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3,600 | 81 | 73 | 2,532 | 122 | Turning towards Dirion, but still keeping his eyes peeled for danger,
"The Salvager with the needles did this to Busker. I was able to get him a potion and it seems like he is healing. But just in case, please keep an eye on him. I'll be in your debt if we can keep Busker and Wink from any more harm."
Then Gharlyc heard "You will keep this girl safe, under all costs, if you must die so be it, but she cannot die", turning his attention back to the situation at hand. He didn't want to leave Busker's side, but like him, Seloria was also trying to protect someone. And as of now, that was something he could sympathize with. Plus, Pallas was a good and worthy person to help. Hoping that Dirion would watch over Busker and Wink, Gharlyc left the bar.
Dashing over to Edward, Gharlyc puts a gentle hand on his shoulder,
"Milord, you must come to your senses! If you do not wish to fight then either take refuge behind the bar or assist me in helping Milady here. "
Then eyeing the sword that the bard had thrown over, Gharlyc took it and placed it in front of Edward.
Then stepping over to Pallas,
"Milady, are you alright? It looks like you're healing, but would you like us to help you to a 'safer' location?"
Depnding on her reply (or lack of), Gharlyc readied himself to either carry or drag (he hadn't decided which) Pallas behind the bar, with or without Edward's help. | NAME: Gharlyc
RELATIONSHIP WITH BUSKER: Busker and Gharlyc are old drinking buddies. They were pretty good friends, but that was many years ago.
NEED: To crush his enemies just to get a moment's peace.
OBJECT: Poisoned dagger
DETAILS: With a wide nose and perpetual bad breath, this middle aged dwarf is constantly looking around his shoulders with his large, almost lidless and bulging eyes. He has dark brown hair with silver streaks at the temples (too soon for his age). A shorter than average dwarf, Gharlyc fought his way through life by being faster and nastier than everyone else. Busker was Gharlyc's only friend. Has been away from town for 7 years, only to return just recently. |
3,601 | 81 | 74 | 2,188 | 1,106 | Fate snarled as the stench erupted in her face. Reeling backwards she yelped, dropping her hammers and pawing madly at her snout, which only caused her sensitive nose even more panic, as the goop was in her paws, she was covered in it actually. No longer able to stand the odor, Fate leaned forward, dry heaving, totally grossed out, there was no way she was eating that! Blargh. It made her shudder just thinking of it.
“Wolf-girl! Quickly! The elixir! On the body- give it to the barman! It will save him!” The bard's hoarse voice barely registered, too busy backpedaling away from the, the thing on the ground. She couldn't, she couldn't go near that thing. She had just enough presence of mind to snag her hammers and drag them with her as she fumbled away from the vile heap on the floor.
It was all well and good, Fate thought, for the bard to say that, when he didn't have to go near the pulpy mess. She glanced over to the bard when music started to add to the chaos already painting the tavern in pandemonium. Was he mad?! Fate couldn't help but question, To just randomly pick up his instrument and play?! At a time like this? But even so she could feel her foot yearning to tap to the beat. | I can't seem to work out/decide on a Need, so for now, if that's alright, Fate just has a temporary goal, she will probably chose a real goal eventually.
NAME: Fate
RELATIONSHIP WITH WINK AND BUSKER: Fate works and lives at The Bawdy Dog, thanks to Wink’s not so soft heart, and constant requirement for an extra pair of working hands.
NEED: She’s not quite sure yet, for the most part however her short time goal is indulging in brawls.
She reckons she’ll wing it for now, and find something uh… bigger to occupy her time, hopefully fairly soon.
OBJECT:
DETAILS: Fate is a 16 year old Werewolf, able to shift at will, although the further from full moon it is, the harder and more painful it gets. New moon leaves her weak, and full moon induces a blood rage. The closer to full moon it is, the more violent she gets. Even in human form she is stronger than she looks, with stronger scenes, although there is the down side of sharing the same almost colorblindness as a normal wolf, all the time. Her eye is damaged, clawed scares sweeping through, and she suffers from a lack of depth perception.
This slightly impairs her fighting, as she can't judge the distance, this however she remedies by getting "up-close-and-personal" smashing them with either her fists or hammers. She keeps her fighting out of the tavern, most of the time. For 'blood moons' as she calls them, Fate disappears into the nearby woods, in the hope of lessening the number of humans she mauls, rather hunting game. |
3,602 | 81 | 75 | 2,311 | 82 | The trembling did not cease when Edward saw Ealdwine collapse to the floor. It didn’t stop when Ealdwine threw his sword to him.
“I once taught you- now teach me! Many of your forebears were storied warriors. You studied fencing as well as music, did you not? Show me how a Hart-Ellington faces death!”
A well of annoyance grew in place of dread.
“I hope it does not involve crying on a filthy tavern floor.”
Oh you dirty pompous old--
Instantly, Edward sprang up, and grabbed Ealdwine’s rapier from the dwarf. His eyes were still puffy and his nose was red, but he turned towards the carnage. The shaking had stopped. His sense of smell returned, and he covered his face at the stench that flooded his nostrils. He looked to Pallas, who had been pierced in the abdomen, but rescued by the bandaged woman. This was his chance to redeem himself.
He turned to the dwarf with resolve, ready to help him take Pallas away. | Name: Edward (Heir to the Hart-Ellington nobility and estate)
Needs: To see the world that he's been sheltered from, and woo as many lovely ladies as possible.
Object: hand cannon - sort of like an early primitive blunderbuss.
Detail: The cocky but intelligent 23 year old son of a rich nobleman, Edward has lived all of his life in the lap of luxury. Feeling cooped up in the world of the bourgeoisie however, Edward decided to flee his father's estate and see the world. On his way out, he managed to steal quite the hefty pouch of gold and one of his inventions, which he calls a hand cannon. As bright as he believes himself to be though, he's found that his refined upbringing and womanizing ways have not served him well on his journey so far.
(5'9", slim build, caucasian complexion, boyish, clean pretty face, blonde, blue eyed. Aristocratic wardrobe. Only difference is he always wears a top hat)
Relationship to Pallas: Met her at another tavern prior to the start of the narrative. Stricken by her confidence and ambition, Edward sought to get to know her better. To his surprise, Pallas returned his sentiments, and a wonderful evening was spent conversing with the young bounty hunter. Though the night ended without any sort of conclusion, Edward likes to think that something lovely could happen if they ever were to meet again.
Relationship to Ealdwine: Ealdwine took up residence at the house of Hart-Ellington as a musician and instructor when Edward was in his teenage years. He really didn't like him. |
3,603 | 81 | 76 | 1,201 | 1,278 | As the Salvager slashed her throat with a needle, Pallas's life flashed before her eyes. "This is it," she thought to herself. "I'm really going to die this time. I've had a good run, right? Though I didn't get to do all of the things I wanted yet. I hope, at least, Edward will be alright."
As her consciousness was starting to drift away, she felt a burning, bloodied pair of lips hurriedly placed on top of her own. The act seemed to grip onto her soul, forcing it to stay in this earthly body. Pallas did not need to open her eyes to know who it was, though it felt like a dream. There was only one person in the world with such a warm presence and there was only one person that she knew would do that for her: Seloria.
But why was she here? Pallas has not seen her at all the entire two years since she has left to become a bounty hunter. Oh, how she had missed her but did not dare find her until she had accomplished something worthy of making her teacher proud. Instead, she had to save Pallas once again. If she was not in such a critical situation, she would be feeling ashamed by that. No, right now, she was afraid. What was going to happen to Seloria now? How can she take on such monsters? Pallas was not aware of Seloria's powers and even though she knew her teacher was strong, was she strong enough to take on the Salvagers?
Pallas' wounds were still in the process of healing when she was placed in front of Gharlyc and Edward. She did not awake from her near-death experience but a word managed to escape her lips. "Sel....oria..." | Name: Pallas
Relationship with Milo: Pallas is a bounty hunter, with Milo as her bounty. There is a high price for Milo's head as she is known for the suffering she has brought onto others.
Relationship with 's character/Seloria: Bounded together since she was young, Seloria is a protector, teacher, and important friend to Pallas.
Relationship with Edward: He hit on her one day in another tavern, which she mistakenly taken as him being friendly. They still get along with each other though and Pallas likes to think they are friends.
Needs: To be a hero by defeating all the horrible monsters that harm the innocent and poor.
Object: Dragonbane Blade
Detail: Pallas is young, new bounty hunter who is quickly going up the ranks. As soon as she turned 18, she took the Dragonbane blade her late father used during his adventuring days, and began her journey. Despite the reputation that bounty hunters have, she actually isn't in it for the money. She, of course, accepts payments for her kills, but just enough for her to survive. So far, she has only been doing smaller jobs, but hopes to one day rid the world of villains, one slash of her sword at a time. |
3,604 | 81 | 77 | 1,690 | 313 | While the Dwarf was talking to Dirion he was finally able to look around him to see Busker. The man was lying in a pool of blood, but Dirion couldn't see any wound. He didn't know where the little man got his hands on a potion, but wherever he got it from it seemed to be doing some good.
The Dwarf told Dirion to guard Busker and Wink. To be honest Dirion was already planning on doing so, but it put him on ease to know the man didn't wish either of them harm. The Dwarf huddled past Dirion and ran out back into the fray. And though even though Dirion was not much of a religious man he gave a small prayer for him. Would be horrible to think of someone missing him out of the corner of their eye and lopping off his head.
Dirion danced around the puddle of blood and crouched behind the bar next to Wink. He gave a good scan, well as good a scan you can give intoxicated, over Busker. He still couldn't find any sort of wounds and the the old dog was starting to look better every second. Dirion turned his gaze to Wink. Now, normally Dirion could claim being quite skilled at reading people when he had his wits about him. And from time to time he would claim that he could talk down a charging bull. Sadly, he did not have his wits about him. All Dirion could really tell was that Wink was, well quite obviously, upset.
Wanting to try and ease her mind Dirion started turning the gears in his mind for something to say. The only thing he managed to come up with was, 'And here I though I wouldn't have to pay my tab.' Normally a joke would lighten people's hearts. But this joke would just get Dirion mauled by young Wink he guessed.
Giving up on saying anything very meaningful Dirion just said, "Are you okay?" And for the first time he realized just how loud it was in the Dog. He could barely hear his own voice leave his throat. And he had little hope that Wink could hear him either. Everyone was yelling and there was an unearthly rumbling shaking throughout the entire tavern.
Dirion this time yelled, "Are you okay?!" At Wink. Though it was still hard to hear he was confident she would hear him this time.
As he was waiting for her to respond a tankard fell off the bar. Dirion looked up to see many of the mugs, cups, and other forms of liquid holders shaking on the edge of the bar. A hair's length from falling off and crashing into the defenseless body of Dirion and Wink. He paused for a moment thinking of what to do, but that second was long enough for the glasses to come falling down. He shifted over Wink to try and cover her and felt himself get beaten by weighty tankards.
In front of him, towards to back of the bar now. Dirion could both see and hear Busker's few more expensive bottles of spirits crashing to the ground. Broken shards littered the floor all around Busker. As far as Dirion could tell none of it had hit him. He hoped he was right.
While the avalanche of cups began to cease and the bottles of alcohol continued to fall Dirion had only two thoughts in his mind. One? He was going to be feeling those tankards in the morning. And two? There was probably some ironic message to Dirion about the evil of drinking, what with him being assaulted by ale and ale equipment. The gods certainly had an odd sense of humor. | ꝿ NAME: Dirion Seryn
ꝿ RELATIONSHIP WITH BUSKER: Dirion has been bumming around The Bawdy Dog for around a week and a half. During this time he has become somewhat of a regular. More to the point, he has grown quite the tab. Half due to his new drinking problem and half because of Busker's "business" practices. Dirion now only has enough to pay for half the tab. Dirion holds a strong disdain for Busker because of the hole he put him in.
ꝿ RELATIONSHIP WITH PALLAS: Dirion has picked up chatter over time in the Dog (Read: Just a second ago/right before she walked in.) That Pallas is a bounty hunter. Now normally an innocent man has nothing to fear from a bounty hunter. But sadly this is not a normal kind of time. For all Dirion knows there is a sizable bounty on him just waiting to be plucked up... He was have to be careful around her.
ꝿ NEEDS: To find and crush his enemies because they destroyed his life.
ꝿ OBJECT: His and Brigen's rings.
ꝿ DETAILS: Dirion was raised by a sellsword named Victor starting at the age of eleven. This is because he was forced to leave his home due to unfortunate circumstances. During his time he was taught how to fight along moving without a sound and ehm.. Cajoling women. Much to his now distaste. Eventually Victor died and Dirion went out on his own. Soon finding... Her.
Dirion fell in love with the daughter of a noble that ruled over a nearby city. Her name was Brigen. The father didn't approve but they were planning to get married one way or another. After fighting with the Father over their marriage for a long time Dirion and Brigen argeed to elope. The night they planned to leave Dirion went to Brigen's bedroom to find her dead, strangled. By who he didn't know. A second later guards burst into her room and arrested Dirion for Brigen's murder. He managed to escape on his way to execution. Not soon after fleeing the city.
Now Dirion stews in The Bawdy Dog all day. He plans to soon launch an investigation to find who killed his love. Once he gets enough coin to hire some help. And.... And maybe after just one more bottle..
Dirion's hair is long and his features thin and sharp. While his haired is naturally blond he died it grey to disguise as an old man to help him flee the city. He did not take into account how hard the blasted dye would be to get out once he had gotten it in. While you can see fringes of blond hairs starting to poke out from the roots the majority of his hair is still grey. He covers himself in a bland brown cloak. Underneath hides some decent grade garb. Better than what a regular peasant would have, but no where near as good as something of a lord or nobles cloth. |
3,605 | 81 | 78 | 1,583 | 2,241 | The Dagger Salvager is Dead
Fate snarled as the stench erupted in her face. Reeling backwards she yelped, dropping her hammers and pawing madly at her snout, which only caused her sensitive nose even more panic. No longer able to stand the odor, Fate leaned forward, dry heaving. She had just enough presence of mind to snag her hammers and drag them with her as she fumbled away from the vile heap on the floor.
Hoping that Dirion would watch over Busker and Wink, Gharlyc left the bar. . . . Depnding on her reply (or lack of), Gharlyc readied himself to either carry or drag (he hadn't decided which) Pallas behind the bar, with or without Edward's help.
Instantly, Edward sprang up, and grabbed Ealdwine’s rapier from the dwarf. His eyes were still puffy and his nose was red, but he turned towards the carnage. The shaking had stopped. His sense of smell returned, and he covered his face at the stench that flooded his nostrils. He turned to the dwarf with resolve, ready to help him take Pallas away.
Pallas' wounds were still in the process of healing when she was placed in front of Gharlyc and Edward. She did not awake from her near-death experience but a word managed to escape her lips. "Sel....oria..."
And the bard's fingers began to strum a lively tune. The broken string was long forgotten, and of little consequence now. It was a piece he had learned many years ago, from a trio of dwarven musicians. The Dagger Dance, they had called it. It was an apt addition to the increasingly bloody and desperate ambiance.
The Needle Salvager
Jumping over tables, she quickly made her way behind the unsuspecting Salvager. Her eye glowing red, she kicked it in the back with enough force that should have sent him through the wall.
A few needles flung and scattered on the floor, and the Salvager CRASHED clean through the wall and tumbled in the gravel and weeds in the darkness outside. The wall was now splintered and gaping wide, and a light breeze drifted coolly into the room.
The Salvager finally rolled to a stop against a disused trough, and it righted itself and marched -- unharmed -- back to the tavern. It ducked through the hole in the wall and once again stepped inside.
Turning to the Salvager that hurt Pallas, she slowly opened her eye and to everyone it would feel like the air in the room was surging towards her. Her Iris was pure red and suddenly her body started to glow. From her eye, aura like snakes began to crawl out of it and slither across her body until it completely engulfed her in a purple light. From within the purple light, her body seemingly dropped to all fours and her backend sprouted tails. She let out a blood boiling howl.
The air in the tavern -- and gravity itself -- sucked toward Seloria in her transformation. The walls trembled and creaked, weakened by the hole in the side of the tavern. Bottles fell from the shelves and smashed on the floor; ale and cheap wine pooled everywhere. At the Seloria-beast's howl, the shattered wall of the tavern cracked and buckled slightly; wood dust rained down from the rafters and settled in the spreading puddles of ale and wine and blood.
The Salvager paused, and did not approach. Seloria stood between it and the invisible Drow it was after.
The Salvager shot six needles into the purple energy in rapid procession, aiming for the body that crouched inside: her red eye, her throat, her hand, two to her rips and one to her abdomen. Before the last needle had met its mark, the Salvager broke into a sprint, leaped high in the air, and smashed its feet down into Seloria's back, with another needle ready to pierce the back of her skull.
The Scimitar Salvager Has Captured Milo
In less than a second, the Salvager had wrapped the injured and recovering Milo in a cocoon of white and gold fabric (the source of which was as mysterious as the face behind the mask). The Salvager draped the siren over its shoulder and proceeded to finish its mission. Starting with Fate.
The Salvager broke into a run at Fate -- who was still reeling over the stench of the rotted corpse -- leaped up and sliced the scimitar deftly at her throat.
The blade had a slightly sticky, bluish residue that gleamed on the metal. It was of a similar shade as that of the elixir that both Milo and Busker drank. Should the scimitar hit its target -- and cause a deep gash under Fate's coarse fur -- it would leave behind a numbing sensation, and the wound would begin to fester and rot.
The Salvager immediately turned to continue the fight, with Milo still over its shoulder, and sliced at her wrists and forearms with the intent of forcing her to let go of her weapons. It realized the danger they held.
Meanwhile, Milo -- who was stuck inside the cocoon of cloth, bouncing about on the Salvager's shoulder and unable to see anything that's going on -- would no longer feel any pain from the wound in her stomach. However, she had stopped breathing, and no longer needed to breathe at all.
The elixir had a grave side-effect, after all.
Busker and Wink
Once on his feet Dirion scrambled around the bar to the other side. Dirion this time yelled, "Are you okay?!" At Wink. Though it was still hard to hear he was confident she would hear him this time. As he was waiting for her to respond a tankard fell off the bar. Dirion looked up to see many of the mugs, cups, and other forms of liquid holders shaking on the edge of the bar. A hair's length from falling off and crashing into the defenseless body of Dirion and Wink. He shifted over Wink to try and cover her and felt himself get beaten by weighty tankards.
The fire in the hearth roared higher and wider than ever. The walls all around were creaking, wind gusted everywhere, a mounted troll's head slipped off its peg on the wall and clattered into the fire.
Wink was in shock. She shivered as if she were freezing, and she barely blinked while she watched the battle between the purple glowing monstrosity and the equally bizarre faceless-man. She vaguely heard Gharlyc's voice and didn't quite comprehend his presence or leaving. All of this was a nightmare. Just a nightmare she would wake up from at any moment.
She snapped out of it to see Dirion stooped over her, his face contorted in pain as heavy tankards and bottles cracked against his back. She stared at him with red, watery eyes, and instinctively wrapped an arm behind his neck and dragged him away from that spot just before a bigger, heavier bottle cracked into the floor.
Wink breathed heavily, staring out into the chaos of the tavern, wiped away knots of haggard hair from her face, while still clutching Dirion like a lifeline. "What's happening?" she asked in a voice that was much more composed than she looked. She swallowed and laid a hand on her father's forehead. The wound in his neck was gone, but he was still covered in blood. "What was that stuff the dwarf gave him?" This question was almost accusing; even now, while the world was falling apart around her, she could not trust anyone, Gharlyc least of all.
As she touched Busker, her father released a breath and did not breathe in again. While the chaos clanged and shouted and roared all around, Wink waited and watched for air to fill Busker's lungs again -- but Busker was no longer breathing.
"Dad?"
She shook Busker's shoulder, the other arm still clinging to Dirion. "Daad? Dad? Dad, breathe!" Panic was sinking in again, and she hiccupped back a sob.
Busker's eyes opened, and they were a glassy gray. The barkeep turned and sat up slowly, his expression blank.
Wink smiled in relief -- but when her father didn't acknowledge her, she tentatively reached out to him again. "Dad, come on, we have to get out of here."
Busker stood slowly, and only remained there motionless, listening to the cacophony of the tavern, because he could no longer see. He would never take another breath again. | Yer parents 're dead, yer house burned down and yer dog was kicked off a cliff. Revenge is a perfectly healthy way to cope, I think. How 'bout a refill on that ale?
Well, this development was slightly unexpected . . .
CHARACTER SHEET
ꝿ NAME: (the name of your character)
ꝿ RELATIONSHIP WITH : (Pick a Relationship and someone else's character)
Siblings
Unrequited lovers
Spouses in an arranged marriage
Linked by blood ritual
Assassin/target
Rescuer/rescuee
Employer/henchman
Former cellmates
Bounty hunter/bounty
Creator/golem
Sorceror/apprentice
Diabolist/intended sacrificial victim
Werewolf/hunter
Same non-human race
Members of the same religion or guild
Longtime adventuring companions
Drinking buddies
Reluctant allies
Vicious scoundrel/pacifist healer
You each have a scar the other gave you
"You killed my father"
ꝿ NEED: (your character's major goal)
To be a hero
...by defending the little guy
...to that one special person
...so you can lord over everybody else
...in the public's eyes, even if you really aren't
To crush your enemies
...because they ruined your life
...and enslave them
...and they're all enemies
...just to get a moment's peace
To amass a hoard
...by killing every monster you see
...through shady dealings
...of forbidden lore
...to fund a private army
To fly
...with everybody else's treasure
...after one last quest
...before they realize who you really work for
...literally, using a spell or maybe a catapult
To rule
...by marrying a royal heir
...on a throne of your enemies' skulls
...an army of undead
...and impose your type of justice
To overindulge
...with wenches
...in drink
...in rampant thievery
...in forbidden rituals
...in bloodshed
...in tavern brawls
ꝿ OBJECT: (a nifty thing your character possesses)
Weapons
Flaming sword (sword of cataclysmic combustion)
Poisoned dagger (dirk of vicious viper's venom)
Big-ass iron warhammer
Ancient elven bow
Dragonbane blade (broadsword of scaly slaughter)
Catapult
Soul-stealing scepter (scepter of severed souls)
Sentient spear (longspear of wise council)
Cursed blade (cutlass of cruel calamity)
Seeking arrow (arrow of absolutely accurate archery)
Betrayer's axe (greataxe of pliant perfidy)
Staff of resurrection with one charge left
Spells
Enchanting Charm
Transformative Polymorph
Spectral Ward
Demonic Summoning
Trapping Paralysis
Exploding Lightning
Magic Items
Invisibility cloak
Crystal ball of future sight
Crown of fearlessness
Mystery potion (nobody knows what it does)
Impervious chain shirt
Trophies
Mounted troll's head
Genie bottle
Dragon's flame sac
Tome of dark rituals
Gold ring on a mummy's severed finger
Massive pile of gold coins
Sentimental
Strange charm left with a foundling
Invitation to a prestigious order
Statue of a deity (with a hidden compartment)
Old ally polymorphed into a toad
Royal lady's garter
ꝿ DETAILS: (anything and everything you're inspired to write here)
NON-PLAYER CHARACTERS
ꝿ NAME: Busker
ꝿ RELATIONSHIP WITH WINK: Busker's the owner of this fine establishment and Wink is his daughter and most incompetent employee.
ꝿ RELATIONSHIP WITH FATE: Fate is another of Busker's employees, whom he hired when Wink demanded help with the heavy lifting. Usually Fate so good at her job that Busker forgets she works there, but some nights he hides under the bar while she flies into a rage at the patrons.
ꝿ RELATIONSHIP WITH GHARLYC: Busker and Gharlyc go way back, when Busker was young and Gharlyc was still an endearingly heartless bastard. He cherishes memories of drunken stories and exploits of cruelty and power. He credits Gharlyc for teaching him the value of self-preservation and of using others to get what he wants.
ꝿ NEEDS: To wring as much money out of his drunken patrons as possible.
ꝿ OBJECT: Mounted troll's head hanging proudly over the hearth.
ꝿ DETAILS: Busker is middle-aged and balding, with a wide girth and a toadlike nose. He stands behind the bar most nights, listening to rambling stories and adding up tabs. He's quick with a compliment and a smile that never quite reaches his beady eyes.
BUSKER IS DEAD. Sort of. He walks around all right, and some part of his mind still recognizes Wink as his daughter, and he's not murderous at all. At least not yet. But he is definitely dead.
ꝿ NAME: Wink
ꝿ RELATIONSHIP WITH BUSKER: Wink is Busker's daughter. She's also the one who runs this dump, despite what Busker may claim.
ꝿ RELATIONSHIP WITH FATE: Wink and Fate both work at the Bawdy Dog; although technically they both equally work for Busker, Wink does not hesitate to order Fate to take care of the less savory chores. Despite this, Wink considers Fate as a friend and defends her unconditionally.
ꝿ NEEDS: To win the favor of a rich nobleman and run away with him.
ꝿ OBJECT: A rabbit's foot in her pocket.
ꝿ DETAILS: Wink isn't the prettiest in town, but she keeps her hair neat and her corset tight. She can be flirtatious one moment and coolly authoritative the next, especially when the tavern's well-being is threatened.
Wink is Busker's daughter. Right now her priority is to survive, and to make sure Busker doesn't hurt anyone. |
3,606 | 81 | 79 | 1,222 | 110 | Nothing but pure chaos at every angle of degree the neck turned. The Bawdy Dog buzzed with glorious disaster and a frenzy of busy bodies. It was here Jargo felt most at home, even if he was slightly peeved at not having gotten to the precious potions on time. Oh, well. But, wait...
Not far from where the barmaster was gulping in his first unliving breaths, the lucky demon spied the discarded bottle that had once held the unfortunately marvelous elixir. So close. So close he could almost taste it. Slithering atop the counter, he crept like a happy chesterine in hopes the hasty heroes hadn't used it all up and just maybe enough lingered to fetch a pretty price.
Alas, no... The tyrants had emptied the little vile of anything worth spilling. The jester frowned--the muscles in his face almost unable to bend into the necessary upside-down crescent to form a proper frown, but nonetheless he looked as disappointed as he could force his expression. Although, as he pouted at his misfortune, the heat from his filthy palm was allowed to coax the tiny residue from the bottle's sides and a single drop was able to form in the bottom rim. Jargo blinked at his new friend, his black eyes distorting in the smooth glass thinking he might see answers in the final droplet.
Immediately, his attention was back on the bar and so was a new grin--a wicked, toothy, and crooked grin full of elation with a dangerous game playing in his mind. Without another thought, the insane demon threw the bottle into his mouth and scattered the thing in one mighty chomp--the bitter sting of the potion and blood exciting his tongue and body.
Goodbye, Jargo the Luck Demon and, hello, Jargo the Flesh Eater. | Name: Jargo
Relationship with : The luckiest of the unlucky. Jargo tricked Seloria in a deal she presumed to be to her benefit only to have her eye taken as the demon's prize. Now the girl seeks revenge for what she believes was injustice.
Need: To overindulge in the downfall of others.
Object: An empty hourglass.
Details: A merchant by trade, Jargo is a luck demon often mistaken as a genie (So rude.) His first love is altering fate for better or for worse; fortune doesn’t always smile. |
3,607 | 81 | 80 | 1,063 | 170 | CRASH
A great hole in the wall had opened. Who had made it, and who had survived it, Ealdwine had no idea at all. His legs really hurt. Maybe he had broken them. He was sure he would fall over if he stood up. So he stayed on the ground, his fingers dancing along the courses, up and down the damaged lute. Nothing else mattered.
Yes, nothing at all.
Maybe he had finally lost his mind. A man can only take so much heartbreak before he cracks. When the bard was young, he recalled, he had always admired his grandfather. A singer of songs and teller of stories. Quick of wit and jovial in countenance. Truly, the man who had inspired the Bard to be the man he became. But one day, not long after grandmother had died, he had wandered singing into the woods. No one saw him again. Alive, that was. The huntsmen found his half-rotten corpse a few weeks later, floating in a brook. Four feet in depth. He had drowned at four feet. But, a man can only take so much danger before he cracks.
Before he cracks. Before he slacks. before he wax. Afore de'facs.
Before he lax-fo-the-diddle-de-ri-de-O!
'But!' what was left of his sense, revolted, 'Danger!'
The Danger Room! There was a song to die for! Nay, a song to die to! Ealdwine transitioned effortlessly from the Dagger Dance to his new song. Without distractions, and with a most intrigued audience, he began to play the Danger Room. Its introduction was most snappy, and well-suited to the rowdy but sociable atmosphere in the Dog. He had learned it from a Dwarven trio, the same that had taught him the previous piece. Doren, Minkot, and...
What was her name?
Nil!
Ah, the body on that one. Buxom and stout, and full of energy. They had spent a few nights together, far beneath the peaks of the mountains in ancient halls of stone. Just remembering it made the Bard lovesick. Did not old Nil have a son? Was the boy his? He had always wanted to settle down and have a family. A boy, maybe a girl or two. A dog, even. Hehe, dog. Bawdy Dog. He could certainly have done worse than Nil, in any event- and as often as not he had.
But can Man and Dwarf procreate? Is that even possible?
Was he recalling any of this correctly? Was Nil even a real person?
Or is Nil a man? Maybe Minkot is the lass.
No matter! The introduction was over, and the words had now begun. Ealdwine was never a master linguist, and his Dwarvish was never any more than passable. But he knew the words to the song. He had practiced it again and again, in the Towercap Inn, and, later, in Doren's personal bedchamber. His voice rang true and loud as he played madly, his pronunciation scarce sullied by a foreign accent.
“Urem bisol udos
Nanoth okil othil,
gusil samam!
Nas-okon arol deler lam.
Akur akir akam!
Akur akir akam!”
The words translated poorly into the common tongue, but ran roughly:
“My father was a peaceful man
Never tested his weak,
copper courage!
But I'm unburdened under steel and stone.
Champions are rewarded by fortune!”
And the words ran on in likewise manner, without any regard for the lethal melee all about. There was nothing left for a bard to do but play and sing- and so he did. | Name: Ealdwine Silverstrings
Relationship to Edward: Ealdwine served the House of Hart-Ellington for several years as a musician and musical tutor, a position he received largely on the merit of being the son of one of the House's more notable retainers. Edward was his chief student, though their relationship was largely unproductive.
Needs: To write a song that will be sung for a thousand years after his death
Object: A finely-crafted lute, a gift from his departed father
Details: Well into middle age, Ealdwine's features still betray the handsomeness that marked him in his youth. His hair is light brown, streaked now with silver, and he is tall and lithe. Though often he broods on his poor fortune, now and again his blue eyes shine brightly with mirth. The rapier at his hip and the lute on his back show his profession as a bard and an adventurer, though he swears he is done delving into dusty dungeons, facing danger and pain for a mere pile of gold. But his tongue is sharp and his sword is sharper, and there is yet glory to be won.
He finds himself approaching the Bawdy Dog, fresh from a failed expedition into an already-looted tomb, hoping only for a drink, some company, and maybe a friendly audience for a song. |
3,608 | 81 | 81 | 61 | 531 | Seloria
She laid within her body coiled up, white all around her, she was naked and it seemed like a slumber. After the Savager had hit her with all the attacks, the white began to turn red and her eyes opened, being pure purple light. Standing she looked around and saw a fox sitting and watching her.
"A fox and a girl, one a liar and one pure of heart, but which one was the other?" it spoke with a deep and strong females voice.
"What...?" she walked towards it but she was suddenly frozen.
"A girl and a fox, one a fool and the other a champion, but which one was the other?" it spoke again, this time smiling almost.
"What is this? Pallas needs m-"
"The question is not what is this, but who is this. This, is you. I am you..." the fox walked towards her.
"I...dont understand?" she watched the fox walk around her, stalking her like prey almost and she felt a chill down her spine.
"You wont...but you will, I will give you one more chance, but do not act like a fool, act like a champion, do not lie, be pure of heart little one, that is all to be said" it said as it sat right in front of her. It began to glow and then tails wrapped around her body and engulfed her again.
The needles that landed on her body were absorbed into the aura, as if melted almost. As the savager landed on her and made moves to stab her in the head, her 7 tails snaked around the body of the savager and grabbed his arms and legs. Slamming it into the ground, she turned and used her clawed hands, picked him up and slammed into the ground once more. It bouncing off the ground from the force that Seloria threw it down with, she used her arms and hammer punched it dead the face, not knowing that it could possible kill the thing, but with enough force that it could break anything and everything under the masked face.
Seloria jumped back and was low to the ground, waiting to react if the Savager got up from the devastating blows to the head and body. | ꝿ NAME:
Seloria
Relationship With Pallas:
She's been by Pallas side since the very child was born, in fact she was the person who held her first before handing her to her parents. Pallas's father has made her Pallas's teacher and companion, though when Pallas left, Seloria took it upon herself to follow Pallas and keep an Eye on her without her knowing...until now.
Relationship with Jarko:
The luckiest of the unlucky. Jargo tricked Seloria in a deal she presumed to be to her benefit only to have her eye taken as the demon's prize. Now the Seloria seeks revenge for the wrongs that Jarko did to her.
ꝿ NEED:
To train and teach others in times of great need and sorrow, to make sure her pact with someone is fulfilled
ꝿ OBJECT:
Starbreather's Talon
ꝿ DETAILS:
Seloria as a child was taken by Pallas's father before Pallas was born. At first it seemed he only wanted to take in the child because she was starving and abandoned but she would soon find out what her purpose was really for. For what she didn't know was that Pallas's father was a great warrior, from where they came from he was known as a man of 1,000 cuts. When he picked her up, he wanted an apprentice, one that would be easy to train and easy to mold, so he would need a young mind. A Mind like hers.
After years and years of training, Seloria became a great swordsmen, but at a cost, she could never take a life, her mind would not allow her. And so Pallas's father deemed her be the teacher to his disciples. From then on she become a guard and a teacher. When Pallas was born, Pallas's father put Seloria as her personal companion, to be her teacher. From then on she was always by her side, right until Pallas left. She was ordered to keep an eye on Pallas but to make sure that she wouldn't find out, until now that is.
Personality:
Seloria has a very calming personality much of the time, like that of a mother or a grandmother, because of her experience as both a mother and grandmother. She learned to deal with a lot of problems and bickering and happens to have a very soothing voice that lets people calm down and almost want to sleep. She loves to go through problems with people and act like a mother or therapist giving her opinion on what they should do or say. She is over all the nicest when it comes to those sort of things and she loves helping others a lot. Even if they aren't the nicest she tries her best to help a lot of others with the problem, wether it be physical or mental she does her best to give her knowledge and smile at the person. Even arrancars would find her personality interesting as she wont fight them unless needed and would even help them depending on the task. As long as its not killing Seloria will help with almost, again almost, ever task. Though there are some boundries she will not cross, those involve her body, killing comrades, killing in general, hurting the wrong people. Those are the boundaries she will not cross even if her life is on the line and a sword is at her neck. |
3,609 | 81 | 82 | 2,532 | 122 | Seeing that Pallas was still out of it, Gharlyc and Edward grabbed under her arms and dragged her behind the bar with the others.
It was then that Gharlyc noticed Busker standing up, and for a moment, Gharlyc felt a bit of joy and relief. That however was short lived. As Gharlyc was looking Busker over for lingering injuries, he noticed the eyes and lack of breathing.
"no... No nonono no no. No! Hey! Hey~ buddy, look at me. Can you hear me? Can you hear-can you see your daughter, Wink over there? What's wrong? Eh? Well, whatever it is, we'll fix it ok? We'll get you patched up and running the tavern again in no time. Just sit down here and rest up ok? Leave things to your old pal Gharly...c..."
"Busker. Where are you going?" | NAME: Gharlyc
RELATIONSHIP WITH BUSKER: Busker and Gharlyc are old drinking buddies. They were pretty good friends, but that was many years ago.
NEED: To crush his enemies just to get a moment's peace.
OBJECT: Poisoned dagger
DETAILS: With a wide nose and perpetual bad breath, this middle aged dwarf is constantly looking around his shoulders with his large, almost lidless and bulging eyes. He has dark brown hair with silver streaks at the temples (too soon for his age). A shorter than average dwarf, Gharlyc fought his way through life by being faster and nastier than everyone else. Busker was Gharlyc's only friend. Has been away from town for 7 years, only to return just recently. |
3,610 | 81 | 83 | 2,188 | 1,106 | A quick movement from the corner of her eye snagged Fates attention, sending her whirling towards and backwards from the slicing blade. A snarl erupted from her throat, viciously feral. The scimitar hit the thick fur fluffing up her neck, the sticky goo catching and ripping whole tufts out as the white and gold clad hunk of rotting meat yanked it back. A small clatter sounded as a tiny red pendant fell to the floor, it's leather strap sliced clean through. Swiping at her arms, the creature tangled it's sword in her fur, where it stuck, no matter how hard it might pull. With one arm caught, Fate pulled her lips back in a snarl, no longer a sane beast. She swung her solo hammer round, smashing a stool or two, before lunging forward and thoughtlessly wrapping her strong jaw round it's throat, ripping away cloth and deteriorating flesh along with a handful of spine.
It took her a few seconds for the taste to sink in. Vile. Just vile. Ew. Ew. EWW!!!!! Gagging violently, her stomach rebelled, causing her to spew out a spray of rotten, saliva-slathered, hunks of stinky flesh. It was an attack that would take out any normal human, but with these godless things you could never tell. | I can't seem to work out/decide on a Need, so for now, if that's alright, Fate just has a temporary goal, she will probably chose a real goal eventually.
NAME: Fate
RELATIONSHIP WITH WINK AND BUSKER: Fate works and lives at The Bawdy Dog, thanks to Wink’s not so soft heart, and constant requirement for an extra pair of working hands.
NEED: She’s not quite sure yet, for the most part however her short time goal is indulging in brawls.
She reckons she’ll wing it for now, and find something uh… bigger to occupy her time, hopefully fairly soon.
OBJECT:
DETAILS: Fate is a 16 year old Werewolf, able to shift at will, although the further from full moon it is, the harder and more painful it gets. New moon leaves her weak, and full moon induces a blood rage. The closer to full moon it is, the more violent she gets. Even in human form she is stronger than she looks, with stronger scenes, although there is the down side of sharing the same almost colorblindness as a normal wolf, all the time. Her eye is damaged, clawed scares sweeping through, and she suffers from a lack of depth perception.
This slightly impairs her fighting, as she can't judge the distance, this however she remedies by getting "up-close-and-personal" smashing them with either her fists or hammers. She keeps her fighting out of the tavern, most of the time. For 'blood moons' as she calls them, Fate disappears into the nearby woods, in the hope of lessening the number of humans she mauls, rather hunting game. |
3,611 | 81 | 84 | 1,690 | 313 | Hammy, it looks as though we're finally on our way.
Henri was acknowledge by a little snort from the piglet tucked into the crook of his arm. Henri nodded.
"Mmm... Yes, I think so, but she said that if I didn't take you with me then she was going to turn you into bacon. You are much too small for that so you might as well just come back with me. I could turn you into a mecha-pig, I have done it before, it was a roaring success!"
The little pig just snorted again. Henri scratched his head and let out a deep, thunderous yawn. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a black stick and popped one end into his mouth. He reached back into his pocket and pulled out a small hand sized blowtorch. Clicking a trigger several times apparently didn't provide the appropriate reaction, the Doctor shook the small device roughly in the air above his head. He brought it back down and clicked the little trigger again. Suddenly a large burst of flame appeared, much to big for it's intended job. Henri leant forward, poking the stick into the enormous flame. Drawing oxygen through it produced smoke to fill his lungs. He released the trigger so that the flame died and then placed the blowtorch into his pocket. He carried on down the pathway not stopping until he reached THE BAWDY DOG.
"Let's go in, Hammy."
Dr. Vickers wasn't sure of what to make of the scene inside, apparently some sort of ruckus was going on. Deciding not to worry too much, he skirted around the room, along the walls, only occasionally asking someone to move out of the way.
"Excuse me. Pardon me, miss. Ah, no sir, this is my pig, you cannot play with him."
He made his way to where he could get a drink.
"One Ale and one slop for my friend, thank you."
As he waited he observed the room. | ꝿ NAME: Dirion Seryn
ꝿ RELATIONSHIP WITH BUSKER: Dirion has been bumming around The Bawdy Dog for around a week and a half. During this time he has become somewhat of a regular. More to the point, he has grown quite the tab. Half due to his new drinking problem and half because of Busker's "business" practices. Dirion now only has enough to pay for half the tab. Dirion holds a strong disdain for Busker because of the hole he put him in.
ꝿ RELATIONSHIP WITH PALLAS: Dirion has picked up chatter over time in the Dog (Read: Just a second ago/right before she walked in.) That Pallas is a bounty hunter. Now normally an innocent man has nothing to fear from a bounty hunter. But sadly this is not a normal kind of time. For all Dirion knows there is a sizable bounty on him just waiting to be plucked up... He was have to be careful around her.
ꝿ NEEDS: To find and crush his enemies because they destroyed his life.
ꝿ OBJECT: His and Brigen's rings.
ꝿ DETAILS: Dirion was raised by a sellsword named Victor starting at the age of eleven. This is because he was forced to leave his home due to unfortunate circumstances. During his time he was taught how to fight along moving without a sound and ehm.. Cajoling women. Much to his now distaste. Eventually Victor died and Dirion went out on his own. Soon finding... Her.
Dirion fell in love with the daughter of a noble that ruled over a nearby city. Her name was Brigen. The father didn't approve but they were planning to get married one way or another. After fighting with the Father over their marriage for a long time Dirion and Brigen argeed to elope. The night they planned to leave Dirion went to Brigen's bedroom to find her dead, strangled. By who he didn't know. A second later guards burst into her room and arrested Dirion for Brigen's murder. He managed to escape on his way to execution. Not soon after fleeing the city.
Now Dirion stews in The Bawdy Dog all day. He plans to soon launch an investigation to find who killed his love. Once he gets enough coin to hire some help. And.... And maybe after just one more bottle..
Dirion's hair is long and his features thin and sharp. While his haired is naturally blond he died it grey to disguise as an old man to help him flee the city. He did not take into account how hard the blasted dye would be to get out once he had gotten it in. While you can see fringes of blond hairs starting to poke out from the roots the majority of his hair is still grey. He covers himself in a bland brown cloak. Underneath hides some decent grade garb. Better than what a regular peasant would have, but no where near as good as something of a lord or nobles cloth. |
3,612 | 81 | 85 | 1,583 | 2,241 | There was nothing left for a bard to do but play and sing- and so he did.
The needles that landed on her body were absorbed into the aura, as if melted almost. As the savager landed on her and made moves to stab her in the head, her 7 tails snaked around the body of the savager and grabbed his arms and legs. Slamming it into the ground, she turned and used her clawed hands, picked him up and slammed into the ground once more. It bouncing off the ground from the force that Seloria threw it down with, she used her arms and hammer punched it dead the face, not knowing that it could possible kill the thing, but with enough force that it could break anything and everything under the masked face.
Seloria jumped back and was low to the ground, waiting to react if the Savager got up from the devastating blows to the head and body.
While Ealdwine's music filled the room, violet brightness burst throughout the tavern, and the Salvager's limp body was flung and crashed and crushed by whipping energy.
All around the tavern, the walls shook and the beams cracked. Everything left standing toppled over; the floor was a mess of sticky foam and shards of wood; The mounted troll's head had fallen into the hearth, burning and scattering fiery wood pieces; the air was filled with smoke and dust and a potent stench of burning flesh, rotten intestines, spilled beer and vomit.
The Salvager lay twitching in a puddle of ale on the floor. Its mask had been crushed like an egg, and dark foul goop seeped out from beneath it. The Salvager's ale-soaked fingers scrabbled against the floor, and its legs shifted and feet spasmed every few moments like a crushed spider, but it would not stand up again.
The Needle Salvager is Crushed
She swung her solo hammer round, smashing a stool or two, before lunging forward and thoughtlessly wrapping her strong jaw round it's throat, ripping away cloth and deteriorating flesh along with a handful of spine.
It took her a few seconds for the taste to sink in. Vile. Just vile. Ew. Ew. EWW!!!!! Gagging violently, her stomach rebelled, causing her to spew out a spray of rotten, saliva-slathered, hunks of stinky flesh.
The Scimitar Salvager rocked on its feet, unsteady and dripping dark rotten slime from the gaping muzzle-shaped hole in its neck. Its faceless masked head, with nothing left to support it, flopped and twisted grotesquely behind its shoulder. And yet it did not fall.
The Salvager raised the scimitar and slashed mechanically at the gagging werewolf, but the blade was only caught in the thick fur. Its fingers flexed and shuddered, and it wavered uselessly while black goop soaked its once-pristine robes.
It dropped Milo to the floor with a thump. Soon afterward, the Salvager collapsed in a heap at the base of the smoking hearth; its scimitar clattered to the floor. Even afterward, the Salvager's wrecked body continued to shift and struggle and gurgle in a puddle of ale and its own rotten flesh.
The Scimitar Salvager Has Been Decommissioned
Dirion his hand on Wink's shoulder and whispered to her, "Stay down" He stood up from the glass covered floor and began to inspect the man. He was paler than Dirion had ever seen him, and there was that same dead, grey fog in his eyes. Normally Busker had some sort of expression on his face, whether it was a scowl at some argument or a grin at the idea of profit, but now the muscles in his face just sat slack, emotionless.
Dr. Vickers wasn't sure of what to make of the scene inside, apparently some sort of ruckus was going on. Deciding not to worry too much, he skirted around the room, along the walls, only occasionally asking someone to move out of the way.
"Excuse me. Pardon me, miss. Ah, no sir, this is my pig, you cannot play with him."
He made his way to where he could get a drink.
"One Ale and one slop for my friend, thank you."
"no... No nonono no no. No! Hey! Hey~ buddy, look at me. Can you hear me? Can you hear-can you see your daughter, Wink over there? What's wrong? Eh? Well, whatever it is, we'll fix it ok? We'll get you patched up and running the tavern again in no time. Just sit down here and rest up ok? Leave things to your old pal Gharly...c..."
"Busker. Where are you going?"
It was quite the scene that Henri had walked into.
A seven-foot werewolf stood heaving and gagging by the hearth, next to the twitching, rotten remains of two white-robed figures and the small mummy-wrapped form of a child.
The walls were vibrating and the air was swirling around the glowing violet energy of a many-tailed fox, which stood over another crushed rotten corpse.
There was a gaping hole in the wall beside the bar, letting in the cool night air; the wall was beginning to buckle, and the beams in the ceiling were creaking with strain.
Several foreign objects had fallen into the hearth and were letting off thick black smoke; burning pieces of wood were scattered on the floor and surrounding splintered tables and chairs. Not a single piece of furniture was left unbroken.
The entire room reeked of rotten meat, burning flesh, sick and vinegar and spilled putrid ale, and a romping song was played and sung by the bard sitting injured on the sticky floor.
But the doctor and his pig managed to find the only stool left standing at the bar, and with a pleasant voice raised over Ealdwine's song, requested the attention of the barkeep.
Busker shifted on his feet. His eyes were gray and dead, and his clothes and the side of his face were soaked and shining with blood. With shuffling feet, the owner of the Bawdy Dog walked along behind the bar, stepping over Pallas and Edward. With a pale hand, Busker grabbed a tankard from the bar, the same one that Dirion had been drinking from previously before Edward's weapon had shot holes into it. Mechanically, he filled the tankard at the ale barrel and set it down with a wet splash in front of Henri. The ale leaked quickly out of the tankard and pooled on the bar.
Busker stood quietly staring into nothingness, the blood drying on his clothes.
Wink, meanwhile, took in a shaking breath and stood, holding onto Dirion for support. She, too, was covered in ale and her father's blood; the breeze from the hole in the wall dried the tears on her face, and she was no longer crying.
Although, as he pouted at his misfortune, the heat from his filthy palm was allowed to coax the tiny residue from the bottle's sides and a single drop was able to form in the bottom rim. Immediately, his attention was back on the bar and so was a new grin--a wicked, toothy, and crooked grin full of elation with a dangerous game playing in his mind. Without another thought, the insane demon threw the bottle into his mouth and shattered the thing in one mighty chomp--the bitter sting of the potion and blood exciting his tongue and body.
Goodbye, Jargo the Luck Demon and, hello, Jargo the Flesh Eater.
The elixir -- at such a low dosage to someone who was not at all on the brink of death -- had a very different effect on Jargo than it had on Busker and Milo.
The Luck Demon's eyes turned a shade of gray, and his bloody mouth stretched into a red wolfish grin. Whatever humanity had been in him before was gone, replaced with something altogether dangerous and wicked.
Jargo -- or, rather, the thing that had once been Jargo -- sprang off the table and launched off the bar with an animal hiss and wide-jawed breath. He dashed out of the hole in the wall and into the night, off to track down his new master.
An Eerie Quiet Returns to the Bawdy Dog | Yer parents 're dead, yer house burned down and yer dog was kicked off a cliff. Revenge is a perfectly healthy way to cope, I think. How 'bout a refill on that ale?
Well, this development was slightly unexpected . . .
CHARACTER SHEET
ꝿ NAME: (the name of your character)
ꝿ RELATIONSHIP WITH : (Pick a Relationship and someone else's character)
Siblings
Unrequited lovers
Spouses in an arranged marriage
Linked by blood ritual
Assassin/target
Rescuer/rescuee
Employer/henchman
Former cellmates
Bounty hunter/bounty
Creator/golem
Sorceror/apprentice
Diabolist/intended sacrificial victim
Werewolf/hunter
Same non-human race
Members of the same religion or guild
Longtime adventuring companions
Drinking buddies
Reluctant allies
Vicious scoundrel/pacifist healer
You each have a scar the other gave you
"You killed my father"
ꝿ NEED: (your character's major goal)
To be a hero
...by defending the little guy
...to that one special person
...so you can lord over everybody else
...in the public's eyes, even if you really aren't
To crush your enemies
...because they ruined your life
...and enslave them
...and they're all enemies
...just to get a moment's peace
To amass a hoard
...by killing every monster you see
...through shady dealings
...of forbidden lore
...to fund a private army
To fly
...with everybody else's treasure
...after one last quest
...before they realize who you really work for
...literally, using a spell or maybe a catapult
To rule
...by marrying a royal heir
...on a throne of your enemies' skulls
...an army of undead
...and impose your type of justice
To overindulge
...with wenches
...in drink
...in rampant thievery
...in forbidden rituals
...in bloodshed
...in tavern brawls
ꝿ OBJECT: (a nifty thing your character possesses)
Weapons
Flaming sword (sword of cataclysmic combustion)
Poisoned dagger (dirk of vicious viper's venom)
Big-ass iron warhammer
Ancient elven bow
Dragonbane blade (broadsword of scaly slaughter)
Catapult
Soul-stealing scepter (scepter of severed souls)
Sentient spear (longspear of wise council)
Cursed blade (cutlass of cruel calamity)
Seeking arrow (arrow of absolutely accurate archery)
Betrayer's axe (greataxe of pliant perfidy)
Staff of resurrection with one charge left
Spells
Enchanting Charm
Transformative Polymorph
Spectral Ward
Demonic Summoning
Trapping Paralysis
Exploding Lightning
Magic Items
Invisibility cloak
Crystal ball of future sight
Crown of fearlessness
Mystery potion (nobody knows what it does)
Impervious chain shirt
Trophies
Mounted troll's head
Genie bottle
Dragon's flame sac
Tome of dark rituals
Gold ring on a mummy's severed finger
Massive pile of gold coins
Sentimental
Strange charm left with a foundling
Invitation to a prestigious order
Statue of a deity (with a hidden compartment)
Old ally polymorphed into a toad
Royal lady's garter
ꝿ DETAILS: (anything and everything you're inspired to write here)
NON-PLAYER CHARACTERS
ꝿ NAME: Busker
ꝿ RELATIONSHIP WITH WINK: Busker's the owner of this fine establishment and Wink is his daughter and most incompetent employee.
ꝿ RELATIONSHIP WITH FATE: Fate is another of Busker's employees, whom he hired when Wink demanded help with the heavy lifting. Usually Fate so good at her job that Busker forgets she works there, but some nights he hides under the bar while she flies into a rage at the patrons.
ꝿ RELATIONSHIP WITH GHARLYC: Busker and Gharlyc go way back, when Busker was young and Gharlyc was still an endearingly heartless bastard. He cherishes memories of drunken stories and exploits of cruelty and power. He credits Gharlyc for teaching him the value of self-preservation and of using others to get what he wants.
ꝿ NEEDS: To wring as much money out of his drunken patrons as possible.
ꝿ OBJECT: Mounted troll's head hanging proudly over the hearth.
ꝿ DETAILS: Busker is middle-aged and balding, with a wide girth and a toadlike nose. He stands behind the bar most nights, listening to rambling stories and adding up tabs. He's quick with a compliment and a smile that never quite reaches his beady eyes.
BUSKER IS DEAD. Sort of. He walks around all right, and some part of his mind still recognizes Wink as his daughter, and he's not murderous at all. At least not yet. But he is definitely dead.
ꝿ NAME: Wink
ꝿ RELATIONSHIP WITH BUSKER: Wink is Busker's daughter. She's also the one who runs this dump, despite what Busker may claim.
ꝿ RELATIONSHIP WITH FATE: Wink and Fate both work at the Bawdy Dog; although technically they both equally work for Busker, Wink does not hesitate to order Fate to take care of the less savory chores. Despite this, Wink considers Fate as a friend and defends her unconditionally.
ꝿ NEEDS: To win the favor of a rich nobleman and run away with him.
ꝿ OBJECT: A rabbit's foot in her pocket.
ꝿ DETAILS: Wink isn't the prettiest in town, but she keeps her hair neat and her corset tight. She can be flirtatious one moment and coolly authoritative the next, especially when the tavern's well-being is threatened.
Wink is Busker's daughter. Right now her priority is to survive, and to make sure Busker doesn't hurt anyone. |
3,613 | 81 | 86 | 2,532 | 122 | Gharlyc immediately heard the tone in Dirion's voice and gave him a cold hard stare. Gharlyc's voice dropped dropped in volume and became very smooth and eerily calm.
"Stranger. It's no excuse now, but I thought it was a healing potion. I saw the siren drink it and heal from her wounds. My only thought at the time was to save Busker's life. Now, who knows what horrible fate I have cursed my best and only friend with. So, maybe instead of pointing fingers, you can be useful and help me think if there is a possible cure for this affliction. Can your addled brain handle that hm?"
Turning over to Wink, Gharlyc's hard expression softened a little bit, but not by much.
"Wink, I'm sorry this happened. I know you don't like me, but I love Busker like a brother. I would never purposefully do this to him. You probably won't take much stock in my words, but I promise you, I will not rest until I have found a cure for your father"
Turning and noticing Vickers ordering a drink, Gharlyc addressed him.
"You, stranger with the pig(?!). Things are very dangerous in this bar right now. It may not be the best time for a leisurely drink. If you look, we have injured and people who are cursed with who knows what. For your own safely either hide back here with the rest of us or see if you can leave out the back." | NAME: Gharlyc
RELATIONSHIP WITH BUSKER: Busker and Gharlyc are old drinking buddies. They were pretty good friends, but that was many years ago.
NEED: To crush his enemies just to get a moment's peace.
OBJECT: Poisoned dagger
DETAILS: With a wide nose and perpetual bad breath, this middle aged dwarf is constantly looking around his shoulders with his large, almost lidless and bulging eyes. He has dark brown hair with silver streaks at the temples (too soon for his age). A shorter than average dwarf, Gharlyc fought his way through life by being faster and nastier than everyone else. Busker was Gharlyc's only friend. Has been away from town for 7 years, only to return just recently. |
3,614 | 81 | 87 | 1,690 | 313 | Stranger. It's no excuse now, but I thought it was a healing potion. I saw the siren drink it and heal her wounds. My only thought at the time was to save Busker's life. Now, who knows what horrible fate I have cursed my best and only friend with. So, maybe instead of pointing fingers, you can be useful and help me think if there is a possible cure for this affliction. Can your addled brain handle that hm?
Oh, the little man had the gall to get snippy with Dirion. When it was the man that had poisoned poor Busker, not Dirion. Addled brain eh? Dirion would love to addle that little Dwarfs brain right about now. Dirion clutched his hands into fists and contemplated the benefits of toppling the man. He doubted he would be able to do much to harm him, what with the height advantage.
But no, instead Dirion just spoke through a tight frown, "Very well."
The dwarf then spoke to Wink but Dirion did not bother to listen. Though he saw the man sitting at the bar his attention instead was taken up by the scene before him. He had turned around to look at the damage and- well it was bad.
The fire in the hearth was roaring, and it had managed to light some of the surrounding debris alight also. No matter how hard he looked Dirion could not find one intact piece of Busker's cheep splintery furniture. All around were spilled tankards, pouring out watery ale all over the cracked floor. There was even one shattered bottle a few feet away from the bar that was leaking a pink liquid. Wine? Dirion hadn't known Busker to serve it.
There was a hole in the wall. An actual hole in the wall. Through it he could see the rays of the moon shining through, and Dirion questioned how long he had been in the bar. It had been light when he came in. The rest of the the building that wasn't riddled with holes was shaking far more than it should.
He saw what used to be Fate, at least he was pretty sure that was Fate. Last he had seen her she was a deformed, hairy, howling monster that was about to cave his head in with some hammers. It would probably make sense that she was a werewolf. She was gagging and snarling at the moment. Whatever it took to keep her distracted. Dirion hoped that she would calm down soon.
And then his eyes landed on something nearly indescribable. It was more than likely magic, most things of said indescribably were usually magic. It was a large form, a violet aura. Dirion just now realized that all the air seemed to be drawn to it. Smoke from the fire had also started to swirl around the form. He breathed, and felt it was slightly harder to do so than it should be. Faintly he thought he could see some sort of human body within it.
Now that Dirion was paying attention to his senses he suddenly smelt, well, everything. The smell of rotting flesh, of wet fur, of bile and spilled ale, smoke from the fire. All being nicely circulated by the shifting of air from the aura.
Then came the song. A strong beat accompanied by a foreign language Dirion had never learned. Startled and unsure if he was hearing the chant of some dark magic his eyes moved at twice the speed to scan the crumbling bar. A corpse, another corpse, a corpse with it's head cut off, a corpse with a lute- wait. It was the bard. The real bard. And he was playing? At a time like this!
All of this? How? A few hours ago Dirion had walked into this bar and everything was fine. Now people were dying or dead, the entire building was falling around their ears, a girl's father was dead... And as far as Dirion could tell it may be his fault. It was just a knife! How does a knife turn into a bar fight of this proportion?! Dirion felt like he may throw up.
He leaned on the bar and rested his head in his hands. The strumming of the bard, the rumbling of the building, the crackling of the fire eating up Wink's possessions, Fate snarling and growling to herself. It overwhelmed Dirion. He felt a fiery anger light in his chest. He grabbed the edge of the bar and tried to exert his anger into the cheap wood. But after a few seconds of trying Dirion gave up and jerked his hands back. He looked out unto the rest of the tavern and yelled at anyone that would listen, "Quiet!"
"Someone put out that fire and help get the injured out of here! This place is going to fall on us, and we are going to die!! | ꝿ NAME: Dirion Seryn
ꝿ RELATIONSHIP WITH BUSKER: Dirion has been bumming around The Bawdy Dog for around a week and a half. During this time he has become somewhat of a regular. More to the point, he has grown quite the tab. Half due to his new drinking problem and half because of Busker's "business" practices. Dirion now only has enough to pay for half the tab. Dirion holds a strong disdain for Busker because of the hole he put him in.
ꝿ RELATIONSHIP WITH PALLAS: Dirion has picked up chatter over time in the Dog (Read: Just a second ago/right before she walked in.) That Pallas is a bounty hunter. Now normally an innocent man has nothing to fear from a bounty hunter. But sadly this is not a normal kind of time. For all Dirion knows there is a sizable bounty on him just waiting to be plucked up... He was have to be careful around her.
ꝿ NEEDS: To find and crush his enemies because they destroyed his life.
ꝿ OBJECT: His and Brigen's rings.
ꝿ DETAILS: Dirion was raised by a sellsword named Victor starting at the age of eleven. This is because he was forced to leave his home due to unfortunate circumstances. During his time he was taught how to fight along moving without a sound and ehm.. Cajoling women. Much to his now distaste. Eventually Victor died and Dirion went out on his own. Soon finding... Her.
Dirion fell in love with the daughter of a noble that ruled over a nearby city. Her name was Brigen. The father didn't approve but they were planning to get married one way or another. After fighting with the Father over their marriage for a long time Dirion and Brigen argeed to elope. The night they planned to leave Dirion went to Brigen's bedroom to find her dead, strangled. By who he didn't know. A second later guards burst into her room and arrested Dirion for Brigen's murder. He managed to escape on his way to execution. Not soon after fleeing the city.
Now Dirion stews in The Bawdy Dog all day. He plans to soon launch an investigation to find who killed his love. Once he gets enough coin to hire some help. And.... And maybe after just one more bottle..
Dirion's hair is long and his features thin and sharp. While his haired is naturally blond he died it grey to disguise as an old man to help him flee the city. He did not take into account how hard the blasted dye would be to get out once he had gotten it in. While you can see fringes of blond hairs starting to poke out from the roots the majority of his hair is still grey. He covers himself in a bland brown cloak. Underneath hides some decent grade garb. Better than what a regular peasant would have, but no where near as good as something of a lord or nobles cloth. |
3,615 | 81 | 88 | 2,188 | 1,106 | ………………………… blargh, blergh, gahhhhhhh She could not think, not see, just taste, taste the vile, sickening, sickening flesh.
The Scavenger could have lopped off her arms, legs and tail, and she wouldn't have noticed, let alone cared. Anything, anything to get rid of the stench and taste. She was covered in it, her muzzle caked three inches thick. She couldn't hold it anymore, her eye flickered between violent yellow and tranquil aqua, her beast side seizing control and letting it slip through it's claws. Spitting, Fate finally yanked the driving reins back, her eyes settling as blue. Focusing she kicked her beast side out, ripping the scimitar out of her fur with a growl. Having glanced round at the shambles that was once the tavern, she carefully crouched down, letting go of her hammers she reached a single claw out, slicing though the wrappings around the girl lying on the ground.
"Quiet! Someone put out that fire and help get the injured out of here! This place is going to fall on us, and we are going to die!!
Fire? What? ………Holy crap! She snarled, noting the fire licking up to her feet. …Really? How had she missed that?
Grabbing Milo she flipped her up on one shoulder, snagging both hammers with her other paw and kicking the mangled body into the fire. There was no stopping it anyway, no matter what that drunkard said, once a fire got that big, it was going to consume everything it could, without pity. It would take more than the people here to quench it, might as well get rid of some trash while it was at it. Flicking the second body in alongside the first Fate spun away from the blaze, working her way around the edge of the room to the bar, avoiding the purple swirling mass in the middle. Pausing in front of Diron, she carefully spilled out coarse badly pronounced words, "Shhooo…… whsaathsss…… nknaaaaeeeesss ………ooooinnnnngg?" (So what needs doing?) | I can't seem to work out/decide on a Need, so for now, if that's alright, Fate just has a temporary goal, she will probably chose a real goal eventually.
NAME: Fate
RELATIONSHIP WITH WINK AND BUSKER: Fate works and lives at The Bawdy Dog, thanks to Wink’s not so soft heart, and constant requirement for an extra pair of working hands.
NEED: She’s not quite sure yet, for the most part however her short time goal is indulging in brawls.
She reckons she’ll wing it for now, and find something uh… bigger to occupy her time, hopefully fairly soon.
OBJECT:
DETAILS: Fate is a 16 year old Werewolf, able to shift at will, although the further from full moon it is, the harder and more painful it gets. New moon leaves her weak, and full moon induces a blood rage. The closer to full moon it is, the more violent she gets. Even in human form she is stronger than she looks, with stronger scenes, although there is the down side of sharing the same almost colorblindness as a normal wolf, all the time. Her eye is damaged, clawed scares sweeping through, and she suffers from a lack of depth perception.
This slightly impairs her fighting, as she can't judge the distance, this however she remedies by getting "up-close-and-personal" smashing them with either her fists or hammers. She keeps her fighting out of the tavern, most of the time. For 'blood moons' as she calls them, Fate disappears into the nearby woods, in the hope of lessening the number of humans she mauls, rather hunting game. |
3,616 | 81 | 89 | 1,201 | 1,278 | Pallas began to stir, her body had healed significantly thanks to Seloria. She woke up to see the tavern had gone through a lot. She pulled herself up and looked around. She had expected her body to ache everywhere, but to her surprise, she felt perfectly fine, better than fine actually. Though she was unsure what was going on or what she had missed while she was passed out. But she did know that Seloria had saved her, as well as Edward and another kind stranger that she must express her gratitude for. Taking Gharlyc's hands, she said to him, "Thank you so much for taking me to shelter when I was unable to." And then she turned to Edward and pulled him into a hug. "I'm glad we both survived that."
She quickly stepped back and began to search for Seloria, her old friend. Scavenging through the rummages, she called out for her, "Seloria? Seloria?" | Name: Pallas
Relationship with Milo: Pallas is a bounty hunter, with Milo as her bounty. There is a high price for Milo's head as she is known for the suffering she has brought onto others.
Relationship with 's character/Seloria: Bounded together since she was young, Seloria is a protector, teacher, and important friend to Pallas.
Relationship with Edward: He hit on her one day in another tavern, which she mistakenly taken as him being friendly. They still get along with each other though and Pallas likes to think they are friends.
Needs: To be a hero by defeating all the horrible monsters that harm the innocent and poor.
Object: Dragonbane Blade
Detail: Pallas is young, new bounty hunter who is quickly going up the ranks. As soon as she turned 18, she took the Dragonbane blade her late father used during his adventuring days, and began her journey. Despite the reputation that bounty hunters have, she actually isn't in it for the money. She, of course, accepts payments for her kills, but just enough for her to survive. So far, she has only been doing smaller jobs, but hopes to one day rid the world of villains, one slash of her sword at a time. |
3,617 | 81 | 90 | 1,583 | 2,241 | Wink, I'm sorry this happened. I know you don't like me, but I love Busker like a brother. I would never purposefully do this to him. You probably won't take much stock in my words, but I promise you, I will not rest until I have found a cure for your father
Wink's expression shifted from something like hate to something like resignation, and everything in-between. A part of her wished her father had simply died of his injury. This fate that had been so negligently forced upon him was so much worse than death. She looked almost worse than Busker did -- covered in blood and soot and beer and wood dust, her hair in flyaway scraggles. She stared at Gharlyc with an unreadable glare. She in no way believed there was a cure, except to cut off her father's head and burn the body, but she wasn't about to stop the dwarf from doing what he wished.
"Someone put out that fire and help get the injured out of here! This place is going to fall on us, and we are going to die!!"
Grabbing Milo she flipped her up on one shoulder, snagging both hammers with her other paw and kicking the mangled body into the fire. Flicking the second body in alongside the first Fate spun away from the blaze, working her way around the edge of the room to the bar.
She turned to Edward and pulled him into a hug. "I'm glad we both survived that." She quickly stepped back and began to search for Seloria, her old friend. Scavenging through the rummages, she called out for her, "Seloria? Seloria?"
As the two Salvager corpses burned, the growing inferno roared and popped and turned sick bruised shades of green and yellow. Billows of black smoke filled the room with thick ash and an overpowering, nauseating stench.
Fire snaked up the weakened walls. The beams in the ceiling snapped and cracked audibly; dust and bits of wood and a few loosened nails rained down on their heads as the whole building creaked and groaned all around them. Soon, there was nothing to see but fiery glowing smoke and dust.
Wink covered her nose and mouth with both hands as toxic smoke scraped her throat and burned in her lungs; she grabbed the bar, gagging and trembling; she could no longer see Gharlyc -- or anything at all -- through the thick billowing smoke. Wink dropped to her hands and knees and crawled along the beer-sticky floor, desperately trying not to vomit at the stench that permeated the room, praying to whatever gods would listen that the fire wasn't coming closer.
The wall with the hole in it finally buckled, but the smoke was too thick to see what was happening. There was a great cracking and crashing above; the fire surged brightly; the smoke swirled; everywhere there was the sound of coughing and stumbling and cracking and splintering. Wink blindly groped her way along the floor, tears streaming from her burning eyes -- and then, just as she began to lose consciousness, she felt herself being lifted up.
Busker laid Wink in the grass outside, then trundled back into the collapsing, burning tavern. Busker -- blind and no longer breathing -- stepped through the debris and stopped beside Pallas. He bent down, wrapped a strong arm around her waist, and carried her through the thick smoke and raining dust; at the same time he dragged Edward behind him by the arm. He took them both through the door and into the open air where he deposited them in the grass beside Wink, who was blackened with soot and coughing raggedly on the ground.
In another five seconds, the roof cracked and crumbled; the Bawdy Dog Tavern collapsed into a burning, smoking heap of splintered wood. The flames soon engulfed it all and blazed brightly throughout the wreckage.
Down the night-dark road, people were screaming. A fiery flickering glow reflected on the trees that separated the tavern from the town.
The entire town was on fire.
There were more Salvagers. Many more. They had swarmed the town, sacked everything dangerous or valuable, and killed every living soul.
Corpses littered the street. They also walked, bloody and broken, toward the tavern.
Around the side of the burning tavern, horses screeched and whinnied in the stable.
There was an empty cart sitting near the road.
A dozen walking corpses -- once familiar faces of the town -- crowded on the road in front of the tavern, their staring eyes vacant and their bloody mouths gaping. In less than a minute they would descend upon those who had escaped the Bawdy Dog.
On the opposite end of the road -- at the top of a hill, silhouetted by the setting moon -- stood Jargo. His sharp grin flashed white, and he scampered off into the wilderness. | Yer parents 're dead, yer house burned down and yer dog was kicked off a cliff. Revenge is a perfectly healthy way to cope, I think. How 'bout a refill on that ale?
Well, this development was slightly unexpected . . .
CHARACTER SHEET
ꝿ NAME: (the name of your character)
ꝿ RELATIONSHIP WITH : (Pick a Relationship and someone else's character)
Siblings
Unrequited lovers
Spouses in an arranged marriage
Linked by blood ritual
Assassin/target
Rescuer/rescuee
Employer/henchman
Former cellmates
Bounty hunter/bounty
Creator/golem
Sorceror/apprentice
Diabolist/intended sacrificial victim
Werewolf/hunter
Same non-human race
Members of the same religion or guild
Longtime adventuring companions
Drinking buddies
Reluctant allies
Vicious scoundrel/pacifist healer
You each have a scar the other gave you
"You killed my father"
ꝿ NEED: (your character's major goal)
To be a hero
...by defending the little guy
...to that one special person
...so you can lord over everybody else
...in the public's eyes, even if you really aren't
To crush your enemies
...because they ruined your life
...and enslave them
...and they're all enemies
...just to get a moment's peace
To amass a hoard
...by killing every monster you see
...through shady dealings
...of forbidden lore
...to fund a private army
To fly
...with everybody else's treasure
...after one last quest
...before they realize who you really work for
...literally, using a spell or maybe a catapult
To rule
...by marrying a royal heir
...on a throne of your enemies' skulls
...an army of undead
...and impose your type of justice
To overindulge
...with wenches
...in drink
...in rampant thievery
...in forbidden rituals
...in bloodshed
...in tavern brawls
ꝿ OBJECT: (a nifty thing your character possesses)
Weapons
Flaming sword (sword of cataclysmic combustion)
Poisoned dagger (dirk of vicious viper's venom)
Big-ass iron warhammer
Ancient elven bow
Dragonbane blade (broadsword of scaly slaughter)
Catapult
Soul-stealing scepter (scepter of severed souls)
Sentient spear (longspear of wise council)
Cursed blade (cutlass of cruel calamity)
Seeking arrow (arrow of absolutely accurate archery)
Betrayer's axe (greataxe of pliant perfidy)
Staff of resurrection with one charge left
Spells
Enchanting Charm
Transformative Polymorph
Spectral Ward
Demonic Summoning
Trapping Paralysis
Exploding Lightning
Magic Items
Invisibility cloak
Crystal ball of future sight
Crown of fearlessness
Mystery potion (nobody knows what it does)
Impervious chain shirt
Trophies
Mounted troll's head
Genie bottle
Dragon's flame sac
Tome of dark rituals
Gold ring on a mummy's severed finger
Massive pile of gold coins
Sentimental
Strange charm left with a foundling
Invitation to a prestigious order
Statue of a deity (with a hidden compartment)
Old ally polymorphed into a toad
Royal lady's garter
ꝿ DETAILS: (anything and everything you're inspired to write here)
NON-PLAYER CHARACTERS
ꝿ NAME: Busker
ꝿ RELATIONSHIP WITH WINK: Busker's the owner of this fine establishment and Wink is his daughter and most incompetent employee.
ꝿ RELATIONSHIP WITH FATE: Fate is another of Busker's employees, whom he hired when Wink demanded help with the heavy lifting. Usually Fate so good at her job that Busker forgets she works there, but some nights he hides under the bar while she flies into a rage at the patrons.
ꝿ RELATIONSHIP WITH GHARLYC: Busker and Gharlyc go way back, when Busker was young and Gharlyc was still an endearingly heartless bastard. He cherishes memories of drunken stories and exploits of cruelty and power. He credits Gharlyc for teaching him the value of self-preservation and of using others to get what he wants.
ꝿ NEEDS: To wring as much money out of his drunken patrons as possible.
ꝿ OBJECT: Mounted troll's head hanging proudly over the hearth.
ꝿ DETAILS: Busker is middle-aged and balding, with a wide girth and a toadlike nose. He stands behind the bar most nights, listening to rambling stories and adding up tabs. He's quick with a compliment and a smile that never quite reaches his beady eyes.
BUSKER IS DEAD. Sort of. He walks around all right, and some part of his mind still recognizes Wink as his daughter, and he's not murderous at all. At least not yet. But he is definitely dead.
ꝿ NAME: Wink
ꝿ RELATIONSHIP WITH BUSKER: Wink is Busker's daughter. She's also the one who runs this dump, despite what Busker may claim.
ꝿ RELATIONSHIP WITH FATE: Wink and Fate both work at the Bawdy Dog; although technically they both equally work for Busker, Wink does not hesitate to order Fate to take care of the less savory chores. Despite this, Wink considers Fate as a friend and defends her unconditionally.
ꝿ NEEDS: To win the favor of a rich nobleman and run away with him.
ꝿ OBJECT: A rabbit's foot in her pocket.
ꝿ DETAILS: Wink isn't the prettiest in town, but she keeps her hair neat and her corset tight. She can be flirtatious one moment and coolly authoritative the next, especially when the tavern's well-being is threatened.
Wink is Busker's daughter. Right now her priority is to survive, and to make sure Busker doesn't hurt anyone. |
3,618 | 81 | 91 | 2,355 | 1,138 | Bloody 'ell, Pelgrum muttered, as his former wife fell backwards with the fire poker jammed in her eye. "That was a bit unexpected."
He'd been awake for around five minutes, having slept through the day with a heavy cloud of wine overhanging his senses. His wife had been the one to stir him from his sleep, but as he opened his eyes, he saw that half of her face was missing. Pelgrum never liked her much as she was a nagging wench on her best day, and as she tried to chomp his face, he finally lived out a fantasy he'd been hiding for years: he killed her!
Now, standing over her lifeless corpse, breathing heavy and perspiring, Pelgrum decided it was time to find out what on earth was happening. People were screaming outside of his rather snug stone-build "manor" (a small house with a sign outside it, prescribing it as a manor, in anycase), fire light was blaring through the windows, and somewhere amidst the crackle of flame, he heard some ungodly noises.
He moved over to a window at the front of the house, pulled back the curtain, allowed his eyes to go so wide that they almost fell from his head, and promptly took a step back. His next port of call was the liqueur cabinet, where he indulged in a neat bottle of Eastern Brandy for a good few minutes before retiring to the back room.
The back room, as Pelgrum called it, was more a museum or a rich man's show boating establishment. Precious artefacts, signed historical documents, gemstones - all the like - were neatly encased in glass cabinets. Pelgrum wasn't interested in monetary worth today though, he was more interested in surviving the next couple of hours. The brandy taking over his brain told him that whatever was going on outside, needed a bigger than life solution.
He approached a mound covered by a dusty table cloth, and appraised it with a nodding grin. Quickly, he pulled back the cover, revealing his pride possession: Teardrinker, the Destroyer of Orphanages, and a mighty damn fine catapult. Ideally two man-operated, but made from solid oak and encased in durasteel. Its mechanism was of Elven design, and the whole thing was easy to move thanks to its pedal-propulsion device. Two hard wooden seats were located at the weapon's rear either side of the bucket.
Steering it and loading it was another matter, but he'd deal with that when the time came.
"Yup," Pelgrum said, with a burp. "This oughta do it." | Name: Pelgrum Fitch
Relationship With Busk: Money Lender; Pelgrum is a money lender and a lawyer all in one, and it was he who provided Busk with the funds to make expensive maintenance repairs to the Bawdy Dog over the years - especially the time the thatch got torn off by a hapless wizardry apprentice trying to impress Wink.
To Over Indulge In: Wenches, Drink, Money.
Object: Teardrinker Catapult, used by a Far Eastern warlord to tear down orphanages.
Details: Pelgrum is a man of excess, that's pretty much all there is to it. |
3,619 | 81 | 92 | 1,737 | 380 | Rucks had just returned from one of his forays into some far off ruins, he was actually having a pleasant day, despite not managing to find anything. As he coiled around trails and over hills he eventually saw a pillar of smoke coming from the direction of the town. He hoped it was nothing terribly large. As he neared the tavern where he usually stopped by for a drink he found out that this was not the case at all. Plumes of the dark smoke were billowing out of the building.
Rucks stood there, head tilted to one side as he watched the events, the barman - Busker - was carrying people out of the flames. At least Rucks THOUGHT it was Busker, he was too far away to be certain, but there was something slightly off about him, as he finally neared the building, only one thought crossed his mind, "Where in hell am I going to get my drinks now?".
He wasn't particularly bothered about the actual town being on fire, he rarely stayed in his apartment anyway and he was smart enough to keep the knowledge he has amassed somewhere else, in a semi-secret cave that he decided to dig out for them.
But no seriously, where was he going to get his drinks now? | ꝿ NAME: Dr. Henri Vickers V
ꝿ RELATIONSHIP WITH BUSKER: Stumbled into Buskers little business one rainy Tuesday when Henri had accidentally turned a little girls tabby cat into a vicious cat-like fiend with claws long than the good Doctors own hands. Suffice to say, Henri needed a drink that day.
ꝿ NEEDS: To find the scientific formula resulting in the most perfectly buttered toast. Curing people of their ailments and other doctor type stuff is quite rewarding too... I guess.
ꝿ OBJECT: In one of his deepest pockets is a jar containing the severed hand of a former lover..
ꝿ DETAILS: Medium length, black, shaggy, unkempt hair that sticks out in every direction. White porcelain skin. A pair of green tinted goggles to protect his eyes from the 'glare'. He stands at just a little over 6 foot and has a some what athletic frame as "those escaped experiments won't catch themselves". His white lab coat looks almost new around the collar and shoulders, but becomes increasingly more dirty due to unknown substance stains and dirt toward the bottom, with the lower half of the coat mostly torn up and ripped. Under his coat he wears a black turtle-necked jumper accompanied by a pair of faded blue jeans. On his feat are some out of place black trainers, streaked with green.
His mother, the 'shrink', always said he was insane. 3 years of Jerry Jones' Amazing Psychiatry School for the Gifted sure showed her when he passed with flying colours.
He lives in an underground basement conducting his research. He isn't called the 5th because of his lineage. |
3,620 | 81 | 93 | 1,690 | 313 | Dirion was standing bewildered at the sight of Fate's speedy transformation. Well he was, now he couldn't see much of anything. Sickening smoke had descended upon him and the bar before he could react. Perhaps the funnel of air caused by the purple magic? Who knows. Letting out a hard gasp and cough Dirion covered his mouth and nose in the crook of his arm. When Dirion ceased coughing for a moment he heard the gags of the other patrons. One caught his ears more than the other's, a more feminine one. If he stopped to think for a moment he would remember that there was more than one woman in the bar. But, the first conclusion he jumped to was the lady he heard was Wink. And banish him to the darkest depths of hell if she died too from this mess.
Dirion tried to yell through the smoke, "Wink!" Though the words died halfway through his mouth at the hands of another vicious cough.
He ducked down to the floor to try and escape the smoke. His eyes were stinging and watering, but Dirion tried to look for Wink through his blurred vision. He couldn't take anymore of the smoke though and had to close his eyes tight. He then started searching frantically with his hand for anyone, anything. He wasn't sure where he was. He had been crawling for a bit and felt lost. His hand felt the touch of skin and grabbed on. He realized that the person was moving and stood up to a crouch and followed, still blind from the smoke.
Dirion felt like he may pass out soon, his lungs ached and hurt and all he could smell was the putrid concoction of smoke. As he started to grow weaker he gave a deep breath and felt fresh air flood his lungs. He savored the breath for as long as he could and opened his eyes. He looked to see the savior he had to thank was- Busker. The Barkeep's skin felt cold and grim. Dirion pulled his arm away from the man quickly and averted his eyes to the woman. To his relief it was Wink.
Dirion sat down in the grass next to Wink and spoke in the middle of a cough, "Wink? Are you okay?" He put his hand on her arm to.. Try and calm her he guessed? Dirion didn't know what to do.
Dirion looked out across the horizon and saw the world on fire. Weeell, that's probably a bit dramatic. But you get the picture. Now that he was breathing and heard something besides the crashing of the Bawdy Dog, which had just collapsed behind him, Dirion heard the far off screams coming from town. What could it be now?
Dirion could see people walking towards him. It was too dark to see who they were but Dirion felt unsettled at the sight of them. They were slow, slower than a snail's pace, and when the world is burning to the sound of screaming anyone that simply walks away should worry you. Either these people were the barbarians that burned down the village, or it was something else, something darker.
Dirion scrambled up as fast as he could from the ash covered grass, though at this point he had used all his energy. He looked around and noticed the more people had gotten out. Another young girl and the noble boy. Dirion felt a glimmer of hope to see that people had made it out, but then he heard Busker's horses whinnying in panic and felt the dread find it's way back into his heart.
They had injured, plus the slow moving Busker. And though he didn't know how Wink felt he was loathe to leave the man in this state. Dirion knotted his hands in his hair and looked around for any answer to their desperate situation. He saw none. He had a sword. He could fight if he needed to, probably wouldn't last long due to the spirits still in his system. But it would give everyone else a chance to get away. Perhaps Busker could help, and maybe the dwarf. Busker still seemed to care for Wink, in a grim way. And the short man seemed like he wanted to prove himself to Wink. That would certainly be one way to do it.
Right before his heart resigned to his death Dirion spotted the cart, their salvation the gods willing. His heart did a skip for joy when he saw it, he knew what they could do.
He yelled to everyone, "We need to get moving! We're still in danger!
He then turned to Wink, the young girl, and the noble. He asked them as gently as he could while his heart was pounding. Though they would certainly hear the panic in his voice. "If you are well please get the horses reigned and ready for a quick cart ride. He then gestured towards their getaway vehicle. Coughing the last of the smoke from his lungs quickly he continued, "I would do it but a- a drunk like me won't be still enough to do it." He finished with a sad smile. He meant for it to be small bit of humor, though he wasn't very convincing.
He was right though, there was no way he would get it done fast enough. But pulling the cart though? That was just pure strength, and with the adrenaline pumping through his body he felt like he could take on anything. Well, besides the advancing group of.. whatever they are.
He ran to the cart and grabbed it like a life-preserver. With a pause he thought that there could be more people buried inside. But he did his best to banish the thought and bury the guilt. Wink and Busker were his priority. He got back to work, and as he started pulling it towards the road he could feel the splinters shooting into his hands. Of course bloody Busker would cheap out on even his transportation.
"Everyone else pull the cart onto the road!" | ꝿ NAME: Dirion Seryn
ꝿ RELATIONSHIP WITH BUSKER: Dirion has been bumming around The Bawdy Dog for around a week and a half. During this time he has become somewhat of a regular. More to the point, he has grown quite the tab. Half due to his new drinking problem and half because of Busker's "business" practices. Dirion now only has enough to pay for half the tab. Dirion holds a strong disdain for Busker because of the hole he put him in.
ꝿ RELATIONSHIP WITH PALLAS: Dirion has picked up chatter over time in the Dog (Read: Just a second ago/right before she walked in.) That Pallas is a bounty hunter. Now normally an innocent man has nothing to fear from a bounty hunter. But sadly this is not a normal kind of time. For all Dirion knows there is a sizable bounty on him just waiting to be plucked up... He was have to be careful around her.
ꝿ NEEDS: To find and crush his enemies because they destroyed his life.
ꝿ OBJECT: His and Brigen's rings.
ꝿ DETAILS: Dirion was raised by a sellsword named Victor starting at the age of eleven. This is because he was forced to leave his home due to unfortunate circumstances. During his time he was taught how to fight along moving without a sound and ehm.. Cajoling women. Much to his now distaste. Eventually Victor died and Dirion went out on his own. Soon finding... Her.
Dirion fell in love with the daughter of a noble that ruled over a nearby city. Her name was Brigen. The father didn't approve but they were planning to get married one way or another. After fighting with the Father over their marriage for a long time Dirion and Brigen argeed to elope. The night they planned to leave Dirion went to Brigen's bedroom to find her dead, strangled. By who he didn't know. A second later guards burst into her room and arrested Dirion for Brigen's murder. He managed to escape on his way to execution. Not soon after fleeing the city.
Now Dirion stews in The Bawdy Dog all day. He plans to soon launch an investigation to find who killed his love. Once he gets enough coin to hire some help. And.... And maybe after just one more bottle..
Dirion's hair is long and his features thin and sharp. While his haired is naturally blond he died it grey to disguise as an old man to help him flee the city. He did not take into account how hard the blasted dye would be to get out once he had gotten it in. While you can see fringes of blond hairs starting to poke out from the roots the majority of his hair is still grey. He covers himself in a bland brown cloak. Underneath hides some decent grade garb. Better than what a regular peasant would have, but no where near as good as something of a lord or nobles cloth. |
3,621 | 81 | 94 | 1,201 | 1,278 | Pallas was still searching for Seloria when all of a sudden she was being carried by Busker out of the tavern. She was about to argue or say something about how she couldn't leave Seloria behind when the tavern fell apart. Her eyes began to water out of sorrow and relief. She was relieved that Busker had saved her life, but she was heartbroken because she was unsure that her beloved teacher would survive such a horrific disaster.
She didn't have time to dwell on that for too long though. There were bigger, more important things to worry about. Salvagers were everywhere and it seemed like there wasn't an end to their numbers. Where were they even coming from?
Pallas was a bit distracted by the chaos but Dirion caught her attention and she obediently began to reign in the horses. It was something she was used to doing, and she got along fairly well with horses. The only difficulty in the task was the restlessness of the horses. The poor creatures were frighten by everything that was going on and it was hard for Pallas to calm them down. Eventually, she managed to calm them down long enough to reign them in and attach them to the cart as soon as they managed to pull it onto the road.
Unsure of what to do now, she waited as Dirion seemed to be taking charge of the situation at the moment. If they needed to slice up some Salvagers, she was ready to do so with her sword. | Name: Pallas
Relationship with Milo: Pallas is a bounty hunter, with Milo as her bounty. There is a high price for Milo's head as she is known for the suffering she has brought onto others.
Relationship with 's character/Seloria: Bounded together since she was young, Seloria is a protector, teacher, and important friend to Pallas.
Relationship with Edward: He hit on her one day in another tavern, which she mistakenly taken as him being friendly. They still get along with each other though and Pallas likes to think they are friends.
Needs: To be a hero by defeating all the horrible monsters that harm the innocent and poor.
Object: Dragonbane Blade
Detail: Pallas is young, new bounty hunter who is quickly going up the ranks. As soon as she turned 18, she took the Dragonbane blade her late father used during his adventuring days, and began her journey. Despite the reputation that bounty hunters have, she actually isn't in it for the money. She, of course, accepts payments for her kills, but just enough for her to survive. So far, she has only been doing smaller jobs, but hopes to one day rid the world of villains, one slash of her sword at a time. |
3,622 | 81 | 95 | 61 | 531 | Seloria felt the place crash onto her after the scavenger had been killed and she lay pinned in the burning abyss.
"Wake up little one..." a voice was found almost like it seemed in front of her. "You cannot die now, I need you to get yourself out of this..." the voice came again, now behind her. "I will help you, but you first need to heed my warning, there will be a point in which you will have to make choices you will not like, but they will need to be done, you will need to be ready to kill once more..." a shiver went down her body and she roared in response "You will say no now...but how long I wonder..." the presence seemed to fade and suddenly the beam over top of her was lifted slightly enough for her to move from under and look around at the blazing ruins. Using her tails, she pushed herself into the air and looked around at the suddenly burning town and zombie like people occupying it as well as Savengers, way to many at that.
Landing in front of the ruined blaze, she felt a sudden drain in her power and she fell to her knees. Her normal human appearance returned and she found her eye patch and blade had returned, as well as her bandages. Moving fast towards the group now leaving, she found Pallas quickly and embraced her "Pallas!" pulling her back, she smiled and patted her head before letting go "Looks like your father was right about the seal, you aren't dying on me yet, remember, you bury me before I bury you" she flicked in the forehead "And think before you attack, making my teachings look bad..." she joked and hugged her again before turning and waiting to hear what was even going on. | ꝿ NAME:
Seloria
Relationship With Pallas:
She's been by Pallas side since the very child was born, in fact she was the person who held her first before handing her to her parents. Pallas's father has made her Pallas's teacher and companion, though when Pallas left, Seloria took it upon herself to follow Pallas and keep an Eye on her without her knowing...until now.
Relationship with Jarko:
The luckiest of the unlucky. Jargo tricked Seloria in a deal she presumed to be to her benefit only to have her eye taken as the demon's prize. Now the Seloria seeks revenge for the wrongs that Jarko did to her.
ꝿ NEED:
To train and teach others in times of great need and sorrow, to make sure her pact with someone is fulfilled
ꝿ OBJECT:
Starbreather's Talon
ꝿ DETAILS:
Seloria as a child was taken by Pallas's father before Pallas was born. At first it seemed he only wanted to take in the child because she was starving and abandoned but she would soon find out what her purpose was really for. For what she didn't know was that Pallas's father was a great warrior, from where they came from he was known as a man of 1,000 cuts. When he picked her up, he wanted an apprentice, one that would be easy to train and easy to mold, so he would need a young mind. A Mind like hers.
After years and years of training, Seloria became a great swordsmen, but at a cost, she could never take a life, her mind would not allow her. And so Pallas's father deemed her be the teacher to his disciples. From then on she become a guard and a teacher. When Pallas was born, Pallas's father put Seloria as her personal companion, to be her teacher. From then on she was always by her side, right until Pallas left. She was ordered to keep an eye on Pallas but to make sure that she wouldn't find out, until now that is.
Personality:
Seloria has a very calming personality much of the time, like that of a mother or a grandmother, because of her experience as both a mother and grandmother. She learned to deal with a lot of problems and bickering and happens to have a very soothing voice that lets people calm down and almost want to sleep. She loves to go through problems with people and act like a mother or therapist giving her opinion on what they should do or say. She is over all the nicest when it comes to those sort of things and she loves helping others a lot. Even if they aren't the nicest she tries her best to help a lot of others with the problem, wether it be physical or mental she does her best to give her knowledge and smile at the person. Even arrancars would find her personality interesting as she wont fight them unless needed and would even help them depending on the task. As long as its not killing Seloria will help with almost, again almost, ever task. Though there are some boundries she will not cross, those involve her body, killing comrades, killing in general, hurting the wrong people. Those are the boundaries she will not cross even if her life is on the line and a sword is at her neck. |
3,623 | 81 | 96 | 1,583 | 2,241 | The screams had stopped. The only sound was the roar of the flames.
The dead townspeople paused at the edge of the trees, the fire glowing behind their gashed silhouettes. There was the baker woman who supplied Busker with fresh pastries -- there was the merchant who often told stories by the hearth -- there was the old fisherman with four sons and three daughters, beloved by the town, now standing bloody and hollow in a haze of night and dark smoke.
They stood still. Waiting.
The horses allowed themselves to be calmed and hitched by Pallas, and while she and Dirion clambered into the rickety cart, something moved in the rubble.
Edward stood calm among the wreckage -- covered in blood, one eye gouged out. He raised his hand-cannon, pointed directly at Seloria.
"You have a beautiful power." The voice that came out of Edward's mouth sounded like Jargo's voice, lilting and taunting and tainted with darkness. "You will give it to me. Or my puppets will devour you."
High above them, Jargo stood atop a tree, grinning in the darkness, watching. He had discovered a new power: the power to control the dead. Edward was simply his newest puppet.
Edward suddenly smiled -- a mad, fangy, murderous smile.
BOOM
The recoil of the hand-cannon sent Edward staggering back. Blood gushed down Seloria's leg, where a shot pellet was buried deep in the bone.
The sound of the shot spooked the horses; they bolted, careening down the road with the cart, and Dirion, Pallas, Busker and Wink with it.
The horses galloped straight for Rucks, the cart and its passengers bouncing and thrashing.
"I will have your power!" Jargo's voice crowed through Edward's dead, laughing mouth.
Jargo himself dropped to the ground and silently approached Seloria from behind, his eyes crazed and hungry. | Yer parents 're dead, yer house burned down and yer dog was kicked off a cliff. Revenge is a perfectly healthy way to cope, I think. How 'bout a refill on that ale?
Well, this development was slightly unexpected . . .
CHARACTER SHEET
ꝿ NAME: (the name of your character)
ꝿ RELATIONSHIP WITH : (Pick a Relationship and someone else's character)
Siblings
Unrequited lovers
Spouses in an arranged marriage
Linked by blood ritual
Assassin/target
Rescuer/rescuee
Employer/henchman
Former cellmates
Bounty hunter/bounty
Creator/golem
Sorceror/apprentice
Diabolist/intended sacrificial victim
Werewolf/hunter
Same non-human race
Members of the same religion or guild
Longtime adventuring companions
Drinking buddies
Reluctant allies
Vicious scoundrel/pacifist healer
You each have a scar the other gave you
"You killed my father"
ꝿ NEED: (your character's major goal)
To be a hero
...by defending the little guy
...to that one special person
...so you can lord over everybody else
...in the public's eyes, even if you really aren't
To crush your enemies
...because they ruined your life
...and enslave them
...and they're all enemies
...just to get a moment's peace
To amass a hoard
...by killing every monster you see
...through shady dealings
...of forbidden lore
...to fund a private army
To fly
...with everybody else's treasure
...after one last quest
...before they realize who you really work for
...literally, using a spell or maybe a catapult
To rule
...by marrying a royal heir
...on a throne of your enemies' skulls
...an army of undead
...and impose your type of justice
To overindulge
...with wenches
...in drink
...in rampant thievery
...in forbidden rituals
...in bloodshed
...in tavern brawls
ꝿ OBJECT: (a nifty thing your character possesses)
Weapons
Flaming sword (sword of cataclysmic combustion)
Poisoned dagger (dirk of vicious viper's venom)
Big-ass iron warhammer
Ancient elven bow
Dragonbane blade (broadsword of scaly slaughter)
Catapult
Soul-stealing scepter (scepter of severed souls)
Sentient spear (longspear of wise council)
Cursed blade (cutlass of cruel calamity)
Seeking arrow (arrow of absolutely accurate archery)
Betrayer's axe (greataxe of pliant perfidy)
Staff of resurrection with one charge left
Spells
Enchanting Charm
Transformative Polymorph
Spectral Ward
Demonic Summoning
Trapping Paralysis
Exploding Lightning
Magic Items
Invisibility cloak
Crystal ball of future sight
Crown of fearlessness
Mystery potion (nobody knows what it does)
Impervious chain shirt
Trophies
Mounted troll's head
Genie bottle
Dragon's flame sac
Tome of dark rituals
Gold ring on a mummy's severed finger
Massive pile of gold coins
Sentimental
Strange charm left with a foundling
Invitation to a prestigious order
Statue of a deity (with a hidden compartment)
Old ally polymorphed into a toad
Royal lady's garter
ꝿ DETAILS: (anything and everything you're inspired to write here)
NON-PLAYER CHARACTERS
ꝿ NAME: Busker
ꝿ RELATIONSHIP WITH WINK: Busker's the owner of this fine establishment and Wink is his daughter and most incompetent employee.
ꝿ RELATIONSHIP WITH FATE: Fate is another of Busker's employees, whom he hired when Wink demanded help with the heavy lifting. Usually Fate so good at her job that Busker forgets she works there, but some nights he hides under the bar while she flies into a rage at the patrons.
ꝿ RELATIONSHIP WITH GHARLYC: Busker and Gharlyc go way back, when Busker was young and Gharlyc was still an endearingly heartless bastard. He cherishes memories of drunken stories and exploits of cruelty and power. He credits Gharlyc for teaching him the value of self-preservation and of using others to get what he wants.
ꝿ NEEDS: To wring as much money out of his drunken patrons as possible.
ꝿ OBJECT: Mounted troll's head hanging proudly over the hearth.
ꝿ DETAILS: Busker is middle-aged and balding, with a wide girth and a toadlike nose. He stands behind the bar most nights, listening to rambling stories and adding up tabs. He's quick with a compliment and a smile that never quite reaches his beady eyes.
BUSKER IS DEAD. Sort of. He walks around all right, and some part of his mind still recognizes Wink as his daughter, and he's not murderous at all. At least not yet. But he is definitely dead.
ꝿ NAME: Wink
ꝿ RELATIONSHIP WITH BUSKER: Wink is Busker's daughter. She's also the one who runs this dump, despite what Busker may claim.
ꝿ RELATIONSHIP WITH FATE: Wink and Fate both work at the Bawdy Dog; although technically they both equally work for Busker, Wink does not hesitate to order Fate to take care of the less savory chores. Despite this, Wink considers Fate as a friend and defends her unconditionally.
ꝿ NEEDS: To win the favor of a rich nobleman and run away with him.
ꝿ OBJECT: A rabbit's foot in her pocket.
ꝿ DETAILS: Wink isn't the prettiest in town, but she keeps her hair neat and her corset tight. She can be flirtatious one moment and coolly authoritative the next, especially when the tavern's well-being is threatened.
Wink is Busker's daughter. Right now her priority is to survive, and to make sure Busker doesn't hurt anyone. |
3,624 | 82 | 0 | 2,325 | 2,408 | Levi the destroyer, Levi of the blue steel both epitaphs used for her as a testament for her skill in battle. Yet it here she was about to make those monikers true once more. Levi let out a small smirk a battle was brewing outside her former home and she was going to protect it one way or another. It was a small skirmish probably nothing compared to the battle happening down below where a hidden EFSF hideout was rumored to be. She was sent away from her post on Earth to this battle for one reason or another. Yet despite everything something seemed wrong to her like it wasnt adding up correctly. Shaking the thoughts from her head she pressed forward her Gouf flying through the debris of rocks as it was nothing. For this battle she forgone the normal shield using and instead focused on the use of her heatrod and gun. This wasn't the first step yet at the same time it was. "FOR THE GLORY OF ZEON!" She exclaimed heading out towards a GM that by the looks probably is from the EFSF version of their living dead squadron in the thunderbolt sector. | Name: Roan Oakley
Age: 18
Gender: Female
Appearance: Roan is roughly 5'9", enough to be considered on the taller end of the spectrum, but her figure is very unremarkable with little curves, though in uniform her slight bottom-heaviness is more easily noted. Her is made out into a mane of gentle spikes, edged like waves, and colored a light blond that fades to a pale platinum at the ends. Her eyes are ringed a little, and some say it's from lack of sleep, but the green orbs are always alert and searching no matter what her expression may look like. Her shoulders droop often and she seems the exact opposite of what a lot of Federation pilots are supposed to be, but her skill should not be judged on appearances alone.
Origin: Roan is considered an oddity, because her birth certificate actually lists her as coming from the space colony Londonian whereas her place of residence, until her induction into the military, was a relatively small city far removed from most other Federation operations. As such, Roan and the populace have an abject view of the issues that have been plaguing the colonies and the Federation as a whole, having not relied on the Federation or too much more than the local government for much in years. The rumor is, and the one she doesn't try to wave away, is that her parents brought her down from the colonies so she wouldn't be referred to as a 'Spacenoid' or be treated as someone from the space colonies. This has not been entirely avoided however, as it shows up on her records whenever she transfers units.
Faction: Currently aligned with the Federation, as part of its EFSF mobile suit divisions.
Newtype: Possible yes. She has exhibited a much higher level of 3D spatial awareness than most candidates, allowing her to 'think' in 3D and plan accordingly.
Personality: The best old age word that could be used to describe her is 'hick.' Not in the way of the Old South in what used to be America, but instead to refer to someone that is insular or uninformed. Roan is known to not particularly care about the Federation's interests, nor the entirety of the conflict with Zeon during the One Year War, and is often mocked and derided for not buying into the whole patriot aspect of the military. In fact, she is oftentimes suggested to be a spy with her aloof attitude and apathetic expression, using her colony heritage against her whenever she fails to respond appropriately. Most of this however rolls off of her shoulders as she's not in it for the patriotism or glory, but more to find herself and understand what's going on outside the sphere of her hometown. This is not to say she's completely uneducated; in fact, so far as academics go, she's fairly top-notch.
Backstory: Having grown up in what could be considered a future-type backwoods city, a modern era center where most everything was up to date and yet kept away from the conflict overtaking the rest of the Earth Federation's known holdings, Roan could've been considered a bit sheltered compared to most of the Federation's enlisted personnel. She knew relatively little of the Federation's stance against Zeon and of Zeon's intentions, but it wasn't due to completely willful ignorance. Having seen mobile suit combat on the news feed and seen what took place between the two factions, she decided to broaden her horizon by moving to the place where raw, human emotion and the passionate wills of the people existed, perhaps even twisted to be unrecognizable, and to experience what had been going on herself. Her upbringing and file almost had her canned as a ground troop, an easy sacrifice for the cause, but her skill, intelligence, and fast reflexes quickly forced the Federation to preclude her from fodder. The academy, though rife with bullying, threats, and overall prejudice towards her birth status and her upbringing in the furthest place from the frontlines besides the bourgeois, was the proper kind of challenge for her to try and extend her skillset. Thus, she found during mobile suit simulated exercises and tactical analyses classes that her perception as a whole was much greater than the average person, and on a level above those who had a good grasp of awareness above them. Despite her spacey attitude, this earned her the grudging respect of some of her fellow pilot trainees, and lead to early success in her initial combat sorties. The horrors of war have reached her, but she doesn't lock them away. She prefers to ruminate on them and mourn quietly, lest the bloodbath and madness suck her in.
Other Info: Not a sweets person, but loves fish and fruit. Fish and chips is her favorite ration meal. Writes in her spare time. Doodles in the same notebook. Listens to a variety of music. Can be found in time between sorties on the observation decks, gazing into space.
RGM-79 GM, specifically a model used in the Thunderbolt Sector. Equipped with a Core Block system, and can be fashioned with a thruster pack equipped with two sub arms which are generally used to hold a pair of shields, a double-barreled beam weapon, and the standard issue beam spray gun.
Lately, it seems she's been trying to add different weapons to her arsenal and tactics. Chaff and minovsky particle dispersal have been one set of unusual equipment she's attempted to have applied, as well as small missile or rocket packs or an extra beam spray gun. |
3,625 | 82 | 1 | 1,525 | 524 | Another Zaku met its fate at the hands of her beam spray gun and beam saber, the suit gutted and holed from the intense energy bursts which had reduced those sections of armor to twisted heaps of slag. Her black, gold and white GM stood out among the field of red and white, the two shields hanging off of its back and a third one currently equipped on her GM's right arm for the sake of extra protection.
Underneath that particular shield was a nasty surprise which had befallen a Rick Dom as it had attempted to assault her at close range: a double-barreled beam gun much more powerful than the beam spray gun she held in her mobile suit's right hand, but with far less charges. A Rick Dom was more than worthy enough for its blast. She sighed harshly as her eyes looked over her screens, utilizing the RGM-79's sensors in order to keep track of the utter bedlam which had broken out in Side 6.
They had been assaulted without warning. The Minovsky particle density was so high that most of their long range sensors were useless, and due to the debris field, whatever visual warnings they had were obscured by the field and thus provided an extra edge for the incoming Zeon troopers. Close-in Weapons Systems and heavy artillery attempted to stave off the attack long enough for the hangar bays to open and for the mobile suits to dispatch, but it wasn't long after the first wave launched that those defenses were completely overwhelmed by the onslaught of Zakus, Goufs, Rick Doms and other assorted mobile suits as support. The very first Federation mobile suits into battle were quickly annihilated, but once the first panic had been dealt with, more had launched to fill in the gaps left by their fallen comrades.
Streaks of blazing light and the clatter of solid shell weaponry, followed by the occasional bazooka explosion filled the void, Roan navigating the debris field easily and deducing places that enemy mobile suits could hide, tending to avoid them until she could get back to her unit and attempted to stem the tide of Zeon. Her RGM-79 was so distinct however that she attracted much more attention, not in least part due to the color scheme or the backpack with sub-arms.
Right now, she really wished that she had the color scheme changed a month or so before as a radar contact popped up on her displays. "What? Erf, why now?!"
She grit her teeth and positioned the vernier thrusters, spinning the GM around to catch sight of her opponent: an azure Gouf, one of the more advanced suits used by the Principality of Zeon's forces, and a terror to most people. Roan's forehead beaded with a bit of sweat, her breath catching in her chest as she readied herself for its assault. "So you think I'm important enough to come after...? Maybe I can kick you off far enough to survive..." | Name:Valretha
Age: 16
Gender: Female
5ft 4in 170 lbs, seen wearing standard issue zeon pilot garb outside of a normal suit.
Origin: Spacenoid
Faction: Zeon
Newtype: Yes
Personality: Whiel having several ideals that let her align with Zeon, the girl is only truly loyal to herself and those that prove to show their worth and trust. Not against fighting, the girl herself is demanding professionally but friendly and somewhat laid back when with friends. Trust is something that is definitely earned as her childhood
Backstory: Born and raised in side three, her parents were skeptical believers in Deikum's philosophies. Upon his death, they paid their respects at his funeral parade. unfortunately, they were also next to Dozle's car when the bomb that killed his brother went off. Just before that, something had told her to itch her ankle. She ducked down and was consequently blown over from the explosion. her ears were ringing loudly. Getting back up. she found her parents were both on the ground, people around her were screaming. Her parents had been blunt to say the least, so she knew what death was despite being five years old. The next three years were a blur to her, but she wound up with support from Dozle, who had seen her that day after his rage had subsided and took pity on the girl.
She was fiercely independent and Dozle took on a more uncle like role to her. He'd support her and get her nannies and tutors to raise and school her, but never fully adopted the girl. When she was able to, she joined the military and quickly found herself piloting starfighters for a short while before winding up inside of an MS. Not without a a bit of preferential treatment from Dozle to try and keep the scarred girl off the front lines, he let her take up a spot in an experimental division known as NTZ. This has brought her around the sides, traveling to test different types of mobile suits before the division was finally called to war.
Other Info:
A strong and potent newtype, she only has stayed out of the hands of the development of newtype and newtype weaponry by Dozle. To this point, she is fearful of those in zeon taking her if anything were to happen to him.
Mobile Suit Info:
EMS-07 ZUDAH PEregrinus
Modified to have a 210 mm rifle for long distance shooting. Carries a heat hawk and the engine has been overhauled to have the saturn defect removed. has in atomosphere flight capabilities and is more agile die to several reduction in armor weight. |
3,626 | 82 | 2 | 2,325 | 2,408 | Was this right? Levi thought to herself as she fought the gm this one giving her more trouble than any of the others combined. She fought she killed that was the way it was right? Shaking her thoughts clear she charged forward her large heat hawk at the ready. Letting her gouf grip it tighter she swung it downward at the shoulder of the gm. Getting a hit she went backwards letting out multiple shots from her gouf's gun. This was war it was not pretty but it had to be done. | Name: Roan Oakley
Age: 18
Gender: Female
Appearance: Roan is roughly 5'9", enough to be considered on the taller end of the spectrum, but her figure is very unremarkable with little curves, though in uniform her slight bottom-heaviness is more easily noted. Her is made out into a mane of gentle spikes, edged like waves, and colored a light blond that fades to a pale platinum at the ends. Her eyes are ringed a little, and some say it's from lack of sleep, but the green orbs are always alert and searching no matter what her expression may look like. Her shoulders droop often and she seems the exact opposite of what a lot of Federation pilots are supposed to be, but her skill should not be judged on appearances alone.
Origin: Roan is considered an oddity, because her birth certificate actually lists her as coming from the space colony Londonian whereas her place of residence, until her induction into the military, was a relatively small city far removed from most other Federation operations. As such, Roan and the populace have an abject view of the issues that have been plaguing the colonies and the Federation as a whole, having not relied on the Federation or too much more than the local government for much in years. The rumor is, and the one she doesn't try to wave away, is that her parents brought her down from the colonies so she wouldn't be referred to as a 'Spacenoid' or be treated as someone from the space colonies. This has not been entirely avoided however, as it shows up on her records whenever she transfers units.
Faction: Currently aligned with the Federation, as part of its EFSF mobile suit divisions.
Newtype: Possible yes. She has exhibited a much higher level of 3D spatial awareness than most candidates, allowing her to 'think' in 3D and plan accordingly.
Personality: The best old age word that could be used to describe her is 'hick.' Not in the way of the Old South in what used to be America, but instead to refer to someone that is insular or uninformed. Roan is known to not particularly care about the Federation's interests, nor the entirety of the conflict with Zeon during the One Year War, and is often mocked and derided for not buying into the whole patriot aspect of the military. In fact, she is oftentimes suggested to be a spy with her aloof attitude and apathetic expression, using her colony heritage against her whenever she fails to respond appropriately. Most of this however rolls off of her shoulders as she's not in it for the patriotism or glory, but more to find herself and understand what's going on outside the sphere of her hometown. This is not to say she's completely uneducated; in fact, so far as academics go, she's fairly top-notch.
Backstory: Having grown up in what could be considered a future-type backwoods city, a modern era center where most everything was up to date and yet kept away from the conflict overtaking the rest of the Earth Federation's known holdings, Roan could've been considered a bit sheltered compared to most of the Federation's enlisted personnel. She knew relatively little of the Federation's stance against Zeon and of Zeon's intentions, but it wasn't due to completely willful ignorance. Having seen mobile suit combat on the news feed and seen what took place between the two factions, she decided to broaden her horizon by moving to the place where raw, human emotion and the passionate wills of the people existed, perhaps even twisted to be unrecognizable, and to experience what had been going on herself. Her upbringing and file almost had her canned as a ground troop, an easy sacrifice for the cause, but her skill, intelligence, and fast reflexes quickly forced the Federation to preclude her from fodder. The academy, though rife with bullying, threats, and overall prejudice towards her birth status and her upbringing in the furthest place from the frontlines besides the bourgeois, was the proper kind of challenge for her to try and extend her skillset. Thus, she found during mobile suit simulated exercises and tactical analyses classes that her perception as a whole was much greater than the average person, and on a level above those who had a good grasp of awareness above them. Despite her spacey attitude, this earned her the grudging respect of some of her fellow pilot trainees, and lead to early success in her initial combat sorties. The horrors of war have reached her, but she doesn't lock them away. She prefers to ruminate on them and mourn quietly, lest the bloodbath and madness suck her in.
Other Info: Not a sweets person, but loves fish and fruit. Fish and chips is her favorite ration meal. Writes in her spare time. Doodles in the same notebook. Listens to a variety of music. Can be found in time between sorties on the observation decks, gazing into space.
RGM-79 GM, specifically a model used in the Thunderbolt Sector. Equipped with a Core Block system, and can be fashioned with a thruster pack equipped with two sub arms which are generally used to hold a pair of shields, a double-barreled beam weapon, and the standard issue beam spray gun.
Lately, it seems she's been trying to add different weapons to her arsenal and tactics. Chaff and minovsky particle dispersal have been one set of unusual equipment she's attempted to have applied, as well as small missile or rocket packs or an extra beam spray gun. |
3,627 | 82 | 3 | 1,525 | 524 | The Gouf approached with lightning speed as it swung its heat hawk with savage grace, the deliberate blow swinging across to cleave the left arm of her GM from its body. Gripping the controls, Roan clenched her teeth and breathed in sharply, eyes wide as she used the many additional verniers and the added maneuverability of her Thunderbolt Sector RGM-79 to peel away just enough, throwing up the shield which held her dual beam rifle.
Unfortunately for her, it had already taken its fair share of its. The shield's anti-beam coating failed it miserably before the energy axe cut through it like so much butter, scoring the shoulder of her mobile suit deep enough for the alarms to go off in her cockpit but not deep enough to completely gut the arm's function. However, her dual beam rifle was totally useless as half of the mechanism was slashed through, causing her to dump the shield and the weapon before using her shield-equipped sub arm to block the incoming shells as the Zeon mobile suit dashed away. Repositioning the thrusters, she rocketed to the side in an attempt to dive towards a bit of wreckage, pointing her beam spray gun at the Gouf and squeezing her trigger. "Damned Federation, you can't even modify your Jims past this?! The Zeon in front of me has a bastardly good MS! Even with the Thunderbolt Sector mods, he's going to give me a hellishly hard time!"
Roan's senses tingled as she boosted away from her opponent, causing her to look towards the edges of their battlefield. A sniper unit, which she had tried her best to hide from, was moving in closer. Besides the Gouf being a relentlessly berserker, this one was an even more unusual mobile suit made for stealthier flanking tactics. If she lost it in the debris field, it was more than likely going to spear her GM through its core block. She shook her head furiously as she flew the mech close to the surface of a giant, floating hunk of space colony, the unit flying on its back as she zoomed past its surface and dodged the incoming obstacles with practiced ease. "I've got to get some space from those two!" | Name:Valretha
Age: 16
Gender: Female
5ft 4in 170 lbs, seen wearing standard issue zeon pilot garb outside of a normal suit.
Origin: Spacenoid
Faction: Zeon
Newtype: Yes
Personality: Whiel having several ideals that let her align with Zeon, the girl is only truly loyal to herself and those that prove to show their worth and trust. Not against fighting, the girl herself is demanding professionally but friendly and somewhat laid back when with friends. Trust is something that is definitely earned as her childhood
Backstory: Born and raised in side three, her parents were skeptical believers in Deikum's philosophies. Upon his death, they paid their respects at his funeral parade. unfortunately, they were also next to Dozle's car when the bomb that killed his brother went off. Just before that, something had told her to itch her ankle. She ducked down and was consequently blown over from the explosion. her ears were ringing loudly. Getting back up. she found her parents were both on the ground, people around her were screaming. Her parents had been blunt to say the least, so she knew what death was despite being five years old. The next three years were a blur to her, but she wound up with support from Dozle, who had seen her that day after his rage had subsided and took pity on the girl.
She was fiercely independent and Dozle took on a more uncle like role to her. He'd support her and get her nannies and tutors to raise and school her, but never fully adopted the girl. When she was able to, she joined the military and quickly found herself piloting starfighters for a short while before winding up inside of an MS. Not without a a bit of preferential treatment from Dozle to try and keep the scarred girl off the front lines, he let her take up a spot in an experimental division known as NTZ. This has brought her around the sides, traveling to test different types of mobile suits before the division was finally called to war.
Other Info:
A strong and potent newtype, she only has stayed out of the hands of the development of newtype and newtype weaponry by Dozle. To this point, she is fearful of those in zeon taking her if anything were to happen to him.
Mobile Suit Info:
EMS-07 ZUDAH PEregrinus
Modified to have a 210 mm rifle for long distance shooting. Carries a heat hawk and the engine has been overhauled to have the saturn defect removed. has in atomosphere flight capabilities and is more agile die to several reduction in armor weight. |
3,628 | 82 | 4 | 511 | 3,294 | BRIZO BADAMISH
<<THEME START>>
GASSING COUNTLESS SIDES
EVIL TAKES ITS PRIDE
IN ZEOOON (ZEON)
ZEEEOOOOOON
A blue streak darted across the battlefield at incredible speeds, leaving explosions trailing in its wake.
SPACENOIDS LAUNCH ASSAULT
TO STEAL OUR PRECIOUS SALT
IT'S ZEEEOOON (ZEON!)
ZEEOOON (ZEON!)
It danced through the debris, pinging from one piece of rubble to another. Ammunition soared its way, striking nothing but the starlit void where there was once blue.
NOWHERE TO RUN
NOWHERE TO HIDE
PRESSURE SPREADING FAR AND WIDE
WHO CAN TURN THE TIDE?
A Federation mobile suit materialised behind the strikingly blue frame, disengaging from its asteroid cover to fire its beam spray gun towards the unprotected back of the enemy. It would be the one to take down this filthy Spacenoid, and in this ambush, there was no way in hell for an escape.
The attack missed.
Below?!
G.M. JIM!
G.M. JIM IS THERE!
G.M. JIM!
G.M. JI-*crackle*
A single crimson eye flashed in the reflection of the GM's visor.
"That was a good shot."
Brizo manoeuvred her Act Zaku away from the unfortunate Federation MS, holstering the beam rifle that had dealt the fatal blow to her enemy's cockpit. One down. A few dozen more to keep the bosses happy left to go. | Name: Brizo Badamish
Age: 17
Gender: Female
Appearance:
Origin: Spacenoid
Faction: Flanagan Institute, Principality of Zeon
Newtype: Yes
Personality: First glance, total doormat. Like, if you were to swagger up to the door of somebody's house and look down, Brizo Badamish would be lying flat on the ground, completely uncaring even if you decided to wipe your shoes on her back. Tell her to jump, and she'd jump. Tell her to steal some files from your rival scientist's office, and she'll work as your resident gopher for less than minimum wage. She doesn't protest at all.
Actually, all of that's a lie.
Brizo Badamish is a pretty intelligent and helpful person, correct. That's less because she'll let anybody walk over her, but because she really doesn't like sticking her head out and getting bothered for little things. It isn't a massive fuss if someone wants her to grab them a coffee, but it gets real tiresome if she's lying aorund and a scientist berates her for not doing any work. Besides, she likes work, whether it be doing odd jobs or piloting a giant robot; it takes her mind off things and is generally pretty relaxing.
She's sorta airheaded in that regard, but despite that she's actually pretty good at what she does (even if it looks like she's half-arsing it).
On a personal level, Brizo actually has a sense of humour. She likes jokes, no matter how shitty they may be, and will casually share them if you ever feel like asking. Her hobbies actually include hitting the joke books for them, as well as watching cartoons (the other kids at the orphanage always hogged the single cathode-ray television they managed to salvage). She is a bit eccentric though when you interact with her (hence the airhead label), and at times may be innocently insulting (that might be a lie, nobody actually knows if she's fucking with us yet). However, she's a solid pal, but if she does find things to be overly tiring or fussy, expect complaints and grumbling.
She has a reasonably screwed-on set of morals too.
Backstory: A native of Side 3, Brizo Badamish spent her formative years under the rule of the Republic of Zeon (and later, Principality) without parents, instead growing up under the care of a local orphanage. During this time, she began to manifest signs of Newtype potential, and was soon recruited into the fledgling Flanagan Institute by the age of ten as a test subject. However, with the addition of more skilled and more powerful subjects, her duties soon became far more mundane, such as acting as a gopher for the scientists or background filler for her more special compatriots' flashback scenes.
And that may have been her eventual fate, as another forgettable Newtype, had she not been assigned to test the Institute's Newtype weapons.
Indeed, Brizo quickly displayed signs of impressive piloting skills (helped along by reading the gigantic instruction manuals beforehand), and the Institute realised that they could make better use of her by shoving her into whatever mobile suit or mobile armor of the week they had developed to see how things worked. It was a pretty good deal for her, especially with the increased food allocation and whatnot, and so she continued to familiarise herself with the machines (and growing slightly attached to her favourite, the Brawrello).
Flanagan's also lending her out to the Zeon space forces for more data these days, hence why you can see her hanging around.
Other: She's voiced by Minori Chihara.
---
MOBILE WEAPON
MS-11 ACT ZAKU
Unit type: mass production general purpose mobile suit
Armor materials: super hard steel alloy
Powerplant: Minovsky type ultracompact fusion reactor, output rated at 1440 kW
Propulsion: rocket thrusters: total output 64800 kg
Equipment and design features: sensors, range 3600 meters; magnetic coated joints
Armaments: beam rifle, power by rechargeable energy cap; machine gun; bullpup gun; heat hawk; heat saber x 2
MAN-00X-2 BRAWRELLO
Unit type: prototype Newtype use mobile armor
Equipment: psycommu system
Armaments: wired mega particle cannon x 2, wired heat claw x 2, diffuse mega particle cannon x 1, quadruple missile launcher x 2 |
3,629 | 82 | 5 | 1,288 | 1,329 | In the old days warfare was loud. It was chaotic, it was frenetic, every action punctuated with the percussive note of shot or shell. Soldiers would return home hard of hearing, and the surest sign of a battle’s end was the ensuing silence.
In space all was silence.
There was no sound of shot or shell, there was no sound when rounds connected with armor, or cockpits were breached. Not even comms worked, past a certain range. Minovsky interference saw to that. The only sounds were the ones within a pilot’s own cockpit. Warnings, alarms, the click of controls engaging… That was it. The chaos was noiseless. But that was okay.
Rebekah Fell could provide her own soundtrack.
The music augmented her mood, the adrenaline coursing through her veins with every squeeze of the trigger. A Zaku drifted helplessly in space, its pilot dead before he even saw her beam. The darkly colored GM was a ghost, striking from long range and reorienting to acquire a new target. In the close-to-mid-range conflict, the markswoman was an unexpected factor. Unfortunately she couldn’t afford to stay at that range any longer. Several of her comrades had fallen in the last few moments alone, and others were hardpressed to hold their own.
More direct action was required. The Striker EX moved its shield into position at Rebekah’s urging and accelerated rapidly towards the fray. Her target, at this moment, was a blue unit streaking through the battlefield with devastating effectiveness. It had shot down a GM before her eyes after evading what would have been a deadly ambush, the maneuver instantly marking the Act Zaku as a threat. Rather than engage directly, she opted for a subtler approach; her anchor shot out and secured itself to an asteroid, letting her reach the rocky surface without using thrusters that would have alerted any nearby enemies to her presence.
The Striker’s feet connected with the asteroid, bending to give way into a low crouch. The position ensured she was presenting the smallest target possible, one easily covered with her shield. Just as importantly the solid footing and anchor ensured maximum stability. The visor that gave the Metal Spider clicked into place, rendering her targets as points of red in a blue expanse. Much easier than relying on the naked eye for target acquisition of a blue mobile suit in the black of space. The GM’s beam rifle came up, carefully adjusted to ensure her accuracy while she drew a bead on the blue Zaku. There was no sign her target had spotted her, and at this range it was especially unlikely.
Just as she wanted it.
She pulled the trigger in time with her exhalation, sending a beam lancing through the void to (hopefully) connect with the Act Zaku’s center mass.
It wasn’t personal, not really. Her opponent was a soldier just as Rebekah was. They fought for their home the same way, and it was not at their feet that blame could be laid. But they were an enemy, and an enemy that had shot down one of her colleagues. Given the chance, they would do so many times over. Not something that she was inclined to forgive.
Her opponent was as innocent as Rebekah herself, for what that was worth, but they were still an enemy.
They could blame it on the misfortune of their birth. | Name: Rebekah Cross
Age: 19
Gender: Female
Appearance: Standing 5’10”, Rebekah Fell tends to be rather striking for a few reasons. The contrast of her pitch black hair and skin as pale as a Spacenoid that has never set foot on Earth is the first, accented by the middle ground of her gray Federation uniform. Said uniform is always immaculate and pressed, the picture of attention to detail. Her cap is always worn, as well, as it serves to conceal the fact that her hair is most definitely not regulation length. It is always tied up and concealed under her cap in public, but falls down to her waist when let loose. It is her sole deviation from protocol, and one she is oddly protective of.
She cuts a striking, unusually curvy figure though her build is downplayed by the rigid contours of the standard Federation uniform. Her posture and movements, like her demeanor, are rigid and militaristic as though she is perpetually at attention. Her featured could be considered pretty, but the effect is significantly diminished by the inscrutably cold neutrality that always adorns her features. Her violet eyes are always alert, roaming her surroundings with great intensity even when she seems (as close as she gets to) relaxed.
Origin: Earthnoid
Faction: EFSF
Newtype: Quite possibly. As an Earthnoid, Rebekah has not spent the time in space necessary to awaken any latent Newtype potential. She has however demonstrated an exceptional understanding of her position in space, even in a three-dimensional environment like space, and unusually swift reaction times. Neither necessarily guarantees Newtype potential, as both could merely be natural skill, but time in space may awaken said latent potential.
Personality: Cold. Aloof. Dispassionate. These, and other synonyms, would be the impression someone meeting Rebekah for the first time would probably give. The GM pilot is not an easy woman to get to know. Her tendency to keep everyone at arm’s length is mostly surface-deep, and anyone who spends time around her is bound to catch glimpses past it. She is highly loyal and protective to her comrades, whether she shows any sign of it or not. No one gets left behind if she can help it, and every pilot that fails to come back from a battle is a personal failing to her.
Anyone who manages to befriend her has earned a friend for life. Friendship is not something she takes lightly, and she will stop at nothing to help or protect a friend. Nothing is of higher importance. Rebekah is a warm, quirky girl with an amusing fondness for desserts if you manage to get past the surface. What she feels passionate about, be it a hobby or an ideal, she is very passionate about.
Backstory: There is little to say about Rebekah Fell’s early life. She was born to a university professor and an accountant and raised in a modest home. Her performance in school was above average, though not extremely, and she maintained a close circle of friends throughout her childhood. Her aspirations, as she aged, seemed geared mostly towards a good college education and a comfortable, albeit quiet, life. She was an avid athlete, mostly of the track and martial arts variety, but her athletics were mostly just hobbies.
The growing tensions between Earth and Side 3, and ultimately the outbreak of the One Year War, changed all of that. Though not personally affected Rebekah lost friends to Operation British and the early days of the war, as everyone did. The atrocities hardened her, and she enlisted without hesitation in the Federation’s forces when their recruitment drive began.
Rebekah was actually an early pilot of the Ball, and one of the fortunate ones who survived their time as a pilot of the spherical coffin. Her reflexes served her extremely well as the pilot of such a mobile, but poorly armored, unit. The experience carried over extremely well when she was issued an RGM-79 GM, giving her an edge that less experienced combatants lacked. As time marched on, and variations of the base GM were developed, Rebekah began to specialize into units that would maximize her maneuverability and firepower, usually at the detriment of armor. While many struggled with such suits, her time in the Ball proved invaluable. The culmination of this is her Striker EX, customized slightly to suit her needs, a unit that she is quite affectionate towards.
Other Info: Born UC 0060, O- blood type, maintains an extensive personal collection of movies and television to watch in her quarters.
Mobile Suit Info:
RGM-79-FP-S1 GM Striker EX
Weapons/Equipment:
-2x 60mm Vulcans
-Beam Saber
-AE/ZIM.HK Type-4 Heat knife
-YHI RAQ-SS-Wp Sashot Anchor: Arm-mounted launcher intended to embed its spike in a target (enemy unit, enemy ship, asteroid, etc) attached to a long metal retractable cable. Mounted on the right arm.
-YHI 1GL-84SB Grenade Launcher Anchor: Sidearm that launches explosive spikes that embed in the target before exploding.
-L9 Type Beam Rifle: Long range beam rifle with fold-out bipod. Mounted horizontally on the back in place of a second knife.
-BOWA BR-M-84H-H-4 Type Beam Rifle: Handheld, primary weapon.
-RGM*S-Sh-WF/S-00109 (Renpou GUNDAM Mass-produced Small Shield: Shield taken from ground-use GMs, stock save for beam coating added for Rebekah’s use. Mounted on left forearm.
-Thermal Visor: Thermal imaging system mounted on, and deployable from, the forehead.
The GM Striker EX, nicknamed Metal Spider by some due to its thermal visor, is a general use custom mobile suit created from the ground-use, close-combat-oriented GM Striker. The Striker EX features additional thrusters that allow for extremely high acceleration at the cost of armor and ballistic protection. The Striker EX, as used by Rebekah Fell, is a high-mobility assault unit oriented towards mid-to-long range engagement. Though capable in close combat, it is meant to avoid it; due to its light armor any strike in close combat is likely to be critical, and strikes cannot be easily avoided in close quarters. |
3,630 | 82 | 6 | 2,325 | 2,408 | Levi laughed in a somewhat maniacal tone "stop the fighting?" She thought to herself while yes it did seem like there was no point in fighting anymore something inside her pushed her to keep fighting. She felt thousands upon thousands of voices all in her head some screaming, some celebrating, some humming to a odd show tune. It was all in her head and it hurt the screams the the jubilation it hurt so much at times. So she did what she always did to quiet it she fought long and hard pushing herself more and more all to end to dampen the pain in her head. "Im sorry but it just hurts it hurts so much..." She trailed off on the open radio so everyone was able to hear it. Her large heat hawk in her head she charged once more she would dampen the pain the only way she knew how. | Name: Roan Oakley
Age: 18
Gender: Female
Appearance: Roan is roughly 5'9", enough to be considered on the taller end of the spectrum, but her figure is very unremarkable with little curves, though in uniform her slight bottom-heaviness is more easily noted. Her is made out into a mane of gentle spikes, edged like waves, and colored a light blond that fades to a pale platinum at the ends. Her eyes are ringed a little, and some say it's from lack of sleep, but the green orbs are always alert and searching no matter what her expression may look like. Her shoulders droop often and she seems the exact opposite of what a lot of Federation pilots are supposed to be, but her skill should not be judged on appearances alone.
Origin: Roan is considered an oddity, because her birth certificate actually lists her as coming from the space colony Londonian whereas her place of residence, until her induction into the military, was a relatively small city far removed from most other Federation operations. As such, Roan and the populace have an abject view of the issues that have been plaguing the colonies and the Federation as a whole, having not relied on the Federation or too much more than the local government for much in years. The rumor is, and the one she doesn't try to wave away, is that her parents brought her down from the colonies so she wouldn't be referred to as a 'Spacenoid' or be treated as someone from the space colonies. This has not been entirely avoided however, as it shows up on her records whenever she transfers units.
Faction: Currently aligned with the Federation, as part of its EFSF mobile suit divisions.
Newtype: Possible yes. She has exhibited a much higher level of 3D spatial awareness than most candidates, allowing her to 'think' in 3D and plan accordingly.
Personality: The best old age word that could be used to describe her is 'hick.' Not in the way of the Old South in what used to be America, but instead to refer to someone that is insular or uninformed. Roan is known to not particularly care about the Federation's interests, nor the entirety of the conflict with Zeon during the One Year War, and is often mocked and derided for not buying into the whole patriot aspect of the military. In fact, she is oftentimes suggested to be a spy with her aloof attitude and apathetic expression, using her colony heritage against her whenever she fails to respond appropriately. Most of this however rolls off of her shoulders as she's not in it for the patriotism or glory, but more to find herself and understand what's going on outside the sphere of her hometown. This is not to say she's completely uneducated; in fact, so far as academics go, she's fairly top-notch.
Backstory: Having grown up in what could be considered a future-type backwoods city, a modern era center where most everything was up to date and yet kept away from the conflict overtaking the rest of the Earth Federation's known holdings, Roan could've been considered a bit sheltered compared to most of the Federation's enlisted personnel. She knew relatively little of the Federation's stance against Zeon and of Zeon's intentions, but it wasn't due to completely willful ignorance. Having seen mobile suit combat on the news feed and seen what took place between the two factions, she decided to broaden her horizon by moving to the place where raw, human emotion and the passionate wills of the people existed, perhaps even twisted to be unrecognizable, and to experience what had been going on herself. Her upbringing and file almost had her canned as a ground troop, an easy sacrifice for the cause, but her skill, intelligence, and fast reflexes quickly forced the Federation to preclude her from fodder. The academy, though rife with bullying, threats, and overall prejudice towards her birth status and her upbringing in the furthest place from the frontlines besides the bourgeois, was the proper kind of challenge for her to try and extend her skillset. Thus, she found during mobile suit simulated exercises and tactical analyses classes that her perception as a whole was much greater than the average person, and on a level above those who had a good grasp of awareness above them. Despite her spacey attitude, this earned her the grudging respect of some of her fellow pilot trainees, and lead to early success in her initial combat sorties. The horrors of war have reached her, but she doesn't lock them away. She prefers to ruminate on them and mourn quietly, lest the bloodbath and madness suck her in.
Other Info: Not a sweets person, but loves fish and fruit. Fish and chips is her favorite ration meal. Writes in her spare time. Doodles in the same notebook. Listens to a variety of music. Can be found in time between sorties on the observation decks, gazing into space.
RGM-79 GM, specifically a model used in the Thunderbolt Sector. Equipped with a Core Block system, and can be fashioned with a thruster pack equipped with two sub arms which are generally used to hold a pair of shields, a double-barreled beam weapon, and the standard issue beam spray gun.
Lately, it seems she's been trying to add different weapons to her arsenal and tactics. Chaff and minovsky particle dispersal have been one set of unusual equipment she's attempted to have applied, as well as small missile or rocket packs or an extra beam spray gun. |
3,631 | 82 | 7 | 1,525 | 524 | The girl was almost in tears. "DAMNIT! You can feel it and you only cause more pain!" she cried out loudly, over the open comms, her voice pained. "You are killing people when you silence a voice! You can't silence all the voices by killing as they only cause more to scream in pain! Can't you see that by fighitng this fight you'll only make the screams worse, that you can finally understand what is going on in this war! Do you want this pain to be suffered by everyone for nothing or would you want to carry a burden towards a noble goal? Because zeon isn't it.... feeling a colony of people disappear isn't the noble way or the way worth fighting for!" she pleaded, pushing after the gouf as she was closing in now. The girl's eyes were filled with tears as she pushed her thruster as far as it would go. "Are you a monster or are you human!" she pleaded to know, while aiming to be on a collision course with the Gouf. | Name:Valretha
Age: 16
Gender: Female
5ft 4in 170 lbs, seen wearing standard issue zeon pilot garb outside of a normal suit.
Origin: Spacenoid
Faction: Zeon
Newtype: Yes
Personality: Whiel having several ideals that let her align with Zeon, the girl is only truly loyal to herself and those that prove to show their worth and trust. Not against fighting, the girl herself is demanding professionally but friendly and somewhat laid back when with friends. Trust is something that is definitely earned as her childhood
Backstory: Born and raised in side three, her parents were skeptical believers in Deikum's philosophies. Upon his death, they paid their respects at his funeral parade. unfortunately, they were also next to Dozle's car when the bomb that killed his brother went off. Just before that, something had told her to itch her ankle. She ducked down and was consequently blown over from the explosion. her ears were ringing loudly. Getting back up. she found her parents were both on the ground, people around her were screaming. Her parents had been blunt to say the least, so she knew what death was despite being five years old. The next three years were a blur to her, but she wound up with support from Dozle, who had seen her that day after his rage had subsided and took pity on the girl.
She was fiercely independent and Dozle took on a more uncle like role to her. He'd support her and get her nannies and tutors to raise and school her, but never fully adopted the girl. When she was able to, she joined the military and quickly found herself piloting starfighters for a short while before winding up inside of an MS. Not without a a bit of preferential treatment from Dozle to try and keep the scarred girl off the front lines, he let her take up a spot in an experimental division known as NTZ. This has brought her around the sides, traveling to test different types of mobile suits before the division was finally called to war.
Other Info:
A strong and potent newtype, she only has stayed out of the hands of the development of newtype and newtype weaponry by Dozle. To this point, she is fearful of those in zeon taking her if anything were to happen to him.
Mobile Suit Info:
EMS-07 ZUDAH PEregrinus
Modified to have a 210 mm rifle for long distance shooting. Carries a heat hawk and the engine has been overhauled to have the saturn defect removed. has in atomosphere flight capabilities and is more agile die to several reduction in armor weight. |
3,632 | 82 | 8 | 511 | 3,294 | BRIZO BADAMISH
*Dramatic Flexatone Sounds*
Her thrusters engaged immediately, the Act Zaku responding to the rapid commands of Brizo Badamish as if it were almost an extension of her own body, darting away to avoid the streak of light that sizzled through the void where she had once been. She immediately moved for cover, ducking behind the same asteroid the GM she had destroyed had been previously hiding behind, using the mass of the object to separate her from the hostile that was awaiting somewhere in the distance.
It could have been construed as an overly cautious move, but Brizo didn't see any issue in it.
After all, that had clearly been a shot from a beam rifle.
Most Feddie suits had yet to commonly possess them. They usually preferred the cheaper, shorter-ranged beam spray gun (which was a real killer at close ranges anyway), so the fact that this hostile had one ... well, she certainly wasn't fighting any normal GM. She peeked the head of her Zaku over the top of the asteroid before dropping down a mere moment later. She didn't see properly, and the rapid movement of the cameras didn't help with a clear image, but that was definitely no normal GM.
For one, it looked way too tacticool. More edges than the cutesy curves she'd started to associate with those Jims.
Not a standard GM. Had a beam rifle.
And ...
That reaction. If she had felt it ... what of the other pilot?
Another Newtype?
Did the Feddies have some of their own?
That was new.
But that wasn't the issue. The problem she was facing now was different. Could she move quickly enough to close the distance between her and that strikingly-edgy GM without getting hit by beams? | Name: Brizo Badamish
Age: 17
Gender: Female
Appearance:
Origin: Spacenoid
Faction: Flanagan Institute, Principality of Zeon
Newtype: Yes
Personality: First glance, total doormat. Like, if you were to swagger up to the door of somebody's house and look down, Brizo Badamish would be lying flat on the ground, completely uncaring even if you decided to wipe your shoes on her back. Tell her to jump, and she'd jump. Tell her to steal some files from your rival scientist's office, and she'll work as your resident gopher for less than minimum wage. She doesn't protest at all.
Actually, all of that's a lie.
Brizo Badamish is a pretty intelligent and helpful person, correct. That's less because she'll let anybody walk over her, but because she really doesn't like sticking her head out and getting bothered for little things. It isn't a massive fuss if someone wants her to grab them a coffee, but it gets real tiresome if she's lying aorund and a scientist berates her for not doing any work. Besides, she likes work, whether it be doing odd jobs or piloting a giant robot; it takes her mind off things and is generally pretty relaxing.
She's sorta airheaded in that regard, but despite that she's actually pretty good at what she does (even if it looks like she's half-arsing it).
On a personal level, Brizo actually has a sense of humour. She likes jokes, no matter how shitty they may be, and will casually share them if you ever feel like asking. Her hobbies actually include hitting the joke books for them, as well as watching cartoons (the other kids at the orphanage always hogged the single cathode-ray television they managed to salvage). She is a bit eccentric though when you interact with her (hence the airhead label), and at times may be innocently insulting (that might be a lie, nobody actually knows if she's fucking with us yet). However, she's a solid pal, but if she does find things to be overly tiring or fussy, expect complaints and grumbling.
She has a reasonably screwed-on set of morals too.
Backstory: A native of Side 3, Brizo Badamish spent her formative years under the rule of the Republic of Zeon (and later, Principality) without parents, instead growing up under the care of a local orphanage. During this time, she began to manifest signs of Newtype potential, and was soon recruited into the fledgling Flanagan Institute by the age of ten as a test subject. However, with the addition of more skilled and more powerful subjects, her duties soon became far more mundane, such as acting as a gopher for the scientists or background filler for her more special compatriots' flashback scenes.
And that may have been her eventual fate, as another forgettable Newtype, had she not been assigned to test the Institute's Newtype weapons.
Indeed, Brizo quickly displayed signs of impressive piloting skills (helped along by reading the gigantic instruction manuals beforehand), and the Institute realised that they could make better use of her by shoving her into whatever mobile suit or mobile armor of the week they had developed to see how things worked. It was a pretty good deal for her, especially with the increased food allocation and whatnot, and so she continued to familiarise herself with the machines (and growing slightly attached to her favourite, the Brawrello).
Flanagan's also lending her out to the Zeon space forces for more data these days, hence why you can see her hanging around.
Other: She's voiced by Minori Chihara.
---
MOBILE WEAPON
MS-11 ACT ZAKU
Unit type: mass production general purpose mobile suit
Armor materials: super hard steel alloy
Powerplant: Minovsky type ultracompact fusion reactor, output rated at 1440 kW
Propulsion: rocket thrusters: total output 64800 kg
Equipment and design features: sensors, range 3600 meters; magnetic coated joints
Armaments: beam rifle, power by rechargeable energy cap; machine gun; bullpup gun; heat hawk; heat saber x 2
MAN-00X-2 BRAWRELLO
Unit type: prototype Newtype use mobile armor
Equipment: psycommu system
Armaments: wired mega particle cannon x 2, wired heat claw x 2, diffuse mega particle cannon x 1, quadruple missile launcher x 2 |
3,633 | 82 | 9 | 1,826 | 1,162 | "Oh, all dogs of war, shed a tear for poor, fair Dallas. So many miles away from home, stuffed like a sardine into this coffin...all to fight Spacenoids more interested in headbutting each other. I should have stayed on the street corner. At least everyone wanted me there."
The lonely pilot in the custom GM Juggler, despite his impassioned cries for companionship, nonetheless backed off hastily from the Zudah he'd been pursuing at the sight of its trajectory. He could take the older suit with relative ease, and perhaps even handle the Gouf, but the maneuvering necessary would be taxing on the cobbled-together Newtype-use Jim. Even the greatest juggler knew how many balls he could keep in the air, and in case the two turned their backs on Arnaud's teachings and decided to target the Juggler, the resulting slugfest wouldn't be to his benefit.
Dallas Matthieu Renatus Grenier wanted to make love, not war.
He had just reached a relatively safe distance from the two Zeon pilots when he glimpsed the familiar dull viridian of a Zaku approaching him from his eight o'clock. Fast. The Juggler was heavier than the average GM, but Dallas' reflexes were such that it could turn to face the approaching mobile suit and spread its arms magnanimously.
"Ah! Quoi de beau, my dear Zaku pilot? Are you here to shoot the shit with me, or foolish enough to shoot shit at me?"
The Zaku's heat hawk, drawn in retaliation, was clear as crystal. The Juggler seemed to sigh slightly, shoulders slumping - before the two Ball Type Ks attached to its shoulders released and flew towards the Zaku. Each pod weaved towards the Zaku; one released a grappling hook and ensnared the suit by the wrist, while the other ducked under the swing of the heat hawk with a speed that belied the Ball's shoddy reputation. On its second pass, the Type K dodged the hawk again and snagged its grappling hook on the inside of the Zaku's elbow, forcing its arm back. With both limbs restrained, four jury-rigged beam rifles began firing, turning one of the mobile suit's hands to slag and blowing off the forearm that gripped the heat hawk. With their hold on the enemy now lost, both Balls drew back and began firing into the helpless Zaku's cockpit. It was over in seconds. Dallas sighed softly and began maneuvering the Balls back to La Hire, leaving the Zaku's corpse to meander in space. So much time and effort had been poured into training with the Juggler that even he had grown excited to see what it could do - like the thrill he'd imagined from cuckolding a rich man in his own home.
But, just as stealing away from a gold-leafed penthouse didn't quite match the thrill of a hot, messy tryst in the backseat of the car...
This war was just disappointing.
Maybe he could sing to pass the time.
Ahem.
"Allons! Enfants de laaaaaaaa Patrie! Le jour de gloire est arrivé!" | Name: Dallas Matthieu Renatus Grenier ("Dal," "Dally," "Matty Magnum," "The Sundance Kid," "Arc de Triunffffff")
Age: 19
Appearance:
Origin: Colonies, with Parisien upbringing
Faction: EFSF
Newtype: Yes.
Personality: Though not a dyed-in-the-wool Zeon lover by any means, Dallas isn't exactly a "truth, justice, and kissing babies on the head" kind of war hero - nor is he a brooding wreck who sobs about the lives he's taken whenever he leaves the cockpit . Rather, his personality flaws all lay in his poor attitude in general. Intentionally needling, irreverent, and quick to anger, the mercurial young man loves to pout and roll his eyes with aplomb, and his Cheshire grin is just as often intended to make someone else roll their eyes right back at him. He's not without his vanity either, often going out of his way to emphasize his own attractiveness or flirt with others. Noted pansexual.
Despite his love of being the bad boy, the French brat has a heart of gold somewhere underneath the jackassery. Bold and fearless to a fault, his incessant need to talk often belies his Newtype prowess, superb oratory skills and a creative mind. It's not rare for you to shut Dallas up only to find yourself thinking later on how there were some good ideas underneath the stream of jokes, come-ons, and curses.
Backstory: Born to a pair of ne'er-do-wells on Shangri-La in Side 1, the boy who would later take the alias Dallas Grenier never knew anything but chaos. His father was a drinking and ambivalent young man who hardly cared when his son was taken away by his girlfriend; Dallas was brought without conflict to his mother's native Paris at the age of 4 and served as her anchor throughout a life wrought with tension and vice. Always an adventurous, reckless, and open-hearted child, the young Parisien grew up at the heart of his mother's life of partying, prescriptions, and solicitation - and, under the impression that this was something resembling a normal life, fell into all the same traps as he grew older.
Somehow (through what he regarded throughout childhood as a guardian angel, and later learned was Newtype prowess) he was successful enough at his chosen vocations - fighting, prostitution, theft, scams, and sweet talking - to keep paying off fines for the majority of his teens, but eventually even the boy's luck ran out. He was caught and arrested less than a month before Operation British on a number of charges and, unable to pay off all his charges or talk his way out of his situation, was thrown into jail. However, a few months into the war between the Earth Federation and Side 3, he was approached in jail with what seemed like a fair proposition:
Either devote his worthless life to the Federation and be among the first testers of the Federation's jury-rigged poor man's psycommu system, or die like a rat on the off chance the next colony fell on Paris while he rotted away in jail.
With those two rosy options before him, the young con man took on the alias of Dallas Grenier for the purposes of enlisting in the Earth Federation, and found surprising success behind the cockpit of his custom GM Juggler.
Mobile Suit: RGM-79X-PT GM Juggler Custom "La Hire"
La Hire sports Dallas' own custom paint job, with electric blue armor over the alabaster frame and two black RB-79K Ball Type Ks on the shoulders. A beam-coated shield has been added for protection in an effort to protect the Juggler's reckless pilot further.
Armaments:
-60mm Vulcans
-HWF GMG·MG79-90mm Bullpup Machine Gun
-Beam-Treated FADEGEL RGM-M-Sh-003 Shield
-Newtype-Use Shoulder-Mounted Laser Remote-Controlled RB-79 Ball Type K w/Beam Rifles (x2) |
3,634 | 82 | 10 | 1,288 | 1,329 | It had evaded.
The fact was mildly perplexing, given that at this distance it was unlikely that the Zaku's pilot had seen her. Or been warned by their sensors, for that matter. Perhaps she had located one of Zeon's famous Newtypes. But that sensation... She could consider that later. The fact now was that Rebekah had lost the element of surprise. Or more accurately, considering her theory, she had never had it. That required a change in tactics.
Permitting the Zaku to get close was not in her best interest, but she could not herself attack it without getting closer while it was behind cover. She had to flush it out somehow. The GM pilot mulled over her options for a few moments, there was no need to be hasty, and settled on a possible strategy. She couldn't get a hard estimate, not at this distance, but the asteroid wasn't that big. Big enough to take cover behind comfortably, given that both a GM and Zaku had hidden behind it now, but that wasn't too large. And it wasn just rock.
After considering it a moment longer, Rebekah altered the Striker EX's aim towards the asteroid itself and fired. Then, after a moment, fired again. It wouldn't take many shots to break the asteroid up into pieces too small to effectively hide behind. Either the Zaku's pilot would duck back out into the open, to advance, find more cover, or fall back, or they would be forced out when there was no cover left. Either way, their safe haven would not be safe long.
It would have been easier to concentrate, however, if a comrade were not singing in French over the comms.
The Federation pilot sighed quietly to herself.
I wonder if Zeon has to deal with this. | Name: Rebekah Cross
Age: 19
Gender: Female
Appearance: Standing 5’10”, Rebekah Fell tends to be rather striking for a few reasons. The contrast of her pitch black hair and skin as pale as a Spacenoid that has never set foot on Earth is the first, accented by the middle ground of her gray Federation uniform. Said uniform is always immaculate and pressed, the picture of attention to detail. Her cap is always worn, as well, as it serves to conceal the fact that her hair is most definitely not regulation length. It is always tied up and concealed under her cap in public, but falls down to her waist when let loose. It is her sole deviation from protocol, and one she is oddly protective of.
She cuts a striking, unusually curvy figure though her build is downplayed by the rigid contours of the standard Federation uniform. Her posture and movements, like her demeanor, are rigid and militaristic as though she is perpetually at attention. Her featured could be considered pretty, but the effect is significantly diminished by the inscrutably cold neutrality that always adorns her features. Her violet eyes are always alert, roaming her surroundings with great intensity even when she seems (as close as she gets to) relaxed.
Origin: Earthnoid
Faction: EFSF
Newtype: Quite possibly. As an Earthnoid, Rebekah has not spent the time in space necessary to awaken any latent Newtype potential. She has however demonstrated an exceptional understanding of her position in space, even in a three-dimensional environment like space, and unusually swift reaction times. Neither necessarily guarantees Newtype potential, as both could merely be natural skill, but time in space may awaken said latent potential.
Personality: Cold. Aloof. Dispassionate. These, and other synonyms, would be the impression someone meeting Rebekah for the first time would probably give. The GM pilot is not an easy woman to get to know. Her tendency to keep everyone at arm’s length is mostly surface-deep, and anyone who spends time around her is bound to catch glimpses past it. She is highly loyal and protective to her comrades, whether she shows any sign of it or not. No one gets left behind if she can help it, and every pilot that fails to come back from a battle is a personal failing to her.
Anyone who manages to befriend her has earned a friend for life. Friendship is not something she takes lightly, and she will stop at nothing to help or protect a friend. Nothing is of higher importance. Rebekah is a warm, quirky girl with an amusing fondness for desserts if you manage to get past the surface. What she feels passionate about, be it a hobby or an ideal, she is very passionate about.
Backstory: There is little to say about Rebekah Fell’s early life. She was born to a university professor and an accountant and raised in a modest home. Her performance in school was above average, though not extremely, and she maintained a close circle of friends throughout her childhood. Her aspirations, as she aged, seemed geared mostly towards a good college education and a comfortable, albeit quiet, life. She was an avid athlete, mostly of the track and martial arts variety, but her athletics were mostly just hobbies.
The growing tensions between Earth and Side 3, and ultimately the outbreak of the One Year War, changed all of that. Though not personally affected Rebekah lost friends to Operation British and the early days of the war, as everyone did. The atrocities hardened her, and she enlisted without hesitation in the Federation’s forces when their recruitment drive began.
Rebekah was actually an early pilot of the Ball, and one of the fortunate ones who survived their time as a pilot of the spherical coffin. Her reflexes served her extremely well as the pilot of such a mobile, but poorly armored, unit. The experience carried over extremely well when she was issued an RGM-79 GM, giving her an edge that less experienced combatants lacked. As time marched on, and variations of the base GM were developed, Rebekah began to specialize into units that would maximize her maneuverability and firepower, usually at the detriment of armor. While many struggled with such suits, her time in the Ball proved invaluable. The culmination of this is her Striker EX, customized slightly to suit her needs, a unit that she is quite affectionate towards.
Other Info: Born UC 0060, O- blood type, maintains an extensive personal collection of movies and television to watch in her quarters.
Mobile Suit Info:
RGM-79-FP-S1 GM Striker EX
Weapons/Equipment:
-2x 60mm Vulcans
-Beam Saber
-AE/ZIM.HK Type-4 Heat knife
-YHI RAQ-SS-Wp Sashot Anchor: Arm-mounted launcher intended to embed its spike in a target (enemy unit, enemy ship, asteroid, etc) attached to a long metal retractable cable. Mounted on the right arm.
-YHI 1GL-84SB Grenade Launcher Anchor: Sidearm that launches explosive spikes that embed in the target before exploding.
-L9 Type Beam Rifle: Long range beam rifle with fold-out bipod. Mounted horizontally on the back in place of a second knife.
-BOWA BR-M-84H-H-4 Type Beam Rifle: Handheld, primary weapon.
-RGM*S-Sh-WF/S-00109 (Renpou GUNDAM Mass-produced Small Shield: Shield taken from ground-use GMs, stock save for beam coating added for Rebekah’s use. Mounted on left forearm.
-Thermal Visor: Thermal imaging system mounted on, and deployable from, the forehead.
The GM Striker EX, nicknamed Metal Spider by some due to its thermal visor, is a general use custom mobile suit created from the ground-use, close-combat-oriented GM Striker. The Striker EX features additional thrusters that allow for extremely high acceleration at the cost of armor and ballistic protection. The Striker EX, as used by Rebekah Fell, is a high-mobility assault unit oriented towards mid-to-long range engagement. Though capable in close combat, it is meant to avoid it; due to its light armor any strike in close combat is likely to be critical, and strikes cannot be easily avoided in close quarters. |
3,635 | 82 | 11 | 511 | 3,294 | Ah, a reaction...friendlies? She muttered to herself as she peeled across the debris, the heavily modified Thunderbolt Sector RGM-79 skirting disaster as she wove between the thick spires of material jutting out from the debris she was flying through. The verniers jetted every now and then as Roan readjusted her course, her impeccable spatial awareness helping her avoid the sometimes hidden obstacles that would appear from the void as shadows revealed by the sharp contrast of light. Looking down momentarily and back at the Gouf, she heard the Zudah's pilot screaming over the comm before the two Zeon mobile suits moved in for a collision course, giving her enough time to escape. "I don't want any part of that issue, you two go work it out while I vacate the office."
All the talk about voices made her skin crawl. Roan had heard mutterings of her being a 'Newtype,' but the most that she had ever exhibited was an extremely high level of spatial perception and awareness. Listening to the calls of thousands, or even the voices of the dead being projected into her head? Never.
There was that annoying buzzing that she got, but the pilot usually attributed that to the same sort of tiredness she experienced when listening to her commanding officer trying to give pep talks. He never went out on sortie, so she never paid him much mind.
Roan emerged from the section of shattered colony, moving a decent length away from her quarreling adversaries before she caught sight of another GM from her section being obliterated by a dark blue Zaku I, a type she had never encountered before. Fumbling a little before muttering under her breath about wasted opportunities and horrible timing, she brought up her remaining shields, using the sub-arms to cover her flank. Her sensors picked up a fourth GM, this one eager to grapple with the navy-colored mobile suit. It was a highly experimental type she had only seen once, but found utterly ridiculous: The Juggler, a GM equipped with two Ball units that had beam rifles bolted to them in an attempt to mimic Zeon's Newtype machines.
The third GM she had picked up was another type entirely, a far-advanced variant which put her unit to shame. Dark in color, with a four-eyed visor glowing eerily in the void, she had heard of its existence but knew very few that actually roamed the battlefields. In comparison, despite her skills, she was a rank novice compared to whoever piloted them. An asteroid erupted with violent explosions and uplifting debris as she assumed the GM decided to take refuge among the field of space rock formed by its demise. Still, she kept her shields up to protect her unit, gunning towards the asteroid's remnants in an attempt to make contact.
Now if only the singer would shut up. | Name: Brizo Badamish
Age: 17
Gender: Female
Appearance:
Origin: Spacenoid
Faction: Flanagan Institute, Principality of Zeon
Newtype: Yes
Personality: First glance, total doormat. Like, if you were to swagger up to the door of somebody's house and look down, Brizo Badamish would be lying flat on the ground, completely uncaring even if you decided to wipe your shoes on her back. Tell her to jump, and she'd jump. Tell her to steal some files from your rival scientist's office, and she'll work as your resident gopher for less than minimum wage. She doesn't protest at all.
Actually, all of that's a lie.
Brizo Badamish is a pretty intelligent and helpful person, correct. That's less because she'll let anybody walk over her, but because she really doesn't like sticking her head out and getting bothered for little things. It isn't a massive fuss if someone wants her to grab them a coffee, but it gets real tiresome if she's lying aorund and a scientist berates her for not doing any work. Besides, she likes work, whether it be doing odd jobs or piloting a giant robot; it takes her mind off things and is generally pretty relaxing.
She's sorta airheaded in that regard, but despite that she's actually pretty good at what she does (even if it looks like she's half-arsing it).
On a personal level, Brizo actually has a sense of humour. She likes jokes, no matter how shitty they may be, and will casually share them if you ever feel like asking. Her hobbies actually include hitting the joke books for them, as well as watching cartoons (the other kids at the orphanage always hogged the single cathode-ray television they managed to salvage). She is a bit eccentric though when you interact with her (hence the airhead label), and at times may be innocently insulting (that might be a lie, nobody actually knows if she's fucking with us yet). However, she's a solid pal, but if she does find things to be overly tiring or fussy, expect complaints and grumbling.
She has a reasonably screwed-on set of morals too.
Backstory: A native of Side 3, Brizo Badamish spent her formative years under the rule of the Republic of Zeon (and later, Principality) without parents, instead growing up under the care of a local orphanage. During this time, she began to manifest signs of Newtype potential, and was soon recruited into the fledgling Flanagan Institute by the age of ten as a test subject. However, with the addition of more skilled and more powerful subjects, her duties soon became far more mundane, such as acting as a gopher for the scientists or background filler for her more special compatriots' flashback scenes.
And that may have been her eventual fate, as another forgettable Newtype, had she not been assigned to test the Institute's Newtype weapons.
Indeed, Brizo quickly displayed signs of impressive piloting skills (helped along by reading the gigantic instruction manuals beforehand), and the Institute realised that they could make better use of her by shoving her into whatever mobile suit or mobile armor of the week they had developed to see how things worked. It was a pretty good deal for her, especially with the increased food allocation and whatnot, and so she continued to familiarise herself with the machines (and growing slightly attached to her favourite, the Brawrello).
Flanagan's also lending her out to the Zeon space forces for more data these days, hence why you can see her hanging around.
Other: She's voiced by Minori Chihara.
---
MOBILE WEAPON
MS-11 ACT ZAKU
Unit type: mass production general purpose mobile suit
Armor materials: super hard steel alloy
Powerplant: Minovsky type ultracompact fusion reactor, output rated at 1440 kW
Propulsion: rocket thrusters: total output 64800 kg
Equipment and design features: sensors, range 3600 meters; magnetic coated joints
Armaments: beam rifle, power by rechargeable energy cap; machine gun; bullpup gun; heat hawk; heat saber x 2
MAN-00X-2 BRAWRELLO
Unit type: prototype Newtype use mobile armor
Equipment: psycommu system
Armaments: wired mega particle cannon x 2, wired heat claw x 2, diffuse mega particle cannon x 1, quadruple missile launcher x 2 |
3,636 | 82 | 12 | 1,288 | 1,329 | The beam lancing across the void was painfully bright so close to the Striker, but in Rebekah's opinion that was more of a feature than a flaw. It wasn't so bright as to be blinding, but bright enough that you were never going to miss it. Even if it did leave spots in your eyes if it was too close. In this case, though, she didn't bother dodging; she had set up her shield for just this reason, and she used the extra time to observe where the enemy Zaku went and consider what she would do.
Unfortunately, her strategy to flush the enemy unit out only half worked. There were too many places to take cover. Even with her surplus of beam weapons she couldn't destroy all of them. Even if she didn't run out of energy (which she would), it would still take far too long. Her enemy seemed to be intent on avoiding any direct engagements, and she wasn't going to be able to force the issue.
So, instead, she would have to figure out a counter.
The anchor holding her to the asteroid retracted, and her GM pushed off using its thrusters on low power to send her drifting towards another asteroid. She took a single shot at the Zaku's new hiding place before she departed, but focused on maneuvering after that. The Striker's colors helped it remain unseen, and she hoped that using her thrusters minimally would help mask her position. Once she had ducked behind the next asteroid she repeated the process, aiming to maneuver into a position from which she could fire around the cover protecting her foe.
If the enemy wanted to make this a hit and run fight, she would oblige. | Name: Rebekah Cross
Age: 19
Gender: Female
Appearance: Standing 5’10”, Rebekah Fell tends to be rather striking for a few reasons. The contrast of her pitch black hair and skin as pale as a Spacenoid that has never set foot on Earth is the first, accented by the middle ground of her gray Federation uniform. Said uniform is always immaculate and pressed, the picture of attention to detail. Her cap is always worn, as well, as it serves to conceal the fact that her hair is most definitely not regulation length. It is always tied up and concealed under her cap in public, but falls down to her waist when let loose. It is her sole deviation from protocol, and one she is oddly protective of.
She cuts a striking, unusually curvy figure though her build is downplayed by the rigid contours of the standard Federation uniform. Her posture and movements, like her demeanor, are rigid and militaristic as though she is perpetually at attention. Her featured could be considered pretty, but the effect is significantly diminished by the inscrutably cold neutrality that always adorns her features. Her violet eyes are always alert, roaming her surroundings with great intensity even when she seems (as close as she gets to) relaxed.
Origin: Earthnoid
Faction: EFSF
Newtype: Quite possibly. As an Earthnoid, Rebekah has not spent the time in space necessary to awaken any latent Newtype potential. She has however demonstrated an exceptional understanding of her position in space, even in a three-dimensional environment like space, and unusually swift reaction times. Neither necessarily guarantees Newtype potential, as both could merely be natural skill, but time in space may awaken said latent potential.
Personality: Cold. Aloof. Dispassionate. These, and other synonyms, would be the impression someone meeting Rebekah for the first time would probably give. The GM pilot is not an easy woman to get to know. Her tendency to keep everyone at arm’s length is mostly surface-deep, and anyone who spends time around her is bound to catch glimpses past it. She is highly loyal and protective to her comrades, whether she shows any sign of it or not. No one gets left behind if she can help it, and every pilot that fails to come back from a battle is a personal failing to her.
Anyone who manages to befriend her has earned a friend for life. Friendship is not something she takes lightly, and she will stop at nothing to help or protect a friend. Nothing is of higher importance. Rebekah is a warm, quirky girl with an amusing fondness for desserts if you manage to get past the surface. What she feels passionate about, be it a hobby or an ideal, she is very passionate about.
Backstory: There is little to say about Rebekah Fell’s early life. She was born to a university professor and an accountant and raised in a modest home. Her performance in school was above average, though not extremely, and she maintained a close circle of friends throughout her childhood. Her aspirations, as she aged, seemed geared mostly towards a good college education and a comfortable, albeit quiet, life. She was an avid athlete, mostly of the track and martial arts variety, but her athletics were mostly just hobbies.
The growing tensions between Earth and Side 3, and ultimately the outbreak of the One Year War, changed all of that. Though not personally affected Rebekah lost friends to Operation British and the early days of the war, as everyone did. The atrocities hardened her, and she enlisted without hesitation in the Federation’s forces when their recruitment drive began.
Rebekah was actually an early pilot of the Ball, and one of the fortunate ones who survived their time as a pilot of the spherical coffin. Her reflexes served her extremely well as the pilot of such a mobile, but poorly armored, unit. The experience carried over extremely well when she was issued an RGM-79 GM, giving her an edge that less experienced combatants lacked. As time marched on, and variations of the base GM were developed, Rebekah began to specialize into units that would maximize her maneuverability and firepower, usually at the detriment of armor. While many struggled with such suits, her time in the Ball proved invaluable. The culmination of this is her Striker EX, customized slightly to suit her needs, a unit that she is quite affectionate towards.
Other Info: Born UC 0060, O- blood type, maintains an extensive personal collection of movies and television to watch in her quarters.
Mobile Suit Info:
RGM-79-FP-S1 GM Striker EX
Weapons/Equipment:
-2x 60mm Vulcans
-Beam Saber
-AE/ZIM.HK Type-4 Heat knife
-YHI RAQ-SS-Wp Sashot Anchor: Arm-mounted launcher intended to embed its spike in a target (enemy unit, enemy ship, asteroid, etc) attached to a long metal retractable cable. Mounted on the right arm.
-YHI 1GL-84SB Grenade Launcher Anchor: Sidearm that launches explosive spikes that embed in the target before exploding.
-L9 Type Beam Rifle: Long range beam rifle with fold-out bipod. Mounted horizontally on the back in place of a second knife.
-BOWA BR-M-84H-H-4 Type Beam Rifle: Handheld, primary weapon.
-RGM*S-Sh-WF/S-00109 (Renpou GUNDAM Mass-produced Small Shield: Shield taken from ground-use GMs, stock save for beam coating added for Rebekah’s use. Mounted on left forearm.
-Thermal Visor: Thermal imaging system mounted on, and deployable from, the forehead.
The GM Striker EX, nicknamed Metal Spider by some due to its thermal visor, is a general use custom mobile suit created from the ground-use, close-combat-oriented GM Striker. The Striker EX features additional thrusters that allow for extremely high acceleration at the cost of armor and ballistic protection. The Striker EX, as used by Rebekah Fell, is a high-mobility assault unit oriented towards mid-to-long range engagement. Though capable in close combat, it is meant to avoid it; due to its light armor any strike in close combat is likely to be critical, and strikes cannot be easily avoided in close quarters. |
3,637 | 82 | 13 | 2,325 | 2,408 | Levi took deep breaths her charge stopped midway. While she did end up colliding with the suit she stopped all the less what reason was she fighting? To end the pain? Yet it was only a brief solution at best. Though it seems that despite the battle going on things was going to change just not the way people thought. As she was thinking about it the battle around them suddenly stopped as Zeon was forced to retreat due to something that happened on the ground. With their hasty retreat they in the long run left some pilots and the like behind this was nothing new it was war and as such mistakes are made and in rush and the turmoil of battle. This was no difference. The few people in the space battle left behind in the turmoil that was the aftermath. Yet it was not just one side that made the mistake in the long the vaunted EFSF with their quick advancements in face of adversary was just as prone to making mistakes. Like human debris they were left behind pilots on both side who fought and bleed for their goals left nothing more as debris littering the scape. | Name: Roan Oakley
Age: 18
Gender: Female
Appearance: Roan is roughly 5'9", enough to be considered on the taller end of the spectrum, but her figure is very unremarkable with little curves, though in uniform her slight bottom-heaviness is more easily noted. Her is made out into a mane of gentle spikes, edged like waves, and colored a light blond that fades to a pale platinum at the ends. Her eyes are ringed a little, and some say it's from lack of sleep, but the green orbs are always alert and searching no matter what her expression may look like. Her shoulders droop often and she seems the exact opposite of what a lot of Federation pilots are supposed to be, but her skill should not be judged on appearances alone.
Origin: Roan is considered an oddity, because her birth certificate actually lists her as coming from the space colony Londonian whereas her place of residence, until her induction into the military, was a relatively small city far removed from most other Federation operations. As such, Roan and the populace have an abject view of the issues that have been plaguing the colonies and the Federation as a whole, having not relied on the Federation or too much more than the local government for much in years. The rumor is, and the one she doesn't try to wave away, is that her parents brought her down from the colonies so she wouldn't be referred to as a 'Spacenoid' or be treated as someone from the space colonies. This has not been entirely avoided however, as it shows up on her records whenever she transfers units.
Faction: Currently aligned with the Federation, as part of its EFSF mobile suit divisions.
Newtype: Possible yes. She has exhibited a much higher level of 3D spatial awareness than most candidates, allowing her to 'think' in 3D and plan accordingly.
Personality: The best old age word that could be used to describe her is 'hick.' Not in the way of the Old South in what used to be America, but instead to refer to someone that is insular or uninformed. Roan is known to not particularly care about the Federation's interests, nor the entirety of the conflict with Zeon during the One Year War, and is often mocked and derided for not buying into the whole patriot aspect of the military. In fact, she is oftentimes suggested to be a spy with her aloof attitude and apathetic expression, using her colony heritage against her whenever she fails to respond appropriately. Most of this however rolls off of her shoulders as she's not in it for the patriotism or glory, but more to find herself and understand what's going on outside the sphere of her hometown. This is not to say she's completely uneducated; in fact, so far as academics go, she's fairly top-notch.
Backstory: Having grown up in what could be considered a future-type backwoods city, a modern era center where most everything was up to date and yet kept away from the conflict overtaking the rest of the Earth Federation's known holdings, Roan could've been considered a bit sheltered compared to most of the Federation's enlisted personnel. She knew relatively little of the Federation's stance against Zeon and of Zeon's intentions, but it wasn't due to completely willful ignorance. Having seen mobile suit combat on the news feed and seen what took place between the two factions, she decided to broaden her horizon by moving to the place where raw, human emotion and the passionate wills of the people existed, perhaps even twisted to be unrecognizable, and to experience what had been going on herself. Her upbringing and file almost had her canned as a ground troop, an easy sacrifice for the cause, but her skill, intelligence, and fast reflexes quickly forced the Federation to preclude her from fodder. The academy, though rife with bullying, threats, and overall prejudice towards her birth status and her upbringing in the furthest place from the frontlines besides the bourgeois, was the proper kind of challenge for her to try and extend her skillset. Thus, she found during mobile suit simulated exercises and tactical analyses classes that her perception as a whole was much greater than the average person, and on a level above those who had a good grasp of awareness above them. Despite her spacey attitude, this earned her the grudging respect of some of her fellow pilot trainees, and lead to early success in her initial combat sorties. The horrors of war have reached her, but she doesn't lock them away. She prefers to ruminate on them and mourn quietly, lest the bloodbath and madness suck her in.
Other Info: Not a sweets person, but loves fish and fruit. Fish and chips is her favorite ration meal. Writes in her spare time. Doodles in the same notebook. Listens to a variety of music. Can be found in time between sorties on the observation decks, gazing into space.
RGM-79 GM, specifically a model used in the Thunderbolt Sector. Equipped with a Core Block system, and can be fashioned with a thruster pack equipped with two sub arms which are generally used to hold a pair of shields, a double-barreled beam weapon, and the standard issue beam spray gun.
Lately, it seems she's been trying to add different weapons to her arsenal and tactics. Chaff and minovsky particle dispersal have been one set of unusual equipment she's attempted to have applied, as well as small missile or rocket packs or an extra beam spray gun. |
3,638 | 82 | 14 | 1,525 | 524 | The pilot took a few to regain her breaths. Valretha stopped the collision on mere yards away from the other suit. She felt large amounts of presence disappear from around her as there were only scattered people remaining. She had limited anounts of propellant and life support and with her support ships gone, she was as good as dead.
Realizing this, she took several more deep breaths and looked at the gouf. "I need to get to the comms of the colony... They should be able to push through the minovsky particles here... Can you help me get there and cover me? You can feel it as well as i can... So many are just moving away from us... Our ships are gone. We're dead unless we get as many people as we can to work together..." Said the female as she pointed out the station chunk on her nav comm unit. | Name:Valretha
Age: 16
Gender: Female
5ft 4in 170 lbs, seen wearing standard issue zeon pilot garb outside of a normal suit.
Origin: Spacenoid
Faction: Zeon
Newtype: Yes
Personality: Whiel having several ideals that let her align with Zeon, the girl is only truly loyal to herself and those that prove to show their worth and trust. Not against fighting, the girl herself is demanding professionally but friendly and somewhat laid back when with friends. Trust is something that is definitely earned as her childhood
Backstory: Born and raised in side three, her parents were skeptical believers in Deikum's philosophies. Upon his death, they paid their respects at his funeral parade. unfortunately, they were also next to Dozle's car when the bomb that killed his brother went off. Just before that, something had told her to itch her ankle. She ducked down and was consequently blown over from the explosion. her ears were ringing loudly. Getting back up. she found her parents were both on the ground, people around her were screaming. Her parents had been blunt to say the least, so she knew what death was despite being five years old. The next three years were a blur to her, but she wound up with support from Dozle, who had seen her that day after his rage had subsided and took pity on the girl.
She was fiercely independent and Dozle took on a more uncle like role to her. He'd support her and get her nannies and tutors to raise and school her, but never fully adopted the girl. When she was able to, she joined the military and quickly found herself piloting starfighters for a short while before winding up inside of an MS. Not without a a bit of preferential treatment from Dozle to try and keep the scarred girl off the front lines, he let her take up a spot in an experimental division known as NTZ. This has brought her around the sides, traveling to test different types of mobile suits before the division was finally called to war.
Other Info:
A strong and potent newtype, she only has stayed out of the hands of the development of newtype and newtype weaponry by Dozle. To this point, she is fearful of those in zeon taking her if anything were to happen to him.
Mobile Suit Info:
EMS-07 ZUDAH PEregrinus
Modified to have a 210 mm rifle for long distance shooting. Carries a heat hawk and the engine has been overhauled to have the saturn defect removed. has in atomosphere flight capabilities and is more agile die to several reduction in armor weight. |
3,639 | 82 | 15 | 511 | 3,294 | BRIZO BADAMISH
The attack from her enemy rocked the asteroid that was her new cover (this one a younger rock that had once been held down by Earth's gravity in its earlier days), but that was it. There was no follow-through for a noticeable second, before another blast slammed straight into the asteroid, this time coming from another angle. So the Feddie was going for a hit and run of their own then. Brizo allowed her senses to expand. She could deal with that.
She couldn't see the edgy GM well, but no matter how much they limited their thruster activity, she'd know the general area where she was supposed to point her gun. Maybe not the exact position, but she wasn't going to rely on her Act Zaku for that. After all, she was a Flanagan Institute minion, and that meant she had a few tricks up her sleeve that would help her with this little game of hide and seek.
There.
Her Zaku immediately fired a beam towards her enemy's position, before she once more darted away from cover, breaking for another asteroid to hide around. All the rubble was especially convenient for her. It definitely rocked, ohohoh. That was a relaxing little joke. She decided that she would tell it to her future first friend if they were ever to hang around in an asteroid field.
Right now though, she needed to get rid of this GM. | Name: Brizo Badamish
Age: 17
Gender: Female
Appearance:
Origin: Spacenoid
Faction: Flanagan Institute, Principality of Zeon
Newtype: Yes
Personality: First glance, total doormat. Like, if you were to swagger up to the door of somebody's house and look down, Brizo Badamish would be lying flat on the ground, completely uncaring even if you decided to wipe your shoes on her back. Tell her to jump, and she'd jump. Tell her to steal some files from your rival scientist's office, and she'll work as your resident gopher for less than minimum wage. She doesn't protest at all.
Actually, all of that's a lie.
Brizo Badamish is a pretty intelligent and helpful person, correct. That's less because she'll let anybody walk over her, but because she really doesn't like sticking her head out and getting bothered for little things. It isn't a massive fuss if someone wants her to grab them a coffee, but it gets real tiresome if she's lying aorund and a scientist berates her for not doing any work. Besides, she likes work, whether it be doing odd jobs or piloting a giant robot; it takes her mind off things and is generally pretty relaxing.
She's sorta airheaded in that regard, but despite that she's actually pretty good at what she does (even if it looks like she's half-arsing it).
On a personal level, Brizo actually has a sense of humour. She likes jokes, no matter how shitty they may be, and will casually share them if you ever feel like asking. Her hobbies actually include hitting the joke books for them, as well as watching cartoons (the other kids at the orphanage always hogged the single cathode-ray television they managed to salvage). She is a bit eccentric though when you interact with her (hence the airhead label), and at times may be innocently insulting (that might be a lie, nobody actually knows if she's fucking with us yet). However, she's a solid pal, but if she does find things to be overly tiring or fussy, expect complaints and grumbling.
She has a reasonably screwed-on set of morals too.
Backstory: A native of Side 3, Brizo Badamish spent her formative years under the rule of the Republic of Zeon (and later, Principality) without parents, instead growing up under the care of a local orphanage. During this time, she began to manifest signs of Newtype potential, and was soon recruited into the fledgling Flanagan Institute by the age of ten as a test subject. However, with the addition of more skilled and more powerful subjects, her duties soon became far more mundane, such as acting as a gopher for the scientists or background filler for her more special compatriots' flashback scenes.
And that may have been her eventual fate, as another forgettable Newtype, had she not been assigned to test the Institute's Newtype weapons.
Indeed, Brizo quickly displayed signs of impressive piloting skills (helped along by reading the gigantic instruction manuals beforehand), and the Institute realised that they could make better use of her by shoving her into whatever mobile suit or mobile armor of the week they had developed to see how things worked. It was a pretty good deal for her, especially with the increased food allocation and whatnot, and so she continued to familiarise herself with the machines (and growing slightly attached to her favourite, the Brawrello).
Flanagan's also lending her out to the Zeon space forces for more data these days, hence why you can see her hanging around.
Other: She's voiced by Minori Chihara.
---
MOBILE WEAPON
MS-11 ACT ZAKU
Unit type: mass production general purpose mobile suit
Armor materials: super hard steel alloy
Powerplant: Minovsky type ultracompact fusion reactor, output rated at 1440 kW
Propulsion: rocket thrusters: total output 64800 kg
Equipment and design features: sensors, range 3600 meters; magnetic coated joints
Armaments: beam rifle, power by rechargeable energy cap; machine gun; bullpup gun; heat hawk; heat saber x 2
MAN-00X-2 BRAWRELLO
Unit type: prototype Newtype use mobile armor
Equipment: psycommu system
Armaments: wired mega particle cannon x 2, wired heat claw x 2, diffuse mega particle cannon x 1, quadruple missile launcher x 2 |
3,640 | 82 | 16 | 1,288 | 1,329 | A pilot's instincts were critical. Often there wasn't time to think out a reaction, you just had to act. Appropriate responses needed to become more than thought, they needed to be reflex. Practice, and lots of it, could help make up the difference but there just was no substitute for a pilot's gut instinct. It was the little voice in the back of your head that told you something was off even if you didn't know why. It had saved Rebekah more times than she could count.
Even so, exactly what caused her to dart sideways abruptly she couldn't be sure. The incoming beam passed through the space she had previously occupied, something that might have been fatal.
Not that there was time to think about it. Given that her little attempt to be stealthy had been a failure, she decided to abandon that plan. The Striker took up a position behind an asteroid, the cover giving her a few moments to think. Rebekah bit her lip in thought, mulling over her options. Closing to close range was risky, but there was little chance that she could inflict any damage from long range. Not by herself. So if she wanted to mitigate the risk...
...
The pilot bit her lip harder and opened a comm channel.
"Frenchman, if you have nothing better to do, some aid would be appreciated." The Striker pilot tried not to sound irritated, but she couldn't entirely keep the sound out of her voice. "Those Balls could be more useful doing something instead of just hanging there. There is what appears to be a Zaky variant hiding out in these asteroids." | Name: Rebekah Cross
Age: 19
Gender: Female
Appearance: Standing 5’10”, Rebekah Fell tends to be rather striking for a few reasons. The contrast of her pitch black hair and skin as pale as a Spacenoid that has never set foot on Earth is the first, accented by the middle ground of her gray Federation uniform. Said uniform is always immaculate and pressed, the picture of attention to detail. Her cap is always worn, as well, as it serves to conceal the fact that her hair is most definitely not regulation length. It is always tied up and concealed under her cap in public, but falls down to her waist when let loose. It is her sole deviation from protocol, and one she is oddly protective of.
She cuts a striking, unusually curvy figure though her build is downplayed by the rigid contours of the standard Federation uniform. Her posture and movements, like her demeanor, are rigid and militaristic as though she is perpetually at attention. Her featured could be considered pretty, but the effect is significantly diminished by the inscrutably cold neutrality that always adorns her features. Her violet eyes are always alert, roaming her surroundings with great intensity even when she seems (as close as she gets to) relaxed.
Origin: Earthnoid
Faction: EFSF
Newtype: Quite possibly. As an Earthnoid, Rebekah has not spent the time in space necessary to awaken any latent Newtype potential. She has however demonstrated an exceptional understanding of her position in space, even in a three-dimensional environment like space, and unusually swift reaction times. Neither necessarily guarantees Newtype potential, as both could merely be natural skill, but time in space may awaken said latent potential.
Personality: Cold. Aloof. Dispassionate. These, and other synonyms, would be the impression someone meeting Rebekah for the first time would probably give. The GM pilot is not an easy woman to get to know. Her tendency to keep everyone at arm’s length is mostly surface-deep, and anyone who spends time around her is bound to catch glimpses past it. She is highly loyal and protective to her comrades, whether she shows any sign of it or not. No one gets left behind if she can help it, and every pilot that fails to come back from a battle is a personal failing to her.
Anyone who manages to befriend her has earned a friend for life. Friendship is not something she takes lightly, and she will stop at nothing to help or protect a friend. Nothing is of higher importance. Rebekah is a warm, quirky girl with an amusing fondness for desserts if you manage to get past the surface. What she feels passionate about, be it a hobby or an ideal, she is very passionate about.
Backstory: There is little to say about Rebekah Fell’s early life. She was born to a university professor and an accountant and raised in a modest home. Her performance in school was above average, though not extremely, and she maintained a close circle of friends throughout her childhood. Her aspirations, as she aged, seemed geared mostly towards a good college education and a comfortable, albeit quiet, life. She was an avid athlete, mostly of the track and martial arts variety, but her athletics were mostly just hobbies.
The growing tensions between Earth and Side 3, and ultimately the outbreak of the One Year War, changed all of that. Though not personally affected Rebekah lost friends to Operation British and the early days of the war, as everyone did. The atrocities hardened her, and she enlisted without hesitation in the Federation’s forces when their recruitment drive began.
Rebekah was actually an early pilot of the Ball, and one of the fortunate ones who survived their time as a pilot of the spherical coffin. Her reflexes served her extremely well as the pilot of such a mobile, but poorly armored, unit. The experience carried over extremely well when she was issued an RGM-79 GM, giving her an edge that less experienced combatants lacked. As time marched on, and variations of the base GM were developed, Rebekah began to specialize into units that would maximize her maneuverability and firepower, usually at the detriment of armor. While many struggled with such suits, her time in the Ball proved invaluable. The culmination of this is her Striker EX, customized slightly to suit her needs, a unit that she is quite affectionate towards.
Other Info: Born UC 0060, O- blood type, maintains an extensive personal collection of movies and television to watch in her quarters.
Mobile Suit Info:
RGM-79-FP-S1 GM Striker EX
Weapons/Equipment:
-2x 60mm Vulcans
-Beam Saber
-AE/ZIM.HK Type-4 Heat knife
-YHI RAQ-SS-Wp Sashot Anchor: Arm-mounted launcher intended to embed its spike in a target (enemy unit, enemy ship, asteroid, etc) attached to a long metal retractable cable. Mounted on the right arm.
-YHI 1GL-84SB Grenade Launcher Anchor: Sidearm that launches explosive spikes that embed in the target before exploding.
-L9 Type Beam Rifle: Long range beam rifle with fold-out bipod. Mounted horizontally on the back in place of a second knife.
-BOWA BR-M-84H-H-4 Type Beam Rifle: Handheld, primary weapon.
-RGM*S-Sh-WF/S-00109 (Renpou GUNDAM Mass-produced Small Shield: Shield taken from ground-use GMs, stock save for beam coating added for Rebekah’s use. Mounted on left forearm.
-Thermal Visor: Thermal imaging system mounted on, and deployable from, the forehead.
The GM Striker EX, nicknamed Metal Spider by some due to its thermal visor, is a general use custom mobile suit created from the ground-use, close-combat-oriented GM Striker. The Striker EX features additional thrusters that allow for extremely high acceleration at the cost of armor and ballistic protection. The Striker EX, as used by Rebekah Fell, is a high-mobility assault unit oriented towards mid-to-long range engagement. Though capable in close combat, it is meant to avoid it; due to its light armor any strike in close combat is likely to be critical, and strikes cannot be easily avoided in close quarters. |
3,641 | 82 | 17 | 1,826 | 1,162 | "S'ils tombent, nos jeunes héros - la terre en pr--"
"Frenchman, if you have nothing better to do, some aid would be appreciated."
Oho! My second favorite sentence!
"Those Balls could be more useful doing something instead of just hanging there."
OHO! My favorite sentence!
Floating not too far away from the corpse of another Zaku variant, Dallas finally allowed his singing to taper down into a whisper, and then cease entirely. The mobile suit pilot that had just requisitioned his help sounded positively scornful, and what's more, she seemed completely tone deaf to the possible innuendo laced into her own words. He couldn't even pretend to hear the faintest hint of fun in her voice. Something made him doubt it had ever been there in her life.
The thought was exciting enough to make him grin.
There was nothing in the world that made him happier than satisfying an aloof woman.
"Sure."
There. Nice and to the point. He didn't have to give her a headache.
"But when this is over, and you're alive because of me, I'm gonna want your name, doll."
But he wanted to.
Nonetheless, Dallas released his Balls, both pods maneuvering deftly through the asteroid field and scanning for the Zaku in question. | Name: Dallas Matthieu Renatus Grenier ("Dal," "Dally," "Matty Magnum," "The Sundance Kid," "Arc de Triunffffff")
Age: 19
Appearance:
Origin: Colonies, with Parisien upbringing
Faction: EFSF
Newtype: Yes.
Personality: Though not a dyed-in-the-wool Zeon lover by any means, Dallas isn't exactly a "truth, justice, and kissing babies on the head" kind of war hero - nor is he a brooding wreck who sobs about the lives he's taken whenever he leaves the cockpit . Rather, his personality flaws all lay in his poor attitude in general. Intentionally needling, irreverent, and quick to anger, the mercurial young man loves to pout and roll his eyes with aplomb, and his Cheshire grin is just as often intended to make someone else roll their eyes right back at him. He's not without his vanity either, often going out of his way to emphasize his own attractiveness or flirt with others. Noted pansexual.
Despite his love of being the bad boy, the French brat has a heart of gold somewhere underneath the jackassery. Bold and fearless to a fault, his incessant need to talk often belies his Newtype prowess, superb oratory skills and a creative mind. It's not rare for you to shut Dallas up only to find yourself thinking later on how there were some good ideas underneath the stream of jokes, come-ons, and curses.
Backstory: Born to a pair of ne'er-do-wells on Shangri-La in Side 1, the boy who would later take the alias Dallas Grenier never knew anything but chaos. His father was a drinking and ambivalent young man who hardly cared when his son was taken away by his girlfriend; Dallas was brought without conflict to his mother's native Paris at the age of 4 and served as her anchor throughout a life wrought with tension and vice. Always an adventurous, reckless, and open-hearted child, the young Parisien grew up at the heart of his mother's life of partying, prescriptions, and solicitation - and, under the impression that this was something resembling a normal life, fell into all the same traps as he grew older.
Somehow (through what he regarded throughout childhood as a guardian angel, and later learned was Newtype prowess) he was successful enough at his chosen vocations - fighting, prostitution, theft, scams, and sweet talking - to keep paying off fines for the majority of his teens, but eventually even the boy's luck ran out. He was caught and arrested less than a month before Operation British on a number of charges and, unable to pay off all his charges or talk his way out of his situation, was thrown into jail. However, a few months into the war between the Earth Federation and Side 3, he was approached in jail with what seemed like a fair proposition:
Either devote his worthless life to the Federation and be among the first testers of the Federation's jury-rigged poor man's psycommu system, or die like a rat on the off chance the next colony fell on Paris while he rotted away in jail.
With those two rosy options before him, the young con man took on the alias of Dallas Grenier for the purposes of enlisting in the Earth Federation, and found surprising success behind the cockpit of his custom GM Juggler.
Mobile Suit: RGM-79X-PT GM Juggler Custom "La Hire"
La Hire sports Dallas' own custom paint job, with electric blue armor over the alabaster frame and two black RB-79K Ball Type Ks on the shoulders. A beam-coated shield has been added for protection in an effort to protect the Juggler's reckless pilot further.
Armaments:
-60mm Vulcans
-HWF GMG·MG79-90mm Bullpup Machine Gun
-Beam-Treated FADEGEL RGM-M-Sh-003 Shield
-Newtype-Use Shoulder-Mounted Laser Remote-Controlled RB-79 Ball Type K w/Beam Rifles (x2) |
3,642 | 82 | 18 | 1,288 | 1,329 | My survival was never in doubt.
The Frenchmn was trying to rile her up. That was fine. Such people were common, and such efforts were just as common. As long as he was providing the cover she needed he could entertain himself all he wanted. If anything his attempts to aggravate her only added fuel to the fire. Having lost the disconnect that long range combat provided her heart was beginning to pound, the adrenaline beginning to seep out and course through her veins.
Her foe was a Newtype, this she knew for sure. It was the only explanation for their ability to react almost before an attack occurred, and it explained their mobile suit. Despite its appearance Rebekah doubted it had much in common with a mass-production Zaku at all. That left no room to hold back. She flicked a switch on her controls causing her GM to release the clamps securing her other rifle to its back, then she casually tossed her long-range rifle towards the Frenchman's Juggler. It drifted through space towards the other GM while the Striker grabbed its other rifle and readied it. In the cockpit Rebekah unbuckled her helmet, securing it under her seat and pulling out her hair tie. She pushed her hair back with one hand and loosened the tight-fitting collar of her normal suit with the other, rolling her head and feeling the satisfying pop of vertebrae.
"Lieutenant Junior Grade, Rebekah Fell. Take that rifle and make yourself useful. It will be more useful than that peashooter you are using."
Her chest pushed out with a deep inhalation, the relaxing exercise at odds with the energetic edge that had begun to creep into her voice. She needed to be focused. Being close to the fighting was different from sniping at a distance. It required a different level of preparation. She needed the adrenaline pumping through every cell of her body, expanding her consciousness to fill every fiber of her being. Thought became action effortlessly. The Metal Spider needed to move like an extension of her body.
She slammed on the thrusters as her eyes snapped open, violet eyes seeming to flash in time with violet visor. The Striker slammed its palm onto the asteroid, pushing it down and the GM up while the potent thrusters on its back sent it rocketing forward flanked by the two Type Ks. This wasn't like before, either; Rebekah wasn't hiding. The Striker was moving, and moving fast. Far faster than any other GM could manage. She moved in zig-zag motions, pushing off of the larger asteroids in her path with the Striker's foot without slowing down or bothering to make use of the maneuvering verniers. The number of possible directions, or orientations, the Striker could use to move forward made it hard to track; exactly what Rebekah was hoping for.
She had gotten a decent look at where the Zaku had chosen to take cover, now she could get close enough to do some damage. Unless one of its allies intervened, she'd see an attack coming in time to block or evade.
It was time to take this seriously. | Name: Rebekah Cross
Age: 19
Gender: Female
Appearance: Standing 5’10”, Rebekah Fell tends to be rather striking for a few reasons. The contrast of her pitch black hair and skin as pale as a Spacenoid that has never set foot on Earth is the first, accented by the middle ground of her gray Federation uniform. Said uniform is always immaculate and pressed, the picture of attention to detail. Her cap is always worn, as well, as it serves to conceal the fact that her hair is most definitely not regulation length. It is always tied up and concealed under her cap in public, but falls down to her waist when let loose. It is her sole deviation from protocol, and one she is oddly protective of.
She cuts a striking, unusually curvy figure though her build is downplayed by the rigid contours of the standard Federation uniform. Her posture and movements, like her demeanor, are rigid and militaristic as though she is perpetually at attention. Her featured could be considered pretty, but the effect is significantly diminished by the inscrutably cold neutrality that always adorns her features. Her violet eyes are always alert, roaming her surroundings with great intensity even when she seems (as close as she gets to) relaxed.
Origin: Earthnoid
Faction: EFSF
Newtype: Quite possibly. As an Earthnoid, Rebekah has not spent the time in space necessary to awaken any latent Newtype potential. She has however demonstrated an exceptional understanding of her position in space, even in a three-dimensional environment like space, and unusually swift reaction times. Neither necessarily guarantees Newtype potential, as both could merely be natural skill, but time in space may awaken said latent potential.
Personality: Cold. Aloof. Dispassionate. These, and other synonyms, would be the impression someone meeting Rebekah for the first time would probably give. The GM pilot is not an easy woman to get to know. Her tendency to keep everyone at arm’s length is mostly surface-deep, and anyone who spends time around her is bound to catch glimpses past it. She is highly loyal and protective to her comrades, whether she shows any sign of it or not. No one gets left behind if she can help it, and every pilot that fails to come back from a battle is a personal failing to her.
Anyone who manages to befriend her has earned a friend for life. Friendship is not something she takes lightly, and she will stop at nothing to help or protect a friend. Nothing is of higher importance. Rebekah is a warm, quirky girl with an amusing fondness for desserts if you manage to get past the surface. What she feels passionate about, be it a hobby or an ideal, she is very passionate about.
Backstory: There is little to say about Rebekah Fell’s early life. She was born to a university professor and an accountant and raised in a modest home. Her performance in school was above average, though not extremely, and she maintained a close circle of friends throughout her childhood. Her aspirations, as she aged, seemed geared mostly towards a good college education and a comfortable, albeit quiet, life. She was an avid athlete, mostly of the track and martial arts variety, but her athletics were mostly just hobbies.
The growing tensions between Earth and Side 3, and ultimately the outbreak of the One Year War, changed all of that. Though not personally affected Rebekah lost friends to Operation British and the early days of the war, as everyone did. The atrocities hardened her, and she enlisted without hesitation in the Federation’s forces when their recruitment drive began.
Rebekah was actually an early pilot of the Ball, and one of the fortunate ones who survived their time as a pilot of the spherical coffin. Her reflexes served her extremely well as the pilot of such a mobile, but poorly armored, unit. The experience carried over extremely well when she was issued an RGM-79 GM, giving her an edge that less experienced combatants lacked. As time marched on, and variations of the base GM were developed, Rebekah began to specialize into units that would maximize her maneuverability and firepower, usually at the detriment of armor. While many struggled with such suits, her time in the Ball proved invaluable. The culmination of this is her Striker EX, customized slightly to suit her needs, a unit that she is quite affectionate towards.
Other Info: Born UC 0060, O- blood type, maintains an extensive personal collection of movies and television to watch in her quarters.
Mobile Suit Info:
RGM-79-FP-S1 GM Striker EX
Weapons/Equipment:
-2x 60mm Vulcans
-Beam Saber
-AE/ZIM.HK Type-4 Heat knife
-YHI RAQ-SS-Wp Sashot Anchor: Arm-mounted launcher intended to embed its spike in a target (enemy unit, enemy ship, asteroid, etc) attached to a long metal retractable cable. Mounted on the right arm.
-YHI 1GL-84SB Grenade Launcher Anchor: Sidearm that launches explosive spikes that embed in the target before exploding.
-L9 Type Beam Rifle: Long range beam rifle with fold-out bipod. Mounted horizontally on the back in place of a second knife.
-BOWA BR-M-84H-H-4 Type Beam Rifle: Handheld, primary weapon.
-RGM*S-Sh-WF/S-00109 (Renpou GUNDAM Mass-produced Small Shield: Shield taken from ground-use GMs, stock save for beam coating added for Rebekah’s use. Mounted on left forearm.
-Thermal Visor: Thermal imaging system mounted on, and deployable from, the forehead.
The GM Striker EX, nicknamed Metal Spider by some due to its thermal visor, is a general use custom mobile suit created from the ground-use, close-combat-oriented GM Striker. The Striker EX features additional thrusters that allow for extremely high acceleration at the cost of armor and ballistic protection. The Striker EX, as used by Rebekah Fell, is a high-mobility assault unit oriented towards mid-to-long range engagement. Though capable in close combat, it is meant to avoid it; due to its light armor any strike in close combat is likely to be critical, and strikes cannot be easily avoided in close quarters. |
3,643 | 82 | 19 | 2,325 | 2,408 | Ill cover you go do what you need to. Levi called out as she turned her attention to the others Bringing out her heat saber she charged forward she would buy time even if it meant her downfall her way to repent for what she has done. That was her idea her goal and it was going to be made a reality. "Come at me you feddie pilots try and get me, Sieg Zeon!" She yelled over the radio as she quickly found what appeared to be the GM juggler and charged at it. The fighting had to end there was no more reason to fight and she would make sure that it happens. | Name: Roan Oakley
Age: 18
Gender: Female
Appearance: Roan is roughly 5'9", enough to be considered on the taller end of the spectrum, but her figure is very unremarkable with little curves, though in uniform her slight bottom-heaviness is more easily noted. Her is made out into a mane of gentle spikes, edged like waves, and colored a light blond that fades to a pale platinum at the ends. Her eyes are ringed a little, and some say it's from lack of sleep, but the green orbs are always alert and searching no matter what her expression may look like. Her shoulders droop often and she seems the exact opposite of what a lot of Federation pilots are supposed to be, but her skill should not be judged on appearances alone.
Origin: Roan is considered an oddity, because her birth certificate actually lists her as coming from the space colony Londonian whereas her place of residence, until her induction into the military, was a relatively small city far removed from most other Federation operations. As such, Roan and the populace have an abject view of the issues that have been plaguing the colonies and the Federation as a whole, having not relied on the Federation or too much more than the local government for much in years. The rumor is, and the one she doesn't try to wave away, is that her parents brought her down from the colonies so she wouldn't be referred to as a 'Spacenoid' or be treated as someone from the space colonies. This has not been entirely avoided however, as it shows up on her records whenever she transfers units.
Faction: Currently aligned with the Federation, as part of its EFSF mobile suit divisions.
Newtype: Possible yes. She has exhibited a much higher level of 3D spatial awareness than most candidates, allowing her to 'think' in 3D and plan accordingly.
Personality: The best old age word that could be used to describe her is 'hick.' Not in the way of the Old South in what used to be America, but instead to refer to someone that is insular or uninformed. Roan is known to not particularly care about the Federation's interests, nor the entirety of the conflict with Zeon during the One Year War, and is often mocked and derided for not buying into the whole patriot aspect of the military. In fact, she is oftentimes suggested to be a spy with her aloof attitude and apathetic expression, using her colony heritage against her whenever she fails to respond appropriately. Most of this however rolls off of her shoulders as she's not in it for the patriotism or glory, but more to find herself and understand what's going on outside the sphere of her hometown. This is not to say she's completely uneducated; in fact, so far as academics go, she's fairly top-notch.
Backstory: Having grown up in what could be considered a future-type backwoods city, a modern era center where most everything was up to date and yet kept away from the conflict overtaking the rest of the Earth Federation's known holdings, Roan could've been considered a bit sheltered compared to most of the Federation's enlisted personnel. She knew relatively little of the Federation's stance against Zeon and of Zeon's intentions, but it wasn't due to completely willful ignorance. Having seen mobile suit combat on the news feed and seen what took place between the two factions, she decided to broaden her horizon by moving to the place where raw, human emotion and the passionate wills of the people existed, perhaps even twisted to be unrecognizable, and to experience what had been going on herself. Her upbringing and file almost had her canned as a ground troop, an easy sacrifice for the cause, but her skill, intelligence, and fast reflexes quickly forced the Federation to preclude her from fodder. The academy, though rife with bullying, threats, and overall prejudice towards her birth status and her upbringing in the furthest place from the frontlines besides the bourgeois, was the proper kind of challenge for her to try and extend her skillset. Thus, she found during mobile suit simulated exercises and tactical analyses classes that her perception as a whole was much greater than the average person, and on a level above those who had a good grasp of awareness above them. Despite her spacey attitude, this earned her the grudging respect of some of her fellow pilot trainees, and lead to early success in her initial combat sorties. The horrors of war have reached her, but she doesn't lock them away. She prefers to ruminate on them and mourn quietly, lest the bloodbath and madness suck her in.
Other Info: Not a sweets person, but loves fish and fruit. Fish and chips is her favorite ration meal. Writes in her spare time. Doodles in the same notebook. Listens to a variety of music. Can be found in time between sorties on the observation decks, gazing into space.
RGM-79 GM, specifically a model used in the Thunderbolt Sector. Equipped with a Core Block system, and can be fashioned with a thruster pack equipped with two sub arms which are generally used to hold a pair of shields, a double-barreled beam weapon, and the standard issue beam spray gun.
Lately, it seems she's been trying to add different weapons to her arsenal and tactics. Chaff and minovsky particle dispersal have been one set of unusual equipment she's attempted to have applied, as well as small missile or rocket packs or an extra beam spray gun. |
3,644 | 82 | 20 | 1,525 | 524 | Resha gunned it. She had a clear shot to the chunk of colony with the comms on them. Grimacing as she flew past cars buildings and the such, the female made it to the chunk. Grabbing onto the platform, she depressurized the cockpit and opened it, the hatch smacking onto the concrete. Pushing off her Zudah, Resha made her way to the door, the backup generators allowing it to open for her. This caused the girl to sigh a sigh of releif, knowing her job would be a bit easier.
Maneuvering into the colony's comms hq, the female had to try to herself together, passing a few corpses on the way in, which she tried her hardest to not look at. Making it to the comms room, the female saw it red with emergency lights, but the computers still capable of operating the antenna attached to the hunk of colony. She began to type commands into the pc, the antenna opening up and directing at the battlefield, massive dish preparing to bombard the area.
Taking a deep breath, she flicked on the comms, the massive colony bound antenna pushing through the minovsky particles even if a bit fuzzy. "Please, if you can hear me, stop fighting!" she called out to the fighters left on the field, of which there weren't many. "My name is Resha, formerly Zeon, but i renounce my ties in favor of humanity as a whole... I know some of you can feel... things... even if it's a buzzing in the back of your head, a voice, a nawing thought or even other people's voices... that's because you are most likely a newtype... but regardless, if you're still alive, we're all humans. Both fleets have left us and regardless of how many you kill now, everyone out here is dead if you just continue like that." The girl's voice said, betraying her young age and just how hard she was trying to communicate with people. They could almost feel the emotion and near desperation for a cease fire in her voice.
"Please just stop fighting! if we want to live, we can do this together. No ideals are worth fighting for if they just so willingly toss their fighters to the side like we're nothing but more debris and out here. Please see some sense in this madness, this war that is so pointless right now... our lives shouldn't be wasted on the grand ideals and ambitions of people who do naught but push their own agendas! We can come together and live through this, and maybe, just maybe we can make our mark on history if we survive. Please just come to the antenna chunk and we can talk this out like humans and decide from there how to survive... I'm only sixteen; i don't want to die yet. Not like this." The female said with final lines that could send chills down anyones spine; a desperate plea from just some girl who was afraid and alone. After that, she clicked off the comms, taking a few deep breaths and shudders as the girl felt she had aged several years during the course of that speech. She gave out her location to people she had been fighting mere minutes ago. For one of the few times in her life since she was little, she felt vulnerable and afraid. Crouching down into a corner, she curled up and prayed to whatever force existed out there that these people would listen to her. | Name:Valretha
Age: 16
Gender: Female
5ft 4in 170 lbs, seen wearing standard issue zeon pilot garb outside of a normal suit.
Origin: Spacenoid
Faction: Zeon
Newtype: Yes
Personality: Whiel having several ideals that let her align with Zeon, the girl is only truly loyal to herself and those that prove to show their worth and trust. Not against fighting, the girl herself is demanding professionally but friendly and somewhat laid back when with friends. Trust is something that is definitely earned as her childhood
Backstory: Born and raised in side three, her parents were skeptical believers in Deikum's philosophies. Upon his death, they paid their respects at his funeral parade. unfortunately, they were also next to Dozle's car when the bomb that killed his brother went off. Just before that, something had told her to itch her ankle. She ducked down and was consequently blown over from the explosion. her ears were ringing loudly. Getting back up. she found her parents were both on the ground, people around her were screaming. Her parents had been blunt to say the least, so she knew what death was despite being five years old. The next three years were a blur to her, but she wound up with support from Dozle, who had seen her that day after his rage had subsided and took pity on the girl.
She was fiercely independent and Dozle took on a more uncle like role to her. He'd support her and get her nannies and tutors to raise and school her, but never fully adopted the girl. When she was able to, she joined the military and quickly found herself piloting starfighters for a short while before winding up inside of an MS. Not without a a bit of preferential treatment from Dozle to try and keep the scarred girl off the front lines, he let her take up a spot in an experimental division known as NTZ. This has brought her around the sides, traveling to test different types of mobile suits before the division was finally called to war.
Other Info:
A strong and potent newtype, she only has stayed out of the hands of the development of newtype and newtype weaponry by Dozle. To this point, she is fearful of those in zeon taking her if anything were to happen to him.
Mobile Suit Info:
EMS-07 ZUDAH PEregrinus
Modified to have a 210 mm rifle for long distance shooting. Carries a heat hawk and the engine has been overhauled to have the saturn defect removed. has in atomosphere flight capabilities and is more agile die to several reduction in armor weight. |
3,645 | 82 | 21 | 1,826 | 1,162 | "Well, Bekah," came the flippant reply, devoid of ceremony, "normally I charge to let a girl be so thoroughly...dominant. But I think I like you. So get ready to have the backup of your godda--"
He felt the Gouf approaching before he saw it.
The Juggler Custom spun to face down the blue mobile suit, charging towards Dallas' mobile suit with heat rod raised. He supposed it ought to have been worrying. But then, dicks intent on ramming into our hapless French hero were nothing new, were they? And Dallas Grenier, for once, had failed to eschew his protection.
In the back of the head, he heard the dull buzzing of some Zeon jockey's plea for peace. It was a little sweet, hit all the right emotional beats and all, and she clearly had some awareness, both of his Newtype status and her own. But he wasn't about to lay down the rifle and let himself get carved up by Spacenoid heat weaponry. If a rentboy ever ended up carved up, it was usually in some rich millionaire's icy bathtub, with his kidneys and half his liver missing. It wasn't going to be in space, far away from everyone he'd ever known or loved.
Never going to happen, dear.
Hoisting the beam rifle that the Metal Spider had lent it, La Hire fired off three shots in succession, once at the shoulder of the arm wielding the heat rod, and two directly aimed for the cockpit. At the least, he expected to take off the Gouf's arm, if not leave the pilot atomized inside her cockpit. He didn't really care much for her life one way or the other.
Dallas just wanted this fight wrapped up. And he wanted some face time with that Spider pilot. | Name: Dallas Matthieu Renatus Grenier ("Dal," "Dally," "Matty Magnum," "The Sundance Kid," "Arc de Triunffffff")
Age: 19
Appearance:
Origin: Colonies, with Parisien upbringing
Faction: EFSF
Newtype: Yes.
Personality: Though not a dyed-in-the-wool Zeon lover by any means, Dallas isn't exactly a "truth, justice, and kissing babies on the head" kind of war hero - nor is he a brooding wreck who sobs about the lives he's taken whenever he leaves the cockpit . Rather, his personality flaws all lay in his poor attitude in general. Intentionally needling, irreverent, and quick to anger, the mercurial young man loves to pout and roll his eyes with aplomb, and his Cheshire grin is just as often intended to make someone else roll their eyes right back at him. He's not without his vanity either, often going out of his way to emphasize his own attractiveness or flirt with others. Noted pansexual.
Despite his love of being the bad boy, the French brat has a heart of gold somewhere underneath the jackassery. Bold and fearless to a fault, his incessant need to talk often belies his Newtype prowess, superb oratory skills and a creative mind. It's not rare for you to shut Dallas up only to find yourself thinking later on how there were some good ideas underneath the stream of jokes, come-ons, and curses.
Backstory: Born to a pair of ne'er-do-wells on Shangri-La in Side 1, the boy who would later take the alias Dallas Grenier never knew anything but chaos. His father was a drinking and ambivalent young man who hardly cared when his son was taken away by his girlfriend; Dallas was brought without conflict to his mother's native Paris at the age of 4 and served as her anchor throughout a life wrought with tension and vice. Always an adventurous, reckless, and open-hearted child, the young Parisien grew up at the heart of his mother's life of partying, prescriptions, and solicitation - and, under the impression that this was something resembling a normal life, fell into all the same traps as he grew older.
Somehow (through what he regarded throughout childhood as a guardian angel, and later learned was Newtype prowess) he was successful enough at his chosen vocations - fighting, prostitution, theft, scams, and sweet talking - to keep paying off fines for the majority of his teens, but eventually even the boy's luck ran out. He was caught and arrested less than a month before Operation British on a number of charges and, unable to pay off all his charges or talk his way out of his situation, was thrown into jail. However, a few months into the war between the Earth Federation and Side 3, he was approached in jail with what seemed like a fair proposition:
Either devote his worthless life to the Federation and be among the first testers of the Federation's jury-rigged poor man's psycommu system, or die like a rat on the off chance the next colony fell on Paris while he rotted away in jail.
With those two rosy options before him, the young con man took on the alias of Dallas Grenier for the purposes of enlisting in the Earth Federation, and found surprising success behind the cockpit of his custom GM Juggler.
Mobile Suit: RGM-79X-PT GM Juggler Custom "La Hire"
La Hire sports Dallas' own custom paint job, with electric blue armor over the alabaster frame and two black RB-79K Ball Type Ks on the shoulders. A beam-coated shield has been added for protection in an effort to protect the Juggler's reckless pilot further.
Armaments:
-60mm Vulcans
-HWF GMG·MG79-90mm Bullpup Machine Gun
-Beam-Treated FADEGEL RGM-M-Sh-003 Shield
-Newtype-Use Shoulder-Mounted Laser Remote-Controlled RB-79 Ball Type K w/Beam Rifles (x2) |
3,646 | 82 | 22 | 511 | 3,294 | BRIZO BADAMISH
She's fast.
That edgy GM the Feddie was piloting was miles ahead in sophistication to any other mobile suit she'd fought over the course of the war, and the speed at which it bounced around the battlefield like a trampoline getting bread was testament to the power of its tech. It really was on the ... cutting-edge (heh) ... of mobile suits, and if Brizo hadn't known better, she could've thought it to be something from a future where the Federation had won the war (which was actually still pretty likely given the massive manpower imbalance and growing familiarity with MS use). That obviously wasn't the case, because she was fighting it right now.
If she had been piloting a normal Zaku rather than the Act Zaku that Flanagan had given to her for today, then she probably would have been completely repelled by that Jim. The magnetic coating was probably the only thing helping her keep up so well. Even some of the Institute's prototypes probably couldn't reach speeds of that magnitude, excepting her beloved Brawrello. Those Feddie scientists were good.
That's why she couldn't really give up, no matter what that Newtype girl on the comms was asking. Not that she really wanted to leave Zeon that much in the first place. She would survive here, get all the battle data and interesting info back to the Institute, then enjoy a meal with the mobile suits. That'd be nice. Maybe the ships were leaving, sure, but she'd get home some way.
But first, she needed to beat up this Feddie Newtype and the super suit.
Brizo'd never really fought another Newtype before, and this was quite relaxing.
Her machine flared into action. There was no more point in remaining still if that GM could strike so quickly. She needed to keep the Act Zaku moving and make use of its own speed. Thus, the mobile suit promptly pushed against the asteroid she was hiding behind, thrusters bursting to life and accelerating herself, and the mass of the rock, forth at a rapid speed. However, she immediately broke off as the small asteroid began to roll through the void towards the rest of the field of asteroids, her thrusters immediately redirecting to move her in another direction. This time, downwards, to cover herself below the rock.
It was fast. It was confusing.
So she'd get the asteroid field moving. | Name: Brizo Badamish
Age: 17
Gender: Female
Appearance:
Origin: Spacenoid
Faction: Flanagan Institute, Principality of Zeon
Newtype: Yes
Personality: First glance, total doormat. Like, if you were to swagger up to the door of somebody's house and look down, Brizo Badamish would be lying flat on the ground, completely uncaring even if you decided to wipe your shoes on her back. Tell her to jump, and she'd jump. Tell her to steal some files from your rival scientist's office, and she'll work as your resident gopher for less than minimum wage. She doesn't protest at all.
Actually, all of that's a lie.
Brizo Badamish is a pretty intelligent and helpful person, correct. That's less because she'll let anybody walk over her, but because she really doesn't like sticking her head out and getting bothered for little things. It isn't a massive fuss if someone wants her to grab them a coffee, but it gets real tiresome if she's lying aorund and a scientist berates her for not doing any work. Besides, she likes work, whether it be doing odd jobs or piloting a giant robot; it takes her mind off things and is generally pretty relaxing.
She's sorta airheaded in that regard, but despite that she's actually pretty good at what she does (even if it looks like she's half-arsing it).
On a personal level, Brizo actually has a sense of humour. She likes jokes, no matter how shitty they may be, and will casually share them if you ever feel like asking. Her hobbies actually include hitting the joke books for them, as well as watching cartoons (the other kids at the orphanage always hogged the single cathode-ray television they managed to salvage). She is a bit eccentric though when you interact with her (hence the airhead label), and at times may be innocently insulting (that might be a lie, nobody actually knows if she's fucking with us yet). However, she's a solid pal, but if she does find things to be overly tiring or fussy, expect complaints and grumbling.
She has a reasonably screwed-on set of morals too.
Backstory: A native of Side 3, Brizo Badamish spent her formative years under the rule of the Republic of Zeon (and later, Principality) without parents, instead growing up under the care of a local orphanage. During this time, she began to manifest signs of Newtype potential, and was soon recruited into the fledgling Flanagan Institute by the age of ten as a test subject. However, with the addition of more skilled and more powerful subjects, her duties soon became far more mundane, such as acting as a gopher for the scientists or background filler for her more special compatriots' flashback scenes.
And that may have been her eventual fate, as another forgettable Newtype, had she not been assigned to test the Institute's Newtype weapons.
Indeed, Brizo quickly displayed signs of impressive piloting skills (helped along by reading the gigantic instruction manuals beforehand), and the Institute realised that they could make better use of her by shoving her into whatever mobile suit or mobile armor of the week they had developed to see how things worked. It was a pretty good deal for her, especially with the increased food allocation and whatnot, and so she continued to familiarise herself with the machines (and growing slightly attached to her favourite, the Brawrello).
Flanagan's also lending her out to the Zeon space forces for more data these days, hence why you can see her hanging around.
Other: She's voiced by Minori Chihara.
---
MOBILE WEAPON
MS-11 ACT ZAKU
Unit type: mass production general purpose mobile suit
Armor materials: super hard steel alloy
Powerplant: Minovsky type ultracompact fusion reactor, output rated at 1440 kW
Propulsion: rocket thrusters: total output 64800 kg
Equipment and design features: sensors, range 3600 meters; magnetic coated joints
Armaments: beam rifle, power by rechargeable energy cap; machine gun; bullpup gun; heat hawk; heat saber x 2
MAN-00X-2 BRAWRELLO
Unit type: prototype Newtype use mobile armor
Equipment: psycommu system
Armaments: wired mega particle cannon x 2, wired heat claw x 2, diffuse mega particle cannon x 1, quadruple missile launcher x 2 |
3,647 | 82 | 23 | 1,288 | 1,329 | A low, irritated growl reverberated deep in Rebekah's chest.
The opposing Zaku was fast, and more irritably, it was smart. The former was easy to deal with, the latter was not. It had evaded her surprise attack through what she had to assume was Newtype ability, and since then... Every attack was evaded, every maneuver was matched. There was nothing to be done while they were both within the asteroid field, even with the support from-
Ohhh, you have got to be kidding me.
The Juggler had been engaged by a Gouf (of all things), and despite the vaunted prowess of Newtype pilots Rebekah had no intention of leaving her support to a unit usually operated by two pilots. Time to reevaluate. The Act Zaku seemed to be a match, more or less, for her own Striker's mobility. Add in the presumed Newtype status of its pilot and the asteroid field was too level a playing field for her taste. Best to change that. Moving to aid the La Hire would free up her ally, and allow them both to regroup and deal with any potential remaining enemies.
Besides, he still had her rifle.
The next time the Striker's feet slammed into an asteroid it pivoted, pushing off again in the other direction; she fired her thrusters just as hard as she had in her advance, darting to and from the protective cover of the floating rocks as she did. It only took a few moments to escape the field again and move back out into open space, drawing a bead on the Gouf while she approached the Juggler.
She heard the broadcast from the Zeon pilot, and her frown deepened. She had noted the departure of the ships, but an attempt at a ceasefire was... A new wrinkle. Not everyone was necessarily going to be cooperative. Offer one hand, arm the other. She didn't lower her rifle, but she did use her lights to start transmitting the series of blinks that indicated a ceasefire.
"I cannot leave you alone for mere minutes, Frenchman." | Name: Rebekah Cross
Age: 19
Gender: Female
Appearance: Standing 5’10”, Rebekah Fell tends to be rather striking for a few reasons. The contrast of her pitch black hair and skin as pale as a Spacenoid that has never set foot on Earth is the first, accented by the middle ground of her gray Federation uniform. Said uniform is always immaculate and pressed, the picture of attention to detail. Her cap is always worn, as well, as it serves to conceal the fact that her hair is most definitely not regulation length. It is always tied up and concealed under her cap in public, but falls down to her waist when let loose. It is her sole deviation from protocol, and one she is oddly protective of.
She cuts a striking, unusually curvy figure though her build is downplayed by the rigid contours of the standard Federation uniform. Her posture and movements, like her demeanor, are rigid and militaristic as though she is perpetually at attention. Her featured could be considered pretty, but the effect is significantly diminished by the inscrutably cold neutrality that always adorns her features. Her violet eyes are always alert, roaming her surroundings with great intensity even when she seems (as close as she gets to) relaxed.
Origin: Earthnoid
Faction: EFSF
Newtype: Quite possibly. As an Earthnoid, Rebekah has not spent the time in space necessary to awaken any latent Newtype potential. She has however demonstrated an exceptional understanding of her position in space, even in a three-dimensional environment like space, and unusually swift reaction times. Neither necessarily guarantees Newtype potential, as both could merely be natural skill, but time in space may awaken said latent potential.
Personality: Cold. Aloof. Dispassionate. These, and other synonyms, would be the impression someone meeting Rebekah for the first time would probably give. The GM pilot is not an easy woman to get to know. Her tendency to keep everyone at arm’s length is mostly surface-deep, and anyone who spends time around her is bound to catch glimpses past it. She is highly loyal and protective to her comrades, whether she shows any sign of it or not. No one gets left behind if she can help it, and every pilot that fails to come back from a battle is a personal failing to her.
Anyone who manages to befriend her has earned a friend for life. Friendship is not something she takes lightly, and she will stop at nothing to help or protect a friend. Nothing is of higher importance. Rebekah is a warm, quirky girl with an amusing fondness for desserts if you manage to get past the surface. What she feels passionate about, be it a hobby or an ideal, she is very passionate about.
Backstory: There is little to say about Rebekah Fell’s early life. She was born to a university professor and an accountant and raised in a modest home. Her performance in school was above average, though not extremely, and she maintained a close circle of friends throughout her childhood. Her aspirations, as she aged, seemed geared mostly towards a good college education and a comfortable, albeit quiet, life. She was an avid athlete, mostly of the track and martial arts variety, but her athletics were mostly just hobbies.
The growing tensions between Earth and Side 3, and ultimately the outbreak of the One Year War, changed all of that. Though not personally affected Rebekah lost friends to Operation British and the early days of the war, as everyone did. The atrocities hardened her, and she enlisted without hesitation in the Federation’s forces when their recruitment drive began.
Rebekah was actually an early pilot of the Ball, and one of the fortunate ones who survived their time as a pilot of the spherical coffin. Her reflexes served her extremely well as the pilot of such a mobile, but poorly armored, unit. The experience carried over extremely well when she was issued an RGM-79 GM, giving her an edge that less experienced combatants lacked. As time marched on, and variations of the base GM were developed, Rebekah began to specialize into units that would maximize her maneuverability and firepower, usually at the detriment of armor. While many struggled with such suits, her time in the Ball proved invaluable. The culmination of this is her Striker EX, customized slightly to suit her needs, a unit that she is quite affectionate towards.
Other Info: Born UC 0060, O- blood type, maintains an extensive personal collection of movies and television to watch in her quarters.
Mobile Suit Info:
RGM-79-FP-S1 GM Striker EX
Weapons/Equipment:
-2x 60mm Vulcans
-Beam Saber
-AE/ZIM.HK Type-4 Heat knife
-YHI RAQ-SS-Wp Sashot Anchor: Arm-mounted launcher intended to embed its spike in a target (enemy unit, enemy ship, asteroid, etc) attached to a long metal retractable cable. Mounted on the right arm.
-YHI 1GL-84SB Grenade Launcher Anchor: Sidearm that launches explosive spikes that embed in the target before exploding.
-L9 Type Beam Rifle: Long range beam rifle with fold-out bipod. Mounted horizontally on the back in place of a second knife.
-BOWA BR-M-84H-H-4 Type Beam Rifle: Handheld, primary weapon.
-RGM*S-Sh-WF/S-00109 (Renpou GUNDAM Mass-produced Small Shield: Shield taken from ground-use GMs, stock save for beam coating added for Rebekah’s use. Mounted on left forearm.
-Thermal Visor: Thermal imaging system mounted on, and deployable from, the forehead.
The GM Striker EX, nicknamed Metal Spider by some due to its thermal visor, is a general use custom mobile suit created from the ground-use, close-combat-oriented GM Striker. The Striker EX features additional thrusters that allow for extremely high acceleration at the cost of armor and ballistic protection. The Striker EX, as used by Rebekah Fell, is a high-mobility assault unit oriented towards mid-to-long range engagement. Though capable in close combat, it is meant to avoid it; due to its light armor any strike in close combat is likely to be critical, and strikes cannot be easily avoided in close quarters. |
3,648 | 82 | 24 | 2,325 | 2,408 | Levi huffed hating to have to do this to her Gouf who had been a good partner for her practically a friend at this point but she need to survive and not die by a feddie pilot. Letting the shots hit her arm was a small sacrifice if anything she supposed. With the loss of her one arm she stopped it seems words was finally going through hopefully opening up her speakers she decided to speak up "This is Levi of the Zeon mobile force earth unit "dark materials" I ask for a cease fire as things are now there is no point in continuing this fight." She said laying down her one good arm gripping a heat saber. | Name: Roan Oakley
Age: 18
Gender: Female
Appearance: Roan is roughly 5'9", enough to be considered on the taller end of the spectrum, but her figure is very unremarkable with little curves, though in uniform her slight bottom-heaviness is more easily noted. Her is made out into a mane of gentle spikes, edged like waves, and colored a light blond that fades to a pale platinum at the ends. Her eyes are ringed a little, and some say it's from lack of sleep, but the green orbs are always alert and searching no matter what her expression may look like. Her shoulders droop often and she seems the exact opposite of what a lot of Federation pilots are supposed to be, but her skill should not be judged on appearances alone.
Origin: Roan is considered an oddity, because her birth certificate actually lists her as coming from the space colony Londonian whereas her place of residence, until her induction into the military, was a relatively small city far removed from most other Federation operations. As such, Roan and the populace have an abject view of the issues that have been plaguing the colonies and the Federation as a whole, having not relied on the Federation or too much more than the local government for much in years. The rumor is, and the one she doesn't try to wave away, is that her parents brought her down from the colonies so she wouldn't be referred to as a 'Spacenoid' or be treated as someone from the space colonies. This has not been entirely avoided however, as it shows up on her records whenever she transfers units.
Faction: Currently aligned with the Federation, as part of its EFSF mobile suit divisions.
Newtype: Possible yes. She has exhibited a much higher level of 3D spatial awareness than most candidates, allowing her to 'think' in 3D and plan accordingly.
Personality: The best old age word that could be used to describe her is 'hick.' Not in the way of the Old South in what used to be America, but instead to refer to someone that is insular or uninformed. Roan is known to not particularly care about the Federation's interests, nor the entirety of the conflict with Zeon during the One Year War, and is often mocked and derided for not buying into the whole patriot aspect of the military. In fact, she is oftentimes suggested to be a spy with her aloof attitude and apathetic expression, using her colony heritage against her whenever she fails to respond appropriately. Most of this however rolls off of her shoulders as she's not in it for the patriotism or glory, but more to find herself and understand what's going on outside the sphere of her hometown. This is not to say she's completely uneducated; in fact, so far as academics go, she's fairly top-notch.
Backstory: Having grown up in what could be considered a future-type backwoods city, a modern era center where most everything was up to date and yet kept away from the conflict overtaking the rest of the Earth Federation's known holdings, Roan could've been considered a bit sheltered compared to most of the Federation's enlisted personnel. She knew relatively little of the Federation's stance against Zeon and of Zeon's intentions, but it wasn't due to completely willful ignorance. Having seen mobile suit combat on the news feed and seen what took place between the two factions, she decided to broaden her horizon by moving to the place where raw, human emotion and the passionate wills of the people existed, perhaps even twisted to be unrecognizable, and to experience what had been going on herself. Her upbringing and file almost had her canned as a ground troop, an easy sacrifice for the cause, but her skill, intelligence, and fast reflexes quickly forced the Federation to preclude her from fodder. The academy, though rife with bullying, threats, and overall prejudice towards her birth status and her upbringing in the furthest place from the frontlines besides the bourgeois, was the proper kind of challenge for her to try and extend her skillset. Thus, she found during mobile suit simulated exercises and tactical analyses classes that her perception as a whole was much greater than the average person, and on a level above those who had a good grasp of awareness above them. Despite her spacey attitude, this earned her the grudging respect of some of her fellow pilot trainees, and lead to early success in her initial combat sorties. The horrors of war have reached her, but she doesn't lock them away. She prefers to ruminate on them and mourn quietly, lest the bloodbath and madness suck her in.
Other Info: Not a sweets person, but loves fish and fruit. Fish and chips is her favorite ration meal. Writes in her spare time. Doodles in the same notebook. Listens to a variety of music. Can be found in time between sorties on the observation decks, gazing into space.
RGM-79 GM, specifically a model used in the Thunderbolt Sector. Equipped with a Core Block system, and can be fashioned with a thruster pack equipped with two sub arms which are generally used to hold a pair of shields, a double-barreled beam weapon, and the standard issue beam spray gun.
Lately, it seems she's been trying to add different weapons to her arsenal and tactics. Chaff and minovsky particle dispersal have been one set of unusual equipment she's attempted to have applied, as well as small missile or rocket packs or an extra beam spray gun. |
3,649 | 82 | 25 | 2,325 | 2,408 | Are you shitting me!? God-damned brass, we've lost too many personnel for this battle, my GM is half-baked thanks to that Gouf, and you forget to sound the retreat call for whoever's left in the fucking debris field? For all of my damned work in this machine, you leave me and dozens of others out here to die? Roan roared, slamming her fist into her control console and seething in frustration. She watched on her sensors as the Federation ships pulled out of the belt, her head throbbing due to her fury and indignation at being abandoned. The pilot should've expected it by now; she was essentially a Spacenoid, despite her Earthbound rearing, and was always considered an outcast.
The other GMs were closing in on the Gouf which was crippled badly thanks to the Juggler's shots, the Zeon mobile suit having been providing cover for the Zudah pilot that was protesting the battle. As much as she knew it was kill or be killed, from what she heard over the communications network both of the pilots she had encountered earlier were much younger than most of the personnel she had ever faced. Roan wasn't very sentimental most of the time, but the mere memory of what Thunderbolt Sector was doing at one point left a very foul taste in her mouth.
Easing the mobile suit out from her cover, being sure to evade any jutting structures lest she end up wasted upon the surface of a destroyed colony, she began to approach her...comrades, slow and easy with weapons down. More than likely they'd just cut the Gouf pilot up if given the chance...
"Is that black operations GM actually complying? It wouldn't acknowledge me earlier, but fuck if I understand Minovsky particle physics..." Roan muttered to herself, remaining shield up just in case something decided to crop up. Watching the ceasefire signals emit from the GM's emergency external lights, she turned on her own, transmitting the declaration to the Gouf.
"Hey, Frenchie! Fight's over. The actual rules of warfare state that if we have enemy forces surrendering, we don't kill them on the spot. You forget we have cockpit recorders, so if someone actually decided to take a look or rat on you, they could court-martial your ass if they were enough of a busybody. Besides, if anything they might know more than enough about the colony for us to call the fleet back and get us picked up," Her call went out over the now-open comm channel. If he did shoot, there was the chance she could chuck the shield over and get it to take the heat, but she had the feeling even the slimmest of chances would be too generous for that.
She looked over at the black GM, biting her lip a little. It was an intimidating thing, bulkier and more refined than her own RGM-79 and with power she could barely imagine. It was almost on par with that mythical mobile suit, the 'Gundam' she had so oft heard about. "Pardon, but whatever happened to that crazy Zaku you were fighting? Did you lose it in the field?" | Name: Roan Oakley
Age: 18
Gender: Female
Appearance: Roan is roughly 5'9", enough to be considered on the taller end of the spectrum, but her figure is very unremarkable with little curves, though in uniform her slight bottom-heaviness is more easily noted. Her is made out into a mane of gentle spikes, edged like waves, and colored a light blond that fades to a pale platinum at the ends. Her eyes are ringed a little, and some say it's from lack of sleep, but the green orbs are always alert and searching no matter what her expression may look like. Her shoulders droop often and she seems the exact opposite of what a lot of Federation pilots are supposed to be, but her skill should not be judged on appearances alone.
Origin: Roan is considered an oddity, because her birth certificate actually lists her as coming from the space colony Londonian whereas her place of residence, until her induction into the military, was a relatively small city far removed from most other Federation operations. As such, Roan and the populace have an abject view of the issues that have been plaguing the colonies and the Federation as a whole, having not relied on the Federation or too much more than the local government for much in years. The rumor is, and the one she doesn't try to wave away, is that her parents brought her down from the colonies so she wouldn't be referred to as a 'Spacenoid' or be treated as someone from the space colonies. This has not been entirely avoided however, as it shows up on her records whenever she transfers units.
Faction: Currently aligned with the Federation, as part of its EFSF mobile suit divisions.
Newtype: Possible yes. She has exhibited a much higher level of 3D spatial awareness than most candidates, allowing her to 'think' in 3D and plan accordingly.
Personality: The best old age word that could be used to describe her is 'hick.' Not in the way of the Old South in what used to be America, but instead to refer to someone that is insular or uninformed. Roan is known to not particularly care about the Federation's interests, nor the entirety of the conflict with Zeon during the One Year War, and is often mocked and derided for not buying into the whole patriot aspect of the military. In fact, she is oftentimes suggested to be a spy with her aloof attitude and apathetic expression, using her colony heritage against her whenever she fails to respond appropriately. Most of this however rolls off of her shoulders as she's not in it for the patriotism or glory, but more to find herself and understand what's going on outside the sphere of her hometown. This is not to say she's completely uneducated; in fact, so far as academics go, she's fairly top-notch.
Backstory: Having grown up in what could be considered a future-type backwoods city, a modern era center where most everything was up to date and yet kept away from the conflict overtaking the rest of the Earth Federation's known holdings, Roan could've been considered a bit sheltered compared to most of the Federation's enlisted personnel. She knew relatively little of the Federation's stance against Zeon and of Zeon's intentions, but it wasn't due to completely willful ignorance. Having seen mobile suit combat on the news feed and seen what took place between the two factions, she decided to broaden her horizon by moving to the place where raw, human emotion and the passionate wills of the people existed, perhaps even twisted to be unrecognizable, and to experience what had been going on herself. Her upbringing and file almost had her canned as a ground troop, an easy sacrifice for the cause, but her skill, intelligence, and fast reflexes quickly forced the Federation to preclude her from fodder. The academy, though rife with bullying, threats, and overall prejudice towards her birth status and her upbringing in the furthest place from the frontlines besides the bourgeois, was the proper kind of challenge for her to try and extend her skillset. Thus, she found during mobile suit simulated exercises and tactical analyses classes that her perception as a whole was much greater than the average person, and on a level above those who had a good grasp of awareness above them. Despite her spacey attitude, this earned her the grudging respect of some of her fellow pilot trainees, and lead to early success in her initial combat sorties. The horrors of war have reached her, but she doesn't lock them away. She prefers to ruminate on them and mourn quietly, lest the bloodbath and madness suck her in.
Other Info: Not a sweets person, but loves fish and fruit. Fish and chips is her favorite ration meal. Writes in her spare time. Doodles in the same notebook. Listens to a variety of music. Can be found in time between sorties on the observation decks, gazing into space.
RGM-79 GM, specifically a model used in the Thunderbolt Sector. Equipped with a Core Block system, and can be fashioned with a thruster pack equipped with two sub arms which are generally used to hold a pair of shields, a double-barreled beam weapon, and the standard issue beam spray gun.
Lately, it seems she's been trying to add different weapons to her arsenal and tactics. Chaff and minovsky particle dispersal have been one set of unusual equipment she's attempted to have applied, as well as small missile or rocket packs or an extra beam spray gun. |
3,650 | 82 | 26 | 511 | 3,294 | BRIZO BADAMISH
Her opponent had chosen to disengage. The high-tech GM was gone, leaving Brizo and her Act Zaku to hide alone within the moving field of asteroids. It was actually pretty surprising; she'd expected to spend more time jimming it up (hehehehe) with the Feddie in battle, but it looked like the growing support for a ceasefire was greater than she'd initially thought. Well, she could relate; it would be pointless continuing to fight if she couldn't bring the suit data back to the labs. She needed a ship for that, because Zakus weren't that great at solo space travel.
All her colleagues seemed reluctant to fight too. That made sense. They didn't know when they'd get their regular meals again, so it was best to conserve energy and team-up with the Feds to achieve the mutual goal of getting home for tea. Her Brawrello was probably missing her too.
And ... it wasn't too important, but she was actually a bit curious about whether or not the Federation had begun the weaponisation of Newtypes as well.
Her Act Zaku drifted towards another of the moving asteroids, thrusters roaring to life as it pushed off the gravelly surface of the rock, heat and energy flaring in its wake as it began to move out of the field. Brizo's movements, no matter how intense they may have seemed, were still admittedly rather cautious, carefully darting around to make her mobile suit less of a target in case any enemy chose to continue attacking.
She stopped at the edge of the asteroid field, red monoeye flashing.
What was going to happen? | Name: Brizo Badamish
Age: 17
Gender: Female
Appearance:
Origin: Spacenoid
Faction: Flanagan Institute, Principality of Zeon
Newtype: Yes
Personality: First glance, total doormat. Like, if you were to swagger up to the door of somebody's house and look down, Brizo Badamish would be lying flat on the ground, completely uncaring even if you decided to wipe your shoes on her back. Tell her to jump, and she'd jump. Tell her to steal some files from your rival scientist's office, and she'll work as your resident gopher for less than minimum wage. She doesn't protest at all.
Actually, all of that's a lie.
Brizo Badamish is a pretty intelligent and helpful person, correct. That's less because she'll let anybody walk over her, but because she really doesn't like sticking her head out and getting bothered for little things. It isn't a massive fuss if someone wants her to grab them a coffee, but it gets real tiresome if she's lying aorund and a scientist berates her for not doing any work. Besides, she likes work, whether it be doing odd jobs or piloting a giant robot; it takes her mind off things and is generally pretty relaxing.
She's sorta airheaded in that regard, but despite that she's actually pretty good at what she does (even if it looks like she's half-arsing it).
On a personal level, Brizo actually has a sense of humour. She likes jokes, no matter how shitty they may be, and will casually share them if you ever feel like asking. Her hobbies actually include hitting the joke books for them, as well as watching cartoons (the other kids at the orphanage always hogged the single cathode-ray television they managed to salvage). She is a bit eccentric though when you interact with her (hence the airhead label), and at times may be innocently insulting (that might be a lie, nobody actually knows if she's fucking with us yet). However, she's a solid pal, but if she does find things to be overly tiring or fussy, expect complaints and grumbling.
She has a reasonably screwed-on set of morals too.
Backstory: A native of Side 3, Brizo Badamish spent her formative years under the rule of the Republic of Zeon (and later, Principality) without parents, instead growing up under the care of a local orphanage. During this time, she began to manifest signs of Newtype potential, and was soon recruited into the fledgling Flanagan Institute by the age of ten as a test subject. However, with the addition of more skilled and more powerful subjects, her duties soon became far more mundane, such as acting as a gopher for the scientists or background filler for her more special compatriots' flashback scenes.
And that may have been her eventual fate, as another forgettable Newtype, had she not been assigned to test the Institute's Newtype weapons.
Indeed, Brizo quickly displayed signs of impressive piloting skills (helped along by reading the gigantic instruction manuals beforehand), and the Institute realised that they could make better use of her by shoving her into whatever mobile suit or mobile armor of the week they had developed to see how things worked. It was a pretty good deal for her, especially with the increased food allocation and whatnot, and so she continued to familiarise herself with the machines (and growing slightly attached to her favourite, the Brawrello).
Flanagan's also lending her out to the Zeon space forces for more data these days, hence why you can see her hanging around.
Other: She's voiced by Minori Chihara.
---
MOBILE WEAPON
MS-11 ACT ZAKU
Unit type: mass production general purpose mobile suit
Armor materials: super hard steel alloy
Powerplant: Minovsky type ultracompact fusion reactor, output rated at 1440 kW
Propulsion: rocket thrusters: total output 64800 kg
Equipment and design features: sensors, range 3600 meters; magnetic coated joints
Armaments: beam rifle, power by rechargeable energy cap; machine gun; bullpup gun; heat hawk; heat saber x 2
MAN-00X-2 BRAWRELLO
Unit type: prototype Newtype use mobile armor
Equipment: psycommu system
Armaments: wired mega particle cannon x 2, wired heat claw x 2, diffuse mega particle cannon x 1, quadruple missile launcher x 2 |
3,651 | 82 | 27 | 1,288 | 1,329 | It is fortunate, then, that the Gouf has not attempted peaceful action until now.
Rebekah's comment was more than a little dry, and none-too-gentle in pointing out the Zeon pilot's behavior, but she didn't move to finish the enemy unit. As practical an option as it would have been, it wasn't necessary; they now outnumbered the Gouf three-to-one. She had extended her own offer of ceasefire as well and she wasn't one to go back on her word. There were larger problems to address, too.
She wasn't facing the risk of death by enemy fire anymore, she was no facing death by asphyxiation.
For it was air that was the real problem, not food. Between the small quantity of emergency rations in her cockpit and whatever stores of energy her body could burn she could survive for at least a week. Certainly more, but then she would begin to run into the issue of dehydration. A week would be long enough to accelerate the Striker in the direction of the Federation ships and most likely run into a vessel of some kind, provided she permitted inertia to carry her instead of using up the fuel she might need for maneuvering, but there was no guarantee that vessel would be friendly. Her efforts to reach allied ships might simply carry her into the hostile, trigger-happy arms of a Zeon battle group. It was a moot point anyway, given the limited amount of oxygen available. Even factoring in what was contained within her normal suit she would run out of oxygen in a matter of days.
The only solution she could see was to make her way to the colony in the hopes that there were sufficient supplies to ensure her survival, and that of the remaining Federation pilots in the area. Searching for additional survivors would further drain resources, but was a necessity. She would not leave comrades to suffocate in the void alone. Not if she could help it.
There were more immediate matters to attend to, however.
"I disengaged when it ventured deeper into the asteroid field." She answered the pilot of the Thunderbolt GM, noting movement out of the corner of her eye and turning the Striker's head to get a better look. "Continuing to engage it one-on-one was a risky proposition. It was wiser to regroup."
"It seems, however, that it has decided to return." The Striker's eyes flashed, while its external lights continued to flash a ceasefire signal. A smooth move of her arm brought her rifle to bear on the Zaku hanging at the edge of the field, a precaution against potential hostility.
The ball was in her erstwhile opponent's court, now. | Name: Rebekah Cross
Age: 19
Gender: Female
Appearance: Standing 5’10”, Rebekah Fell tends to be rather striking for a few reasons. The contrast of her pitch black hair and skin as pale as a Spacenoid that has never set foot on Earth is the first, accented by the middle ground of her gray Federation uniform. Said uniform is always immaculate and pressed, the picture of attention to detail. Her cap is always worn, as well, as it serves to conceal the fact that her hair is most definitely not regulation length. It is always tied up and concealed under her cap in public, but falls down to her waist when let loose. It is her sole deviation from protocol, and one she is oddly protective of.
She cuts a striking, unusually curvy figure though her build is downplayed by the rigid contours of the standard Federation uniform. Her posture and movements, like her demeanor, are rigid and militaristic as though she is perpetually at attention. Her featured could be considered pretty, but the effect is significantly diminished by the inscrutably cold neutrality that always adorns her features. Her violet eyes are always alert, roaming her surroundings with great intensity even when she seems (as close as she gets to) relaxed.
Origin: Earthnoid
Faction: EFSF
Newtype: Quite possibly. As an Earthnoid, Rebekah has not spent the time in space necessary to awaken any latent Newtype potential. She has however demonstrated an exceptional understanding of her position in space, even in a three-dimensional environment like space, and unusually swift reaction times. Neither necessarily guarantees Newtype potential, as both could merely be natural skill, but time in space may awaken said latent potential.
Personality: Cold. Aloof. Dispassionate. These, and other synonyms, would be the impression someone meeting Rebekah for the first time would probably give. The GM pilot is not an easy woman to get to know. Her tendency to keep everyone at arm’s length is mostly surface-deep, and anyone who spends time around her is bound to catch glimpses past it. She is highly loyal and protective to her comrades, whether she shows any sign of it or not. No one gets left behind if she can help it, and every pilot that fails to come back from a battle is a personal failing to her.
Anyone who manages to befriend her has earned a friend for life. Friendship is not something she takes lightly, and she will stop at nothing to help or protect a friend. Nothing is of higher importance. Rebekah is a warm, quirky girl with an amusing fondness for desserts if you manage to get past the surface. What she feels passionate about, be it a hobby or an ideal, she is very passionate about.
Backstory: There is little to say about Rebekah Fell’s early life. She was born to a university professor and an accountant and raised in a modest home. Her performance in school was above average, though not extremely, and she maintained a close circle of friends throughout her childhood. Her aspirations, as she aged, seemed geared mostly towards a good college education and a comfortable, albeit quiet, life. She was an avid athlete, mostly of the track and martial arts variety, but her athletics were mostly just hobbies.
The growing tensions between Earth and Side 3, and ultimately the outbreak of the One Year War, changed all of that. Though not personally affected Rebekah lost friends to Operation British and the early days of the war, as everyone did. The atrocities hardened her, and she enlisted without hesitation in the Federation’s forces when their recruitment drive began.
Rebekah was actually an early pilot of the Ball, and one of the fortunate ones who survived their time as a pilot of the spherical coffin. Her reflexes served her extremely well as the pilot of such a mobile, but poorly armored, unit. The experience carried over extremely well when she was issued an RGM-79 GM, giving her an edge that less experienced combatants lacked. As time marched on, and variations of the base GM were developed, Rebekah began to specialize into units that would maximize her maneuverability and firepower, usually at the detriment of armor. While many struggled with such suits, her time in the Ball proved invaluable. The culmination of this is her Striker EX, customized slightly to suit her needs, a unit that she is quite affectionate towards.
Other Info: Born UC 0060, O- blood type, maintains an extensive personal collection of movies and television to watch in her quarters.
Mobile Suit Info:
RGM-79-FP-S1 GM Striker EX
Weapons/Equipment:
-2x 60mm Vulcans
-Beam Saber
-AE/ZIM.HK Type-4 Heat knife
-YHI RAQ-SS-Wp Sashot Anchor: Arm-mounted launcher intended to embed its spike in a target (enemy unit, enemy ship, asteroid, etc) attached to a long metal retractable cable. Mounted on the right arm.
-YHI 1GL-84SB Grenade Launcher Anchor: Sidearm that launches explosive spikes that embed in the target before exploding.
-L9 Type Beam Rifle: Long range beam rifle with fold-out bipod. Mounted horizontally on the back in place of a second knife.
-BOWA BR-M-84H-H-4 Type Beam Rifle: Handheld, primary weapon.
-RGM*S-Sh-WF/S-00109 (Renpou GUNDAM Mass-produced Small Shield: Shield taken from ground-use GMs, stock save for beam coating added for Rebekah’s use. Mounted on left forearm.
-Thermal Visor: Thermal imaging system mounted on, and deployable from, the forehead.
The GM Striker EX, nicknamed Metal Spider by some due to its thermal visor, is a general use custom mobile suit created from the ground-use, close-combat-oriented GM Striker. The Striker EX features additional thrusters that allow for extremely high acceleration at the cost of armor and ballistic protection. The Striker EX, as used by Rebekah Fell, is a high-mobility assault unit oriented towards mid-to-long range engagement. Though capable in close combat, it is meant to avoid it; due to its light armor any strike in close combat is likely to be critical, and strikes cannot be easily avoided in close quarters. |
3,652 | 82 | 28 | 2,325 | 2,408 | GM POST TIME SKIP
It took awhile and with a overly tense atmosphere they managed to get each other to the colony what happened now was up to them while they were no longer fighting each other the question remained they were on neutral territory with mobile suits being quite open for view. This was just the beginning it was agreed between no one that a face to face confrontation was kind of important to see what each should do. While yes of opposing sides it was still important for people to know how they will go on by themselves and fend for themselves or work a bit longer together to at least get contact with their own factions?
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Levi sighed as she looked around they may have managed to get to the colony but she supposed now was the time to reveal themselves and how to best survive or at least worry about the other zeon pilots she wouldnt trust a feddie pilot with her back they would probably shoot her in the back once she let her guard down. Opening the hatch she stepped out her helmet lost in cockpit area showing her young face and startling blue hair for all to see. "Look the situation is tense so how about we go work a bit longer to at least get contact with our own factions than leave so we never see each other again for awhile no?" She needed to get back to earth who knew what Garma could get into this head without someone to smack sense into him now and than. | Name: Roan Oakley
Age: 18
Gender: Female
Appearance: Roan is roughly 5'9", enough to be considered on the taller end of the spectrum, but her figure is very unremarkable with little curves, though in uniform her slight bottom-heaviness is more easily noted. Her is made out into a mane of gentle spikes, edged like waves, and colored a light blond that fades to a pale platinum at the ends. Her eyes are ringed a little, and some say it's from lack of sleep, but the green orbs are always alert and searching no matter what her expression may look like. Her shoulders droop often and she seems the exact opposite of what a lot of Federation pilots are supposed to be, but her skill should not be judged on appearances alone.
Origin: Roan is considered an oddity, because her birth certificate actually lists her as coming from the space colony Londonian whereas her place of residence, until her induction into the military, was a relatively small city far removed from most other Federation operations. As such, Roan and the populace have an abject view of the issues that have been plaguing the colonies and the Federation as a whole, having not relied on the Federation or too much more than the local government for much in years. The rumor is, and the one she doesn't try to wave away, is that her parents brought her down from the colonies so she wouldn't be referred to as a 'Spacenoid' or be treated as someone from the space colonies. This has not been entirely avoided however, as it shows up on her records whenever she transfers units.
Faction: Currently aligned with the Federation, as part of its EFSF mobile suit divisions.
Newtype: Possible yes. She has exhibited a much higher level of 3D spatial awareness than most candidates, allowing her to 'think' in 3D and plan accordingly.
Personality: The best old age word that could be used to describe her is 'hick.' Not in the way of the Old South in what used to be America, but instead to refer to someone that is insular or uninformed. Roan is known to not particularly care about the Federation's interests, nor the entirety of the conflict with Zeon during the One Year War, and is often mocked and derided for not buying into the whole patriot aspect of the military. In fact, she is oftentimes suggested to be a spy with her aloof attitude and apathetic expression, using her colony heritage against her whenever she fails to respond appropriately. Most of this however rolls off of her shoulders as she's not in it for the patriotism or glory, but more to find herself and understand what's going on outside the sphere of her hometown. This is not to say she's completely uneducated; in fact, so far as academics go, she's fairly top-notch.
Backstory: Having grown up in what could be considered a future-type backwoods city, a modern era center where most everything was up to date and yet kept away from the conflict overtaking the rest of the Earth Federation's known holdings, Roan could've been considered a bit sheltered compared to most of the Federation's enlisted personnel. She knew relatively little of the Federation's stance against Zeon and of Zeon's intentions, but it wasn't due to completely willful ignorance. Having seen mobile suit combat on the news feed and seen what took place between the two factions, she decided to broaden her horizon by moving to the place where raw, human emotion and the passionate wills of the people existed, perhaps even twisted to be unrecognizable, and to experience what had been going on herself. Her upbringing and file almost had her canned as a ground troop, an easy sacrifice for the cause, but her skill, intelligence, and fast reflexes quickly forced the Federation to preclude her from fodder. The academy, though rife with bullying, threats, and overall prejudice towards her birth status and her upbringing in the furthest place from the frontlines besides the bourgeois, was the proper kind of challenge for her to try and extend her skillset. Thus, she found during mobile suit simulated exercises and tactical analyses classes that her perception as a whole was much greater than the average person, and on a level above those who had a good grasp of awareness above them. Despite her spacey attitude, this earned her the grudging respect of some of her fellow pilot trainees, and lead to early success in her initial combat sorties. The horrors of war have reached her, but she doesn't lock them away. She prefers to ruminate on them and mourn quietly, lest the bloodbath and madness suck her in.
Other Info: Not a sweets person, but loves fish and fruit. Fish and chips is her favorite ration meal. Writes in her spare time. Doodles in the same notebook. Listens to a variety of music. Can be found in time between sorties on the observation decks, gazing into space.
RGM-79 GM, specifically a model used in the Thunderbolt Sector. Equipped with a Core Block system, and can be fashioned with a thruster pack equipped with two sub arms which are generally used to hold a pair of shields, a double-barreled beam weapon, and the standard issue beam spray gun.
Lately, it seems she's been trying to add different weapons to her arsenal and tactics. Chaff and minovsky particle dispersal have been one set of unusual equipment she's attempted to have applied, as well as small missile or rocket packs or an extra beam spray gun. |
3,653 | 82 | 29 | 1,288 | 1,329 | Getting to the colony wasn't any difficulty, not once it was assured that their new 'friends' weren't going to take a shot at her. That wasn't to say that Rebekah let her guard down while she maneuvered efficiently towards the colony, preserving as much propellant as she possibly could. Quite the opposite, actually. The Metal Spider's heat visor was down the whole trip to watch for any enemies laying in wait, either as part of a trap or Zeonic pilots that didn't get the memo. She encountered neither, fortunately.
When she did get to the colony she landed the Striker next to the Juggler she had traveled in with, as well as the Thunderbolt-sector GM. A ceasefire didn't mean she was taking chances or she wanted to let anyone get the drop on them.
Which was why her sidearm was drawn when she opened her cockpit.
Not aimed at anyone; she knew proper trigger discipline. You didn't aim at someone you didn't intend to shoot. But the safety was off and it was in her hand, in the event anyone decided to try something cute. She hadn't put her helmet back on, so her hair was gathered into a bun hidden by the hat from her uniform instead. A low priority at the moment, but the normalcy of it was relaxing.
"So." Rebekah started. Her tone was neutral, but there was a trace of frigidity to it that spoke of her mistrust. "Has anyone actually looked around to see if there is a functioning comm system anywhere around here, yet? Let alone one that could get through the Minovsky fields out there?" | Name: Rebekah Cross
Age: 19
Gender: Female
Appearance: Standing 5’10”, Rebekah Fell tends to be rather striking for a few reasons. The contrast of her pitch black hair and skin as pale as a Spacenoid that has never set foot on Earth is the first, accented by the middle ground of her gray Federation uniform. Said uniform is always immaculate and pressed, the picture of attention to detail. Her cap is always worn, as well, as it serves to conceal the fact that her hair is most definitely not regulation length. It is always tied up and concealed under her cap in public, but falls down to her waist when let loose. It is her sole deviation from protocol, and one she is oddly protective of.
She cuts a striking, unusually curvy figure though her build is downplayed by the rigid contours of the standard Federation uniform. Her posture and movements, like her demeanor, are rigid and militaristic as though she is perpetually at attention. Her featured could be considered pretty, but the effect is significantly diminished by the inscrutably cold neutrality that always adorns her features. Her violet eyes are always alert, roaming her surroundings with great intensity even when she seems (as close as she gets to) relaxed.
Origin: Earthnoid
Faction: EFSF
Newtype: Quite possibly. As an Earthnoid, Rebekah has not spent the time in space necessary to awaken any latent Newtype potential. She has however demonstrated an exceptional understanding of her position in space, even in a three-dimensional environment like space, and unusually swift reaction times. Neither necessarily guarantees Newtype potential, as both could merely be natural skill, but time in space may awaken said latent potential.
Personality: Cold. Aloof. Dispassionate. These, and other synonyms, would be the impression someone meeting Rebekah for the first time would probably give. The GM pilot is not an easy woman to get to know. Her tendency to keep everyone at arm’s length is mostly surface-deep, and anyone who spends time around her is bound to catch glimpses past it. She is highly loyal and protective to her comrades, whether she shows any sign of it or not. No one gets left behind if she can help it, and every pilot that fails to come back from a battle is a personal failing to her.
Anyone who manages to befriend her has earned a friend for life. Friendship is not something she takes lightly, and she will stop at nothing to help or protect a friend. Nothing is of higher importance. Rebekah is a warm, quirky girl with an amusing fondness for desserts if you manage to get past the surface. What she feels passionate about, be it a hobby or an ideal, she is very passionate about.
Backstory: There is little to say about Rebekah Fell’s early life. She was born to a university professor and an accountant and raised in a modest home. Her performance in school was above average, though not extremely, and she maintained a close circle of friends throughout her childhood. Her aspirations, as she aged, seemed geared mostly towards a good college education and a comfortable, albeit quiet, life. She was an avid athlete, mostly of the track and martial arts variety, but her athletics were mostly just hobbies.
The growing tensions between Earth and Side 3, and ultimately the outbreak of the One Year War, changed all of that. Though not personally affected Rebekah lost friends to Operation British and the early days of the war, as everyone did. The atrocities hardened her, and she enlisted without hesitation in the Federation’s forces when their recruitment drive began.
Rebekah was actually an early pilot of the Ball, and one of the fortunate ones who survived their time as a pilot of the spherical coffin. Her reflexes served her extremely well as the pilot of such a mobile, but poorly armored, unit. The experience carried over extremely well when she was issued an RGM-79 GM, giving her an edge that less experienced combatants lacked. As time marched on, and variations of the base GM were developed, Rebekah began to specialize into units that would maximize her maneuverability and firepower, usually at the detriment of armor. While many struggled with such suits, her time in the Ball proved invaluable. The culmination of this is her Striker EX, customized slightly to suit her needs, a unit that she is quite affectionate towards.
Other Info: Born UC 0060, O- blood type, maintains an extensive personal collection of movies and television to watch in her quarters.
Mobile Suit Info:
RGM-79-FP-S1 GM Striker EX
Weapons/Equipment:
-2x 60mm Vulcans
-Beam Saber
-AE/ZIM.HK Type-4 Heat knife
-YHI RAQ-SS-Wp Sashot Anchor: Arm-mounted launcher intended to embed its spike in a target (enemy unit, enemy ship, asteroid, etc) attached to a long metal retractable cable. Mounted on the right arm.
-YHI 1GL-84SB Grenade Launcher Anchor: Sidearm that launches explosive spikes that embed in the target before exploding.
-L9 Type Beam Rifle: Long range beam rifle with fold-out bipod. Mounted horizontally on the back in place of a second knife.
-BOWA BR-M-84H-H-4 Type Beam Rifle: Handheld, primary weapon.
-RGM*S-Sh-WF/S-00109 (Renpou GUNDAM Mass-produced Small Shield: Shield taken from ground-use GMs, stock save for beam coating added for Rebekah’s use. Mounted on left forearm.
-Thermal Visor: Thermal imaging system mounted on, and deployable from, the forehead.
The GM Striker EX, nicknamed Metal Spider by some due to its thermal visor, is a general use custom mobile suit created from the ground-use, close-combat-oriented GM Striker. The Striker EX features additional thrusters that allow for extremely high acceleration at the cost of armor and ballistic protection. The Striker EX, as used by Rebekah Fell, is a high-mobility assault unit oriented towards mid-to-long range engagement. Though capable in close combat, it is meant to avoid it; due to its light armor any strike in close combat is likely to be critical, and strikes cannot be easily avoided in close quarters. |
3,654 | 82 | 30 | 1,826 | 1,162 | Inside the cockpit of the quirky experimental GM, one particularly bold Newtype coquette had removed his helmet and pushed back his long mop of obsidian hair, revealing the two stripes of electric blue he had dyed underneath his bangs. Dallas Grenier breathed one long exhale into the crook of his elbow before cracking open the sanctuary that was his cockpit and making his way down. Another Federation pilot had lined up right alongside him, and was standing in front of the Metal Spider.
She had a bun in her hair. And buns in...
Ah, mon Dieu.
Quelle jolie derrière.
Dallas sidled up alongside the stoic special ops pilot as though he'd known her all his life, and casually rested his elbow on one of her no-doubt-in-need-of-unknotting shoulders. He was smiling in the direction of the Zeonic mobile suits cheerfully.
"I've been distracted," the solicitous French whore said cheerfully. "But I'm sure I could spare a look or two as soon as I've been properly ensured of the honor of those assembled! I mean, not that I'm not comfortable with a ceasefire. It's just that I'm not accustomed to hearing them called ten seconds after ferocious Sieg Zeons, eh? It gives me whiplash. My poor neck..." | Name: Dallas Matthieu Renatus Grenier ("Dal," "Dally," "Matty Magnum," "The Sundance Kid," "Arc de Triunffffff")
Age: 19
Appearance:
Origin: Colonies, with Parisien upbringing
Faction: EFSF
Newtype: Yes.
Personality: Though not a dyed-in-the-wool Zeon lover by any means, Dallas isn't exactly a "truth, justice, and kissing babies on the head" kind of war hero - nor is he a brooding wreck who sobs about the lives he's taken whenever he leaves the cockpit . Rather, his personality flaws all lay in his poor attitude in general. Intentionally needling, irreverent, and quick to anger, the mercurial young man loves to pout and roll his eyes with aplomb, and his Cheshire grin is just as often intended to make someone else roll their eyes right back at him. He's not without his vanity either, often going out of his way to emphasize his own attractiveness or flirt with others. Noted pansexual.
Despite his love of being the bad boy, the French brat has a heart of gold somewhere underneath the jackassery. Bold and fearless to a fault, his incessant need to talk often belies his Newtype prowess, superb oratory skills and a creative mind. It's not rare for you to shut Dallas up only to find yourself thinking later on how there were some good ideas underneath the stream of jokes, come-ons, and curses.
Backstory: Born to a pair of ne'er-do-wells on Shangri-La in Side 1, the boy who would later take the alias Dallas Grenier never knew anything but chaos. His father was a drinking and ambivalent young man who hardly cared when his son was taken away by his girlfriend; Dallas was brought without conflict to his mother's native Paris at the age of 4 and served as her anchor throughout a life wrought with tension and vice. Always an adventurous, reckless, and open-hearted child, the young Parisien grew up at the heart of his mother's life of partying, prescriptions, and solicitation - and, under the impression that this was something resembling a normal life, fell into all the same traps as he grew older.
Somehow (through what he regarded throughout childhood as a guardian angel, and later learned was Newtype prowess) he was successful enough at his chosen vocations - fighting, prostitution, theft, scams, and sweet talking - to keep paying off fines for the majority of his teens, but eventually even the boy's luck ran out. He was caught and arrested less than a month before Operation British on a number of charges and, unable to pay off all his charges or talk his way out of his situation, was thrown into jail. However, a few months into the war between the Earth Federation and Side 3, he was approached in jail with what seemed like a fair proposition:
Either devote his worthless life to the Federation and be among the first testers of the Federation's jury-rigged poor man's psycommu system, or die like a rat on the off chance the next colony fell on Paris while he rotted away in jail.
With those two rosy options before him, the young con man took on the alias of Dallas Grenier for the purposes of enlisting in the Earth Federation, and found surprising success behind the cockpit of his custom GM Juggler.
Mobile Suit: RGM-79X-PT GM Juggler Custom "La Hire"
La Hire sports Dallas' own custom paint job, with electric blue armor over the alabaster frame and two black RB-79K Ball Type Ks on the shoulders. A beam-coated shield has been added for protection in an effort to protect the Juggler's reckless pilot further.
Armaments:
-60mm Vulcans
-HWF GMG·MG79-90mm Bullpup Machine Gun
-Beam-Treated FADEGEL RGM-M-Sh-003 Shield
-Newtype-Use Shoulder-Mounted Laser Remote-Controlled RB-79 Ball Type K w/Beam Rifles (x2) |
3,655 | 82 | 31 | 511 | 3,294 | BRIZO BADAMISH
The Act Zaku drifted lazily into the hangar area, seemingly uncaring of the dangers that could be present within, such as the presence of three Federation mobile suits who had an easy shot at her. It would be pretty hard to dodge when inside, especially when a bad movement could crush her against a wall or ceiling. But Brizo wasn't really too worried as she expertly guided her machine further and further in, shifting its position for a landing. All the Federation pilots seemed to be getting out of their MS, so even if they did try and attack, she could still kill them more quickly than they could her. That probably wasn't going to happen though.
And besides, they still had the rest of the war to kill each other. No rush.
The Act Zaku quietly landed, its heavy metal legs thumping on contact with the ground. Brizo slowly began to unlatch herself from the seat as the machine clicked satisfyingly, and opened up the cockpit, poking her head out. The girl was still wearing her helmet, but even from a distance, it was pretty obvious what her gender was.
She quietly slipped out of the machine, glancing over at the Federation pilots. | Name: Brizo Badamish
Age: 17
Gender: Female
Appearance:
Origin: Spacenoid
Faction: Flanagan Institute, Principality of Zeon
Newtype: Yes
Personality: First glance, total doormat. Like, if you were to swagger up to the door of somebody's house and look down, Brizo Badamish would be lying flat on the ground, completely uncaring even if you decided to wipe your shoes on her back. Tell her to jump, and she'd jump. Tell her to steal some files from your rival scientist's office, and she'll work as your resident gopher for less than minimum wage. She doesn't protest at all.
Actually, all of that's a lie.
Brizo Badamish is a pretty intelligent and helpful person, correct. That's less because she'll let anybody walk over her, but because she really doesn't like sticking her head out and getting bothered for little things. It isn't a massive fuss if someone wants her to grab them a coffee, but it gets real tiresome if she's lying aorund and a scientist berates her for not doing any work. Besides, she likes work, whether it be doing odd jobs or piloting a giant robot; it takes her mind off things and is generally pretty relaxing.
She's sorta airheaded in that regard, but despite that she's actually pretty good at what she does (even if it looks like she's half-arsing it).
On a personal level, Brizo actually has a sense of humour. She likes jokes, no matter how shitty they may be, and will casually share them if you ever feel like asking. Her hobbies actually include hitting the joke books for them, as well as watching cartoons (the other kids at the orphanage always hogged the single cathode-ray television they managed to salvage). She is a bit eccentric though when you interact with her (hence the airhead label), and at times may be innocently insulting (that might be a lie, nobody actually knows if she's fucking with us yet). However, she's a solid pal, but if she does find things to be overly tiring or fussy, expect complaints and grumbling.
She has a reasonably screwed-on set of morals too.
Backstory: A native of Side 3, Brizo Badamish spent her formative years under the rule of the Republic of Zeon (and later, Principality) without parents, instead growing up under the care of a local orphanage. During this time, she began to manifest signs of Newtype potential, and was soon recruited into the fledgling Flanagan Institute by the age of ten as a test subject. However, with the addition of more skilled and more powerful subjects, her duties soon became far more mundane, such as acting as a gopher for the scientists or background filler for her more special compatriots' flashback scenes.
And that may have been her eventual fate, as another forgettable Newtype, had she not been assigned to test the Institute's Newtype weapons.
Indeed, Brizo quickly displayed signs of impressive piloting skills (helped along by reading the gigantic instruction manuals beforehand), and the Institute realised that they could make better use of her by shoving her into whatever mobile suit or mobile armor of the week they had developed to see how things worked. It was a pretty good deal for her, especially with the increased food allocation and whatnot, and so she continued to familiarise herself with the machines (and growing slightly attached to her favourite, the Brawrello).
Flanagan's also lending her out to the Zeon space forces for more data these days, hence why you can see her hanging around.
Other: She's voiced by Minori Chihara.
---
MOBILE WEAPON
MS-11 ACT ZAKU
Unit type: mass production general purpose mobile suit
Armor materials: super hard steel alloy
Powerplant: Minovsky type ultracompact fusion reactor, output rated at 1440 kW
Propulsion: rocket thrusters: total output 64800 kg
Equipment and design features: sensors, range 3600 meters; magnetic coated joints
Armaments: beam rifle, power by rechargeable energy cap; machine gun; bullpup gun; heat hawk; heat saber x 2
MAN-00X-2 BRAWRELLO
Unit type: prototype Newtype use mobile armor
Equipment: psycommu system
Armaments: wired mega particle cannon x 2, wired heat claw x 2, diffuse mega particle cannon x 1, quadruple missile launcher x 2 |
3,656 | 82 | 32 | 1,288 | 1,329 | The Act Zaku was surveyed with a steely gaze. Rebekah watched it float into the colony and set itself down, committing as many details of its design to memory as possible. She observed the pilot as well, though mostly for her own curiosity. She wasn't sure what she had expected a Newtype to look like, but she didn't quite fit the bill.
Neither, admittedly, did the Frenchman that had elected to rest an arm on her shoulders. He was greeted with a cool stare for his trouble.
"I am inclined to agree with my compatriot. While a ceasefire benefits us all, it has not escaped my notice that several of you were very active combatants up until a moment ago." | Name: Rebekah Cross
Age: 19
Gender: Female
Appearance: Standing 5’10”, Rebekah Fell tends to be rather striking for a few reasons. The contrast of her pitch black hair and skin as pale as a Spacenoid that has never set foot on Earth is the first, accented by the middle ground of her gray Federation uniform. Said uniform is always immaculate and pressed, the picture of attention to detail. Her cap is always worn, as well, as it serves to conceal the fact that her hair is most definitely not regulation length. It is always tied up and concealed under her cap in public, but falls down to her waist when let loose. It is her sole deviation from protocol, and one she is oddly protective of.
She cuts a striking, unusually curvy figure though her build is downplayed by the rigid contours of the standard Federation uniform. Her posture and movements, like her demeanor, are rigid and militaristic as though she is perpetually at attention. Her featured could be considered pretty, but the effect is significantly diminished by the inscrutably cold neutrality that always adorns her features. Her violet eyes are always alert, roaming her surroundings with great intensity even when she seems (as close as she gets to) relaxed.
Origin: Earthnoid
Faction: EFSF
Newtype: Quite possibly. As an Earthnoid, Rebekah has not spent the time in space necessary to awaken any latent Newtype potential. She has however demonstrated an exceptional understanding of her position in space, even in a three-dimensional environment like space, and unusually swift reaction times. Neither necessarily guarantees Newtype potential, as both could merely be natural skill, but time in space may awaken said latent potential.
Personality: Cold. Aloof. Dispassionate. These, and other synonyms, would be the impression someone meeting Rebekah for the first time would probably give. The GM pilot is not an easy woman to get to know. Her tendency to keep everyone at arm’s length is mostly surface-deep, and anyone who spends time around her is bound to catch glimpses past it. She is highly loyal and protective to her comrades, whether she shows any sign of it or not. No one gets left behind if she can help it, and every pilot that fails to come back from a battle is a personal failing to her.
Anyone who manages to befriend her has earned a friend for life. Friendship is not something she takes lightly, and she will stop at nothing to help or protect a friend. Nothing is of higher importance. Rebekah is a warm, quirky girl with an amusing fondness for desserts if you manage to get past the surface. What she feels passionate about, be it a hobby or an ideal, she is very passionate about.
Backstory: There is little to say about Rebekah Fell’s early life. She was born to a university professor and an accountant and raised in a modest home. Her performance in school was above average, though not extremely, and she maintained a close circle of friends throughout her childhood. Her aspirations, as she aged, seemed geared mostly towards a good college education and a comfortable, albeit quiet, life. She was an avid athlete, mostly of the track and martial arts variety, but her athletics were mostly just hobbies.
The growing tensions between Earth and Side 3, and ultimately the outbreak of the One Year War, changed all of that. Though not personally affected Rebekah lost friends to Operation British and the early days of the war, as everyone did. The atrocities hardened her, and she enlisted without hesitation in the Federation’s forces when their recruitment drive began.
Rebekah was actually an early pilot of the Ball, and one of the fortunate ones who survived their time as a pilot of the spherical coffin. Her reflexes served her extremely well as the pilot of such a mobile, but poorly armored, unit. The experience carried over extremely well when she was issued an RGM-79 GM, giving her an edge that less experienced combatants lacked. As time marched on, and variations of the base GM were developed, Rebekah began to specialize into units that would maximize her maneuverability and firepower, usually at the detriment of armor. While many struggled with such suits, her time in the Ball proved invaluable. The culmination of this is her Striker EX, customized slightly to suit her needs, a unit that she is quite affectionate towards.
Other Info: Born UC 0060, O- blood type, maintains an extensive personal collection of movies and television to watch in her quarters.
Mobile Suit Info:
RGM-79-FP-S1 GM Striker EX
Weapons/Equipment:
-2x 60mm Vulcans
-Beam Saber
-AE/ZIM.HK Type-4 Heat knife
-YHI RAQ-SS-Wp Sashot Anchor: Arm-mounted launcher intended to embed its spike in a target (enemy unit, enemy ship, asteroid, etc) attached to a long metal retractable cable. Mounted on the right arm.
-YHI 1GL-84SB Grenade Launcher Anchor: Sidearm that launches explosive spikes that embed in the target before exploding.
-L9 Type Beam Rifle: Long range beam rifle with fold-out bipod. Mounted horizontally on the back in place of a second knife.
-BOWA BR-M-84H-H-4 Type Beam Rifle: Handheld, primary weapon.
-RGM*S-Sh-WF/S-00109 (Renpou GUNDAM Mass-produced Small Shield: Shield taken from ground-use GMs, stock save for beam coating added for Rebekah’s use. Mounted on left forearm.
-Thermal Visor: Thermal imaging system mounted on, and deployable from, the forehead.
The GM Striker EX, nicknamed Metal Spider by some due to its thermal visor, is a general use custom mobile suit created from the ground-use, close-combat-oriented GM Striker. The Striker EX features additional thrusters that allow for extremely high acceleration at the cost of armor and ballistic protection. The Striker EX, as used by Rebekah Fell, is a high-mobility assault unit oriented towards mid-to-long range engagement. Though capable in close combat, it is meant to avoid it; due to its light armor any strike in close combat is likely to be critical, and strikes cannot be easily avoided in close quarters. |
3,657 | 82 | 33 | 2,325 | 2,408 | Levi gripped her side pistol a bit tighter the feddie pilots was right not that she ever admit it but they had no reason to team up no matter how temp such was the way of war. She was sure those she fought and probably killed would probably have shot first before even thinking of working together with her. "There is no point and if you dont wish to work leave I will not shoot" Levi said as she loosened her grip around the pistol. "The situation is this right now we are both stranded her on neurtral territory with that said we can't really attack each other without getting the powers above flying down on our heads so with that said ill be going to hide my gouf" She said as she turned around and walked towards her gouf it was in their courts if they wished to stop her they would if not she would find a way to contact her commanding officer by herself. | Name: Roan Oakley
Age: 18
Gender: Female
Appearance: Roan is roughly 5'9", enough to be considered on the taller end of the spectrum, but her figure is very unremarkable with little curves, though in uniform her slight bottom-heaviness is more easily noted. Her is made out into a mane of gentle spikes, edged like waves, and colored a light blond that fades to a pale platinum at the ends. Her eyes are ringed a little, and some say it's from lack of sleep, but the green orbs are always alert and searching no matter what her expression may look like. Her shoulders droop often and she seems the exact opposite of what a lot of Federation pilots are supposed to be, but her skill should not be judged on appearances alone.
Origin: Roan is considered an oddity, because her birth certificate actually lists her as coming from the space colony Londonian whereas her place of residence, until her induction into the military, was a relatively small city far removed from most other Federation operations. As such, Roan and the populace have an abject view of the issues that have been plaguing the colonies and the Federation as a whole, having not relied on the Federation or too much more than the local government for much in years. The rumor is, and the one she doesn't try to wave away, is that her parents brought her down from the colonies so she wouldn't be referred to as a 'Spacenoid' or be treated as someone from the space colonies. This has not been entirely avoided however, as it shows up on her records whenever she transfers units.
Faction: Currently aligned with the Federation, as part of its EFSF mobile suit divisions.
Newtype: Possible yes. She has exhibited a much higher level of 3D spatial awareness than most candidates, allowing her to 'think' in 3D and plan accordingly.
Personality: The best old age word that could be used to describe her is 'hick.' Not in the way of the Old South in what used to be America, but instead to refer to someone that is insular or uninformed. Roan is known to not particularly care about the Federation's interests, nor the entirety of the conflict with Zeon during the One Year War, and is often mocked and derided for not buying into the whole patriot aspect of the military. In fact, she is oftentimes suggested to be a spy with her aloof attitude and apathetic expression, using her colony heritage against her whenever she fails to respond appropriately. Most of this however rolls off of her shoulders as she's not in it for the patriotism or glory, but more to find herself and understand what's going on outside the sphere of her hometown. This is not to say she's completely uneducated; in fact, so far as academics go, she's fairly top-notch.
Backstory: Having grown up in what could be considered a future-type backwoods city, a modern era center where most everything was up to date and yet kept away from the conflict overtaking the rest of the Earth Federation's known holdings, Roan could've been considered a bit sheltered compared to most of the Federation's enlisted personnel. She knew relatively little of the Federation's stance against Zeon and of Zeon's intentions, but it wasn't due to completely willful ignorance. Having seen mobile suit combat on the news feed and seen what took place between the two factions, she decided to broaden her horizon by moving to the place where raw, human emotion and the passionate wills of the people existed, perhaps even twisted to be unrecognizable, and to experience what had been going on herself. Her upbringing and file almost had her canned as a ground troop, an easy sacrifice for the cause, but her skill, intelligence, and fast reflexes quickly forced the Federation to preclude her from fodder. The academy, though rife with bullying, threats, and overall prejudice towards her birth status and her upbringing in the furthest place from the frontlines besides the bourgeois, was the proper kind of challenge for her to try and extend her skillset. Thus, she found during mobile suit simulated exercises and tactical analyses classes that her perception as a whole was much greater than the average person, and on a level above those who had a good grasp of awareness above them. Despite her spacey attitude, this earned her the grudging respect of some of her fellow pilot trainees, and lead to early success in her initial combat sorties. The horrors of war have reached her, but she doesn't lock them away. She prefers to ruminate on them and mourn quietly, lest the bloodbath and madness suck her in.
Other Info: Not a sweets person, but loves fish and fruit. Fish and chips is her favorite ration meal. Writes in her spare time. Doodles in the same notebook. Listens to a variety of music. Can be found in time between sorties on the observation decks, gazing into space.
RGM-79 GM, specifically a model used in the Thunderbolt Sector. Equipped with a Core Block system, and can be fashioned with a thruster pack equipped with two sub arms which are generally used to hold a pair of shields, a double-barreled beam weapon, and the standard issue beam spray gun.
Lately, it seems she's been trying to add different weapons to her arsenal and tactics. Chaff and minovsky particle dispersal have been one set of unusual equipment she's attempted to have applied, as well as small missile or rocket packs or an extra beam spray gun. |
3,658 | 82 | 34 | 1,826 | 1,162 | Dallas watched the tyke-bomb waltz back off to her beaten-up Gouf for a few seconds before he shrugged lazily, as if resigned to her decision, and plopped down on the foot of his GM with a lilting sigh. His eyes were closed, but he didn't need them to see the absolutely precious skyward-roll of the Lieutenant's eyes in front of him, or watch her cute little face scrunch up in disdain.
He smiled effortlessly and popped open a bottle of water he'd been keeping in his cockpit, tilting it back - along with his head - and taking a few short, quick gulps of fluid. He wasn't about to drain the bottle, especially in case there wasn't any within walking distance that he could find for later. Still, he had gotten thirsty, and a small drop or two of water ran down his bottom lip as he pulled the water away reluctantly.
Eyes still closed, the Newtype guinea pig ran a few white teeth along the left-hand surface of his bottom lip, scraping up the moisture with a contented sigh.
"Aah."
With the languid ease, grace, and utter entitlement of a spoiled kitten, Dallas patted a space on the Juggler's foot wide enough for even LTJG Fell's...AMBAC to fit comfortably. | Name: Dallas Matthieu Renatus Grenier ("Dal," "Dally," "Matty Magnum," "The Sundance Kid," "Arc de Triunffffff")
Age: 19
Appearance:
Origin: Colonies, with Parisien upbringing
Faction: EFSF
Newtype: Yes.
Personality: Though not a dyed-in-the-wool Zeon lover by any means, Dallas isn't exactly a "truth, justice, and kissing babies on the head" kind of war hero - nor is he a brooding wreck who sobs about the lives he's taken whenever he leaves the cockpit . Rather, his personality flaws all lay in his poor attitude in general. Intentionally needling, irreverent, and quick to anger, the mercurial young man loves to pout and roll his eyes with aplomb, and his Cheshire grin is just as often intended to make someone else roll their eyes right back at him. He's not without his vanity either, often going out of his way to emphasize his own attractiveness or flirt with others. Noted pansexual.
Despite his love of being the bad boy, the French brat has a heart of gold somewhere underneath the jackassery. Bold and fearless to a fault, his incessant need to talk often belies his Newtype prowess, superb oratory skills and a creative mind. It's not rare for you to shut Dallas up only to find yourself thinking later on how there were some good ideas underneath the stream of jokes, come-ons, and curses.
Backstory: Born to a pair of ne'er-do-wells on Shangri-La in Side 1, the boy who would later take the alias Dallas Grenier never knew anything but chaos. His father was a drinking and ambivalent young man who hardly cared when his son was taken away by his girlfriend; Dallas was brought without conflict to his mother's native Paris at the age of 4 and served as her anchor throughout a life wrought with tension and vice. Always an adventurous, reckless, and open-hearted child, the young Parisien grew up at the heart of his mother's life of partying, prescriptions, and solicitation - and, under the impression that this was something resembling a normal life, fell into all the same traps as he grew older.
Somehow (through what he regarded throughout childhood as a guardian angel, and later learned was Newtype prowess) he was successful enough at his chosen vocations - fighting, prostitution, theft, scams, and sweet talking - to keep paying off fines for the majority of his teens, but eventually even the boy's luck ran out. He was caught and arrested less than a month before Operation British on a number of charges and, unable to pay off all his charges or talk his way out of his situation, was thrown into jail. However, a few months into the war between the Earth Federation and Side 3, he was approached in jail with what seemed like a fair proposition:
Either devote his worthless life to the Federation and be among the first testers of the Federation's jury-rigged poor man's psycommu system, or die like a rat on the off chance the next colony fell on Paris while he rotted away in jail.
With those two rosy options before him, the young con man took on the alias of Dallas Grenier for the purposes of enlisting in the Earth Federation, and found surprising success behind the cockpit of his custom GM Juggler.
Mobile Suit: RGM-79X-PT GM Juggler Custom "La Hire"
La Hire sports Dallas' own custom paint job, with electric blue armor over the alabaster frame and two black RB-79K Ball Type Ks on the shoulders. A beam-coated shield has been added for protection in an effort to protect the Juggler's reckless pilot further.
Armaments:
-60mm Vulcans
-HWF GMG·MG79-90mm Bullpup Machine Gun
-Beam-Treated FADEGEL RGM-M-Sh-003 Shield
-Newtype-Use Shoulder-Mounted Laser Remote-Controlled RB-79 Ball Type K w/Beam Rifles (x2) |
3,659 | 82 | 35 | 1,288 | 1,329 | “I am not sure how she intends to hide something that big and blue.”
The remark was directed mostly to herself, and certainly not loud enough for her new ‘friend’ with the Gouf to hear, but the other Federation pilot might have. Rebekah’s gun stayed in her hand while the Zeon pilot headed to her machine; letting her guard down around an enemy combatant was asking for trouble. It wasn't returned to its holster until the Lieutenant was satisfied of her departure, at which point she turned her attention to the other headache around her.
She eyed the space the Frenchman pointed out, thinking about whether it was large enough to sit on without getting too close, before lowering her AMBAC herself onto it carefully and shifted until she found a somewhat comfortable position. The lure of her own water bottle was tempting but she dared not waste any. Her problem was heat, not dehydration; by design normal suits didn't exactly breathe, hence why she hadn't zipped the front back up. Once she was cool she wouldn't be so thirsty.
“We find ourselves in a predicament. What was your name again, Frenchman?” | Name: Rebekah Cross
Age: 19
Gender: Female
Appearance: Standing 5’10”, Rebekah Fell tends to be rather striking for a few reasons. The contrast of her pitch black hair and skin as pale as a Spacenoid that has never set foot on Earth is the first, accented by the middle ground of her gray Federation uniform. Said uniform is always immaculate and pressed, the picture of attention to detail. Her cap is always worn, as well, as it serves to conceal the fact that her hair is most definitely not regulation length. It is always tied up and concealed under her cap in public, but falls down to her waist when let loose. It is her sole deviation from protocol, and one she is oddly protective of.
She cuts a striking, unusually curvy figure though her build is downplayed by the rigid contours of the standard Federation uniform. Her posture and movements, like her demeanor, are rigid and militaristic as though she is perpetually at attention. Her featured could be considered pretty, but the effect is significantly diminished by the inscrutably cold neutrality that always adorns her features. Her violet eyes are always alert, roaming her surroundings with great intensity even when she seems (as close as she gets to) relaxed.
Origin: Earthnoid
Faction: EFSF
Newtype: Quite possibly. As an Earthnoid, Rebekah has not spent the time in space necessary to awaken any latent Newtype potential. She has however demonstrated an exceptional understanding of her position in space, even in a three-dimensional environment like space, and unusually swift reaction times. Neither necessarily guarantees Newtype potential, as both could merely be natural skill, but time in space may awaken said latent potential.
Personality: Cold. Aloof. Dispassionate. These, and other synonyms, would be the impression someone meeting Rebekah for the first time would probably give. The GM pilot is not an easy woman to get to know. Her tendency to keep everyone at arm’s length is mostly surface-deep, and anyone who spends time around her is bound to catch glimpses past it. She is highly loyal and protective to her comrades, whether she shows any sign of it or not. No one gets left behind if she can help it, and every pilot that fails to come back from a battle is a personal failing to her.
Anyone who manages to befriend her has earned a friend for life. Friendship is not something she takes lightly, and she will stop at nothing to help or protect a friend. Nothing is of higher importance. Rebekah is a warm, quirky girl with an amusing fondness for desserts if you manage to get past the surface. What she feels passionate about, be it a hobby or an ideal, she is very passionate about.
Backstory: There is little to say about Rebekah Fell’s early life. She was born to a university professor and an accountant and raised in a modest home. Her performance in school was above average, though not extremely, and she maintained a close circle of friends throughout her childhood. Her aspirations, as she aged, seemed geared mostly towards a good college education and a comfortable, albeit quiet, life. She was an avid athlete, mostly of the track and martial arts variety, but her athletics were mostly just hobbies.
The growing tensions between Earth and Side 3, and ultimately the outbreak of the One Year War, changed all of that. Though not personally affected Rebekah lost friends to Operation British and the early days of the war, as everyone did. The atrocities hardened her, and she enlisted without hesitation in the Federation’s forces when their recruitment drive began.
Rebekah was actually an early pilot of the Ball, and one of the fortunate ones who survived their time as a pilot of the spherical coffin. Her reflexes served her extremely well as the pilot of such a mobile, but poorly armored, unit. The experience carried over extremely well when she was issued an RGM-79 GM, giving her an edge that less experienced combatants lacked. As time marched on, and variations of the base GM were developed, Rebekah began to specialize into units that would maximize her maneuverability and firepower, usually at the detriment of armor. While many struggled with such suits, her time in the Ball proved invaluable. The culmination of this is her Striker EX, customized slightly to suit her needs, a unit that she is quite affectionate towards.
Other Info: Born UC 0060, O- blood type, maintains an extensive personal collection of movies and television to watch in her quarters.
Mobile Suit Info:
RGM-79-FP-S1 GM Striker EX
Weapons/Equipment:
-2x 60mm Vulcans
-Beam Saber
-AE/ZIM.HK Type-4 Heat knife
-YHI RAQ-SS-Wp Sashot Anchor: Arm-mounted launcher intended to embed its spike in a target (enemy unit, enemy ship, asteroid, etc) attached to a long metal retractable cable. Mounted on the right arm.
-YHI 1GL-84SB Grenade Launcher Anchor: Sidearm that launches explosive spikes that embed in the target before exploding.
-L9 Type Beam Rifle: Long range beam rifle with fold-out bipod. Mounted horizontally on the back in place of a second knife.
-BOWA BR-M-84H-H-4 Type Beam Rifle: Handheld, primary weapon.
-RGM*S-Sh-WF/S-00109 (Renpou GUNDAM Mass-produced Small Shield: Shield taken from ground-use GMs, stock save for beam coating added for Rebekah’s use. Mounted on left forearm.
-Thermal Visor: Thermal imaging system mounted on, and deployable from, the forehead.
The GM Striker EX, nicknamed Metal Spider by some due to its thermal visor, is a general use custom mobile suit created from the ground-use, close-combat-oriented GM Striker. The Striker EX features additional thrusters that allow for extremely high acceleration at the cost of armor and ballistic protection. The Striker EX, as used by Rebekah Fell, is a high-mobility assault unit oriented towards mid-to-long range engagement. Though capable in close combat, it is meant to avoid it; due to its light armor any strike in close combat is likely to be critical, and strikes cannot be easily avoided in close quarters. |
3,660 | 82 | 36 | 1,826 | 1,162 | Ah, so our fair Artemis is a tease.
How haughtily, ignorantly salacious of her. A man with lesser poise or remaining integrity may have been dumbstruck by the sight of Rebekah's unzipped normal suit, but Dallas Grenier was of a more debased, lecherous stock, and merely gave the foreign Sides around him a proud look of appraisal before he let his head slump backwards and yawned lazily. His raven hair spilled back, now that it was freed of a helmet and any loose ties; the highlights of aqua underneath his bangs grew brighter, imbibing in the dim light of the catatonic colony.
Electric blue eyes rolled to the left to regard her again. Briefly, his peripheral vision strayed southwest, and his vision focused as though a film had been lifted from his face.
flash
Six senses were truly better than five.
"Dallas Grenier, Lieutenant, Newtype test pilot, a deplorable slut plucked from the depths of the Seine. Charmed to meet you, ma rossignol, but I beg to differ. I think we're in the most comfortable position out of anyone on this colony." The French pilot's smile became conspiratorial. "These Zeeks, these opportunistic Zabi bastards, weren't waiting for our fleet all the way out here, near a neutral Side, without a good reason, right? There's a Federation base somewhere that they wanted cleaned up - a base that would no doubt take us in, give or take a few days of uncomfortable vetting. There's a Federation embassy at Side 6, too. We could be there in a couple days, maybe sooner if we're picked up by locals. No doubt the vetting there would involve a hotel, a hot shower, and complementary breakfast, but who knows when we'd see the front lines again."
The Newtype's cutting smile made his way to Rebekah.
"I still have your GM's beam rifle. And the Balls. If they did try to stop us, I could clean them out before you could say Marianne and be on our way. We could make either trip with little risk." | Name: Dallas Matthieu Renatus Grenier ("Dal," "Dally," "Matty Magnum," "The Sundance Kid," "Arc de Triunffffff")
Age: 19
Appearance:
Origin: Colonies, with Parisien upbringing
Faction: EFSF
Newtype: Yes.
Personality: Though not a dyed-in-the-wool Zeon lover by any means, Dallas isn't exactly a "truth, justice, and kissing babies on the head" kind of war hero - nor is he a brooding wreck who sobs about the lives he's taken whenever he leaves the cockpit . Rather, his personality flaws all lay in his poor attitude in general. Intentionally needling, irreverent, and quick to anger, the mercurial young man loves to pout and roll his eyes with aplomb, and his Cheshire grin is just as often intended to make someone else roll their eyes right back at him. He's not without his vanity either, often going out of his way to emphasize his own attractiveness or flirt with others. Noted pansexual.
Despite his love of being the bad boy, the French brat has a heart of gold somewhere underneath the jackassery. Bold and fearless to a fault, his incessant need to talk often belies his Newtype prowess, superb oratory skills and a creative mind. It's not rare for you to shut Dallas up only to find yourself thinking later on how there were some good ideas underneath the stream of jokes, come-ons, and curses.
Backstory: Born to a pair of ne'er-do-wells on Shangri-La in Side 1, the boy who would later take the alias Dallas Grenier never knew anything but chaos. His father was a drinking and ambivalent young man who hardly cared when his son was taken away by his girlfriend; Dallas was brought without conflict to his mother's native Paris at the age of 4 and served as her anchor throughout a life wrought with tension and vice. Always an adventurous, reckless, and open-hearted child, the young Parisien grew up at the heart of his mother's life of partying, prescriptions, and solicitation - and, under the impression that this was something resembling a normal life, fell into all the same traps as he grew older.
Somehow (through what he regarded throughout childhood as a guardian angel, and later learned was Newtype prowess) he was successful enough at his chosen vocations - fighting, prostitution, theft, scams, and sweet talking - to keep paying off fines for the majority of his teens, but eventually even the boy's luck ran out. He was caught and arrested less than a month before Operation British on a number of charges and, unable to pay off all his charges or talk his way out of his situation, was thrown into jail. However, a few months into the war between the Earth Federation and Side 3, he was approached in jail with what seemed like a fair proposition:
Either devote his worthless life to the Federation and be among the first testers of the Federation's jury-rigged poor man's psycommu system, or die like a rat on the off chance the next colony fell on Paris while he rotted away in jail.
With those two rosy options before him, the young con man took on the alias of Dallas Grenier for the purposes of enlisting in the Earth Federation, and found surprising success behind the cockpit of his custom GM Juggler.
Mobile Suit: RGM-79X-PT GM Juggler Custom "La Hire"
La Hire sports Dallas' own custom paint job, with electric blue armor over the alabaster frame and two black RB-79K Ball Type Ks on the shoulders. A beam-coated shield has been added for protection in an effort to protect the Juggler's reckless pilot further.
Armaments:
-60mm Vulcans
-HWF GMG·MG79-90mm Bullpup Machine Gun
-Beam-Treated FADEGEL RGM-M-Sh-003 Shield
-Newtype-Use Shoulder-Mounted Laser Remote-Controlled RB-79 Ball Type K w/Beam Rifles (x2) |
3,661 | 82 | 37 | 511 | 3,294 | BRIZO BADAMISH
The young Gouf pilot had already gotten fed up (heh, that was a good joke) with the Federation pilots, and was floating off to deal with their situation on their lonesome. While she didn't know if it was right to doubt her fellow Zeonics so easily, Brizo wondered how exactly the child would find a way to contact their allies. Abandoned stations may have had communications arrays, but whether or not they worked was a question, and would there be anyone in range? Although even a bit of a blip would alert Zeon; she just needed the Flanagan Institute to know the general location of where she and her machine was. They would come pick up her corpse and any recoverable test data, and instead they'd have a perfectly intact her and perfectly intact test data. Waiting seemed like the best bet for her, but hopefully they didn't run out of food first. She needed food and water to live.
Why did that girl want to hide her Gouf anyway? If the Federation pilots decided to break the truce, wouldn't it be better to have it be closer so a firefight didn't end with them going completely splat? Maybe the special forces had their own way of doing things.
Speaking of the Federation pilots, however ...
Brizo rested her chin on steepled hands, golden eyes staring at the woman who looked to be pilot of that edgy GM. The woman that she had reacted to during that battle. Now that everything was settling down, she could admit that she could feel ... something, from that woman. Sorta like familiarity, or a general coolness? Was that woman really a Federation Newtype? Had the Feddies really gotten so far that some were already becoming Newtypes? Her bosses would be interested in that.
But she needed to confirm.
Was there really a way to do that? None of the others at the Institute really needed to be confirmed, but she supposed she'd try something out. Maybe it would work, maybe it wouldn't, but if there was a reaction from that pilot, then she'd know. She scrunched up her eyes, and ... felt out her presence. | Name: Brizo Badamish
Age: 17
Gender: Female
Appearance:
Origin: Spacenoid
Faction: Flanagan Institute, Principality of Zeon
Newtype: Yes
Personality: First glance, total doormat. Like, if you were to swagger up to the door of somebody's house and look down, Brizo Badamish would be lying flat on the ground, completely uncaring even if you decided to wipe your shoes on her back. Tell her to jump, and she'd jump. Tell her to steal some files from your rival scientist's office, and she'll work as your resident gopher for less than minimum wage. She doesn't protest at all.
Actually, all of that's a lie.
Brizo Badamish is a pretty intelligent and helpful person, correct. That's less because she'll let anybody walk over her, but because she really doesn't like sticking her head out and getting bothered for little things. It isn't a massive fuss if someone wants her to grab them a coffee, but it gets real tiresome if she's lying aorund and a scientist berates her for not doing any work. Besides, she likes work, whether it be doing odd jobs or piloting a giant robot; it takes her mind off things and is generally pretty relaxing.
She's sorta airheaded in that regard, but despite that she's actually pretty good at what she does (even if it looks like she's half-arsing it).
On a personal level, Brizo actually has a sense of humour. She likes jokes, no matter how shitty they may be, and will casually share them if you ever feel like asking. Her hobbies actually include hitting the joke books for them, as well as watching cartoons (the other kids at the orphanage always hogged the single cathode-ray television they managed to salvage). She is a bit eccentric though when you interact with her (hence the airhead label), and at times may be innocently insulting (that might be a lie, nobody actually knows if she's fucking with us yet). However, she's a solid pal, but if she does find things to be overly tiring or fussy, expect complaints and grumbling.
She has a reasonably screwed-on set of morals too.
Backstory: A native of Side 3, Brizo Badamish spent her formative years under the rule of the Republic of Zeon (and later, Principality) without parents, instead growing up under the care of a local orphanage. During this time, she began to manifest signs of Newtype potential, and was soon recruited into the fledgling Flanagan Institute by the age of ten as a test subject. However, with the addition of more skilled and more powerful subjects, her duties soon became far more mundane, such as acting as a gopher for the scientists or background filler for her more special compatriots' flashback scenes.
And that may have been her eventual fate, as another forgettable Newtype, had she not been assigned to test the Institute's Newtype weapons.
Indeed, Brizo quickly displayed signs of impressive piloting skills (helped along by reading the gigantic instruction manuals beforehand), and the Institute realised that they could make better use of her by shoving her into whatever mobile suit or mobile armor of the week they had developed to see how things worked. It was a pretty good deal for her, especially with the increased food allocation and whatnot, and so she continued to familiarise herself with the machines (and growing slightly attached to her favourite, the Brawrello).
Flanagan's also lending her out to the Zeon space forces for more data these days, hence why you can see her hanging around.
Other: She's voiced by Minori Chihara.
---
MOBILE WEAPON
MS-11 ACT ZAKU
Unit type: mass production general purpose mobile suit
Armor materials: super hard steel alloy
Powerplant: Minovsky type ultracompact fusion reactor, output rated at 1440 kW
Propulsion: rocket thrusters: total output 64800 kg
Equipment and design features: sensors, range 3600 meters; magnetic coated joints
Armaments: beam rifle, power by rechargeable energy cap; machine gun; bullpup gun; heat hawk; heat saber x 2
MAN-00X-2 BRAWRELLO
Unit type: prototype Newtype use mobile armor
Equipment: psycommu system
Armaments: wired mega particle cannon x 2, wired heat claw x 2, diffuse mega particle cannon x 1, quadruple missile launcher x 2 |
3,662 | 82 | 38 | 1,288 | 1,329 | The Federation pilot bit her lip, mulling things over. Her French compatriot had a point. Though she wasn't sure the probability of a nearby base was enough to run the risk, they wouldn't know where to go, Side 6 was close. They could reach it without too much danger. Rebekah could get her GM up to top speed without too much propellant and then just coast on inertia. It was a more concrete possibility than whatever was on the colony.
The only real risk lay with her supplies. Would her air last that long? Very few things scared her, but… That did. Death in battle was vastly preferable to running out of air.
Hypothetically her supplies could last. Sixty hours, tops, to reach Side 6. Her mobile suit could sustain her for at least three days, and her normal suit had its own air supply. Her water world last, though maybe not comfortably, as would her rations. It was doable. Especially if they made a brief search for resources on the colony before setting out.
Her musings were interrupted by a… Nagging, in the back of her head. An irritating sensation that she couldn't place. Her eyes found the odd Zaku pilot, narrowing at the intensely concentrating Zeek. She was a Newtype, no doubt. So was Grenier next to her. Maybe she was catching some kind of interference between them? It was irritating, no doubt, and she briefly fixed the golden-eyed girl with an intense stare of her own.
“Wish she'd stop that.” Rebekah muttered under her breath before fixing her attention on Dallas again.
“We could make it to Side 6. Searching for a Federation base seems like a shot in the dark that I’d rather not risk. But Side 6 is sixty hours away at most, and our air should last that long. It won't be comfortable, but we could get there.”
The Lieutenant crossed her arms across her chest and leaned back against the Juggler’s foot.
“We should search the colony for any supplies nearby we can take with us, but Side 6 seems our best choice.” | Name: Rebekah Cross
Age: 19
Gender: Female
Appearance: Standing 5’10”, Rebekah Fell tends to be rather striking for a few reasons. The contrast of her pitch black hair and skin as pale as a Spacenoid that has never set foot on Earth is the first, accented by the middle ground of her gray Federation uniform. Said uniform is always immaculate and pressed, the picture of attention to detail. Her cap is always worn, as well, as it serves to conceal the fact that her hair is most definitely not regulation length. It is always tied up and concealed under her cap in public, but falls down to her waist when let loose. It is her sole deviation from protocol, and one she is oddly protective of.
She cuts a striking, unusually curvy figure though her build is downplayed by the rigid contours of the standard Federation uniform. Her posture and movements, like her demeanor, are rigid and militaristic as though she is perpetually at attention. Her featured could be considered pretty, but the effect is significantly diminished by the inscrutably cold neutrality that always adorns her features. Her violet eyes are always alert, roaming her surroundings with great intensity even when she seems (as close as she gets to) relaxed.
Origin: Earthnoid
Faction: EFSF
Newtype: Quite possibly. As an Earthnoid, Rebekah has not spent the time in space necessary to awaken any latent Newtype potential. She has however demonstrated an exceptional understanding of her position in space, even in a three-dimensional environment like space, and unusually swift reaction times. Neither necessarily guarantees Newtype potential, as both could merely be natural skill, but time in space may awaken said latent potential.
Personality: Cold. Aloof. Dispassionate. These, and other synonyms, would be the impression someone meeting Rebekah for the first time would probably give. The GM pilot is not an easy woman to get to know. Her tendency to keep everyone at arm’s length is mostly surface-deep, and anyone who spends time around her is bound to catch glimpses past it. She is highly loyal and protective to her comrades, whether she shows any sign of it or not. No one gets left behind if she can help it, and every pilot that fails to come back from a battle is a personal failing to her.
Anyone who manages to befriend her has earned a friend for life. Friendship is not something she takes lightly, and she will stop at nothing to help or protect a friend. Nothing is of higher importance. Rebekah is a warm, quirky girl with an amusing fondness for desserts if you manage to get past the surface. What she feels passionate about, be it a hobby or an ideal, she is very passionate about.
Backstory: There is little to say about Rebekah Fell’s early life. She was born to a university professor and an accountant and raised in a modest home. Her performance in school was above average, though not extremely, and she maintained a close circle of friends throughout her childhood. Her aspirations, as she aged, seemed geared mostly towards a good college education and a comfortable, albeit quiet, life. She was an avid athlete, mostly of the track and martial arts variety, but her athletics were mostly just hobbies.
The growing tensions between Earth and Side 3, and ultimately the outbreak of the One Year War, changed all of that. Though not personally affected Rebekah lost friends to Operation British and the early days of the war, as everyone did. The atrocities hardened her, and she enlisted without hesitation in the Federation’s forces when their recruitment drive began.
Rebekah was actually an early pilot of the Ball, and one of the fortunate ones who survived their time as a pilot of the spherical coffin. Her reflexes served her extremely well as the pilot of such a mobile, but poorly armored, unit. The experience carried over extremely well when she was issued an RGM-79 GM, giving her an edge that less experienced combatants lacked. As time marched on, and variations of the base GM were developed, Rebekah began to specialize into units that would maximize her maneuverability and firepower, usually at the detriment of armor. While many struggled with such suits, her time in the Ball proved invaluable. The culmination of this is her Striker EX, customized slightly to suit her needs, a unit that she is quite affectionate towards.
Other Info: Born UC 0060, O- blood type, maintains an extensive personal collection of movies and television to watch in her quarters.
Mobile Suit Info:
RGM-79-FP-S1 GM Striker EX
Weapons/Equipment:
-2x 60mm Vulcans
-Beam Saber
-AE/ZIM.HK Type-4 Heat knife
-YHI RAQ-SS-Wp Sashot Anchor: Arm-mounted launcher intended to embed its spike in a target (enemy unit, enemy ship, asteroid, etc) attached to a long metal retractable cable. Mounted on the right arm.
-YHI 1GL-84SB Grenade Launcher Anchor: Sidearm that launches explosive spikes that embed in the target before exploding.
-L9 Type Beam Rifle: Long range beam rifle with fold-out bipod. Mounted horizontally on the back in place of a second knife.
-BOWA BR-M-84H-H-4 Type Beam Rifle: Handheld, primary weapon.
-RGM*S-Sh-WF/S-00109 (Renpou GUNDAM Mass-produced Small Shield: Shield taken from ground-use GMs, stock save for beam coating added for Rebekah’s use. Mounted on left forearm.
-Thermal Visor: Thermal imaging system mounted on, and deployable from, the forehead.
The GM Striker EX, nicknamed Metal Spider by some due to its thermal visor, is a general use custom mobile suit created from the ground-use, close-combat-oriented GM Striker. The Striker EX features additional thrusters that allow for extremely high acceleration at the cost of armor and ballistic protection. The Striker EX, as used by Rebekah Fell, is a high-mobility assault unit oriented towards mid-to-long range engagement. Though capable in close combat, it is meant to avoid it; due to its light armor any strike in close combat is likely to be critical, and strikes cannot be easily avoided in close quarters. |
3,663 | 82 | 39 | 2,325 | 2,408 | Levi sighed she knew it wouldnt work but she tried anyway people of two factions wont work together that wasn't new news but it was something to keep in mind it was a miracle she got them to not kill each other to arrive on the colony. Though she said hiding her gouf she knew it would be impossible due to its color it was going to be impossible to hide its bright blue coloration. With that said though she was down a arm meaning fights was only going to be a uphill battle form here. Still she had a idea and goal in mind gather the Zeon pilots towards her location and perhaps they can hitch the local frigate of supplies headed for the thunderbolt sector. They if anyone would be able to jury rig a workable arm to her gouf before she headed back to earth. | Name: Roan Oakley
Age: 18
Gender: Female
Appearance: Roan is roughly 5'9", enough to be considered on the taller end of the spectrum, but her figure is very unremarkable with little curves, though in uniform her slight bottom-heaviness is more easily noted. Her is made out into a mane of gentle spikes, edged like waves, and colored a light blond that fades to a pale platinum at the ends. Her eyes are ringed a little, and some say it's from lack of sleep, but the green orbs are always alert and searching no matter what her expression may look like. Her shoulders droop often and she seems the exact opposite of what a lot of Federation pilots are supposed to be, but her skill should not be judged on appearances alone.
Origin: Roan is considered an oddity, because her birth certificate actually lists her as coming from the space colony Londonian whereas her place of residence, until her induction into the military, was a relatively small city far removed from most other Federation operations. As such, Roan and the populace have an abject view of the issues that have been plaguing the colonies and the Federation as a whole, having not relied on the Federation or too much more than the local government for much in years. The rumor is, and the one she doesn't try to wave away, is that her parents brought her down from the colonies so she wouldn't be referred to as a 'Spacenoid' or be treated as someone from the space colonies. This has not been entirely avoided however, as it shows up on her records whenever she transfers units.
Faction: Currently aligned with the Federation, as part of its EFSF mobile suit divisions.
Newtype: Possible yes. She has exhibited a much higher level of 3D spatial awareness than most candidates, allowing her to 'think' in 3D and plan accordingly.
Personality: The best old age word that could be used to describe her is 'hick.' Not in the way of the Old South in what used to be America, but instead to refer to someone that is insular or uninformed. Roan is known to not particularly care about the Federation's interests, nor the entirety of the conflict with Zeon during the One Year War, and is often mocked and derided for not buying into the whole patriot aspect of the military. In fact, she is oftentimes suggested to be a spy with her aloof attitude and apathetic expression, using her colony heritage against her whenever she fails to respond appropriately. Most of this however rolls off of her shoulders as she's not in it for the patriotism or glory, but more to find herself and understand what's going on outside the sphere of her hometown. This is not to say she's completely uneducated; in fact, so far as academics go, she's fairly top-notch.
Backstory: Having grown up in what could be considered a future-type backwoods city, a modern era center where most everything was up to date and yet kept away from the conflict overtaking the rest of the Earth Federation's known holdings, Roan could've been considered a bit sheltered compared to most of the Federation's enlisted personnel. She knew relatively little of the Federation's stance against Zeon and of Zeon's intentions, but it wasn't due to completely willful ignorance. Having seen mobile suit combat on the news feed and seen what took place between the two factions, she decided to broaden her horizon by moving to the place where raw, human emotion and the passionate wills of the people existed, perhaps even twisted to be unrecognizable, and to experience what had been going on herself. Her upbringing and file almost had her canned as a ground troop, an easy sacrifice for the cause, but her skill, intelligence, and fast reflexes quickly forced the Federation to preclude her from fodder. The academy, though rife with bullying, threats, and overall prejudice towards her birth status and her upbringing in the furthest place from the frontlines besides the bourgeois, was the proper kind of challenge for her to try and extend her skillset. Thus, she found during mobile suit simulated exercises and tactical analyses classes that her perception as a whole was much greater than the average person, and on a level above those who had a good grasp of awareness above them. Despite her spacey attitude, this earned her the grudging respect of some of her fellow pilot trainees, and lead to early success in her initial combat sorties. The horrors of war have reached her, but she doesn't lock them away. She prefers to ruminate on them and mourn quietly, lest the bloodbath and madness suck her in.
Other Info: Not a sweets person, but loves fish and fruit. Fish and chips is her favorite ration meal. Writes in her spare time. Doodles in the same notebook. Listens to a variety of music. Can be found in time between sorties on the observation decks, gazing into space.
RGM-79 GM, specifically a model used in the Thunderbolt Sector. Equipped with a Core Block system, and can be fashioned with a thruster pack equipped with two sub arms which are generally used to hold a pair of shields, a double-barreled beam weapon, and the standard issue beam spray gun.
Lately, it seems she's been trying to add different weapons to her arsenal and tactics. Chaff and minovsky particle dispersal have been one set of unusual equipment she's attempted to have applied, as well as small missile or rocket packs or an extra beam spray gun. |
3,664 | 82 | 40 | 1,525 | 524 | Having pushed her suit to the limit with powering the comms antenna, it took a while to make it to the hangar on Valretha's MS's RCS system. She watched the Gouf run off for some reason. she had no comms indicating what the pilot was doing, but moving the suit out of the common area to atleast have some location to retreive it from, god forbid something catastrophic happening to the current local; wouldn't be a bad idea at all.
Assuming that was the case, the zuda moved forwards and into the hangar. As it entered the space, the newtypes, even those new to the feelings, could feel the presence of the pilot filling the room. It wasn't intrusive, just signifying of rather broad reaching pilot sitting in the cockpit of the MS. It maneuvered into the middle of the hangar, disruspting most of the easy ways out of the hangar for the gathered MS's. The massive Thruster on its back was definitely still glowing red from the heat of its recent use and pushing. The chest sliding and the cockpit opening on the machine, the pilot got out of it helmetless.
Purple hair up in a ponytail, she stood looking out at the gathered members. The variety of Feddy suits on one side while her own, the gouf having just left and the remaining act Zaku in the hangar around them. "I'm the one that was on the comms through the minovsky particles." she explained, the girl looking barely sixteen. Her voice was filled with glimmers of hope, a desire to see some positivity come out of this. Her holster was empty, gun left behind in the cockpit. "My name is Valretha. I won't assume to know the reason you all managed to agree to a ceasefire with eachother despite yourselves and your positions in our respective groups." said the girl, swallowing hard. "We're all soldiers here in one manner or another. No matter how old we are, spacenoid or earthenoid, oldtype or newtype, Zeon or Federation, we're all still human." the female said now, a bit of confidence returning to the girl once she felt she broke the ice.
Heading back inside, she came back out with a pack full of rations. "I know some of you want to get back to your factions, bosses, superiors, but we're all sitting in this same hangar and not shooting each other anything more than glares and i consider that good as i'd like that to be the most of any of our worries between one another." Valretha said with a nervous chuckle now, hoping the bit of light comedy might ease things a bit. "I know words are hard to move people with and i'm not the greatest public speaker, but i think we have a chance here for something new and different. The earth has had a long and hard history. People fighting wars between towns, countries alliances and continents, but i think what we have a chance at is something special. I'm digging into really old earth history here, but back in the first great war, before this monstrosity of a space war evolved, people were fighting one another but even more fierce. Gas attacks were the norm, mutilations from chemicals, dieing of horrible medical care, all things that we take for granted, a lot of us don't have to deal with, they dealt with. even more fierce fighting that what we have now. And the second world war held even worse atrocities but for now i'm just focusing on the good thing in that first world war. Christmas day. It was a Christmas day and the troops managed to negotiate a ceasefire. Less dire circumstances than we have here, since our lives are currently are in danger even as we speak; considering the limited supplies we all have, they negotiated a truce over the fact it was Christmas and the soldiers found that they were human. They found out that they shared common likes and laughed with the people they had spent weeks shooting at and shelling even played sports with them that day." The girl explained and then took a deep breath and sighed, trying to figure our how to go about this and not get everyone killed or up in arms at one another, to try and bring some sort of stable peace between people. She'd be silent for maybe a minute before the girl spoke up once more, looking around the room.
"Dirty Feddies, Bastard Zeon, all these harsh terms to try and dehumanize the people we're fighting so it makes them easier to kill. Why don't we seek to try and use this time to understand one another even just a little instead of following some orders to shoot someone else because someone up above said "fire at them". We already all have military service in common, we're all brothers in arms, maybe not squadmates, but we're all veterans together." Said the female, moving down onto the ground, moving down the leg of the zudah and activating the soft magnets in her boots to allow her to move on the surface. "So i come in hopes of getting us to atleast have an idea that we're human. Sorting out political issues on who believes what is right and wrong is far beyond what we're capable of doing, so let's leave those behind. We are all people. we all have interests, so let's share them. I never said that talking to someone you've considered your enemy for a long time is an easy task, but it's worth a shot if it means we're not shooting at eachother. Leaving the past behind is a hard pill to swallow, so why don't we just all share our names and an interest or two?" Said Valretha looking around between those she saw around her and the hangar in general. "If keeping a gun on you makes you feel more comfortable, then i won't blame you, it's understandable after all the shit we've all been through. As to my suggestion, i'll even lead off." Said the girl, sitting against the foot of the Zudah now, putting the pack next to her and hooking it under the lip of the zuda's foot to keep it form wandering off. "My name is Valretha, I like listening rock and metal music as well as drawing if i had the time off duty." she said, now looking to the rest and hoping to get a conversation started. | Name:Valretha
Age: 16
Gender: Female
5ft 4in 170 lbs, seen wearing standard issue zeon pilot garb outside of a normal suit.
Origin: Spacenoid
Faction: Zeon
Newtype: Yes
Personality: Whiel having several ideals that let her align with Zeon, the girl is only truly loyal to herself and those that prove to show their worth and trust. Not against fighting, the girl herself is demanding professionally but friendly and somewhat laid back when with friends. Trust is something that is definitely earned as her childhood
Backstory: Born and raised in side three, her parents were skeptical believers in Deikum's philosophies. Upon his death, they paid their respects at his funeral parade. unfortunately, they were also next to Dozle's car when the bomb that killed his brother went off. Just before that, something had told her to itch her ankle. She ducked down and was consequently blown over from the explosion. her ears were ringing loudly. Getting back up. she found her parents were both on the ground, people around her were screaming. Her parents had been blunt to say the least, so she knew what death was despite being five years old. The next three years were a blur to her, but she wound up with support from Dozle, who had seen her that day after his rage had subsided and took pity on the girl.
She was fiercely independent and Dozle took on a more uncle like role to her. He'd support her and get her nannies and tutors to raise and school her, but never fully adopted the girl. When she was able to, she joined the military and quickly found herself piloting starfighters for a short while before winding up inside of an MS. Not without a a bit of preferential treatment from Dozle to try and keep the scarred girl off the front lines, he let her take up a spot in an experimental division known as NTZ. This has brought her around the sides, traveling to test different types of mobile suits before the division was finally called to war.
Other Info:
A strong and potent newtype, she only has stayed out of the hands of the development of newtype and newtype weaponry by Dozle. To this point, she is fearful of those in zeon taking her if anything were to happen to him.
Mobile Suit Info:
EMS-07 ZUDAH PEregrinus
Modified to have a 210 mm rifle for long distance shooting. Carries a heat hawk and the engine has been overhauled to have the saturn defect removed. has in atomosphere flight capabilities and is more agile die to several reduction in armor weight. |
3,665 | 82 | 41 | 1,826 | 1,162 | "What, you don't like Newtypes ogling you? You should get used to it, my surly Marianne. We're a damned impolite lot by nature, always trying to look into people's souls and communicate on new planes." Dallas tilted his head back against the cool metal of his GM Juggler's leg and smirked. "It's nothing personal. Or maybe it is. She does look a bit touched, doesn't she?"
While the other Zeek's soliloquy buzzed in his ears, the French Newtype let his mind wander carefully. Rebekah certainly seemed onboard, which was good; that GM of hers would be handy to have on a sixty-hour voyage, and the company would be godsend; once Dallas started talking to himself in the cockpit, he was likely never going to be able to slow it down. They'd pull him out of the Juggler while he was still gibbering on about her tits, the poor French bastard, and how would anyone be able to sympathize without beholding the celestial spheres themselves? Having Rebekah along would solve far more problems than she posed.
These Zeon pilots seemed a relatively spineless, indolent lot, too. Unless they radioed in for some of their crueler comrades to take advantage of two wayward GMs, they would probably let them go on their way. If anything, Dallas was steeling himself for pleading about more Newtype understanding and the importance of working together in the harshness of war. He'd welcome suffocation in such an instance. There was nothing more boring than a flower child or a peacenik. Centuries past, Dallas' forefathers had fought under Lafayette for freedom in two great powers. The men who bore his name before him had died bellowing, with Nazi blood on their lips, before they let Hitler storm into France. They would be howling up at him from hell if he shed tears for fascists because he felt them whimpering before the killing blow.
They may have just been teenagers, but the were Zeonic teenagers. Before today, no doubt they'd all been proud of it, too. Once they were returned safely to the brigades of the Zabi family, with their mobile suits returned to full working order, they'd probably be proud to fight the Feddies all over again. At least whores lied with a little bit of grace.
"You collect supplies. I'm sure you're more inventive with what constitutes rations than a spoiled Parisienne like me," the pretty boy teased, eyes still closed as his smile widened a notch. "I'll keep them talking until we're ready." | Name: Dallas Matthieu Renatus Grenier ("Dal," "Dally," "Matty Magnum," "The Sundance Kid," "Arc de Triunffffff")
Age: 19
Appearance:
Origin: Colonies, with Parisien upbringing
Faction: EFSF
Newtype: Yes.
Personality: Though not a dyed-in-the-wool Zeon lover by any means, Dallas isn't exactly a "truth, justice, and kissing babies on the head" kind of war hero - nor is he a brooding wreck who sobs about the lives he's taken whenever he leaves the cockpit . Rather, his personality flaws all lay in his poor attitude in general. Intentionally needling, irreverent, and quick to anger, the mercurial young man loves to pout and roll his eyes with aplomb, and his Cheshire grin is just as often intended to make someone else roll their eyes right back at him. He's not without his vanity either, often going out of his way to emphasize his own attractiveness or flirt with others. Noted pansexual.
Despite his love of being the bad boy, the French brat has a heart of gold somewhere underneath the jackassery. Bold and fearless to a fault, his incessant need to talk often belies his Newtype prowess, superb oratory skills and a creative mind. It's not rare for you to shut Dallas up only to find yourself thinking later on how there were some good ideas underneath the stream of jokes, come-ons, and curses.
Backstory: Born to a pair of ne'er-do-wells on Shangri-La in Side 1, the boy who would later take the alias Dallas Grenier never knew anything but chaos. His father was a drinking and ambivalent young man who hardly cared when his son was taken away by his girlfriend; Dallas was brought without conflict to his mother's native Paris at the age of 4 and served as her anchor throughout a life wrought with tension and vice. Always an adventurous, reckless, and open-hearted child, the young Parisien grew up at the heart of his mother's life of partying, prescriptions, and solicitation - and, under the impression that this was something resembling a normal life, fell into all the same traps as he grew older.
Somehow (through what he regarded throughout childhood as a guardian angel, and later learned was Newtype prowess) he was successful enough at his chosen vocations - fighting, prostitution, theft, scams, and sweet talking - to keep paying off fines for the majority of his teens, but eventually even the boy's luck ran out. He was caught and arrested less than a month before Operation British on a number of charges and, unable to pay off all his charges or talk his way out of his situation, was thrown into jail. However, a few months into the war between the Earth Federation and Side 3, he was approached in jail with what seemed like a fair proposition:
Either devote his worthless life to the Federation and be among the first testers of the Federation's jury-rigged poor man's psycommu system, or die like a rat on the off chance the next colony fell on Paris while he rotted away in jail.
With those two rosy options before him, the young con man took on the alias of Dallas Grenier for the purposes of enlisting in the Earth Federation, and found surprising success behind the cockpit of his custom GM Juggler.
Mobile Suit: RGM-79X-PT GM Juggler Custom "La Hire"
La Hire sports Dallas' own custom paint job, with electric blue armor over the alabaster frame and two black RB-79K Ball Type Ks on the shoulders. A beam-coated shield has been added for protection in an effort to protect the Juggler's reckless pilot further.
Armaments:
-60mm Vulcans
-HWF GMG·MG79-90mm Bullpup Machine Gun
-Beam-Treated FADEGEL RGM-M-Sh-003 Shield
-Newtype-Use Shoulder-Mounted Laser Remote-Controlled RB-79 Ball Type K w/Beam Rifles (x2) |
3,666 | 82 | 42 | 511 | 3,294 | BRIZO BADAMISH
That Feddie woman with the edgy mobile suit was definitely a Newtype. Or at least, a developing one if she still wasn't aware of the fact. Brizo, however, hadn't realised that the pilot of the weird-looking GM was one as well, but in hindsight, it definitely made sense. If he was a Newtype, then it explained why his machine seemed so experimental. Was the Federation looking into weaponising Newtypes as well? If they were, then it certainly was ballsy (hehehe) of them to put such a valuable subject on the front lines. Even if the Federation had the support of all the colonies that Zeon hadn't gassed or dropped on Australia, it didn't mean they could just keep grabbing more and more Spacenoids for the war effort. It wasn't as if the Sides particularly cared for the EFF anyway, but they also were far from fond of Zeon. The gassing thing probably did the trick, so siding (she needed to keep that one in mind) with the Federation was the best of a bad situation for them.
That was politics, she supposed. It wasn't really that much of an issue for her, as long as she could get back to the Flanagan Institute. The food there was nice, and helping the scientists out wasn't that bad a thing. She quite enjoyed the work they gave her. Her colleagues, on the rare opportunities she got to see them, seemed like okay people as well. They were also keeping her Brawrello safe for her while she was out here with the Zaku.
She wanted to get back into the Brawrello. As nice as the Zaku was, it just wasn't as cool as her mobile armor.
If she wanted to do that, however, she needed to first get off this station. The truce with the Feddies was a good way to get to work without needing to watch her back (although she probably still needed to, because that male Feddie Newtype looked like he was giving beady eyes at the talky Dozle grunt, and given his glances at the edgy GM pilot, those eyes probably weren't those of a chubby chaser). However, working with Federation soldiers definitely wasn't going to be a thing that would happen without lots of hard work and time, the latter of which they were sorely lacking if they wanted to escape before running out of human necessities (see: air). The speech didn't look like it was working either.
Ah well, at least it was worth a try. She wished that the girl would turn off her presence in some way, because it was starting to become a bit too excessive. Dozle's grunts probably weren't too hip and up-to-date with all the latest research.
Although, would the truce even hold once they left the station? Would it be safer to make the Feddies go splat now? She didn't really want to deal with the fuss of the truce breaking down immediately. It would just be a real pain to get through, and she didn't want to get involved in that. And if the Federation won the war, nobody could pull her in for war crimes because nobody would know she'd done the deed on this isolated, abandoned station.
She decided against it. It would be easier, but it would also be uncomfortable and not particularly something she felt she was going to like. Having a change of mind right after hashing things out just felt a bit wrong. If they ran into each other later during the war, they could kill each other then instead.
And in order to ensure a later, she needed to find some more supplies.
Shouldn't be too hard. | Name: Brizo Badamish
Age: 17
Gender: Female
Appearance:
Origin: Spacenoid
Faction: Flanagan Institute, Principality of Zeon
Newtype: Yes
Personality: First glance, total doormat. Like, if you were to swagger up to the door of somebody's house and look down, Brizo Badamish would be lying flat on the ground, completely uncaring even if you decided to wipe your shoes on her back. Tell her to jump, and she'd jump. Tell her to steal some files from your rival scientist's office, and she'll work as your resident gopher for less than minimum wage. She doesn't protest at all.
Actually, all of that's a lie.
Brizo Badamish is a pretty intelligent and helpful person, correct. That's less because she'll let anybody walk over her, but because she really doesn't like sticking her head out and getting bothered for little things. It isn't a massive fuss if someone wants her to grab them a coffee, but it gets real tiresome if she's lying aorund and a scientist berates her for not doing any work. Besides, she likes work, whether it be doing odd jobs or piloting a giant robot; it takes her mind off things and is generally pretty relaxing.
She's sorta airheaded in that regard, but despite that she's actually pretty good at what she does (even if it looks like she's half-arsing it).
On a personal level, Brizo actually has a sense of humour. She likes jokes, no matter how shitty they may be, and will casually share them if you ever feel like asking. Her hobbies actually include hitting the joke books for them, as well as watching cartoons (the other kids at the orphanage always hogged the single cathode-ray television they managed to salvage). She is a bit eccentric though when you interact with her (hence the airhead label), and at times may be innocently insulting (that might be a lie, nobody actually knows if she's fucking with us yet). However, she's a solid pal, but if she does find things to be overly tiring or fussy, expect complaints and grumbling.
She has a reasonably screwed-on set of morals too.
Backstory: A native of Side 3, Brizo Badamish spent her formative years under the rule of the Republic of Zeon (and later, Principality) without parents, instead growing up under the care of a local orphanage. During this time, she began to manifest signs of Newtype potential, and was soon recruited into the fledgling Flanagan Institute by the age of ten as a test subject. However, with the addition of more skilled and more powerful subjects, her duties soon became far more mundane, such as acting as a gopher for the scientists or background filler for her more special compatriots' flashback scenes.
And that may have been her eventual fate, as another forgettable Newtype, had she not been assigned to test the Institute's Newtype weapons.
Indeed, Brizo quickly displayed signs of impressive piloting skills (helped along by reading the gigantic instruction manuals beforehand), and the Institute realised that they could make better use of her by shoving her into whatever mobile suit or mobile armor of the week they had developed to see how things worked. It was a pretty good deal for her, especially with the increased food allocation and whatnot, and so she continued to familiarise herself with the machines (and growing slightly attached to her favourite, the Brawrello).
Flanagan's also lending her out to the Zeon space forces for more data these days, hence why you can see her hanging around.
Other: She's voiced by Minori Chihara.
---
MOBILE WEAPON
MS-11 ACT ZAKU
Unit type: mass production general purpose mobile suit
Armor materials: super hard steel alloy
Powerplant: Minovsky type ultracompact fusion reactor, output rated at 1440 kW
Propulsion: rocket thrusters: total output 64800 kg
Equipment and design features: sensors, range 3600 meters; magnetic coated joints
Armaments: beam rifle, power by rechargeable energy cap; machine gun; bullpup gun; heat hawk; heat saber x 2
MAN-00X-2 BRAWRELLO
Unit type: prototype Newtype use mobile armor
Equipment: psycommu system
Armaments: wired mega particle cannon x 2, wired heat claw x 2, diffuse mega particle cannon x 1, quadruple missile launcher x 2 |
3,667 | 82 | 43 | 1,288 | 1,329 | Quite possibly.
The GM pilot allowed to herself, though she wasn't about to agree out loud. The most the Frenchman got in agreement was a nod, then a moment later she pushed off from the Juggler's foot to right herself. This portion of the colony had air, but she wasn't sure about the rest. It had to have been abandoned for a reason. So she zipped her normal suit back up and fastened her helmet without a word, making her way towards the airlock. They had all come in at what used to be the spaceport, before the colony was abandoned. They were separated from the inside of the colony by an airlock, which she walked to as calmly as possible without taking her eyes off of the Zeon pilots. Or refastening the clasp on her sidearm's holster. She wasn't looking for a fight, but she wasn't going to get caught off guard by one.
The airlock, thankfully, opened without issue. She sealed the first door behind her and opened the second as soon as it was latched; the second one required a little more effort, indicating either something damaged or loss of power during the evacuation. The manual release was in working order, though, so she yanked hard and was rewarded with the sound of the chamber decompressing. The door opened easily after that, she she slipped deeper into the colony. It had definitely been abandoned in a hurry, though she was hard-pressed to say why; there was breathable air, a quick check confirmed, but once she took off her helmet she knew it was a finite supply. It tasted stale, and the area was dead silent. Habitat controls were clearly offline. Maybe that was why they evacuated, or maybe they had stopped without anyone to maintain them. Hard to know.
It did mean, though, that the colony hadn't been breached. Rebekah would have been breathing vacuum if it was. Since it was present, though, it was important to breathe that and not the tank in her suit. One was a lot less in supply than the other. If there was time, and equipment, she would have to see if she could find spare tanks. Though those were probably in the spaceport...
She keyed the mic in her headset.
"Frenchman, while you are keeping them occupied you should look around for spare O2 tanks. Mobile suit or normal suit sized, either one. We may well need both."
She kept an ear open for a response, though she doubted she would get one of importance. Better to be safe, though. Most of her attention was focused on her first objective; the emergency supplies. Colonies all kept them near the evacuation points, and usually more than they needed. If she was lucky there might be a few spares left.
The supply point had clearly been ransacked, there was abandoned detritus everywhere, things people dropped but didn't have time to pick up. Empty kits here and there, as though people had tried to put their contents in something else, but she was lucky. Three spare packs. Water, rations, first aid supplies, and more importantly, a basic oxygen mask. Wouldn't do anyone much good if the lifepod was breached, but it could be a lifesaver if it ran low on air.
Or if a mobile suit did, for example.
She slipped the straps from all three over her shoulder, musing on whether or not she should give the third to the Zeonic soldiers if she could find other supplies. Maybe if the Frenchman found some air tanks of his own, and if she found more food, though it wouldn't help them much. One pack wasn't going to help all three of them.
Her next stop was the stands that used to cater to travelers. The food wasn't good, but the important thing was it was almost all non-perishable. Chips, jerky, candy, that sort of thing. Easy to carry packages, no risk of it going bad, and lots of calories. Not healthy, but the important thing was calories. They could eat healthy when it wasn't life or death. Rummaging through the cashier's station yielded a few plastic bags that she immediately began shoveling bottles of water, and after that packaged snacks, into. The bag of waters wasn't light, but that meant that it held a decent supply. Enough to last til Side 6. After a little thought she prioritized jerky first, rationalizing that it held the most value in their current situation. Chips were least important, though she did take some, because the bags were mostly air. This was easily circumvented by pricking a hole to let the air out, then packing the bags. Not factory fresh anymore, but not taking up so much space.
Then was candy. Calorie density was most important, so she mostly grabbed things with the highest sugar content. Practically pure sugar. She conceded to her desires by packing a small number of chocolate bars, though she also tucked some into her own pockets. Had to have something to celebrate with if she survived.
The Lieutenant surveyed her haul for a few moments and concluded that it was probably sufficient to get them back. Albeit perhaps not wishing to eat such things ever again. Lifting her bags with a little effort (finding room in her hands was difficult, even after setting her helmet on her head) she started making her way back.
"I'm going to need you to get the door." | Name: Rebekah Cross
Age: 19
Gender: Female
Appearance: Standing 5’10”, Rebekah Fell tends to be rather striking for a few reasons. The contrast of her pitch black hair and skin as pale as a Spacenoid that has never set foot on Earth is the first, accented by the middle ground of her gray Federation uniform. Said uniform is always immaculate and pressed, the picture of attention to detail. Her cap is always worn, as well, as it serves to conceal the fact that her hair is most definitely not regulation length. It is always tied up and concealed under her cap in public, but falls down to her waist when let loose. It is her sole deviation from protocol, and one she is oddly protective of.
She cuts a striking, unusually curvy figure though her build is downplayed by the rigid contours of the standard Federation uniform. Her posture and movements, like her demeanor, are rigid and militaristic as though she is perpetually at attention. Her featured could be considered pretty, but the effect is significantly diminished by the inscrutably cold neutrality that always adorns her features. Her violet eyes are always alert, roaming her surroundings with great intensity even when she seems (as close as she gets to) relaxed.
Origin: Earthnoid
Faction: EFSF
Newtype: Quite possibly. As an Earthnoid, Rebekah has not spent the time in space necessary to awaken any latent Newtype potential. She has however demonstrated an exceptional understanding of her position in space, even in a three-dimensional environment like space, and unusually swift reaction times. Neither necessarily guarantees Newtype potential, as both could merely be natural skill, but time in space may awaken said latent potential.
Personality: Cold. Aloof. Dispassionate. These, and other synonyms, would be the impression someone meeting Rebekah for the first time would probably give. The GM pilot is not an easy woman to get to know. Her tendency to keep everyone at arm’s length is mostly surface-deep, and anyone who spends time around her is bound to catch glimpses past it. She is highly loyal and protective to her comrades, whether she shows any sign of it or not. No one gets left behind if she can help it, and every pilot that fails to come back from a battle is a personal failing to her.
Anyone who manages to befriend her has earned a friend for life. Friendship is not something she takes lightly, and she will stop at nothing to help or protect a friend. Nothing is of higher importance. Rebekah is a warm, quirky girl with an amusing fondness for desserts if you manage to get past the surface. What she feels passionate about, be it a hobby or an ideal, she is very passionate about.
Backstory: There is little to say about Rebekah Fell’s early life. She was born to a university professor and an accountant and raised in a modest home. Her performance in school was above average, though not extremely, and she maintained a close circle of friends throughout her childhood. Her aspirations, as she aged, seemed geared mostly towards a good college education and a comfortable, albeit quiet, life. She was an avid athlete, mostly of the track and martial arts variety, but her athletics were mostly just hobbies.
The growing tensions between Earth and Side 3, and ultimately the outbreak of the One Year War, changed all of that. Though not personally affected Rebekah lost friends to Operation British and the early days of the war, as everyone did. The atrocities hardened her, and she enlisted without hesitation in the Federation’s forces when their recruitment drive began.
Rebekah was actually an early pilot of the Ball, and one of the fortunate ones who survived their time as a pilot of the spherical coffin. Her reflexes served her extremely well as the pilot of such a mobile, but poorly armored, unit. The experience carried over extremely well when she was issued an RGM-79 GM, giving her an edge that less experienced combatants lacked. As time marched on, and variations of the base GM were developed, Rebekah began to specialize into units that would maximize her maneuverability and firepower, usually at the detriment of armor. While many struggled with such suits, her time in the Ball proved invaluable. The culmination of this is her Striker EX, customized slightly to suit her needs, a unit that she is quite affectionate towards.
Other Info: Born UC 0060, O- blood type, maintains an extensive personal collection of movies and television to watch in her quarters.
Mobile Suit Info:
RGM-79-FP-S1 GM Striker EX
Weapons/Equipment:
-2x 60mm Vulcans
-Beam Saber
-AE/ZIM.HK Type-4 Heat knife
-YHI RAQ-SS-Wp Sashot Anchor: Arm-mounted launcher intended to embed its spike in a target (enemy unit, enemy ship, asteroid, etc) attached to a long metal retractable cable. Mounted on the right arm.
-YHI 1GL-84SB Grenade Launcher Anchor: Sidearm that launches explosive spikes that embed in the target before exploding.
-L9 Type Beam Rifle: Long range beam rifle with fold-out bipod. Mounted horizontally on the back in place of a second knife.
-BOWA BR-M-84H-H-4 Type Beam Rifle: Handheld, primary weapon.
-RGM*S-Sh-WF/S-00109 (Renpou GUNDAM Mass-produced Small Shield: Shield taken from ground-use GMs, stock save for beam coating added for Rebekah’s use. Mounted on left forearm.
-Thermal Visor: Thermal imaging system mounted on, and deployable from, the forehead.
The GM Striker EX, nicknamed Metal Spider by some due to its thermal visor, is a general use custom mobile suit created from the ground-use, close-combat-oriented GM Striker. The Striker EX features additional thrusters that allow for extremely high acceleration at the cost of armor and ballistic protection. The Striker EX, as used by Rebekah Fell, is a high-mobility assault unit oriented towards mid-to-long range engagement. Though capable in close combat, it is meant to avoid it; due to its light armor any strike in close combat is likely to be critical, and strikes cannot be easily avoided in close quarters. |
3,668 | 83 | 0 | 2,745 | 21 | The doors of the VGHS Shuttle bus opened revealing Jimmy standing on the top step wearing black jeans, black boots, sunglasses, a black shirt with the word ubber in blue lettering across it, and a black leather jacket slung over his shoulder. Jimmy slowly waltzed down the stairs and looked up towards the school.
"So VGHS we finall-"
Before he could finish his sentence the rest of the students on the bus came stampeding out. The first student shoved past Jimmy and within a few milla seconds Jimmy was consumed by a crowd of rambunctious students. He was being knock around like a pinball at the heart of the group.
"Hey!?...sto-... You guys are ruining my entrance!" Jimmy shouted as he spun around in a complete circle as the group finally passed.
In a huff Jimmy through on his jacket and straightened his clothe out. He then went back to the bus, opened up the luggage compartment and snatched his backpack out. Jimmy dug into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. After unfolding the paper he spoke under his breath.
"Frag dorm room 302." He smiled slightly as the reality of attend VGHS hit him.
He walk through the the campus and saw some of the more senior students greeting old friends and watch as some of the first year students introduced themselves to one another. With all of the excitement Jimmy almost forgot he was the only one out of his clan to make it into VGHS. He usually be sad to say goodbye to all his friends but, in this case a new beginning was a good thing. When he made it to his assigned dorm he placed his hand on the door handle and took a deep breath before pushing the door open and walking in. He went to check in with his RA and got his dorm room key. He weaved his way through the all of the excited students in the halls then up the stairs until he came to his room. After opening the door he saw box after box of his things because he had them sent to his room before he arrived and began to unpack. | Name: Jimmy " Spray n pray" Walkens
Age: 16
Appearance:
Personality: Competitive, hardworking, and a little bit cocky. He liked to be the center of attention and tries to act cool but, is extremely goofy so at times it's hard for people to take him seriously.
First gaming genre: FPS
Second gaming genre: RTS |
3,669 | 83 | 1 | 1,894 | 3,078 | With the view of VGHS getting better with every second, Simon sighed in joy as he looked out of the window seat. He was the only one from his FPS clan and Fighting group that had been accepted into the high school, and despite what he had said about himself, his friends praised him for being the only one to get in, and all bid him farewell. When the shuttle finally came to a stop, most of the people on the bus rushed to get out, while Simon simply waited for the people to leave before getting his bag and suitcase and heading off of the bus.
As he got off of the bus, Simon reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a small paper that had the number of his dorm room. "Frag Dorm Room 302." He muttered as he folded the paper back up and placed it back into his pocket, grabbing his suitcase with his now free hand and heading off.
Many of the other first year students had introduced themselves to each other, and while Simon exchanged a few words with some of them, he wasn't going to go out of his way to make everyone know him. Reaching the RA, Simon got the key to his dorm and was told that his dorm-mate had already checked in. The young man nodded to the RA and walked down the hall to find the room that he would be living in. The door was already open, so his key wasn't needed at this time. "Hello?" Simon spoke up as he walked into the room slowly, finding a place to set all of his things down for now. | Name: Simon Elwood
Age: 16
Appearance: Simon (Brown hair, brown eyes.)
Personality: When it comes to gaming, Simon prefers to wait people out. He enjoys being his own person, even if that means straying from what people believe to be "Normal" or in some cases "Sane". By no means is he the quiet guy, but at the same time, he doesn't constantly talk either. He'll voice out his opinion if he feels that it's needed, or if he feels like it should simply be out there.
Biography: Because attending school at VGHS is a pivotal time in a gamers career writing a bio is completely optional.
First gaming genre: FPS
Second gaming genre: Fighting
Gaming team or teams: (won't have these until after try outs)Also statr JV or Varsity |
3,670 | 83 | 2 | 1,453 | 40 | And Claire finishes off the final lap at full speed! Claire said to herself as she pedaled as hard as she could getting closer and closer to to VGHS. Claire was the oddity of her family. She had a need for speed that was going to be quenched...for a family that preferred to take things slow. Her Mom and Dad had both went to VGHS years ago, her Mom for RTS and her Dad for FPS. Her older brother had followed suit with FPS and had graduated the year before. Her family refused to let her go to school just wanting to do racing, and wouldn't even let her do it as her main thing. No, they wanted her to do FPS (since she had no chance of keeping still for RTS), which she did have a knack for but after this first year, she would probably switch to racing. Speaking of which.
"And Claire goes over the finish line!" She said to herself as she started to break, turning so she kind of slid vertically to a stop. Now would be the part where she took off her awesome motorcycle helmet...if she had one. But unfortunately, she didn't have one. Couldn't put one on with her glasses (the only thing she disliked about her glasses). But that was A-okay. She stylishly (as one could with a normal bike helmet) took off her regular helmet and stood at the school entrance. "Time to start the best four years of my life." She said to herself as she started in. | Name: Claire Byrd
Age:16
Appearance: Black hair that reaches to about her mid back that she usually keeps in a loose pony tail to keep out of the way of her gear. Green eyes with and wears rather wide rim circle glasses that totally make her look like a nerd but she loves them. Is about 5'5" and loves wearing hoodies and comfortable jeans.
Personality: Impatient, fast talking fast thinking. She likes for everything to be as fast as she is but she does her best to take orders and help her teammates. Will do just about anything for her friends but holds grudges on her enemies for the longest of times.
First gaming Genre: FPS
Second gaming Genre: Racing.
(let me know if this needs work) |
3,671 | 83 | 3 | 945 | 123 | Commander, our troops have breached the enemy's defences and are moving in for the kill, a disembodied female's voice said over the intercom.
"Excellent, victory is ours for the taking." Eddy muttered. He looked down at the holographic tabletop in front of him and saw images of his units surrounding the enemy base. Large red structure on the opposite side was quickly destroyed and the word "Victory" appeared hovering in the middle of the table in bold, large letters. "And there we have it. Another win under my belt. Ah, isn't life grand?" He, again said to no one in particular. He did an about-face, which made the medals on his chest cling and clang in response, pulled down the bill of his officer's cap, and walked through the metallic door that lead out of the base.
When he crossed the threshold and opened his eyes, he was met with the back of a seat. He let out a small yawn and stretched his limbs in all directions. After looking out the window, he saw that VGHS was just pulling up. Man, if only that dream was real. He thought to himself. He looked at the information sheet that was given to him by a school representative a few weeks earlier just to pass the final seconds by. His primary genre was FPS, while his secondary was RTS. Eddy would rather have had the two switched, but his father, who was a military officer, actually had an education at VGHS. Eddy's father took the same courses Eddy was about to take, which actually gave him some experience in both leadership and teamwork. Eddy wanted to follow his father's footsteps, and figured this was the best way to do just that.
The bus finally came to a halt, and students, new and old, piled out of the doorway and onto the campus. Eddy stepped off and let the feeling of attending such a prestigious school sink in. "Well, here's to a good year." He said out-loud. Eddy grabbed his bags from the undercarriage, and strode off to his dorm room, "Frag dorm room 310." When he reached his destination, it was apparent no one else had claimed the other bed just yet. Eddy simply shrugged, Guess the other guy is still milling about downstairs. He placed his belongings on the bed to the left and began unpacking. | Name: Eddy Riggs
Age: 16
Personality: Eddy's your light-hearted go-lucky kinda guy. The only things he takes seriously are his gaming and friends. Everything else, he loves poking fun and making jokes at. Well. . .he'll poke and prod his friends just to get a reaction out of them, but nothing too serious.
First gaming genre: FPS
Second gaming genre: RTS |
3,672 | 83 | 4 | 1,894 | 3,078 | Without any word from his roommate, Simon simply kept quiet and organized his things, taking various objects out of his backpack and placing them all around the room in all different spots. He silently claimed one of the desks as his own, since the other desk was clear of his belongings. He then pulled out the components of his own computer from his bag, since he didn't want to use the one that the School had as a default. There wasn't anything wrong with the standard ones at all, but it was just a matter of preference for him. Once he got his monitor and tower set up, Simon dug through another bag to get his cabinet controller, as well as his fighting gloves. | Name: Simon Elwood
Age: 16
Appearance: Simon (Brown hair, brown eyes.)
Personality: When it comes to gaming, Simon prefers to wait people out. He enjoys being his own person, even if that means straying from what people believe to be "Normal" or in some cases "Sane". By no means is he the quiet guy, but at the same time, he doesn't constantly talk either. He'll voice out his opinion if he feels that it's needed, or if he feels like it should simply be out there.
Biography: Because attending school at VGHS is a pivotal time in a gamers career writing a bio is completely optional.
First gaming genre: FPS
Second gaming genre: Fighting
Gaming team or teams: (won't have these until after try outs)Also statr JV or Varsity |
3,673 | 84 | 0 | 686 | 2,548 | As Zeke was staring to a chessboard there was a knock on the door of his personal room.
"Yes" was all the reply he gave and all he needed to give, the girls he had staying under his roof knew he always let them enter regardless of time or situation, this was just courtesy, meaning this was either Runa or Moena, not that he needed to guess, he already had felt the aura of Moena stopping at his door.
"The girls are all done packing master" she said as she entered the room.
"Good, then The day after tomorrow we will go to the training site" He replied without taking his eyes of the board.
"Our First rating game, I am excited" Moena said as she leaned over the board, her breasts swaying a little in corner of Zeke's eyes, she was in her Devil shape.
"have you checked on Ophelia yet, this will be her training experience away from our little home" Zeke asked, wanting to make sure their newest member was properly prepared for what was to come.
"I asked if she was packed but I guess I should check, see if she is not forgetting anything"
Zeke nodded and soon after Moena walked out of the room.
He wondered how the training week will be, it was not just that they had 1 new member, there was an older member that was unable to join last time they went, Yuriha was unavailable last time so this would be her first time as well, but at least she knew what to prepare as she has been a member for a while, Ophelia was a member for less then a week by now...
After a minute Zeke suddenly stood up and looked out the window of his room, it was night, but that was not the reason he looked out the window, now that reason was that an unknown aura had just flew over their little home.
not many supernatural creatures would be able to notice them though, it was an old school building, much like the gremory group had in japan, however this was holland* and this is a school that has been abandoned and bought by Zeke with some help of the Gremory's to act as their home, it was a full building that ow acted as their home and on walking distance to a real school a few blocks further where the girls would go to school tomorrow.
and best was, with some help of the maou's he had some seals around the building so nearly no one realized the building, sure they knew it was there if they were really looking around, otherwise they would just look over it
but still, something was in the area and he wanted to know what.
without letting the girls know Zeke exited the building and walked towards the angle the person was flying, it was a walk for quite a few minutes before he found it.
the figure was standing in front of zeke, a fallen angle trying to look cool on top of a street light
"Ive been searching for you, your hard to find you know" the fallen said.
"just means I am doing my job right" Zeke replied, though his attention was getting drawn, an other aura had appeared walking in their direction, an enemy? maybe, it could try to walk and attack from the shadows, but what if its a civilian taking some shortcut or something...
"Your Job is to hide, well with that sensing power of yours thats easy cash" The fallen said, he seemed confused at Zeke's remark.
"No, its to protect those who live under my wing" did the fallen just said he knew of his aura sense, then they know an ambush wont work, so this was a civilian, damn
"hey, whats the matter, sensing something, maybe a human in the area, I got some good senses you know, I think he's somewhere... there" the man said as he threw an spear towards the civilian in the area.
The figure did stop in his or her tracks, Zeke hoped that the civilian was stuck or scared and that the fallen had missed hurting him/ her
well he still had an aura so he was not killed in one shot at least, if he could get to it in time he could try and heal the person.
"you know I can sense, yet you fail to grasp the mistake you just made" Zeke said, anger sounded in his voice.
"what mistake, you have no idea how great it is to kill, its why I fell you know, cause there is nothing better then killing" the fallen responded in a delirious way.
Zeke did not even granted the guy a reply, instead he released a bolt of thunder from his hand, knocking the angle from the light.
"Man that hurts you know" the fallen said as he tried to get up, however from nowhere an spear of light stabbed him though his head.
where the spear came from, even Zeke had no idea.
"seems he gave you some problems, I Apologize for that" A new voice called from the sky, a voice Zeke recognized.
"Azazel"
"yeah, while I'll take my leave now, got a nice new place in japan I plan to live, and dont worry about him, he was trying to start a new war, we have been looking for him for a while, I take it that with his death by my hands were all still at peace right, anyway maybe you should see to that human he wounded, seems he is pretty badly wounded, you know, if you have any of those pieces left you should use it, he has a nice little gear on him, great for a knight"
From that point on Zeke knew Azazel has left, damn that guy, he always knew how to avoid his aura sense, well its to be expected from the grigori leader to be a master of stealth...
Zeke started to run to the civilian, he did not wanted to do what that fallen angel had told him, but he knew the person was in bad shape, his aura had started to lessen bit by bit
the man was still conscious when Zeke found him, the spear had missed anything vital but at this rate he was going to bleed to death.
he thought about what he was going to do, he could not trust azazel, but on the other hand the fallen had no reason to trick him
still he had 3 options, let the kid die, no he could never do that, the kid was, what 16?
he could either let Runa treat the wound, it would likely leave a scar but he'll live, however the question is would he make it until he reached Runa, the kids chances would be better if he would take the risk and trusts Azazel, change him right here and now, use that to restore the wound.
"Kid, unless you wish to die I have two options for you, either we take the risk to get to healed with a scar, but we might not make it on time, or you become one of my peers, it will be an instant heal but you will become a devil, its your choice as long as your conscious" As Zeke said devil he shaped his aura so the boy could see, calling his wings and due to popular believe he decided to shape horns as he knew his wings were not that convincing as the bat ones his fellow devils had
(*its a fictional holland as not everyone here will be even in the slightness familiar with the country) | Sexy as f**k |
3,674 | 84 | 1 | 1,278 | 8,109 | Yuriha had just finished packing her belongings, but the anxiety of her first trainings trip with her new family was so much that she felt the urge to double check things lies than five minutes after she was done.
"I guess everything is here," she said to herself after repacking everything. The contents of her backpack where mostly books about all kinds of things that she had loaned from her school's library as well as some Zeke gave her on her last birthday a few weeks ago. She knew that if Moena, who she fondly calls Moe-nee, saw what she was packing she would get scolded but she simply couldn't part with her books, after all, how can someone give up on something so fun as reading?
"No, wait I forgot to buy more candies. I guess I'd I hurry to the nearest market I can still make before Moe-nee comes to check on me again." As soon as Yuriha said that she dashed out of her room and hid her tails and ears with her magic, she was still wearing her school uniform which was about the only clothing that she really liked, especially because Zeke had entry through the trouble of finding a school whose uniform looked almost like a Japanese one, but when Moe-nee asked him if it was because of some weird fetish he always found a way to deceive her.
When Yuriha excited through the front door, she found Hecate, or as she likes to think He-chan, training asks she always did, even when it wasn't necessary. Yriha always felt a connection with Hecate, she could understand the other girl's pain, because she too had grew up without a family and was forced to fend fo her own for sometime, but that was all that Yuriha knew about Hecate because she was even less of a talker than Yuriha is. She thought about calling the other girl out, decided not to bother her with small talk, specially since she didn't knew what to talk about, so she quickly dashed out of the main gate after stuttering a hurried "Good afternoon".
While she ruin towards the market, Yuriha couldn't help but think that she was the dumbest person in the world, for not being able to talk with someone that she considered more family than those of her own blood. | Name: Yuriha
Age: It's a secret, teehee!
Gender: Female
Height: Cute, don't you think?
Weight: Don't ask that, baka!
Race: Half human/youkai (nine tailed fox) hybrid
Rank: Reincarnated low class devil
Appearance:
Personality: To be revealed in character.
Evil piece: Paw, worthy of 4.
Categorized: None yet
Normal Powers: All normal devil powers, plus kitsune powers which include the ability to generate and control extremely hot flames known as 'Fox Fire', enhanced physical abilities and senses, and shape shifting, though her forms are limited to a young and an adult version of herself, as well as a fox form which she rarely uses.
Magical Energy and Powers: Yuriha has a vast amount of magic power, given that she's a half-breed of the strongest youkai race, as well as a holder of a draconian Sacred Gear. Given her natural affinity to fire, Yuriha already mastered many spells of this element as well as some other times of general use magic.
Sacred Gear:
Location: Arm | Type: Wearable (Bracelet)
-Lore: The Void Gear is the manifestation of the soul of an unnamed dragon that was said to have achieved power equivalent to that of a Dragon King a long time ago. He was sealed in the gear, just like most of its kin, when the dragons destructive rampages threatened the very existence of the world. From that time on the Void Gear has appeared on many places and been held by many hands, almost always causing disaster and leaving a trail of destruction in its wake when its users invariably went berserk and destroyed everything on sight, until they were either killed by someone, or consumed by the gear's very own power.
-Powers: The user of the Void Gear can use it to absorb magic effects in a limited range, while this feature in use the gem at the bracelet's center turns pitch black and the user can't move. Once enough energy has been absorbed, some of the runes around the gem will begin to shine, signaling that the bracelet has 'charge' that can be spent to empower the user's next spell or attack. Only four charges can be held at a time, and they can only be spent all at one time, resetting the counter after each release.
-Revelations: None yet
-Balance breaker: None yet
-Sub Species: None yet
Bio: To be revealed in character.
Equipment: N/A.
Others: N/A. |
3,675 | 84 | 2 | 617 | 585 | Marcus was walking home alone from school When he decide to take a shortcut through the backwoods. As he walked along his usual path home When some kind of flash of light caught his eye from the side. "Hmm!" He said to himself as he quick turn in it direction, as he wonder what the flash was he notice some kind of light peeking through the forest. He soon found himself wondering of there was someone else with he forest with him. He found himself walking in the light direction before noticing whatever the source of his curiosity was was quickly toward him. The next thing he knew he was feeling a wave of pain coursing though his chest, So much in fact that he didn't even noticed that he sent flying of his feet by whatever hit him.
OCC: keep in mind i'm not a doctor
He then found himself on the ground with a glowing spear piecing through the left most side of his midriff. The boy rolling over to his side to lessen the pain as he suffered through agony that keep him from even scream out. What the...what the fuck! He said to himself as his hand begin to explained the spear that was inside his body. Am...am i going to die? He asked himself. His mind was trying to process what as going on. As time pasted on he soon found it getting harder and harder to breath while at the same time he hope that someone would just to happen to be walking by to notice him. Someone please come by i can't die like this I'm still a virgin. He beg inside his head.It was much longer until who he hope could save him.
"Kid, unless you wish to die I have two options for you, either we take the risk to get to healed with a scar, but we might not make it on time, or you become one of my peers, it will be an instant heal but you will become a devil, its your choice as long as your conscious."
The man turn transformed front of him, taking the form of some kind of demonic looking entity, by the time Marcus was on ready losing coincidences. "Please...i don't want to die...not like this" He told him before he begin to cough up some blood. it wasn't fair for him to die so painfully,so and young,as soon as his life was starting to get better. He then reach his hand out to him. "Please...if you can...save me...then please...heal me now." Marcus asked him weakly before his hand touched his ankle,he then pasting out two second later. | Name: Marcus Wilson
Age: 16
Gender: Male
race: Devil(Former human)
Rank: Lower Class Devil
Appearance note: Has the height of a 13-14 year old boy.
personality: Marcus is known to be hot-blooded and short tempered, he is known to beat up people who abuse others with the usual exception of those with higher social authority then him. It is cause of this that he is label has a juvenile delinquent by his most of his peers. However those who could actually hang out with him would know that he actually a kind person who can't stand to see other people get bullied.
Evil piece: Knight
Categorized: none yet
normal powers: all basic devil powers you can find at Zeke
magical energy and powers: Unknown
Secret Gear: The Phantom Blade: a Elven long sword with a green tranparent blade the can be summon from inside the user body(and soul). This blade will phase through thing with the exception of the last thing that user Verbally commends it to cut.
-Balance breaker: None right now
-sub species: Matter Cutter: The blade turn into a katana take on a sharper appearance and gains abnormally strong cutting abilities, Allowing it to cut through solid object with more ease then he could normal do with a different sword
equipment:None
bio/ history: Marcus is a teenager of British/Japaneses Deceit, been and raise in a positive environment in japan until six year old, one late night his father was walking home from work when he was killed by a spray bullet during a gunfight between two rival gang members. After which his mother and him was forced to live on the bad part of town; on top of which he was constantly bullied cause of his hair color and inheritance. This had jump start his cycle of violence as he was forced to teach himself how to fight in order to get the other students to back off.
At the age of 10 his mother was finally able to take him out of that neighborhood and transfer him to another school. However he still chose to get in unnecessary fights with the other students: usually with the ones are those who make fun of his looks and as time when by he start focusing on bullies who target other. This got him sent to the principal's office multiple time and landed him in juvenile court at least twice. Though he was acquitted the first time, he was put place in juvenile detention for putting another student in the hospital. Since then Marcus had only been in a fights when it couldn't be avoid. When he started high school his mother had enroll him in-Insert the name of the academy here- thinking that it would help keep him out of trouble, during his freshman year he only got in trouble once for his violences.
During the roleplay Marcus will take a shortcut to his house where he would either be kill directed by Zeke enemies or will be killed in the crossfire between one of Zeke's group and his enemies.
others: Marcus favorite hobby is cooking. |
3,676 | 84 | 3 | 686 | 2,548 | ==Hecate==
Having finished packing the bare essentials Hecate decided to do a run of her personal training, she grabbed her sword, the only thing she would be carrying outside of her bag as she never left home without it, which has given her the status of a delinquent at the school by nearly all teachers aside 2.
then again it made it easier to distance herself from most fellow students so she did not complain one bit.
Today she decided to train her basic sword positions and moves and after 15 minutes suddenly someone went past her stuttering "Good afternoon"
Hearing that Hecate stabbed her sword in the ground "f*ck" she said softly to herself, she had failed to notice Yuriha exiting the door, it was perhaps her biggest issue, when ever she was busy on something she failed to notice the stuff around her..
She looked as Yuriha ran off, wondering where she was going to.
Looking to the sky, it was getting dark so Hecate figured its better to follow the fox girl, as she calls her, making sure she's safe.
She was able to catch up on her easily but stayed behind her so she could easily watch her, hoping fox girl wont notice her.
--------------------
==Zeke==
"so you passed out, I wonder if you really knew what you were saying, but seeing how it is, you wont make it till we get to Runa, fine you wish to live as you shall, though not as a human anymore, for that I am sorry if you dont like it, buts its better then death I guess.
From his pocket Zeke took out his pieces, a pawn, a rook and a knight piece, judging from the pieces I need more then 1 pawn, seems Azazel was right when he said you possess a sacred gear, tss, fine I'll take the risk and listen to the old fool"
Putting his Pawn and Rook back in his pocket he arched electricity from his palm and carved a mark on the ground around the kid, shaping his personal circle.
Using his King piece traits the Knight piece started to hover in the air above the boy.
"Death shall have to wait for your soul as from this point on you will become part of my family, restore from your wounds and return to live as a devil, my name is Zeke Valefor, and as of today I am your master"
Having said his chant the piece flew down and entered the kid's body as the spear disappeared and the wound closed while the kids body was changed and reborn as a devil.
Zeke waited for the kid to wake up and once he did he spoke.
"Welcome back, from today on you have a new chance at live but to do so ive made you into a devil, my name is Zeke Volray and from on today you are a part of my family, you are free to live as you wish however, you can go home to your human parents but if you wish you can follow me to meet your seniors, you can even live with us if you so wish, its your live" | Sexy as f**k |
3,677 | 84 | 4 | 617 | 585 | Marcus's eyes jump open,his head raised up a bit as he wakes. He begin looking around to confirm his location, he then remember that he was recently wound and yet the pain was gone. As Zeke begin speak Marcus sit up on the ground and begin looking down at his shirt, his hand then begin to search for the spot he was wounded in before he decide pulled up his shirt to find that there was no wound to be found, it almost it was like it never existed in first place. Marcus didn't know much about what a devil was, other then the fact that he was some sort of demon archetype, it made him feel a bit nervous about that, through his new boss seem a bit liberal so being a demon may not be a bad as it sounds."
Marcus then looked down as he spoke back to him. "I wish...to follow you" He told him before helping himself up, he seem to be shaky but he wanted to know more about his new condition. "Thank you for saving me, you have my gratitude." He told him while looking away to hide his embarrassment. He never thought he would find himself begging for his life like that. | Name: Marcus Wilson
Age: 16
Gender: Male
race: Devil(Former human)
Rank: Lower Class Devil
Appearance note: Has the height of a 13-14 year old boy.
personality: Marcus is known to be hot-blooded and short tempered, he is known to beat up people who abuse others with the usual exception of those with higher social authority then him. It is cause of this that he is label has a juvenile delinquent by his most of his peers. However those who could actually hang out with him would know that he actually a kind person who can't stand to see other people get bullied.
Evil piece: Knight
Categorized: none yet
normal powers: all basic devil powers you can find at Zeke
magical energy and powers: Unknown
Secret Gear: The Phantom Blade: a Elven long sword with a green tranparent blade the can be summon from inside the user body(and soul). This blade will phase through thing with the exception of the last thing that user Verbally commends it to cut.
-Balance breaker: None right now
-sub species: Matter Cutter: The blade turn into a katana take on a sharper appearance and gains abnormally strong cutting abilities, Allowing it to cut through solid object with more ease then he could normal do with a different sword
equipment:None
bio/ history: Marcus is a teenager of British/Japaneses Deceit, been and raise in a positive environment in japan until six year old, one late night his father was walking home from work when he was killed by a spray bullet during a gunfight between two rival gang members. After which his mother and him was forced to live on the bad part of town; on top of which he was constantly bullied cause of his hair color and inheritance. This had jump start his cycle of violence as he was forced to teach himself how to fight in order to get the other students to back off.
At the age of 10 his mother was finally able to take him out of that neighborhood and transfer him to another school. However he still chose to get in unnecessary fights with the other students: usually with the ones are those who make fun of his looks and as time when by he start focusing on bullies who target other. This got him sent to the principal's office multiple time and landed him in juvenile court at least twice. Though he was acquitted the first time, he was put place in juvenile detention for putting another student in the hospital. Since then Marcus had only been in a fights when it couldn't be avoid. When he started high school his mother had enroll him in-Insert the name of the academy here- thinking that it would help keep him out of trouble, during his freshman year he only got in trouble once for his violences.
During the roleplay Marcus will take a shortcut to his house where he would either be kill directed by Zeke enemies or will be killed in the crossfire between one of Zeke's group and his enemies.
others: Marcus favorite hobby is cooking. |
3,678 | 84 | 5 | 1,278 | 8,109 | Yuriha was so lost in her own thoughts that she didn't even noticed that she had arrived at the market, much less that someone was following her, until a clerk greeted her. "Welcome, Miss Yuri...ha, we got some new samples that you might like. Want to try some?" Despite the fact that the twenty and something young man still couldn't say her foreign sounding name right without stuttering, even when Yuriha has been a regular here for a few months, he always greeted her with a genuine smile whenever she came by and saved some of the samples of new sweets just for her to try, which made her very happy to have chosen this place over any other.
"Hmm... thank you!" Yuriha said as she picked up the bite sized treat and put it on her mouth. "!" She had to consciously will her ears and tails to remain hidden when the small candy began to melt on her mouth, otherwise, they would have perked in reaction to the sudden jolt of pleasure that she felt. "What's this?" She asked the man after finishing the rest of it.
"It's a kind of sweet our manager came across on his last trip to the Amazon jungle, he likes to fancy being an adventurous arqueologist, you know? There was even that time when he swore to have seen a being the locals call Iara, she's somekind of river mermaid, you see? Can you really believe it? A grown up man who still believes that supernatural beings exist... ha, what a joke! Anyway, this candy for sure is real, and it's made from 100% wild local ingredients. No man as had a hand in cultivating them and they say that those candies are really good to your health, even an aphro..." The clerk stopped short of telling a teenager girl that the candies were actually aphrodisiac too as it was not something someone of her age should know, or care about.
A few minutes later, "Thank you for your patronage!" the clerk said as Yuriha left the market carrying two bags full of pretty much nothing but sweets, including a pack of those Amazonian candies and a box of deluxe chocolat that Yuriha intended to give to Hecate as an apology for being so rude earlier.
However, on her way back, Yuriha noticed a few black feathers scattered on the ground in a trail that would lead directly to their house. At first she thought that it were just some random bird, probably some crows, but then she felt a really strong magical power coming from a park not too far way from where she was, and instinctively knew that her master was in somekind of danger.
"Zeke-sama!" was all she said after looking around to confirm that ther wasn't any other person on the street, it was already beginning to get really dark after all, casting away her disguise, she ran as fast as she could in the towards the source of the power, even if she wasn't as fast as Hecate still no human could run as fast as she was. "Actually, it's much more fun someone who doesn't believe that we exist" Yuriha though remembering the clerk's words, indeed, the modern humans had a lot to learn about the beings that crawled in the shadows of their society.
Even with all of her power focused on running as fast as she could, when Yuriha arrived at the park Zeke was already shacking the hand of a boy she had never seen before and the source of the magical power had already disappeared. | Name: Yuriha
Age: It's a secret, teehee!
Gender: Female
Height: Cute, don't you think?
Weight: Don't ask that, baka!
Race: Half human/youkai (nine tailed fox) hybrid
Rank: Reincarnated low class devil
Appearance:
Personality: To be revealed in character.
Evil piece: Paw, worthy of 4.
Categorized: None yet
Normal Powers: All normal devil powers, plus kitsune powers which include the ability to generate and control extremely hot flames known as 'Fox Fire', enhanced physical abilities and senses, and shape shifting, though her forms are limited to a young and an adult version of herself, as well as a fox form which she rarely uses.
Magical Energy and Powers: Yuriha has a vast amount of magic power, given that she's a half-breed of the strongest youkai race, as well as a holder of a draconian Sacred Gear. Given her natural affinity to fire, Yuriha already mastered many spells of this element as well as some other times of general use magic.
Sacred Gear:
Location: Arm | Type: Wearable (Bracelet)
-Lore: The Void Gear is the manifestation of the soul of an unnamed dragon that was said to have achieved power equivalent to that of a Dragon King a long time ago. He was sealed in the gear, just like most of its kin, when the dragons destructive rampages threatened the very existence of the world. From that time on the Void Gear has appeared on many places and been held by many hands, almost always causing disaster and leaving a trail of destruction in its wake when its users invariably went berserk and destroyed everything on sight, until they were either killed by someone, or consumed by the gear's very own power.
-Powers: The user of the Void Gear can use it to absorb magic effects in a limited range, while this feature in use the gem at the bracelet's center turns pitch black and the user can't move. Once enough energy has been absorbed, some of the runes around the gem will begin to shine, signaling that the bracelet has 'charge' that can be spent to empower the user's next spell or attack. Only four charges can be held at a time, and they can only be spent all at one time, resetting the counter after each release.
-Revelations: None yet
-Balance breaker: None yet
-Sub Species: None yet
Bio: To be revealed in character.
Equipment: N/A.
Others: N/A. |
3,679 | 84 | 6 | 617 | 585 | It took him while, But Marcus finally notice how well he could see despite it being so dark, he figure it was because he was a demon now. He found that weird yet somewhat interesting. As Marcus followed him he notice a disturbances. His sense of hearing now enchanted pick up on the disturbance in the forest. Animal being spooked, Bird flying away, and the sound of trees and bushes blowing without the wind, it was giving him a bad vine. "Something wrong do you hear that?" Marcus asked his savior sounding like he was on edge. His eyes then looked around for something to use as a weapon when he saw a thick tree branch on was on the ground,he then ending up using his enhanced speed to get the the branch while barely noting how fast he just when. He then fixated on how weird that was before being spooked by strangle girl. He then ended up falling on his ass before fixing his eyes on the girl's strangle animal ears. it took him awhile but he finally asked the question on his mind. "Who the hell is she?" he asked the demon. | Name: Marcus Wilson
Age: 16
Gender: Male
race: Devil(Former human)
Rank: Lower Class Devil
Appearance note: Has the height of a 13-14 year old boy.
personality: Marcus is known to be hot-blooded and short tempered, he is known to beat up people who abuse others with the usual exception of those with higher social authority then him. It is cause of this that he is label has a juvenile delinquent by his most of his peers. However those who could actually hang out with him would know that he actually a kind person who can't stand to see other people get bullied.
Evil piece: Knight
Categorized: none yet
normal powers: all basic devil powers you can find at Zeke
magical energy and powers: Unknown
Secret Gear: The Phantom Blade: a Elven long sword with a green tranparent blade the can be summon from inside the user body(and soul). This blade will phase through thing with the exception of the last thing that user Verbally commends it to cut.
-Balance breaker: None right now
-sub species: Matter Cutter: The blade turn into a katana take on a sharper appearance and gains abnormally strong cutting abilities, Allowing it to cut through solid object with more ease then he could normal do with a different sword
equipment:None
bio/ history: Marcus is a teenager of British/Japaneses Deceit, been and raise in a positive environment in japan until six year old, one late night his father was walking home from work when he was killed by a spray bullet during a gunfight between two rival gang members. After which his mother and him was forced to live on the bad part of town; on top of which he was constantly bullied cause of his hair color and inheritance. This had jump start his cycle of violence as he was forced to teach himself how to fight in order to get the other students to back off.
At the age of 10 his mother was finally able to take him out of that neighborhood and transfer him to another school. However he still chose to get in unnecessary fights with the other students: usually with the ones are those who make fun of his looks and as time when by he start focusing on bullies who target other. This got him sent to the principal's office multiple time and landed him in juvenile court at least twice. Though he was acquitted the first time, he was put place in juvenile detention for putting another student in the hospital. Since then Marcus had only been in a fights when it couldn't be avoid. When he started high school his mother had enroll him in-Insert the name of the academy here- thinking that it would help keep him out of trouble, during his freshman year he only got in trouble once for his violences.
During the roleplay Marcus will take a shortcut to his house where he would either be kill directed by Zeke enemies or will be killed in the crossfire between one of Zeke's group and his enemies.
others: Marcus favorite hobby is cooking. |
3,680 | 84 | 7 | 686 | 2,548 | ==Zeke==
"very well, then you can follow me, if you eventually wish to go home or gain your own room feel free to say so" Zeke said as he nodded to the kid's answer.
From that point on they started to walk, Zeke was about to ask the kid his name when he felt an familair aura.
"Something wrong do you hear that?" the kid asked before starting to run towards the aura that was closing in.
Zeke just sighed at the entire ordeal.
==Hecate==
Silently Hecate was able to follow her own team member as she entered the market, she herself stayed outside and watched Yuriha though the windows, seeing her eat something and buying, she should have known, candy....
having seen enough Hecate started to walk back figuring it was fine, yet not long after did she stop dead in her tracks when she noticed the feathers on the ground.
As she was always more battle oriented she had done her research and with it she instantly knew what they belonged too, an fallen angel, seeing the amount of lost feathers it was likely a lower rank though..
still she did it again, she focused so much on trailing Fox girl that she failed to notice that an fallen had flew over them...
"Thank you for your patronage!" she suddenly heard behind her indicating that Yuriha had left the market, seeing a fallen has flew past them Hecate could not let her walk home on her own so she hid herself in some bushes waiting for Fox Girl to walk past her, at first to Hecate's relieve Fox Girl did not paid much attention to the feathers, hoping the walk back would be the same as the walk to the market, simple trailing for safety reasons, yet suddenly Fox Girl noticed something as she mentioned Z. (as she often called Zeke, though she had multiple nicknames for him)
looking around she grew her tail and ears and said something which Hecate did not really follow before she started to run off.
"damned Fox senses" was all Hecate said as she started to run after the girl, it was actually Hecate's first time running after Fox Girl so she was surprised at her speed, needing to use the knight piece in her at its maximum force to keep up, still she felt lucky that that was all she needed to do to keep up, if she had gone her full speed then the flames of her gear would surely let Fox Girl know she was being followed
==Zeke==
"Yuriha" Zeke called out to her after the kid asked who she was, not to answer the kid but to call her.
"Why have you gone outside, surely you must have noticed the Fallen and known its not safe right now, well at least you were being protected from the shadows" Zeke continued as he was looking behind her.
"come out Hecate" he said simple to the bushes.
on his command Hecate exited the bushes "Sorry Z, she left so I figured I'll better keep an eye on her"
Zeke nodded "you did good" after which he looked at Yuriha her bags "you realize that if you wish to take that with you, you have to carry it all by yourself" he simply said to Yuriha before switching his attention back to the Kid
"Kid, why not introduce yourself to these girls as they are your seniors and with that your new family members"
H "he's a new member?, huh, whatever, names Hecate, dont bother me too much and were fine"
(OOC: when multiple girls/ zeke are at one spot I will use the first letter of the first names to indicate who is speaking as I did with Hecate here) | Sexy as f**k |
3,681 | 84 | 8 | 1,278 | 8,109 | I'm sorry, Zeke-sama, I was just buying some... Yuriha stuttered a little, unable to find the right words, but then continued "supplies, I guess?" She said blushing, knowing that it was an obviously childish lie.
"It was my fault for not noticing the fallen, I had my guard down for a little" Yuriha said while stealing a quick glance in Hecate's direction, she couldn't have been more conspicuous about the source of her distraction even if she wanted.
"At least I got enough for everyone. I'm sure Moe-nee and the others will like it. Also..." She said while going trough her bags on search of the chocolaty she bought for Hecate. "I'm sorry for being rude earlier He..." She stuttered a little before finishing the phrase shyly "-chan?" The was a certain charm in being do blunt about her feelings, but certainly Yuriha wasn't aware of that.
She them turned to the boy, based on what Zeke had said earlier and on the pool of blood on the ground, Yuriha understood that the source of the magical power that she had felt earlier was Zeke performing the ritual to turn the boy into one of his own servants. But there was another one that was even more powerful just a few moments ago, she wondered what happened to it, but soon have to on thinking about that. Zeke-sama was well and her family had gained a new member, so in her eyes everything was good.
"I'm Yuriha,"she said to the boy while bowing courteously in a way that only a Japanese person would. "I'm happy that to have a new member in our family, please take care of me."
"Can we go home now, Zeke-sama? If we stay put for this much time Moe-nee will scold is all." Yuriha asked while turning towards their house, sending that even now,Moena's glare was trained on them. | Name: Yuriha
Age: It's a secret, teehee!
Gender: Female
Height: Cute, don't you think?
Weight: Don't ask that, baka!
Race: Half human/youkai (nine tailed fox) hybrid
Rank: Reincarnated low class devil
Appearance:
Personality: To be revealed in character.
Evil piece: Paw, worthy of 4.
Categorized: None yet
Normal Powers: All normal devil powers, plus kitsune powers which include the ability to generate and control extremely hot flames known as 'Fox Fire', enhanced physical abilities and senses, and shape shifting, though her forms are limited to a young and an adult version of herself, as well as a fox form which she rarely uses.
Magical Energy and Powers: Yuriha has a vast amount of magic power, given that she's a half-breed of the strongest youkai race, as well as a holder of a draconian Sacred Gear. Given her natural affinity to fire, Yuriha already mastered many spells of this element as well as some other times of general use magic.
Sacred Gear:
Location: Arm | Type: Wearable (Bracelet)
-Lore: The Void Gear is the manifestation of the soul of an unnamed dragon that was said to have achieved power equivalent to that of a Dragon King a long time ago. He was sealed in the gear, just like most of its kin, when the dragons destructive rampages threatened the very existence of the world. From that time on the Void Gear has appeared on many places and been held by many hands, almost always causing disaster and leaving a trail of destruction in its wake when its users invariably went berserk and destroyed everything on sight, until they were either killed by someone, or consumed by the gear's very own power.
-Powers: The user of the Void Gear can use it to absorb magic effects in a limited range, while this feature in use the gem at the bracelet's center turns pitch black and the user can't move. Once enough energy has been absorbed, some of the runes around the gem will begin to shine, signaling that the bracelet has 'charge' that can be spent to empower the user's next spell or attack. Only four charges can be held at a time, and they can only be spent all at one time, resetting the counter after each release.
-Revelations: None yet
-Balance breaker: None yet
-Sub Species: None yet
Bio: To be revealed in character.
Equipment: N/A.
Others: N/A. |
3,682 | 84 | 9 | 686 | 2,548 | ==Zeke-Hecate==
Zeke ignored the supplies comment, he already knew she had bought candy again..
"At least your safe, take better care next time" was all he said to her with a smile.
-
As Fox girl handed over the chocolate, Hecate grabbed it, she always loved chocolate.
"When were you rude" She asked though it was more a statement then a question "thanks"
-
Zeke nodded when Yuriha asked if they could go "yes, lets, and do not worry I'll just say we went all out together" he grinned, it was funny how Yuriha always felt like Moena would scold, sure Moena would be worried but the way Yuriha acted, you would think Moena would be waiting them up with a frying pan ready to spank their buts old school.
As the group exited the forest and starting to move back to their house, they had no idea that something was watching them, something that could hide its pressence even if it would right past you.
"Just as I thought, thats the Valefor brat, this could be interesting" | Sexy as f**k |
3,683 | 84 | 10 | 617 | 585 | Marcus didn't run toward the unknown force in the forest, well not Intentionally, He was simply trying to get a weapon to defend himself with. Being impale by a magic spear and meeting paranormal creature in the world had shaken him up a bit. Usually the most danger being he came across mere delinquent who took lunch for people smaller then them. It was fair to say that this was a bit much for him to get used to right away, Marcus was taken off edge when the two paranormals begin exchanging word so formally to each other.
he's a new member?, huh, whatever, names Hecate, don't bother me too much and were fine"
Marcus then looked weirdly at her. "Well she sure seem pleasant." he thought sarcastic. Though thinking back she remembered him about his past self.
"I'm Yuriha,"she said to the boy while bowing courteously in a way that only a Japanese person would. "I'm happy that to have a new member in our family, please take care of me."
Well she seem a lot more Pleasant then the red haired girl ,not to mention cuter, though she does seem to be a bit immature. "Is she cosplaying or are those ears real" he spoke quietly to himself.
So these two are suppose to be my seniors huh, well i suppose i should do what this guy says. He thought himself. He then bow the upper half of his body in a Japanese fashion. "Nice to meet you two, my name is Marcus Wilson, I'm a year two student." Marcus told them respectfully, though his height kind of made him look like he was still finishing middle school. | Name: Marcus Wilson
Age: 16
Gender: Male
race: Devil(Former human)
Rank: Lower Class Devil
Appearance note: Has the height of a 13-14 year old boy.
personality: Marcus is known to be hot-blooded and short tempered, he is known to beat up people who abuse others with the usual exception of those with higher social authority then him. It is cause of this that he is label has a juvenile delinquent by his most of his peers. However those who could actually hang out with him would know that he actually a kind person who can't stand to see other people get bullied.
Evil piece: Knight
Categorized: none yet
normal powers: all basic devil powers you can find at Zeke
magical energy and powers: Unknown
Secret Gear: The Phantom Blade: a Elven long sword with a green tranparent blade the can be summon from inside the user body(and soul). This blade will phase through thing with the exception of the last thing that user Verbally commends it to cut.
-Balance breaker: None right now
-sub species: Matter Cutter: The blade turn into a katana take on a sharper appearance and gains abnormally strong cutting abilities, Allowing it to cut through solid object with more ease then he could normal do with a different sword
equipment:None
bio/ history: Marcus is a teenager of British/Japaneses Deceit, been and raise in a positive environment in japan until six year old, one late night his father was walking home from work when he was killed by a spray bullet during a gunfight between two rival gang members. After which his mother and him was forced to live on the bad part of town; on top of which he was constantly bullied cause of his hair color and inheritance. This had jump start his cycle of violence as he was forced to teach himself how to fight in order to get the other students to back off.
At the age of 10 his mother was finally able to take him out of that neighborhood and transfer him to another school. However he still chose to get in unnecessary fights with the other students: usually with the ones are those who make fun of his looks and as time when by he start focusing on bullies who target other. This got him sent to the principal's office multiple time and landed him in juvenile court at least twice. Though he was acquitted the first time, he was put place in juvenile detention for putting another student in the hospital. Since then Marcus had only been in a fights when it couldn't be avoid. When he started high school his mother had enroll him in-Insert the name of the academy here- thinking that it would help keep him out of trouble, during his freshman year he only got in trouble once for his violences.
During the roleplay Marcus will take a shortcut to his house where he would either be kill directed by Zeke enemies or will be killed in the crossfire between one of Zeke's group and his enemies.
others: Marcus favorite hobby is cooking. |
3,684 | 84 | 11 | 1,278 | 8,109 | Yuriha noticed that Marcus was staring at her ears and tails while they where on their way home and suddenly became very self-conscious of them,"I hope he doesn't try to see if they are real." She thought as she gave a few more steps in Zeke's direction as if seeking her master's protection. In all fairness, she wasn't afraid of the boy, but it's just that when other people touch her in those places she feels just... strange and thinking about a boy she met today doing it was kind of... embarrassing.
Since her senses weren't alerting her of anything dangerous nearby, Yuriha heaved a relieved sigh and, after putting a lollipop in her mouth (she also offered one to Marcus, of course), she drew a small book, actually a shoujo manga, that she was carrying on her skirt's pocket and began reading it while dodging the obstacles in her way by instinct alone.
"The boy seems strong, you can trust him." The Void Dragon King's booming voice echoed on Yuriha's mind, she nodded silently "He's kind too, just like Zeke-sama." she thought, just as she continued reading her book. | Name: Yuriha
Age: It's a secret, teehee!
Gender: Female
Height: Cute, don't you think?
Weight: Don't ask that, baka!
Race: Half human/youkai (nine tailed fox) hybrid
Rank: Reincarnated low class devil
Appearance:
Personality: To be revealed in character.
Evil piece: Paw, worthy of 4.
Categorized: None yet
Normal Powers: All normal devil powers, plus kitsune powers which include the ability to generate and control extremely hot flames known as 'Fox Fire', enhanced physical abilities and senses, and shape shifting, though her forms are limited to a young and an adult version of herself, as well as a fox form which she rarely uses.
Magical Energy and Powers: Yuriha has a vast amount of magic power, given that she's a half-breed of the strongest youkai race, as well as a holder of a draconian Sacred Gear. Given her natural affinity to fire, Yuriha already mastered many spells of this element as well as some other times of general use magic.
Sacred Gear:
Location: Arm | Type: Wearable (Bracelet)
-Lore: The Void Gear is the manifestation of the soul of an unnamed dragon that was said to have achieved power equivalent to that of a Dragon King a long time ago. He was sealed in the gear, just like most of its kin, when the dragons destructive rampages threatened the very existence of the world. From that time on the Void Gear has appeared on many places and been held by many hands, almost always causing disaster and leaving a trail of destruction in its wake when its users invariably went berserk and destroyed everything on sight, until they were either killed by someone, or consumed by the gear's very own power.
-Powers: The user of the Void Gear can use it to absorb magic effects in a limited range, while this feature in use the gem at the bracelet's center turns pitch black and the user can't move. Once enough energy has been absorbed, some of the runes around the gem will begin to shine, signaling that the bracelet has 'charge' that can be spent to empower the user's next spell or attack. Only four charges can be held at a time, and they can only be spent all at one time, resetting the counter after each release.
-Revelations: None yet
-Balance breaker: None yet
-Sub Species: None yet
Bio: To be revealed in character.
Equipment: N/A.
Others: N/A. |
3,685 | 84 | 12 | 686 | 2,548 | If Sonitus could compare himself to any animal, he would instantly think crocodile. Cold, emotionless, silent. Most importantly, patient. All his plans required that one aspect. Everything he had envisioned for his future was entirely dependent on patience. However, currently he found himself extremely doubting his ability to wait.
The unlit warehouse made for an excellent hiding place. The shadows hid row upon row of boxes and shelves, some sort of wheelchair company. There were spare wheels, engine parts, even an entire section designated for the seat cushions. But he wasn't interested in using wheelchair parts. They were far more useful as objects to hide behind. He was currently situated within an empty box, silently waiting until his pursuers moved on. Yet they chose to stay, slowly walking the dark space in hopes of finding him. What was even more annoying, was that their leader was monologuing. The fool was probably spouting some crap about joining him and gaining power and influence, though he couldn't be sure since he didn't understand the language they were using. While he appreciated the fact he could hear approximately where the man was, he did find it irksome that he was being chased by such an idiot. If it weren't for the fact he'd give himself away, he almost felt like shouting out to the man to make him stop. He never got why people ranted like that. It was a waste of energy, and always ended up bad for the speaker. His train of thought was interrupted as one of the cronies walked past his hiding spot.
Quickly kicking his leg out, he made the man trip. Before the henchman could make a noise, Sonitus quickly covered the mans mouth. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a sharp knife and quickly slit the mans throat. The body was discarded inside the box he had hid in before he continued to a different location.
He didn't entirely know why these men were after him, although he did have several guesses. Perhaps he eavesdropped on the wrong person, and was discovered. Perhaps this was some revenge plot for a blackmail from long ago. Either way, he planned to eliminate these fools before they could do the same to him. He continued down the empty isle, careful to keep his footsteps as silent as possible. As he approached the end, he could hear another guards heavy footfalls coming near. He increased his pace, trying to avoid being detected. He didn't reach the corner a moment too soon, for as he whipped himself around the corner, he slammed straight into one of his pursuers. They both hit the ground as a result of the impact, but he moved first. Throwing his knife, it landed right between the mans eye. Two down, several more to go. He started towards the man in order to retrieve his knife when there was suddenly a loud crash. Apparently that first guard was not as securely hidden as he had anticipated. Loud running could be heard. It was coming from multiple directions, he was nearly surrounded. Looking around, he saw only one option ... run.
Sonitus quickly darted down the path that he calculated to be the way they weren't coming from yet. A few sharp turns later and he had found himself at a door. Kicking it open, he entered what appeared to be a staircase. He heard shouting behind him, the loud sound of the door being kicked open no doubt giving him away. Without thought he bolted up the stairs. No doubt this lead to an office of some kind. As he reached the top of the stairs, his guess was right. He quickly ran into the unlit room, and found a nice desk to hide under as far from the door as he could. A precursory examination of the place showed that the only way out was either the door he had come from, or a window leading to a painful drop onto hard asphalt. He had thought of trying to run down the stairs before they could arrive, but it was too late. A loud stomping noise indicated they had arrived.
As the thugs entered the room, the leader started talking again. He resisted the urge to sigh at the gesture. The sounds of the thugs grew nearer, and if he guessed, they likely had one posted at the door. Even if he managed to slay the nearest one, he'd still be stuck. He was about to make his move when he found himself being pulled out of his hiding place. Apparently one of the thugs was a lot more quiet than he had anticipated. He reached into his pocket to pull out his knife, only to find it wasn't there. Shit. He'd left it in the head of the last thug. Despite his best efforts to escape, he was simply overpowered by the man. The thug shouted out to the others, and he found himself being dragged towards the leader.
However, they didn't stop to kill him in the room. Idiots. If he was in charge, he'd have killed himself right when he was found. Apparently they were going to take him outside and shoot him into a dumpster. Idiots, total freaking idiots. These were less of thugs and more like baboons given big sticks. Nevertheless, he would end up dead either way. With no weapon, and not enough strength to overpower the two holding him, or wriggle free, he was stuck. The leader cruel smirked before pulling out a gun. There was a loud bang, a burst of pain, then the feeling of soaring through the air before his body landed in the garbage. Frankly, his last moments weren't of 'I don't want to die'. The were filled with regret ... of being killed by such idiots. It was extremely embarrassing to have failed that badly.
As his blood oozed out into the garbage, he began to focus more on the pain. It felt like something was poking him in the back, probably a chunk of cardboard or something. Trying to make his death at least more comfortable, he tried moving his hand around to find something soft. Maybe on old diaper, or a junk towel. Anything soft would do just fine. However, he couldn't move his hand, and he felt himself growing weak. Things started to get dark, and he felt really ... tired. His vision became unfocused, which was rather pointless as there wasn't much to see other than the top of the dumpster. His thoughts became less coherent as he faded ... his last thought being 'This really ... sucks' | Sexy as f**k |
3,686 | 84 | 13 | 617 | 585 | -------while moving home------------
Marcus couldn't help but notice that the fox girl was trying to avoid him for some reason, he didn't have a clear idea as of why. While thinking to himself the girls animal like feature seem a bit real to him, so he guess she was something like a kitsune, or fox spirit. He could help but wonder what else existed in this world. The girl soon give him a lollipop in which he took happyfully. "Thank you" he told her nicely. "She seem like a sweet girl" he thought, unlike little miss sunshine with the blonde hair.
-------At the base------------------
Marcus had nobbled at Zeke when he finish speaking. "Yes sir, I plan on asking a few question,but Trust me I pan on going near anything until a have a go idea what i'm in for." He told him honestly. Marcus then followed the ladies inside and was fixation on the sexiness of the girl inside, follow by spooked by the girl's demonic appearance with made him jump and fall on his ass. "Jeezus!" He stated out loud before feeling a sharp pain in his head for calling on a religious figure. "Ouch" he said out loud.
Marcus was a little scare of her at first, however the demon girl seem friendly so his dear had retraced a bit. She seem like responsible type. He does with however that she wasn't wearing such skimpy cloth; don't get it wrong he didn't mind such eye candy to look at, what he does mind however that there was two girls their to observe his actions. He was forced to look away from her to preserve his appearance with the two other girls.
The girl then asked him a question in wish turn his attendance back to him.Marcus decide to position Hecate between himself and the demon, keeping her close to him so she may keep her from eating him. He couldn't help but wonder if he was really safe form her or if she was going to eat or from the looks of it become her new sex slave. "Uh yea, my name is Marcus Wilson and though i may seem human apparently i been turn to...some sort of demon, i believe it was like a,dee-vil or something." He pointed out nervously while trying to look her in the face instead of her breast; So far his eye sneak in a peek at least four times.
IC note: Though Marcus doesn't know much about Christianity being raised Buddhist, His mother would you religious style swears like "god damn it", or "Oh christ". usually speaking those words in English which sore of rubbed off him. | Name: Marcus Wilson
Age: 16
Gender: Male
race: Devil(Former human)
Rank: Lower Class Devil
Appearance note: Has the height of a 13-14 year old boy.
personality: Marcus is known to be hot-blooded and short tempered, he is known to beat up people who abuse others with the usual exception of those with higher social authority then him. It is cause of this that he is label has a juvenile delinquent by his most of his peers. However those who could actually hang out with him would know that he actually a kind person who can't stand to see other people get bullied.
Evil piece: Knight
Categorized: none yet
normal powers: all basic devil powers you can find at Zeke
magical energy and powers: Unknown
Secret Gear: The Phantom Blade: a Elven long sword with a green tranparent blade the can be summon from inside the user body(and soul). This blade will phase through thing with the exception of the last thing that user Verbally commends it to cut.
-Balance breaker: None right now
-sub species: Matter Cutter: The blade turn into a katana take on a sharper appearance and gains abnormally strong cutting abilities, Allowing it to cut through solid object with more ease then he could normal do with a different sword
equipment:None
bio/ history: Marcus is a teenager of British/Japaneses Deceit, been and raise in a positive environment in japan until six year old, one late night his father was walking home from work when he was killed by a spray bullet during a gunfight between two rival gang members. After which his mother and him was forced to live on the bad part of town; on top of which he was constantly bullied cause of his hair color and inheritance. This had jump start his cycle of violence as he was forced to teach himself how to fight in order to get the other students to back off.
At the age of 10 his mother was finally able to take him out of that neighborhood and transfer him to another school. However he still chose to get in unnecessary fights with the other students: usually with the ones are those who make fun of his looks and as time when by he start focusing on bullies who target other. This got him sent to the principal's office multiple time and landed him in juvenile court at least twice. Though he was acquitted the first time, he was put place in juvenile detention for putting another student in the hospital. Since then Marcus had only been in a fights when it couldn't be avoid. When he started high school his mother had enroll him in-Insert the name of the academy here- thinking that it would help keep him out of trouble, during his freshman year he only got in trouble once for his violences.
During the roleplay Marcus will take a shortcut to his house where he would either be kill directed by Zeke enemies or will be killed in the crossfire between one of Zeke's group and his enemies.
others: Marcus favorite hobby is cooking. |
3,687 | 84 | 14 | 617 | 585 | *Edited a bit | Name: Marcus Wilson
Age: 16
Gender: Male
race: Devil(Former human)
Rank: Lower Class Devil
Appearance note: Has the height of a 13-14 year old boy.
personality: Marcus is known to be hot-blooded and short tempered, he is known to beat up people who abuse others with the usual exception of those with higher social authority then him. It is cause of this that he is label has a juvenile delinquent by his most of his peers. However those who could actually hang out with him would know that he actually a kind person who can't stand to see other people get bullied.
Evil piece: Knight
Categorized: none yet
normal powers: all basic devil powers you can find at Zeke
magical energy and powers: Unknown
Secret Gear: The Phantom Blade: a Elven long sword with a green tranparent blade the can be summon from inside the user body(and soul). This blade will phase through thing with the exception of the last thing that user Verbally commends it to cut.
-Balance breaker: None right now
-sub species: Matter Cutter: The blade turn into a katana take on a sharper appearance and gains abnormally strong cutting abilities, Allowing it to cut through solid object with more ease then he could normal do with a different sword
equipment:None
bio/ history: Marcus is a teenager of British/Japaneses Deceit, been and raise in a positive environment in japan until six year old, one late night his father was walking home from work when he was killed by a spray bullet during a gunfight between two rival gang members. After which his mother and him was forced to live on the bad part of town; on top of which he was constantly bullied cause of his hair color and inheritance. This had jump start his cycle of violence as he was forced to teach himself how to fight in order to get the other students to back off.
At the age of 10 his mother was finally able to take him out of that neighborhood and transfer him to another school. However he still chose to get in unnecessary fights with the other students: usually with the ones are those who make fun of his looks and as time when by he start focusing on bullies who target other. This got him sent to the principal's office multiple time and landed him in juvenile court at least twice. Though he was acquitted the first time, he was put place in juvenile detention for putting another student in the hospital. Since then Marcus had only been in a fights when it couldn't be avoid. When he started high school his mother had enroll him in-Insert the name of the academy here- thinking that it would help keep him out of trouble, during his freshman year he only got in trouble once for his violences.
During the roleplay Marcus will take a shortcut to his house where he would either be kill directed by Zeke enemies or will be killed in the crossfire between one of Zeke's group and his enemies.
others: Marcus favorite hobby is cooking. |
3,688 | 84 | 15 | 1,258 | 2,264 | I have been waiting for you all~
A voice rang out from above the main entrance hall, a man dressed in fine clothing standing at the top of the stairs with his arms crossed in a prideful manner and a wide smile plastered across his face as she looked down to everyone with his azure eyes. "Seems like I missed Zeke, well that cannot be helped since-" After flicking out one of his wrists to straighten his sleeve, the man reached up and pushed his glasses up a little, the light catching them and giving him a rather sinister look "I was napping." Which was destroyed a moment later...
"Oh a new person? Well, allow me to introduce myself. I am Orin, number one best friend to Zeke Volray"
Orin made his way down the stairs towards everyone, his gaze falling on Moena for a moment "Why didn't you wake me when Zeke got here? Am I really not worth the bother?" He shook his head at the very notion that he was not "Of course it must be because you really do care about me and wanted me to rest right?" He grinned away, trying to tease the women but soon switched topic, trying to avoid being punished. "Sadly I cannot accept such advances. After all my heart belongs to only one." Almost like a homing missile he was next to Yuriha trying to touch her ears.
He did not do this nearly enough in his opinion, though it could not be helped since he did not really live within the house so he could not attempt man handling the half kitsune as much as he wanted. However that was likely a good thing for her given how blunt he was about his feelings towards her. "Are you looking forward to the rating game my love?" He peered towards the new member of the growing family "I can already see he seems to be building quite the army heh. A strong looking one at that." | Name: Sonitus Polley
Age: 17
Gender: Male
race: Human
Rank: Low class devil, Reincarnated
appearance:
personality: Sonitus has a tricky personality. Since he rarely speaks, and when he does it is quiet and shy sounding, one may think he is afraid of other people. On some levels that is the truth, while on others it couldn't be further. The act of being shy is an excellent tool for lowering peoples defenses. It's amazing how much people will tell another person when that person listens. He also is a master eavesdropper, and can mask his presence quite well. Using his information, he mostly keeps it to himself. But this is where his sneaky side takes a turn for the manipulative. He has no qualms about blackmailing people, even his own team. He also is not afraid to withhold certain facts from his leader at times. What reasons he may do this are unknown to all but himself, but so far he has shown nothing but the utmost loyalty.
Evil piece: Bishop
magical energy and powers: High potential for magical energy, but has never consciously used any powers.
Secret Gear: Sonitus uses a gear that allows him to select audio snippets from around him, and replay them. It's range is about a block, but the further he goes from his person, the less accurate it gets. If he goes too far, he will hear every sound at that distance at the same time, which is very disorienting.
-revelations: Later evolutions allow him to selectively limit it to important pieces of information based on preset parameters at greater distances. It also can boost the total range to an entire city, and cover all forms of communication. He can even place part of this into entities, such as animals, allowing them to act as relay points to increase his range.
equipment: Throwing knives which he rarely uses, and primarily function as a last defense. He keeps them in a special compartment within his hoodie, which allows for quick removal and use. Should an enemy get too close, he will target their eyes and attempt to blind them. He will then focus on a quick escape, as he is not a fighter.
bio/ history: Sonitus does not reveal much of anything about his past. The only known information is that he was (will be) found in a puddle of his own blood, slowly bleeding to death in some back alley.
others: |
3,689 | 84 | 16 | 686 | 2,548 | ==Moena==
(Before Zeke got home:)
Moena sighed as the new called Jesus which was followed by a stab to the head, at least he was a devil, that was for sure.
But soon after he started to nicely introduce himself.
"Nice to meet you, my name is Moena Sasumi" she then glowed and suddenly changed into her human shape "I am Master's queen, I take it you are a new member of our little family?" she then stepped aside "come in, i'll show you to the living room"
---------------
(after Orin came down)
As the devil was making his advances Moena felt she should step in, normally master would do that but he was not around at this time so it was the queens job.
"Orin, you lolli loving perf..."
But before she could continue a splash of cold water fell on Orin from the air.
A new face came running down the stairs "Ah, Sumimasen Orin-sama, I was practicing and it seems I made a small mistake what cause the water to fall, I hoped no one was standing under the stairs but... SUMIMASEN" Runa ranted while keeping to her overly polite way as she bowed to Orin as a apology.
Moena smiled, it was a great timing to give the guy a cold shower even though she knew Runa would never do that on purpose, it was a real accident.
"Anyway, I guess master should be back soon, if everyone would wait in the living room" She then looked at Runa "can you make some thee?"
Runa bowed as she replied "Hai, I would love to" she then walked into the left room while Yuriha and Hecate guided the guys to the right room, the living room.
Moena however went up, hoping to find Ophilia and Yumi as those were the only ones not downstairs yet.
She found Ophilia in her room and Yumi had only just arrived back, which means Master would return soon.
as the 3 girls entered the living room the floor lit up, revealing the groups crest.
Soon after Zeke showed up with an blood drenched boy in his arms.
He placed the kid on the couch, he would get it cleaned later and sat down in his own chair before looking around the room.
"seems everyone is here" Runa walked up to him to hand him a cup of thee "thanks"
He drank his thee slowly as the newest kid started to wake up.
"welcome back to live kid" he said, his voice showed that he was tired after today but he had promised Marcus some answers and the newest kid would want some as well he figured... | Sexy as f**k |
3,690 | 84 | 17 | 686 | 2,548 | Death, the ultimate end which all creatures speed to at a rate that is generally far too fast for their liking. Since he was not a particularly religious person, Sonitus didn't have any expectations for being dead. That said, he did at least know of what people thought was the afterlife. Clouds, strange people with bird wings glued to their backs. Or someplace with fire that was bad. Waking up on a couch surrounded by others near his age, wearing school uniforms of some kind? That was totally unexpected.
Glancing around the room, he quickly tried to plot out escape paths. His first path would be to jump behind the couch and sprint towards the nearest window. Hopefully he could use momentum to break through, and providing the fall was not too great he could make his escape. There were too many risks with that one though, and he'd rather not break his legs and ruin any chance of future escape. The second option was to try and bolt out the door the group appeared to be coming from. The difficult factor would be getting past the arriving youths, and then navigating his way outside. The third option was a variation of the second, the difference being that he would take a hostage. With a hostage he could keep the others at bay, while also using the prisoner to help him navigate his way out. He quickly reached inside one of his pockets for a knife, but found it was empty. He remembered leaving it back in the skull of the idiot thug ... so the hostage plan was out for now.
Sonitus narrowed his eyes at who he guessed was the leader. Perhaps he could grab a hold of the cup the man was using, break it, and use a fragment's sharp edge to take him prisoner. He quickly raised himself into a sitting position, as he was trying to avoid looking weak. He was also incredibly tense, ready to enter a run from his position should he need to. "Who are you?" His voice was cold, his eyes moved about again as he scanned the room a second time. As more memories were returning to him on how he died, he found himself with more questions than answers. This situation was becoming incredibly annoying, nothing was making any sense. If he had been stabilized, he would have been at a hospital where the surgeons could have worked on him. If his knowledge was correct, hospitals didn't just give out patients randomly to complete strangers, let alone a group high school aged children. | Sexy as f**k |
3,691 | 84 | 18 | 1,278 | 8,109 | ---Outside the House---
”I’m sorry for that Moe-nee, but…” Yuriha apologized to Moena, but didn’t dare to mention the true reason why she ate so much, since she already knew that. However, Yuriha entered their house with a smile on her lips after Moena sighed and took the bags out of her hands.
---Inside the Main Hall---
”Tadaima!” Yuriha still kept the rather Japanese habit of announcing that she’d returned whenever she entered their house, though it was less out of politeness and more because she liked when someone greeted her back.
However, today, the one waiting them at wasn’t no one of their family, or better, it was someone more or less like family, but still…
Yuriha hadn’t even had the time to process Orin’s flamboyant entry speech and he was already draped around her and touching her ears like she were a lost puppy, or something like this. Not that Yuriha was really bothered by this, actually, she did like the care but it’s just that it’s embarrassing to be touched like this in front of everyone.
”Mmm… it’s been a while, Ori-kyun.” Yuriha said greeting him back, while letting out a was moan that was more cat than fox-like. Moena was about to grab Orin by the collar before Yuriha was further harassed by the lovable pervert, but then, a shower of cold water washed away his heat.
A moment later Runa came down the stairs apologizing for her mistake and, before the chaos could get bigger, Moena gave some quick commands to everyone before going up the stairs. Yuriha and Hecate were told to lead the Orin and Marcus to the living room, while Runa went to brew some tea for them all.
---At the Living Room---
Yuriha and Hecate showed the boys the way to the couches, more for Marcus’s sake then Orin’s as the latter passed so much time at their house that, sometimes Yuriha heard Moena calling him a freeloader, though she didn’t knew what that meant.
However, before they stepped in the living room, Hecate stopped both Yuriha and Orin and told them to go get a shower and some dry clothes, because they were making a mess out of the hallway. To avoid any further complications Marcus was left alone in the living room while Hecate went upstairs to help Yuriha avoid Orin's advances.
---At the Girl’s Bathroom---
”Could you stop moving, please, the shampoo will get your eyes.” Hecate said while she was trying, and failing, to help Yuriha bathe since she never did it unless someone went in with her.
“Mmm… not there, please, He-chan… mmm” Said Yuriha as Hecate was trying to wash her tails.
”I said to stop moving, godammit, look at the mess you’ve done!”Having mentioned the name of the Big G, Hecate was reward with a sharp stab in her head, which made her trip on a soap bar and fall over Yuriha. The ”KYAHH!” that Orin heard while eavesdropping form the men’s bathroom was proof that Hecate had touched something else than Yuriha’s beastly appendage during the fall.
”F*ck! Don’t you know when someone is blaspheming, you bastard!” Hecate shouted towards the heavens.
After that, both girls went in the bathtub together before and stayed there for some time, before going back to the living room. Their bonding slightly bigger thanks to the shared shower.
---Back at the Living Room---
When the three of them, Yuriha, Orin and Hecate, arrived back at the living room, fresh out of their baths, everyone except Moena and Zeke were there. While they waited Runa served them some fresh brewed tea, the perfect thing to have after a nice bath, she even remembered to make some of Yuriha’s favorite, barley tea.
“Thanks, Runa-san… mmm…” Yuriha said after drinking a cup of tea and then, snuggling with her favorite cushion, again acting more like a lazy cat than a fox.
It didn’t took long, however, for Moena to come in, followed shortly by Zeke teleporting into the room while carrying a boy that smelled of many unpleasant things, including blood that wasn’t his own.
”Grr…”Yuriha growled as her senses where suddenly startled by boy waking up and looking around with eyes that betrayed his killing intent. She had seen eyes like those for a long time, so there was no way she couldn’t know when someone wished evil upon her, or any other person, so openly.
However, instead of readying herself to attack him, Yuriha ran and hid behind Moena, while still scowling at the boy. It wasn’t normal of her to do that, but this boy had an aura that remembered Yuriha of one of the few people that she feared, a devil that couldn’t be killed by her even after he’d driven her to berserk and instead reveled in terrifying a young and lost girl and would have killed her if not for Zeke’s interference under the authority of the very own Lucifer.
The name of that devil is Riser Phenex, a person Yuriha will always hate as long as she lives. | Name: Yuriha
Age: It's a secret, teehee!
Gender: Female
Height: Cute, don't you think?
Weight: Don't ask that, baka!
Race: Half human/youkai (nine tailed fox) hybrid
Rank: Reincarnated low class devil
Appearance:
Personality: To be revealed in character.
Evil piece: Paw, worthy of 4.
Categorized: None yet
Normal Powers: All normal devil powers, plus kitsune powers which include the ability to generate and control extremely hot flames known as 'Fox Fire', enhanced physical abilities and senses, and shape shifting, though her forms are limited to a young and an adult version of herself, as well as a fox form which she rarely uses.
Magical Energy and Powers: Yuriha has a vast amount of magic power, given that she's a half-breed of the strongest youkai race, as well as a holder of a draconian Sacred Gear. Given her natural affinity to fire, Yuriha already mastered many spells of this element as well as some other times of general use magic.
Sacred Gear:
Location: Arm | Type: Wearable (Bracelet)
-Lore: The Void Gear is the manifestation of the soul of an unnamed dragon that was said to have achieved power equivalent to that of a Dragon King a long time ago. He was sealed in the gear, just like most of its kin, when the dragons destructive rampages threatened the very existence of the world. From that time on the Void Gear has appeared on many places and been held by many hands, almost always causing disaster and leaving a trail of destruction in its wake when its users invariably went berserk and destroyed everything on sight, until they were either killed by someone, or consumed by the gear's very own power.
-Powers: The user of the Void Gear can use it to absorb magic effects in a limited range, while this feature in use the gem at the bracelet's center turns pitch black and the user can't move. Once enough energy has been absorbed, some of the runes around the gem will begin to shine, signaling that the bracelet has 'charge' that can be spent to empower the user's next spell or attack. Only four charges can be held at a time, and they can only be spent all at one time, resetting the counter after each release.
-Revelations: None yet
-Balance breaker: None yet
-Sub Species: None yet
Bio: To be revealed in character.
Equipment: N/A.
Others: N/A. |
3,692 | 84 | 19 | 617 | 585 | ---Inside the Main Hall---
Marcus was amazed that Moena was about had changed her appearance like that, However it doesn't change the fact that he was still remain a little bit weary of her; unlike Zeke who he trusts cause he saved him. Meanwhile he keep his ears toward the teen with black hair as he watched him toy with the ears of Kitsune causing her to make cute sound in which he found somewhat cute, only for another lady to apparently spill water on him. Marcus couldn't help but burst out laughing him for two minute straight. he could tell if the girl meant it or not but that was pretty damn funny. To him this Orin seem to be full of himself, he can't say he like the sort of character however he own it the Zeke to try to get along with him.
---inside the living room(Before wakes up Sonitus)---
Marcus though it was best to stay the living room, With his clothes kind of blood from his near death experiment. He didn't have a change of clothes on him nor did he want to bother anyone. Presides With all this supernatural stuffing going on he rather not even breath on anything until he find out what is which. When his peer came back he kindly share a cup of tea with them. All of a sudden he saw a red flash of light causing him to jump. "Shit" before getting up and crouch behind the crouch. After all, Last time he saw a flash of light he ended up fatally wounded by a glowing spear. "Shit what the fuck is happening!" he asked out loud seeming Panic. HE then looks around for something to use as a weapon. When he saw Yuriha glowing he can almost confirm something was happening "Are we being attacked?".
---While Sonitus wakes up---
Marcus had calm down a bit such then beforehand. He watched what was going on from his original seat .
"I hope you don't mind waiting for your questions, we first have to straighten out the current situation with our newest member"
Marcus couldn't help but sigh. He was impatience he want to find out why he was kill in that forest. "Very well." Marcus simply told him trying to repression his annoyed tone, as he pant around the room. HE could help but notice how tense everyone in the room was, including Ms.Sunshine who had her hand on her sword. He begin to wonder if if he should pick the fire iron he had moved close to his seat. | Name: Marcus Wilson
Age: 16
Gender: Male
race: Devil(Former human)
Rank: Lower Class Devil
Appearance note: Has the height of a 13-14 year old boy.
personality: Marcus is known to be hot-blooded and short tempered, he is known to beat up people who abuse others with the usual exception of those with higher social authority then him. It is cause of this that he is label has a juvenile delinquent by his most of his peers. However those who could actually hang out with him would know that he actually a kind person who can't stand to see other people get bullied.
Evil piece: Knight
Categorized: none yet
normal powers: all basic devil powers you can find at Zeke
magical energy and powers: Unknown
Secret Gear: The Phantom Blade: a Elven long sword with a green tranparent blade the can be summon from inside the user body(and soul). This blade will phase through thing with the exception of the last thing that user Verbally commends it to cut.
-Balance breaker: None right now
-sub species: Matter Cutter: The blade turn into a katana take on a sharper appearance and gains abnormally strong cutting abilities, Allowing it to cut through solid object with more ease then he could normal do with a different sword
equipment:None
bio/ history: Marcus is a teenager of British/Japaneses Deceit, been and raise in a positive environment in japan until six year old, one late night his father was walking home from work when he was killed by a spray bullet during a gunfight between two rival gang members. After which his mother and him was forced to live on the bad part of town; on top of which he was constantly bullied cause of his hair color and inheritance. This had jump start his cycle of violence as he was forced to teach himself how to fight in order to get the other students to back off.
At the age of 10 his mother was finally able to take him out of that neighborhood and transfer him to another school. However he still chose to get in unnecessary fights with the other students: usually with the ones are those who make fun of his looks and as time when by he start focusing on bullies who target other. This got him sent to the principal's office multiple time and landed him in juvenile court at least twice. Though he was acquitted the first time, he was put place in juvenile detention for putting another student in the hospital. Since then Marcus had only been in a fights when it couldn't be avoid. When he started high school his mother had enroll him in-Insert the name of the academy here- thinking that it would help keep him out of trouble, during his freshman year he only got in trouble once for his violences.
During the roleplay Marcus will take a shortcut to his house where he would either be kill directed by Zeke enemies or will be killed in the crossfire between one of Zeke's group and his enemies.
others: Marcus favorite hobby is cooking. |
3,693 | 84 | 20 | 686 | 2,548 | Shocked? He was beyond shocked. This whole series of events was incredibly mind blowing to him. He had half a mind to try and force his way out of the room, or bolt out the window now. It was then he realized that they were all had a weapon of some kind. He was terribly outmatched, and if he managed to escape, he wouldn't get far. It took a second longer for him to realize something much more important. They were all being unnerved by his own intensity, as he had been acting like a cornered animal. They were likely concerned that he would lash out, and harm one of their own in some way. With this mistake now illuminated, he corrected it immediately. His face changed from a cold glare to just cold and empty. He liked to consider himself an expert in hiding himself, and right at that moment he had been unveiled.
"What do you want?" Taking a second glance at his situation, it was very clear that he wasn't going to be interrogated or tortured. Waking up on a rather nice couch and being directly addressed by the leader would indicate they were trying to recruit him. For what? He did not know. However, he would hopefully soon find out. This talk of powers and abilities was intriguing, as it gave him clues as to who he was dealing with. Currently, his speculation was that he had somehow come upon a cult, and they were trying to induct him as their newest member. Perhaps they were linked to those thugs, and were trying to trick him into thinking he was dead so he would feel indebted to them. All speculation, but it was a start.
(mention everyone why not) | Sexy as f**k |
3,694 | 84 | 21 | 1,258 | 2,264 | *SPLASH*
Orin was awakened from his daze caused by petting Yuriha, the feeling of cold water slamming into him from above was a sure fire way to cool him down, even if it was a accident. when Runa came running up to them Orin tried to remain collected as his body shivered a little form the cold "I-I-I-I'm fine. Don't worry about it!" He said trying to be brave but he was very thankful when he was taken away to get some new cloths and wash up. Sadly it seemed like he ended up taking one alone despite his protests that it would be so much faster, and his attempts to open the door being foiled as well.
Relaxing into the bath he gave off a relaxed sigh, it was nice at least after that cold shower to have such a nice warm bath to relax in and forget your troubles. However it seemed like the girls next door were dedicated to pushing his buttons. His glasses slowly fogged up from what he heared until ”KYAHH!” At which point he stood up from the bath in frustration and grabbed his head "I wanna see! I wanna see! I wanna see! Rah!"
By the time they had gone back downstairs to the living room Orin had gone back to looking refined and calm even while everything else was going on around him. He seemed content to simply watch for the time being, after all it was not his place to interfere, not yet anyway. | Name: Sonitus Polley
Age: 17
Gender: Male
race: Human
Rank: Low class devil, Reincarnated
appearance:
personality: Sonitus has a tricky personality. Since he rarely speaks, and when he does it is quiet and shy sounding, one may think he is afraid of other people. On some levels that is the truth, while on others it couldn't be further. The act of being shy is an excellent tool for lowering peoples defenses. It's amazing how much people will tell another person when that person listens. He also is a master eavesdropper, and can mask his presence quite well. Using his information, he mostly keeps it to himself. But this is where his sneaky side takes a turn for the manipulative. He has no qualms about blackmailing people, even his own team. He also is not afraid to withhold certain facts from his leader at times. What reasons he may do this are unknown to all but himself, but so far he has shown nothing but the utmost loyalty.
Evil piece: Bishop
magical energy and powers: High potential for magical energy, but has never consciously used any powers.
Secret Gear: Sonitus uses a gear that allows him to select audio snippets from around him, and replay them. It's range is about a block, but the further he goes from his person, the less accurate it gets. If he goes too far, he will hear every sound at that distance at the same time, which is very disorienting.
-revelations: Later evolutions allow him to selectively limit it to important pieces of information based on preset parameters at greater distances. It also can boost the total range to an entire city, and cover all forms of communication. He can even place part of this into entities, such as animals, allowing them to act as relay points to increase his range.
equipment: Throwing knives which he rarely uses, and primarily function as a last defense. He keeps them in a special compartment within his hoodie, which allows for quick removal and use. Should an enemy get too close, he will target their eyes and attempt to blind them. He will then focus on a quick escape, as he is not a fighter.
bio/ history: Sonitus does not reveal much of anything about his past. The only known information is that he was (will be) found in a puddle of his own blood, slowly bleeding to death in some back alley.
others: |
3,695 | 84 | 22 | 686 | 2,548 | Zeke smiled as the new kid tried to relax, he knew the kid was more hiding his own actions as he could still feel his tension, but that much is to be expected and at least the kid put it aside for the moment.
His smiled caused the girls to relax again, though Hecate kept her hand at her sword wanting to be sure.
Moena also decided to stay in her devil shape for multiple reasons, one is to comfort Yuriha, an other is cause she can act if the situation were to turn again and then there is the little matter that she just loved to be like this.
"what I want is nothing more then for you to listen, I am sure you have quite some questions about what has happened, such as why you are not dead, for that question I will give a simple answer, you did die but I revived you as a devil of our little family"
Zeke waited a little to let it sink on as he felt the kid was not going to believe him, disbelieve oozed from his aura.
"You have seen Moena her form, that should be enough to show you this is not a fairy tail, if you still dont believe me try praying to god, off course I think you may also wonder why you can see in a situation as this"
Zeke nodded to Moena who pressed the light button, everyone in the room would still be able to see as well as during the day.
"In the course of the following days you will likely notice other small changes" Zeke said before taking an other sip of his thee.
"Well to return to your question, There is nothing much I want or need from you, you are pretty much free to live your live as you wish, after this little talk you can go home, if you wish you can get a room here just as easy, But as I have reincarnated you There will be things you need to know, to start with in order to revive you I had to basically add you to my family, while your live will still be yours I do hope you wish to join us as well, otherwise you shall become a stray which is bad for you, devils outside us, fallen angels and holy angels and exorcists all hunt stray's, if you wish to go out on your own you need to be aware of this, regardless there may come times where I will ask you to lend us your strength, if you go your own way you will be free to refuse but I hope you will aid us"
Zeke knew he was putting a bit too much emphasis on he is free to go his own way, but seeing the kid's mental state it would be good to let him know he is not required to do anything, Zeke hoped he would relax. | Sexy as f**k |
3,696 | 84 | 23 | 1,278 | 8,109 | Yuriha was still quite wary of the new boy, but having Moena nearby calmed even if just a little bit. "He has the blood of many other people over him and it's fresh. Why are you doing this, Zeke-sama?
"Want me to deal with him for you, kid?" The Void Dragon King made an offer, but Yuriha refused it, "No, Zeke-sama must have his reason and I trust him, but still if he threatens my family again I'll need your help.""As you wish, kid. I really don't understand it why did I have to end in the body of someone so kind that she tries to fill me with sweets instead of souls. Hahaha... just my luck!"
After having her private talk with the Void Dragon King, Yuriha was much more relaxed, she knew that she could protect her loved ones if she needed to, so for now she would trust on Zeke's decision. She took a step forward and shot a deadly glare to the boy making it clear that if he harmed anyone of those around her, he would regret it a thousand times over. | Name: Yuriha
Age: It's a secret, teehee!
Gender: Female
Height: Cute, don't you think?
Weight: Don't ask that, baka!
Race: Half human/youkai (nine tailed fox) hybrid
Rank: Reincarnated low class devil
Appearance:
Personality: To be revealed in character.
Evil piece: Paw, worthy of 4.
Categorized: None yet
Normal Powers: All normal devil powers, plus kitsune powers which include the ability to generate and control extremely hot flames known as 'Fox Fire', enhanced physical abilities and senses, and shape shifting, though her forms are limited to a young and an adult version of herself, as well as a fox form which she rarely uses.
Magical Energy and Powers: Yuriha has a vast amount of magic power, given that she's a half-breed of the strongest youkai race, as well as a holder of a draconian Sacred Gear. Given her natural affinity to fire, Yuriha already mastered many spells of this element as well as some other times of general use magic.
Sacred Gear:
Location: Arm | Type: Wearable (Bracelet)
-Lore: The Void Gear is the manifestation of the soul of an unnamed dragon that was said to have achieved power equivalent to that of a Dragon King a long time ago. He was sealed in the gear, just like most of its kin, when the dragons destructive rampages threatened the very existence of the world. From that time on the Void Gear has appeared on many places and been held by many hands, almost always causing disaster and leaving a trail of destruction in its wake when its users invariably went berserk and destroyed everything on sight, until they were either killed by someone, or consumed by the gear's very own power.
-Powers: The user of the Void Gear can use it to absorb magic effects in a limited range, while this feature in use the gem at the bracelet's center turns pitch black and the user can't move. Once enough energy has been absorbed, some of the runes around the gem will begin to shine, signaling that the bracelet has 'charge' that can be spent to empower the user's next spell or attack. Only four charges can be held at a time, and they can only be spent all at one time, resetting the counter after each release.
-Revelations: None yet
-Balance breaker: None yet
-Sub Species: None yet
Bio: To be revealed in character.
Equipment: N/A.
Others: N/A. |
3,697 | 84 | 24 | 686 | 2,548 | As Zeke spoke, Sonitus kept glancing back at the girl who's hand still rested on her sword. He likely would keep an eye on her until she no longer remained a threat. Speaking of threats, the new information changed the situation drastically. He did die, and according to the leader of this little group, was now a 'devil'. He was less concerned about being devil than being considered a part of a family. Families were weakness, they held you responsible as a member, and he was very reluctant to consider these total strangers 'family'.
He had to repress the urge to make a move as the one called Moena moved to turn off the lights. While he was expecting some kind of surprise attack using the dark, but that didn't happen. Instead, it was as if the lights hadn't been turned off at all. The credibility of Zeke's story instantly grew.
As the devil leader continued explaining, he found himself amused at their naivety. Zeke was giving him way to much maneuvering room, and he would be sure to exploit that to it's fullest later on. However, thoughts of never returning left his head after hearing there were other entities that would hunt him. While he didn't have any concrete evidence for this, it was a possibility he didn't wish to bet on.
"What aid do you need?" Why would one as strong as Zeke made himself out to be, need assistance from him. Earlier the leader of this group had indicated that he was more than strong enough to take him. If that was so, then why was he needed? He simply didn't get the point of working in a team, it made much more sense to go it alone. There you didn't have to worry about teammates, or group strategy. The only time teamwork was involved with him was to be a meat shield, or a distraction. | Sexy as f**k |
3,698 | 84 | 25 | 686 | 2,548 | Zeke narrowed his eyes as he became serious.
"Rating games" was all he said.
Moena took this chance to turn the lights back on.
After she returned to her original position besides her master Zeke continued.
"In the devil world there are battles between the groups, these are called rating games and the winners of these games can gain massive power, even a groups King's peerage, meaning all of you, save for Orin as he is visiting us currently, you can grow in rank and power and eventually even gain a chance for your own peerage so regardless of your wishes you too will benefit from it and that is where I wish your aid, I have an Important aim to complete and to do so I need to rise beyond the basics high class ranks, I need to be high enough that the counsel CANNOT!" Anger filled his voice "Disregard me" his voice this time was softer and he forced himself to calm down.
Silence filled the room at that point, Zeke just sat in his chair with his eyes closed so Moena decided to continue from there on.
"After tomorrow we are all going to the mountains in Japan for a training session as our first game is coming up, perhaps you wish to join that as well, at least you would be save from the other fractions and get the chance to get stronger as well" | Sexy as f**k |
3,699 | 84 | 26 | 617 | 585 | Marcus could help but stay silence for a minute as his hand begin to shake. "Let me get this straight, I had died back in the forest but your resurrect me but in doing so I was bought into a feud between three different species." he asked sounding quite calm,almost like he didn't exactly mind. "Don't get me wrong but i'm glad to be alive, and i wish to personal think you for saving for saving me." He told Zeke with a fake smile. "However, i wish to know one thing." he told him before calmly moving to his seat and sitting down. "Who kill me." He asked with a cold blooded stare; his hand held the arm rest of the seat tightly. It was oblivious at that point that he was some what pissed at his murder. | Name: Marcus Wilson
Age: 16
Gender: Male
race: Devil(Former human)
Rank: Lower Class Devil
Appearance note: Has the height of a 13-14 year old boy.
personality: Marcus is known to be hot-blooded and short tempered, he is known to beat up people who abuse others with the usual exception of those with higher social authority then him. It is cause of this that he is label has a juvenile delinquent by his most of his peers. However those who could actually hang out with him would know that he actually a kind person who can't stand to see other people get bullied.
Evil piece: Knight
Categorized: none yet
normal powers: all basic devil powers you can find at Zeke
magical energy and powers: Unknown
Secret Gear: The Phantom Blade: a Elven long sword with a green tranparent blade the can be summon from inside the user body(and soul). This blade will phase through thing with the exception of the last thing that user Verbally commends it to cut.
-Balance breaker: None right now
-sub species: Matter Cutter: The blade turn into a katana take on a sharper appearance and gains abnormally strong cutting abilities, Allowing it to cut through solid object with more ease then he could normal do with a different sword
equipment:None
bio/ history: Marcus is a teenager of British/Japaneses Deceit, been and raise in a positive environment in japan until six year old, one late night his father was walking home from work when he was killed by a spray bullet during a gunfight between two rival gang members. After which his mother and him was forced to live on the bad part of town; on top of which he was constantly bullied cause of his hair color and inheritance. This had jump start his cycle of violence as he was forced to teach himself how to fight in order to get the other students to back off.
At the age of 10 his mother was finally able to take him out of that neighborhood and transfer him to another school. However he still chose to get in unnecessary fights with the other students: usually with the ones are those who make fun of his looks and as time when by he start focusing on bullies who target other. This got him sent to the principal's office multiple time and landed him in juvenile court at least twice. Though he was acquitted the first time, he was put place in juvenile detention for putting another student in the hospital. Since then Marcus had only been in a fights when it couldn't be avoid. When he started high school his mother had enroll him in-Insert the name of the academy here- thinking that it would help keep him out of trouble, during his freshman year he only got in trouble once for his violences.
During the roleplay Marcus will take a shortcut to his house where he would either be kill directed by Zeke enemies or will be killed in the crossfire between one of Zeke's group and his enemies.
others: Marcus favorite hobby is cooking. |
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