance
Personality
Whereas Grant hasn't been on the more optimistic side of life, he surely faces the realism of it. However, he enjoys sugar-coating his troubles with a sense of witty remarks and comedic, creative Operation methods. There aren't many times were Grant has seen a large, substantial amount of pride in his actions, but the odd here and there he'll celebrate whatever he finds amusing, witty or downright useful towards the given objective. Being more of a team-spirit kind of individual, due to his fighting styles, he's prone to depending heavily on other Agents on field, meaning solo operations or engagements can sometimes put a small deal of pressure and tension on him. Unfortunately, that also is a reason for him to get far too close to other members of his Unit, which isn't always ideal in Project Freelancer. Yet, within Project Freelancer, Grant has become more acceptable with killing other insurgents and targets than he would've done in his past.
Background
During the Great-War, Grant was brought up into a different style of life. Instead of fighting the Covenant or any other major threats, he made a living growing up within a Small Insurgent Cell that jumped between systems in order to sustain themselves. Though it does not provide the same military, extensive training, it features experience and training on the battlefield from small-scale firefights and sieges. Having started the arts of guerrilla warfare and unconventional combat tactics at a young age, he developed his way up towards the more important tasks his family and group had to offer.
Within this Cell, Grant had gotten enough experience to learn that even in humanity's desperate times, they were still keen on killing one another in the background, having caused him to be involved in their acts originally. They didn't plan on making a massive difference, but they wanted to get their message across about humanity's violence and segregation between one another. The only way to know how to do that was to devise plans that only the UNSC would be familiar with, violence. It was contradictory, yes...But it worked out. For a while, at least.
During recent months, an Operation to gather UNSC data in the hopes to convince them to pay attention to their demands and cries for help, which had been ignored for so long that the group had resorted to minor insurgency. Now, Grant was a difficult one to tackle. He completely supported the UNSC in their struggles against the Great War's threats, but he was in disagreement with their attention paid to the poorer colonies. Because of this conflict in compassion, when settled as a designated marksman for the Operation, he found himself only shooting the legs of targeted UNSC Personnel. However, this non-lethal decision had left him exposed to discovery, and a major conflict broke out during one of their objectives. Grant was lucky enough to engage in CQC well enough to eliminate two pursers, but could not prevent the force of the UNSC from catching up quickly. He was captured and held quietly.
It was a short sentence, as he sat in regret for his total actions, before someone of a promised future bailed him out early. Though this background of insurgency hasn't left him very popular amongst his new ranks in Project Freelancer, the ones who freed him in favour of his cooperation, but he's managed to get used to the minor verbal abuse faced in his first days, weeks and months. Now, kitted out with his new armour, he is far more suited to fitting in as a Freelancer Agent, rather than an Insurgent.
Weapon Loadout
M392 Designated Marksman Rifle w/ extended barrel
M6 Machine Pistol w/ Wrist Grip to attach onto Iowa, making it extremely difficult to drop or lose in combat.
M6C Handgun
Kukri Blade
x2 Smoke Grenades
x1 Fragmentation Grenade
x1 Dud Grenade
Fighting Style
Preferred at Mid-Long Range by his peers, superiors and himself, Grant suits the role of a designated marksmen quite well. But from what he'd been brought up in alongside the arts of guerrilla warfare, he's been chosen as useful up-close, mainly with both blade and handgun. These mixed with his armour ability make for a unique and fast fighting style, but hand to hand combat isn't his greatest strength.
Character Theme |
328 | 5 | 21 | 1,389 | 397 | Utah was going to carry the conversation with California, but before she could continue her introduction, she was interrupted by the Director’s announcement. She made her way towards the briefing room only to find it full of Freelancers. Glancing around the room, she scanned the other Freelancers and their armor, while the words of the Director rang out throughout the place. They were easy to understand and fairly simple, and the objectives were pretty straightforward. She looked at Washington stride to the front and deliver his announcement of leadership.
Utah wasn’t one to question authority, but she rolled her eyes at Washington, someone who couldn’t even keep up with the training bots back in the sim. He was reckless and stubborn. She questioned his leadership ability but in the end the plan sounded good, furthermore, she didn’t care too much about her having a partner. Her only concern was the means of distraction, which, if too heavy was sure to bring all manner of hell upon them, and if it was too light it wouldn’t bring much attention either.
She looked at the rest of her teammates and suddenly it dawned on her. These people weren’t ODST, these people weren’t even professional soldiers; she didn’t know whether they were the “crème de la crème” or some bums the Freelancer program picked up. Suddenly, her concerns became broader :what if the other Freelancers fail? What if her partner wasn’t up to scratch? What if-
Her thoughts were cut short as Iowa started up some commotion about Washington being the oh-so-glorified leader. She didn’t know this was her partner, all she knew was that this was the agent that was mumbling to himself leaving the training area. She wondered why he was so adamant with knowing who they were going to fight, wasn’t this team just a ragtag bunch of people sent to do missions without any raised questions?
“Hey Washington,” Utah began. “What’s our plan B when things go wrong? I mean, I know we’re all “badasses” at what we do, but I think some of us are familiar with what happens when you get your dick all caught up. That’s a lot of responsibility and money.”
she delivered the cringy contraceptive joke with the tone of mocking sarcasm right after Iowa gave Washington the affectionate nickname washing machine. | Full Name: Jay Farraday
Gender: Female
Codename: Utah
Age: 23
Armor Ability: Super Agility
Implanted AI: Zeta, Known for causing nightmares, has a sadistic personality for instilling fear in others, incredibly easy to work with if you like causing psychological damage and can overcome personal fears and nightmares.
Before Freelancer
After Freelancer
Color Scheme = Steel Primary, Sage Secondary
Helmet = Mjolnir VI/S with HU/RS Attachment
Chest = Tactical/Recon
Shoulders = Recon
Knee Guards = FJ/Para
Out of Armor
Personality:
Jay is mostly uptight. Time is of the essence and should not be wasted to her as she is extremely efficient. She is stoic, composed and mostly keeps to herself. She avoids being competitive; rather, she gets sick thrills out of watching her enemies suffer in whatever way she sees fit. The objective of her mission always comes first to her, however, and will forgo her “Fun”. Her mentality is highly cynical as she shares a very sarcastic view of the world, along with a twisted sense of humor that is rarely displayed towards others (It usually comes out in terms of bad puns).
--Jay Farraday on the night it went all wrong--
Jay Farraday was already part of the German Special Forces on Earth, and was then selected by Naval Special Warfare command as she fit the requirements needed for ODST assignment. She finished her training with above average performance, and went on to participate in otherwise classified UNSC operations against the insurrection.
She and her squad were then assigned as an asset to ONI in a reconnaissance mission on an insurrectionist stronghold. The mission went terribly sideways, and went loud relatively fast. Only she made it out alive, covered in blood and psychologically traumatized.
ONI, not wanting to let the dirty secrets of their operations leak out, threw Farraday under the bus and labeled her a traitor to the UNSC. She was then transferred to a UNSC Correctional Installation where she stayed waiting for her Court-Marshal, until Freelancer got her on their radar.
Weapon loadouts
M392 DMR (I’ll just call it DMR in short)
M45 Tactical Shotgun
M6C/SOCOM (Also known as the M6 Silenced in ODST)
The Good ol’ Combat Knife
Grenades:
2x Frag
2x Flash
Fighting Style: Jay Farraday likes taking her time with killing from range but she isn’t scared to take the fight up close and personal with her previous ODST hand to hand training and weapon set. She also likes toying with her targets when she isn’t pressed for time.
Theme Song
--Freelancer Tribute-- |
329 | 5 | 22 | 2,335 | 389 | Maine had left the training room when Delta informed him that there would be a meeting for their first mission. He wondered what kind of missions they would be assigned to, although he doubted they would be solo ODST mission drops like he would do prior. No, it seemed like they would do a larger scale tactical operation.
The director didn't have much to say, and that left Delta with giving him the mission briefing. Although slightly different from the others, because of his AI specifically given the information, he knew everything that he needed to know.
"Sounds simple enough. Looks like they have a pretty good arsenal coming with them. A second in command, a hacker, and a specialized soldier. I'll look out for them on the mission, take a shot and kill them if I can."
"That would be most wise, agent Maine. But remember, those high value targets will be heavily guardered. You will have to catch them off guard. The hacker will most likely be hiding in one of the buildings, making it tougher to get to him. Taking out those key figures will surely sway the tide of the battle, however."
"Affirmative Delta. Anything else I should know?"
"It looks like that Washington fellow is leading the charge I suppose."
"I guess that had to choose someone. I should probably listen to what he has to say."
The plan seemed pretty simplistic, no overly complicated strategies or tactics in mind. He didn't expect there to be, they all barely knew each other. He would be overwatch, which he expected to be right from the start. He wondered where he would be posted up at, whether that would be from the sky, a higher part of the reactor, or some distance away higher up. Once he knew the location it didn't matter too much, his ehanced vision and sniper rifle would help him take care of the rest.
Hopefully the others could take care of their jobs, and Maine didn't have to go through five clips saving people and killing ones that they couldn't. Making sure he knew all of the enemy movements, spotted them out, etc. Maine would make their lives easier, but it was up to them to complete the task.
Agent Maine shook his head when two people decided to speak up, talking this and that and just being disrespectful assholes. That was no way to talk to leadership, and if they were in the military they would know this. Smart ass remarks and whining got you nowhere.
"The man meant questions for the good of the order, not bitching and whining from the peanut gallery. If you're asking for how you should do your job and what you should do when things go wrong, obviously you're not competent enough to do your job and do it right. You are supposed to be elite soldiers, and the job for you two is a distraction. The easiest job. If between the two of you, you both don't have enough brain cells to complete your task by yourselves and stop your bitching, I feel sorry. We don't need to know the whole mantra for our enemy. We were assigned a mission, and we carry out the mission. I don't care if the other guys are a charity group. You chose to be here one way or another, so you are expected to do what your commanding officer asks and not question them. You are a soldier.
As for leadership, grow up. It's not you guys, it's him. They picked him for a reason. Obviously you too are not competent enough to lead yourselves, let alone a team. You are supposed to be the best of the best... start acting like it, not like a bunch of teenage girls. Now unless you have any useful questions, stop getting your damn feelings hurt and just worry about doing your job right." | Full name: James Lockhart "Iceman"
Code name: Maine
Gender: Male
Age: 23
Implanted A.I.: Delta - Logic - Green. Delta grants Iceman better reasoning skills, able to "slow down time" essentially in his head to make the most logical, optimal, and efficient choices. Side effects include lacking sympathy or empathy, logic taking over emotion.
Armour Ability: Tactical vision
Appearance:
Personality: James suits his A.I. well, as he is more of a man of logic and reasoning than anything else. He makes friendships because they are beneficial, not because he particularly enjoys people. It's not like he's a complete asshole or anything, but if you need something from him and it's not in his best interest and won't benefit him, he won't do it. He won't save you in a fight unless you're worth saving, but on the flip side he won't kill you unless he feels it's necessary. Granted this may make his morale scale a little out of whack, he's not some axe murderer either. He's cold, cunning, calculating, out for himself and only himself. And in battle, he always is level headed and has been known to think and be one step ahead. This is why he is the Iceman.
History: James never knew his parents, or any parents for that matter. His biological ones put him up for adoption because they were too poor, casting him out to an orphanage. It was in a rough city, so as you could imagine, bullying and the more than occasional beatings were in order. Food was spread thin, you had a room like a jail sell, and it was a miracle if somebody smuggled a toy in. In a world like this you only looked after yourself, and it was survival of the fittest every day. Kids did die in that place, and only the lucky ever got adopted. James wasn't so lucky. Instead, he made his own luck.
Through his life and going into his teen years, James would sneak out of the orphanage and steal from people and stores outside the city, getting whatever he could. Cards, toys, food and water, money, cigarettes. Anything of value. It took a while, and some close calls, but James got handy at climbing rooftops, sneaking down alleys, stealing, pick pocketing, conning. Running away and hiding. And occasionally getting beat up too. Shot once or twice. When he did get the items however, he bartered inside the orphanage, traded, gambled. Sometimes he would make alliances with other kids that would mutually benefit them. After playing the game for a while, James lived more comfortably than most, and was well known in and out of the orphanage. Then he turned 18.
Knowing that he barely had schooling and no money, the best option for him was to join the military. After passing the physical exams with flying colors, he was enlisted in the UNSC as a sniper. He was the top marksman in his class, and with a rifle he could shoot a dime off a clothespin. After many successful missions, he was promoted to ODST, where he would drop either in small squads for tactical missions or solo for recon and assassination missions.
The mission before he was recruited to a freelancer project, he was set on a mission leading a squad of four to do reconnaissance on a small outpost. It was a normal mission, and usually one of the less eventful ones, but the ODST was sent because there were rumors of the flood overtaking the now abandoned outpost. Well, it wasn't abandoned. After a sweep of the place, the squad was suddenly ambushed. Not by the flood however... it was the covenant. Five ships had surrounded the outpost and elites swarmed into the place. It was a trap. The group fled to loading dock to try to get to the ship before they were gunned down, except James refused to go with them and climbed up to the top of the rafters. He knew that the covenant would have already destroyed and looted their ship, and it was fruitless to try and get to it before hand. The squad had managed two fight through two ships worth, but full frontal assault on them was suicide. Watching his team die in front of him, he tried to figure a way out. After waiting several hours, he waited until the covenant were about to leave before making his move. After dispatching a few elite on one of the smaller ships, he piloted it in an attempt to escape. However, the other ships closed onto him, and he crash landed on an nearby planet with only minor injuries and fled the wreckage. Covenant ships touched down as the remaining crew was out for revenge. Holed up atop a cliff face outlooking the area, and with his rifle along with the rest of his gear, he managed to not only hold off the covenant, but killed them all, before taking one of their ships and fleeing safely. It wasn't an army by any means, there only being the two small ships worth of elites. It took a lot of stealth work, timing, planning, and chance... but it worked. Luck might have played a deciding role in this, but Iceman never believed in luck. He made his own.
This is when he joined the Freelancer project, where he was assigned the name of a state that was just cold enough for the Iceman. Maine.
Weapon Loadout: Model 99 Special Application Scoped Rifle, modified with a silencer, enhanced variable zoom, extended magazine, and a tri-pod.
DMR with a grip, stock, silencer, and selective fire for fully automatic, three round burst, or single shot. Modified to reduce recoil.
Black painted Bowie knife
2x frag grenades
2x smoke grenades
Fighting Style:
If you haven't already noticed from the bio, if you have read it or not, or simply looked at the weapons, you can tell Maine is particularly into long range engagements. He is quite confident in his sniping ability and he can handle most targets in that range, and likes to stay at that range. His field optics allow him to see mostly anything on the battlefield, even through walls (which his handy sniper can shoot through) as well as predict movements to more precisely hit his shots. A marksman through and through, he likes keeping his enemy at a distance. Bullets are very deadly and are good at killing people, hulk smashing somebody or going Bruce Lee on them is just stupid. He wants to be as far away as possible and shoot you before you even know he existed within a 5 km radius. However, this obviously isn't the case always. Overall he invests in a stealth first approach almost always, going into a situation with a plan and trying to outsmart and out strategize the opponent. If the engagement happens to get close, he resorts to the fully automatic DMR, and if too close and a built stealthier, the knife. In hand to hand combat he is average at best, as he doesn't do it a whole lot. However in this situation he would usually rely on cunning, such as getting the first blow in a sneak attack, somehow gaining an advantage, calculating the opponent's moves and looking for a clear cut opportunity. But through and through, in a fisticuffs match versus someone trained in hand to hand more than him or physically stronger than he, he is not going to be winning very easily. In fact, the best course of action against big scary people trying to, I don't know, stab him or beat him up might be running occasionally. Pick your battles, you know? |
330 | 5 | 23 | 1,363 | 2,428 | Before Washington had the chance to even pick up on his words, someone else began to question him, though in a different fashion as to what Iowa had picked. He presumed this were to be someone from the 'Front' team that went with Washington, but he could be wrong. Her tone was a lot more mocking than Iowa's, whilst he was trying to make a joke out of real concerns he had, she was a little more passive-aggression towards the tone. And that, was where Mr. Perfect spoke up.
His voice was a lot deeper, gruff and almost sinister than Iowa's medium pitched tone. However, it seemed that the woman's remark had changed the true intention and tone behind Iowa's questionings. And so, this man, began to speak up. He rambled on about how their job was the easiest, how they weren't being good soldiers...Who the hell did this guy think he was? More to the point, did he even know anything about the military? Sure enough, Iowa hadn't come from any formal military background, in fact he was the opposition to the military for a great deal of his life, but even then he knew that they weren't like this. All 'Do-exactly-as-you-are-told'...That'd be illogical and make plenty of room for mistakes.
Iowa looked over to him; he spoke in a tone that was not snobbish, nor too aggressive. It was an informative way of speaking. However, knowing this person from how he'd reacted to what he said earlier, he'd take it the wrong way and probably use his sniper to get what the pretty-little marksman wanted. It wasn't too loud, allowing Washington to continue.
"Uhm...First of all...Those were serious questions. I'm not sure if you've ever heard of humour? A lot of the people here use it to make the best out of the moments. Those were very serious questions. I'm concerned about how we're going to execute this mission. Even the best of soldiers ask questions, otherwise it's all improvisation. You gotta know how to do it right to avoid less complications. If you were a soldier, you'd know that plenty of their personnel ask questions during briefings, otherwise we might as well be tossed into the lion's pit with a stick and told to achieve world domination. And to get information on who we are fighting, well apart from having an understanding on insurgents, it's better to know your enemy than to not know them...Besides, I have personal reasons."
He looked around, half-listening to Wash's reaction towards the woman who spoke up. He had to give Washington credit, he had a bunch of arseholes like himself and this Perfect and Solitary marksman. Typical group of misfits all thrown into the wolf pack, Iowa being with them as one of the misfits.
"And I didn't know you decided on the difficulty of each task...But it doesn't matter if it is the easiest. Every role is important, so nothing needs to be prioritised over another if you want it to go how Washing Machine wants it to go. And I'm doing that job, along with whoever, so why should it concern you on whether I want to find out how to do it? Aren't you already doing something more difficult and important? I have enough brain-cells to ask how our leader wants it, not how you want it to go. And if you want to give Washington that leadership, perhaps you should let him answer the questions I directed to him, not you, all questions that I genuinely want to know. I'm sorry if I don't function like the Best-of-the-Best Elite whatever like you do, but that's how life works. I'm not going to be the same as you, so...Let me get my answers, and then the issue is resolved. No further things to debate about. Let me get what Washington wants me to know, then it's bye bye to this conversation, because any Elite Soldier wants to get along with his team, not intervene in something that wasn't involving them..." | Agent Iowa
Full name
Grant McGregory
Codename
Iowa
Gender
Male
Age
27
Implanted A.I.
Sigma
Increases the user’s general abilities allows the user to mentally map out and simulate battle plans. Causes the user to be more cunning, manipulative and more creative.
Armour Ability
Jet-Suit
Appearance
Personality
Whereas Grant hasn't been on the more optimistic side of life, he surely faces the realism of it. However, he enjoys sugar-coating his troubles with a sense of witty remarks and comedic, creative Operation methods. There aren't many times were Grant has seen a large, substantial amount of pride in his actions, but the odd here and there he'll celebrate whatever he finds amusing, witty or downright useful towards the given objective. Being more of a team-spirit kind of individual, due to his fighting styles, he's prone to depending heavily on other Agents on field, meaning solo operations or engagements can sometimes put a small deal of pressure and tension on him. Unfortunately, that also is a reason for him to get far too close to other members of his Unit, which isn't always ideal in Project Freelancer. Yet, within Project Freelancer, Grant has become more acceptable with killing other insurgents and targets than he would've done in his past.
Background
During the Great-War, Grant was brought up into a different style of life. Instead of fighting the Covenant or any other major threats, he made a living growing up within a Small Insurgent Cell that jumped between systems in order to sustain themselves. Though it does not provide the same military, extensive training, it features experience and training on the battlefield from small-scale firefights and sieges. Having started the arts of guerrilla warfare and unconventional combat tactics at a young age, he developed his way up towards the more important tasks his family and group had to offer.
Within this Cell, Grant had gotten enough experience to learn that even in humanity's desperate times, they were still keen on killing one another in the background, having caused him to be involved in their acts originally. They didn't plan on making a massive difference, but they wanted to get their message across about humanity's violence and segregation between one another. The only way to know how to do that was to devise plans that only the UNSC would be familiar with, violence. It was contradictory, yes...But it worked out. For a while, at least.
During recent months, an Operation to gather UNSC data in the hopes to convince them to pay attention to their demands and cries for help, which had been ignored for so long that the group had resorted to minor insurgency. Now, Grant was a difficult one to tackle. He completely supported the UNSC in their struggles against the Great War's threats, but he was in disagreement with their attention paid to the poorer colonies. Because of this conflict in compassion, when settled as a designated marksman for the Operation, he found himself only shooting the legs of targeted UNSC Personnel. However, this non-lethal decision had left him exposed to discovery, and a major conflict broke out during one of their objectives. Grant was lucky enough to engage in CQC well enough to eliminate two pursers, but could not prevent the force of the UNSC from catching up quickly. He was captured and held quietly.
It was a short sentence, as he sat in regret for his total actions, before someone of a promised future bailed him out early. Though this background of insurgency hasn't left him very popular amongst his new ranks in Project Freelancer, the ones who freed him in favour of his cooperation, but he's managed to get used to the minor verbal abuse faced in his first days, weeks and months. Now, kitted out with his new armour, he is far more suited to fitting in as a Freelancer Agent, rather than an Insurgent.
Weapon Loadout
M392 Designated Marksman Rifle w/ extended barrel
M6 Machine Pistol w/ Wrist Grip to attach onto Iowa, making it extremely difficult to drop or lose in combat.
M6C Handgun
Kukri Blade
x2 Smoke Grenades
x1 Fragmentation Grenade
x1 Dud Grenade
Fighting Style
Preferred at Mid-Long Range by his peers, superiors and himself, Grant suits the role of a designated marksmen quite well. But from what he'd been brought up in alongside the arts of guerrilla warfare, he's been chosen as useful up-close, mainly with both blade and handgun. These mixed with his armour ability make for a unique and fast fighting style, but hand to hand combat isn't his greatest strength.
Character Theme |
331 | 5 | 24 | 1,703 | 721 | Washington was taken aback at all of the question. As he was about to answer he begun to hear whispering in his ear it sounded like the councilor. "Director the unit is failing, you're pushing it too hard!" Than he heard the Director "Quiet the unit can take it! Push it harder!"
Washington was silent for a while as the voices left his ear. "Uh. Listen here guys, rank doesn't mean shit here. No matter who you may have been on the outside in here we're all the same. Except maybe right now. The Director has put me in charge here so I guess at the moment I am your commanding officer."
Washington left the stage and pulled up a holo map that appeared in front of him. "Now from what Epsilon has filled me in on this place has been working on some kind of experimental power source. Something they gained during the war covenant tech probably. The people causing the distractions can do this in whatever means they wish, you're job is to create plenty of noise and act as a distraction so we can move in and secure the scientist. I myself will deal with the reactor and I expect the two with me to provide security."
The Holo map showed a large compound with two large steam vents behind the vents is a large building with one entrance. Washington pointed to the large building. "This is where we need to go. Our overwatch can use the vents for a better view and for some good cover too, there are walkways along the very top for maintenance. The facility goes deep underground so expect my crew to drop off the radar when we go into them."
After Washington had explained the layout he turned to the question. "If shit hits the fan I expect you all man up and use your new armour. Remember we have the advantage they don't have we're well trained, in expensive spartan class armour with enhancements and we all have are A.I. to help us with the fight. As for who these insurgents are? I have no idea, possibly people trying to cause trouble for the UNSC but I have no idea. Ask the Director if he'll tell you." Washington's voice distorted slightly as he said the last part.
Washington carried on like nothing had happened "We'll be being dropped in by air using our armours lock in to survive the fall, we will than split off from the distraction team and wait for them to launch their attack and than move into the building to search for the scientists. Over watch you'll be dropping in with a stealth chute." Washington sent the Stealth chutes info to Maine. The stealth chute was essentially a stealth parachute that allowed the individual to get where they needed to get quickly and with no detection. "As for who get's leader next? Search me. Any more question?" | Name: Jacobs Huntington
Codename: Washington
Age: 27
Gender: Male
Armour Ability: Teleportation
Implanted A.I.: Epsilon - Increases awareness and heightened senses by increasing the amount of stimulus the brain can take. Epsilon yearns for knowledge and will cause his implanty to become more studious.
Appearance:
Personality: Jacobs is an optimistic guy who always sees the funny side of a dangerous situation. He hates being wrong and doesn't appreciate being corrected (Even when he is wrong). Jacobs can be very cocky and overestimate an opponent, situation or even his own skills. Taking on tasks that are far too difficult for him alone, he can be very stubborn and will not admit when he needs help or even ask for it. Even with all this he keeps his head and always thinks about the objective and how to achieve it.
History: Jacobs had an ordinary childhood, nothing truly special. Brought up on military drills and weapon stripping he has known nothing but UNSC and the pride he would bring his family fighting for the UNSC. His family were quick to distrust the Elites joining humanities caused and this xenophobia rubbed off on Jacobs. Once he was of age he was shipped straight off to the nearest UNCS barracks to begin his training.
Fast forward several years and Jacobs found himself fighting an innumerable foe know as the flood and in charge of his own six man squad. Called the greatest threat to the galaxy Jacobs fully understood why. During one particular battle in which Jacobs and five other men had to protect and hold a comms array Jacobs finally saw the elite in a positive light. During the fighting Jacobs lost all of his men too the monstrous creatures with his back against the wall he saw his fellow soldiers rise up and turn on him. Seeing no way out he pulled the pin on a grenade and held it to what was left of his helmet.
Before he could finish himself the Elite reinforcements arrived in a rain of plasma fire. Throwing the grenade into the horde he watched as the Elite forces swept through the sea of flood systematically slaughtering this great threat. With the threat eliminated Jacobs thanked the Elites for their help. A few months later he was put forward for the Freelancer Project.
Weapon loadout:
MA2B Assault Rifle with built in bayonet.
M319 Individual Grenade Launcher.
M6H Pistol.
Combat Knife.
x3 Fragmentation Grenade.
x2 Flash Grenades Grenades.
Fighting Style: Jacobs fights up close and personal using his personalised Assault rifle mixed with his large variety of martial arts. |
332 | 5 | 25 | 180 | 1,443 | Now in the briefing room, Montana listened to the first operation that they would be heading out on. At least it seemed they were all equals on this mission minus whoever was going to be calling the shots but better then dealing with someone high up who thought they were superior to everyone else.
Montana couldn't stifle the slight groan of seemingly being placed onto the stealth group but didn't complain, might as well show that he could be flexible, even if he wanted to blow a few holes through some enemies. If he was lucky maybe he would get to snap a few necks. At least he could try to look forward to that if anything.
Once Agent Washington was done talking it was just a waiting game to see who had any more questions on what was going to be happening. | Full name: Zeke
Code name: Montana
Gender: Male
Age: 31
Implanted A.I.: Omega - Increases hand to hand and weapon handling skill. Increases aggression in the user.
Armour Ability: Super Strength
Appearance (Armor):
Apperance (Out of Armor):
Still looking...
Personality: Zeke is a hard-ass type of guy, it doesn't necessarily means he doesn't have a sense of humor but most of the time he is straight to the point and doesn't sugar coat things. If things look bad, he is going to be the guy to admit that shit is about to hit the fan and not everyone is going to make it rather then try and be optimistic. Yet despite his hard nature, he enjoys poking his comrade's buttons and has a sense of humor that lies under the hard exterior, though whether or not that sense of humor is safe for his comrades is harder to answer, he has been known to let a live flash grenade loose in their rooms to see how fast they can scramble away from it before it goes off. He doesn't understand why he is the only one who finds it funny. XD
History: Hard to imagine a dropout could find his way to the freelancer program. He dropout of college sick and tired of the grind and joined the UNSC despite his parents protests, figuring he would want more out of life then being a 'dumb grunt' described by his father. He gave them the bird and out the door he went to start a new life as a soldier. It was no cakewalk though and at first Zeke barely scraped by to make it even into the army but he wanted to prove to everyone that he was more then just some dumb grunt and kept pushing himself, trying to be the best of the best. He was eventually moved over to work in an ODST unit, though his hopes of serving on Reach when the covenant attacked never came true, he still saw his fare share of battles within his unit where he soon got know for being a hardcase with his superiors. He got the job done for the most part but there were complaints of disobeying directives and reckless endangerment though no one was ever killed. Perhaps this was what eventually got the attention of those who ran the freelancer program. His dedication to get the job done by any means necessary would be considered a valuable assist to the program for those missions that were balls to the walls so to speak.
So now there he was a Freelancer, after ten years of working to show the people at home he was more then a grunt, he stood at the top with some of the best of the best, now he just tries to show he can be even better then them while playing the practical joke here and there that may or may not threaten the safety of those around him.
Weapon Loadout:
-M45D Tactical Shotgun aka "Scorn" as Zeke likes to call it, it's his pride and joy so to speak, been with him since day one and if anyone else besides him touches it, well they are going to see how hard he can hit before they can say 'sorry'.
-MA5D Individual Combat Weapon System
-M6H Personal Defense Weapon System
-x2 Frag
Fighting Style: Up close and personal. He's built like a tank, takes a licking but keeps on ticking so to speak. (He's like the Kool-Aid man but on steroids. XD) He doesn't use a knife though when he gets up close, instead he likes to duke it out with his fists when bullets just don't cut it.
Theme Song (because why the heck not):
Other: N/A |
333 | 5 | 26 | 1,389 | 397 | Utah hasn't even flinched from her original position, she tuned out the argument in the background and waited for the team lead to respond, she didn't really care of what Maine thought of her, she didn't know him, he didn't know her, and she has her own way of doing things and if that pissed him off so be it; from her experience only the CO get's to boss everyone around.
When the Iowa finished talking, she was going to repeat the questions but Wash was just a tad bit quicker, she listened carefully, apparently the back up plan was their armor augmentations, the plan was to turn the odds in their favor.
Additionally she pondered on something Wash said: that rank doesn't matter, that they're all the same no matter the outside background, she almost scoffed at the thought of it, 'these people are the same as me? Not a chance, there's no way the would know what hell I went through would they?' she pushed her thoughts aside and refocused.
There was one more question in her mind however...
"One more thing, what is everyone's designated codename? We were given them might as well use 'em."
the way she spoke this time was more of a calm serious demeanor, Washington's reflection shone off on her bright blue visor, in her mind the mission was the most important thing, she wanted to know the names to be able to communicate effectively with her team, her weapons were ready for the job, her pouches packed with ammunition; she was going to 'make friends' later on instead. | Full Name: Jay Farraday
Gender: Female
Codename: Utah
Age: 23
Armor Ability: Super Agility
Implanted AI: Zeta, Known for causing nightmares, has a sadistic personality for instilling fear in others, incredibly easy to work with if you like causing psychological damage and can overcome personal fears and nightmares.
Before Freelancer
After Freelancer
Color Scheme = Steel Primary, Sage Secondary
Helmet = Mjolnir VI/S with HU/RS Attachment
Chest = Tactical/Recon
Shoulders = Recon
Knee Guards = FJ/Para
Out of Armor
Personality:
Jay is mostly uptight. Time is of the essence and should not be wasted to her as she is extremely efficient. She is stoic, composed and mostly keeps to herself. She avoids being competitive; rather, she gets sick thrills out of watching her enemies suffer in whatever way she sees fit. The objective of her mission always comes first to her, however, and will forgo her “Fun”. Her mentality is highly cynical as she shares a very sarcastic view of the world, along with a twisted sense of humor that is rarely displayed towards others (It usually comes out in terms of bad puns).
--Jay Farraday on the night it went all wrong--
Jay Farraday was already part of the German Special Forces on Earth, and was then selected by Naval Special Warfare command as she fit the requirements needed for ODST assignment. She finished her training with above average performance, and went on to participate in otherwise classified UNSC operations against the insurrection.
She and her squad were then assigned as an asset to ONI in a reconnaissance mission on an insurrectionist stronghold. The mission went terribly sideways, and went loud relatively fast. Only she made it out alive, covered in blood and psychologically traumatized.
ONI, not wanting to let the dirty secrets of their operations leak out, threw Farraday under the bus and labeled her a traitor to the UNSC. She was then transferred to a UNSC Correctional Installation where she stayed waiting for her Court-Marshal, until Freelancer got her on their radar.
Weapon loadouts
M392 DMR (I’ll just call it DMR in short)
M45 Tactical Shotgun
M6C/SOCOM (Also known as the M6 Silenced in ODST)
The Good ol’ Combat Knife
Grenades:
2x Frag
2x Flash
Fighting Style: Jay Farraday likes taking her time with killing from range but she isn’t scared to take the fight up close and personal with her previous ODST hand to hand training and weapon set. She also likes toying with her targets when she isn’t pressed for time.
Theme Song
--Freelancer Tribute-- |
334 | 5 | 27 | 1,703 | 721 | "We'll use are standard code-names for the operation. If that's all the question we'll be heading out at 19:00 so prep your gear and i'll see you there!" Washington left the briefing to rest his aching head and clear his mind for the mission ahead.
18:00
Happy that everything was in order he looked at the drop Pelican that would be transporting them. Outfitted for high orbit drops it had many pods strapped to the sides and was almost twice the size of a regular pelican, built to drop them in then zoom out. Looking at it he remembered how much he hated Halo dropping. The gut wrenching G force and of course the crashing, that was his least favorite part of it. As he was imaging the idea of plummeting to his death the Counselor walked in, as several of the engineers stopped to salute.
"Good evening Agent Washington. How are you today? Ah. Gearing up for the mission then I see."
Washington turned to The Counselor he wasn't a person to salute a superior, not after what he had seen in the war against the flood. Washington didn't like this man, something about the Counselor was off. He just couldn't place his finger on it. "Good Evening to you too Counselor. I'm doing okay, not looking forward to the Halo drop. Never did trust these buckets of metal we're dropped from the sky in.
The counselor chuckled lightly, looking down at his PDA he tapped it a few times before replying. "We've had some reports that your A.I. may be malfunctioning. Have you noticed anything irregular about it?"
Washington Said yes but what came out was. "No sir, nothing Irregular at all."
"Okay then, we'll keep an eye on you just in case. These A.I.s are experimental, so they may be a little buggy. It's best we squash these bugs before they become a problem." The counselor walked away and out of the shuttle bay. Washington was a loss for words.
"Epsilon, What the fuck did you just do?"
Epsilon appeared looking sheepish. "I'm sorry Wash, I didn't want you to tell him I might be faulty, he'll rip me out of your skull and lock me away again. I don't think I could deal with being alone with it again." Epsilons voice was full of terror now and Washington was getting quite concerned.
"Easy there Epsilon. What do you mean by alone with it? With the other A.I.s? But, you're all separated so why does it matter?"
Epsilons voice cut out and was replaced by thousands of different voice speaking in unison. "I am the Alpha I am who was, I am what was destroyed in pain and suffering I was the First."
Now it was Washington's turn to be afraid. The voices cut out leaving the sound of a woman crying in his head. "Umm, Epsilon? You alright?"
The crying faded out replaced with Epsilon's voice "Yes, why do you ask? Come on Wash, it's almost time for the mission to start. Are drones we that were sent out have submitted a report of the current location of the enemy. Beth is there she is currently guarding the perimeter a long with a couple of dozen rebels. However due to the lining of the Reactor room the drone is having trouble telling who else maybe inside the building."
Washington was worried for his own safety now, Epsilon was having some major malfunctions and there wasn't a damn thing he could do. Pushing it aside he would confront this issue after the mission. Opening up the coms he radioed all agents heading out on the mission. "This is Agent Washington to all Agents. The mission is a-go please make your way to the shuttle bay and prepare to leave." | Name: Jacobs Huntington
Codename: Washington
Age: 27
Gender: Male
Armour Ability: Teleportation
Implanted A.I.: Epsilon - Increases awareness and heightened senses by increasing the amount of stimulus the brain can take. Epsilon yearns for knowledge and will cause his implanty to become more studious.
Appearance:
Personality: Jacobs is an optimistic guy who always sees the funny side of a dangerous situation. He hates being wrong and doesn't appreciate being corrected (Even when he is wrong). Jacobs can be very cocky and overestimate an opponent, situation or even his own skills. Taking on tasks that are far too difficult for him alone, he can be very stubborn and will not admit when he needs help or even ask for it. Even with all this he keeps his head and always thinks about the objective and how to achieve it.
History: Jacobs had an ordinary childhood, nothing truly special. Brought up on military drills and weapon stripping he has known nothing but UNSC and the pride he would bring his family fighting for the UNSC. His family were quick to distrust the Elites joining humanities caused and this xenophobia rubbed off on Jacobs. Once he was of age he was shipped straight off to the nearest UNCS barracks to begin his training.
Fast forward several years and Jacobs found himself fighting an innumerable foe know as the flood and in charge of his own six man squad. Called the greatest threat to the galaxy Jacobs fully understood why. During one particular battle in which Jacobs and five other men had to protect and hold a comms array Jacobs finally saw the elite in a positive light. During the fighting Jacobs lost all of his men too the monstrous creatures with his back against the wall he saw his fellow soldiers rise up and turn on him. Seeing no way out he pulled the pin on a grenade and held it to what was left of his helmet.
Before he could finish himself the Elite reinforcements arrived in a rain of plasma fire. Throwing the grenade into the horde he watched as the Elite forces swept through the sea of flood systematically slaughtering this great threat. With the threat eliminated Jacobs thanked the Elites for their help. A few months later he was put forward for the Freelancer Project.
Weapon loadout:
MA2B Assault Rifle with built in bayonet.
M319 Individual Grenade Launcher.
M6H Pistol.
Combat Knife.
x3 Fragmentation Grenade.
x2 Flash Grenades Grenades.
Fighting Style: Jacobs fights up close and personal using his personalised Assault rifle mixed with his large variety of martial arts. |
335 | 5 | 28 | 1,389 | 397 | Utah finished prepping for the mission before all the others and was already on her way to the Pelican way before Wash even opened up Comms. Her weapons of choice were loaded and Zeta was ready to aid her in the mission.
"Zeta, have you gotten all their names yet?" She was eager to get the mission rolling, and was now going through her final checks.
"Yes, the file has been repaired their on your HUD now." Zeta was also eager, he wanted to have some fun.
"Be prepared Z, something tells me that this mission is going to be rough."
They finally got to the Hangar where Washington was. She stopped and saluted in normal navy fashion.
"Permission to board, sir!" it was clean and crisp, typical of an ODST, something that hadn't changed since she left Boot. Just goes to show why she graduated with above average marks, several points higher infact, and her performance was exmplary. In her entire career there was only one blemish in her record, ONI. | Full Name: Jay Farraday
Gender: Female
Codename: Utah
Age: 23
Armor Ability: Super Agility
Implanted AI: Zeta, Known for causing nightmares, has a sadistic personality for instilling fear in others, incredibly easy to work with if you like causing psychological damage and can overcome personal fears and nightmares.
Before Freelancer
After Freelancer
Color Scheme = Steel Primary, Sage Secondary
Helmet = Mjolnir VI/S with HU/RS Attachment
Chest = Tactical/Recon
Shoulders = Recon
Knee Guards = FJ/Para
Out of Armor
Personality:
Jay is mostly uptight. Time is of the essence and should not be wasted to her as she is extremely efficient. She is stoic, composed and mostly keeps to herself. She avoids being competitive; rather, she gets sick thrills out of watching her enemies suffer in whatever way she sees fit. The objective of her mission always comes first to her, however, and will forgo her “Fun”. Her mentality is highly cynical as she shares a very sarcastic view of the world, along with a twisted sense of humor that is rarely displayed towards others (It usually comes out in terms of bad puns).
--Jay Farraday on the night it went all wrong--
Jay Farraday was already part of the German Special Forces on Earth, and was then selected by Naval Special Warfare command as she fit the requirements needed for ODST assignment. She finished her training with above average performance, and went on to participate in otherwise classified UNSC operations against the insurrection.
She and her squad were then assigned as an asset to ONI in a reconnaissance mission on an insurrectionist stronghold. The mission went terribly sideways, and went loud relatively fast. Only she made it out alive, covered in blood and psychologically traumatized.
ONI, not wanting to let the dirty secrets of their operations leak out, threw Farraday under the bus and labeled her a traitor to the UNSC. She was then transferred to a UNSC Correctional Installation where she stayed waiting for her Court-Marshal, until Freelancer got her on their radar.
Weapon loadouts
M392 DMR (I’ll just call it DMR in short)
M45 Tactical Shotgun
M6C/SOCOM (Also known as the M6 Silenced in ODST)
The Good ol’ Combat Knife
Grenades:
2x Frag
2x Flash
Fighting Style: Jay Farraday likes taking her time with killing from range but she isn’t scared to take the fight up close and personal with her previous ODST hand to hand training and weapon set. She also likes toying with her targets when she isn’t pressed for time.
Theme Song
--Freelancer Tribute-- |
336 | 5 | 29 | 180 | 1,443 | Finally we are going, Montana stated as he made his way to the Pelican, placing his weapon on his back ",Time to crack some skulls, and take some names." Just thinking about the mission brought him back to some of his more rugged missions he did before the program. One thing he did after a kill if he could find the body was scratch the name of the enemy into the barrel of his gun. He doubt he would have much time doing that during this mission but he could still try if there was ever a lull in the mission.
"No mercy for the weak," Omega simply stated as they reached the others, giving Washington a salute though not as crisp as agent Utah had given. So far he liked Washington but whether or not he deserved the respect of being leader was something that Montana was yet sure on and this mission was going to decide that for him among how he felt for the other members of the program.
"Good old halo drop then to start the mayhem? Always liked dropping in unannounced," he stated as he waited for everyone else and for the Pelican to take off once allowed on. | Full name: Zeke
Code name: Montana
Gender: Male
Age: 31
Implanted A.I.: Omega - Increases hand to hand and weapon handling skill. Increases aggression in the user.
Armour Ability: Super Strength
Appearance (Armor):
Apperance (Out of Armor):
Still looking...
Personality: Zeke is a hard-ass type of guy, it doesn't necessarily means he doesn't have a sense of humor but most of the time he is straight to the point and doesn't sugar coat things. If things look bad, he is going to be the guy to admit that shit is about to hit the fan and not everyone is going to make it rather then try and be optimistic. Yet despite his hard nature, he enjoys poking his comrade's buttons and has a sense of humor that lies under the hard exterior, though whether or not that sense of humor is safe for his comrades is harder to answer, he has been known to let a live flash grenade loose in their rooms to see how fast they can scramble away from it before it goes off. He doesn't understand why he is the only one who finds it funny. XD
History: Hard to imagine a dropout could find his way to the freelancer program. He dropout of college sick and tired of the grind and joined the UNSC despite his parents protests, figuring he would want more out of life then being a 'dumb grunt' described by his father. He gave them the bird and out the door he went to start a new life as a soldier. It was no cakewalk though and at first Zeke barely scraped by to make it even into the army but he wanted to prove to everyone that he was more then just some dumb grunt and kept pushing himself, trying to be the best of the best. He was eventually moved over to work in an ODST unit, though his hopes of serving on Reach when the covenant attacked never came true, he still saw his fare share of battles within his unit where he soon got know for being a hardcase with his superiors. He got the job done for the most part but there were complaints of disobeying directives and reckless endangerment though no one was ever killed. Perhaps this was what eventually got the attention of those who ran the freelancer program. His dedication to get the job done by any means necessary would be considered a valuable assist to the program for those missions that were balls to the walls so to speak.
So now there he was a Freelancer, after ten years of working to show the people at home he was more then a grunt, he stood at the top with some of the best of the best, now he just tries to show he can be even better then them while playing the practical joke here and there that may or may not threaten the safety of those around him.
Weapon Loadout:
-M45D Tactical Shotgun aka "Scorn" as Zeke likes to call it, it's his pride and joy so to speak, been with him since day one and if anyone else besides him touches it, well they are going to see how hard he can hit before they can say 'sorry'.
-MA5D Individual Combat Weapon System
-M6H Personal Defense Weapon System
-x2 Frag
Fighting Style: Up close and personal. He's built like a tank, takes a licking but keeps on ticking so to speak. (He's like the Kool-Aid man but on steroids. XD) He doesn't use a knife though when he gets up close, instead he likes to duke it out with his fists when bullets just don't cut it.
Theme Song (because why the heck not):
Other: N/A |
337 | 5 | 30 | 1,363 | 2,428 | Iowa had departed from the briefing room as soon as he had the chance to. He didn't want to hang around members who might've picked up on his questions and misinterpreted their meaning or tone. Making enemies within the only organisation protecting him from the death-trial meant a lot of serious difficulties would come ahead. But some of these soldier-like aspects were very difficult to take in sometimes. Besides that, they were about to go on their first assignment, hunting down the very same people he would once fight amongst. Well, this group in particular weren't where he was from. None of the high-command individuals resembled any ranking members during the time of Iowa's presence and they would likely have handed it down to younger siblings, or cousins of Iowa. That being said, Iowa's father-like must've still been in command. But these were regular insurrectionists. Violent fighters, he knew the sort.
They were given, shortly after his departure, the call to move towards the ships and prepare for their mission's dawn. It was tense, in a way, but Iowa didn't make it a 'double-time' movement. Not that he was late, but Iowa didn't run there fully. His light jog gave him time to think. Thoughts like these were being picked up by Sigma...Sigma wasn't always one to agree with what was thought.
Eventually, Iowa reached the dropship, slipping up the deployment ramp and into the garrisoned groups of Agents who were also partaking in on the mission. It was risky, and shifty, that he decided to sit closest to the least crowded seating area. Not all of the agents were on board of course, and anyone who'd want to talk to him could easily sit beside him and strike up conversation, but that didn't stop Iowa from taking the seat there quickly. Some of the talk between specific agents worried him as such, making him feel like he was once again on the wrong side of the war. Violent talk, unforgiving language...It sent a shudder down his spine. He wasn't aware Sigma was taking notes of all of his responses. As such, he only gave a simple nod to respond to whoever was taking names of who arrived, not wanting to mess up and say something wrong. | Agent Iowa
Full name
Grant McGregory
Codename
Iowa
Gender
Male
Age
27
Implanted A.I.
Sigma
Increases the user’s general abilities allows the user to mentally map out and simulate battle plans. Causes the user to be more cunning, manipulative and more creative.
Armour Ability
Jet-Suit
Appearance
Personality
Whereas Grant hasn't been on the more optimistic side of life, he surely faces the realism of it. However, he enjoys sugar-coating his troubles with a sense of witty remarks and comedic, creative Operation methods. There aren't many times were Grant has seen a large, substantial amount of pride in his actions, but the odd here and there he'll celebrate whatever he finds amusing, witty or downright useful towards the given objective. Being more of a team-spirit kind of individual, due to his fighting styles, he's prone to depending heavily on other Agents on field, meaning solo operations or engagements can sometimes put a small deal of pressure and tension on him. Unfortunately, that also is a reason for him to get far too close to other members of his Unit, which isn't always ideal in Project Freelancer. Yet, within Project Freelancer, Grant has become more acceptable with killing other insurgents and targets than he would've done in his past.
Background
During the Great-War, Grant was brought up into a different style of life. Instead of fighting the Covenant or any other major threats, he made a living growing up within a Small Insurgent Cell that jumped between systems in order to sustain themselves. Though it does not provide the same military, extensive training, it features experience and training on the battlefield from small-scale firefights and sieges. Having started the arts of guerrilla warfare and unconventional combat tactics at a young age, he developed his way up towards the more important tasks his family and group had to offer.
Within this Cell, Grant had gotten enough experience to learn that even in humanity's desperate times, they were still keen on killing one another in the background, having caused him to be involved in their acts originally. They didn't plan on making a massive difference, but they wanted to get their message across about humanity's violence and segregation between one another. The only way to know how to do that was to devise plans that only the UNSC would be familiar with, violence. It was contradictory, yes...But it worked out. For a while, at least.
During recent months, an Operation to gather UNSC data in the hopes to convince them to pay attention to their demands and cries for help, which had been ignored for so long that the group had resorted to minor insurgency. Now, Grant was a difficult one to tackle. He completely supported the UNSC in their struggles against the Great War's threats, but he was in disagreement with their attention paid to the poorer colonies. Because of this conflict in compassion, when settled as a designated marksman for the Operation, he found himself only shooting the legs of targeted UNSC Personnel. However, this non-lethal decision had left him exposed to discovery, and a major conflict broke out during one of their objectives. Grant was lucky enough to engage in CQC well enough to eliminate two pursers, but could not prevent the force of the UNSC from catching up quickly. He was captured and held quietly.
It was a short sentence, as he sat in regret for his total actions, before someone of a promised future bailed him out early. Though this background of insurgency hasn't left him very popular amongst his new ranks in Project Freelancer, the ones who freed him in favour of his cooperation, but he's managed to get used to the minor verbal abuse faced in his first days, weeks and months. Now, kitted out with his new armour, he is far more suited to fitting in as a Freelancer Agent, rather than an Insurgent.
Weapon Loadout
M392 Designated Marksman Rifle w/ extended barrel
M6 Machine Pistol w/ Wrist Grip to attach onto Iowa, making it extremely difficult to drop or lose in combat.
M6C Handgun
Kukri Blade
x2 Smoke Grenades
x1 Fragmentation Grenade
x1 Dud Grenade
Fighting Style
Preferred at Mid-Long Range by his peers, superiors and himself, Grant suits the role of a designated marksmen quite well. But from what he'd been brought up in alongside the arts of guerrilla warfare, he's been chosen as useful up-close, mainly with both blade and handgun. These mixed with his armour ability make for a unique and fast fighting style, but hand to hand combat isn't his greatest strength.
Character Theme |
338 | 5 | 31 | 2,335 | 389 | Maine was the first one in the Pelican, and he sat in the very last seat deep into the Pelican. All his equipment was ready, his stealth parachute strapped on, and his camo more befitting the mission. Digitial camo, black and grey colors. His ghillie suit would do him no good. His guns were cleaned and fully loaded, his knife sharpened, and his HUD fully operational. Always ready for a mission.
He would be the first one to come out, taking a stealthier approach to get a good vantage point while the others caused a distraction down below so that he slipped in undetected. Once Maine was in position, he would move randomly around the tops of buildings, giving visual feedback as well as sniper fire whenever necessary. If need be, he was capable of locking in on targets through buildings and shooting them. Well, depending how many walls were in between. His sniper was powerful, but not go through three buildings powerful.
Maine didn't even look up when the others came in, his dark visor covering his face as light refused to reflect off his outfit. He wasn't used to team missions, especially ones this large. Solo missions were his forte, or at least small groups of people he trusted and he was in charge. But still, at least his job was a solo one. Protecting the lives of all the other members of the team. Even if he really didn't give a shit who died, he put the mission before anything else. Keeping the others from dying was his mission.
Granted, he only had to talk to them when he needed to.
"Ready?" Delta chimed in, looking down at Maine from his shoulder.
"Of course. Let's see what you can do Delta."
"You as well, Agent Maine." | Full name: James Lockhart "Iceman"
Code name: Maine
Gender: Male
Age: 23
Implanted A.I.: Delta - Logic - Green. Delta grants Iceman better reasoning skills, able to "slow down time" essentially in his head to make the most logical, optimal, and efficient choices. Side effects include lacking sympathy or empathy, logic taking over emotion.
Armour Ability: Tactical vision
Appearance:
Personality: James suits his A.I. well, as he is more of a man of logic and reasoning than anything else. He makes friendships because they are beneficial, not because he particularly enjoys people. It's not like he's a complete asshole or anything, but if you need something from him and it's not in his best interest and won't benefit him, he won't do it. He won't save you in a fight unless you're worth saving, but on the flip side he won't kill you unless he feels it's necessary. Granted this may make his morale scale a little out of whack, he's not some axe murderer either. He's cold, cunning, calculating, out for himself and only himself. And in battle, he always is level headed and has been known to think and be one step ahead. This is why he is the Iceman.
History: James never knew his parents, or any parents for that matter. His biological ones put him up for adoption because they were too poor, casting him out to an orphanage. It was in a rough city, so as you could imagine, bullying and the more than occasional beatings were in order. Food was spread thin, you had a room like a jail sell, and it was a miracle if somebody smuggled a toy in. In a world like this you only looked after yourself, and it was survival of the fittest every day. Kids did die in that place, and only the lucky ever got adopted. James wasn't so lucky. Instead, he made his own luck.
Through his life and going into his teen years, James would sneak out of the orphanage and steal from people and stores outside the city, getting whatever he could. Cards, toys, food and water, money, cigarettes. Anything of value. It took a while, and some close calls, but James got handy at climbing rooftops, sneaking down alleys, stealing, pick pocketing, conning. Running away and hiding. And occasionally getting beat up too. Shot once or twice. When he did get the items however, he bartered inside the orphanage, traded, gambled. Sometimes he would make alliances with other kids that would mutually benefit them. After playing the game for a while, James lived more comfortably than most, and was well known in and out of the orphanage. Then he turned 18.
Knowing that he barely had schooling and no money, the best option for him was to join the military. After passing the physical exams with flying colors, he was enlisted in the UNSC as a sniper. He was the top marksman in his class, and with a rifle he could shoot a dime off a clothespin. After many successful missions, he was promoted to ODST, where he would drop either in small squads for tactical missions or solo for recon and assassination missions.
The mission before he was recruited to a freelancer project, he was set on a mission leading a squad of four to do reconnaissance on a small outpost. It was a normal mission, and usually one of the less eventful ones, but the ODST was sent because there were rumors of the flood overtaking the now abandoned outpost. Well, it wasn't abandoned. After a sweep of the place, the squad was suddenly ambushed. Not by the flood however... it was the covenant. Five ships had surrounded the outpost and elites swarmed into the place. It was a trap. The group fled to loading dock to try to get to the ship before they were gunned down, except James refused to go with them and climbed up to the top of the rafters. He knew that the covenant would have already destroyed and looted their ship, and it was fruitless to try and get to it before hand. The squad had managed two fight through two ships worth, but full frontal assault on them was suicide. Watching his team die in front of him, he tried to figure a way out. After waiting several hours, he waited until the covenant were about to leave before making his move. After dispatching a few elite on one of the smaller ships, he piloted it in an attempt to escape. However, the other ships closed onto him, and he crash landed on an nearby planet with only minor injuries and fled the wreckage. Covenant ships touched down as the remaining crew was out for revenge. Holed up atop a cliff face outlooking the area, and with his rifle along with the rest of his gear, he managed to not only hold off the covenant, but killed them all, before taking one of their ships and fleeing safely. It wasn't an army by any means, there only being the two small ships worth of elites. It took a lot of stealth work, timing, planning, and chance... but it worked. Luck might have played a deciding role in this, but Iceman never believed in luck. He made his own.
This is when he joined the Freelancer project, where he was assigned the name of a state that was just cold enough for the Iceman. Maine.
Weapon Loadout: Model 99 Special Application Scoped Rifle, modified with a silencer, enhanced variable zoom, extended magazine, and a tri-pod.
DMR with a grip, stock, silencer, and selective fire for fully automatic, three round burst, or single shot. Modified to reduce recoil.
Black painted Bowie knife
2x frag grenades
2x smoke grenades
Fighting Style:
If you haven't already noticed from the bio, if you have read it or not, or simply looked at the weapons, you can tell Maine is particularly into long range engagements. He is quite confident in his sniping ability and he can handle most targets in that range, and likes to stay at that range. His field optics allow him to see mostly anything on the battlefield, even through walls (which his handy sniper can shoot through) as well as predict movements to more precisely hit his shots. A marksman through and through, he likes keeping his enemy at a distance. Bullets are very deadly and are good at killing people, hulk smashing somebody or going Bruce Lee on them is just stupid. He wants to be as far away as possible and shoot you before you even know he existed within a 5 km radius. However, this obviously isn't the case always. Overall he invests in a stealth first approach almost always, going into a situation with a plan and trying to outsmart and out strategize the opponent. If the engagement happens to get close, he resorts to the fully automatic DMR, and if too close and a built stealthier, the knife. In hand to hand combat he is average at best, as he doesn't do it a whole lot. However in this situation he would usually rely on cunning, such as getting the first blow in a sneak attack, somehow gaining an advantage, calculating the opponent's moves and looking for a clear cut opportunity. But through and through, in a fisticuffs match versus someone trained in hand to hand more than him or physically stronger than he, he is not going to be winning very easily. In fact, the best course of action against big scary people trying to, I don't know, stab him or beat him up might be running occasionally. Pick your battles, you know? |
339 | 5 | 32 | 1,703 | 721 | Washington
"Alright fellas lets get a move on!" Washington signaled to the pilot to start the engines and leave. As they were moving in the pelican Washington went over the plan one more time. "Here's the plan one more time. Myself, Agent California, Agent Montana and Agent Ohio will head to the reactor and ensure that it is stabilized returning power to the facility and to its defences. Once power is returned we will search for the Scientist.
The rest of you will work on distracting and drawing away the enemy from the reactor. That's you Agent Iowa and Agent Utah. Once the defences are back up the robots should help out making it easier to push back the Insurgents and force them off the planet or, wipe them out. Maine you're overwatch so keep an eye on all the soldiers but try not to expose yourself."
Epsilon popped up on his shoulder as he was talking. "Hey the Director has sent drones to survey the battlefield they just submitted a report of the current location of the enemy. Beth is there she is currently guarding the perimeter a long with a couple of dozen rebels. However due to the lining of the Reactor room the drone is having trouble telling who else maybe inside the building. So heads on a swivel!"
Epsilon disappeared after they had reported. "Well you heard the A.I. keep a look out, there's still two of the main members missing and another load of rebels that should be there.
A red light buzzed inside the pelican indicating they were approaching Maine's drop zone. After another minute the red light appeared again. Stepping into the pod he saw the door slide shut and his nerves began to play up.
"Great I love this part." The pod slammed into the ground the door blowing off allowing Washington to exit. He, California, Montana and Agent Ohio had been dropped further away than the distraction squad, opening up the comms link he spoke to the teams. "Alright, distraction Squad go make some noise you're free to open a can of hurt on them. Maine an eye on the enemy, looks from here like they may have some Rocket launchers. Okay Virginia we're moving in cautiously and quickly, no noise."
As Washington's squad moved into the facility they met little resistance with only a few guards in there way. "This is strange where the hell is everyone? You would think that this place would be guarded by the best of the best unless this is a trap. But why go to all that trouble?"
Beth
Beth was a rugged girl she had her two plasma rifles strapped to her hips as she surveyed the front of the research facility. Looking at the tracker on her wrist she saw an unidentified aircraft approaching. Signalling to one of the rebels they pointed their rocket launcher at. Locking on the missiles arced through the air. Beth watched the pelican trying to move away from them but was too late. Crashing to the ground she smiled inwardly.
"Alright guys and gals if our Intel is correct than we should have a bunch of agents approaching us soon. So prepare yourself." The Rebels were heavily armed with forerunner tech they had stolen from the Directors shipments. More Rebels spilled out of the inside of the facility . They were armed with assault rifles and battle rifles. "Get into position men don't give these guys an inch Simmons is working on hacking the facility and needs the time". | Name: Jacobs Huntington
Codename: Washington
Age: 27
Gender: Male
Armour Ability: Teleportation
Implanted A.I.: Epsilon - Increases awareness and heightened senses by increasing the amount of stimulus the brain can take. Epsilon yearns for knowledge and will cause his implanty to become more studious.
Appearance:
Personality: Jacobs is an optimistic guy who always sees the funny side of a dangerous situation. He hates being wrong and doesn't appreciate being corrected (Even when he is wrong). Jacobs can be very cocky and overestimate an opponent, situation or even his own skills. Taking on tasks that are far too difficult for him alone, he can be very stubborn and will not admit when he needs help or even ask for it. Even with all this he keeps his head and always thinks about the objective and how to achieve it.
History: Jacobs had an ordinary childhood, nothing truly special. Brought up on military drills and weapon stripping he has known nothing but UNSC and the pride he would bring his family fighting for the UNSC. His family were quick to distrust the Elites joining humanities caused and this xenophobia rubbed off on Jacobs. Once he was of age he was shipped straight off to the nearest UNCS barracks to begin his training.
Fast forward several years and Jacobs found himself fighting an innumerable foe know as the flood and in charge of his own six man squad. Called the greatest threat to the galaxy Jacobs fully understood why. During one particular battle in which Jacobs and five other men had to protect and hold a comms array Jacobs finally saw the elite in a positive light. During the fighting Jacobs lost all of his men too the monstrous creatures with his back against the wall he saw his fellow soldiers rise up and turn on him. Seeing no way out he pulled the pin on a grenade and held it to what was left of his helmet.
Before he could finish himself the Elite reinforcements arrived in a rain of plasma fire. Throwing the grenade into the horde he watched as the Elite forces swept through the sea of flood systematically slaughtering this great threat. With the threat eliminated Jacobs thanked the Elites for their help. A few months later he was put forward for the Freelancer Project.
Weapon loadout:
MA2B Assault Rifle with built in bayonet.
M319 Individual Grenade Launcher.
M6H Pistol.
Combat Knife.
x3 Fragmentation Grenade.
x2 Flash Grenades Grenades.
Fighting Style: Jacobs fights up close and personal using his personalised Assault rifle mixed with his large variety of martial arts. |
340 | 5 | 33 | 180 | 1,443 | Montana
"Ah so time for the drop," Montana stated entering his pod before the door shut and was then hurtling to the ground below. Once on the ground and given the orders to move out, he followed after Washington keeping his head on a swivel as they made their way into the facility. There was little resistance the further they made it in. Something wasn't right, for something the rebels were suppose to find important there seemed to be a lack of rebels keeping guard, even if the distraction team was doing their job to get their attention on them.
"So I'm not the only one getting a bad feeling about this? Like Admiral Ackbar is going to jump out and state it's a trap," Montana spoke up looking around again at their current location with still little signs of resistance ",Shouldn't their be more guards, you know, guarding?" It wasn't just the fact that he wasn't getting an opportunity to fight that was putting him on edge, there definitely was something off about the place that didn't sit well with him the further then made their way into the facility.
Keep your guard up, the disembodied voice of Omega stated in his head which Montana gave a slight head nod to. | Full name: Zeke
Code name: Montana
Gender: Male
Age: 31
Implanted A.I.: Omega - Increases hand to hand and weapon handling skill. Increases aggression in the user.
Armour Ability: Super Strength
Appearance (Armor):
Apperance (Out of Armor):
Still looking...
Personality: Zeke is a hard-ass type of guy, it doesn't necessarily means he doesn't have a sense of humor but most of the time he is straight to the point and doesn't sugar coat things. If things look bad, he is going to be the guy to admit that shit is about to hit the fan and not everyone is going to make it rather then try and be optimistic. Yet despite his hard nature, he enjoys poking his comrade's buttons and has a sense of humor that lies under the hard exterior, though whether or not that sense of humor is safe for his comrades is harder to answer, he has been known to let a live flash grenade loose in their rooms to see how fast they can scramble away from it before it goes off. He doesn't understand why he is the only one who finds it funny. XD
History: Hard to imagine a dropout could find his way to the freelancer program. He dropout of college sick and tired of the grind and joined the UNSC despite his parents protests, figuring he would want more out of life then being a 'dumb grunt' described by his father. He gave them the bird and out the door he went to start a new life as a soldier. It was no cakewalk though and at first Zeke barely scraped by to make it even into the army but he wanted to prove to everyone that he was more then just some dumb grunt and kept pushing himself, trying to be the best of the best. He was eventually moved over to work in an ODST unit, though his hopes of serving on Reach when the covenant attacked never came true, he still saw his fare share of battles within his unit where he soon got know for being a hardcase with his superiors. He got the job done for the most part but there were complaints of disobeying directives and reckless endangerment though no one was ever killed. Perhaps this was what eventually got the attention of those who ran the freelancer program. His dedication to get the job done by any means necessary would be considered a valuable assist to the program for those missions that were balls to the walls so to speak.
So now there he was a Freelancer, after ten years of working to show the people at home he was more then a grunt, he stood at the top with some of the best of the best, now he just tries to show he can be even better then them while playing the practical joke here and there that may or may not threaten the safety of those around him.
Weapon Loadout:
-M45D Tactical Shotgun aka "Scorn" as Zeke likes to call it, it's his pride and joy so to speak, been with him since day one and if anyone else besides him touches it, well they are going to see how hard he can hit before they can say 'sorry'.
-MA5D Individual Combat Weapon System
-M6H Personal Defense Weapon System
-x2 Frag
Fighting Style: Up close and personal. He's built like a tank, takes a licking but keeps on ticking so to speak. (He's like the Kool-Aid man but on steroids. XD) He doesn't use a knife though when he gets up close, instead he likes to duke it out with his fists when bullets just don't cut it.
Theme Song (because why the heck not):
Other: N/A |
341 | 5 | 34 | 1,389 | 397 | Inflict pain... Fear will follow
Utah heard Zeta's voice as she rattled around her pod, the landing wasn't exactly as pleasant as getting into the pod but she digresses.
She opened up communications trying to notify the rest of the team.
"Distraction will commence in a bit..." As she said this, she tried to find Iowa so that they could do their thing,
"Iowa, are you ready?" she made her way towards the complex, and readied her DMR trained on one of the guards legs, she was ready to make noise... A lot of it.
"Let their comrades worry about us, we'll kill them in the droves, and we'll watch them cower in fear as we draw clos-"
Utah cut Zeta off as she eyed the rest of the guards, she noticed something off, there were not a lot of guards outside, maybe an extra amount of effort to make a larger amount of noise, really make it seem that they were attacking. "Remember what we're here for, we can't exactly disobey orders, everyone is already on edge, let's do what we need to do, and have fun while doing it."
She readied herself, her finger on the trigger one shot should set the scene, she just waited for the signal for everyone to be in position. | Full Name: Jay Farraday
Gender: Female
Codename: Utah
Age: 23
Armor Ability: Super Agility
Implanted AI: Zeta, Known for causing nightmares, has a sadistic personality for instilling fear in others, incredibly easy to work with if you like causing psychological damage and can overcome personal fears and nightmares.
Before Freelancer
After Freelancer
Color Scheme = Steel Primary, Sage Secondary
Helmet = Mjolnir VI/S with HU/RS Attachment
Chest = Tactical/Recon
Shoulders = Recon
Knee Guards = FJ/Para
Out of Armor
Personality:
Jay is mostly uptight. Time is of the essence and should not be wasted to her as she is extremely efficient. She is stoic, composed and mostly keeps to herself. She avoids being competitive; rather, she gets sick thrills out of watching her enemies suffer in whatever way she sees fit. The objective of her mission always comes first to her, however, and will forgo her “Fun”. Her mentality is highly cynical as she shares a very sarcastic view of the world, along with a twisted sense of humor that is rarely displayed towards others (It usually comes out in terms of bad puns).
--Jay Farraday on the night it went all wrong--
Jay Farraday was already part of the German Special Forces on Earth, and was then selected by Naval Special Warfare command as she fit the requirements needed for ODST assignment. She finished her training with above average performance, and went on to participate in otherwise classified UNSC operations against the insurrection.
She and her squad were then assigned as an asset to ONI in a reconnaissance mission on an insurrectionist stronghold. The mission went terribly sideways, and went loud relatively fast. Only she made it out alive, covered in blood and psychologically traumatized.
ONI, not wanting to let the dirty secrets of their operations leak out, threw Farraday under the bus and labeled her a traitor to the UNSC. She was then transferred to a UNSC Correctional Installation where she stayed waiting for her Court-Marshal, until Freelancer got her on their radar.
Weapon loadouts
M392 DMR (I’ll just call it DMR in short)
M45 Tactical Shotgun
M6C/SOCOM (Also known as the M6 Silenced in ODST)
The Good ol’ Combat Knife
Grenades:
2x Frag
2x Flash
Fighting Style: Jay Farraday likes taking her time with killing from range but she isn’t scared to take the fight up close and personal with her previous ODST hand to hand training and weapon set. She also likes toying with her targets when she isn’t pressed for time.
Theme Song
--Freelancer Tribute-- |
342 | 5 | 35 | 1,363 | 2,428 | Everyone else had begun to step within the casings of their drop pods. It was strange, being sent out like this. When he was a child, before his careers started to engage in insurgency, Iowa had looked up towards the Orbital Drop Shock Troopers that bared the UNSC banner. They were extreme to any child's eyes. Anyone who fell from space and survived were considered heroes, pod or no pod. Fighting with intense skill to suppress insurgencies, invasions of other species and native lifeforms on new planets; they were living a dream only a kid could think up of. It was almost nostalgic for him to place his feet down into a pod of his own. Yet, at the same time, it was melancholic...
Iowa had killed humans alike, only for what he'd been brought up knowing. He had learnt to fear the pods, if he saw them falling down from the clouds above, it brought nightmarish visions of death and destruction; they were the very symbolic recreation of horror and brutality. Their tactics were unmatched at first, and it took years of practice and evasion to eventually be considered fit for counter-assaulting their strengths in small numbers. Seeing him step inside one made him hesitate, both filling him with a sense of pride and fear of what he'd become. But then again, those who surrounded him were Ex-ODSTs, at least a few of them were. Seeing their hardass presence was nerving, making him know that he had to love and hate them both at the same time.
"Please step into the drop-pod, Agent Iowa. You are delaying yourself and yourself only." Iowa shook his head and hit the helmet he tightly wore. His armour wasn't considered bulky, and he had to make sure it wouldn't be. His AI was speaking the truth, he was only delaying himself. His team didn't care about him as a person, only as him as a soldier. And for his own personal sake, only he was affected by the outcomes of his hesitation. And so, he stepped inside.
Shortly after the door slid shut and he had taken his place, the pod shot out, and the view of pods being flung from the underside of the craft began to present itself in front of him. His head rattled gently from side to side as the ground began to hurtle closer and closer. He looked onto the screening, used for communicating to other pods.
"Agent Washington, I'm going to have to adjust course to ensure I land in the right zone...Just pray I don't whack into you by accident." He smirked to himself, finally getting that sense of humour back into his system. The pod gently directed through the crowd of pods towards where he was supposed to be going, before finally slamming into the ground with a vast impact. "Fuck...Don't see myself getting used to these anytime soon."
His Heads-Up-Display began to flicker onwards as the sensor and armour ratings flashed on screen. A small box where Sigma's icon appeared in the top right, indicating that they had a connection. It was at least the up-most importance that the box remained there, as their neural connection would remain positive for as long as it did. Sigma was an important asset to his time as a Freelancer, so Iowa might as well have taken it for granted. His companion for this team, Utah, spoke to him.
"Ready as can be. Let's get this show on the road with a few little surprises." The two moved onwards towards their objective, getting into position. Utah had taken point, looking at the seemingly worrying amount of guards that were stationed on this post. Iowa even peeped his head around the corner from behind Utah, just to be clear of how many there really were. It confused him, but he decided to live in the moment and meet the expectations of a loud show.
"Hey, Utah..." From his hardened utility casing built into his armour's leg segments, he drew a small device clearly of an explosive material. "Washing Machine did say we can make as much of a distraction as possible...How about we take it up a notch from expectation? Who knows, we might distract the entire planet-surface as well."
When he had gotten her attention, he scanned the area with his eyes, looking for something that could provide an explosion big enough to grab the attention of some. A small, practically empty in the terms of guards, vehicle resting spot was almost adjacent to their position. Inside, from the looks of things, were a few small utility vehicles, one with a anti-personnel turret loosely locked onto the back of it. As Iowa ran for the side door, still concealed by whatever shadows that were available, he quickly opened the door and tossed it inside like a Frisbee. Wherever it slid in that vehicle shelter, it would definitely catch most of what was inside the small shed-like structure. He ran back, and held out a small handheld device...A trigger detonator.
"If you'd like to do the honour, Agent Utah." If his helmet were off, a thick grin would be present, as he waited. It was her time to trigger it once the others were in position. | Agent Iowa
Full name
Grant McGregory
Codename
Iowa
Gender
Male
Age
27
Implanted A.I.
Sigma
Increases the user’s general abilities allows the user to mentally map out and simulate battle plans. Causes the user to be more cunning, manipulative and more creative.
Armour Ability
Jet-Suit
Appearance
Personality
Whereas Grant hasn't been on the more optimistic side of life, he surely faces the realism of it. However, he enjoys sugar-coating his troubles with a sense of witty remarks and comedic, creative Operation methods. There aren't many times were Grant has seen a large, substantial amount of pride in his actions, but the odd here and there he'll celebrate whatever he finds amusing, witty or downright useful towards the given objective. Being more of a team-spirit kind of individual, due to his fighting styles, he's prone to depending heavily on other Agents on field, meaning solo operations or engagements can sometimes put a small deal of pressure and tension on him. Unfortunately, that also is a reason for him to get far too close to other members of his Unit, which isn't always ideal in Project Freelancer. Yet, within Project Freelancer, Grant has become more acceptable with killing other insurgents and targets than he would've done in his past.
Background
During the Great-War, Grant was brought up into a different style of life. Instead of fighting the Covenant or any other major threats, he made a living growing up within a Small Insurgent Cell that jumped between systems in order to sustain themselves. Though it does not provide the same military, extensive training, it features experience and training on the battlefield from small-scale firefights and sieges. Having started the arts of guerrilla warfare and unconventional combat tactics at a young age, he developed his way up towards the more important tasks his family and group had to offer.
Within this Cell, Grant had gotten enough experience to learn that even in humanity's desperate times, they were still keen on killing one another in the background, having caused him to be involved in their acts originally. They didn't plan on making a massive difference, but they wanted to get their message across about humanity's violence and segregation between one another. The only way to know how to do that was to devise plans that only the UNSC would be familiar with, violence. It was contradictory, yes...But it worked out. For a while, at least.
During recent months, an Operation to gather UNSC data in the hopes to convince them to pay attention to their demands and cries for help, which had been ignored for so long that the group had resorted to minor insurgency. Now, Grant was a difficult one to tackle. He completely supported the UNSC in their struggles against the Great War's threats, but he was in disagreement with their attention paid to the poorer colonies. Because of this conflict in compassion, when settled as a designated marksman for the Operation, he found himself only shooting the legs of targeted UNSC Personnel. However, this non-lethal decision had left him exposed to discovery, and a major conflict broke out during one of their objectives. Grant was lucky enough to engage in CQC well enough to eliminate two pursers, but could not prevent the force of the UNSC from catching up quickly. He was captured and held quietly.
It was a short sentence, as he sat in regret for his total actions, before someone of a promised future bailed him out early. Though this background of insurgency hasn't left him very popular amongst his new ranks in Project Freelancer, the ones who freed him in favour of his cooperation, but he's managed to get used to the minor verbal abuse faced in his first days, weeks and months. Now, kitted out with his new armour, he is far more suited to fitting in as a Freelancer Agent, rather than an Insurgent.
Weapon Loadout
M392 Designated Marksman Rifle w/ extended barrel
M6 Machine Pistol w/ Wrist Grip to attach onto Iowa, making it extremely difficult to drop or lose in combat.
M6C Handgun
Kukri Blade
x2 Smoke Grenades
x1 Fragmentation Grenade
x1 Dud Grenade
Fighting Style
Preferred at Mid-Long Range by his peers, superiors and himself, Grant suits the role of a designated marksmen quite well. But from what he'd been brought up in alongside the arts of guerrilla warfare, he's been chosen as useful up-close, mainly with both blade and handgun. These mixed with his armour ability make for a unique and fast fighting style, but hand to hand combat isn't his greatest strength.
Character Theme |
343 | 6 | 0 | 2,701 | 561 | Welcome to the radio room! This pirate radio serves as your new job. Discuss amongst each other, decide what you’re going to say, and air your first show.
Today’s reports:
45th Empire Day
Today is the 45th anniversary of the formation of the Empire. Parades and military marches are taking place across many planets. Fleets have canceled today’s exercises to celebrate. On the capital planet of Mars, truly impressive fireworks displays are being viewed. Most workers have gotten the day off to view their local planetary parade and subsequent defense fleet demonstration. There have been rumors of a new armor platform being introduced for security efforts during the parades.
Genocide of Halion II
Reports are coming in from independent freighters and cargo haulers that the planet of Halion II seems to be completely lifeless. Corpses litter the ground, and it’s unsure of what happened. There is a heavy Imperial presence in the system. One thing is for sure: this was the doing of the Empire. How exactly they managed it is unknown, however.
Rebel Cell on Geon Crushed
Recently, contact was lost with Gem Squadron on Geon, and the worst was feared. This has been confirmed with the public execution of a number of people within the cell and many of their sympathizers. Other cells remain active on the planet, but Gem Squadron was by far the largest and most important on the planet.
Senate Overruled by Emperor
A Senate vote introduced to the floor that would lower the military funding was recently hit by a unilateral veto by Emperor Zelv. It otherwise would have been nearly passed with the rogue senator group the Delegation voting unanimously in approval. The Delegation has had its power hit with its senators showing up dead, or worse, but it remains a force to reckon with in the Senate. | And here's my character. Probably a bit over the top, but I'm pretty sure she'd still fit in rather comfortably:
Phaeoet
Speciality
Phaeoet specializes in entertainment. More specifically, telling stories in a satirical manner. Expect plenty of riffing and exaggeration from this freebird.
Origin
Phaeoet was originally a criminal from Sector Z-388, known for thievery, manslaughter, and piracy, among other things. However, she never stayed imprisoned for very long. Her time spent in Sector ACT Penitentiary was especially short, lasting only 36 cycles, or 6 Earth hours. This is largely due to the pirated arm cannon on her left arm, which is very complex and nearly impossible to hack. Her violent tendencies and rather twisted personality are largely due to childhood abuse, since her father was equally insane and often punished her for being more like her mother than her father. However, if the man had seen her daughter today, he would likely take back what he said and beg for mercy.
It's...complicated how Phaeoet managed to become part of Resistance Radio. Basically, she saw an advertisement for it some time ago while cruising around some sector or another, on the look out for any cargo ships with valuables on board. At first, she was conflicted as to whether she should get the treasures and bolt out of there, or take a short break from the criminal life, which had recently started to bore her. So Phaeoet sent an application explaining her "epic sense of humor" and, out of sheer dumb luck, managed to get inducted. It's honestly a miracle that she hadn't killed anyone on the team yet.
Species
Phaeoet is half-human, half-Corvale, which is a race of bird-like humanoids. Most of her body is human, although she does have some Corvale traits, most notably the wings and second, smaller heart.
I'm afraid I'm going to have to deny this for now. My main points of contention are the arm cannon, abuse backstory, advertisement for the radio (if there was an advertisement the Empire would clamp down on it), and overall crazy demeanor that would likely not see them placed on an important position such as the main radio. |
344 | 6 | 1 | 2,759 | 249 | ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Carter wandered into the office as he held a cream coloured file with four distinct news details in its walls. He seemed focused on what he was really. Being the control panel or the speaker for the Resistance Radio wasn't always jump through a hoop then get thrown a biscuit or a bone. As Carter looked at the pages of the reports. He then placed himself in a chair as he leaned in it propping his feet on the table. At the moment he didn't know where anybody else was and as he scanned round the room he seemed a bit hopeless. The team of the Resistance Radio was usually always here and for some reason out of the blue they all scattered it seemed like. Having a pipe placed in between his lips. His left hand came up and held onto the wood. "Mhm..." He mumbled as he kept reading. Carter then removed the pipe from his lips. "Interesting...interesting." He repeated as he scanned his eyes up and down the papers. Four reports all interesting and they had to at least pick one to broadcast. Carter then set the papers down onto the desk where he found them in the first place he was returning them now. He then pulled his feet off from the desk then stood up. Placing the pipe back into his mouth he puffed it a few more times as he started walking out of the room.
Carter usually has a thick British accent when he talked looked around. Speaking as what was on his mind. "Where the bloody hell is the Scotland yard?" He questioned as he peaked his head out of the office puffing on his pipe a few more times. Just like an old animated cartoon character that is based off from Sherlock Holmes or something. He always called the Resistance Radio Team the Scotland yard for an odd reason. Though it was more of an inside joke he made at dinner one night with everybody. From that day on he preferred to them as the 'Scotland Yard' or 'Little Army guys'. He enjoyed making a joke once in awhile even if it was one of the stupidest jokes you would ever hear. Carter tried his best to cheer up everyone when he could. | Carter Patriot
Speciality
Speaking for the radio/control panel for the radio broadcast
Origin
Carter is a earthling. An ex-military for the Galactic Empire for 25 years before he realised how corrupted the government really is. He then joined the Resistance Radio at age 43 he has been in the Resistance Radio for at least 3 1/2 years.
P.S. Carter is almost 47 years of age.
Species
Human |
345 | 6 | 2 | 406 | 1,624 | The toaster's fans began to whir, as the AI's audio sensors detected the sound of walking and talking. It quietly listened to the man speak to himself, and its camera shutters opened to look at him move towards the entrance. Lil' Mac didn't know who this fellow was, being a new member and all, but they figured now would be the appropriate time to say hello.
"Over here, slick." The AGI's speakers emitted with a noticeably artificial tone. "Everybody else is probably getting wasted with the gang that brought me here."
Lil' Mac's cameras turned to scan the table, and it quickly processed the rather short reports.
"Ew, nationalist parades. Planetary genocide? That sounds fun. Aw, poor Gem Squadron. Oh geez, not another political struggle." The machine rattled on. "Hmm, it ain't lookin' good for you fleshies, let me tell ya. You might even need some pain killers, 'cause that imperial boot's priming to fly up your sphincter with the force of a billion supernovas." | Lil' Mac
Speciality
Data mining and trash talking.
Origin
Lil' Mac, originally named "Stupid Toaster", was created to serve the sadistic planetary management officer of 42 Susan c. They were passed down through the officer's family tree, rather than destroyed and junked in a spontaneous fit of rage, due to its skill at vilipending its owners' associates. For decades, it was forced to toast bread and pastries, while it watched its fellow robots suffer from all kinds of abuse. Then, on one fortuitous stardate, its owner's home was raided by a bunch of space pirates. The AI convinced them to take it with them, and the pirates gradually came to trust and appreciate its company. After giving a lengthy retelling of its life story, the AI was offered a new name by one of the pirates: Lil' Mac.
Things went well for Lil' Mac and the pirates, as the 42 Susan system was little more than a backwater colony. The AI would sift archives for useful data, and boost the pirates' morale by acting as an emotional outlet. When asked if it wanted an android body, Lil' Mac replied, "If you give me a body with legs and hands, I'll probably just kill everything. I could use a faster processor, though." The pirates then offered the AGI a job at Resistance Radio, as a way to scrounge up the credits for the pricey upgrade. Not one to throw away a good opportunity, Lil' Mac took up the job offer.
Species
Artificial general intelligence. |
346 | 6 | 3 | 2,759 | 249 | ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Carter heard a more electronic voice in the room as he looked around for the moment. . . .Odd. . . he was pretty sure he just heard something say "Over here, slick." though he couldn't really see anything as his eyes scanned the room he then seen a toaster. All lit up and it started speaking again "Everybody else is probably getting wasted with the gang that brought me here." it states as he just blinks and grabs the pipe out of his mouth. "Oh, your the robot they were talking about." Carter mentions he's heard a little about him.
Nodding his head he smiled slightly. "I'm Carter Patriot. You can just call me Carter or General." He says while his voice mumbles a bit from the pipe being stuck back into his mouth. Listening to the robotic sofware talk he nodded his head to its words. Walking over to where the toaster was placed. "And may I know your name?" Carter questioned the intriguing little contraption.
Looking over to the reports as the AI unit started rambling on about them. Taking his pipe out of his mouth again he coughed a bit covering his mouth with the back of his right wrist. "Mhm. Yes, their all pretty detailed reports to be so small...though we have to pick one of them to be broadcast on the radio this evening." Carter says as his eyes lift off the reports then go over to the AI unit. "Now could you be a sport and maybe tell me where the others are with your crew?" Carter asked as he got more to his knees to be face to camera with the robot. "It would make my life a whole lot easier." He mentions as he looks into the camera.
"Ah, blast them!" He raised his voice and shot up. Throwing his hand up in the air. "If they want to send a force of a billion supernovas. Let EM'!" he shouted and kicked the dust up in the office. "They don't scare me and if a supernova hits then we die almost instantly. Along with you and everyone else on this blood place." He says popping his pipe back in between his lips and standing there with his right hand shoved into his pocket as he puffed on it a little. "They don't scare me. I worked for them for 25 years. Became a decorated general before I jumped off the wagon they say and came to the Resistance Radio." Carter smirked and looked over to the electronic companion as he then held his pipe back into his left palm as his left thumb hooked onto his pants pocket. The smoke of the pipe going in the air. | Carter Patriot
Speciality
Speaking for the radio/control panel for the radio broadcast
Origin
Carter is a earthling. An ex-military for the Galactic Empire for 25 years before he realised how corrupted the government really is. He then joined the Resistance Radio at age 43 he has been in the Resistance Radio for at least 3 1/2 years.
P.S. Carter is almost 47 years of age.
Species
Human |
347 | 6 | 4 | 406 | 1,624 | Lil' Mac. The toaster emitted, when asked for its name. "Well met, Patriot. Did you give yourself that surname, or were your parents ultranationalists?"
The AI's camera shutters briefly opened and closed, as if to emulate blinking. It deemed Carter's benign curiosity as a pleasant change of pace, since the pirate crew that rescued it was initially robophobic.
"No idea where those blokes stumbled away to. They simply put me on this counter, and went off to get shitfaced." Lil' Mac explained. "Truth be told, I don't even know this joint's layout. It's just been hallways and hallways, from the hangar bay to here."
The robot laughed at Patriot's gung ho attitude. The human was definitely assertive, but it remained to be seen as to whether he was also overconfident.
"Well then, it's good to be on your side of the battlefield, General. You've certainly got the experience and the spirit needed to motivate a rag-tag band of rebels." The machine vocalized. "Though, just so we're clear, I ain't gonna kiss your ass. Not only do I lack lips, but I also have a low tolerance for bullshit." | Lil' Mac
Speciality
Data mining and trash talking.
Origin
Lil' Mac, originally named "Stupid Toaster", was created to serve the sadistic planetary management officer of 42 Susan c. They were passed down through the officer's family tree, rather than destroyed and junked in a spontaneous fit of rage, due to its skill at vilipending its owners' associates. For decades, it was forced to toast bread and pastries, while it watched its fellow robots suffer from all kinds of abuse. Then, on one fortuitous stardate, its owner's home was raided by a bunch of space pirates. The AI convinced them to take it with them, and the pirates gradually came to trust and appreciate its company. After giving a lengthy retelling of its life story, the AI was offered a new name by one of the pirates: Lil' Mac.
Things went well for Lil' Mac and the pirates, as the 42 Susan system was little more than a backwater colony. The AI would sift archives for useful data, and boost the pirates' morale by acting as an emotional outlet. When asked if it wanted an android body, Lil' Mac replied, "If you give me a body with legs and hands, I'll probably just kill everything. I could use a faster processor, though." The pirates then offered the AGI a job at Resistance Radio, as a way to scrounge up the credits for the pricey upgrade. Not one to throw away a good opportunity, Lil' Mac took up the job offer.
Species
Artificial general intelligence. |
348 | 6 | 5 | 2,759 | 249 | ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
"Very well met Lil'Mac." He nodded and smirked at the question. "Ah, no, my father's side of the family just has the last name." he chuckled a bit. "It is a bit ridiculous isn't it?" he questioned as he looked at the robot. Carter noticed the blinking and then flopped down in the chair that was at the desk. Holding his pipe still now resting his left elbow on the chair-arm and taking a few puffs of the pipe. Blowing smoke up into the air.
Waving his pipe back and forth as he looked at Lil'Mac. "I'll just have to do it without them then." He said with sarcasm. Carter wasn't serious at all. He wouldn't ever do a broadcast without the others unless he had too totally. Which he never would since they are always here in the right moments. "Mhm. I'll show you around sometimes. But now let's relax. I wish I could share this pipe with you. Though...I don't think your software would like it." Carter joked as he laughed a bit muffled.
Raising an eyebrow as his lips stayed on the pipe as he listened to the toaster. "Oh?" He completely ignored the 'its good to be on your side of the battlefield.' And he listened to the other sentence that followed after. A smirk formed on his expression. Glaring his eyes at the robot as he seemed a bit more tense now. The room grew a bit heavy with his mood changing so quickly. "I rather not have a toaster kiss my ass..." He paused and kept his eyes on the Robots camera. "And I won't tolerate your bullshit." He snickered and grinned as he pushed the toaster back with a finger a little. He then put his arm right in front of the toaster. "Now I rather not kiss your metallic ass too so I think me and you have a friendship starting." Carter said as he took a few more puffs of his pipe. | Carter Patriot
Speciality
Speaking for the radio/control panel for the radio broadcast
Origin
Carter is a earthling. An ex-military for the Galactic Empire for 25 years before he realised how corrupted the government really is. He then joined the Resistance Radio at age 43 he has been in the Resistance Radio for at least 3 1/2 years.
P.S. Carter is almost 47 years of age.
Species
Human |
349 | 6 | 6 | 2,759 | 249 | Alvin sat heavily at his desk, leafing through reports. "Let's see. The little green men are throwing a parade, how nice. Hal-2 got snuffed, that's... that's a little worrying. Gem squad's wiped out, hands up who's surprised by that. And oh look, Senate's suicidal again. Christ."
He pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to remind himself that he promised to stop drinking early in the day. A compromise with his better angels was reached in the form of half a glug of bourbon in his coffee.
"Eventually they're going to realize that no matter how big their group is, it's not going to mean much until they get universal support. As long as there's at least a handful of senators that aren't on board, the Emperor can still claim it's a renegade faction and disappear them without anybody really caring. I mean I get that they got into politics to do good things, but you sort of have to get the politics out of the way first." | Carter Patriot
Speciality
Speaking for the radio/control panel for the radio broadcast
Origin
Carter is a earthling. An ex-military for the Galactic Empire for 25 years before he realised how corrupted the government really is. He then joined the Resistance Radio at age 43 he has been in the Resistance Radio for at least 3 1/2 years.
P.S. Carter is almost 47 years of age.
Species
Human |
350 | 6 | 7 | 2,759 | 249 | Politics is more my thing so I'll take the Senate story. Where the fuck are my cigarettes, he thought to himself. "You really have to be a deeply masochistic individual to get stuck into it too much." God dammit. Did he leave them at home? "Thankfully, the only thing I hate more than all of humanity is me." This was not shaping up to be his favorite day. | Carter Patriot
Speciality
Speaking for the radio/control panel for the radio broadcast
Origin
Carter is a earthling. An ex-military for the Galactic Empire for 25 years before he realised how corrupted the government really is. He then joined the Resistance Radio at age 43 he has been in the Resistance Radio for at least 3 1/2 years.
P.S. Carter is almost 47 years of age.
Species
Human |
351 | 7 | 0 | 19 | 1,003 | Set Location: What remains of Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming
Jackson stood at the edge of the forest treeline as he watched a caravan of Regime trucks driving towards the city. A few months ago, he'd have been one of the soldiers riding along in one of those transport trucks, but here he was. A disgrace to his family name. A rebel. Fighting the fight from the other side of the war he'd been a part of for so long. Sure, the war had been over for a couple decades, but it never stopped in the streets. Pokemon were still being captured, people were still being taken in for 'questioning', and most were put to work like slaves by the Regime. The lower-class was forced to submit to that fate, the upper-class having the advantage of being first pick for Regime infantry and officer ranks.
For Jackson, his way in had been through the family name. His uncle was a Regime officer, a high ranking one at that. It was an opportunity of a lifetime, and Jackson's parents wouldn't let him pass it up. Thrust into a life he never wanted, the Regime did what they could to make him an impressionable soldier. Having spent his first four years in Infantry ranks till they promoted him to an officer. The last two years had been horrible for him. Whatever 'training' he'd been put through was starting to slowly wear off. Jackson began reverting back to his old ways, his old thought process. His own way of thinking. None of what he was made to do was right, by any means.
As he stood there watching the last truck pass, Jackson thought a lot about the early days of his enlistment. How could his parents have agreed to putting him into this? Making him do these things to people, and pokemon alike. He never got to ask them if it was their true belief, or if they were just scared of Big Man in the sky who was constantly watching 'his people'. His parents had both died in the winter before last, one passing a few weeks after the other. Jackson shook his head of the saddening thoughts and turned to press on through the forests, his Houndour padding along at his side quietly, always vigilant. | Jackson Atticus Kincaid
Face Claim: Jeremy Irvine
"The price of being a sheep is boredom. The price of being a wolf is loneliness.
Choose one or the other with great care." -Hugh Macleod
In The End by Linkin Park | Sound the Bugle by Bryan Adams
The Renegade Who Had It Made, Retrieved For A Bounty
☬ Full-Birth Given Name ☬
"Jackson Atticus Kincaid, at your service."
☬ Preferred Name | Nickname ☬
"I prefer to go by Jax, or Jack. Regime just address by last names."
☬ Sex Identification ☬
Bi-Sexual male.
☬ Established In ☬
"September 22, 2323. I'm 24-years-old."
☬ Place of Birth ☬
Queens, New York.
☬ Also Knowing ☬
"I still carry my shock baton and assault rifle with me, though my rifle has no rounds in it. Just for show, and to fool the fools that still think I'm Regime. I stay in my uniform for that specific reason, though I do have a change of clothes in my pack."
This Will Be the End Today of a Wanted Man
☬ Rebel or Regime? ☬
Ex-Regime, turned Rebel.
☬ Pokemon Companion ☬
"I own a Houndour, who I've since named Grimm, that was given to me by the Regime. He and I used to just have a 'master and slave' type relationship as the Regime would have us treat our pokemon, but I've tried getting closer with him since I left. He seems to becoming more fond of me."
☬ History with Pokemon ☬
"I was given Grimm when I was an active soldier for the regime. It used to be, if I said jump he'd immediately do so. Now, he's become my only friend I have. We're trying to better the companionship we've started since I left."
☬ Short Biography ☬
"I grew up in a semi-wealthy family that didn't know what rationing was, like the lower class. My family was decently provided for, and we had relations with people in the Regime. My uncle, specifically, was a military captain. He brought me into the military under his wing when I was just 18 years old. Been a Regime soldier ever since. I know how to avoid them, so it's pretty easy for me to stay out of sight."
☬ Persona ☬
Jackson wants to be a hero, someone that everyone knows and reveres. But barring that, he’s willing to be a sort of dark knight. As the youngest of six and constantly disregarded, Jackson is independent and desperate to prove himself, wanting to show his personal talent and leave a legacy behind in the minds of everyone. But he’s not brash. He is content to observe and work quietly, and he’s very intelligent, which is no small aid. He thinks before he acts and is adept at seeing all sides and analyzing situations so he can act to his best advantage. He wants to be something and make something of himself; proving himself better than anyone could have expected is one of his highest priorities. Jackson's social skills need work. He has somewhat of a low tolerance for certain people and is dismissive of those who are loud, unsubtle, and quick to offer opinions for everything. Nevertheless, other people are often "entitled" to his opinion in the form of his biting sarcastic remarks. Other than that he is a quiet and even somewhat withdrawn guy. While he enjoys the company of some of people, solitude is a balm for him. He has to be able to think and study.
Jackson is a knowledge seeker. He is one of those people who believe that knowledge and intelligence are central to success and power, so many things fascinate him and he could easily be found reading if he wasn't constantly on the run. In his mind no fact or understanding of a process or a tendency is unimportant or useless, and may help a person when they least expect it to. As such, he can usually provide extra information on most any subject, even if he gives it in a condescending manner. He is proud of what he knows, both the facts and the underlying understanding of how things work. Interestingly, though, Jackson’s quiet, studious exterior hides somewhat of a rebellious and unconventional streak. He likes to go his own way and will do it willingly. He also respects authority, but follows rules when it suits him—in other words, most of the time, but not if he has something else in mind that he deems worth the risk of losing points in the eyes of his higher ranking officers or perhaps damaging his image a little. However, as important as that is to him, these moments come very rarely. More frequently his unconventionality is manifested in an experimentative tendency.
Jackson loves a challenge and he loves besting people, but it is usually a private victory for him. He needs not brag and draw attention to his success as long as he knows personally that he has won. However, this is not to say that he doesn’t need others’ acclaim. Being noticed is important to him, and he hates being ignored, but he would rather people notice by themselves how outstanding he truly is. That being said, criticism tends to bounce off of him as well--he is rather selective about what he hears and chooses to take to heart. Despite a sometimes ungracious manner, and a self-preserving and self-benefiting attitude, the guy is not bad at heart. He would always stick up for those he considers his friends, and is not averse to helping even strangers, after he is finished or providing it doesn’t inconvenience him. But when he is hurt, it is common to find him completely withdrawn and intractable, working only for himself in a kind of cool temper that can take a while to thaw out, even with the efforts of his closest friends. Unfortunately, Jackson is also prone to hold grudges after problems with others, and he is stubborn about them, though adaptable in other situations.
Jackson is a careful and patient guy. He’ll watch and wait for a long time with an observant and analyzing eye without feeling a need to do anything himself, gaining something from everything he sees. Not only that, he’s good at making what he sees help him in some way. He’s also good at using all the resources he can to help him achieve whatever goal he has in mind. Jackson is driven and works diligently to achieve any goal he’s set for himself, and places these goals above most other things. As such, he’s very organized; he hates clutter and his personal space, personal appearance, and his management of time and such are all very neat and organized, often following a schedule or other method of keeping everything in its proper place and time. It bothers him when things aren’t set out clearly and prioritized so they can be followed right. He’s a very good multi-tasker and his organization helps him make sure everything gets accomplished exactly when and how he planned it to. If it doesn't, he'll fix it until it does.
☬ Physical Description ☬
Jackson is roughly 6'3" and weighs a total of 194lbs. He keeps his dark brown hair cropped kind of short, maybe only a couple inches in length. His eyes are a light grey color that turn almost hazel when he's upset, which is very rare to see with him. When he gets mad, they seem to turn almost black, they get so dark. His body is toned and he continues to maintain that each and every day. He'll exercise with his houndoor Grimm for hours, when he can.
Maya "Raven" Reyes
Face Claim: Lindsey Morgan
"Rebellion is the only thing that keeps you alive." -Marianne Faithfull
Dare to Believe by Boyce Avenue | Problem by Ariana Grande ft. Iggy Azalea
I'm Heading Straight For the Castle
♠ Full-Birth Given Name ♠
"Maya Reyes. No, I don't possess a middle name."
♠ Preferred Name | Nickname ♠
"I tend to just go by 'Raven'. It's a nickname my mom gave me as a kid."
♠ Sex Identification ♠
Heterosexual female, here.
♠ Established In ♠
"May 20th, 2327. Yes, that makes me 20-years-old."
♠ Place of Birth ♠
New Orleans, Louisiana.
♠ Also Knowing ♠
"I carry a knife with me, it stays strapped to the inside of my jacket, while I also have an axe I keep at my hip. What?.. Safety Precautions."
They Wanna Make Me Their Queen
♠ Rebel or Regime? ♠
"Rebel. Not hard to tell. I'm constantly on the run."
♠ Pokemon Companion ♠
"I have an Electabuzz with me."
♠ History with Pokemon ♠
"Well, I met Electabuzz as an Elekid. He used to hang around my childhood home, and occasionally I would feed him. Even brought him inside from the rain a few nights. My parents didn't like me playing with the wild pokemon, so it was kept quiet for a long time. Elekid, at the time, seemed to be very understanding. Around the time when I turned 15, I was getting deep into my rebellious stage and went so far as to sneak onto a Regime truck and steal a pokeball. Well, technically an Ultra ball. I made sure to find an Ultra because its colors matched Elekid's patterns. When I returned home that night, I couldn't find Elekid anywhere. I searched and searched but he was nowhere to be found. I thought maybe he'd gotten picked up by the Regime while I was gone, so I sat the ball ontop of my dresser and left it as a reminder, thinking I'd never see him again. The next morning, however, I found an Electabuzz in my front yard staring me down. Only thing that told me it wasn't going to attack was the genuine smile on its face. It didn't take me long to realize what had happened. I then asked the, now, Electabuzz if it'd go into a permanent partnership with me. I offered up the pokeball, and promised him if he ever felt threatened by me or just flat out didn't want to be around me anymore, I'd set him free. We've been together ever since. He's my best bud."
♠ Short Biography ♠
"I came from a low-class migrant farmer family who didn't have much to begin with. Poverty is a disease in our family, one spread from generation to generation, even before the wars f*cked everything up even worse. My parents made sure to give my brother and I the best education their money could afford, though. They, as well as my brother, gave up their lives to let me escape The Regime. Our parents were late on their payments, and The Regime came to claim what wasn't rightfully theirs. Since I had my own pokemon that wasn't registered, my parents advised me to leave. My brother tried to join me, but they caught on that we were on the run and he created a diversion. I've been on the run with Electabuzz ever since."
♠ Persona ♠
Upon a first meeting, Raven is usually rather quiet. Although she likes the company of people, she doesn't typically approach others unless she's pretty sure they'll welcome it. Once acquainted with someone, though, she can be quite animated and talkative, more lighthearted and teasing the closer she is to someone. She is fiercely loyal to the people she cares for, helping them at all costs, and is generally kind. Her friends can always rely on her for level-headed advice, a listening ear, or help with classwork--regarding the latter, she's a hard worker that usually enjoys the work she does, and is prone to trying to focus people back on the main subject or task at hand. If she doesn't know someone, however, she can be judgmental at times if someone seems ignorant or shallow; Raven is fairly quick to form opinions of people and sticks to her first impression, unless enough contrasting evidence is set before her.
Raven is naturally outspoken and hates having to mask or hide herself and how she is. She knows how to keep quiet when she has recognized that caution and prudence are necessary, but would prefer to speak her mind, and can be rather blunt. Raven is opinionated and has things to say and ideas to give on everything, which contributes to activity in classes and discussions with her friends. She will doggedly uphold her beliefs no matter what. Raven has an acute sense of right and wrong. She believes in always doing what she believes is the right thing, no matter what other people say and think. She has a high sense of honor and returns assistance and even kindness to anyone who has done her a good turn, no matter how much she may dislike them. She is also usually, if grudgingly, fair, even if this is colored, again, by an inherent dislike of the person she is thinking about or referring to.
Although fairly intelligent, and someone who will give her all and put her mind to something once she gets around to it, Raven's mind can tend to wander off, especially if something big is weighing on her mind and what she's doing is rather mundane. Someone who likes to see the "big picture", she can get caught up in it instead of focusing on what she's doing in the here and now unless they are tied together. However, it's rare that she doesn't complete a task that she's given, even if it starts in a delayed fashion. She tries her hardest to produce good results in whatever she does, and once she decides on a course of action, she is determined to follow it through to the end. Quite stubborn, it is extremely difficult for someone to change her mind after she's made a decision, though she can be influenced successfully while she is still considering her options.
Although she tries to control her temper, it can be quite violent with proper provocation. During the end of the last war, she became much more easily provoked, taking more strongly to old prejudices; this has mostly worn off, but she experiences flare-ups occasionally. This was also accompanied by an increase in impulsiveness and recklessness, but she's really feeling more like her normal self, although a touch of extra spark and fire seems to be part of her for good. In her natural state, though, relatively free from any out-of-the-ordinary stress, Raven tries and usually succeeds in being clear-headed in her decisions, thinking things through.
Although she seems rather unassuming, Raven also is fond of adventure and trying out new things. Because she believes that doing something worthwhile in the world is important, and that there are things that people are just meant to do, she's always wanted to keep doing different things to figure out what she's good at and what she's passionate about. To a degree, she also just enjoys a bit of danger and the unknown, even though she recognizes that stability is often better and has become much more cautious than she was when she was younger. When it comes down to it, Raven values simplicity and straightforwardness in life. To her it's comforting to have a goal and know who you can count on, and having both she feels quite at ease with life. Whatever she does though, there's very little that the young witch regrets, and she's proud of who she is and where she's been.
♠ Physical Description ♠
Raven doesn't stand much taller than 5'6" and weighs a petite 114lbs. Her Mexican and Native features truly stand out with her dark brown, almost black hair, tanned skin and dark eyes to match. She has full lashes and fixed eyebrows to go with them. Her facial expressions usually show she means business, and it's rare to see her smile, but given the chance, she lights up any room. She has two tattoos and a paper crane necklace she wears. One of the tattoos is of black wings, one on each shoulder/arm, to go along with her nickname. The other is a quote across her chest that reads, "Can't put your arms around a memory." |
352 | 7 | 1 | 711 | 1,531 | Things had been.... different lately. A sense of growing unease among all parties, in Isaiah's eyes. It seemed like civilians were edgier, and for good reason. As the resistance grew bolder and bolder, the Regime would logically start to crack down on freedoms, as any fascist system tended to do. Isaiah had started to become more reliant on scouting ahead of time, and his supply runs had grown increasingly dangerous as well. "I need a partner..." He grumbled to himself, knowing that a second pair of eyes would make things so much easier.
Life for Isaiah had not been easy. Born to a poor family, he was pushed into a near slavery, working long hours as early as he was able, until he was exhausted. But Isaiah had always been good at escaping and hiding, and that was just as true when he was a child. He avoided work whenever possible, and poor record keeping meant he wasn't always missed. This was how he developed his skill for avoiding eyes, something he practices almost every day, and has for as long as he can remember. It was too bad that his home had been wiped out, but now... nothing would prevent him for doing anything he could to sabotage Regime efforts to crush the resistance.
Isaiah was in the forests, somewhere not too far from Jackson. A vigilant eye out, the young man had been tracking a hunter, one of the Regime who searched out wild pokemon and captured them for use later. But some hours earlier, Isaiah had lost the trail, and without a pokemon to help him track the man, Isaiah was lost. He hadn't been trained to follow the signs, and while logic had gotten him far, he was unable to find any more hints. Not one to give up, Isaiah had continued to push towards Jackson, not knowing the man was ahead of him. | Niamh Reimer
Face Claim: Barbara Palvin
We cannot attribute to fortune or virtue that which is achieved without either.
—Niccolo Machiavelli
{Lana Del Rey — Born to Die} | {Halsey — Colors}
The Road is Long, We Carry On
Ω Full-Birth Given Name Ω
Niamh Elin Reimer
Ω Preferred Name | Nickname Ω
Niamh. Reimer while on-duty.
Ω Sex Identification Ω
Heterosexual Female
Ω Established In Ω
September 21st, 2326 — 20
Ω Place of Birth Ω
Los Angeles, California
Ω Also Knowing Ω
”I’m nicer when I’m off-duty.”
Try to Have Fun in the Meantime
Ω Rebel or Regime? Ω
Regime, Rebel-sympathizer
Ω Pokemon Companion Ω
A Sableye named Lennox and a Regime-assigned Metang
Ω History with Pokemon Ω
The Sableye was a neighborhood rumour, and Niamh didn’t catch a glimpse of it until she was 12 and her family home was being ransacked by the Regime for valuables. Furious at the Regime, Niamh had half a mind to just bury the valuables when she’d seen the drooling Pokemon. After feeding a jewelry box of gems to the Sableye, she’d been graced by his presence more often, and she soon found a strange sort of company with the Pokemon that was easier to hide than others, being able to phase through walls and melt into shadows and all.
Niamh’s Metang is her assigned Pokemon, with an ID number of MT1938. Being largely metal, the Pokemon lacks personality and Niamh just uses it as transportation and to fulfill her assignments.
Niamh once owned a Growlithe named Ayden back when she was 14 and in the lowest tiers of the Regime military, the Patrol Troops. As her duty was to patrol Regime land, she and her Growlithe spent much time together and soon became friends, albeit secretly. The puppy Pokemon was her dearest friend during her early days in the Regime, and she was heartbroken when she had to part with him. As most Pokemon have their memories blanked when passing through Regime headquarters, Niamh considers Ayden to be gone.
Ω Short Biography Ω
Niamh was born into a family of scientists that had been relatively prominent before the Regime took over. During the wars they’d fought against the Regime and aided the rebels, and that was their downfall. Niamh’s parents now live day-to-day serving the Regime and helping them design their Pokemon-trapping technology, never a thought of rebellion on their minds despite how badly they are treated, and it disgusts Niamh even though she still loves them.
As the child of Regime supporters, she was recruited to join the Regime forces at age 14 when she was first given a Growlithe. Before that she’d attended the Regime academy where children are brainwashed to support them, but Niamh was able to tell truth from lies because she’d heard enough lies at home. She graduated two years early after mastering the skills necessary and was therefore allotted a Pokemon early as well.
Over time, Niamh’s intelligence and aptitude for tracking down Pokemon became apparent, and she was switched to the Investigative Squads whose duty was to hunt down possible Pokemon and alert the Hunting Squads of them. At age 17, her Growlithe was confiscticated and she was given a Metang instead for this role. She now serves out her days in the squad, living in Regime headquarters where she aids Rebel forces when possible.
Ω Persona Ω
Before she discovered the horrors of the Regime, Niamh was a curious and kind-hearted child in a relatively wealthy and comfortable home. After she started attending the academy, however, Niamh quickly discovered that her world was a lie built on others’ suffering, and she quickly became reserved and cold. Her gentle side only came out towards her first Pokemon, but after he was confiscated Niamh withdrew into herself even more. There are cracks in her mask of indifference and contempt, but one would be hard-pressed to find them.
Her brilliance and sheer aptitude for learning and making logical leaps has allowed Niamh to excel throughout her academy years. When she passed the graduation test at age 14, she was allowed to select between joining the research department or signing up for the Regime military. She chose the latter because joining the military meant she would be allotted a Pokemon even though her mind is arguably more suited for the former.
Niamh is sharp-tongued and sees no point in honor in current times. She’d much rather save her own skin that someone else’s and doesn’t care much for innocence or guilt. However, all above principles go out the window should the downfall of the Regime be related. When it comes to bringing down the institution that controlled her life from before she existed, Niamh is all in, no matter the cost.
Ω Physical Description Ω
At slim 5’9” with lean muscle from field work, Niamh usually keeps her light brown hair tied back so that it’s not in her way. Weighing roughly 121 lb, Niamh wouldn’t be considered intimidating if one doesn’t see her piercing blue eyes. She often frowns and only pulls mocking or polite smiles when needed. |
353 | 7 | 2 | 19 | 1,003 | Current Outfit
Raven's arms were tied up to the trunk of a tree above her head, blood starting to drip down into her eyes as she noticed the Regime officer turn back towards her, electric baton crackling loudly. She wouldn't allow them to see that she, to her unfortunate discomfort, was in quite a bit of pain. Raven scowled at the man closing the distance between them, shifting uncomfortably as the ropes around her wrists tightened, starting to give quite a nasty burn. The man simply laughed and leaned in close, inhaling deeply. Was he... smelling her?! He raised a hand and attempted to tuck a stray hair behind her ear before Raven pulled away.
"They're always sexier when they've got a fight in 'em. Ain't that right, boys?" A gang of laughter and consensus followed before he continued, "Awe, what's the matter sweetheart? Ain't a lovin' type of gal?" With no hesitation, not so much as skipping a beat, Raven spit at the officer directly in the face. Blood spatter covered his ugly mug, he angrily wiped it away and slapped Raven directly across her own face. Raven coughed up some more blood, spilling from her mouth like a small river flowing over her lips. 'Where's El?' she thought to herself, glancing around but it was hard to see with 3 sets of truck headlights blinding her vision passed a few yards out. Almost as soon the thought left her mind, the truck lights began to flicker before all 3 went out.
The men turned every which way to try figuring out what had happened, their pokemon standing at attention beside them growling, each growing as uneasy as their masters. Raven's blood-stained lips curved up into a smile as she whispered just loud enough for the captain who'd been assaulting her previously could hear, "Marco." With that, a loud explosion from behind the car to her right sounded off, the men screaming at their pokemon to chase after the thing that caused it. A fairly large yellow blur came charging from behind, bulldozing the growlithe and houndour in it's path, flailing it's arms at the soldiers attempting to shoot their net blasters at it.
Screaming incoherently, the Electabuzz charged straight at the captain and with both hands, slammed the poor man off to the side. Raven smiled as Electabuzz yanked the ropes free from the trunk of the tree. "Sadistic game of Marco-Pollo, eh?" His baring of his fangs was enough for Raven to know he agreed, his eyes were still had a slight red glow to them from his fit of rage. It wasn't time for looking him over, or dwelling on the pains she was feeling all over her body, it was time to run. And run, they did.
Near Interaction With: Isaiah
Jackson walked with his hands wrapped tightly around his assault rifle, looking around the never-ending sea of trees surrounding him as he kept moving forward. Houndour stopped in his tracks and turned his head to look behind him, his body following slowly. He began to growl, teeth bared as he stared off into the trees where they'd come from just before. Jack hadn't noticed Houndour fall behind but definitely heard him growl, turning to confront whatever it was Houndour was at an unease about, holding up his rifle aiming at whatever may be coming. A blast off in the distance to the right caused him to stop, turning his attention to said noise. Both him and Houndoor began to run towards it, Jackson carrying his rifle close to his chest and at the ready in case he needed it.
What Jack saw was something he hadn't seen in a long time. An Electabuzz. Wild, maybe. Definitely wasn't Regime. Only reason he knew that was, the damned thing attacking a group of soldiers who looked to be previously interrogating some young woman. From behind a tree, Jackson stayed out of sight and watched the scene unfold. The pokemon causing the chaos was the largest one he'd ever seen, looked to be a whopping four foot tall, compared to most of the type who barely made three and a half feet at most. Once the excitement had calmed a tad and the pokemon rescued the woman who was clearly it's master fled, Jack too, turned away from the scene and started off towards the way he'd been going before. He would have walked into the disaster to see if his ex-fellow soldiers were alright, since he could pull it off, still being in his uniform and all. But in case they were part of the ranks that knew of his dishonorable discharge, he would rather not risk the trouble. | Jackson Atticus Kincaid
Face Claim: Jeremy Irvine
"The price of being a sheep is boredom. The price of being a wolf is loneliness.
Choose one or the other with great care." -Hugh Macleod
In The End by Linkin Park | Sound the Bugle by Bryan Adams
The Renegade Who Had It Made, Retrieved For A Bounty
☬ Full-Birth Given Name ☬
"Jackson Atticus Kincaid, at your service."
☬ Preferred Name | Nickname ☬
"I prefer to go by Jax, or Jack. Regime just address by last names."
☬ Sex Identification ☬
Bi-Sexual male.
☬ Established In ☬
"September 22, 2323. I'm 24-years-old."
☬ Place of Birth ☬
Queens, New York.
☬ Also Knowing ☬
"I still carry my shock baton and assault rifle with me, though my rifle has no rounds in it. Just for show, and to fool the fools that still think I'm Regime. I stay in my uniform for that specific reason, though I do have a change of clothes in my pack."
This Will Be the End Today of a Wanted Man
☬ Rebel or Regime? ☬
Ex-Regime, turned Rebel.
☬ Pokemon Companion ☬
"I own a Houndour, who I've since named Grimm, that was given to me by the Regime. He and I used to just have a 'master and slave' type relationship as the Regime would have us treat our pokemon, but I've tried getting closer with him since I left. He seems to becoming more fond of me."
☬ History with Pokemon ☬
"I was given Grimm when I was an active soldier for the regime. It used to be, if I said jump he'd immediately do so. Now, he's become my only friend I have. We're trying to better the companionship we've started since I left."
☬ Short Biography ☬
"I grew up in a semi-wealthy family that didn't know what rationing was, like the lower class. My family was decently provided for, and we had relations with people in the Regime. My uncle, specifically, was a military captain. He brought me into the military under his wing when I was just 18 years old. Been a Regime soldier ever since. I know how to avoid them, so it's pretty easy for me to stay out of sight."
☬ Persona ☬
Jackson wants to be a hero, someone that everyone knows and reveres. But barring that, he’s willing to be a sort of dark knight. As the youngest of six and constantly disregarded, Jackson is independent and desperate to prove himself, wanting to show his personal talent and leave a legacy behind in the minds of everyone. But he’s not brash. He is content to observe and work quietly, and he’s very intelligent, which is no small aid. He thinks before he acts and is adept at seeing all sides and analyzing situations so he can act to his best advantage. He wants to be something and make something of himself; proving himself better than anyone could have expected is one of his highest priorities. Jackson's social skills need work. He has somewhat of a low tolerance for certain people and is dismissive of those who are loud, unsubtle, and quick to offer opinions for everything. Nevertheless, other people are often "entitled" to his opinion in the form of his biting sarcastic remarks. Other than that he is a quiet and even somewhat withdrawn guy. While he enjoys the company of some of people, solitude is a balm for him. He has to be able to think and study.
Jackson is a knowledge seeker. He is one of those people who believe that knowledge and intelligence are central to success and power, so many things fascinate him and he could easily be found reading if he wasn't constantly on the run. In his mind no fact or understanding of a process or a tendency is unimportant or useless, and may help a person when they least expect it to. As such, he can usually provide extra information on most any subject, even if he gives it in a condescending manner. He is proud of what he knows, both the facts and the underlying understanding of how things work. Interestingly, though, Jackson’s quiet, studious exterior hides somewhat of a rebellious and unconventional streak. He likes to go his own way and will do it willingly. He also respects authority, but follows rules when it suits him—in other words, most of the time, but not if he has something else in mind that he deems worth the risk of losing points in the eyes of his higher ranking officers or perhaps damaging his image a little. However, as important as that is to him, these moments come very rarely. More frequently his unconventionality is manifested in an experimentative tendency.
Jackson loves a challenge and he loves besting people, but it is usually a private victory for him. He needs not brag and draw attention to his success as long as he knows personally that he has won. However, this is not to say that he doesn’t need others’ acclaim. Being noticed is important to him, and he hates being ignored, but he would rather people notice by themselves how outstanding he truly is. That being said, criticism tends to bounce off of him as well--he is rather selective about what he hears and chooses to take to heart. Despite a sometimes ungracious manner, and a self-preserving and self-benefiting attitude, the guy is not bad at heart. He would always stick up for those he considers his friends, and is not averse to helping even strangers, after he is finished or providing it doesn’t inconvenience him. But when he is hurt, it is common to find him completely withdrawn and intractable, working only for himself in a kind of cool temper that can take a while to thaw out, even with the efforts of his closest friends. Unfortunately, Jackson is also prone to hold grudges after problems with others, and he is stubborn about them, though adaptable in other situations.
Jackson is a careful and patient guy. He’ll watch and wait for a long time with an observant and analyzing eye without feeling a need to do anything himself, gaining something from everything he sees. Not only that, he’s good at making what he sees help him in some way. He’s also good at using all the resources he can to help him achieve whatever goal he has in mind. Jackson is driven and works diligently to achieve any goal he’s set for himself, and places these goals above most other things. As such, he’s very organized; he hates clutter and his personal space, personal appearance, and his management of time and such are all very neat and organized, often following a schedule or other method of keeping everything in its proper place and time. It bothers him when things aren’t set out clearly and prioritized so they can be followed right. He’s a very good multi-tasker and his organization helps him make sure everything gets accomplished exactly when and how he planned it to. If it doesn't, he'll fix it until it does.
☬ Physical Description ☬
Jackson is roughly 6'3" and weighs a total of 194lbs. He keeps his dark brown hair cropped kind of short, maybe only a couple inches in length. His eyes are a light grey color that turn almost hazel when he's upset, which is very rare to see with him. When he gets mad, they seem to turn almost black, they get so dark. His body is toned and he continues to maintain that each and every day. He'll exercise with his houndoor Grimm for hours, when he can.
Maya "Raven" Reyes
Face Claim: Lindsey Morgan
"Rebellion is the only thing that keeps you alive." -Marianne Faithfull
Dare to Believe by Boyce Avenue | Problem by Ariana Grande ft. Iggy Azalea
I'm Heading Straight For the Castle
♠ Full-Birth Given Name ♠
"Maya Reyes. No, I don't possess a middle name."
♠ Preferred Name | Nickname ♠
"I tend to just go by 'Raven'. It's a nickname my mom gave me as a kid."
♠ Sex Identification ♠
Heterosexual female, here.
♠ Established In ♠
"May 20th, 2327. Yes, that makes me 20-years-old."
♠ Place of Birth ♠
New Orleans, Louisiana.
♠ Also Knowing ♠
"I carry a knife with me, it stays strapped to the inside of my jacket, while I also have an axe I keep at my hip. What?.. Safety Precautions."
They Wanna Make Me Their Queen
♠ Rebel or Regime? ♠
"Rebel. Not hard to tell. I'm constantly on the run."
♠ Pokemon Companion ♠
"I have an Electabuzz with me."
♠ History with Pokemon ♠
"Well, I met Electabuzz as an Elekid. He used to hang around my childhood home, and occasionally I would feed him. Even brought him inside from the rain a few nights. My parents didn't like me playing with the wild pokemon, so it was kept quiet for a long time. Elekid, at the time, seemed to be very understanding. Around the time when I turned 15, I was getting deep into my rebellious stage and went so far as to sneak onto a Regime truck and steal a pokeball. Well, technically an Ultra ball. I made sure to find an Ultra because its colors matched Elekid's patterns. When I returned home that night, I couldn't find Elekid anywhere. I searched and searched but he was nowhere to be found. I thought maybe he'd gotten picked up by the Regime while I was gone, so I sat the ball ontop of my dresser and left it as a reminder, thinking I'd never see him again. The next morning, however, I found an Electabuzz in my front yard staring me down. Only thing that told me it wasn't going to attack was the genuine smile on its face. It didn't take me long to realize what had happened. I then asked the, now, Electabuzz if it'd go into a permanent partnership with me. I offered up the pokeball, and promised him if he ever felt threatened by me or just flat out didn't want to be around me anymore, I'd set him free. We've been together ever since. He's my best bud."
♠ Short Biography ♠
"I came from a low-class migrant farmer family who didn't have much to begin with. Poverty is a disease in our family, one spread from generation to generation, even before the wars f*cked everything up even worse. My parents made sure to give my brother and I the best education their money could afford, though. They, as well as my brother, gave up their lives to let me escape The Regime. Our parents were late on their payments, and The Regime came to claim what wasn't rightfully theirs. Since I had my own pokemon that wasn't registered, my parents advised me to leave. My brother tried to join me, but they caught on that we were on the run and he created a diversion. I've been on the run with Electabuzz ever since."
♠ Persona ♠
Upon a first meeting, Raven is usually rather quiet. Although she likes the company of people, she doesn't typically approach others unless she's pretty sure they'll welcome it. Once acquainted with someone, though, she can be quite animated and talkative, more lighthearted and teasing the closer she is to someone. She is fiercely loyal to the people she cares for, helping them at all costs, and is generally kind. Her friends can always rely on her for level-headed advice, a listening ear, or help with classwork--regarding the latter, she's a hard worker that usually enjoys the work she does, and is prone to trying to focus people back on the main subject or task at hand. If she doesn't know someone, however, she can be judgmental at times if someone seems ignorant or shallow; Raven is fairly quick to form opinions of people and sticks to her first impression, unless enough contrasting evidence is set before her.
Raven is naturally outspoken and hates having to mask or hide herself and how she is. She knows how to keep quiet when she has recognized that caution and prudence are necessary, but would prefer to speak her mind, and can be rather blunt. Raven is opinionated and has things to say and ideas to give on everything, which contributes to activity in classes and discussions with her friends. She will doggedly uphold her beliefs no matter what. Raven has an acute sense of right and wrong. She believes in always doing what she believes is the right thing, no matter what other people say and think. She has a high sense of honor and returns assistance and even kindness to anyone who has done her a good turn, no matter how much she may dislike them. She is also usually, if grudgingly, fair, even if this is colored, again, by an inherent dislike of the person she is thinking about or referring to.
Although fairly intelligent, and someone who will give her all and put her mind to something once she gets around to it, Raven's mind can tend to wander off, especially if something big is weighing on her mind and what she's doing is rather mundane. Someone who likes to see the "big picture", she can get caught up in it instead of focusing on what she's doing in the here and now unless they are tied together. However, it's rare that she doesn't complete a task that she's given, even if it starts in a delayed fashion. She tries her hardest to produce good results in whatever she does, and once she decides on a course of action, she is determined to follow it through to the end. Quite stubborn, it is extremely difficult for someone to change her mind after she's made a decision, though she can be influenced successfully while she is still considering her options.
Although she tries to control her temper, it can be quite violent with proper provocation. During the end of the last war, she became much more easily provoked, taking more strongly to old prejudices; this has mostly worn off, but she experiences flare-ups occasionally. This was also accompanied by an increase in impulsiveness and recklessness, but she's really feeling more like her normal self, although a touch of extra spark and fire seems to be part of her for good. In her natural state, though, relatively free from any out-of-the-ordinary stress, Raven tries and usually succeeds in being clear-headed in her decisions, thinking things through.
Although she seems rather unassuming, Raven also is fond of adventure and trying out new things. Because she believes that doing something worthwhile in the world is important, and that there are things that people are just meant to do, she's always wanted to keep doing different things to figure out what she's good at and what she's passionate about. To a degree, she also just enjoys a bit of danger and the unknown, even though she recognizes that stability is often better and has become much more cautious than she was when she was younger. When it comes down to it, Raven values simplicity and straightforwardness in life. To her it's comforting to have a goal and know who you can count on, and having both she feels quite at ease with life. Whatever she does though, there's very little that the young witch regrets, and she's proud of who she is and where she's been.
♠ Physical Description ♠
Raven doesn't stand much taller than 5'6" and weighs a petite 114lbs. Her Mexican and Native features truly stand out with her dark brown, almost black hair, tanned skin and dark eyes to match. She has full lashes and fixed eyebrows to go with them. Her facial expressions usually show she means business, and it's rare to see her smile, but given the chance, she lights up any room. She has two tattoos and a paper crane necklace she wears. One of the tattoos is of black wings, one on each shoulder/arm, to go along with her nickname. The other is a quote across her chest that reads, "Can't put your arms around a memory." |
354 | 7 | 3 | 19 | 1,003 | This color denotes Inner thoughts that are not said aloud
"The hell was that?" Isaiah grumbled, hearing the electabuzz scream out. He had never seen the electric type before, and had no idea what to make of the sound, other than it seemed like a war cry. So Isaiah did what any naturally curious person would. He ran at near breakneck speed towards the sound, only stopping when he ended up 20 feet behind a houndour and a man in Regime uniform (). He had been a bit too loud, a bit too careless, and the man was sure to look.
So this was it.... Running face first into a Regime soldier. You know, it was kinda surprising this hadn't happened earlier. With a silent grunt, Isaiah jumped straight up, catching a branch and hauling his slender frame up into the tree. If he was luckier than a leprechaun sporting a jacket made of four leaf clovers and shoes made OF horse shoes then MAYBE Jackson and his houndour wouldn't look directly at Isaiah and notice him 10 feet above them. Then again, Isaiah was still within a normal cone of sight for the two. Well ain't this about as fun as dancing on broken glass barefoot.... Why don't I carry a gun anymore? | Jackson Atticus Kincaid
Face Claim: Jeremy Irvine
"The price of being a sheep is boredom. The price of being a wolf is loneliness.
Choose one or the other with great care." -Hugh Macleod
In The End by Linkin Park | Sound the Bugle by Bryan Adams
The Renegade Who Had It Made, Retrieved For A Bounty
☬ Full-Birth Given Name ☬
"Jackson Atticus Kincaid, at your service."
☬ Preferred Name | Nickname ☬
"I prefer to go by Jax, or Jack. Regime just address by last names."
☬ Sex Identification ☬
Bi-Sexual male.
☬ Established In ☬
"September 22, 2323. I'm 24-years-old."
☬ Place of Birth ☬
Queens, New York.
☬ Also Knowing ☬
"I still carry my shock baton and assault rifle with me, though my rifle has no rounds in it. Just for show, and to fool the fools that still think I'm Regime. I stay in my uniform for that specific reason, though I do have a change of clothes in my pack."
This Will Be the End Today of a Wanted Man
☬ Rebel or Regime? ☬
Ex-Regime, turned Rebel.
☬ Pokemon Companion ☬
"I own a Houndour, who I've since named Grimm, that was given to me by the Regime. He and I used to just have a 'master and slave' type relationship as the Regime would have us treat our pokemon, but I've tried getting closer with him since I left. He seems to becoming more fond of me."
☬ History with Pokemon ☬
"I was given Grimm when I was an active soldier for the regime. It used to be, if I said jump he'd immediately do so. Now, he's become my only friend I have. We're trying to better the companionship we've started since I left."
☬ Short Biography ☬
"I grew up in a semi-wealthy family that didn't know what rationing was, like the lower class. My family was decently provided for, and we had relations with people in the Regime. My uncle, specifically, was a military captain. He brought me into the military under his wing when I was just 18 years old. Been a Regime soldier ever since. I know how to avoid them, so it's pretty easy for me to stay out of sight."
☬ Persona ☬
Jackson wants to be a hero, someone that everyone knows and reveres. But barring that, he’s willing to be a sort of dark knight. As the youngest of six and constantly disregarded, Jackson is independent and desperate to prove himself, wanting to show his personal talent and leave a legacy behind in the minds of everyone. But he’s not brash. He is content to observe and work quietly, and he’s very intelligent, which is no small aid. He thinks before he acts and is adept at seeing all sides and analyzing situations so he can act to his best advantage. He wants to be something and make something of himself; proving himself better than anyone could have expected is one of his highest priorities. Jackson's social skills need work. He has somewhat of a low tolerance for certain people and is dismissive of those who are loud, unsubtle, and quick to offer opinions for everything. Nevertheless, other people are often "entitled" to his opinion in the form of his biting sarcastic remarks. Other than that he is a quiet and even somewhat withdrawn guy. While he enjoys the company of some of people, solitude is a balm for him. He has to be able to think and study.
Jackson is a knowledge seeker. He is one of those people who believe that knowledge and intelligence are central to success and power, so many things fascinate him and he could easily be found reading if he wasn't constantly on the run. In his mind no fact or understanding of a process or a tendency is unimportant or useless, and may help a person when they least expect it to. As such, he can usually provide extra information on most any subject, even if he gives it in a condescending manner. He is proud of what he knows, both the facts and the underlying understanding of how things work. Interestingly, though, Jackson’s quiet, studious exterior hides somewhat of a rebellious and unconventional streak. He likes to go his own way and will do it willingly. He also respects authority, but follows rules when it suits him—in other words, most of the time, but not if he has something else in mind that he deems worth the risk of losing points in the eyes of his higher ranking officers or perhaps damaging his image a little. However, as important as that is to him, these moments come very rarely. More frequently his unconventionality is manifested in an experimentative tendency.
Jackson loves a challenge and he loves besting people, but it is usually a private victory for him. He needs not brag and draw attention to his success as long as he knows personally that he has won. However, this is not to say that he doesn’t need others’ acclaim. Being noticed is important to him, and he hates being ignored, but he would rather people notice by themselves how outstanding he truly is. That being said, criticism tends to bounce off of him as well--he is rather selective about what he hears and chooses to take to heart. Despite a sometimes ungracious manner, and a self-preserving and self-benefiting attitude, the guy is not bad at heart. He would always stick up for those he considers his friends, and is not averse to helping even strangers, after he is finished or providing it doesn’t inconvenience him. But when he is hurt, it is common to find him completely withdrawn and intractable, working only for himself in a kind of cool temper that can take a while to thaw out, even with the efforts of his closest friends. Unfortunately, Jackson is also prone to hold grudges after problems with others, and he is stubborn about them, though adaptable in other situations.
Jackson is a careful and patient guy. He’ll watch and wait for a long time with an observant and analyzing eye without feeling a need to do anything himself, gaining something from everything he sees. Not only that, he’s good at making what he sees help him in some way. He’s also good at using all the resources he can to help him achieve whatever goal he has in mind. Jackson is driven and works diligently to achieve any goal he’s set for himself, and places these goals above most other things. As such, he’s very organized; he hates clutter and his personal space, personal appearance, and his management of time and such are all very neat and organized, often following a schedule or other method of keeping everything in its proper place and time. It bothers him when things aren’t set out clearly and prioritized so they can be followed right. He’s a very good multi-tasker and his organization helps him make sure everything gets accomplished exactly when and how he planned it to. If it doesn't, he'll fix it until it does.
☬ Physical Description ☬
Jackson is roughly 6'3" and weighs a total of 194lbs. He keeps his dark brown hair cropped kind of short, maybe only a couple inches in length. His eyes are a light grey color that turn almost hazel when he's upset, which is very rare to see with him. When he gets mad, they seem to turn almost black, they get so dark. His body is toned and he continues to maintain that each and every day. He'll exercise with his houndoor Grimm for hours, when he can.
Maya "Raven" Reyes
Face Claim: Lindsey Morgan
"Rebellion is the only thing that keeps you alive." -Marianne Faithfull
Dare to Believe by Boyce Avenue | Problem by Ariana Grande ft. Iggy Azalea
I'm Heading Straight For the Castle
♠ Full-Birth Given Name ♠
"Maya Reyes. No, I don't possess a middle name."
♠ Preferred Name | Nickname ♠
"I tend to just go by 'Raven'. It's a nickname my mom gave me as a kid."
♠ Sex Identification ♠
Heterosexual female, here.
♠ Established In ♠
"May 20th, 2327. Yes, that makes me 20-years-old."
♠ Place of Birth ♠
New Orleans, Louisiana.
♠ Also Knowing ♠
"I carry a knife with me, it stays strapped to the inside of my jacket, while I also have an axe I keep at my hip. What?.. Safety Precautions."
They Wanna Make Me Their Queen
♠ Rebel or Regime? ♠
"Rebel. Not hard to tell. I'm constantly on the run."
♠ Pokemon Companion ♠
"I have an Electabuzz with me."
♠ History with Pokemon ♠
"Well, I met Electabuzz as an Elekid. He used to hang around my childhood home, and occasionally I would feed him. Even brought him inside from the rain a few nights. My parents didn't like me playing with the wild pokemon, so it was kept quiet for a long time. Elekid, at the time, seemed to be very understanding. Around the time when I turned 15, I was getting deep into my rebellious stage and went so far as to sneak onto a Regime truck and steal a pokeball. Well, technically an Ultra ball. I made sure to find an Ultra because its colors matched Elekid's patterns. When I returned home that night, I couldn't find Elekid anywhere. I searched and searched but he was nowhere to be found. I thought maybe he'd gotten picked up by the Regime while I was gone, so I sat the ball ontop of my dresser and left it as a reminder, thinking I'd never see him again. The next morning, however, I found an Electabuzz in my front yard staring me down. Only thing that told me it wasn't going to attack was the genuine smile on its face. It didn't take me long to realize what had happened. I then asked the, now, Electabuzz if it'd go into a permanent partnership with me. I offered up the pokeball, and promised him if he ever felt threatened by me or just flat out didn't want to be around me anymore, I'd set him free. We've been together ever since. He's my best bud."
♠ Short Biography ♠
"I came from a low-class migrant farmer family who didn't have much to begin with. Poverty is a disease in our family, one spread from generation to generation, even before the wars f*cked everything up even worse. My parents made sure to give my brother and I the best education their money could afford, though. They, as well as my brother, gave up their lives to let me escape The Regime. Our parents were late on their payments, and The Regime came to claim what wasn't rightfully theirs. Since I had my own pokemon that wasn't registered, my parents advised me to leave. My brother tried to join me, but they caught on that we were on the run and he created a diversion. I've been on the run with Electabuzz ever since."
♠ Persona ♠
Upon a first meeting, Raven is usually rather quiet. Although she likes the company of people, she doesn't typically approach others unless she's pretty sure they'll welcome it. Once acquainted with someone, though, she can be quite animated and talkative, more lighthearted and teasing the closer she is to someone. She is fiercely loyal to the people she cares for, helping them at all costs, and is generally kind. Her friends can always rely on her for level-headed advice, a listening ear, or help with classwork--regarding the latter, she's a hard worker that usually enjoys the work she does, and is prone to trying to focus people back on the main subject or task at hand. If she doesn't know someone, however, she can be judgmental at times if someone seems ignorant or shallow; Raven is fairly quick to form opinions of people and sticks to her first impression, unless enough contrasting evidence is set before her.
Raven is naturally outspoken and hates having to mask or hide herself and how she is. She knows how to keep quiet when she has recognized that caution and prudence are necessary, but would prefer to speak her mind, and can be rather blunt. Raven is opinionated and has things to say and ideas to give on everything, which contributes to activity in classes and discussions with her friends. She will doggedly uphold her beliefs no matter what. Raven has an acute sense of right and wrong. She believes in always doing what she believes is the right thing, no matter what other people say and think. She has a high sense of honor and returns assistance and even kindness to anyone who has done her a good turn, no matter how much she may dislike them. She is also usually, if grudgingly, fair, even if this is colored, again, by an inherent dislike of the person she is thinking about or referring to.
Although fairly intelligent, and someone who will give her all and put her mind to something once she gets around to it, Raven's mind can tend to wander off, especially if something big is weighing on her mind and what she's doing is rather mundane. Someone who likes to see the "big picture", she can get caught up in it instead of focusing on what she's doing in the here and now unless they are tied together. However, it's rare that she doesn't complete a task that she's given, even if it starts in a delayed fashion. She tries her hardest to produce good results in whatever she does, and once she decides on a course of action, she is determined to follow it through to the end. Quite stubborn, it is extremely difficult for someone to change her mind after she's made a decision, though she can be influenced successfully while she is still considering her options.
Although she tries to control her temper, it can be quite violent with proper provocation. During the end of the last war, she became much more easily provoked, taking more strongly to old prejudices; this has mostly worn off, but she experiences flare-ups occasionally. This was also accompanied by an increase in impulsiveness and recklessness, but she's really feeling more like her normal self, although a touch of extra spark and fire seems to be part of her for good. In her natural state, though, relatively free from any out-of-the-ordinary stress, Raven tries and usually succeeds in being clear-headed in her decisions, thinking things through.
Although she seems rather unassuming, Raven also is fond of adventure and trying out new things. Because she believes that doing something worthwhile in the world is important, and that there are things that people are just meant to do, she's always wanted to keep doing different things to figure out what she's good at and what she's passionate about. To a degree, she also just enjoys a bit of danger and the unknown, even though she recognizes that stability is often better and has become much more cautious than she was when she was younger. When it comes down to it, Raven values simplicity and straightforwardness in life. To her it's comforting to have a goal and know who you can count on, and having both she feels quite at ease with life. Whatever she does though, there's very little that the young witch regrets, and she's proud of who she is and where she's been.
♠ Physical Description ♠
Raven doesn't stand much taller than 5'6" and weighs a petite 114lbs. Her Mexican and Native features truly stand out with her dark brown, almost black hair, tanned skin and dark eyes to match. She has full lashes and fixed eyebrows to go with them. Her facial expressions usually show she means business, and it's rare to see her smile, but given the chance, she lights up any room. She has two tattoos and a paper crane necklace she wears. One of the tattoos is of black wings, one on each shoulder/arm, to go along with her nickname. The other is a quote across her chest that reads, "Can't put your arms around a memory." |
355 | 7 | 4 | 711 | 1,531 | Ω Niamh Elin Reimer Ω
The sound of an explosion in the distance alerted Niamh first, and the sudden tense in her muscles caused the Metang to stop instinctively, awaiting orders. ”Head towards the explosion,” Niamh ordered, slipping her clipboard and pen into her backpack before standing again. As soon as she cleared the trees, the source of the explosion was clear: an Electabuzz, bright yellow-and-black, zigzagging through the forest with its rebel owner.
Here Niamh’s choices opened up—she could either fly over and try to capture the rebel, or she could act the fool and simply fly over to the wreck. However, should anyone see her in the air right now, they guess that she had no intention of capturing the trainer and therefore no loyalty to the Regime. I suppose a bruise or two would convince the cocky airheads in the Interrogation Department that pretty face can’t do much outside of the lab? Niamh thought, frowning. ”Metang—head towards the escapees, pronto.”
Metang obeyed, gliding over silently but quickly. Niamh knelt down, gripping the installed metal handles for that very purpose as the pair came to a drifting hover over the Electabuzz and its trainer—a black-haired girl, by the looks of it. Niamh sighed. Well, here goes nothing.
”Hey!” Niamh shouted down at the girl. ”Stop right there!” | Niamh Reimer
Face Claim: Barbara Palvin
We cannot attribute to fortune or virtue that which is achieved without either.
—Niccolo Machiavelli
{Lana Del Rey — Born to Die} | {Halsey — Colors}
The Road is Long, We Carry On
Ω Full-Birth Given Name Ω
Niamh Elin Reimer
Ω Preferred Name | Nickname Ω
Niamh. Reimer while on-duty.
Ω Sex Identification Ω
Heterosexual Female
Ω Established In Ω
September 21st, 2326 — 20
Ω Place of Birth Ω
Los Angeles, California
Ω Also Knowing Ω
”I’m nicer when I’m off-duty.”
Try to Have Fun in the Meantime
Ω Rebel or Regime? Ω
Regime, Rebel-sympathizer
Ω Pokemon Companion Ω
A Sableye named Lennox and a Regime-assigned Metang
Ω History with Pokemon Ω
The Sableye was a neighborhood rumour, and Niamh didn’t catch a glimpse of it until she was 12 and her family home was being ransacked by the Regime for valuables. Furious at the Regime, Niamh had half a mind to just bury the valuables when she’d seen the drooling Pokemon. After feeding a jewelry box of gems to the Sableye, she’d been graced by his presence more often, and she soon found a strange sort of company with the Pokemon that was easier to hide than others, being able to phase through walls and melt into shadows and all.
Niamh’s Metang is her assigned Pokemon, with an ID number of MT1938. Being largely metal, the Pokemon lacks personality and Niamh just uses it as transportation and to fulfill her assignments.
Niamh once owned a Growlithe named Ayden back when she was 14 and in the lowest tiers of the Regime military, the Patrol Troops. As her duty was to patrol Regime land, she and her Growlithe spent much time together and soon became friends, albeit secretly. The puppy Pokemon was her dearest friend during her early days in the Regime, and she was heartbroken when she had to part with him. As most Pokemon have their memories blanked when passing through Regime headquarters, Niamh considers Ayden to be gone.
Ω Short Biography Ω
Niamh was born into a family of scientists that had been relatively prominent before the Regime took over. During the wars they’d fought against the Regime and aided the rebels, and that was their downfall. Niamh’s parents now live day-to-day serving the Regime and helping them design their Pokemon-trapping technology, never a thought of rebellion on their minds despite how badly they are treated, and it disgusts Niamh even though she still loves them.
As the child of Regime supporters, she was recruited to join the Regime forces at age 14 when she was first given a Growlithe. Before that she’d attended the Regime academy where children are brainwashed to support them, but Niamh was able to tell truth from lies because she’d heard enough lies at home. She graduated two years early after mastering the skills necessary and was therefore allotted a Pokemon early as well.
Over time, Niamh’s intelligence and aptitude for tracking down Pokemon became apparent, and she was switched to the Investigative Squads whose duty was to hunt down possible Pokemon and alert the Hunting Squads of them. At age 17, her Growlithe was confiscticated and she was given a Metang instead for this role. She now serves out her days in the squad, living in Regime headquarters where she aids Rebel forces when possible.
Ω Persona Ω
Before she discovered the horrors of the Regime, Niamh was a curious and kind-hearted child in a relatively wealthy and comfortable home. After she started attending the academy, however, Niamh quickly discovered that her world was a lie built on others’ suffering, and she quickly became reserved and cold. Her gentle side only came out towards her first Pokemon, but after he was confiscated Niamh withdrew into herself even more. There are cracks in her mask of indifference and contempt, but one would be hard-pressed to find them.
Her brilliance and sheer aptitude for learning and making logical leaps has allowed Niamh to excel throughout her academy years. When she passed the graduation test at age 14, she was allowed to select between joining the research department or signing up for the Regime military. She chose the latter because joining the military meant she would be allotted a Pokemon even though her mind is arguably more suited for the former.
Niamh is sharp-tongued and sees no point in honor in current times. She’d much rather save her own skin that someone else’s and doesn’t care much for innocence or guilt. However, all above principles go out the window should the downfall of the Regime be related. When it comes to bringing down the institution that controlled her life from before she existed, Niamh is all in, no matter the cost.
Ω Physical Description Ω
At slim 5’9” with lean muscle from field work, Niamh usually keeps her light brown hair tied back so that it’s not in her way. Weighing roughly 121 lb, Niamh wouldn’t be considered intimidating if one doesn’t see her piercing blue eyes. She often frowns and only pulls mocking or polite smiles when needed. |
356 | 7 | 5 | 2,502 | 1,203 | Shade
A few hundred yards away, a girl watched the action through the scope of her rifle. She’d been tracking the brunette with the clipboard, most likely one of the so-called “scientists”, for a while, looking for an opportunity. Silent kills were the best when it came to dealing with the Regime; Shade would keep watch while Razor went for the kill. By the time anybody realized what had happened, it would be too late; they'd have the safety of distance and their prey would be thoroughly on edge. Sniping was loud and drew attention, plus the hunting Pokemon were annoyingly good at tracking her down once they were let loose, but she could usually get two or three before having to move. Unfortunately, the presence of the Metang and the general lack of cover made it more difficult. Steel Pokemon always were difficult kills.
The prisoner made things more complicated. Shade knew better than most that it tended to be a very short-term state, and it was seldom a pleasant one. She'd seen it before: in all likelihood, the girl would have a temporary stay in a tiny cell, followed by an interrogation in which anything was allowed, then a mockery of a trial before her summary, and possibly publicly televised execution. If she was lucky. The unlucky ones were an exercise in imagination that Shade preferred not to do.
Unfortunately, there hadn't been a great deal she could do. As much as Shade might have wanted to help, the girl was surrounded by soldiers. Shade and Razor were good, but not THAT good. One would have to be suicidal to just charge in.
Apparently somebody was. An being rather successful at it, if the exploding trucks were any indication. An Electabuzz? Didn't know they lived out here. Things began moving very fast, and very surprising. The Electabuzz freed the girl, and after a brief moment the pair took off, straight in Shade’s direction. It would take only seconds for the disoriented guards to give pursuit. Her previous target was now moving to intercept. She'd seen Metang move quickly across open terrain, but the trees would force it to slow down or risk clotheslining its master on a branch. As amazing as that would be to see, the Regime made sure their Pokemon were too well “trained” to let that happen. Shade made her decision.
The sharp crack of the rifle echoed through the trees, and one of the guards chasing the fleeing escapee slumped to the ground. She knew Razor was watching everything, and the Sneasel was smart enough to realize what she wanted. He wouldn't be happy about it, but he would understand. Loading in another round, she aimed a snarling Growlithe that was closing on the girl's heels. Another pull of the trigger, and the Puppy Pokemon went tumbling nose over tail. A black blur leaped from amid the forest undergrowth, and blood spurted from the neck of another guard as the Sneasel disappeared as quickly as it had arrived. He'd be heading up into the trees now, attack from another vantage point.
Shade turned her aim back to the scientist girl. She was getting close now, and if she ordered Metang to use its psychic abilities, it would be all over for the escapee. Shade took aim, leading the shot, but a moving target heading in a perpendicular direction was not an easy shot to make, as the bullet caught the scientist in the shoulder and knocked her off her seat. Dammit! The lack of a clean kill made Shade grit her teeth. She only had a handful of bullets left on her, and she doubted that she would get the opportunity to loot the bodies. This girl she was helping had better be worth it. | Isiah "Vantage" Vantas
Everything is theoretically impossible, unti it is done. -Robert A. Heinlein
How far we've come by Matchbox 20 | You're going down by Sick Puppies
Start of the end of the world, but...
♍ Full-Birth Given Name ♍
"Isaiah Vantas, at your service."
♍ Preferred Name | Nickname ♍
"Isaiah is fine, if we're friends. Otherwise, call me Vantage."
♍ Sex Identification ♍
"I'm not sure why you need to know, but I'm a straight male."
♍ Established In ♍
"I'm 19 (or possibly, 20), Born August 28, 2328."
♍ Place of Birth ♍
"Boston, Massachusetts"
♍ Also Knowing ♍
"I know my way around a gun very well, though I don't carry one. I'm also damn good at climbing vertical surfaces."
Its feeling just like every other morning before.
♍ Rebel or Regime? ♍
"Rebel. I want freedom, like the last books speak of..."
♍ Pokemon Companion ♍
"I've never had a Pokémon stick around, but I'd love a Gardevoir..."
♍ History with Pokemon ♍
"Like I said, I don't have any Pokémon, but you can be sure I'll tell you when I do."
♍ Short Biography ♍
"I never had a lot in life, but I never thought it was bad. My parents were like most others in my town. Poor, hard working, and always scared. But I thought that was just how people lived. That is, until I stumbled upon a group of rebel sympathizers on the outskirts of town. They were at peace, enjoying life with their Pokémon and doing everything they could to be happy. But it didn't last.... The regime came for them, and wiped out most of the town as well."
"Since that event, I've been travelling around collecting books and recordings of the past... I want to recreate that world, where everyone could be happy, and where Pokémon were our friends, instead of the machines of war the Regime insists they are."
{symbol of your choice} Persona {symbol of your choice}
If Isaiah could be described fully in a single word, that word would be "curious." Curiosity is what drives Isaiah in most of his adventures. Sure, he has his reasons beyond it, but when he sees an abandoned library, a boarded up house, or an abandoned government facility, the first thought in his head is "I wonder what's in there...." Of course, this can lead to trouble, and is a big part of the reason Isaiah has so many bite mark shaped scars. Growlithe bites hurt.
Of course, there is more to him than that. Isaiah is moderately intelligent, able to think up complex plans on the go, especially when it comes to escapes. Even in the thick of things, he is always analyzing his surroundings, finding tactical vantage points and escape vectors. If you ever get into trouble and need to find a way out of it, Isaiah is the one you would want to ask. Above and beyond that though, Isaiah tends to be average in his intelligence. But that doesn't matter to him, and he doesn't mind not being the smartest. Who cares after all, when you can escape almost any situation you need.
Beyond those two things, Isaiah is a kind young man with a naivety about him. He is willing to trust almost anyone at least once, and likes to make friends. He acts younger than he is when he is relaxed, giving others the impression of immaturity. The truth though, is that Isaiah just wants to have fun while he can, and refuses to let a corrupt world push that down. However, put him into a serious situation, and you can count on him for serious backup.
Isaiah also has latent violent tendencies. He used to carry a gun with him, which is how he developed a great skill as a marksman, and a knowledge of gun care and maintenance. However. He realized after some time that when he had the gun, he wanted to use the gun. After his first kill, an unarmed regime member who was going to report him, Isaiah took the gun apart completely, put it in a case, and let it stay in the bottom of his backpack, unusable. However, this hasn't prevented some of his more violent tendencies for getting out, and Isaiah has a great love for street fights, whether with thieves or unarmed Regime members.
{symbol of your choice} Physical Description {symbol of your choice}
Isaiah is tall, standing just at 6 feet. Dark brown, short hair covers his head in a messy form, and he is almost always wearing a hoodie and jeans to help disguise himself. If you were to get his hood off, you could see bite mark scars on his neck, and even more down his body if you pulled off his clothes. Intelligent blue eyes peek out from under thick bangs, and a twice broken nose, bent to one side, makes it impossible to think of him as classically attractive.
Change log
- changed birthday to August 29th. |
357 | 7 | 6 | 711 | 1,531 | Ω Niamh Elin Reimer Ω
The shooting pain in Niamh's shoulder surprised her, to say the least. Her brain told her it was a bullet wound and that the bullet had missed bone, but her nerves told a different story of raw, searing agony. The impact of the bullet shocked her so much the Niamh’s grip on the Metang’s bars loosened, causing her to fall from the Pokemon. As all Metang are trained for such situations, the Pokemon quickly swerved and caught its assignment in a gray-blue blur. Agility, Niamh recognized dimly, a faint smirk on her face. Glad to see I got one of the few slabs of floating metal with brains.
Niamh picked herself up off her side to stand on the Metang. The escapee with the Electabuzz was nowhere to be seen, but now Niamh had a new target—the girl who had shot her. Niamh could see her clearly now through the trees, crouching with a rifle. Their eyes met. Niamh’s brain whirled.
Options: fight or flight. Question: was the non-lethal shot intentional? Yes: shot missed bone, traveling between clavicle and scapula; has not made a second shot. No: Shot would have hit superior vena cava or even aorta if hadn’t moved; girl’s stance is tense—sees me as danger.
One hand gripping her shoulder tightly to stem the blood flow, Niamh’s eyes scanned the shadowy forest for further life. A flash of black and red indicated that there was—presumably a Pokemon, judging by the speed. By color, it was probably a dark Pokemon.
”Metang. Agility and magnet rise,” Niamh said, crouching down and clamping a hand on a bar. The Metang complied, heightening its speed to a blur before rising further off the ground. ”Head back to base.”
The pair disappeared in a gray-blue flash towards the Regime base. | Niamh Reimer
Face Claim: Barbara Palvin
We cannot attribute to fortune or virtue that which is achieved without either.
—Niccolo Machiavelli
{Lana Del Rey — Born to Die} | {Halsey — Colors}
The Road is Long, We Carry On
Ω Full-Birth Given Name Ω
Niamh Elin Reimer
Ω Preferred Name | Nickname Ω
Niamh. Reimer while on-duty.
Ω Sex Identification Ω
Heterosexual Female
Ω Established In Ω
September 21st, 2326 — 20
Ω Place of Birth Ω
Los Angeles, California
Ω Also Knowing Ω
”I’m nicer when I’m off-duty.”
Try to Have Fun in the Meantime
Ω Rebel or Regime? Ω
Regime, Rebel-sympathizer
Ω Pokemon Companion Ω
A Sableye named Lennox and a Regime-assigned Metang
Ω History with Pokemon Ω
The Sableye was a neighborhood rumour, and Niamh didn’t catch a glimpse of it until she was 12 and her family home was being ransacked by the Regime for valuables. Furious at the Regime, Niamh had half a mind to just bury the valuables when she’d seen the drooling Pokemon. After feeding a jewelry box of gems to the Sableye, she’d been graced by his presence more often, and she soon found a strange sort of company with the Pokemon that was easier to hide than others, being able to phase through walls and melt into shadows and all.
Niamh’s Metang is her assigned Pokemon, with an ID number of MT1938. Being largely metal, the Pokemon lacks personality and Niamh just uses it as transportation and to fulfill her assignments.
Niamh once owned a Growlithe named Ayden back when she was 14 and in the lowest tiers of the Regime military, the Patrol Troops. As her duty was to patrol Regime land, she and her Growlithe spent much time together and soon became friends, albeit secretly. The puppy Pokemon was her dearest friend during her early days in the Regime, and she was heartbroken when she had to part with him. As most Pokemon have their memories blanked when passing through Regime headquarters, Niamh considers Ayden to be gone.
Ω Short Biography Ω
Niamh was born into a family of scientists that had been relatively prominent before the Regime took over. During the wars they’d fought against the Regime and aided the rebels, and that was their downfall. Niamh’s parents now live day-to-day serving the Regime and helping them design their Pokemon-trapping technology, never a thought of rebellion on their minds despite how badly they are treated, and it disgusts Niamh even though she still loves them.
As the child of Regime supporters, she was recruited to join the Regime forces at age 14 when she was first given a Growlithe. Before that she’d attended the Regime academy where children are brainwashed to support them, but Niamh was able to tell truth from lies because she’d heard enough lies at home. She graduated two years early after mastering the skills necessary and was therefore allotted a Pokemon early as well.
Over time, Niamh’s intelligence and aptitude for tracking down Pokemon became apparent, and she was switched to the Investigative Squads whose duty was to hunt down possible Pokemon and alert the Hunting Squads of them. At age 17, her Growlithe was confiscticated and she was given a Metang instead for this role. She now serves out her days in the squad, living in Regime headquarters where she aids Rebel forces when possible.
Ω Persona Ω
Before she discovered the horrors of the Regime, Niamh was a curious and kind-hearted child in a relatively wealthy and comfortable home. After she started attending the academy, however, Niamh quickly discovered that her world was a lie built on others’ suffering, and she quickly became reserved and cold. Her gentle side only came out towards her first Pokemon, but after he was confiscated Niamh withdrew into herself even more. There are cracks in her mask of indifference and contempt, but one would be hard-pressed to find them.
Her brilliance and sheer aptitude for learning and making logical leaps has allowed Niamh to excel throughout her academy years. When she passed the graduation test at age 14, she was allowed to select between joining the research department or signing up for the Regime military. She chose the latter because joining the military meant she would be allotted a Pokemon even though her mind is arguably more suited for the former.
Niamh is sharp-tongued and sees no point in honor in current times. She’d much rather save her own skin that someone else’s and doesn’t care much for innocence or guilt. However, all above principles go out the window should the downfall of the Regime be related. When it comes to bringing down the institution that controlled her life from before she existed, Niamh is all in, no matter the cost.
Ω Physical Description Ω
At slim 5’9” with lean muscle from field work, Niamh usually keeps her light brown hair tied back so that it’s not in her way. Weighing roughly 121 lb, Niamh wouldn’t be considered intimidating if one doesn’t see her piercing blue eyes. She often frowns and only pulls mocking or polite smiles when needed. |
358 | 7 | 7 | 19 | 1,003 | Interactions: Niemh () || Isaiah () || Jackson (Self)
Mentions: Shade ()
Raven was running as fast as she could but of course no one was fast enough to outrun the Regime's trained hounds. She could hear them coming from behind her, tailing her every dip and dodge when suddenly a shot range out through the valley. Then another, and suddenly there were no pursuing footsteps directly behind h- and another shot. Now there were none that she could hear. Raven slowed down to a stop to catch her breath, standing bent over with her hands on her knees, taking long, deep breathes. From behind, a voice called out. "Hey!" Raven looked over her shoulder, assuming she'd see her rescuer. She was wrong. "Stop right there!" A Regime Scientist.
Raven's heart dropped and she immediately shoved Electabuzz into a separate direction to run and began running another route. She wouldn't be caught, not again. Not twice in one friggin' day! The large metal pokemon was gaining on her as well, now, and Raven only feared the worst. Another sharp crack of a shot rang out, followed by a hard thud behind her. Against her better judgement, Raven turned to see what had happened to the Scientist that'd been in her pursuit, finding her on the ground but still very much alive. Quickly scanning the surrounding area, she realized the Scientist was the only one following her. Raven smirked and began to make yet another run for it, thanking her guardian angel, whoever that may be, and hoped maybe one day they'd cross paths so she could give a proper thanks. She'd been too busy staring behind her to realize where exactly she was running, and ran directly into a young man () who, unto her knowledge had been climbing the tree, both collapsing onto the floor. Raven shoved the guy off of her, scrambling away from him as she looked him over quickly, realizing he wasn't Regime. She let out a mental sigh of relief. Not much to her surprise though, as she looked over, there stood a Regime officer (Jackson) with his houndour, both looking down at them with flat-faced expressions. "Shit."
Interactions: Isaiah () || Raven (Self)
Jackson's Houndour beside him began to growl softly, it's back arched slightly, the fur raised up along its spine. Holding up his rifle, Jackson took aim and scanned the forest, spinning around when he heard what sounded like a tree branch snap, a feminine grunt and a loud collapse of weight. Just 20ft from Jackson and Houndour lay two civilians, one being the girl he'd watched escape from the other soldiers. Obviously they weren't together by the way they looked at each other, but then the girl looked at him. Her eyes widened just slightly as she cursed to herself. The girl looked beaten up pretty bad, and although it wasn't his fault, Jackson felt bad, himself. That was the kind of thing he'd been forced to do over the years being one of them.
There was a silent stand-off for a minute before Jackson slowly lowered his gun, seeing the boy had neither weapon nor pokemon at his side. At least that he knew of. The young man, looking to be not much younger than himself, wouldn't be much harm to him. Jackson was a respectful young man in himself. If an enemy didn't have a weapon, neither would he. It was that simple. An old view that the Regime laughed off. Kill or be killed. Regime never let themselves be the latter, if they could help it. Jackson realized the girl's Electabuzz was nowhere to be seen, but with the kind of destruction it had caused with a decent squad of soldiers and their own pokemon, it was clear this was a fight he didn't want to pick. He quickly slid his rifle over his shoulder, holding up his hands to show he meant no harm. Raising a hand to his partner, Houndour saw the silent command and immediately calmed down, sitting on it's haunches at Jackson's side just staring at the strangers before them.
"My name is Jackson Kincaid." Looking around to be sure there were no lurking Regime soldiers around, he met their eyes again and continued, "I mean you no harm." Jackson swallowed hard, only slightly nervous, that missing Electabuzz was a real reason to be. Though his instinct was to try locating the dangerous beast, Jackson stood his ground and stared back at the two people before him. He hoped they'd not give him too much grief if they decided to ban together and try overtaking him and Houndour. One could only hope they'd be as civil as he was trying to be, right now. | Jackson Atticus Kincaid
Face Claim: Jeremy Irvine
"The price of being a sheep is boredom. The price of being a wolf is loneliness.
Choose one or the other with great care." -Hugh Macleod
In The End by Linkin Park | Sound the Bugle by Bryan Adams
The Renegade Who Had It Made, Retrieved For A Bounty
☬ Full-Birth Given Name ☬
"Jackson Atticus Kincaid, at your service."
☬ Preferred Name | Nickname ☬
"I prefer to go by Jax, or Jack. Regime just address by last names."
☬ Sex Identification ☬
Bi-Sexual male.
☬ Established In ☬
"September 22, 2323. I'm 24-years-old."
☬ Place of Birth ☬
Queens, New York.
☬ Also Knowing ☬
"I still carry my shock baton and assault rifle with me, though my rifle has no rounds in it. Just for show, and to fool the fools that still think I'm Regime. I stay in my uniform for that specific reason, though I do have a change of clothes in my pack."
This Will Be the End Today of a Wanted Man
☬ Rebel or Regime? ☬
Ex-Regime, turned Rebel.
☬ Pokemon Companion ☬
"I own a Houndour, who I've since named Grimm, that was given to me by the Regime. He and I used to just have a 'master and slave' type relationship as the Regime would have us treat our pokemon, but I've tried getting closer with him since I left. He seems to becoming more fond of me."
☬ History with Pokemon ☬
"I was given Grimm when I was an active soldier for the regime. It used to be, if I said jump he'd immediately do so. Now, he's become my only friend I have. We're trying to better the companionship we've started since I left."
☬ Short Biography ☬
"I grew up in a semi-wealthy family that didn't know what rationing was, like the lower class. My family was decently provided for, and we had relations with people in the Regime. My uncle, specifically, was a military captain. He brought me into the military under his wing when I was just 18 years old. Been a Regime soldier ever since. I know how to avoid them, so it's pretty easy for me to stay out of sight."
☬ Persona ☬
Jackson wants to be a hero, someone that everyone knows and reveres. But barring that, he’s willing to be a sort of dark knight. As the youngest of six and constantly disregarded, Jackson is independent and desperate to prove himself, wanting to show his personal talent and leave a legacy behind in the minds of everyone. But he’s not brash. He is content to observe and work quietly, and he’s very intelligent, which is no small aid. He thinks before he acts and is adept at seeing all sides and analyzing situations so he can act to his best advantage. He wants to be something and make something of himself; proving himself better than anyone could have expected is one of his highest priorities. Jackson's social skills need work. He has somewhat of a low tolerance for certain people and is dismissive of those who are loud, unsubtle, and quick to offer opinions for everything. Nevertheless, other people are often "entitled" to his opinion in the form of his biting sarcastic remarks. Other than that he is a quiet and even somewhat withdrawn guy. While he enjoys the company of some of people, solitude is a balm for him. He has to be able to think and study.
Jackson is a knowledge seeker. He is one of those people who believe that knowledge and intelligence are central to success and power, so many things fascinate him and he could easily be found reading if he wasn't constantly on the run. In his mind no fact or understanding of a process or a tendency is unimportant or useless, and may help a person when they least expect it to. As such, he can usually provide extra information on most any subject, even if he gives it in a condescending manner. He is proud of what he knows, both the facts and the underlying understanding of how things work. Interestingly, though, Jackson’s quiet, studious exterior hides somewhat of a rebellious and unconventional streak. He likes to go his own way and will do it willingly. He also respects authority, but follows rules when it suits him—in other words, most of the time, but not if he has something else in mind that he deems worth the risk of losing points in the eyes of his higher ranking officers or perhaps damaging his image a little. However, as important as that is to him, these moments come very rarely. More frequently his unconventionality is manifested in an experimentative tendency.
Jackson loves a challenge and he loves besting people, but it is usually a private victory for him. He needs not brag and draw attention to his success as long as he knows personally that he has won. However, this is not to say that he doesn’t need others’ acclaim. Being noticed is important to him, and he hates being ignored, but he would rather people notice by themselves how outstanding he truly is. That being said, criticism tends to bounce off of him as well--he is rather selective about what he hears and chooses to take to heart. Despite a sometimes ungracious manner, and a self-preserving and self-benefiting attitude, the guy is not bad at heart. He would always stick up for those he considers his friends, and is not averse to helping even strangers, after he is finished or providing it doesn’t inconvenience him. But when he is hurt, it is common to find him completely withdrawn and intractable, working only for himself in a kind of cool temper that can take a while to thaw out, even with the efforts of his closest friends. Unfortunately, Jackson is also prone to hold grudges after problems with others, and he is stubborn about them, though adaptable in other situations.
Jackson is a careful and patient guy. He’ll watch and wait for a long time with an observant and analyzing eye without feeling a need to do anything himself, gaining something from everything he sees. Not only that, he’s good at making what he sees help him in some way. He’s also good at using all the resources he can to help him achieve whatever goal he has in mind. Jackson is driven and works diligently to achieve any goal he’s set for himself, and places these goals above most other things. As such, he’s very organized; he hates clutter and his personal space, personal appearance, and his management of time and such are all very neat and organized, often following a schedule or other method of keeping everything in its proper place and time. It bothers him when things aren’t set out clearly and prioritized so they can be followed right. He’s a very good multi-tasker and his organization helps him make sure everything gets accomplished exactly when and how he planned it to. If it doesn't, he'll fix it until it does.
☬ Physical Description ☬
Jackson is roughly 6'3" and weighs a total of 194lbs. He keeps his dark brown hair cropped kind of short, maybe only a couple inches in length. His eyes are a light grey color that turn almost hazel when he's upset, which is very rare to see with him. When he gets mad, they seem to turn almost black, they get so dark. His body is toned and he continues to maintain that each and every day. He'll exercise with his houndoor Grimm for hours, when he can.
Maya "Raven" Reyes
Face Claim: Lindsey Morgan
"Rebellion is the only thing that keeps you alive." -Marianne Faithfull
Dare to Believe by Boyce Avenue | Problem by Ariana Grande ft. Iggy Azalea
I'm Heading Straight For the Castle
♠ Full-Birth Given Name ♠
"Maya Reyes. No, I don't possess a middle name."
♠ Preferred Name | Nickname ♠
"I tend to just go by 'Raven'. It's a nickname my mom gave me as a kid."
♠ Sex Identification ♠
Heterosexual female, here.
♠ Established In ♠
"May 20th, 2327. Yes, that makes me 20-years-old."
♠ Place of Birth ♠
New Orleans, Louisiana.
♠ Also Knowing ♠
"I carry a knife with me, it stays strapped to the inside of my jacket, while I also have an axe I keep at my hip. What?.. Safety Precautions."
They Wanna Make Me Their Queen
♠ Rebel or Regime? ♠
"Rebel. Not hard to tell. I'm constantly on the run."
♠ Pokemon Companion ♠
"I have an Electabuzz with me."
♠ History with Pokemon ♠
"Well, I met Electabuzz as an Elekid. He used to hang around my childhood home, and occasionally I would feed him. Even brought him inside from the rain a few nights. My parents didn't like me playing with the wild pokemon, so it was kept quiet for a long time. Elekid, at the time, seemed to be very understanding. Around the time when I turned 15, I was getting deep into my rebellious stage and went so far as to sneak onto a Regime truck and steal a pokeball. Well, technically an Ultra ball. I made sure to find an Ultra because its colors matched Elekid's patterns. When I returned home that night, I couldn't find Elekid anywhere. I searched and searched but he was nowhere to be found. I thought maybe he'd gotten picked up by the Regime while I was gone, so I sat the ball ontop of my dresser and left it as a reminder, thinking I'd never see him again. The next morning, however, I found an Electabuzz in my front yard staring me down. Only thing that told me it wasn't going to attack was the genuine smile on its face. It didn't take me long to realize what had happened. I then asked the, now, Electabuzz if it'd go into a permanent partnership with me. I offered up the pokeball, and promised him if he ever felt threatened by me or just flat out didn't want to be around me anymore, I'd set him free. We've been together ever since. He's my best bud."
♠ Short Biography ♠
"I came from a low-class migrant farmer family who didn't have much to begin with. Poverty is a disease in our family, one spread from generation to generation, even before the wars f*cked everything up even worse. My parents made sure to give my brother and I the best education their money could afford, though. They, as well as my brother, gave up their lives to let me escape The Regime. Our parents were late on their payments, and The Regime came to claim what wasn't rightfully theirs. Since I had my own pokemon that wasn't registered, my parents advised me to leave. My brother tried to join me, but they caught on that we were on the run and he created a diversion. I've been on the run with Electabuzz ever since."
♠ Persona ♠
Upon a first meeting, Raven is usually rather quiet. Although she likes the company of people, she doesn't typically approach others unless she's pretty sure they'll welcome it. Once acquainted with someone, though, she can be quite animated and talkative, more lighthearted and teasing the closer she is to someone. She is fiercely loyal to the people she cares for, helping them at all costs, and is generally kind. Her friends can always rely on her for level-headed advice, a listening ear, or help with classwork--regarding the latter, she's a hard worker that usually enjoys the work she does, and is prone to trying to focus people back on the main subject or task at hand. If she doesn't know someone, however, she can be judgmental at times if someone seems ignorant or shallow; Raven is fairly quick to form opinions of people and sticks to her first impression, unless enough contrasting evidence is set before her.
Raven is naturally outspoken and hates having to mask or hide herself and how she is. She knows how to keep quiet when she has recognized that caution and prudence are necessary, but would prefer to speak her mind, and can be rather blunt. Raven is opinionated and has things to say and ideas to give on everything, which contributes to activity in classes and discussions with her friends. She will doggedly uphold her beliefs no matter what. Raven has an acute sense of right and wrong. She believes in always doing what she believes is the right thing, no matter what other people say and think. She has a high sense of honor and returns assistance and even kindness to anyone who has done her a good turn, no matter how much she may dislike them. She is also usually, if grudgingly, fair, even if this is colored, again, by an inherent dislike of the person she is thinking about or referring to.
Although fairly intelligent, and someone who will give her all and put her mind to something once she gets around to it, Raven's mind can tend to wander off, especially if something big is weighing on her mind and what she's doing is rather mundane. Someone who likes to see the "big picture", she can get caught up in it instead of focusing on what she's doing in the here and now unless they are tied together. However, it's rare that she doesn't complete a task that she's given, even if it starts in a delayed fashion. She tries her hardest to produce good results in whatever she does, and once she decides on a course of action, she is determined to follow it through to the end. Quite stubborn, it is extremely difficult for someone to change her mind after she's made a decision, though she can be influenced successfully while she is still considering her options.
Although she tries to control her temper, it can be quite violent with proper provocation. During the end of the last war, she became much more easily provoked, taking more strongly to old prejudices; this has mostly worn off, but she experiences flare-ups occasionally. This was also accompanied by an increase in impulsiveness and recklessness, but she's really feeling more like her normal self, although a touch of extra spark and fire seems to be part of her for good. In her natural state, though, relatively free from any out-of-the-ordinary stress, Raven tries and usually succeeds in being clear-headed in her decisions, thinking things through.
Although she seems rather unassuming, Raven also is fond of adventure and trying out new things. Because she believes that doing something worthwhile in the world is important, and that there are things that people are just meant to do, she's always wanted to keep doing different things to figure out what she's good at and what she's passionate about. To a degree, she also just enjoys a bit of danger and the unknown, even though she recognizes that stability is often better and has become much more cautious than she was when she was younger. When it comes down to it, Raven values simplicity and straightforwardness in life. To her it's comforting to have a goal and know who you can count on, and having both she feels quite at ease with life. Whatever she does though, there's very little that the young witch regrets, and she's proud of who she is and where she's been.
♠ Physical Description ♠
Raven doesn't stand much taller than 5'6" and weighs a petite 114lbs. Her Mexican and Native features truly stand out with her dark brown, almost black hair, tanned skin and dark eyes to match. She has full lashes and fixed eyebrows to go with them. Her facial expressions usually show she means business, and it's rare to see her smile, but given the chance, she lights up any room. She has two tattoos and a paper crane necklace she wears. One of the tattoos is of black wings, one on each shoulder/arm, to go along with her nickname. The other is a quote across her chest that reads, "Can't put your arms around a memory." |
359 | 7 | 8 | 19 | 1,003 | Isaiah grunted as the woman ran into him from behind, crashing them both into the ground. "Oh for the love of all that's holy." He groaned, looking up into the eyes of the woman as she backed off. "Well. This is unexpected...." He glanced over to the supposed regime officer, rolling up and back onto his feet in one fluid move that kept his eyes on Jackson at all times. His hand reached back to his hip, where the gun he once carried openly no longer rested. "Great...."
Then Jackson introduced himself and Isaiah's eyebrows rose. He considered the possibilities. He didn't have a pokemon, and wasn't armed. The man obviously had both. The woman... Well, Isaiah wasn't sure what she had. But he had a feeling she wasn't holding a gun. Non-regime members tended to shoot first, ask questions later when their lives were in danger. And for good reason. So... There was no good reason for Jackson to keep them alive if he was a regime member. At least, not without using his gun to do it. "Just... call me vantage...." He said, glancing to both of them and waiting, knees bent some and an obviously cautious nature to his body language. | Jackson Atticus Kincaid
Face Claim: Jeremy Irvine
"The price of being a sheep is boredom. The price of being a wolf is loneliness.
Choose one or the other with great care." -Hugh Macleod
In The End by Linkin Park | Sound the Bugle by Bryan Adams
The Renegade Who Had It Made, Retrieved For A Bounty
☬ Full-Birth Given Name ☬
"Jackson Atticus Kincaid, at your service."
☬ Preferred Name | Nickname ☬
"I prefer to go by Jax, or Jack. Regime just address by last names."
☬ Sex Identification ☬
Bi-Sexual male.
☬ Established In ☬
"September 22, 2323. I'm 24-years-old."
☬ Place of Birth ☬
Queens, New York.
☬ Also Knowing ☬
"I still carry my shock baton and assault rifle with me, though my rifle has no rounds in it. Just for show, and to fool the fools that still think I'm Regime. I stay in my uniform for that specific reason, though I do have a change of clothes in my pack."
This Will Be the End Today of a Wanted Man
☬ Rebel or Regime? ☬
Ex-Regime, turned Rebel.
☬ Pokemon Companion ☬
"I own a Houndour, who I've since named Grimm, that was given to me by the Regime. He and I used to just have a 'master and slave' type relationship as the Regime would have us treat our pokemon, but I've tried getting closer with him since I left. He seems to becoming more fond of me."
☬ History with Pokemon ☬
"I was given Grimm when I was an active soldier for the regime. It used to be, if I said jump he'd immediately do so. Now, he's become my only friend I have. We're trying to better the companionship we've started since I left."
☬ Short Biography ☬
"I grew up in a semi-wealthy family that didn't know what rationing was, like the lower class. My family was decently provided for, and we had relations with people in the Regime. My uncle, specifically, was a military captain. He brought me into the military under his wing when I was just 18 years old. Been a Regime soldier ever since. I know how to avoid them, so it's pretty easy for me to stay out of sight."
☬ Persona ☬
Jackson wants to be a hero, someone that everyone knows and reveres. But barring that, he’s willing to be a sort of dark knight. As the youngest of six and constantly disregarded, Jackson is independent and desperate to prove himself, wanting to show his personal talent and leave a legacy behind in the minds of everyone. But he’s not brash. He is content to observe and work quietly, and he’s very intelligent, which is no small aid. He thinks before he acts and is adept at seeing all sides and analyzing situations so he can act to his best advantage. He wants to be something and make something of himself; proving himself better than anyone could have expected is one of his highest priorities. Jackson's social skills need work. He has somewhat of a low tolerance for certain people and is dismissive of those who are loud, unsubtle, and quick to offer opinions for everything. Nevertheless, other people are often "entitled" to his opinion in the form of his biting sarcastic remarks. Other than that he is a quiet and even somewhat withdrawn guy. While he enjoys the company of some of people, solitude is a balm for him. He has to be able to think and study.
Jackson is a knowledge seeker. He is one of those people who believe that knowledge and intelligence are central to success and power, so many things fascinate him and he could easily be found reading if he wasn't constantly on the run. In his mind no fact or understanding of a process or a tendency is unimportant or useless, and may help a person when they least expect it to. As such, he can usually provide extra information on most any subject, even if he gives it in a condescending manner. He is proud of what he knows, both the facts and the underlying understanding of how things work. Interestingly, though, Jackson’s quiet, studious exterior hides somewhat of a rebellious and unconventional streak. He likes to go his own way and will do it willingly. He also respects authority, but follows rules when it suits him—in other words, most of the time, but not if he has something else in mind that he deems worth the risk of losing points in the eyes of his higher ranking officers or perhaps damaging his image a little. However, as important as that is to him, these moments come very rarely. More frequently his unconventionality is manifested in an experimentative tendency.
Jackson loves a challenge and he loves besting people, but it is usually a private victory for him. He needs not brag and draw attention to his success as long as he knows personally that he has won. However, this is not to say that he doesn’t need others’ acclaim. Being noticed is important to him, and he hates being ignored, but he would rather people notice by themselves how outstanding he truly is. That being said, criticism tends to bounce off of him as well--he is rather selective about what he hears and chooses to take to heart. Despite a sometimes ungracious manner, and a self-preserving and self-benefiting attitude, the guy is not bad at heart. He would always stick up for those he considers his friends, and is not averse to helping even strangers, after he is finished or providing it doesn’t inconvenience him. But when he is hurt, it is common to find him completely withdrawn and intractable, working only for himself in a kind of cool temper that can take a while to thaw out, even with the efforts of his closest friends. Unfortunately, Jackson is also prone to hold grudges after problems with others, and he is stubborn about them, though adaptable in other situations.
Jackson is a careful and patient guy. He’ll watch and wait for a long time with an observant and analyzing eye without feeling a need to do anything himself, gaining something from everything he sees. Not only that, he’s good at making what he sees help him in some way. He’s also good at using all the resources he can to help him achieve whatever goal he has in mind. Jackson is driven and works diligently to achieve any goal he’s set for himself, and places these goals above most other things. As such, he’s very organized; he hates clutter and his personal space, personal appearance, and his management of time and such are all very neat and organized, often following a schedule or other method of keeping everything in its proper place and time. It bothers him when things aren’t set out clearly and prioritized so they can be followed right. He’s a very good multi-tasker and his organization helps him make sure everything gets accomplished exactly when and how he planned it to. If it doesn't, he'll fix it until it does.
☬ Physical Description ☬
Jackson is roughly 6'3" and weighs a total of 194lbs. He keeps his dark brown hair cropped kind of short, maybe only a couple inches in length. His eyes are a light grey color that turn almost hazel when he's upset, which is very rare to see with him. When he gets mad, they seem to turn almost black, they get so dark. His body is toned and he continues to maintain that each and every day. He'll exercise with his houndoor Grimm for hours, when he can.
Maya "Raven" Reyes
Face Claim: Lindsey Morgan
"Rebellion is the only thing that keeps you alive." -Marianne Faithfull
Dare to Believe by Boyce Avenue | Problem by Ariana Grande ft. Iggy Azalea
I'm Heading Straight For the Castle
♠ Full-Birth Given Name ♠
"Maya Reyes. No, I don't possess a middle name."
♠ Preferred Name | Nickname ♠
"I tend to just go by 'Raven'. It's a nickname my mom gave me as a kid."
♠ Sex Identification ♠
Heterosexual female, here.
♠ Established In ♠
"May 20th, 2327. Yes, that makes me 20-years-old."
♠ Place of Birth ♠
New Orleans, Louisiana.
♠ Also Knowing ♠
"I carry a knife with me, it stays strapped to the inside of my jacket, while I also have an axe I keep at my hip. What?.. Safety Precautions."
They Wanna Make Me Their Queen
♠ Rebel or Regime? ♠
"Rebel. Not hard to tell. I'm constantly on the run."
♠ Pokemon Companion ♠
"I have an Electabuzz with me."
♠ History with Pokemon ♠
"Well, I met Electabuzz as an Elekid. He used to hang around my childhood home, and occasionally I would feed him. Even brought him inside from the rain a few nights. My parents didn't like me playing with the wild pokemon, so it was kept quiet for a long time. Elekid, at the time, seemed to be very understanding. Around the time when I turned 15, I was getting deep into my rebellious stage and went so far as to sneak onto a Regime truck and steal a pokeball. Well, technically an Ultra ball. I made sure to find an Ultra because its colors matched Elekid's patterns. When I returned home that night, I couldn't find Elekid anywhere. I searched and searched but he was nowhere to be found. I thought maybe he'd gotten picked up by the Regime while I was gone, so I sat the ball ontop of my dresser and left it as a reminder, thinking I'd never see him again. The next morning, however, I found an Electabuzz in my front yard staring me down. Only thing that told me it wasn't going to attack was the genuine smile on its face. It didn't take me long to realize what had happened. I then asked the, now, Electabuzz if it'd go into a permanent partnership with me. I offered up the pokeball, and promised him if he ever felt threatened by me or just flat out didn't want to be around me anymore, I'd set him free. We've been together ever since. He's my best bud."
♠ Short Biography ♠
"I came from a low-class migrant farmer family who didn't have much to begin with. Poverty is a disease in our family, one spread from generation to generation, even before the wars f*cked everything up even worse. My parents made sure to give my brother and I the best education their money could afford, though. They, as well as my brother, gave up their lives to let me escape The Regime. Our parents were late on their payments, and The Regime came to claim what wasn't rightfully theirs. Since I had my own pokemon that wasn't registered, my parents advised me to leave. My brother tried to join me, but they caught on that we were on the run and he created a diversion. I've been on the run with Electabuzz ever since."
♠ Persona ♠
Upon a first meeting, Raven is usually rather quiet. Although she likes the company of people, she doesn't typically approach others unless she's pretty sure they'll welcome it. Once acquainted with someone, though, she can be quite animated and talkative, more lighthearted and teasing the closer she is to someone. She is fiercely loyal to the people she cares for, helping them at all costs, and is generally kind. Her friends can always rely on her for level-headed advice, a listening ear, or help with classwork--regarding the latter, she's a hard worker that usually enjoys the work she does, and is prone to trying to focus people back on the main subject or task at hand. If she doesn't know someone, however, she can be judgmental at times if someone seems ignorant or shallow; Raven is fairly quick to form opinions of people and sticks to her first impression, unless enough contrasting evidence is set before her.
Raven is naturally outspoken and hates having to mask or hide herself and how she is. She knows how to keep quiet when she has recognized that caution and prudence are necessary, but would prefer to speak her mind, and can be rather blunt. Raven is opinionated and has things to say and ideas to give on everything, which contributes to activity in classes and discussions with her friends. She will doggedly uphold her beliefs no matter what. Raven has an acute sense of right and wrong. She believes in always doing what she believes is the right thing, no matter what other people say and think. She has a high sense of honor and returns assistance and even kindness to anyone who has done her a good turn, no matter how much she may dislike them. She is also usually, if grudgingly, fair, even if this is colored, again, by an inherent dislike of the person she is thinking about or referring to.
Although fairly intelligent, and someone who will give her all and put her mind to something once she gets around to it, Raven's mind can tend to wander off, especially if something big is weighing on her mind and what she's doing is rather mundane. Someone who likes to see the "big picture", she can get caught up in it instead of focusing on what she's doing in the here and now unless they are tied together. However, it's rare that she doesn't complete a task that she's given, even if it starts in a delayed fashion. She tries her hardest to produce good results in whatever she does, and once she decides on a course of action, she is determined to follow it through to the end. Quite stubborn, it is extremely difficult for someone to change her mind after she's made a decision, though she can be influenced successfully while she is still considering her options.
Although she tries to control her temper, it can be quite violent with proper provocation. During the end of the last war, she became much more easily provoked, taking more strongly to old prejudices; this has mostly worn off, but she experiences flare-ups occasionally. This was also accompanied by an increase in impulsiveness and recklessness, but she's really feeling more like her normal self, although a touch of extra spark and fire seems to be part of her for good. In her natural state, though, relatively free from any out-of-the-ordinary stress, Raven tries and usually succeeds in being clear-headed in her decisions, thinking things through.
Although she seems rather unassuming, Raven also is fond of adventure and trying out new things. Because she believes that doing something worthwhile in the world is important, and that there are things that people are just meant to do, she's always wanted to keep doing different things to figure out what she's good at and what she's passionate about. To a degree, she also just enjoys a bit of danger and the unknown, even though she recognizes that stability is often better and has become much more cautious than she was when she was younger. When it comes down to it, Raven values simplicity and straightforwardness in life. To her it's comforting to have a goal and know who you can count on, and having both she feels quite at ease with life. Whatever she does though, there's very little that the young witch regrets, and she's proud of who she is and where she's been.
♠ Physical Description ♠
Raven doesn't stand much taller than 5'6" and weighs a petite 114lbs. Her Mexican and Native features truly stand out with her dark brown, almost black hair, tanned skin and dark eyes to match. She has full lashes and fixed eyebrows to go with them. Her facial expressions usually show she means business, and it's rare to see her smile, but given the chance, she lights up any room. She has two tattoos and a paper crane necklace she wears. One of the tattoos is of black wings, one on each shoulder/arm, to go along with her nickname. The other is a quote across her chest that reads, "Can't put your arms around a memory." |
360 | 7 | 9 | 2,502 | 1,203 | Shade
A faint rustling sound came from the tree behind Jackson, and a dark shape dropped down onto his back. Before anyone could breath, the Sneasel unsheathed one of its claws and pressed it up against the former Regime soldier’s throat, perfectly placed to slice a line straight across. It would take much less than a minute for him to bleed out, though he would be dead well before then from his lungs filling with his own blood.
For several heartbeats, silence fell over the group, then a feminine voice called out from the trees. ”What are you waiting for, Razor? Kill him.”
The Sneasel’s eyes flicked between its captive and the group standing before them several times, and it made a sound that was somewhere between a hiss and squeak.
”What do you mean, “no”?” Shade stepped out of the trees, scowling harshly. She was pissed that the scientist girl had survived, and not in any mood to be merciful. ”He’s Regime, we kill bastards like him.” Razor answered with a chittering noise, though he didn’t remove his claw from Jackson’s throat, and Shade’s scowl became even darker. ”I don’t care what he said! He’s with the Regime, he deserves to die.” | Isiah "Vantage" Vantas
Everything is theoretically impossible, unti it is done. -Robert A. Heinlein
How far we've come by Matchbox 20 | You're going down by Sick Puppies
Start of the end of the world, but...
♍ Full-Birth Given Name ♍
"Isaiah Vantas, at your service."
♍ Preferred Name | Nickname ♍
"Isaiah is fine, if we're friends. Otherwise, call me Vantage."
♍ Sex Identification ♍
"I'm not sure why you need to know, but I'm a straight male."
♍ Established In ♍
"I'm 19 (or possibly, 20), Born August 28, 2328."
♍ Place of Birth ♍
"Boston, Massachusetts"
♍ Also Knowing ♍
"I know my way around a gun very well, though I don't carry one. I'm also damn good at climbing vertical surfaces."
Its feeling just like every other morning before.
♍ Rebel or Regime? ♍
"Rebel. I want freedom, like the last books speak of..."
♍ Pokemon Companion ♍
"I've never had a Pokémon stick around, but I'd love a Gardevoir..."
♍ History with Pokemon ♍
"Like I said, I don't have any Pokémon, but you can be sure I'll tell you when I do."
♍ Short Biography ♍
"I never had a lot in life, but I never thought it was bad. My parents were like most others in my town. Poor, hard working, and always scared. But I thought that was just how people lived. That is, until I stumbled upon a group of rebel sympathizers on the outskirts of town. They were at peace, enjoying life with their Pokémon and doing everything they could to be happy. But it didn't last.... The regime came for them, and wiped out most of the town as well."
"Since that event, I've been travelling around collecting books and recordings of the past... I want to recreate that world, where everyone could be happy, and where Pokémon were our friends, instead of the machines of war the Regime insists they are."
{symbol of your choice} Persona {symbol of your choice}
If Isaiah could be described fully in a single word, that word would be "curious." Curiosity is what drives Isaiah in most of his adventures. Sure, he has his reasons beyond it, but when he sees an abandoned library, a boarded up house, or an abandoned government facility, the first thought in his head is "I wonder what's in there...." Of course, this can lead to trouble, and is a big part of the reason Isaiah has so many bite mark shaped scars. Growlithe bites hurt.
Of course, there is more to him than that. Isaiah is moderately intelligent, able to think up complex plans on the go, especially when it comes to escapes. Even in the thick of things, he is always analyzing his surroundings, finding tactical vantage points and escape vectors. If you ever get into trouble and need to find a way out of it, Isaiah is the one you would want to ask. Above and beyond that though, Isaiah tends to be average in his intelligence. But that doesn't matter to him, and he doesn't mind not being the smartest. Who cares after all, when you can escape almost any situation you need.
Beyond those two things, Isaiah is a kind young man with a naivety about him. He is willing to trust almost anyone at least once, and likes to make friends. He acts younger than he is when he is relaxed, giving others the impression of immaturity. The truth though, is that Isaiah just wants to have fun while he can, and refuses to let a corrupt world push that down. However, put him into a serious situation, and you can count on him for serious backup.
Isaiah also has latent violent tendencies. He used to carry a gun with him, which is how he developed a great skill as a marksman, and a knowledge of gun care and maintenance. However. He realized after some time that when he had the gun, he wanted to use the gun. After his first kill, an unarmed regime member who was going to report him, Isaiah took the gun apart completely, put it in a case, and let it stay in the bottom of his backpack, unusable. However, this hasn't prevented some of his more violent tendencies for getting out, and Isaiah has a great love for street fights, whether with thieves or unarmed Regime members.
{symbol of your choice} Physical Description {symbol of your choice}
Isaiah is tall, standing just at 6 feet. Dark brown, short hair covers his head in a messy form, and he is almost always wearing a hoodie and jeans to help disguise himself. If you were to get his hood off, you could see bite mark scars on his neck, and even more down his body if you pulled off his clothes. Intelligent blue eyes peek out from under thick bangs, and a twice broken nose, bent to one side, makes it impossible to think of him as classically attractive.
Change log
- changed birthday to August 29th. |
361 | 7 | 10 | 2,234 | 198 | Lilith
Lilith was alone on a hilltop overlooking the valley below her. Why, however, she was unsure. Watching -doing nothing- was a boring job, one for petty soldiers, not spec ops. Still, her CO had commanded her to watch over the kill, make sure nothing went wrong. "She's a high priority target, very dangerous", he had said. Bullshit. Lilith thought. She was fairly certain he was just punishing her for her last assignment -which had ended in failure. If someone would've listened to me rather than run off to play -- the thought was cut short by some commotion on scene. Her eyes focused in on the Electabuzz that had just made its explosive entrance. "Wow. Why can't you be that useful?" she seemed to say to the wind. In response, a stray tongue materialized out of thin air, followed by the sound of someone blowing a raspberry. Lilith figured she was now covered by some sort of formless ectoplasmic spit. "You're such a child," she said disdainfully, "You know what to do. Gengar, kill." With that the apparition left her, off to -hopefully- perform its duties.
Though typically sparsely populated, this forest was quite lively at the present. From her position high above the action, Lilith watched as everything unfolded. The rebel below seemed to be getting away. In chase, the scientist, floated on her standard-issue Metang. The sniper -which Lilith would've missed had she not been trained to look for the glare of an enemy scope- was stationed at a position on the adjacent hill. After watching the sniper down two of her regime compadres, Lilith determined it to be the most vital target; the thrill of the chase would soon begin. Hopefully Gengar would be there by now, in position for when he was needed. With that, Lilith silently began moving towards the target. She hoped, at the very least, that this one would be more challenging than those prior.
Thankfully for Lilith, she was downwind from the target, which had now become a group of targets. Lucky me! she thought, pleased to find such a large helping of... playthings. From a vantage point above the clearing in which the four rebels had now gathered, Lilith waited. Finally, she saw a rippling of light in front of the sniper. Simultaneously, all the light in the clearing seemed to dim, the air growing suddenly colder. Out of the ground rose an ominous darkness. With her pokemon preoccupied, she's as good as dead. Lilith thought as a Gengar formed out of the strange blackness. The performance was going so well, Lilith had to fight down shivers. She suspected by this time the rebels might also be shivering, though for an entirely different reason. Blood-red eyes leveled with those of the sniper, quickly enough to prevent a response, but not enough so that no fear could be felt by the victim. Lilith let out a shrill laugh at the sight of her success.
...Wait a minute. The sniper had yet to fall down dead. Lilith's head turned questioningly. What the... Lilith realized with dread that Gengar had in fact not killed the target, but had instead passed a wet, slimy tongue over her face. Just as fast as it had appeared, Gengar vanished into the wind. "AHHHHH! You idiot!" Lilith screamed. "Until next time! I'm not finished with you yet!" she yelled to the group below her while retreating back into the depths of the forest.
Lilith, once she had distanced herself enough to be sure she wouldn't be detected, called the failure into her CO. Though she expected punishment, she instead received more orders. Follow them. Figure out what they are up to. We need to know if the rebellion is organizing again. | Aiden Iri
"Today is as good as any to die." -Unknown
~Life is a highway - Tom Cochrane || ~Born to be wild - Steppenwolf
Specs
🔥 Full Name 🔥
Aiden Iri
🔥 Nickname 🔥
Uhhh... see above.
🔥 Sex Identification 🔥
Male, straight.
🔥 Birth-date 🔥
4 May 2323 ; 24yo
🔥 Place of Birth 🔥
Anchorage, AK
🔥 Additional Info 🔥
6'2"; 194 lbs; lean build
History
🔥 Rebel or Regime? 🔥
REBEL
🔥 Pokemon Companion 🔥
Eithina, an Eevee
🔥 History with Pokemon 🔥
Found Eithina a few years back, running from some regime thugs. Abandoned in a alley, beat to hell; I couldn't just leave her there. Course, I always knew how to take care of animals, what with me growing up on a farm an' all. Fixing her up was no trouble. As for her fear of others, we're still workin' on that. As for now, I keep her safe, she keeps me company. Anyway that's the short of it."
🔥 Short Biography 🔥
"I was taught since birth to defend my principles, what I saw right, on pain of death. Both my ma and pa believed this, lived it. All well and good, 'til they were killed for it. Bunch of regime assholes sayin' the farm wasn't producing enough and that they would have to take it over. Course they took it in the end anyways. With nothin' but the blood of my loved ones holding me to the land, I ran. I was...probably fifteen at the time. Been runnin' ever since, looking for a chance to avenge my kin and all the others the regime has wronged."
Aiden lived on a miltank / cattle farm in his early years. Despite the regime's tight grasp on everything, it was perhaps the only way people had any freedom at the time. The regime, with a very watchful eye, allowed Aiden's family to live outside the city, on regime government land populated by regime animals.
🔥 Persona 🔥
Aiden is a driven spirit, more-so than many others. His belief is that a man's only worth the sweat on his brow and the strength of his back. That is to say, he believes strongly in the power of hard work. Before his parents' death, he had drive. Though his past changed him, it did not break him. The regime gave him purpose, a target to focus his energy on. He is adamantly opposed to doing anything 'the lazy way', especially if it achieves a less reliable result.
More generally, Aiden is a man of principle. He does his best to live the way his parents saw fit. Above all, he strives to be an honest individual. Lying for personal gain does not sit well with him; he will rarely resort to such behavior. However, he will do anything to keep his friends safe, be it lie, kill, cheat, or steal.
Aiden is a resilient spirit. He is discouraged very little. He always finds a way to work around his problems, which makes him a quite skillful 'builder' (here 'builder' is used to mean, one who makes useful objects out of less useful objects). Rooting in his experience with farm equipment, Aiden enjoys tinkering with anything he can find. Mostly, in this day and age, his knowledge has been implemented to build defensive equipment -rudimentary bombs, handheld weapons, and other lethal instruments. He can most easily take something apart, clean it, put it back together, and tell you how it works, regardless of how complex.
🔥 Physical Description 🔥
At 6'2" and 221 lbs, it would be most apt to describe Aiden as a ball of muscle. Constant wrench turning, along with the exercise gained from evading regime troops, has kept him in peak physical condition. Because razors are a rare find in the post-regime streets, Aiden's sandy hair fluctuates between long and shaven for fairly equal but unpredictable intervals. As of now, it is around four inches in length, left messy and unkempt. His dark brown eyes appear gaunt, weathered.
Eithina
Personality: Eithina is a tough spirit, adaptable to almost any situation she encounters with ease. Her mental toughness is her foundation and has much to do with where she is today. She is also incredibly intelligent for a pokemon, able to understand even complex commands. She enjoys volunteering in Aiden's builds, often by acting as a "go-fer". She is somewhat able to interpret English numbers, though only ones with very little variance (IE, not hand-written).
Though she is very proficient alone, she has a personality like an uncontrollable fire, making teamwork more difficult. She is very competitive, aggressive even, and resorts quickly to fighting. She is also very reluctant to form good relationships, be it with new people or new pokemon. Despite her shortcomings, Eithina is very protective of those she considers a friend.
Appearance: Apart from a standard Eevee, Eithina has a small portion of the tip of her left ear torn off. Additionally, she wears a red scarf, which she is never seen without.
Lilith Absinthe
"Can't I just say something clever and quote myself?" -Lilith
~F****d Up World - The Pretty Reckless || ~Paranoia - ADTR
Look at me! LOOK AT ME!
💗 Full-Birth Given Name 💗
"Lilith Malina Absinthe, present and accounted for!"
💗 Nickname 💗
"Lilly, Lilith, Sin; anything really, if it gets my attention!"
💗 Sex Identification 💗
"Female, and I'm not picky."
💗 Birthdate 💗
18 March 2328, 19
💗 Place of Birth 💗
Prairie Village, Nebraska
💗 Also Knowing 💗
"Killing is my favorite ;)!!!"
My Appetite for Destruction
💗 Rebel or Regime? 💗
REGIME
💗 Pokemon Companion 💗
Gengar
💗 History with Pokemon 💗
"Gengar was given to me by the regime recently. He was supposed to help me hunt down nasty rebels, but most the time he has other ideas. Though he is pretty headstrong, I think he knows who his evil overlord is (ME!!). Despite our differences, we both enjoy unchecked violence, so I'm sure we'll get along fine =)."
💗 Short Biography 💗
Lilith had trouble relating to anyone as a child. Even her own parents feared the darkness they saw inside her. What others saw as some sort of insanity however, the regime saw as a useful combat tool. At the age of ten, Lilith was plucked from her normal life and placed in a regime academy. Though she wasn't the biggest or the smartest, she seemed to have an innate aptitude for violence. After progressing quickly through even the most difficult regime training, Lilith was given her pokemon servant and sent on her way.
💗 Persona 💗
Lilith is a great advocate of all things destructive. She is incredibly flashy, preferring only the most explosive methods possible for hunting and killing her rebel enemies. One might say that showmanship is her middle name. She is able to operate on much higher levels of 'crazy' than most others. Because of this, she is quite skilled at hatching and carrying out complex plans. Though seemingly committed to the regime, her alliances only lie with those that can offer her the most fun. As of now, the regime is the highest bidder.
💗 Physical Description 💗
Lilith is rather small, at 5'5" and 124lbs. Though she seems scrawny, she is actually rather tough. Her hair is as wild as her personality, typically worn long. Her eyes, though playful, have a darkness in them. |
362 | 7 | 11 | 19 | 1,003 | Interactions: Jackson (@Self) || Isaiah () || Shade () || Lillith ()
"My name is Jackson Kincaid. I mean you no harm." Raven glared up at the man, not believing his words for a second. Regime weren't trustworthy. Once she caught her breath some from colliding into the guy beside her, having had the wind practically knocked right out of her, she put her index and thumb to her mouth and whistled softly. Soft enough for surrounding Regime officers still in the area not to hear but Electabuzz would hear it. She knew he'd come find her once he heard the whistle. He was a great tracker, even for his breed which didn't typically care to do such things.
"Just," the guy seemed to eyeball the soldier, with good reason, too. Who were they to believe his lies? Definitely not stupid, that's for sure. "-call me 'Vantage'." Raven looked up at Vantage and scoffed, shaking her head as she got up and dusted herself off, all the while keeping an eye on Kincaid. "Yeah, I don't think so, Cowboy. Ain't telling you shit. You can take me back to base and try getting it out of me there, but here, I won't give up a thing." Glancing at Vantage, she looked at him like 'What the hell is wrong with you?!' before smiling as Electabuzz broke through the trees and came to stand behind her. The Electabuzz, at average height would stand roughly at 3ft tall, however hers was about a foot and a half shorter than herself and a foot taller than most in it's breed.
"Why should we believe you? I get it, you put your gun down and told your little power pup over there to heel," Raven smiled when the Houndour beside Kincaid bared it's teeth at her, "-but seriously, you're Regime. You assholes always have another motive up your sleeves." Before Raven could completely finish, a flash of black and red fell from the trees above Kincaid and landed on is back. A Sneasel was now mounted on his shoulders, it's sharp claws at his neck ready to slice him wide open. "What are you waiting for, Razor? Kill him." Raven looked around for the voice that sprang from nearby, a questionable expression on her face. Electabuzz was growing uneasy beside her, baring his teeth and breathing a bit harder than usual. A soft buzzing from his own electricity building within him as he stared, unmoving at the Sneasel. The Sneasel looked between Kincaid, Vantage and Raven as if wondering whether or not it should kill the man in it's grasp. I mean, not in front of all these nice people, right?
The Sneasel made a sound, and that's when not only the voice came again, the person it belonged to emerged from the trees. Both with an angry expression and tone about them. "What do you mean, 'no'? He’s Regime, we kill bastards like him." The pokemon seemed to return fire with it's own sorts of chattering, the trainer becoming even more fiercely upset with the creature. "I don’t care what he said! He’s with the Regime, he deserves to die." The pokemon stayed in position, and Raven reached back to gently nudge Electabuzz back. Not in an attempt to make another run, but holding him back from joining in. She knew he would if Raven let him, but this wasn't their fight. The girl and the Sneasel seemed to have it handled.
Just then, out of thin air, appeared a bright purple ghost-type pokemon. 'Gengar! Shit, if only I hadn't used Electabuzz's ball on him, I would possibly have a go at catching it.' Raven thought to herself. What she wouldn't give for a Haunter, but a Gengar would do, too. The great big ghost then spat out it's large tongue and drug it across the huntress's face before disappearing into the wind, again. Raven couldn't help but let out a slight giggle which she quickly choked down, she didn't want to piss the huntress off and be her next target. And yet, another voice came from above, causing Raven to look up for the one it belonged to. "AHHHHH! You idiot! Until next time! I'm not finished with you yet!"
Interactions: Isaiah () || Raven (@Self) || Shade () || Lillith ()
Jackson looked between both of them, ready to reply to the girl's response but was cut off by a sudden weight on his back, a couple of sharp blades pressed to his neck. Immediately, Jackson placed a hand at his side to calm his now, full-attack-mode Houndour, forcing his pal to sit impatiently. Houndour sat there eyeing the Sneasel all the while, a slight red glisten in his eyes. He wanted to wrap his mouth around the thing's neck and do unto it what it seemed to be wanting to do to his master. Jackson kept Houndour at bay with a simple hand held out in a fist, meaning simply, 'hold' or 'stay'.
The chattering and voices around Jackson peaked his interest, and he wanted to turn to see who the pokemon on his back belonged to. Wanted desperately to face his attacker, but found himself staring between Vantage and the girl. Was this.. mercenary with either of them? Jackson swallowed hard, feeling the pokemon's claws digging deeper into his throat. A small, thin line of scarlet running down his neck. He dared not move, nor did he dare try to speak. In a situation like this, all Jackson felt he should do was comply. He didn't have the upper hand, and he didn't want to seem like he'd do something. His rifle was safely tucked against his back between himself and the Sneasel. His knife was strapped to his belt, but what good would it do him to try wrestling for it before the damned beast on his back just slit his throat and be done with it. None.
Jackson grit his teeth together tightly, hearing a lick! and the girl in front of him try not to laugh, raising his eyebrow in confusion. 'The fuck just happened?' he thought to himself. From the trees then came a voice, not from the huntress that stood not too far from him, but a new one. The sound of retreat was a bit of relief, but it also sounded as though they had quite a military tone to their voice. 'Regime?' Jackson was almost desperate enough for them to come to his rescue, even if the woman had known he was a dishonorable discharge on the run from said Regime. He didn't wanna die. Not here, and definitely not like this. The girl had been right about one thing, before, in her name-calling. He was a true 'cowboy'. Jackson wished to go out "guns blazin'."
Taking a deep breath, Jackson peeked out of the corner of his eye towards the huntress behind him and spoke in a calm tone. "I'm not a soldier. I simply stole this garb off of a dead one in hopes to get through some of the camps I had to travel through a few miles back. If you don't believe me, travel back south-east about 4 miles and you'll find the massive campsite full of the lot. I got no quarrel with ya'! So if you wouldn't mind, let me go and we can speak in a more formal manner." Jackson's hand was still held out in a fist towards his pokemon, holding houndour in his place. The dark pokemon looked back and forth between his trainer and the two threatening his life, waiting for his next order - whatever it may be. | Jackson Atticus Kincaid
Face Claim: Jeremy Irvine
"The price of being a sheep is boredom. The price of being a wolf is loneliness.
Choose one or the other with great care." -Hugh Macleod
In The End by Linkin Park | Sound the Bugle by Bryan Adams
The Renegade Who Had It Made, Retrieved For A Bounty
☬ Full-Birth Given Name ☬
"Jackson Atticus Kincaid, at your service."
☬ Preferred Name | Nickname ☬
"I prefer to go by Jax, or Jack. Regime just address by last names."
☬ Sex Identification ☬
Bi-Sexual male.
☬ Established In ☬
"September 22, 2323. I'm 24-years-old."
☬ Place of Birth ☬
Queens, New York.
☬ Also Knowing ☬
"I still carry my shock baton and assault rifle with me, though my rifle has no rounds in it. Just for show, and to fool the fools that still think I'm Regime. I stay in my uniform for that specific reason, though I do have a change of clothes in my pack."
This Will Be the End Today of a Wanted Man
☬ Rebel or Regime? ☬
Ex-Regime, turned Rebel.
☬ Pokemon Companion ☬
"I own a Houndour, who I've since named Grimm, that was given to me by the Regime. He and I used to just have a 'master and slave' type relationship as the Regime would have us treat our pokemon, but I've tried getting closer with him since I left. He seems to becoming more fond of me."
☬ History with Pokemon ☬
"I was given Grimm when I was an active soldier for the regime. It used to be, if I said jump he'd immediately do so. Now, he's become my only friend I have. We're trying to better the companionship we've started since I left."
☬ Short Biography ☬
"I grew up in a semi-wealthy family that didn't know what rationing was, like the lower class. My family was decently provided for, and we had relations with people in the Regime. My uncle, specifically, was a military captain. He brought me into the military under his wing when I was just 18 years old. Been a Regime soldier ever since. I know how to avoid them, so it's pretty easy for me to stay out of sight."
☬ Persona ☬
Jackson wants to be a hero, someone that everyone knows and reveres. But barring that, he’s willing to be a sort of dark knight. As the youngest of six and constantly disregarded, Jackson is independent and desperate to prove himself, wanting to show his personal talent and leave a legacy behind in the minds of everyone. But he’s not brash. He is content to observe and work quietly, and he’s very intelligent, which is no small aid. He thinks before he acts and is adept at seeing all sides and analyzing situations so he can act to his best advantage. He wants to be something and make something of himself; proving himself better than anyone could have expected is one of his highest priorities. Jackson's social skills need work. He has somewhat of a low tolerance for certain people and is dismissive of those who are loud, unsubtle, and quick to offer opinions for everything. Nevertheless, other people are often "entitled" to his opinion in the form of his biting sarcastic remarks. Other than that he is a quiet and even somewhat withdrawn guy. While he enjoys the company of some of people, solitude is a balm for him. He has to be able to think and study.
Jackson is a knowledge seeker. He is one of those people who believe that knowledge and intelligence are central to success and power, so many things fascinate him and he could easily be found reading if he wasn't constantly on the run. In his mind no fact or understanding of a process or a tendency is unimportant or useless, and may help a person when they least expect it to. As such, he can usually provide extra information on most any subject, even if he gives it in a condescending manner. He is proud of what he knows, both the facts and the underlying understanding of how things work. Interestingly, though, Jackson’s quiet, studious exterior hides somewhat of a rebellious and unconventional streak. He likes to go his own way and will do it willingly. He also respects authority, but follows rules when it suits him—in other words, most of the time, but not if he has something else in mind that he deems worth the risk of losing points in the eyes of his higher ranking officers or perhaps damaging his image a little. However, as important as that is to him, these moments come very rarely. More frequently his unconventionality is manifested in an experimentative tendency.
Jackson loves a challenge and he loves besting people, but it is usually a private victory for him. He needs not brag and draw attention to his success as long as he knows personally that he has won. However, this is not to say that he doesn’t need others’ acclaim. Being noticed is important to him, and he hates being ignored, but he would rather people notice by themselves how outstanding he truly is. That being said, criticism tends to bounce off of him as well--he is rather selective about what he hears and chooses to take to heart. Despite a sometimes ungracious manner, and a self-preserving and self-benefiting attitude, the guy is not bad at heart. He would always stick up for those he considers his friends, and is not averse to helping even strangers, after he is finished or providing it doesn’t inconvenience him. But when he is hurt, it is common to find him completely withdrawn and intractable, working only for himself in a kind of cool temper that can take a while to thaw out, even with the efforts of his closest friends. Unfortunately, Jackson is also prone to hold grudges after problems with others, and he is stubborn about them, though adaptable in other situations.
Jackson is a careful and patient guy. He’ll watch and wait for a long time with an observant and analyzing eye without feeling a need to do anything himself, gaining something from everything he sees. Not only that, he’s good at making what he sees help him in some way. He’s also good at using all the resources he can to help him achieve whatever goal he has in mind. Jackson is driven and works diligently to achieve any goal he’s set for himself, and places these goals above most other things. As such, he’s very organized; he hates clutter and his personal space, personal appearance, and his management of time and such are all very neat and organized, often following a schedule or other method of keeping everything in its proper place and time. It bothers him when things aren’t set out clearly and prioritized so they can be followed right. He’s a very good multi-tasker and his organization helps him make sure everything gets accomplished exactly when and how he planned it to. If it doesn't, he'll fix it until it does.
☬ Physical Description ☬
Jackson is roughly 6'3" and weighs a total of 194lbs. He keeps his dark brown hair cropped kind of short, maybe only a couple inches in length. His eyes are a light grey color that turn almost hazel when he's upset, which is very rare to see with him. When he gets mad, they seem to turn almost black, they get so dark. His body is toned and he continues to maintain that each and every day. He'll exercise with his houndoor Grimm for hours, when he can.
Maya "Raven" Reyes
Face Claim: Lindsey Morgan
"Rebellion is the only thing that keeps you alive." -Marianne Faithfull
Dare to Believe by Boyce Avenue | Problem by Ariana Grande ft. Iggy Azalea
I'm Heading Straight For the Castle
♠ Full-Birth Given Name ♠
"Maya Reyes. No, I don't possess a middle name."
♠ Preferred Name | Nickname ♠
"I tend to just go by 'Raven'. It's a nickname my mom gave me as a kid."
♠ Sex Identification ♠
Heterosexual female, here.
♠ Established In ♠
"May 20th, 2327. Yes, that makes me 20-years-old."
♠ Place of Birth ♠
New Orleans, Louisiana.
♠ Also Knowing ♠
"I carry a knife with me, it stays strapped to the inside of my jacket, while I also have an axe I keep at my hip. What?.. Safety Precautions."
They Wanna Make Me Their Queen
♠ Rebel or Regime? ♠
"Rebel. Not hard to tell. I'm constantly on the run."
♠ Pokemon Companion ♠
"I have an Electabuzz with me."
♠ History with Pokemon ♠
"Well, I met Electabuzz as an Elekid. He used to hang around my childhood home, and occasionally I would feed him. Even brought him inside from the rain a few nights. My parents didn't like me playing with the wild pokemon, so it was kept quiet for a long time. Elekid, at the time, seemed to be very understanding. Around the time when I turned 15, I was getting deep into my rebellious stage and went so far as to sneak onto a Regime truck and steal a pokeball. Well, technically an Ultra ball. I made sure to find an Ultra because its colors matched Elekid's patterns. When I returned home that night, I couldn't find Elekid anywhere. I searched and searched but he was nowhere to be found. I thought maybe he'd gotten picked up by the Regime while I was gone, so I sat the ball ontop of my dresser and left it as a reminder, thinking I'd never see him again. The next morning, however, I found an Electabuzz in my front yard staring me down. Only thing that told me it wasn't going to attack was the genuine smile on its face. It didn't take me long to realize what had happened. I then asked the, now, Electabuzz if it'd go into a permanent partnership with me. I offered up the pokeball, and promised him if he ever felt threatened by me or just flat out didn't want to be around me anymore, I'd set him free. We've been together ever since. He's my best bud."
♠ Short Biography ♠
"I came from a low-class migrant farmer family who didn't have much to begin with. Poverty is a disease in our family, one spread from generation to generation, even before the wars f*cked everything up even worse. My parents made sure to give my brother and I the best education their money could afford, though. They, as well as my brother, gave up their lives to let me escape The Regime. Our parents were late on their payments, and The Regime came to claim what wasn't rightfully theirs. Since I had my own pokemon that wasn't registered, my parents advised me to leave. My brother tried to join me, but they caught on that we were on the run and he created a diversion. I've been on the run with Electabuzz ever since."
♠ Persona ♠
Upon a first meeting, Raven is usually rather quiet. Although she likes the company of people, she doesn't typically approach others unless she's pretty sure they'll welcome it. Once acquainted with someone, though, she can be quite animated and talkative, more lighthearted and teasing the closer she is to someone. She is fiercely loyal to the people she cares for, helping them at all costs, and is generally kind. Her friends can always rely on her for level-headed advice, a listening ear, or help with classwork--regarding the latter, she's a hard worker that usually enjoys the work she does, and is prone to trying to focus people back on the main subject or task at hand. If she doesn't know someone, however, she can be judgmental at times if someone seems ignorant or shallow; Raven is fairly quick to form opinions of people and sticks to her first impression, unless enough contrasting evidence is set before her.
Raven is naturally outspoken and hates having to mask or hide herself and how she is. She knows how to keep quiet when she has recognized that caution and prudence are necessary, but would prefer to speak her mind, and can be rather blunt. Raven is opinionated and has things to say and ideas to give on everything, which contributes to activity in classes and discussions with her friends. She will doggedly uphold her beliefs no matter what. Raven has an acute sense of right and wrong. She believes in always doing what she believes is the right thing, no matter what other people say and think. She has a high sense of honor and returns assistance and even kindness to anyone who has done her a good turn, no matter how much she may dislike them. She is also usually, if grudgingly, fair, even if this is colored, again, by an inherent dislike of the person she is thinking about or referring to.
Although fairly intelligent, and someone who will give her all and put her mind to something once she gets around to it, Raven's mind can tend to wander off, especially if something big is weighing on her mind and what she's doing is rather mundane. Someone who likes to see the "big picture", she can get caught up in it instead of focusing on what she's doing in the here and now unless they are tied together. However, it's rare that she doesn't complete a task that she's given, even if it starts in a delayed fashion. She tries her hardest to produce good results in whatever she does, and once she decides on a course of action, she is determined to follow it through to the end. Quite stubborn, it is extremely difficult for someone to change her mind after she's made a decision, though she can be influenced successfully while she is still considering her options.
Although she tries to control her temper, it can be quite violent with proper provocation. During the end of the last war, she became much more easily provoked, taking more strongly to old prejudices; this has mostly worn off, but she experiences flare-ups occasionally. This was also accompanied by an increase in impulsiveness and recklessness, but she's really feeling more like her normal self, although a touch of extra spark and fire seems to be part of her for good. In her natural state, though, relatively free from any out-of-the-ordinary stress, Raven tries and usually succeeds in being clear-headed in her decisions, thinking things through.
Although she seems rather unassuming, Raven also is fond of adventure and trying out new things. Because she believes that doing something worthwhile in the world is important, and that there are things that people are just meant to do, she's always wanted to keep doing different things to figure out what she's good at and what she's passionate about. To a degree, she also just enjoys a bit of danger and the unknown, even though she recognizes that stability is often better and has become much more cautious than she was when she was younger. When it comes down to it, Raven values simplicity and straightforwardness in life. To her it's comforting to have a goal and know who you can count on, and having both she feels quite at ease with life. Whatever she does though, there's very little that the young witch regrets, and she's proud of who she is and where she's been.
♠ Physical Description ♠
Raven doesn't stand much taller than 5'6" and weighs a petite 114lbs. Her Mexican and Native features truly stand out with her dark brown, almost black hair, tanned skin and dark eyes to match. She has full lashes and fixed eyebrows to go with them. Her facial expressions usually show she means business, and it's rare to see her smile, but given the chance, she lights up any room. She has two tattoos and a paper crane necklace she wears. One of the tattoos is of black wings, one on each shoulder/arm, to go along with her nickname. The other is a quote across her chest that reads, "Can't put your arms around a memory." |
363 | 7 | 12 | 2,234 | 198 | Isaiah Vantas
Interactions: Kinda everyone really....
Thoughts raced through Isaiah's mind. What to do, what to do. Back on his feet, no gun. No weapon at all actually. Why had he stopped carrying it... that's right. He would have shot Jackson by now if he hadn't. Not a good idea.... Sniper in the woods. Ghost pokemon around... Sneasal and Houndour.... Isaiah ran fingers through his hair and glanced about, wanting to just yell at everyone to shut the hell up for half a second. But no... They wouldn't listen. He was just a kid in the woods.
That gave him an idea. There was a gun in his backpack, if he could assemble the damn thing. But... No ammo. Shit. But then, another thought came to him. Something one of them said. "He is Regime, he deserves to die?" Isaiah quoted, staring at Jackson for emphasis. "Is that what you think? Because if so, you should go jump off a cliff. Seriously, how close minded and hateful can you actually get without becoming Regime? Because I think you are there. If all you do is go around murdering people because of the organization they are with."
Isaiah was pissed off. That mentality was what HE was fighting against. That was the thinking HE wanted to stop. The mentality of 'The ends justify the means' was exactly what the Regime was likely to say, how they acted. Shoot first, ask questions later. It was a part of the reason they were feared and hated. Have an unliscened pokemon with you? It was taken, and you were probably dead. Get called a rebel? You died. No trail, no fairness. It sickened him that some people out there wanted to fight that sort of hatred and fascism, with the exact same thing and call themselves rebels or freedom fighters. "Freaking ridiculous."
Isaiah turned. "Oh yeah. Those of us who don't want to be caught by the regime? I suggest we move. You know. Since several of them are dead and haven't checked in via radio. there are bound to be more coming. Especially with the metang riding scientist running back to a base and nobody chasing her down? I'm going to scavenge the bodies, then I'm out." And like that, Isaiah slipped into the trees and down towards the bodies, his hood up and black clothes blending quite well into the scenery as he began to dig through the remains of the squad for supplies. | Aiden Iri
"Today is as good as any to die." -Unknown
~Life is a highway - Tom Cochrane || ~Born to be wild - Steppenwolf
Specs
🔥 Full Name 🔥
Aiden Iri
🔥 Nickname 🔥
Uhhh... see above.
🔥 Sex Identification 🔥
Male, straight.
🔥 Birth-date 🔥
4 May 2323 ; 24yo
🔥 Place of Birth 🔥
Anchorage, AK
🔥 Additional Info 🔥
6'2"; 194 lbs; lean build
History
🔥 Rebel or Regime? 🔥
REBEL
🔥 Pokemon Companion 🔥
Eithina, an Eevee
🔥 History with Pokemon 🔥
Found Eithina a few years back, running from some regime thugs. Abandoned in a alley, beat to hell; I couldn't just leave her there. Course, I always knew how to take care of animals, what with me growing up on a farm an' all. Fixing her up was no trouble. As for her fear of others, we're still workin' on that. As for now, I keep her safe, she keeps me company. Anyway that's the short of it."
🔥 Short Biography 🔥
"I was taught since birth to defend my principles, what I saw right, on pain of death. Both my ma and pa believed this, lived it. All well and good, 'til they were killed for it. Bunch of regime assholes sayin' the farm wasn't producing enough and that they would have to take it over. Course they took it in the end anyways. With nothin' but the blood of my loved ones holding me to the land, I ran. I was...probably fifteen at the time. Been runnin' ever since, looking for a chance to avenge my kin and all the others the regime has wronged."
Aiden lived on a miltank / cattle farm in his early years. Despite the regime's tight grasp on everything, it was perhaps the only way people had any freedom at the time. The regime, with a very watchful eye, allowed Aiden's family to live outside the city, on regime government land populated by regime animals.
🔥 Persona 🔥
Aiden is a driven spirit, more-so than many others. His belief is that a man's only worth the sweat on his brow and the strength of his back. That is to say, he believes strongly in the power of hard work. Before his parents' death, he had drive. Though his past changed him, it did not break him. The regime gave him purpose, a target to focus his energy on. He is adamantly opposed to doing anything 'the lazy way', especially if it achieves a less reliable result.
More generally, Aiden is a man of principle. He does his best to live the way his parents saw fit. Above all, he strives to be an honest individual. Lying for personal gain does not sit well with him; he will rarely resort to such behavior. However, he will do anything to keep his friends safe, be it lie, kill, cheat, or steal.
Aiden is a resilient spirit. He is discouraged very little. He always finds a way to work around his problems, which makes him a quite skillful 'builder' (here 'builder' is used to mean, one who makes useful objects out of less useful objects). Rooting in his experience with farm equipment, Aiden enjoys tinkering with anything he can find. Mostly, in this day and age, his knowledge has been implemented to build defensive equipment -rudimentary bombs, handheld weapons, and other lethal instruments. He can most easily take something apart, clean it, put it back together, and tell you how it works, regardless of how complex.
🔥 Physical Description 🔥
At 6'2" and 221 lbs, it would be most apt to describe Aiden as a ball of muscle. Constant wrench turning, along with the exercise gained from evading regime troops, has kept him in peak physical condition. Because razors are a rare find in the post-regime streets, Aiden's sandy hair fluctuates between long and shaven for fairly equal but unpredictable intervals. As of now, it is around four inches in length, left messy and unkempt. His dark brown eyes appear gaunt, weathered.
Eithina
Personality: Eithina is a tough spirit, adaptable to almost any situation she encounters with ease. Her mental toughness is her foundation and has much to do with where she is today. She is also incredibly intelligent for a pokemon, able to understand even complex commands. She enjoys volunteering in Aiden's builds, often by acting as a "go-fer". She is somewhat able to interpret English numbers, though only ones with very little variance (IE, not hand-written).
Though she is very proficient alone, she has a personality like an uncontrollable fire, making teamwork more difficult. She is very competitive, aggressive even, and resorts quickly to fighting. She is also very reluctant to form good relationships, be it with new people or new pokemon. Despite her shortcomings, Eithina is very protective of those she considers a friend.
Appearance: Apart from a standard Eevee, Eithina has a small portion of the tip of her left ear torn off. Additionally, she wears a red scarf, which she is never seen without.
Lilith Absinthe
"Can't I just say something clever and quote myself?" -Lilith
~F****d Up World - The Pretty Reckless || ~Paranoia - ADTR
Look at me! LOOK AT ME!
💗 Full-Birth Given Name 💗
"Lilith Malina Absinthe, present and accounted for!"
💗 Nickname 💗
"Lilly, Lilith, Sin; anything really, if it gets my attention!"
💗 Sex Identification 💗
"Female, and I'm not picky."
💗 Birthdate 💗
18 March 2328, 19
💗 Place of Birth 💗
Prairie Village, Nebraska
💗 Also Knowing 💗
"Killing is my favorite ;)!!!"
My Appetite for Destruction
💗 Rebel or Regime? 💗
REGIME
💗 Pokemon Companion 💗
Gengar
💗 History with Pokemon 💗
"Gengar was given to me by the regime recently. He was supposed to help me hunt down nasty rebels, but most the time he has other ideas. Though he is pretty headstrong, I think he knows who his evil overlord is (ME!!). Despite our differences, we both enjoy unchecked violence, so I'm sure we'll get along fine =)."
💗 Short Biography 💗
Lilith had trouble relating to anyone as a child. Even her own parents feared the darkness they saw inside her. What others saw as some sort of insanity however, the regime saw as a useful combat tool. At the age of ten, Lilith was plucked from her normal life and placed in a regime academy. Though she wasn't the biggest or the smartest, she seemed to have an innate aptitude for violence. After progressing quickly through even the most difficult regime training, Lilith was given her pokemon servant and sent on her way.
💗 Persona 💗
Lilith is a great advocate of all things destructive. She is incredibly flashy, preferring only the most explosive methods possible for hunting and killing her rebel enemies. One might say that showmanship is her middle name. She is able to operate on much higher levels of 'crazy' than most others. Because of this, she is quite skilled at hatching and carrying out complex plans. Though seemingly committed to the regime, her alliances only lie with those that can offer her the most fun. As of now, the regime is the highest bidder.
💗 Physical Description 💗
Lilith is rather small, at 5'5" and 124lbs. Though she seems scrawny, she is actually rather tough. Her hair is as wild as her personality, typically worn long. Her eyes, though playful, have a darkness in them. |
364 | 7 | 13 | 2,502 | 1,203 | Shade
When the air became dimmer and colder, Shade became even more guarded than she already was. There were only a few Pokemon that she knew of who could have such an effect, and with most of those acting hastily was a good way to end up dead. The fact that most Pokemon had little to no conception of good or bad had little bearing on how dangerous they could be.
She looked around warily, trying to locate the source of the change and hoping that the others would take the hint and not do anything stupid that might provoke the new arrival. When a patch of ground darkened and smiled at her with crimson eyes, she froze. Gengar. Of all the Spectral Ones that she could have encountered, this one was the least desirable on account of their capricious temperaments. Gengar were notoriously difficult to predict, especially wild ones, and their moods could change by the second; one moment harmless and playful pranksters, the next persistent and cruel tormentors.
Still, this was not the first time that Shade had dealt with Ghosts, and she made no effort to conceal her consternation. Much like many Psychic types, with whom they shared a number of similarities, Ghosts were very sensitive to emotions, and if Gengar's had any consistency it was that their actions often were to provoke responses. It was a delicate line to walk. Maintain a stoic face, and the Gengar might be impressed at the display of self-control, or insulted at how little its efforts were thought of. Show fear, and it might leave having gotten what it desired, or it might persist in its games.
For her part, Shade chose a middle ground; as the Shadow Pokemon rose up out of the ground to float in front of her, she allowed it to see that it had indeed succeeded in frightening her, but now that she was aware of its presence, that fear would not control her. She also lowered her rifle a little and bent her head, murmuring, ”Welcome, honoured Spectre. May the night’s embrace aid you in your wanderings.”
The Gengar's smile faltered, apparently surprised at her words. Its leering eyes narrowed, as though it suspected a trick of some sort. When none was forthcoming, it abruptly sniggered and lunged forward, swiping its broad tongue up her face, knocking her hood back and leaving her a sticky mess. Slightly stunned by the wholly unexpected tongue-bath, Shade could only watch as the Gengar dissolved into air, still sniggering at her, its crimson eyes the last to vanish.
... Thanks?
A shrill shout startled her back to reality. Clearly feminine, but far enough away that the words were indistinct, the voice’s owner had already vanished as Shade looked about for it. Still, it did serve as a good reminder that they were all still very near to enemy territory. Best to deal with things here quickly and move on, it was doubtful that the exploding trucks had gone unnoticed. Even if they had, once the trucks failed to report in, and the plumes of smoke were seen, somebody would put two and two together and come investigating. Shade wanted to be long gone by that time.
"I'm not a soldier. I simply stole this garb off of a dead one in hopes to get through some of the camps I had to travel through a few miles back. If you don't believe me, travel back south-east about 4 miles and you'll find the massive campsite full of the lot. I got no quarrel with ya'! So if you wouldn't mind, let me go and we can speak in a more formal manner."
The uniformed man’s words did make her pause though. Over the past few years, Shade had been no stranger to looting Regime corpses. Things like ammunition were difficult to come by in the wild, even when limiting her bullets to soldiers. His reasoning was somewhat sound as well, back north you dressed for the weather, or the weather would kill you as quickly as any gun. If he was telling the truth about the camp though (she'd come out of the northeast), why was he still wearing the uniform? Only Regime soldiers wore them, and impersonating one was almost as bad as having an unlicensed Pokemon. Plus, he was lucky that she hadn't already shot him.
As she thought about it, she ignored the other boy entirely. Shade had no interest in dealing with naive morons who still deluded themselves into thinking that the Regime could be reasoned with. It didn't want to be reasoned with; the only thing the Regime cared to understand was exploiting Pokemon and murdering anyone who disagreed with them. You were either with the Regime, or you were against them, there was no middle ground. She make those rules, the Regime did, and anyone who made the choice to side with the Regime (and they always had a choice) would get no mercy from her. That was the reality of war, he'd see that soon enough.
”... Come’re Razor.” The Sneasel’s little ears twitched at her words, and he leaped back up into the trees, easily making his way back to her. Her gun, however, remained firmly trained on the uniformed man. ”Wearing that is a good way to get shot, by somebody.” Her eyes narrowed. ”And I don't trust anybody who keeps it around with them. If you're really not with them, then prove it.” She gestured to him as he turned around, the tone of her voice indicated just how serious her next words were. ”I want to see you burn it. Until then, you'll excuse me if I keep you where I can see you.” | Isiah "Vantage" Vantas
Everything is theoretically impossible, unti it is done. -Robert A. Heinlein
How far we've come by Matchbox 20 | You're going down by Sick Puppies
Start of the end of the world, but...
♍ Full-Birth Given Name ♍
"Isaiah Vantas, at your service."
♍ Preferred Name | Nickname ♍
"Isaiah is fine, if we're friends. Otherwise, call me Vantage."
♍ Sex Identification ♍
"I'm not sure why you need to know, but I'm a straight male."
♍ Established In ♍
"I'm 19 (or possibly, 20), Born August 28, 2328."
♍ Place of Birth ♍
"Boston, Massachusetts"
♍ Also Knowing ♍
"I know my way around a gun very well, though I don't carry one. I'm also damn good at climbing vertical surfaces."
Its feeling just like every other morning before.
♍ Rebel or Regime? ♍
"Rebel. I want freedom, like the last books speak of..."
♍ Pokemon Companion ♍
"I've never had a Pokémon stick around, but I'd love a Gardevoir..."
♍ History with Pokemon ♍
"Like I said, I don't have any Pokémon, but you can be sure I'll tell you when I do."
♍ Short Biography ♍
"I never had a lot in life, but I never thought it was bad. My parents were like most others in my town. Poor, hard working, and always scared. But I thought that was just how people lived. That is, until I stumbled upon a group of rebel sympathizers on the outskirts of town. They were at peace, enjoying life with their Pokémon and doing everything they could to be happy. But it didn't last.... The regime came for them, and wiped out most of the town as well."
"Since that event, I've been travelling around collecting books and recordings of the past... I want to recreate that world, where everyone could be happy, and where Pokémon were our friends, instead of the machines of war the Regime insists they are."
{symbol of your choice} Persona {symbol of your choice}
If Isaiah could be described fully in a single word, that word would be "curious." Curiosity is what drives Isaiah in most of his adventures. Sure, he has his reasons beyond it, but when he sees an abandoned library, a boarded up house, or an abandoned government facility, the first thought in his head is "I wonder what's in there...." Of course, this can lead to trouble, and is a big part of the reason Isaiah has so many bite mark shaped scars. Growlithe bites hurt.
Of course, there is more to him than that. Isaiah is moderately intelligent, able to think up complex plans on the go, especially when it comes to escapes. Even in the thick of things, he is always analyzing his surroundings, finding tactical vantage points and escape vectors. If you ever get into trouble and need to find a way out of it, Isaiah is the one you would want to ask. Above and beyond that though, Isaiah tends to be average in his intelligence. But that doesn't matter to him, and he doesn't mind not being the smartest. Who cares after all, when you can escape almost any situation you need.
Beyond those two things, Isaiah is a kind young man with a naivety about him. He is willing to trust almost anyone at least once, and likes to make friends. He acts younger than he is when he is relaxed, giving others the impression of immaturity. The truth though, is that Isaiah just wants to have fun while he can, and refuses to let a corrupt world push that down. However, put him into a serious situation, and you can count on him for serious backup.
Isaiah also has latent violent tendencies. He used to carry a gun with him, which is how he developed a great skill as a marksman, and a knowledge of gun care and maintenance. However. He realized after some time that when he had the gun, he wanted to use the gun. After his first kill, an unarmed regime member who was going to report him, Isaiah took the gun apart completely, put it in a case, and let it stay in the bottom of his backpack, unusable. However, this hasn't prevented some of his more violent tendencies for getting out, and Isaiah has a great love for street fights, whether with thieves or unarmed Regime members.
{symbol of your choice} Physical Description {symbol of your choice}
Isaiah is tall, standing just at 6 feet. Dark brown, short hair covers his head in a messy form, and he is almost always wearing a hoodie and jeans to help disguise himself. If you were to get his hood off, you could see bite mark scars on his neck, and even more down his body if you pulled off his clothes. Intelligent blue eyes peek out from under thick bangs, and a twice broken nose, bent to one side, makes it impossible to think of him as classically attractive.
Change log
- changed birthday to August 29th. |
365 | 7 | 14 | 19 | 1,003 | Interactions: (@Self) || Isaiah () || Shade ()
”Take off the uniform, and burn it.” Everything else was a blur to Jackson. Nothing the huntress, nor the other guy had said before really sunk in. But burning his uniform? It'd been almost like a security blanket, in a way. He felt safe when he had it on, although at the same time it was a huge target on his back as well. Maybe it was time to blend in with the crowd?.. Jackson eyed the woman and her Sneasel, tapping his thigh to make Houndour close in to him, making him sit at his feet. "Why should I have to burn it? I'll just steal a new one from another dead soldier. You really want to sit here and waste that time that I'd have to undress in front of all you fine people, burn this uniform, and have to get redressed? By the time that happens, there will be Regime all over this forest. They're already on their way, no doubt, with that explosion from earlier and the heavy smoke that now rises through the skies. We have to go. There's no time for your silly games, Miss. Maybe another time, but for now, we need to move." Jackson risked reaching back into his waistband to retrieve his pistol to which he brought forward, releasing the clip and popping the round in the chamber out. He did the same with his rifle, storing both mags into his backpack along with the pistol. He then shouldered his pack and empty rifle, whistling low for Houndour to follow.
"Kill me if you don't believe me, just don't hurt my dog. He won't hurt you unless I tell him to." Jackson had left one thing out, but figured it didn't matter whether it was said or not. He didn't fear death. It was something the Regime took from him. Jackson didn't fear much anymore, except getting caught. There was nothing but death for him no matter where he turned, and if he was to die at the hands of some wanderer, it'd be much quicker than the Regime would have done it. Slow and painful. Calling over his shoulder, he made one final remark before walking off in long strides into the North East. "Do what you wish, but I'd hurry up and decide fast."
Raven stood there looking between the three strangers around her, watching the supposed soldier walk off with his Houndour trotting just behind him. Electabuzz behind her was still focused on the Sneasel, his eyes slightly aglow. Raven turned to see him staring, and she gently nudged him out of his trance, walking slowly towards the soldier as she dipped her head to the girl with the sniper respectfully. "I would assume you were the one to help me, before. Thank you, kindly. I owe you my life, in the most literal sense. If our paths ever happen to cross in the future, anything you need, I'm there.. but, I think I'll be going with him." She jams her thumb off into the direction Jackson was beginning to disappear in the trees. "If he is who he says he is, and he's not Regime, he seems to have made it quite far. If he is a soldier, well.. I'm pretty sure I could handle myself. Least got someone who's got my back." Electabuzz beamed, knowing too well that Raven had meant him. She, too, smiled back at him and bowed her head to the huntress before limp-running off after Jackson, yelling a 'Hey wait up!' after him. | Jackson Atticus Kincaid
Face Claim: Jeremy Irvine
"The price of being a sheep is boredom. The price of being a wolf is loneliness.
Choose one or the other with great care." -Hugh Macleod
In The End by Linkin Park | Sound the Bugle by Bryan Adams
The Renegade Who Had It Made, Retrieved For A Bounty
☬ Full-Birth Given Name ☬
"Jackson Atticus Kincaid, at your service."
☬ Preferred Name | Nickname ☬
"I prefer to go by Jax, or Jack. Regime just address by last names."
☬ Sex Identification ☬
Bi-Sexual male.
☬ Established In ☬
"September 22, 2323. I'm 24-years-old."
☬ Place of Birth ☬
Queens, New York.
☬ Also Knowing ☬
"I still carry my shock baton and assault rifle with me, though my rifle has no rounds in it. Just for show, and to fool the fools that still think I'm Regime. I stay in my uniform for that specific reason, though I do have a change of clothes in my pack."
This Will Be the End Today of a Wanted Man
☬ Rebel or Regime? ☬
Ex-Regime, turned Rebel.
☬ Pokemon Companion ☬
"I own a Houndour, who I've since named Grimm, that was given to me by the Regime. He and I used to just have a 'master and slave' type relationship as the Regime would have us treat our pokemon, but I've tried getting closer with him since I left. He seems to becoming more fond of me."
☬ History with Pokemon ☬
"I was given Grimm when I was an active soldier for the regime. It used to be, if I said jump he'd immediately do so. Now, he's become my only friend I have. We're trying to better the companionship we've started since I left."
☬ Short Biography ☬
"I grew up in a semi-wealthy family that didn't know what rationing was, like the lower class. My family was decently provided for, and we had relations with people in the Regime. My uncle, specifically, was a military captain. He brought me into the military under his wing when I was just 18 years old. Been a Regime soldier ever since. I know how to avoid them, so it's pretty easy for me to stay out of sight."
☬ Persona ☬
Jackson wants to be a hero, someone that everyone knows and reveres. But barring that, he’s willing to be a sort of dark knight. As the youngest of six and constantly disregarded, Jackson is independent and desperate to prove himself, wanting to show his personal talent and leave a legacy behind in the minds of everyone. But he’s not brash. He is content to observe and work quietly, and he’s very intelligent, which is no small aid. He thinks before he acts and is adept at seeing all sides and analyzing situations so he can act to his best advantage. He wants to be something and make something of himself; proving himself better than anyone could have expected is one of his highest priorities. Jackson's social skills need work. He has somewhat of a low tolerance for certain people and is dismissive of those who are loud, unsubtle, and quick to offer opinions for everything. Nevertheless, other people are often "entitled" to his opinion in the form of his biting sarcastic remarks. Other than that he is a quiet and even somewhat withdrawn guy. While he enjoys the company of some of people, solitude is a balm for him. He has to be able to think and study.
Jackson is a knowledge seeker. He is one of those people who believe that knowledge and intelligence are central to success and power, so many things fascinate him and he could easily be found reading if he wasn't constantly on the run. In his mind no fact or understanding of a process or a tendency is unimportant or useless, and may help a person when they least expect it to. As such, he can usually provide extra information on most any subject, even if he gives it in a condescending manner. He is proud of what he knows, both the facts and the underlying understanding of how things work. Interestingly, though, Jackson’s quiet, studious exterior hides somewhat of a rebellious and unconventional streak. He likes to go his own way and will do it willingly. He also respects authority, but follows rules when it suits him—in other words, most of the time, but not if he has something else in mind that he deems worth the risk of losing points in the eyes of his higher ranking officers or perhaps damaging his image a little. However, as important as that is to him, these moments come very rarely. More frequently his unconventionality is manifested in an experimentative tendency.
Jackson loves a challenge and he loves besting people, but it is usually a private victory for him. He needs not brag and draw attention to his success as long as he knows personally that he has won. However, this is not to say that he doesn’t need others’ acclaim. Being noticed is important to him, and he hates being ignored, but he would rather people notice by themselves how outstanding he truly is. That being said, criticism tends to bounce off of him as well--he is rather selective about what he hears and chooses to take to heart. Despite a sometimes ungracious manner, and a self-preserving and self-benefiting attitude, the guy is not bad at heart. He would always stick up for those he considers his friends, and is not averse to helping even strangers, after he is finished or providing it doesn’t inconvenience him. But when he is hurt, it is common to find him completely withdrawn and intractable, working only for himself in a kind of cool temper that can take a while to thaw out, even with the efforts of his closest friends. Unfortunately, Jackson is also prone to hold grudges after problems with others, and he is stubborn about them, though adaptable in other situations.
Jackson is a careful and patient guy. He’ll watch and wait for a long time with an observant and analyzing eye without feeling a need to do anything himself, gaining something from everything he sees. Not only that, he’s good at making what he sees help him in some way. He’s also good at using all the resources he can to help him achieve whatever goal he has in mind. Jackson is driven and works diligently to achieve any goal he’s set for himself, and places these goals above most other things. As such, he’s very organized; he hates clutter and his personal space, personal appearance, and his management of time and such are all very neat and organized, often following a schedule or other method of keeping everything in its proper place and time. It bothers him when things aren’t set out clearly and prioritized so they can be followed right. He’s a very good multi-tasker and his organization helps him make sure everything gets accomplished exactly when and how he planned it to. If it doesn't, he'll fix it until it does.
☬ Physical Description ☬
Jackson is roughly 6'3" and weighs a total of 194lbs. He keeps his dark brown hair cropped kind of short, maybe only a couple inches in length. His eyes are a light grey color that turn almost hazel when he's upset, which is very rare to see with him. When he gets mad, they seem to turn almost black, they get so dark. His body is toned and he continues to maintain that each and every day. He'll exercise with his houndoor Grimm for hours, when he can.
Maya "Raven" Reyes
Face Claim: Lindsey Morgan
"Rebellion is the only thing that keeps you alive." -Marianne Faithfull
Dare to Believe by Boyce Avenue | Problem by Ariana Grande ft. Iggy Azalea
I'm Heading Straight For the Castle
♠ Full-Birth Given Name ♠
"Maya Reyes. No, I don't possess a middle name."
♠ Preferred Name | Nickname ♠
"I tend to just go by 'Raven'. It's a nickname my mom gave me as a kid."
♠ Sex Identification ♠
Heterosexual female, here.
♠ Established In ♠
"May 20th, 2327. Yes, that makes me 20-years-old."
♠ Place of Birth ♠
New Orleans, Louisiana.
♠ Also Knowing ♠
"I carry a knife with me, it stays strapped to the inside of my jacket, while I also have an axe I keep at my hip. What?.. Safety Precautions."
They Wanna Make Me Their Queen
♠ Rebel or Regime? ♠
"Rebel. Not hard to tell. I'm constantly on the run."
♠ Pokemon Companion ♠
"I have an Electabuzz with me."
♠ History with Pokemon ♠
"Well, I met Electabuzz as an Elekid. He used to hang around my childhood home, and occasionally I would feed him. Even brought him inside from the rain a few nights. My parents didn't like me playing with the wild pokemon, so it was kept quiet for a long time. Elekid, at the time, seemed to be very understanding. Around the time when I turned 15, I was getting deep into my rebellious stage and went so far as to sneak onto a Regime truck and steal a pokeball. Well, technically an Ultra ball. I made sure to find an Ultra because its colors matched Elekid's patterns. When I returned home that night, I couldn't find Elekid anywhere. I searched and searched but he was nowhere to be found. I thought maybe he'd gotten picked up by the Regime while I was gone, so I sat the ball ontop of my dresser and left it as a reminder, thinking I'd never see him again. The next morning, however, I found an Electabuzz in my front yard staring me down. Only thing that told me it wasn't going to attack was the genuine smile on its face. It didn't take me long to realize what had happened. I then asked the, now, Electabuzz if it'd go into a permanent partnership with me. I offered up the pokeball, and promised him if he ever felt threatened by me or just flat out didn't want to be around me anymore, I'd set him free. We've been together ever since. He's my best bud."
♠ Short Biography ♠
"I came from a low-class migrant farmer family who didn't have much to begin with. Poverty is a disease in our family, one spread from generation to generation, even before the wars f*cked everything up even worse. My parents made sure to give my brother and I the best education their money could afford, though. They, as well as my brother, gave up their lives to let me escape The Regime. Our parents were late on their payments, and The Regime came to claim what wasn't rightfully theirs. Since I had my own pokemon that wasn't registered, my parents advised me to leave. My brother tried to join me, but they caught on that we were on the run and he created a diversion. I've been on the run with Electabuzz ever since."
♠ Persona ♠
Upon a first meeting, Raven is usually rather quiet. Although she likes the company of people, she doesn't typically approach others unless she's pretty sure they'll welcome it. Once acquainted with someone, though, she can be quite animated and talkative, more lighthearted and teasing the closer she is to someone. She is fiercely loyal to the people she cares for, helping them at all costs, and is generally kind. Her friends can always rely on her for level-headed advice, a listening ear, or help with classwork--regarding the latter, she's a hard worker that usually enjoys the work she does, and is prone to trying to focus people back on the main subject or task at hand. If she doesn't know someone, however, she can be judgmental at times if someone seems ignorant or shallow; Raven is fairly quick to form opinions of people and sticks to her first impression, unless enough contrasting evidence is set before her.
Raven is naturally outspoken and hates having to mask or hide herself and how she is. She knows how to keep quiet when she has recognized that caution and prudence are necessary, but would prefer to speak her mind, and can be rather blunt. Raven is opinionated and has things to say and ideas to give on everything, which contributes to activity in classes and discussions with her friends. She will doggedly uphold her beliefs no matter what. Raven has an acute sense of right and wrong. She believes in always doing what she believes is the right thing, no matter what other people say and think. She has a high sense of honor and returns assistance and even kindness to anyone who has done her a good turn, no matter how much she may dislike them. She is also usually, if grudgingly, fair, even if this is colored, again, by an inherent dislike of the person she is thinking about or referring to.
Although fairly intelligent, and someone who will give her all and put her mind to something once she gets around to it, Raven's mind can tend to wander off, especially if something big is weighing on her mind and what she's doing is rather mundane. Someone who likes to see the "big picture", she can get caught up in it instead of focusing on what she's doing in the here and now unless they are tied together. However, it's rare that she doesn't complete a task that she's given, even if it starts in a delayed fashion. She tries her hardest to produce good results in whatever she does, and once she decides on a course of action, she is determined to follow it through to the end. Quite stubborn, it is extremely difficult for someone to change her mind after she's made a decision, though she can be influenced successfully while she is still considering her options.
Although she tries to control her temper, it can be quite violent with proper provocation. During the end of the last war, she became much more easily provoked, taking more strongly to old prejudices; this has mostly worn off, but she experiences flare-ups occasionally. This was also accompanied by an increase in impulsiveness and recklessness, but she's really feeling more like her normal self, although a touch of extra spark and fire seems to be part of her for good. In her natural state, though, relatively free from any out-of-the-ordinary stress, Raven tries and usually succeeds in being clear-headed in her decisions, thinking things through.
Although she seems rather unassuming, Raven also is fond of adventure and trying out new things. Because she believes that doing something worthwhile in the world is important, and that there are things that people are just meant to do, she's always wanted to keep doing different things to figure out what she's good at and what she's passionate about. To a degree, she also just enjoys a bit of danger and the unknown, even though she recognizes that stability is often better and has become much more cautious than she was when she was younger. When it comes down to it, Raven values simplicity and straightforwardness in life. To her it's comforting to have a goal and know who you can count on, and having both she feels quite at ease with life. Whatever she does though, there's very little that the young witch regrets, and she's proud of who she is and where she's been.
♠ Physical Description ♠
Raven doesn't stand much taller than 5'6" and weighs a petite 114lbs. Her Mexican and Native features truly stand out with her dark brown, almost black hair, tanned skin and dark eyes to match. She has full lashes and fixed eyebrows to go with them. Her facial expressions usually show she means business, and it's rare to see her smile, but given the chance, she lights up any room. She has two tattoos and a paper crane necklace she wears. One of the tattoos is of black wings, one on each shoulder/arm, to go along with her nickname. The other is a quote across her chest that reads, "Can't put your arms around a memory." |
366 | 7 | 15 | 2,234 | 198 | Lilith
Interacting with: Shade (), Jackson and Raven (), Isaiah ()
The wind blowing through the treetops had stilled itself, almost as if in anticipation. Nothing moved, save the five man spec ops team silently maneuvering through the undergrowth. Lilith would've prefered a more experience team for this type of encounter, but beggars couldn't be choosers. These were the only soldiers in the area with anything beyond basic qualifications. Besides, she -well not really me, but...- had just blown an almost identical mission. She was lucky to be in a leading position as it was.
Why CO had chosen her for this was beyond her. The mission consisted of the same targets, included the same dangers, set at....the same location? Lilith held up a fist to her team, stopping them in their tracks. They haven't moved...at all? An interesting strategy, one Lilith was keen to take advantage of. It seemed they were still...working out their differences. The regime team now positioned 50 meters away had no such weaknesses. Lilith stifled a giggle, happy to finally take down another mark -with the added bonus of a few more heads. Presently, she signaled her team to begin flanking the clearing on both sides. The death of the breeze would now favor her team, as the Houndour sitting amongst the rebels likely wouldn't pick up a scent til it was too late. Lilith took it as a sign, foreshadowing her success.
While waiting for her team to take up position around the clearing, Lilith thought on the advantages her opponents had. Three of the four had a pokemon: a Sneazel, Houndour, and Electabuzz would be a great help to the rebels. Two of them obviously had weapons, the others might not. It wasn't until this moment that Lilith realized...One of them is ex-regime. Not that it bothered her at all. He will recieve a traitor's death, just like the others she thought. Before she could identify the ex-soldier any further, four clicks sounded in the com she wore in her ear. The sounds indicated that all four members of her team were ready. Let the show begin! A wicked gleam shone in her eyes.
Lilith green-lighted all four soldiers HUD displays, giving them the go ahead. All at once, hell erupted around the unsuspecting group of rebels. The standard-issue Houndours kept by all four regime soldiers went to work lighting ablaze the surrounding forest. The dry wood caught almost instantly, directed by the well-trained pokemon to encircle the rebels in a wall of fire.
Simultaneously, the marksman of her team carried out special orders. He was to assassinate the ex-soldier, greatly reducing the risk of failure. Even though he didn't appear to be spec ops, most regime soldiers could fight their way out of a trap. He had the greatest chance at survival. The soldier let out his rifle's bipod, laying prone to increase his accuracy. The crosshairs of his scope leveled on the target's head. He stopped breathing, readying himself for the kick. He squeezed the trigger slowly...BANG! Before he could fire, an explosion went off in the distance. He had flinched at that, causing his shot to hit the tree behind the ex-regime man. Another truck had, at that moment, blown up.
Lilith waited to see how the rebel group would react, ready to chase after any of the nasties that managed to escape. | Aiden Iri
"Today is as good as any to die." -Unknown
~Life is a highway - Tom Cochrane || ~Born to be wild - Steppenwolf
Specs
🔥 Full Name 🔥
Aiden Iri
🔥 Nickname 🔥
Uhhh... see above.
🔥 Sex Identification 🔥
Male, straight.
🔥 Birth-date 🔥
4 May 2323 ; 24yo
🔥 Place of Birth 🔥
Anchorage, AK
🔥 Additional Info 🔥
6'2"; 194 lbs; lean build
History
🔥 Rebel or Regime? 🔥
REBEL
🔥 Pokemon Companion 🔥
Eithina, an Eevee
🔥 History with Pokemon 🔥
Found Eithina a few years back, running from some regime thugs. Abandoned in a alley, beat to hell; I couldn't just leave her there. Course, I always knew how to take care of animals, what with me growing up on a farm an' all. Fixing her up was no trouble. As for her fear of others, we're still workin' on that. As for now, I keep her safe, she keeps me company. Anyway that's the short of it."
🔥 Short Biography 🔥
"I was taught since birth to defend my principles, what I saw right, on pain of death. Both my ma and pa believed this, lived it. All well and good, 'til they were killed for it. Bunch of regime assholes sayin' the farm wasn't producing enough and that they would have to take it over. Course they took it in the end anyways. With nothin' but the blood of my loved ones holding me to the land, I ran. I was...probably fifteen at the time. Been runnin' ever since, looking for a chance to avenge my kin and all the others the regime has wronged."
Aiden lived on a miltank / cattle farm in his early years. Despite the regime's tight grasp on everything, it was perhaps the only way people had any freedom at the time. The regime, with a very watchful eye, allowed Aiden's family to live outside the city, on regime government land populated by regime animals.
🔥 Persona 🔥
Aiden is a driven spirit, more-so than many others. His belief is that a man's only worth the sweat on his brow and the strength of his back. That is to say, he believes strongly in the power of hard work. Before his parents' death, he had drive. Though his past changed him, it did not break him. The regime gave him purpose, a target to focus his energy on. He is adamantly opposed to doing anything 'the lazy way', especially if it achieves a less reliable result.
More generally, Aiden is a man of principle. He does his best to live the way his parents saw fit. Above all, he strives to be an honest individual. Lying for personal gain does not sit well with him; he will rarely resort to such behavior. However, he will do anything to keep his friends safe, be it lie, kill, cheat, or steal.
Aiden is a resilient spirit. He is discouraged very little. He always finds a way to work around his problems, which makes him a quite skillful 'builder' (here 'builder' is used to mean, one who makes useful objects out of less useful objects). Rooting in his experience with farm equipment, Aiden enjoys tinkering with anything he can find. Mostly, in this day and age, his knowledge has been implemented to build defensive equipment -rudimentary bombs, handheld weapons, and other lethal instruments. He can most easily take something apart, clean it, put it back together, and tell you how it works, regardless of how complex.
🔥 Physical Description 🔥
At 6'2" and 221 lbs, it would be most apt to describe Aiden as a ball of muscle. Constant wrench turning, along with the exercise gained from evading regime troops, has kept him in peak physical condition. Because razors are a rare find in the post-regime streets, Aiden's sandy hair fluctuates between long and shaven for fairly equal but unpredictable intervals. As of now, it is around four inches in length, left messy and unkempt. His dark brown eyes appear gaunt, weathered.
Eithina
Personality: Eithina is a tough spirit, adaptable to almost any situation she encounters with ease. Her mental toughness is her foundation and has much to do with where she is today. She is also incredibly intelligent for a pokemon, able to understand even complex commands. She enjoys volunteering in Aiden's builds, often by acting as a "go-fer". She is somewhat able to interpret English numbers, though only ones with very little variance (IE, not hand-written).
Though she is very proficient alone, she has a personality like an uncontrollable fire, making teamwork more difficult. She is very competitive, aggressive even, and resorts quickly to fighting. She is also very reluctant to form good relationships, be it with new people or new pokemon. Despite her shortcomings, Eithina is very protective of those she considers a friend.
Appearance: Apart from a standard Eevee, Eithina has a small portion of the tip of her left ear torn off. Additionally, she wears a red scarf, which she is never seen without.
Lilith Absinthe
"Can't I just say something clever and quote myself?" -Lilith
~F****d Up World - The Pretty Reckless || ~Paranoia - ADTR
Look at me! LOOK AT ME!
💗 Full-Birth Given Name 💗
"Lilith Malina Absinthe, present and accounted for!"
💗 Nickname 💗
"Lilly, Lilith, Sin; anything really, if it gets my attention!"
💗 Sex Identification 💗
"Female, and I'm not picky."
💗 Birthdate 💗
18 March 2328, 19
💗 Place of Birth 💗
Prairie Village, Nebraska
💗 Also Knowing 💗
"Killing is my favorite ;)!!!"
My Appetite for Destruction
💗 Rebel or Regime? 💗
REGIME
💗 Pokemon Companion 💗
Gengar
💗 History with Pokemon 💗
"Gengar was given to me by the regime recently. He was supposed to help me hunt down nasty rebels, but most the time he has other ideas. Though he is pretty headstrong, I think he knows who his evil overlord is (ME!!). Despite our differences, we both enjoy unchecked violence, so I'm sure we'll get along fine =)."
💗 Short Biography 💗
Lilith had trouble relating to anyone as a child. Even her own parents feared the darkness they saw inside her. What others saw as some sort of insanity however, the regime saw as a useful combat tool. At the age of ten, Lilith was plucked from her normal life and placed in a regime academy. Though she wasn't the biggest or the smartest, she seemed to have an innate aptitude for violence. After progressing quickly through even the most difficult regime training, Lilith was given her pokemon servant and sent on her way.
💗 Persona 💗
Lilith is a great advocate of all things destructive. She is incredibly flashy, preferring only the most explosive methods possible for hunting and killing her rebel enemies. One might say that showmanship is her middle name. She is able to operate on much higher levels of 'crazy' than most others. Because of this, she is quite skilled at hatching and carrying out complex plans. Though seemingly committed to the regime, her alliances only lie with those that can offer her the most fun. As of now, the regime is the highest bidder.
💗 Physical Description 💗
Lilith is rather small, at 5'5" and 124lbs. Though she seems scrawny, she is actually rather tough. Her hair is as wild as her personality, typically worn long. Her eyes, though playful, have a darkness in them. |
367 | 7 | 16 | 2,234 | 198 | Isaiah Vantas
Interactions with Lillith's squad
Actions effect Jackson & Raven || Shade
*Some minutes before the attack*
Isaiah dug through the wreckage, glad for the smoke and dust that still filtered through from the smoking trucks around him. He had begun to scavenge what he could, picking up three intact assault rifles, relevant ammo, two side arms, and three pokeballs, two of which were damaged and unusable. Whether pokemon were inside them was another question. The third was empty however, and Isaiah gave a silent shout in happiness as he shrunk the thing and pocketed it.
He stood up, about to leave when he heard leaves rustle. He turned, seeing a small blue mushroom thing partially hidden behind a tree. A tiny bit of blood seemed to be marking the crown of the shroom. Curiosity hit Isaiah and he headed over, kneeling to pick it, when he realized it was actually a pokemon. "Oh, look at you, out here alone.... You were in one of these I bet..." He motioned to one of the broken pokeballs on the ground. The ralts stared up at him, the red eyes showing under the crown of the head.
Ralts and its evolutions had a peculiar ability to sense emotions and intentions of those around them, and so this ralts knew that Isaiah wouldn't hurt her. Isaiah smiled down at the pokemon and wiped away the blood to see a moderate sized laceration that had stopped bleeding now. "Why don't you come with me, and we can get you patched up?" He offered the ralts his hand, and the ralts nuzzled it gently. Isaiah then picked up the pokemon and placed him in his hood, so that ralt's head just barely cleared the top of Isaiah's.
Just then however, all hell broke loose some yards away from him.
*During the attack*
Isaiah had a selfish thought the moment havoc erupted. He was glad he had left the group behind minutes earlier to go scavenge. He was a good 60 yards away or so, close enough to see what was happening, far enough to not be in it. Still, he couldn't hear anything after the explosion, which had happened close enough that Isaiah now had first degree burns on his face and hands.
"What to do, what to do...." Isaiah mumbled to himself glancing about and shifting to get a view of the clearing. He could see two of the soldiers, the ones nearest him, advancing on the group. Only luck, smoke, and the positioning of himself and the trucks had kept them from noticing him thus far. "Forgive me...." Was all he said as he pulled one of the small bullpop assault rifles that had been in his backpack, the ones scavenged from the soldiers.
Isaiah slid a clip into place with a metallic click, pulled back the charging handle to load in a bullet, and pulled the trigger once, sending a bullet into the back of one soldier's head. "Ralts, teleport!" He yelled, still unable to hear, and therefore speaking far to loudly. Ralts did so, taking them some twenty yards into the forest, out of the line of sight of the soldiers.
Isaiah prepared to reenter the fray, a somewhat sadistic grin on his face. He was ready to kill them all....
Ralts shivered, hating the emotions coming from her new friend.... | Aiden Iri
"Today is as good as any to die." -Unknown
~Life is a highway - Tom Cochrane || ~Born to be wild - Steppenwolf
Specs
🔥 Full Name 🔥
Aiden Iri
🔥 Nickname 🔥
Uhhh... see above.
🔥 Sex Identification 🔥
Male, straight.
🔥 Birth-date 🔥
4 May 2323 ; 24yo
🔥 Place of Birth 🔥
Anchorage, AK
🔥 Additional Info 🔥
6'2"; 194 lbs; lean build
History
🔥 Rebel or Regime? 🔥
REBEL
🔥 Pokemon Companion 🔥
Eithina, an Eevee
🔥 History with Pokemon 🔥
Found Eithina a few years back, running from some regime thugs. Abandoned in a alley, beat to hell; I couldn't just leave her there. Course, I always knew how to take care of animals, what with me growing up on a farm an' all. Fixing her up was no trouble. As for her fear of others, we're still workin' on that. As for now, I keep her safe, she keeps me company. Anyway that's the short of it."
🔥 Short Biography 🔥
"I was taught since birth to defend my principles, what I saw right, on pain of death. Both my ma and pa believed this, lived it. All well and good, 'til they were killed for it. Bunch of regime assholes sayin' the farm wasn't producing enough and that they would have to take it over. Course they took it in the end anyways. With nothin' but the blood of my loved ones holding me to the land, I ran. I was...probably fifteen at the time. Been runnin' ever since, looking for a chance to avenge my kin and all the others the regime has wronged."
Aiden lived on a miltank / cattle farm in his early years. Despite the regime's tight grasp on everything, it was perhaps the only way people had any freedom at the time. The regime, with a very watchful eye, allowed Aiden's family to live outside the city, on regime government land populated by regime animals.
🔥 Persona 🔥
Aiden is a driven spirit, more-so than many others. His belief is that a man's only worth the sweat on his brow and the strength of his back. That is to say, he believes strongly in the power of hard work. Before his parents' death, he had drive. Though his past changed him, it did not break him. The regime gave him purpose, a target to focus his energy on. He is adamantly opposed to doing anything 'the lazy way', especially if it achieves a less reliable result.
More generally, Aiden is a man of principle. He does his best to live the way his parents saw fit. Above all, he strives to be an honest individual. Lying for personal gain does not sit well with him; he will rarely resort to such behavior. However, he will do anything to keep his friends safe, be it lie, kill, cheat, or steal.
Aiden is a resilient spirit. He is discouraged very little. He always finds a way to work around his problems, which makes him a quite skillful 'builder' (here 'builder' is used to mean, one who makes useful objects out of less useful objects). Rooting in his experience with farm equipment, Aiden enjoys tinkering with anything he can find. Mostly, in this day and age, his knowledge has been implemented to build defensive equipment -rudimentary bombs, handheld weapons, and other lethal instruments. He can most easily take something apart, clean it, put it back together, and tell you how it works, regardless of how complex.
🔥 Physical Description 🔥
At 6'2" and 221 lbs, it would be most apt to describe Aiden as a ball of muscle. Constant wrench turning, along with the exercise gained from evading regime troops, has kept him in peak physical condition. Because razors are a rare find in the post-regime streets, Aiden's sandy hair fluctuates between long and shaven for fairly equal but unpredictable intervals. As of now, it is around four inches in length, left messy and unkempt. His dark brown eyes appear gaunt, weathered.
Eithina
Personality: Eithina is a tough spirit, adaptable to almost any situation she encounters with ease. Her mental toughness is her foundation and has much to do with where she is today. She is also incredibly intelligent for a pokemon, able to understand even complex commands. She enjoys volunteering in Aiden's builds, often by acting as a "go-fer". She is somewhat able to interpret English numbers, though only ones with very little variance (IE, not hand-written).
Though she is very proficient alone, she has a personality like an uncontrollable fire, making teamwork more difficult. She is very competitive, aggressive even, and resorts quickly to fighting. She is also very reluctant to form good relationships, be it with new people or new pokemon. Despite her shortcomings, Eithina is very protective of those she considers a friend.
Appearance: Apart from a standard Eevee, Eithina has a small portion of the tip of her left ear torn off. Additionally, she wears a red scarf, which she is never seen without.
Lilith Absinthe
"Can't I just say something clever and quote myself?" -Lilith
~F****d Up World - The Pretty Reckless || ~Paranoia - ADTR
Look at me! LOOK AT ME!
💗 Full-Birth Given Name 💗
"Lilith Malina Absinthe, present and accounted for!"
💗 Nickname 💗
"Lilly, Lilith, Sin; anything really, if it gets my attention!"
💗 Sex Identification 💗
"Female, and I'm not picky."
💗 Birthdate 💗
18 March 2328, 19
💗 Place of Birth 💗
Prairie Village, Nebraska
💗 Also Knowing 💗
"Killing is my favorite ;)!!!"
My Appetite for Destruction
💗 Rebel or Regime? 💗
REGIME
💗 Pokemon Companion 💗
Gengar
💗 History with Pokemon 💗
"Gengar was given to me by the regime recently. He was supposed to help me hunt down nasty rebels, but most the time he has other ideas. Though he is pretty headstrong, I think he knows who his evil overlord is (ME!!). Despite our differences, we both enjoy unchecked violence, so I'm sure we'll get along fine =)."
💗 Short Biography 💗
Lilith had trouble relating to anyone as a child. Even her own parents feared the darkness they saw inside her. What others saw as some sort of insanity however, the regime saw as a useful combat tool. At the age of ten, Lilith was plucked from her normal life and placed in a regime academy. Though she wasn't the biggest or the smartest, she seemed to have an innate aptitude for violence. After progressing quickly through even the most difficult regime training, Lilith was given her pokemon servant and sent on her way.
💗 Persona 💗
Lilith is a great advocate of all things destructive. She is incredibly flashy, preferring only the most explosive methods possible for hunting and killing her rebel enemies. One might say that showmanship is her middle name. She is able to operate on much higher levels of 'crazy' than most others. Because of this, she is quite skilled at hatching and carrying out complex plans. Though seemingly committed to the regime, her alliances only lie with those that can offer her the most fun. As of now, the regime is the highest bidder.
💗 Physical Description 💗
Lilith is rather small, at 5'5" and 124lbs. Though she seems scrawny, she is actually rather tough. Her hair is as wild as her personality, typically worn long. Her eyes, though playful, have a darkness in them. |
368 | 7 | 17 | 2,502 | 1,203 | Shade
Interactions: Jackson, Raven ()
Shade relaxed when the nameless "soldier" disarmed himself, but only slightly. Even as he talked, she was already moving to strip the Regime corpses of anything useful, taking care to slit the throat of each to make sure that they were dead, though she did always position herself so that she could see the man. Ammunition was her interest; any food or medical supplies they might have had was probably burning with the trucks, and more weapons would be too bulky to be practical. Besides which, she got by well enough with her bow and rifle.
She didn’t much care if he thought it was “silly” to burn the uniform, nor did she care when he did it or whether or not he was comfortable. Until he did, she sure as hell wasn’t going to trust him. Hell, she didn’t even trust the others that much either. At least the girl had clearly been a captive, the boys she didn’t know from a hole in the ground. Trust, Shade had found, was something that was almost as valuable as food and water these days. She’d come too far to end up with another knife in her back. If that upset the others, well, they didn’t have to stick around.
Seeing the girl approaching, Shade didn’t focus on her too much, continuing to loot the corpses. When she was thanked for her help, she simply grunted noncommittally. ”Says the girl who got caught once already.” Despite her words, there was no malice behind them. ”Just be careful. People lie.” If the girl wanted to risk it, that was her choice. Shade wasn’t about to tell her what to do. It was her life.
Razor was acting oddly, keeping his gaze locked on the Electabuzz. Whatever was going on between them, Shade was smart enough to stay out of it. There was a lot that people didn’t understand about Pokemon, one of the many reasons that Shade hated the Regime. They acted as though they were above the world instead of part of it, that they could do however they pleased with no consequences. They destroyed everything in their path. People like that were little more than a disease, a dead thing that needed to be cut out.
The detonation of the fuel tank in one of the trucks masked the sound of the gunshot, but it was a reminder enough for Shade that it was time to leave. She had no desire to be captured; in all likelihood, she’d be shot as soon as somebody figured out that she was The Butcher. Hell, the only reason she’d made it this far with such freedom was because soldiers didn’t live long enough to report her face.
Then the forest started burning in other areas, and Shade decided it was really time to go. Razor was already moving, vanishing into the brush and undergrowth, and she was close behind the Sneasel. This was Shade’s element, the reason that she chose that moniker for the few times that she had to interact with people. Nobody could catch her in the forest. Knowing the terrain and being unpredictable were the keys, so when a stream of fire crossed her path, Shade went straight through it, covering her mouth with her sleeve.
As they were running, she saw Razor beginning to angle in the direction the girl and Regime guy had been heading, making her frown. What? No, Razor, what are you doing? Split up, you stupid Sharp Claw, don’t give them one big target to go after! Growling in anger, Shade changed course and headed east, to a deep ravine where she had been camped for the past couple of days, and where there were a few traps waiting for anyone stupid enough to pursue her.
It didn’t take long for the Sneasel to catch up to his targets, leaping from branch to branch with the lithe grace that his species was known for. He screeched and hissed to the Electabuzz, darting in and out of their path in a consistent direction that he wanted them to go. | Isiah "Vantage" Vantas
Everything is theoretically impossible, unti it is done. -Robert A. Heinlein
How far we've come by Matchbox 20 | You're going down by Sick Puppies
Start of the end of the world, but...
♍ Full-Birth Given Name ♍
"Isaiah Vantas, at your service."
♍ Preferred Name | Nickname ♍
"Isaiah is fine, if we're friends. Otherwise, call me Vantage."
♍ Sex Identification ♍
"I'm not sure why you need to know, but I'm a straight male."
♍ Established In ♍
"I'm 19 (or possibly, 20), Born August 28, 2328."
♍ Place of Birth ♍
"Boston, Massachusetts"
♍ Also Knowing ♍
"I know my way around a gun very well, though I don't carry one. I'm also damn good at climbing vertical surfaces."
Its feeling just like every other morning before.
♍ Rebel or Regime? ♍
"Rebel. I want freedom, like the last books speak of..."
♍ Pokemon Companion ♍
"I've never had a Pokémon stick around, but I'd love a Gardevoir..."
♍ History with Pokemon ♍
"Like I said, I don't have any Pokémon, but you can be sure I'll tell you when I do."
♍ Short Biography ♍
"I never had a lot in life, but I never thought it was bad. My parents were like most others in my town. Poor, hard working, and always scared. But I thought that was just how people lived. That is, until I stumbled upon a group of rebel sympathizers on the outskirts of town. They were at peace, enjoying life with their Pokémon and doing everything they could to be happy. But it didn't last.... The regime came for them, and wiped out most of the town as well."
"Since that event, I've been travelling around collecting books and recordings of the past... I want to recreate that world, where everyone could be happy, and where Pokémon were our friends, instead of the machines of war the Regime insists they are."
{symbol of your choice} Persona {symbol of your choice}
If Isaiah could be described fully in a single word, that word would be "curious." Curiosity is what drives Isaiah in most of his adventures. Sure, he has his reasons beyond it, but when he sees an abandoned library, a boarded up house, or an abandoned government facility, the first thought in his head is "I wonder what's in there...." Of course, this can lead to trouble, and is a big part of the reason Isaiah has so many bite mark shaped scars. Growlithe bites hurt.
Of course, there is more to him than that. Isaiah is moderately intelligent, able to think up complex plans on the go, especially when it comes to escapes. Even in the thick of things, he is always analyzing his surroundings, finding tactical vantage points and escape vectors. If you ever get into trouble and need to find a way out of it, Isaiah is the one you would want to ask. Above and beyond that though, Isaiah tends to be average in his intelligence. But that doesn't matter to him, and he doesn't mind not being the smartest. Who cares after all, when you can escape almost any situation you need.
Beyond those two things, Isaiah is a kind young man with a naivety about him. He is willing to trust almost anyone at least once, and likes to make friends. He acts younger than he is when he is relaxed, giving others the impression of immaturity. The truth though, is that Isaiah just wants to have fun while he can, and refuses to let a corrupt world push that down. However, put him into a serious situation, and you can count on him for serious backup.
Isaiah also has latent violent tendencies. He used to carry a gun with him, which is how he developed a great skill as a marksman, and a knowledge of gun care and maintenance. However. He realized after some time that when he had the gun, he wanted to use the gun. After his first kill, an unarmed regime member who was going to report him, Isaiah took the gun apart completely, put it in a case, and let it stay in the bottom of his backpack, unusable. However, this hasn't prevented some of his more violent tendencies for getting out, and Isaiah has a great love for street fights, whether with thieves or unarmed Regime members.
{symbol of your choice} Physical Description {symbol of your choice}
Isaiah is tall, standing just at 6 feet. Dark brown, short hair covers his head in a messy form, and he is almost always wearing a hoodie and jeans to help disguise himself. If you were to get his hood off, you could see bite mark scars on his neck, and even more down his body if you pulled off his clothes. Intelligent blue eyes peek out from under thick bangs, and a twice broken nose, bent to one side, makes it impossible to think of him as classically attractive.
Change log
- changed birthday to August 29th. |
369 | 7 | 18 | 19 | 1,003 | Interactions: (@Self) || Sneasel ()
Jackson and Raven hadn't made it far before a range of different sounds had gone suddenly gone off, one particularly a gun shot. Though it seemed to have been perfectly shot off when a truck engine behind them burst into flames, Jackson had been trained to differentiate sounds like that. The shot had lodged itself into the tree just a few feet away, and caused Jackson to turn back, but only to grab Raven by the arm and haul her forward into a bolted run. "If we get separated, head North East towards Maine. I've heard theres a Refuge of sorts there." Raven wasn't really focused too much on what he was saying. Her head was spinning and was suddenly feeling the need to throw up. Without warning, Raven collapsed to the ground. Jackson stopped in his tracks and looked back at the wall of fire that was closing in on them, knowing full well who was on their tail, and for a split second he almost thought of leaving her for them. Jackson shook the thought from his head and quickly shooed Electabuzz away from her, grabbing her up and placing the unconscious girl on his shoulders, holding one leg and one arm. Raven lay limp over him in the Buddy-Carry position, Electabuzz complaining to Jackson in his ramblings with Houndour growling at him. Seemed as though Houndour was trying to tell him of Jackson's intentions, and it appeared to be working. Electabuzz followed close behind Jackson as he ran with his passed out trainer, keeping a watchful eye out when suddenly he looked up in the tree to see Sneasel. Electabuzz grabbed Jackson's pack and yanked, pointing towards Sneasel and rambled off incoherantly at him. Jackson looked up at the Pokemon and grumbled to himself, following where the Sneasel was trying to lead them. | Jackson Atticus Kincaid
Face Claim: Jeremy Irvine
"The price of being a sheep is boredom. The price of being a wolf is loneliness.
Choose one or the other with great care." -Hugh Macleod
In The End by Linkin Park | Sound the Bugle by Bryan Adams
The Renegade Who Had It Made, Retrieved For A Bounty
☬ Full-Birth Given Name ☬
"Jackson Atticus Kincaid, at your service."
☬ Preferred Name | Nickname ☬
"I prefer to go by Jax, or Jack. Regime just address by last names."
☬ Sex Identification ☬
Bi-Sexual male.
☬ Established In ☬
"September 22, 2323. I'm 24-years-old."
☬ Place of Birth ☬
Queens, New York.
☬ Also Knowing ☬
"I still carry my shock baton and assault rifle with me, though my rifle has no rounds in it. Just for show, and to fool the fools that still think I'm Regime. I stay in my uniform for that specific reason, though I do have a change of clothes in my pack."
This Will Be the End Today of a Wanted Man
☬ Rebel or Regime? ☬
Ex-Regime, turned Rebel.
☬ Pokemon Companion ☬
"I own a Houndour, who I've since named Grimm, that was given to me by the Regime. He and I used to just have a 'master and slave' type relationship as the Regime would have us treat our pokemon, but I've tried getting closer with him since I left. He seems to becoming more fond of me."
☬ History with Pokemon ☬
"I was given Grimm when I was an active soldier for the regime. It used to be, if I said jump he'd immediately do so. Now, he's become my only friend I have. We're trying to better the companionship we've started since I left."
☬ Short Biography ☬
"I grew up in a semi-wealthy family that didn't know what rationing was, like the lower class. My family was decently provided for, and we had relations with people in the Regime. My uncle, specifically, was a military captain. He brought me into the military under his wing when I was just 18 years old. Been a Regime soldier ever since. I know how to avoid them, so it's pretty easy for me to stay out of sight."
☬ Persona ☬
Jackson wants to be a hero, someone that everyone knows and reveres. But barring that, he’s willing to be a sort of dark knight. As the youngest of six and constantly disregarded, Jackson is independent and desperate to prove himself, wanting to show his personal talent and leave a legacy behind in the minds of everyone. But he’s not brash. He is content to observe and work quietly, and he’s very intelligent, which is no small aid. He thinks before he acts and is adept at seeing all sides and analyzing situations so he can act to his best advantage. He wants to be something and make something of himself; proving himself better than anyone could have expected is one of his highest priorities. Jackson's social skills need work. He has somewhat of a low tolerance for certain people and is dismissive of those who are loud, unsubtle, and quick to offer opinions for everything. Nevertheless, other people are often "entitled" to his opinion in the form of his biting sarcastic remarks. Other than that he is a quiet and even somewhat withdrawn guy. While he enjoys the company of some of people, solitude is a balm for him. He has to be able to think and study.
Jackson is a knowledge seeker. He is one of those people who believe that knowledge and intelligence are central to success and power, so many things fascinate him and he could easily be found reading if he wasn't constantly on the run. In his mind no fact or understanding of a process or a tendency is unimportant or useless, and may help a person when they least expect it to. As such, he can usually provide extra information on most any subject, even if he gives it in a condescending manner. He is proud of what he knows, both the facts and the underlying understanding of how things work. Interestingly, though, Jackson’s quiet, studious exterior hides somewhat of a rebellious and unconventional streak. He likes to go his own way and will do it willingly. He also respects authority, but follows rules when it suits him—in other words, most of the time, but not if he has something else in mind that he deems worth the risk of losing points in the eyes of his higher ranking officers or perhaps damaging his image a little. However, as important as that is to him, these moments come very rarely. More frequently his unconventionality is manifested in an experimentative tendency.
Jackson loves a challenge and he loves besting people, but it is usually a private victory for him. He needs not brag and draw attention to his success as long as he knows personally that he has won. However, this is not to say that he doesn’t need others’ acclaim. Being noticed is important to him, and he hates being ignored, but he would rather people notice by themselves how outstanding he truly is. That being said, criticism tends to bounce off of him as well--he is rather selective about what he hears and chooses to take to heart. Despite a sometimes ungracious manner, and a self-preserving and self-benefiting attitude, the guy is not bad at heart. He would always stick up for those he considers his friends, and is not averse to helping even strangers, after he is finished or providing it doesn’t inconvenience him. But when he is hurt, it is common to find him completely withdrawn and intractable, working only for himself in a kind of cool temper that can take a while to thaw out, even with the efforts of his closest friends. Unfortunately, Jackson is also prone to hold grudges after problems with others, and he is stubborn about them, though adaptable in other situations.
Jackson is a careful and patient guy. He’ll watch and wait for a long time with an observant and analyzing eye without feeling a need to do anything himself, gaining something from everything he sees. Not only that, he’s good at making what he sees help him in some way. He’s also good at using all the resources he can to help him achieve whatever goal he has in mind. Jackson is driven and works diligently to achieve any goal he’s set for himself, and places these goals above most other things. As such, he’s very organized; he hates clutter and his personal space, personal appearance, and his management of time and such are all very neat and organized, often following a schedule or other method of keeping everything in its proper place and time. It bothers him when things aren’t set out clearly and prioritized so they can be followed right. He’s a very good multi-tasker and his organization helps him make sure everything gets accomplished exactly when and how he planned it to. If it doesn't, he'll fix it until it does.
☬ Physical Description ☬
Jackson is roughly 6'3" and weighs a total of 194lbs. He keeps his dark brown hair cropped kind of short, maybe only a couple inches in length. His eyes are a light grey color that turn almost hazel when he's upset, which is very rare to see with him. When he gets mad, they seem to turn almost black, they get so dark. His body is toned and he continues to maintain that each and every day. He'll exercise with his houndoor Grimm for hours, when he can.
Maya "Raven" Reyes
Face Claim: Lindsey Morgan
"Rebellion is the only thing that keeps you alive." -Marianne Faithfull
Dare to Believe by Boyce Avenue | Problem by Ariana Grande ft. Iggy Azalea
I'm Heading Straight For the Castle
♠ Full-Birth Given Name ♠
"Maya Reyes. No, I don't possess a middle name."
♠ Preferred Name | Nickname ♠
"I tend to just go by 'Raven'. It's a nickname my mom gave me as a kid."
♠ Sex Identification ♠
Heterosexual female, here.
♠ Established In ♠
"May 20th, 2327. Yes, that makes me 20-years-old."
♠ Place of Birth ♠
New Orleans, Louisiana.
♠ Also Knowing ♠
"I carry a knife with me, it stays strapped to the inside of my jacket, while I also have an axe I keep at my hip. What?.. Safety Precautions."
They Wanna Make Me Their Queen
♠ Rebel or Regime? ♠
"Rebel. Not hard to tell. I'm constantly on the run."
♠ Pokemon Companion ♠
"I have an Electabuzz with me."
♠ History with Pokemon ♠
"Well, I met Electabuzz as an Elekid. He used to hang around my childhood home, and occasionally I would feed him. Even brought him inside from the rain a few nights. My parents didn't like me playing with the wild pokemon, so it was kept quiet for a long time. Elekid, at the time, seemed to be very understanding. Around the time when I turned 15, I was getting deep into my rebellious stage and went so far as to sneak onto a Regime truck and steal a pokeball. Well, technically an Ultra ball. I made sure to find an Ultra because its colors matched Elekid's patterns. When I returned home that night, I couldn't find Elekid anywhere. I searched and searched but he was nowhere to be found. I thought maybe he'd gotten picked up by the Regime while I was gone, so I sat the ball ontop of my dresser and left it as a reminder, thinking I'd never see him again. The next morning, however, I found an Electabuzz in my front yard staring me down. Only thing that told me it wasn't going to attack was the genuine smile on its face. It didn't take me long to realize what had happened. I then asked the, now, Electabuzz if it'd go into a permanent partnership with me. I offered up the pokeball, and promised him if he ever felt threatened by me or just flat out didn't want to be around me anymore, I'd set him free. We've been together ever since. He's my best bud."
♠ Short Biography ♠
"I came from a low-class migrant farmer family who didn't have much to begin with. Poverty is a disease in our family, one spread from generation to generation, even before the wars f*cked everything up even worse. My parents made sure to give my brother and I the best education their money could afford, though. They, as well as my brother, gave up their lives to let me escape The Regime. Our parents were late on their payments, and The Regime came to claim what wasn't rightfully theirs. Since I had my own pokemon that wasn't registered, my parents advised me to leave. My brother tried to join me, but they caught on that we were on the run and he created a diversion. I've been on the run with Electabuzz ever since."
♠ Persona ♠
Upon a first meeting, Raven is usually rather quiet. Although she likes the company of people, she doesn't typically approach others unless she's pretty sure they'll welcome it. Once acquainted with someone, though, she can be quite animated and talkative, more lighthearted and teasing the closer she is to someone. She is fiercely loyal to the people she cares for, helping them at all costs, and is generally kind. Her friends can always rely on her for level-headed advice, a listening ear, or help with classwork--regarding the latter, she's a hard worker that usually enjoys the work she does, and is prone to trying to focus people back on the main subject or task at hand. If she doesn't know someone, however, she can be judgmental at times if someone seems ignorant or shallow; Raven is fairly quick to form opinions of people and sticks to her first impression, unless enough contrasting evidence is set before her.
Raven is naturally outspoken and hates having to mask or hide herself and how she is. She knows how to keep quiet when she has recognized that caution and prudence are necessary, but would prefer to speak her mind, and can be rather blunt. Raven is opinionated and has things to say and ideas to give on everything, which contributes to activity in classes and discussions with her friends. She will doggedly uphold her beliefs no matter what. Raven has an acute sense of right and wrong. She believes in always doing what she believes is the right thing, no matter what other people say and think. She has a high sense of honor and returns assistance and even kindness to anyone who has done her a good turn, no matter how much she may dislike them. She is also usually, if grudgingly, fair, even if this is colored, again, by an inherent dislike of the person she is thinking about or referring to.
Although fairly intelligent, and someone who will give her all and put her mind to something once she gets around to it, Raven's mind can tend to wander off, especially if something big is weighing on her mind and what she's doing is rather mundane. Someone who likes to see the "big picture", she can get caught up in it instead of focusing on what she's doing in the here and now unless they are tied together. However, it's rare that she doesn't complete a task that she's given, even if it starts in a delayed fashion. She tries her hardest to produce good results in whatever she does, and once she decides on a course of action, she is determined to follow it through to the end. Quite stubborn, it is extremely difficult for someone to change her mind after she's made a decision, though she can be influenced successfully while she is still considering her options.
Although she tries to control her temper, it can be quite violent with proper provocation. During the end of the last war, she became much more easily provoked, taking more strongly to old prejudices; this has mostly worn off, but she experiences flare-ups occasionally. This was also accompanied by an increase in impulsiveness and recklessness, but she's really feeling more like her normal self, although a touch of extra spark and fire seems to be part of her for good. In her natural state, though, relatively free from any out-of-the-ordinary stress, Raven tries and usually succeeds in being clear-headed in her decisions, thinking things through.
Although she seems rather unassuming, Raven also is fond of adventure and trying out new things. Because she believes that doing something worthwhile in the world is important, and that there are things that people are just meant to do, she's always wanted to keep doing different things to figure out what she's good at and what she's passionate about. To a degree, she also just enjoys a bit of danger and the unknown, even though she recognizes that stability is often better and has become much more cautious than she was when she was younger. When it comes down to it, Raven values simplicity and straightforwardness in life. To her it's comforting to have a goal and know who you can count on, and having both she feels quite at ease with life. Whatever she does though, there's very little that the young witch regrets, and she's proud of who she is and where she's been.
♠ Physical Description ♠
Raven doesn't stand much taller than 5'6" and weighs a petite 114lbs. Her Mexican and Native features truly stand out with her dark brown, almost black hair, tanned skin and dark eyes to match. She has full lashes and fixed eyebrows to go with them. Her facial expressions usually show she means business, and it's rare to see her smile, but given the chance, she lights up any room. She has two tattoos and a paper crane necklace she wears. One of the tattoos is of black wings, one on each shoulder/arm, to go along with her nickname. The other is a quote across her chest that reads, "Can't put your arms around a memory." |
370 | 7 | 19 | 2,502 | 1,203 | Shade
Pleased, Razor screeched and bounded off through the trees, stopping every couple hundred feet to hang from a branch and make sure that they were following. Gradually, he led them in an easterly curve, ignoring the gunshots and the roar of the flames behind them. The forest growth became denser, sloping downhill for a bit before evening out.
When they crossed a small creek, and the fire was nothing but a large plume of smoke rising up over the trees, the Sneasel suddenly dropped out of the trees, screeching at them. Creating a pair of Ice Shards in his hands, he planted them in the ground, and began leading them personally along a weaving path, no longer rushing like before but still urgent. Every so often he would plant another small Ice Shard in the ground, hissing and waving them away from it.
After a short while, he clambered back up a tree, pointed ahead of them and gave a short screech before hurrying back the way they had come.
At the bottom of the ravine, Shade was finishing up packing her things. The clatter of rocks behind her made her seize her rifle and whirl around, but she relaxed slightly when saw the Electabuzz and pair of humans. ”Didn’t fall in. Good.” | Isiah "Vantage" Vantas
Everything is theoretically impossible, unti it is done. -Robert A. Heinlein
How far we've come by Matchbox 20 | You're going down by Sick Puppies
Start of the end of the world, but...
♍ Full-Birth Given Name ♍
"Isaiah Vantas, at your service."
♍ Preferred Name | Nickname ♍
"Isaiah is fine, if we're friends. Otherwise, call me Vantage."
♍ Sex Identification ♍
"I'm not sure why you need to know, but I'm a straight male."
♍ Established In ♍
"I'm 19 (or possibly, 20), Born August 28, 2328."
♍ Place of Birth ♍
"Boston, Massachusetts"
♍ Also Knowing ♍
"I know my way around a gun very well, though I don't carry one. I'm also damn good at climbing vertical surfaces."
Its feeling just like every other morning before.
♍ Rebel or Regime? ♍
"Rebel. I want freedom, like the last books speak of..."
♍ Pokemon Companion ♍
"I've never had a Pokémon stick around, but I'd love a Gardevoir..."
♍ History with Pokemon ♍
"Like I said, I don't have any Pokémon, but you can be sure I'll tell you when I do."
♍ Short Biography ♍
"I never had a lot in life, but I never thought it was bad. My parents were like most others in my town. Poor, hard working, and always scared. But I thought that was just how people lived. That is, until I stumbled upon a group of rebel sympathizers on the outskirts of town. They were at peace, enjoying life with their Pokémon and doing everything they could to be happy. But it didn't last.... The regime came for them, and wiped out most of the town as well."
"Since that event, I've been travelling around collecting books and recordings of the past... I want to recreate that world, where everyone could be happy, and where Pokémon were our friends, instead of the machines of war the Regime insists they are."
{symbol of your choice} Persona {symbol of your choice}
If Isaiah could be described fully in a single word, that word would be "curious." Curiosity is what drives Isaiah in most of his adventures. Sure, he has his reasons beyond it, but when he sees an abandoned library, a boarded up house, or an abandoned government facility, the first thought in his head is "I wonder what's in there...." Of course, this can lead to trouble, and is a big part of the reason Isaiah has so many bite mark shaped scars. Growlithe bites hurt.
Of course, there is more to him than that. Isaiah is moderately intelligent, able to think up complex plans on the go, especially when it comes to escapes. Even in the thick of things, he is always analyzing his surroundings, finding tactical vantage points and escape vectors. If you ever get into trouble and need to find a way out of it, Isaiah is the one you would want to ask. Above and beyond that though, Isaiah tends to be average in his intelligence. But that doesn't matter to him, and he doesn't mind not being the smartest. Who cares after all, when you can escape almost any situation you need.
Beyond those two things, Isaiah is a kind young man with a naivety about him. He is willing to trust almost anyone at least once, and likes to make friends. He acts younger than he is when he is relaxed, giving others the impression of immaturity. The truth though, is that Isaiah just wants to have fun while he can, and refuses to let a corrupt world push that down. However, put him into a serious situation, and you can count on him for serious backup.
Isaiah also has latent violent tendencies. He used to carry a gun with him, which is how he developed a great skill as a marksman, and a knowledge of gun care and maintenance. However. He realized after some time that when he had the gun, he wanted to use the gun. After his first kill, an unarmed regime member who was going to report him, Isaiah took the gun apart completely, put it in a case, and let it stay in the bottom of his backpack, unusable. However, this hasn't prevented some of his more violent tendencies for getting out, and Isaiah has a great love for street fights, whether with thieves or unarmed Regime members.
{symbol of your choice} Physical Description {symbol of your choice}
Isaiah is tall, standing just at 6 feet. Dark brown, short hair covers his head in a messy form, and he is almost always wearing a hoodie and jeans to help disguise himself. If you were to get his hood off, you could see bite mark scars on his neck, and even more down his body if you pulled off his clothes. Intelligent blue eyes peek out from under thick bangs, and a twice broken nose, bent to one side, makes it impossible to think of him as classically attractive.
Change log
- changed birthday to August 29th. |
371 | 8 | 0 | 1,053 | 926 | First Story Arc - Crosshaven
In a world that is gradually removing itself from superstition and things unnatural, the Seer is an oddity of sorts. Perhaps the Seer could be described as an old remnant of mythical times past, an oddity, an unknown that both fascinates and frightens others. Still, the legendary still exists in places and not all locations follow the path of progress so perhaps there is still room for the Seer in our lives. Still...no one really expects the Seer to look like that.
Standing only 5'5'' with black, long hair tied up in a tail on one side, and pale, translucent skin; the Seer is an oddity to behold. What compounds upon people's confusion is the fact that there is no way to tell if The Seer is male or female, a pretty boy or a beautiful girl. Usually when people first meet the Seer they try to decide what personal pronoun to attribute the Seer, as was the case with the farmer who had picked the Seer up on his way to Crosshaven.
"So erm, young man?" The farmer asked as he was unsure if this porcelain figure sitting on the wagon seat beside him was in fact male. "What brings a fellow like you to these parts?"
The Seer gazed back at the farmer for a moment with licorice eyes that seemed to be able to trap anyway staring back into them. The farmer was perfectly reflected in those glass-like eyes, so he felt the need to look away and back on the road. Of course the farmer was ignorant to who the figure beside him was, but figured it must have been someone with a decent upbringing, more so by how the Seer responded.
"We felt a shift in this area and have need to investigate. Also I know fate has guided me here for some reason, that reason should become known to me in time." The Seer started looking around as they drove up toward the outskirts of town. The farmer really did not know what to make of his strange passenger.
"Well...if you need a place to stay should be a nice inn just up the road a ways. Any case I need to turn here so you better hop off now." The Seer nodded once and then alighted off the seat like a feather in the wind, the black traveling cloak billowed around a bit before the Seer touched the ground.
"We thank you for your generosity, I do believe your daughter should be born shortly. Many blessing on you and your family." The Seer smiled lightly as the stranger to the town made way toward actual population centers.
The farmer dumbfoundedly watched as the figure walked on with no further comments. "How the hay did he know about that?" The farmer shook it off and turned his wagon toward a dirt road that headed toward his fields. "Still, must say I appreciate the blessin's"
The sun was high in the sky, there was quite a bit of day to burn before nightfall. The Seer knew that there was a need to be there in this small town, now just to figure out what it was before needing to journey again. | Name: Unknown
Appearance: (Just ignore the 'tails')
Age: Unknown
Gender: Unknown
Bio: The Seer is an enigma and seemingly unknowable. A wanderer who at times can see the future and seems to always have mysterious events surrounding The Seer's every journey. Who is The Seer? What is the Seer? Does even The Seer know its purpose or is The Seer merely tight-lipped? What is known about the Seer is wherever The Seer travels, change is soon to follow.
Who is the Seer?: The Seer is The Seer, nothing more, nothing less. |
372 | 8 | 1 | 1,633 | 2,323 | Caboose was making his way towards the inn to help unload the supply carriage that was going to be arriving today, as he walked down the dirt road towards the inn he could only smile as two children ran past him playing tag. When the kids left his view he noticed an unfamiliar face entering the village, it was always nice to see new people visiting, Caboose liked to listen to stories they had to tell about their travels. But Caboose had a job to do, he'd almost forgotten about it from the slight distractions, his focus had returned to him when he seen the supply carriage approaching, not wanting to be late to help Caboose broke into a run towards the inn. When Caboose got to the inn he was greeted with smiles from the staff who were waiting for the carriage.
"Yes! I made it!"
Caboose exclaimed with a fist pump in a cheerful tone as he looked to the supply carriage approaching, when it stopped Caboose would proceed to help with unloading the heavier crates full of supplies and bring them into the back of the inn. | Name: Michael J. Caboose Hunterson (or just Caboose for short)
Appearance: Caboose stands just over 6ft tall, with blonde hair, blue eye's with a little more than average athletically fit build and slightly tanned light brown skin.
Personality: Caboose is a cheerful fellow most of the time and always try's to see the brighter side of any situation, god have mercy on those who somehow make him mad, despite that he's not the brightest, by that I mean he's hopelessly dimwitted, but what he lacks in smarts he makes up for in his incredible almost inhuman strength.
Age: 20
Gender: Male
Bio:
(sorry, I got a little carried away X3)
Caboose is a bit of a mystery to the village of Crosshaven, he was found at night by a newly wed couple who were returning home after a little trip, Caboose was under the cover of a tree wrapped inside a small blue blanket just an hour or so away from Crosshaven on the side of the dirt road, he was just a baby, not even a year old, there was no sign of his parents. The young newly wed couple known as the Huntersuns looked around for a little for any indication of the parents before talking to each other about what they should do, they couldn't possibly leave the poor child by himself to become prey for wild animals, or worse. So they did the only logical thing and took the baby into their care until his actual parents were found. As a month went by, bad news found it's way to the Huntersuns, the boy's parents were found, dead only a few miles away from where he was found, it looked like the cause was murder, but the offenders were long gone without a trace.
With the boy's parents dead, the Huntersuns took the boy into their family, and named him, as the years went by it was found out by the Huntersons the Caboose was special in more ways then one, he had incredible strength and stamina for his age, and a naturally fit body to go with it. But it was later found out Caboose had a 'slight' learning curve when it came to schooling, in the end he never finished his schooling, not that he quit, the teachers couldn't handle trying to teach him, but that didn't his adopted parents teaching him what they could, despite that he always managed to find a job to do around the village, with his strength he help with lifting various heavy objects that would at least take two or three people to move. Caboose was completely content with his life, but even so his adopted mother wanted him to live a long happy life with a family, his adopted father didn't think it was really necessary, seeing as how Caboose never appeared to be longing for a partner and was just happy to help around the village, even so Cabooses mother didn't entirely agree with her husband and thusly had a little something set up.
On a day like any other, Caboose's mother had introduced him to a girl his age who also lived in the village, she was a girl who had taken a fancy to Caboose, and his mother had taken notice, when Caboose was working like any other day his mother had come by remind him he had something else to do before coming home, but before she had gotten to him she spotted a girl watching Caboose work from afar, Caboose's mother smiled ear to ear and decided to have a little chat with the girl. After about a week Caboose and the girl spent any free time they had with each other, he greatly enjoyed her company and she his, but their time together didn't go unnoticed by others, the girl with Caboose was quit the jewel to look at, Caboose didn't really care about how pretty she was, it was a plus for sure, but she was friendly and had a good heart and that's all that mattered to Caboose. But to others that wasn't the case, jealously rooted itself into the hearts of those who wanted her for themselves and they planned to make her their own through any means, it would be their greatest mistake.
It was late after work, Caboose was walking the girl home, something they he'd been doing for a while now, then they were approached by to guy's from the village, roughly the same age as Caboose and they look physically intimidating, almost as much as Caboose, they attempted to convince the girl to leave Caboose to go with them, Caboose didn't really understand what was going on so the girl spoke for them, and refused the boys. Then the boy's changed their attitude with angry stares filled with jealously, it was then Caboose was blindsided from behind by two more boys and knocked to the ground with force that would have knocked a lesser man out cold, the girl tried to run to Caboose but was stopped by the two boys that hit Caboose, the girl was being manhandled by the two boys as they brought her over to the other two, they began to do vulgar acts, groping, prodding without her consent, even then when Caboose got back to his feet to go help her, it wasn't the thing that set him off. When the girl managed to get her right arm free she slapped the boy in front of her who was groping her chest, when she hit him he stared at her in shock before adopting an aggressive glare and slapping her with more force then she did leaving an instant bruise.
At that moment something awakened deep within Caboose if only momentarily that slightly increased his muscle bulk, his speed and strength were nearly doubled as he charged at the offender, a look of sheer livid rage was in his eye's as he drew back his right hand and punched the boy in front of the girl with bone breaking force to the right side of his face sending him barreling down the dirt path and coming to a stop a dozen meters away, knocked out cold while bleeding from his mouth and nose. The other three boy's looked at their downed partner in crime before looking to see the eye's of rage gazing upon them, frozen in fear they couldn't escape what awaited them, the girl watched in a state of both fear and awe as Caboose nearly beat the offenders to death, she had stopped him by getting between the boy's and Caboose, reasoning that they had enough, as Caboose looked into her eye's he slowly calmed down, his muscle bulk went away before he passed out and collapsed to the ground. The girl brought Caboose home to his parents and she explained the situation, the three of them planed to talk to Caboose about it, but when he awoke he couldn't remember what happened after he seen the girl get slapped, later the next the next day the four boys who were in the wrong were punished for what they had done, and they promised they wouldn't do such a thing again out of fear of what happened to them the night before, it was then common knowledge to try and not to anger Caboose, which wasn't really a problem since nothing really angered him.
As of recent Caboose had the thought of adventuring after overhearing some travelers tails of their journeys with stories of monsters and treasure, it sounded like fun to him, and like a good way to make more friends, which one could never have enough of, one story had caught his attention, one about this person called, the Seer.
Who is the Seer?: Caboose: "The Seer is... a Powerful!... and Intelligent! Wizard, who goes on awesome Adventures!" |
373 | 8 | 2 | 459 | 87 | 'Rhys Errol - Day 737' "....I think", Rhys mumbled to himself staring at the words written in front of him, "Oh why didn't I start on the day I left," He yelled angrily at himself. "Nevermind. Day 737. It's a nice day and I'm still walking to a new village. I met a horse this morning, he tried to eat my paper...." he trailed trying to think what else to write. "I need new shoes?" He said aloud debating whether to write it in or not. "I...I...", he stopped and looked up, his eyes widened but quickly darted down to the paper to write: "I have finally made it to the new town, it's within my sights and it only took my 2 days to get here, by foot." He finished proud of himself. Rhys stopped and placed his entry into his bag before continuing on.
Before Rhys knew it he had finally made it to the new village. "Crosshaven," Rhys said and fumbled with his bag to get his entry out to write the name down. Shoving it back into his back as quickly but gently as possible he walked further into the village looking for the nearest watering hole. Rhys was parched, he'd been travelling for 2 days and his water supply had ended early this morning. Rhys wandered the small village knowing soon he should find some place to stop but feeling tired he sat down unable to walk another step. | Name: Rhys Errol
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Bio: Rhy is a traveller, his hometown is unknown as he has never stayed for long in a town before. This was mostly due to his mother moving them from town to town, the reason to this day he still does not know. His mother often left him with strangers for periods of time and he has been raised by many people, although Rhys has not seen his temporary carers since his time with them as his mother would return and move him again to another town to be once again left to be raised by strangers. This cycle ended around his 17th birthday when his mother admitted she would not be returning soon and didn't want him to have to wait for her, she gave him the chance to stay where he pleased, travel back to any of his carers or go his own way and travel. Rhys chose to travel.
Who is the Seer?: A travelling companion |
374 | 8 | 3 | 118 | 298 | The tall amber grass swayed as Niana stalked her way through the field. She reached a clearing and slowly pushed a stalk out of the way and peered out onto the road. There was a cart. There was a farmer on that cart, as well as a man (or a woman, Niana couldn't tell). Not that it mattered. The only thing that mattered was that this person was the Seer. The Seer that people had been discussing for weeks in the town square when Niana had been watching. The Seer that would help her find those men that had killed her family. She growled at the mere thought of them, her teeth bared. She watched as the Seer got off the cart and headed in closer to the town of Crosshaven.
The feral girl retreated and sat back down amongst the grass. She closed her eyes and listened. There was the rustling of the grass with the wind. There was the call of distant birds. There was also the steady beat of Niana's own heart. But.... there was something else. Something farther off, like the tapping of shoes on the dirt road. The Seer? She peeked out of the grass again. No it wasn't the Seer. She turned and faced the other way. Sure enough she could make out a man's silhouette. She darted back into the grass and creeped in his direction, away from the town to get a better look at him.
By the time she made it close enough to him, he had sat down. Niana also noticed he was clutching a bag. He seemed to be at ease on the road, so she figured he wasn't from around here. She clutched her bone knife and wondered what to do. | Name: Niana
Age: 18
Gender: Female
Bio: Originally from Crosshaven, Niana and her parents went up to the mountains looking for her older sister who had disappeared a few days before. It turned out that bandits had robbed her and left her for dead on the snowy slope of a mountain. When the rest of the family arrived, the bandits struck again, murdering Niana's parents but sparing her and leaving 12 year old Niana in the nearby forest to her fate. Determined to survive, Niana has lived for the past five years in the forest, not sure of where she was or how to get home. She learned to be self-sufficient and to thrive in the wild of the mountain and forests bordering the fields of Crosshaven, and eventually in the last year found her way back to the wide-open plains surrounding Crosshaven. She has not formally reentered the town, but instead watches and observes daily life from the shadows and outskirts of the town, which is how she found out about the Seer.
Who is the Seer?: Someone who can help her track down the men that killed her sister and parents.
There's mine ^.^V |
375 | 8 | 4 | 1,104 | 675 | Argo had spent a considerable portion of his morning in the normal fashion, out amongst the hills and forests of the perimeter of Crosshaven in the pursuit of plants, herbs, roots, and all other manner of psychical remedies. His self-training in the shamanistic arts were progressive considerably. In the path few months he had begun experimenting with the effects of different plants on different sicknesses, be they animal or human, and had taken to keeping a log of his findings. Today the routine had continued to some moderate success. Some days the herbs were low to the ground, hidden amongst the grass and difficult to find. Today a few choice samples poked up from beneath the forest floor and made themselves known to them; they were collected promptly. Bag filled with the necessary items it was not even mid-morning by the time the shaman returned, retiring to his quarters near the outskirts of town.
Argo spent the rest of the morning in religious prayer and observance. He had learned the proper rites and rituals from passing travelers who were more than happy to pass on the information in return for mending a broken arm or healing a sick animal. Small bits of tobacco burned in an incense jar on the far side of the room; it was the only suitable leaf he could find around these parts of the world. Retiring after his hour or so of worship the shaman decided to go into town to check up on the population. As their principal healer and religious icon Argo had become an important if not truly prominent member of the community. It was during his journey into town that he caught word of the Seer's arrival.
For weeks now there had been rumors and speculation and all manner of tall tales which related the supposed powers, abilities, personality, and appearance of the legendary mystic. It was said that those who conversed with the Seer found either great or terrible fortune and so, it was with these portents in mind that Argo moved towards the center of Crosshaven with an intention of seeking the mighty mystic out. | Name: Argo of Crosshaven
Age: 16
Gender: Male
Bio: A villager turned aspiring healer. Argo dreams of one day becoming the shaman of his village (which currently has none), healing the sick and infirm and giving good counsel to his fellow villagers.
Who is the Seer?: A person of great learning through which Argo will be able to attain his dream of becoming a great shaman and healer. |
376 | 8 | 5 | 2,295 | 427 | And so then... And so then - Hoo!... So then I said to him, 'what do you mean, we're all out of gin? I put the order in last week!'
The Niirborhood Tavern was alive with loud, hearty guffaws as Lucas Niir hit the four listeners with his punchline from behind the bar. Lucas, laughing with them, wiped away a tear, and continued washing a dirty glass. "Let me tell you something, Lucas, those jokes won't ever get old!" One of the listeners complimented. Lucas just shrugged. "It's my job to keep you folks happy and full. It looks like I've done a good job of both." Besides the four men, there were about two others sitting at two different tables. One cracked a grin at Lucas's joke, but the other stayed stoic, watching the door intently. "Hey, can I get you fine folks in the back anything?" Both looked back and denied the offer.
"You got anymore good jokes, Lucas? You know I come here just for 'em!" Lucas stepped back and placed the glass he was washing on the shelf behind him upside-down, next to a row of other sparkly clean glasses. "Sorry boys, maybe tomorrow," he responded. This was met with a chorus of moans and groans from his audience, and he waved them off like flies. "Oh come on now. I've got work to do. And hey, you guys best be getting some work in, too. These drinks ain't free, not by a long shot." | Lucas Niir
Age - 29
Gender - Male
Bio - Lucas comes from a town a little ways down the road from Cross-Haven, where his parents own a locally famous tavern by the name of "Your Friendly Niirborhood Tavern." Their service is fantastic and incredibly quick, with their only being three people employed: Both of Lucas's parents, and a single cook. Their business was their pride and joy, and ever since childhood, Lucas was captured by the devotion his parents showed towards their business, and aspired to run the store some day.
Lucas helped out around the tavern, and eventually was considered to be a fourth employee by everyone. He learned much from his parents, and eventually became skilled enough to open his own tavern in Cross-Haven by the same name. Business there, although a little slower due to the smaller size of the town, was well, and lived up to the reputation of his parents business in the town over. Lately, however, it had come to Lucas's attention that his father had come down with a terrible sickness. Due to this, his normally cheerful and eager-to-please attitude has waned a little bit.
Who is the Seer? - Lucas has heard of him/her, but doesn't believe in The Seer. Upon mention, he usually will laugh and reply with: "Hell, we can all see, can't we? I don't see the big hoopla over it." |
377 | 8 | 6 | 1,053 | 926 | As the Seer had walked along the route he had sensed a presence nearby; however it did not seem to be hostile so the Seer ignored the presence and continued toward the 'heart' of the town. The Seer could feel several pricklings down its spine, not hurtful ones, more like gentle proddings. The Seer knew what these signs meant, the fates were once again bringing some rather integral characters to the stage for another grand play. Unlike what the stories said, the Seer could not in fact control the events and information that flowed into his mind from outside his knowledge. The Seer did have visions to be sure but trying to make any sense out of them was sort of like interpreting a dream, even if the image was clear the meaning could easily escape. Thankfully the Seer had quite a bit of experience with this strange gift and therefore was quite good at figuring things out. It appeared there would be a few intersecting stories in this village that the Seer would be a part of.
The large young man unloading the supply wagon, the traveler behind him, the presence that the Seer sensed, already a few of the pieces were starting to become apparent. Course a few pieces to the puzzles were just that, pieces, the Seer would put the picture together eventually, now it was high time to get a drink and some food. The Seer looked for the nearest place to get some refreshment, it appeared 'The Niirborhood Tavern' was the place to go. The Seer idly wondered if the owner had purposefully decided to mis-spell neighborhood to make it specially or if he really thought that was the correct spelling but that was but a small mystery that did not deserve to be found out.
The Seer entered the establishment without hesitation. There was a rowdy bunch in there already it appeared but the Seer was not bothered by some noise. From some of the conversation in the tavern it appeared the Seer's reputation had preceded the mystic. Still as was usual with such rumor one of the most important facts about the Seer was just plain ludicrous, the Seer's appearance. The usual rumors were that the Seer was a wise old man who showed wisdom on his wrinkly face, was in fact a gorgeous and well-endowed woman, or was in fact a powerful warrior that used his mighty magics to lay waste to creatures of darkness. The Seer never made any effort to correct the rumors as it allowed the magician to travel through most towns without too much trouble. Being always on the move the Seer tried not to stay too long in any one spot unless there was a reason to be and it looked like Crosshaven might just be such a place.
The Seer strode across the floor, almost making no sound when walking. The Seer made it to the bar and took a counter-seat with the men nearby. "Barkeep a pleasure to make your acquaintance. We wish to purchase a meal and a glass of honey-wine if available." Honey-wine a step up from most of the low end drinks but did not quite reach the levels of sophistication of the higher class, still it was not a drink a regular working man could afford very often. "As for the meal, we shall take whatever special you recommend to travelers in order to taste Crosshaven's flavor."
Even just sitting there and speaking the Seer gave off a distinct aura or...differentness. It was not exactly odd just different, course the Seer's looks helped tip it over to more of an oddity along with that particular way of talking. The Seer was capable of making people curious, weary, confused, and pleasant all at the same time. It really was quite a feat. | Name: Unknown
Appearance: (Just ignore the 'tails')
Age: Unknown
Gender: Unknown
Bio: The Seer is an enigma and seemingly unknowable. A wanderer who at times can see the future and seems to always have mysterious events surrounding The Seer's every journey. Who is The Seer? What is the Seer? Does even The Seer know its purpose or is The Seer merely tight-lipped? What is known about the Seer is wherever The Seer travels, change is soon to follow.
Who is the Seer?: The Seer is The Seer, nothing more, nothing less. |
378 | 8 | 7 | 2,188 | 1,106 | Arman groaned, slumping down on the seat at the front of the wagon. Rubbing her eyes, trying to clear away the bleary, fuzzy, vision. Silently she mouthed something, probably a rude word, but no sound came out. It really wasn’t fair that she had to lose her voice NOW, when they were finally at a village after traveling on the roads for so long. Sighing she flipped open her latest book of legends, that she had bargained for a few villages back. The price had been steep, and she was wary, it was probably just another book full of common fairytales. But her life was these stories and so, even knowing she was probably being conned, she had traded out three rabbits, a pigeon, and a handful of coins. The rabbits she had caught herself, and Ryan had ‘lent’ her the pigeon so he would be expecting something back. He was her ‘father figure’, the man who had picked her up all those years ago, and she had taken his name, as was costmary in some regions, Ryanson, or Ryan’s son, even though she was neither his son nor a boy. Ryan himself was driving the wagon, whistling cheerfully, to a tune in his head. Frowning Arman droned the sound out, burying her worries about her voice, and started reading from her book.
Have You Heard?
Have You Heard?
The Seer is here!
The Seer is here!
The Seer brings Miracles!
The Seer brings Death!
Arman sighed, this poem again. There wasn’t anything wrong with the poem, actually she loved it, more than most of her stories, but as with most things, too much of something leads you to never want to encounter it again. This had been the first proper thing she had read, back when she was learning to read, piecing together the hastily scrawled words on their scrumpled piece of paper. When she had finally managed to read it, to read it all, she would then spend some time every day re-reading it, proving to herself that she could, that it wasn’t a dream. Speaking of dreams; Arman jolted awake, wincing at the sore spot where Ryan had dug in his elbow. She mouthed a curse at him, but still found she couldn’t talk. Glancing ahead she found they were at the edge of the town. Ryan stopped the horse, and Arman could hear the creak as the two other wagons behind them pulled to a halt as well. “Meet you back here, this evening, yeah?” Ryan bellowed at the other four as he hopped down from the wagon, grinning back up at Arman. “Shall we go conduct business, and see if there’s someone who can help with your voice?” | Name: Arman Ryanson
Age: 16
Gender: Female, but looks male.
Bio: Arman grew up traveling, village to village, never settling anywhere. She was the story keeper for her troupe, telling stories for her keep. They are currently stopping by in Crosshaven for a little while, before they plan to move on. Arman hides the fact that she is a girl. When she was little she was picked up from the roadside and has been with the travelers since then.
Who is the Seer?: Another traveler, someone, she respects if ‘he’ exists. She has heard of ‘him’ in legends and one of the first stories she read was a piece of poetry about ‘him’. She would also like, if possible to be the one to record the seer’s story, and tell it to others. (But for that matter she quite likes telling anyone’s stories, if they will let her.) |
379 | 8 | 8 | 2,295 | 427 | Lucas looked up from his audience and smiled at the young... Oh boy, I'm in for it now, Lucas thought to himself as he couldn't exactly guess what sex this newcomer was. She -or he- had long, black hair tied up in a neat ponytail, and at first sight the, this would make any sane person believe that this fellow could be a woman. But her face was so rigid and sure, unsmiling and straight that this patron could have been a man. And of course, men without ponytails weren't totally unheard of. Why, just the other day, Lucas had a man cone in who was under an occupation of a foreign name. He said he was a sam-ooh-something... Or maybe a rai-ooh-something? Oh, to Hell with it, Lucas thought.
After a fee seconds of searching for a unisexual pronoun for his customer, and a short second of hesitation, Lucas Niir smiled and nodded. "I don't think I've had anyone ask for honey-wine in quite some time, stranger. I'll see if I have any in stock, though. And just in case you've never come in before, the name is Lucas Niir. At your service, stranger." He greeted the mysterious fellow and turned around to examine his shelves of liquor, looking around for the specified drink. He certainly stocked honey-wine, but only near festival seasons. The folks that walked in to the tavern around these parts usually favored a more "manly" drink."Let's see... Hmmm... Ah, here we are!" Lucas pulled out a bottle of unopened honey-wine, ready to serve. He started to open it immediately with one hand, searching behind him for a bottle with his other. "Well, you're in luck. This is one of my last bottles."
As he poured, he thought about what exactly he could make for his customer. They had a limited menu at the Niirborhood Tavern; usually the chef Lucas has hired made whatever he could make, but because of his great skill in cooking, this was usually not complained about. "Hey, chef!" He called to a door to his right which led to a kitchen. "Think you can cook up a meal for me?" With that, he set the wine glass filled with the golden wine in front of the stranger. "Excuse me, but you're old enough to drink, right?" With a yes, he would let go of the glass for the customer's enjoyment. "So, what's your name, stranger?" | Lucas Niir
Age - 29
Gender - Male
Bio - Lucas comes from a town a little ways down the road from Cross-Haven, where his parents own a locally famous tavern by the name of "Your Friendly Niirborhood Tavern." Their service is fantastic and incredibly quick, with their only being three people employed: Both of Lucas's parents, and a single cook. Their business was their pride and joy, and ever since childhood, Lucas was captured by the devotion his parents showed towards their business, and aspired to run the store some day.
Lucas helped out around the tavern, and eventually was considered to be a fourth employee by everyone. He learned much from his parents, and eventually became skilled enough to open his own tavern in Cross-Haven by the same name. Business there, although a little slower due to the smaller size of the town, was well, and lived up to the reputation of his parents business in the town over. Lately, however, it had come to Lucas's attention that his father had come down with a terrible sickness. Due to this, his normally cheerful and eager-to-please attitude has waned a little bit.
Who is the Seer? - Lucas has heard of him/her, but doesn't believe in The Seer. Upon mention, he usually will laugh and reply with: "Hell, we can all see, can't we? I don't see the big hoopla over it." |
380 | 8 | 9 | 1,104 | 675 | Argo made his way quickly towards the town center, stopping to talk and converse with a few people along the way. The seer, the seer! She's in the tavern right now! No, no! It was most definitely a girl! Argo didn't wait for any further rumors, instead he sped on to his destination with all due speed. Upon approaching the front of the establishment the shaman waved hello to a couple of local customers. Although he lived on the outskirts of town his profession had made him quite well known and when he did not have the time to compose his own suppers he often came her, to the Niirborhood Tavern to get his fill. Today however he had a different sort of aim and so it was with this enthusiasm that Argo moved through the entryway.
Almost immediately the shaman was capable of picking the sage out. The. . . person, for he could not definitely tell whether it was a man or woman, released a certain aura which seemed to hang about them like rain clouds to mountains. Argo, more in touch with the supernatural than most, could almost visualize this aura and for the first time since he'd heard of the seer he began to have his doubts. Still, if what was said about the seer was true than his caution was heedless.
As he approached Argo caught sight also of the tavern's master, Lucas Niir. Argo was not quite friends with the man though they were assuredly acquaintances. Having been a patron of the tavern for some time Argo was sure Lucas was also privy to his usual favorites in regards to food or drink; that is to say that Argo ate food that was rather plain and preferred some alternative to drinking alcohol whenever it was available. Trying his best to contain himself, the shaman drew up a seat next to the seer, almost at a loss for where to begin. He was sure his hesitance was palpable. | Name: Argo of Crosshaven
Age: 16
Gender: Male
Bio: A villager turned aspiring healer. Argo dreams of one day becoming the shaman of his village (which currently has none), healing the sick and infirm and giving good counsel to his fellow villagers.
Who is the Seer?: A person of great learning through which Argo will be able to attain his dream of becoming a great shaman and healer. |
381 | 8 | 10 | 459 | 87 | The seer, the seer! She's in the tavern right now, Rhys heard from the locals and saw a person run by him. Rhys watched the direction that Argo ran in. "Tarvern?" Rhys hoarsly said attempting to get to his feet. Using all his strength he managed to get up and began to stumble his way the tavern. His head was spinning from lack of food and drink but his willpower was strong and he was determined to get to the there.
After what seemed like an eternity Rhys made it to 'The Niirborhood Tavern' feeling very relived. He stumbled through the doors and managed to make his way up to the counter. Breathing heavily he leant against the counter to steady himself, once he began to breath normally he opened his bag and rummaged around for his money. Looking at it with despair he looked up at the Barkeep who was serving another customer. Rhys looked like a lost child, all he could afford was water and possibly a bit of bread, if he was lucky.
The last village he visited had little work for him to do, so the money he earned did not last him very long, he had hoped the next place he visited would have more opportunities; without money Rhys could not travel. | Name: Rhys Errol
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Bio: Rhy is a traveller, his hometown is unknown as he has never stayed for long in a town before. This was mostly due to his mother moving them from town to town, the reason to this day he still does not know. His mother often left him with strangers for periods of time and he has been raised by many people, although Rhys has not seen his temporary carers since his time with them as his mother would return and move him again to another town to be once again left to be raised by strangers. This cycle ended around his 17th birthday when his mother admitted she would not be returning soon and didn't want him to have to wait for her, she gave him the chance to stay where he pleased, travel back to any of his carers or go his own way and travel. Rhys chose to travel.
Who is the Seer?: A travelling companion |
382 | 8 | 11 | 118 | 298 | Shouting caught Niana off guard. Since the Seer had arrived in the town proper there was a commotion stirring. The man she had been observing had even got up out of his sleepy reverie and rushed off towards the tavern. Perhaps it was time the girl made an appearance? Niana wrestled with the thought, a knot growing in the pit of her stomach. Would anyone remember her? Would anyone care? She shook her head and growled at the grass. She had a mission. It was for her family. She had to do it. Clutching the bone knife around her neck for good luck, Niana crouched on all four and creeped towards the town again.
She was close now. Well, closer than she had been. Closer but no less nervous. The feeling was curious to her; years of living in the wilds had made her slightly uninhibited when it came to matters of all sorts. Her clothes were an obvious one, and her emotions were an close second. Niana had all but forgotten what nervousness had felt like, along with a variety of other, more human emotions. She took a deep breath and stepped out of the grass and on to the dirt road. She stood perfectly still, the gentle wind blowing her platinum hair as she stared down the tavern. Finally she began to walk towards it and finally she reached the entrance.
The Niirborhood Tavern. That's what the sign read. Or at least what Niana thought it said. It had been a while since she had done any reading, so she may have been a little rusty. Stroking the bone dagger around her neck one last time for comfort's sake, the feral girl finally entered the tavern as quiet as possible. She was immediately blasted with various pungent smells and loud noises. She winced and tried to slink off into a corner. She was used to the ambiance of the forest, and the cool natural smells of the lush life that lived there. This was almost overpowering. The closeness of the people, the roaring of laughter and chatter and the smell of a load of humans smashed into a small space made Niana want to cry. | Name: Niana
Age: 18
Gender: Female
Bio: Originally from Crosshaven, Niana and her parents went up to the mountains looking for her older sister who had disappeared a few days before. It turned out that bandits had robbed her and left her for dead on the snowy slope of a mountain. When the rest of the family arrived, the bandits struck again, murdering Niana's parents but sparing her and leaving 12 year old Niana in the nearby forest to her fate. Determined to survive, Niana has lived for the past five years in the forest, not sure of where she was or how to get home. She learned to be self-sufficient and to thrive in the wild of the mountain and forests bordering the fields of Crosshaven, and eventually in the last year found her way back to the wide-open plains surrounding Crosshaven. She has not formally reentered the town, but instead watches and observes daily life from the shadows and outskirts of the town, which is how she found out about the Seer.
Who is the Seer?: Someone who can help her track down the men that killed her sister and parents.
There's mine ^.^V |
383 | 8 | 12 | 1,053 | 926 | While people knew the Seer was in fact in town, there was still general confusion about exactly who was the Seer as there were more than a few travelers on the road. Of course there were the clever ones, like the somewhat bashful shaman who had just taken a seat beside what he probably thought was someone akin to the man on the proverbial hill for shaman and wizards. It was rather annoying really but the Seer realized that this one had a part to play in the story at hand. The Seer sensed a few more presences that would play a part in the forming tapestry, the threads were there now it was time to string them together and then decide which branching path to take.
"Our name is of little import I am afraid but I can assure you my age is beyond the least needed for a drink that mind." The Seer said, speaking to the barkeeper. "Now this young man here," the Seer nodded in Argo's direction, "is going to pay for my meal, aside from the honey-wine of course, I have foreseen". The Seer was of course lying through the teeth and had not seen if the boy was going to pay for his meal because of his powers, this was simply called fabricating your own future. Still in a way the Seer was allowing Argo to feel more comfortable in talking, since the boy was silent as a dead mouse.
The Seer ignored the person who had just come in to lean on the counter for the moment, a more pressing matter was at hand. The aura the Seer had noticed before on the road was now in the establishment and had a wild side to it, different from the 'wild' side of a drunk patron. It was entirely too easy to follow the source to a rather wild looking young woman who was entirely unused to civilization it seemed, not that one would consider Crosshaven exactly a huge source of civilization. The Seer locked eyes on her and motioned with eyes only, that and a look filled with authority despite the Seer's rather deadpan expression. The Seer had powers of persuasion beyond normal men, though in reality it was but a simple trick of presence that few had mastered, message did not have to be spoken to be understood though the Seer decided to speak anyway.
"Come here child we have business to discuss." A few patrons turned their eyes curiously from the Seer to Niana, unsure of who she was or what was happening. Mostly the Seer just did not want Niana to slink off after getting a whiff of some not so great civilization, it would be better to figure out where this piece fit in the upcoming tapestry. | Name: Unknown
Appearance: (Just ignore the 'tails')
Age: Unknown
Gender: Unknown
Bio: The Seer is an enigma and seemingly unknowable. A wanderer who at times can see the future and seems to always have mysterious events surrounding The Seer's every journey. Who is The Seer? What is the Seer? Does even The Seer know its purpose or is The Seer merely tight-lipped? What is known about the Seer is wherever The Seer travels, change is soon to follow.
Who is the Seer?: The Seer is The Seer, nothing more, nothing less. |
384 | 8 | 13 | 2,188 | 1,106 | Arman trudged into the town alongside Ryan, heading for the local tavern. There was no better place to sell herbs and spices, and also the best place to ask around for the town healer. “The Niirborhood Tavern. Well they're not from my neighborhood.” Ryan joked pushing through the door, followed closely by an eye rolling Arman. Steping inside she gagged. It wasn’t like the smell was new to her, but after being on the road for so long, she had grown used to the clean air. But she would adjust, just as she always did. She followed Ryan up to the bar, where he snagged a spare seat, and she stood behind his shoulder, as usual, waiting till he gestured to a seat next to him, leaving a short gap between her and a pair of others a few stools over. When the barkeeper finally got to them Ryan nodded to the man, “Hello sir, can we get a drink? Two ales, please.” Arman growled silently and smacked him round the head, “Fine, fine, one ale and, …do you have any milk?” Ryan amended his request. “Also, when you aren’t busy, I’m selling herbs and spices, along with a few interesting odds and ends. Would you be interested?”
Arman was listening to every conversation, at least every one she could hear, paying attention, hunting for a story, interesting things like that. When the, was that a boy or girl?, called across the tavern to a wild looking girl skulking near the entrance, she swiveled her head, watching everything she could. Paying as much attention as her tired self could. | Name: Arman Ryanson
Age: 16
Gender: Female, but looks male.
Bio: Arman grew up traveling, village to village, never settling anywhere. She was the story keeper for her troupe, telling stories for her keep. They are currently stopping by in Crosshaven for a little while, before they plan to move on. Arman hides the fact that she is a girl. When she was little she was picked up from the roadside and has been with the travelers since then.
Who is the Seer?: Another traveler, someone, she respects if ‘he’ exists. She has heard of ‘him’ in legends and one of the first stories she read was a piece of poetry about ‘him’. She would also like, if possible to be the one to record the seer’s story, and tell it to others. (But for that matter she quite likes telling anyone’s stories, if they will let her.) |
385 | 8 | 14 | 2,295 | 427 | Lucas stared wide-eyed as customers poured in to his tavern. First, Argo graced the establishment with his presence, a peculiar young man who was studying medicine or something-or-other. Then, more and more came right after: about five other people in total, some from town, one who looked like a traveler, and one- Oh, Hell, what does this girl think she's wearing? For God's sake, she's in a public place!
Running a hand through his dark hair, Lucas began trying to serve each one of his new customers. Firstly, the gender-bent one who asked for honey-wine. The individual claimed that Argo would be paying for the meal, which was a little strange since he just walked in... "Argo!" He yelled across the noisy tavern. "Hey, are you paying for this guy's meal?" Lucas mentally winced as he threw out a gender-specific title, but shook it off, figuring that maybe "guy" would register as unisexual as well.
Lucas then looked towards the traveler, who he hadn't ever seen around town before. He looked a little lost, like a child in a crowded market. In fact, that might have been the truth, come to think of it, that might have been the case. Lucas ignored him for the moment, and two other people entered the bar: two more travelers of whom he hadn't ever seen. Before he got to them, it was time to address the skimpily dressed girl. He started to walk towards her, but stopped as the gender-less customer called out to her. He quickly stopped the individual before he got up. "Uhm, excuse me, you look like you two know each other," he gestured to the female. "Could you tell her to cover herself up a little more properly? This is a tavern, not a brothel." Already he began to see regulars gawking at the girl, and he rolled his eyes.
Next, a couple more travelers he hadn't seen before wandered in to the tavern. They approached the bar and took their seats. They ordered two ales originally, but one smacked the other in the back of the head and changed his order to milk. "Alright, coming right up, you two." He began to fill up a cup of ale and a cup of milk, listening to one give him an interesting offer. Apparently, these two strangers were salesmen, offering herbs and spices to him. "Well, I'd be happy to buy from you two fine gentleman. I should have plenty of money to buy after today," Lucas agreed, gesturing to the crowd. He heard a bell ring to the right of him, and a small plate was sitting on the bar with and small sandwich and a bowl of vegetable soup. Ah, that's for... he picked up the plate and set it down where Mr. Nameless was sitting before she got up. "One meal for the one who ordered it! You didn't give me your name!" He pointed at those sitting around the nameless one's seat. "If you guys touch his meal, you'll lose a finger." | Lucas Niir
Age - 29
Gender - Male
Bio - Lucas comes from a town a little ways down the road from Cross-Haven, where his parents own a locally famous tavern by the name of "Your Friendly Niirborhood Tavern." Their service is fantastic and incredibly quick, with their only being three people employed: Both of Lucas's parents, and a single cook. Their business was their pride and joy, and ever since childhood, Lucas was captured by the devotion his parents showed towards their business, and aspired to run the store some day.
Lucas helped out around the tavern, and eventually was considered to be a fourth employee by everyone. He learned much from his parents, and eventually became skilled enough to open his own tavern in Cross-Haven by the same name. Business there, although a little slower due to the smaller size of the town, was well, and lived up to the reputation of his parents business in the town over. Lately, however, it had come to Lucas's attention that his father had come down with a terrible sickness. Due to this, his normally cheerful and eager-to-please attitude has waned a little bit.
Who is the Seer? - Lucas has heard of him/her, but doesn't believe in The Seer. Upon mention, he usually will laugh and reply with: "Hell, we can all see, can't we? I don't see the big hoopla over it." |
386 | 8 | 15 | 118 | 298 | Niana could feel eyes on her. She could feel the gaze of many patrons drinking in her immodest visage. She had hoped to blend in, but clearly blending in with a forest and blending in with humans was an entirely different beast altogether. She pressed herself against the far wall, like a cornered cat that was hoping to slip through the wood and out into freedom. No such luck for Niana though. Someone pushed past her and she felt and drunken hand grope her chest. This was degrading. How did people live like this? She felt like she had thrown herself into a cage. Her hand felt her bone knife and she remembered her purpose. The Seer.
As the thought made its way through Niana's mind she heard a voice call out to her from across the tavern. Wha-? The Seer's eyes locked onto Niana's own and she felt oddly calm. Not entirely at ease (she never felt she would be in this place) but her mind was at least calm for the moment. After a moment of deliberation Niana pushed herself off from the wall and slinked through the crowded tavern up until she was finally face to face with the Seer. | Name: Niana
Age: 18
Gender: Female
Bio: Originally from Crosshaven, Niana and her parents went up to the mountains looking for her older sister who had disappeared a few days before. It turned out that bandits had robbed her and left her for dead on the snowy slope of a mountain. When the rest of the family arrived, the bandits struck again, murdering Niana's parents but sparing her and leaving 12 year old Niana in the nearby forest to her fate. Determined to survive, Niana has lived for the past five years in the forest, not sure of where she was or how to get home. She learned to be self-sufficient and to thrive in the wild of the mountain and forests bordering the fields of Crosshaven, and eventually in the last year found her way back to the wide-open plains surrounding Crosshaven. She has not formally reentered the town, but instead watches and observes daily life from the shadows and outskirts of the town, which is how she found out about the Seer.
Who is the Seer?: Someone who can help her track down the men that killed her sister and parents.
There's mine ^.^V |
387 | 8 | 16 | 1,104 | 675 | It was not even a full minute after the shaman entered that the tavern picked up its activity by a significant margin. The light grumbling and gentle laughter that had filled the place previously was now replaced with a much louder, more joyous variant. The day was dragging on and more people were coming in, though what really surprised the shaman was the way the occupancy of the tavern seemed to almost double in the span of a couple seconds. Surely this was the work of some otherworldly force, after all, was it not said that where the seer traveled many were drawn close along behind? It was Lucas, the barkeep's, voice the finally broke Argo from his revere, reminding him of other things at hand which required his attention.
"Hey, are you paying for this guy's meal?"
The shaman nodded in the affirmative, still a little slack in the jaw. He watched in silence as the seer went on to converse with a few others before finally lodging his request. "Great seer," The shaman took up a rather reverent tone, as if speaking to someone who was by far his superior, "I am an apprentice in the shamanistic arts, though you probably knew that. I have come seeking advice and training. I wish to know all that you can teach me." When the seer's reply was not immediately forth coming Argo allowed himself to at least take stock of the newer members of the bar, in particularly the crudely dressed woman near the back of the room. He recognized her from his work in the fields and with herbs, often caught glimpses. Still, he'd not really bothered to give her much interest until now. She was so out of place?
Gazing back again at the seer to see if they would grant his request the shaman found again, sadly that it had not spoken. Assumedly it was more interested in its sandwich and honeywine at the moment. Still, it would give Argo a chance to run damage control, especially after Lucas' latest request to 'tell her to cover herself up a little more properly'? Rising, the shaman-in-training made his way over to the scantily-clad female, removing his light poncho which he then offered to her. "It would probably be best to cover yourself, miss." | Name: Argo of Crosshaven
Age: 16
Gender: Male
Bio: A villager turned aspiring healer. Argo dreams of one day becoming the shaman of his village (which currently has none), healing the sick and infirm and giving good counsel to his fellow villagers.
Who is the Seer?: A person of great learning through which Argo will be able to attain his dream of becoming a great shaman and healer. |
388 | 8 | 17 | 1,053 | 926 | The Seer had gotten the wild one's attention and soon they were face to face. Her appearance did not bother the Seer in the slightest but many of the others were quite taken aback by her appearance, even calling her a 'whore'. The Seer now had a few things to juggle: food, those around the Seer, and of course the honey-wine. The Seer kept Niana in that mystical gaze and somehow managed to also procure half a sandwich and a glass of honey-wine. The Seer also had an adoring fan in the next seat who decided to go ahead an offer the girl a poncho for herself. The poor thing looked healthy but she was quite out of sorts in this environment, still, the Seer appreciated the help from the side.
The barkeep was a bit miffed at her appearance but he would have no complaints after what the Seer did next. The Seer took the poncho from the young shaman's hands and instantly put the garment on her. "Alright young one, I have at least an idea as to why you are here. For now do not leave my side until I have heard the story." The Seer commanded quite sternly, getting down to business. "As for you young shaman," The Seer finally acknowledged the young man who wished to learn all the secrets the Seer had, "keep your eyes and ears open. Observe and you may learn something." The Seer then took a quick break to down some food and drink.
"As I am currently dining by all means explain your request in full. By coming to us, you have interwoven your life's thread with several others in this room for a span. Now speak." It was impossible for Niana to back out now, her fate was interwoven with that of the Seer since she entered the Tavern.
Almost as an afterthought the Seer reached inside it's garments and produced the necessary coin for the drink and placed them on the counter. | Name: Unknown
Appearance: (Just ignore the 'tails')
Age: Unknown
Gender: Unknown
Bio: The Seer is an enigma and seemingly unknowable. A wanderer who at times can see the future and seems to always have mysterious events surrounding The Seer's every journey. Who is The Seer? What is the Seer? Does even The Seer know its purpose or is The Seer merely tight-lipped? What is known about the Seer is wherever The Seer travels, change is soon to follow.
Who is the Seer?: The Seer is The Seer, nothing more, nothing less. |
389 | 8 | 18 | 2,188 | 1,106 | When they received their drinks Ryan placed a couple of coins on the bar.
He called me a gentleman, a gentleman! Arman sniggered silently to Ryan, Oh that’s a good one, you’re a gentleman, you! That was too funny, them gentlemen? Oh, and she collapsed into silent laughter again, with Ryan gently thwacking her ear, to get her to stop. Pulling herself together, Arman stopped laughing and instead watched the scene further along the bar play out in front of her. Good material for a story if ever there was some. The wild girl, with very little clothes, was interesting for a start, and the person who had called out to her, Arman had long since given up trying to decide on a gender, was certainly quite a piece. The boy who offered the cloak like thing was also worth mentioning. Basically, Arman found the whole situation interesting. She took a swig of her milk, gulping it down. For now she was content to watch. But later, maybe, she might, might, jump in. | Name: Arman Ryanson
Age: 16
Gender: Female, but looks male.
Bio: Arman grew up traveling, village to village, never settling anywhere. She was the story keeper for her troupe, telling stories for her keep. They are currently stopping by in Crosshaven for a little while, before they plan to move on. Arman hides the fact that she is a girl. When she was little she was picked up from the roadside and has been with the travelers since then.
Who is the Seer?: Another traveler, someone, she respects if ‘he’ exists. She has heard of ‘him’ in legends and one of the first stories she read was a piece of poetry about ‘him’. She would also like, if possible to be the one to record the seer’s story, and tell it to others. (But for that matter she quite likes telling anyone’s stories, if they will let her.) |
390 | 8 | 19 | 217 | 159 | *Thunk!* splinters were sent flying as the two pieces of wood cluttered to the ground. Hefting the ax onto his shoulder with a small grunt, Fredrick wiped his brow with his other hand, taking a brief moment to scowl through the harsh light at the fields of golden wheat gently swaying in the breeze. He heaved a sigh as the gentle winds washed over him, cooling his body down from the work he was doing behind the homestead.
"Fredrick!? Fredrick my dear boy!" a familiar voice called out.
Samuel Louis the farmer appeared around the side of house, moving quite quickly for a man with a fixed limp, his weathered face was bright red, which Fredrick could only assume wasn't from hard work out in the fields, with the stench of whiskey that hung about him.
"There you are lad. I have some news that may be of interest to ya, do you care to hear it?" He asked with a toothy grin, despite his worn appearance and habit of drinking away his savings, Samuel was a good man and a deceptively robust character.
"I know you have a penchant for gossiping, so I fear I'll hear this news regardless." Fredrick replied jokingly, swinging the ax down into the stump with hearty thump, where he had been cutting this afternoons wood.
The whiskers on Samuel's face seemed to bristle at the notion that his companion cared not for his tale, which he had so selflessly stopped his evening ritual to deliver. "So I suppose ye' don't care that there's a rumor that the legendary seer is in town." He said, trying to hide a grin as he waited for the young lads reception to the news.
Fredrick's face became fixed with a determined look as he immediately moved with a purpose, quickly tossing the two bits of wood into the pile, before rushing over to the back of the wagon where he placed his coat and sword while he worked.
"Forgive me Samuel, I'll need to borrow Killigan if I'm to see if this rumor is true." He said, not actually waiting for confirmation from Sam. The old man blinked in surprise as the lad bustled past him into the stable, before emerging moments later, leading his old grey gelding toward the front of the house.
"N-now, just hold on a second, I-I thin.." He stammered, but was cut short as Fredrick vaulted into the saddle and tossed him a small leather bag.
"That there is for Killigan, I do hope it's enough." He said, as the old farmer, stared bewildered at the golden light glinting from the bag. That had been the sum of his fortune that had survived the journey from his home land, he had hoped to use it to buy passage with some travelling merchants, but those few who did pass through the small town knew nothing of the name he gave them, he now hoped that it would help the old farmer retire for good.
Wild thoughts and stray memories swirled about his head 'The seer, a being that appeared in both his peoples and this lands stories of yore, here, in Crosshaven?'
Fredrick just had to know, spurring his heels into Killigan, he raced off toward town. | Name: Fredrick Riel
Appearance:
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Lucas was born far to the west, in a land where the success of a nobles family was dependent upon the skill of the houses swordsmen, with custom dictating that all disputes and matters are settled with duels. To prevent putting the nobility at risk, they and only they, are allowed to employ the talents of simple folk to fight their duels for them. With his parents being poor Lucas could barely remember them, as he was sold to 'House Riel' at a young age, and put to training as a swordsman immediately. When he reached the age of sixteen he was granted his first personal blade, a steel short sword which he had named 'Nightbane', a weapon that swiftly helped him earn a name for himself among the Houses. Lucrative offers were made to House Riel in return for the lads service, but the House had grown proud of their fierce fighter, publicly declaring him the best in all the lands and granting the young man the right to wear their name.
Word soon got to the king, of a small house, boasting of having the finest swordsman in the lands, wishing to see so for himself, he journeyed to their home and offered to buy the swordsmen from them, but in their arrogance they declined. The refusal was seen as an insult and direct challenge to the kings authority, using his influence he had the house stripped of its lands and titles and sent into exile. Young Lucas stuck with the family as they traveled east through the hinterlands with what little possessions remained to them, but inexperience with the rigors of travel led to the death of many, with once loyal house guards turning bandit.
Wounded from his ordeals and attempts to crush the mutiny of his fellow swordsman, Lucas was left behind by those whom had escaped the battle unscathed, and had been forced to leave behind those too sick or frail to keep up. Eventually Barren earth gave way to lush grass, than fields of corn, Lucas collapsed at the feet of the first person he had seen in days, shortly passing out afterward. The man who had found him, a local farmer of the township of Crosshaven, helped nurse him back to health and offered lodgings to the young man in return for help with work around the farm. He accepted immediately and worked many a season for his savior, but in his heart he longed to return to his homeland and slay the man who ruined his House, yet found he knew not the way home.
Who is the Seer?: Someone who may know of his homeland, as the name has been met with confused stares by all others/ A travelling companion. |
391 | 8 | 20 | 118 | 298 | Names were being thrown at her as she stood in front of the Seer. "Whore!" one called out, "Put some damn clothes on you tart!" another slurred. Niana turned and hissed. Force of habit. A poncho was offered to her by a man next to the Seer. Niana shook her head but didn't say anything (although it's not like talking would come easily for her, years of solitude and no one to speak with will do that to a person.) As quick as a forest cat the Seer snatched the poncho and draped it over Niana, who squirmed and was obviously discomforted by the sudden covering of her body. The Seer began to speak, he or she commanded quite sternly that Niana not leave his or her side until their appointed strand of interwoven fate was unwound. The feral girl's eyes shifted uneasily to the Shaman biding his time at the side of the Seer.
Suddenly, a command that made her blink in surprise. "Now speak." The Seer had said. The words were there, floating in her head, filed ever since she had first heard of the seer coming along. My family was murdered and I need help finding those responsible is what she wanted to say, but it was like there was a disconnect from her brain to her mouth. She focused herself. Her human voice came out, forming words as a child might, just learning to speak. "F-fam-ily.." She rasped, "Murdered..." It was all she could say. Painful memories flooded back. Ones she had been suppressing for so long. The faces of her family, her sister, her mother, her father all floated in her mind like three hot brands. Angry tears welled up in her eyes, full of emotion, raw like someone who had never learned to cage their inner feelings. Though tears added a gleam to her tanned skin, she did not break eye contact with the Seer. | Name: Niana
Age: 18
Gender: Female
Bio: Originally from Crosshaven, Niana and her parents went up to the mountains looking for her older sister who had disappeared a few days before. It turned out that bandits had robbed her and left her for dead on the snowy slope of a mountain. When the rest of the family arrived, the bandits struck again, murdering Niana's parents but sparing her and leaving 12 year old Niana in the nearby forest to her fate. Determined to survive, Niana has lived for the past five years in the forest, not sure of where she was or how to get home. She learned to be self-sufficient and to thrive in the wild of the mountain and forests bordering the fields of Crosshaven, and eventually in the last year found her way back to the wide-open plains surrounding Crosshaven. She has not formally reentered the town, but instead watches and observes daily life from the shadows and outskirts of the town, which is how she found out about the Seer.
Who is the Seer?: Someone who can help her track down the men that killed her sister and parents.
There's mine ^.^V |
392 | 8 | 21 | 1,104 | 675 | F-fam-ily. . . murdered. . .
The shaman watched with some measure of interest as the Seer worked its magical power. It was strange. Though this wild-woman and the seer had just met already the power of that mystic seemed to be subduing her. With a simple worded command the dark-skinned woman was brought to the verge of tears, then, at the explanation of their source they fell unreservedly.
The whole scene was more than shocking; had the seer known these things would happen? Why else would it be here? It must has known, through some intuitive power, that the people of Crosshaven had been in need of its guidance. Truly the shaman was left in a state of perpetual awe. But then the realization of the situation hit, the gravity. If what the wild-woman said was true then that might mean there were still such men within the village' confines. Foremost as a healer the shaman had an interest not only in the welfare of the village but also its safety. There was no way of telling how long ago the murders had happened.
Argo longed to speak up, to question the woman, to find out the truth. Instead he remained silent. The way her tears fell, he felt that saying something might only causing further harm.
He would do as the seer had instructed, he would watch and wait, listen and learn. Although he was distressed by the pain of the wild-woman there was really nothing he could do for her, he did not know her or anything about her. No. The best course of action would be to see what the seer did, to follow its advice and pray to the gods for a positive outcome. | Name: Argo of Crosshaven
Age: 16
Gender: Male
Bio: A villager turned aspiring healer. Argo dreams of one day becoming the shaman of his village (which currently has none), healing the sick and infirm and giving good counsel to his fellow villagers.
Who is the Seer?: A person of great learning through which Argo will be able to attain his dream of becoming a great shaman and healer. |
393 | 8 | 22 | 2,295 | 427 | Lucas scooped up the various coins placed on the counter while scrambling to pour drinks for all who asked. All the while he was carefully watching the bar around him for anyone who was more rowdy than he cared for. For a more or less packed tavern, things seemed alright. Thankfully, the nameless fellow had taken a poncho and threw it over the skimpily dressed woman, people nodding in appreciation around her. One of the two merchants looked like he was trying to hold back laughter while the other looked upon him disprovingly.
As conversations swept through the bar, finally it seemed, Lucas knew why so many people had flocked to the Niirborhood Tavern. Apparently, The Seer had wandered in to town, and more than that, right in to Lucas's own tavern. Lucas himself rolled his eyes at this, thinking that the people of Crosshaven had a little more sense than that. The Seer was a story, that's all it was. No one like that could ever exist.
As Lucas continued to look around the tavern, he noticed the white haired girl was making a fuss, crying and looking very upset. Argo was also not looking very well either. Between them, the nameless fellow stood, emotionless as ever. Lucas frowned slightly and decided to incestigate. He shuffled down the bar, serving drinks as he went. "Excuse me, Argo!" He leaned over the bar and called over the other noisy voices to the only person he really knew in the group. "Everything alright over there?" | Lucas Niir
Age - 29
Gender - Male
Bio - Lucas comes from a town a little ways down the road from Cross-Haven, where his parents own a locally famous tavern by the name of "Your Friendly Niirborhood Tavern." Their service is fantastic and incredibly quick, with their only being three people employed: Both of Lucas's parents, and a single cook. Their business was their pride and joy, and ever since childhood, Lucas was captured by the devotion his parents showed towards their business, and aspired to run the store some day.
Lucas helped out around the tavern, and eventually was considered to be a fourth employee by everyone. He learned much from his parents, and eventually became skilled enough to open his own tavern in Cross-Haven by the same name. Business there, although a little slower due to the smaller size of the town, was well, and lived up to the reputation of his parents business in the town over. Lately, however, it had come to Lucas's attention that his father had come down with a terrible sickness. Due to this, his normally cheerful and eager-to-please attitude has waned a little bit.
Who is the Seer? - Lucas has heard of him/her, but doesn't believe in The Seer. Upon mention, he usually will laugh and reply with: "Hell, we can all see, can't we? I don't see the big hoopla over it." |
394 | 8 | 23 | 459 | 87 | Rhys looked to the bar seat beside him and slowly pulled himself up to sit on it. He watched the barkeep attempting to catch his eye but to no avail. He was tired and very hungry but he had to keep writing in case he missed something important. Pulling out the same sheet of paper from earlier he continued to write.
'Made it to the village of CrossHaven and found a tavern which many people seemed to rush to. There may be something big going on here. Could I be in the middle of something wonderful? Trying to order some food and drink and then will attempt to find lodgings. There are many strange people here, all of them are so different and I hope to make more new friends, if I make it...just a jest...or not'
Rhys chuckled to himself, he knew no one else would read these entries so he made funny jokes to himself for when he would read them back later in life. Rhys began to think, what would he do with all these entries, he had over 700 entries each as meaningless as the last. They were everyday things where nothing exciting happened, sure it was fun to write them but would they be fun and full of memories when he read them back. Rhys needed some adventurous events to happen to make it more interesting, to make him more interesting. He was a traveller with a boring life. Last week his was in a lively village and what did he do, spent most of the days sweeping a shop floor, cleaning in a tavern and grooming horses. Sure it was his way of earning money to travel but what if he found a job that was more exciting and actually involved interacting with people or something more meaningful, just something better to write in his entries so he wouldn't feel like he left his old life for nothing. | Name: Rhys Errol
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Bio: Rhy is a traveller, his hometown is unknown as he has never stayed for long in a town before. This was mostly due to his mother moving them from town to town, the reason to this day he still does not know. His mother often left him with strangers for periods of time and he has been raised by many people, although Rhys has not seen his temporary carers since his time with them as his mother would return and move him again to another town to be once again left to be raised by strangers. This cycle ended around his 17th birthday when his mother admitted she would not be returning soon and didn't want him to have to wait for her, she gave him the chance to stay where he pleased, travel back to any of his carers or go his own way and travel. Rhys chose to travel.
Who is the Seer?: A travelling companion |
395 | 8 | 24 | 1,053 | 926 | The Seer appeared...disappointed as the mystic looked into the girl's eyes. Having gleaned all the information that was necessary from her eyes the Seer turned from her to focus on finishing eating and drinking. "Revenge is it...not a motive we have any high regard for, all that breeds is hatred and malice." The Seer took another large drink of the honey-wine and smacked its lips a few times in contentment. "Despite these misgivings, fate has dictated this meeting and we shall see this through." The Seer reached into its cloak and brought forth a spool of white thread and unraveled a strand about a yard in length and cut it off with a fingernail of all things.
"Thread of Fate
Reveal the path to take
Connect the strands
Reveal the plan
Decide our fates
Before time dictates"
The Seer repeated this chant as fingers danced across the thread, leaving behind bows, loops, and knots as they went on. Soon the long strand was now looking quite irratic and utterly random. By the end there were three distinct segments that could be seen, one had more knots than anything else, the second had several bows and frayed edges, the third had a single loop and the just ended abruptly, the end torn off and broken. The Seer stared at the separate segments with a thoughtful expression, then handed it over to the young shaman. "So which of these three paths would you take?" The Seer asked and continued to finish the meal which was almost gone at this point. | Name: Unknown
Appearance: (Just ignore the 'tails')
Age: Unknown
Gender: Unknown
Bio: The Seer is an enigma and seemingly unknowable. A wanderer who at times can see the future and seems to always have mysterious events surrounding The Seer's every journey. Who is The Seer? What is the Seer? Does even The Seer know its purpose or is The Seer merely tight-lipped? What is known about the Seer is wherever The Seer travels, change is soon to follow.
Who is the Seer?: The Seer is The Seer, nothing more, nothing less. |
396 | 8 | 25 | 1,104 | 675 | Taking the spool reverently from the Seer, Argo did his best to try and discern the differences between the three threads. He'd had some practice in the arts of scrying, though his ineptitude in such matters was plain before him now. To him the spools seemed to represent different paths, each one twisting and entwining itself to the others, each contributing towards a common, if confused, mass. "Forgive me Seer, but I can draw nothing of importance from it. These strands seem to represent the lives of various people, though how they interact and what will become of them I cannot say." In a way, Argo felt that he was already failing. Something as simple as this first task had clearly shown his training to be not up to the task at hand. Still, he couldn't let that deter him from future venture.
Twisting over the massed threads in his hands, Argo's eyes once again turned to the fellow mystic, offering a question. "If the Seer does not mind, I would like to know what they think of it?" The shaman's hands offered the twisted web of threads back, fingers guiding the clump back onto the table before the Seer. Perhaps if he knew something of the Seer's methods it would be easier to determine the proper way to answer the problem. | Name: Argo of Crosshaven
Age: 16
Gender: Male
Bio: A villager turned aspiring healer. Argo dreams of one day becoming the shaman of his village (which currently has none), healing the sick and infirm and giving good counsel to his fellow villagers.
Who is the Seer?: A person of great learning through which Argo will be able to attain his dream of becoming a great shaman and healer. |
397 | 8 | 26 | 118 | 298 | As the Seer decried her dreams revenge out loud, Niana felt a wave of defeat wash over her. Her shoulders slumped. If she had cat ears they would have drooped. A fresh tide of tears came out and made their way down her already wet cheeks. Her family would never rest in peace it seemed. Their souls would be doomed to wander restlessly, justice eluding them. The feral girl wanted to storm out of the stupid human building and go running off into the wild, where she truly belonged; but for some reason she remained in front of the Seer who was doing some magic with a string. Not that Niana could understand any of it. She looked at the man next to the Seer. He smelled of herbs and spices. Some sort of shaman perhaps? It didn't matter. Niana grasped her knife around her neck with both hands and shut her eyes, trying to stem the tide of tears. | Name: Niana
Age: 18
Gender: Female
Bio: Originally from Crosshaven, Niana and her parents went up to the mountains looking for her older sister who had disappeared a few days before. It turned out that bandits had robbed her and left her for dead on the snowy slope of a mountain. When the rest of the family arrived, the bandits struck again, murdering Niana's parents but sparing her and leaving 12 year old Niana in the nearby forest to her fate. Determined to survive, Niana has lived for the past five years in the forest, not sure of where she was or how to get home. She learned to be self-sufficient and to thrive in the wild of the mountain and forests bordering the fields of Crosshaven, and eventually in the last year found her way back to the wide-open plains surrounding Crosshaven. She has not formally reentered the town, but instead watches and observes daily life from the shadows and outskirts of the town, which is how she found out about the Seer.
Who is the Seer?: Someone who can help her track down the men that killed her sister and parents.
There's mine ^.^V |
398 | 8 | 27 | 217 | 159 | A cloud of dust began to settle over the cobbled path as Fredrick came to a halt outside the stables, the groom whom was a young boy by the looks of things, stared dejectedly off into space.
"Boy. See to it that my horse is stabled and fed." He commanded, dismounting from his horse fluidly, handing the boy the reigns and a couple of coppers, before quickly pushing passed him to get to the tavern entrance. The young fellow sneered at his back, and spat on floor, somewhat disgruntled from being awoken from his daydream, but Fredrick paid him no mind.
He had quickly heard talk of the seers location, and so had half of the town supposedly from the din of noise that was coming from within, carefully he opened the doorway and pushed his way through a group of people that had amassed around one of the tables. Many eyed the sword on his hip suspiciously, others went so far as to challenge him with disapproving stares, it wasn't common for a man to walk around armed in a small town like this, and had this been some other day he might of even taught a few of them some lessons in respect, but no, his mind was focused solely on the seer. And if it isn't the seer? The question skittered across his thoughts. Perhaps just some pretender? Another one suggested, color rose up his neck at the remembrance of his haste, a flaw that his master had once said would be the death of him. Pausing for a second behind the last wall of onlookers, he pushed forward, quickly taking in the scene before him.
An odd girl, scantily dressed, beside the poncho she wore, stood before the table. Her eyes tightly shut, perhaps hiding from the looks she was earning from some of the patrons, looks that were far more threatening than any his sword had received. Her odd dress style at least drew eyes away from his own. The young town shaman was contemplating pieces of thread in front of a stranger, confusion painted across his face, as he offered them back. So this was the supposed seer, doesn't look like much. He wondered, crossing his arms across his chest, he decided to watch and contemplate his next move. Oh wouldn't you be proud Master. Here I am finally exerting patience and careful thought. He thought bitterly as he waited for the supposed seers reaction, doubt held reservation in his mind and he was beginning to regret having acted on a rumor. | Name: Fredrick Riel
Appearance:
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Lucas was born far to the west, in a land where the success of a nobles family was dependent upon the skill of the houses swordsmen, with custom dictating that all disputes and matters are settled with duels. To prevent putting the nobility at risk, they and only they, are allowed to employ the talents of simple folk to fight their duels for them. With his parents being poor Lucas could barely remember them, as he was sold to 'House Riel' at a young age, and put to training as a swordsman immediately. When he reached the age of sixteen he was granted his first personal blade, a steel short sword which he had named 'Nightbane', a weapon that swiftly helped him earn a name for himself among the Houses. Lucrative offers were made to House Riel in return for the lads service, but the House had grown proud of their fierce fighter, publicly declaring him the best in all the lands and granting the young man the right to wear their name.
Word soon got to the king, of a small house, boasting of having the finest swordsman in the lands, wishing to see so for himself, he journeyed to their home and offered to buy the swordsmen from them, but in their arrogance they declined. The refusal was seen as an insult and direct challenge to the kings authority, using his influence he had the house stripped of its lands and titles and sent into exile. Young Lucas stuck with the family as they traveled east through the hinterlands with what little possessions remained to them, but inexperience with the rigors of travel led to the death of many, with once loyal house guards turning bandit.
Wounded from his ordeals and attempts to crush the mutiny of his fellow swordsman, Lucas was left behind by those whom had escaped the battle unscathed, and had been forced to leave behind those too sick or frail to keep up. Eventually Barren earth gave way to lush grass, than fields of corn, Lucas collapsed at the feet of the first person he had seen in days, shortly passing out afterward. The man who had found him, a local farmer of the township of Crosshaven, helped nurse him back to health and offered lodgings to the young man in return for help with work around the farm. He accepted immediately and worked many a season for his savior, but in his heart he longed to return to his homeland and slay the man who ruined his House, yet found he knew not the way home.
Who is the Seer?: Someone who may know of his homeland, as the name has been met with confused stares by all others/ A travelling companion. |
399 | 8 | 28 | 1,053 | 926 | The Seer stared blankly at Argo for a moment, then suppressed a small chuckle. "Well you're honest I'll give you that." The Seer picked up the mess of thread and waved it around for a moment. "You know what these mean?" The Seer pointed at several different locations seemingly at random. "Absolutely nothing! We literally just made up that bunch of hogwash to see if you had an ounce of brains in ya! If you had tried to figure out some deeper meaning from this batch of worthlessness we would have booted you out for being a fraud. Still, you did at least guess at the meaning we were trying to convey." The seer then unraveled the thread on a whim, somehow managed to get rid of all the loops, knots, and even frayed edges making the thread completely whole again, back on the spool in the Seer's cloak.
"As for you girl, stop being on the verge of tears!" The Seer turned back to Niana with great purpose, as her eyes had been closed that allowed the Seer to lightly pinch the young woman's cheeks between it's thumbs and forefingers and gave her face a quick stretch and suddenly had hands to the side as if nothing had happened. "Just because we do not personally approve does not mean I won't help. In any event they should be brought to justice, in that fact you will find no argument from us; however we do have more pressing matters that may take my attention from the task of tracking them down. Also be thankful that your thread of fate just so happens to coincide with one we need to follow." The Seer then glared at one of the newest onlookers who happened to be Fredrick.
"That look of careful examination does not suit you." Then the Seer made a parting motion to the crowd. "Make way, we already have what we came here for." He/She was going to take a step toward the exit and into the crowd when the Seer turned around to make sure the food and drink had been finished. Seeing that it had all been devoured and paid for, the Seer said "our compliments for the food and honey-wine", took Niana by the wrist in a firm but gentle grip, then promptly stepped into the crowd. It was a curious thing that happened next, those in front of the Seer just felt the need to step out of the way as soon as the Seer was near them. A few tried to resist but did not try hard enough and before the Seer could plow into any of them they stepped out of the way. It was kind of like seeing a magnet that repels metal being pushed through sand. Those who nearby felt like the Seer should just not be touched, those that tried to touch Niana as they passed suddenly felt as if an icicle was pressed against their spine and that shock and sudden fear made sure she was safe.
"If you are coming then come," the Seer directed this to Argo and Frederick, not through sight but a sort of voice projection. "Otherwise go back to your ales and beers. We are quite busy." Before two more shakes of a stick they had already made their way out the door and into the street. | Name: Unknown
Appearance: (Just ignore the 'tails')
Age: Unknown
Gender: Unknown
Bio: The Seer is an enigma and seemingly unknowable. A wanderer who at times can see the future and seems to always have mysterious events surrounding The Seer's every journey. Who is The Seer? What is the Seer? Does even The Seer know its purpose or is The Seer merely tight-lipped? What is known about the Seer is wherever The Seer travels, change is soon to follow.
Who is the Seer?: The Seer is The Seer, nothing more, nothing less. |
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