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8,400 | 229 | 2 | 1,789 | 2,689 | The Plague Terminator, Lord Ligarius was the next to respond, his voice heavily distorted and disturbing from the ravages of the diseases festering inside him. His voice was deep, yet menacing, and his wounds festered. Blood poured from various orifices, as did pus and other instruments of the Plague Lord. It took barely a glance to recognize whom he sided with; as he was firmly, and devoutly a follower of Nurgle. In his six centuries however, six centuries of wars, petty squabbles, and service furthering Grandfather Nurgle's cause, he had never met the Dark Apostle, nor had he ever set foot in the ship he now stood on. Having heard of tales about the Chaplain Erebus, he was at once honored to meet such an early follower of Chaos itself.
However, just because he was honored, did not mean he bowed prostrate or even acknowledged the Dark Apostle, save for a reverent tilt of his head. When the man finished speaking, he turned his head to the Great Unclean Ones who always guided him, always appeared to him, even if the others never saw them;He turned and spoke to them. "Great Unclean Ones, you have heard the Chaplain Erebus speak. I would heed your advice, if you give it."
"Follow him. Serve the Cause of Nurgle, and rip out the False Emperor's heart!" Grimegal was the first to speak, the most enthusiastic of the three.
"Mmm, if it fits the cause, why not serve?" Bleaz, the second spoke, always the more apathetic of the bunch.
"Rip the head off of the False Emperor, and claim it in the name of Grandfather Nurgle! Spread virulent disease across holy Terra and make the people cry out to the Grandfather for salvation only HE can provide!" Zaeleaz said, the most violent of the three, and the one to hold the most sway over the Plague Terminator. Their piece said, their voices faded into the background, and the Plague Terminator raised his head and raised his mace above his head. When he spoke, his deep voice boomed off of the walls, resounding with a kind of devotion only found within the forces of the Plague God.
"Dark Chaplain Erebus! We, the Forces of the Plague God, will carve straight to holy Terra, and rip the head from the body, spreading disease to a dying empire. It will be done." | Name: Kallax The Divided
Age: 3,231 years old
Gender: Male
Race: Chaos Blessed Human
Height: 17 feet
Weight: 7 tons
Appearance: Kallax's body is...chaotic to say the least, no pun intended. When he ventures into realspace sections of his body take attributes from the four gods of chaos.
Head: Corrupted by Grandfather Nurgle, a large horn pushes through the remnants of his helmet as pus, mucus, and blood leaks from his empty sockets. Occasionally a long, diseased tongue will slither out of a hole where a mouth should be.
Left arm: Bronze armor stained with ash and blood. Fairly normal save for the hand which has grown larger, red, and clawed.
Right Arm: "Enhanced" by the prince of pleasure. The arm ends in a large pincer that, when opened, unleashes a mass of tentacles that dance with electric energy.
Torso: A single large eye in the center of his chest, always darting about wildly until Kallax has something to focus on. His back is dominated by a large pair of wings, always changing from bloody and burning, perfect and feathery, plague ridden and foul, or confusing and bright.
Legs: Powerful and sturdy, ending in taloned feet not unlike the Raptors under his command.
Equipment: Daemon Sword, Daemonic hide.
Powers:
- Right Arm of Kallax: Beyond being a mass of barbed tentacles and a pincher to boot the arm can release a cone of energy that lights the nerves of those in front it alight, causing the most exquisite agony a mortal can feel. The lucky ones die quickly. (Acts as a heavy flamer)
- Eye of Kallax: The great eye in the center of his chest allows Kallax to periodically release either a long range laser, cutting through armor like butter or a shorter range bolt of pure plasma. (Lascannon-meltagun, promise not to abuse)
- Wings: Farily simple, allows Kallax to fly into the heat of battle and land atop his targets.
Rank Among Chaos: Daemon Prince
Bio: Kallax's was never a truly remarkable being, always over looked by people who were slightly better or more capable. However what most people never thought was that the dog they never paid attention to would have the biggest bite. It all started with one system, four hive worlds and an industrial planet. It was here,the Chelladren system, he would gain ascension.
Now take in mind that this isn't the first time Kallax had conquered a planet, this would just be the first he attempted something on this scale. Kallax started by implanting four cells of cultists in each planet, one for each god of chaos. In unison they began to stoke the flames of hatred, hedonism, disease, and trickery in all of the hive worlds until eventually each fell to chaos. The people who resisted were exterminated if they were lucky, the unlucky ones were used as sacrifices or for the whims of Slaaneshi cultists. Inevitably however, the fun had to end and the Inquisition came.
Unfortunately it was help that came far too late, while the hive words fell to chaos Kallax himself had been creating shrines along the fifth planet and turned it into a great conduit. In one moment 500 psykers were sacrificed upon the very alters they created, causing a great psykic backlash that rippled throughout the system and activating the shrines purpose of tearing the very souls out of the inhabitants bodies. Kallax dedicated the whole ordeal to Chaos itself, in the process gaining ascension. The last the Inquisition saw of the Challedran system was it being pulled into the warp.
Aligned: Undivided
Retinue: 5 obliterators, 18 Slaaneshi Warp Talons, 16 Khornate Berserkers, 12 Plague Marines, 12 Noise Marines, 4 Chaos Sorcerers, 250 Undivided Marines, 4,000 Chaos Cultists divided equally between the 4 Gods. |
8,401 | 229 | 3 | 1,647 | 332 | Captain Axe sat sharpening his skinning knife, it had been a few days since he had cleaned a skull for Khorne, and spilled blood in his name. The act of sharpening his knife was almost a religious experience for it was the tool used to please his god. As he slid the whetstone across the blade he felt an odd feeling in the pit of stomach. That old familiar pull he received as he was drawn to another place to shed blood and harvest skulls once more.
Standing in the back of the room he listened to the large, bald man run his mouth. The details didn't matter to Axe, all he cared for was getting back into battle once more. His interest was piqued finally when the man said that they were there to cut a bloody swath to holy Terra. Finally a battle to fight once more. He drew his knife and kissed the blade, pledging once more to spill blood for Khorne and gather skulls to decorate his throne. | Name: Captain Axe
Age: 950
Gender: Male
Race: Space Marine - Khornate Berzerker
Height: 6'7
Weight: 250
Appearance:
Equipment: 2 Chain Axes
Powers: (Explain what they do in RP do not be to overpowered though. )
Rank Among Chaos: Champion
Bio:
Blood shed, It was all Axe had known for centuries. He couldn't recall anything from before the experiment called later Butcher's Nails. He became a killing machine. His intensity and ferocity was unmatched on the battlefield. His preferred weapons were a pair of chain axes that cut through most armor types nicely.
Over the years he honed his skills and rage into a weapon itself, most of the Butchers he fought beside would lose control and just kill everything around, including fellow squad mates at times. Axe was different, he learned to have a small semblance of control over his rage, which earned him the rank of captain. He led his butchers through many battles learning more with each victory and defeat.
Captain Axe began to desire blood shed more and more but this was different than the usual rage. He found himself delighting in removing heads from his opponents. When he slept it was all he dreamed about, when he was awake it was all he imagined. The desire grew and grew until Khorne appeared in a dream and told him he was chosen to join the hordes of Chaos.
After that dream and the betrayal Axe quickly earned his position as a champion of Khorne, taking pride in shedding blood and retrieving skulls for his god's throne.
Axe was one of the few berserkers that wore no armor, he didn't like the way it slowed him down in battle. When it came to a fight he wanted to be the first one in and last one out. His choice has led him into some difficult situations especially against long range weapons. To make up for this weakness in battle he has acquired a group of rampagers with jump packs to "jump" into the fray while he and his berserkers cut their own way in.
Aligned: Khorne
Retinue: 50 Berserkers 200 Chaos Marines 30 Rampagers |
8,402 | 229 | 4 | 1,730 | 1,161 | In the midst of the chaos on board this and every other vessel in the fleet, from gabbering sorcerers who mumbled incoheriently to themselves and shouted questionable statements at any who wandered too close, to the cowering and ravenous mutants who scrounged for food and really anything on board. And were not above killing or eating their fellows if their mood called for it. To large Chaos marines that thundered through the aged and creaking halls. Dispassionatly killing those who stood in their way.
And yet in an odd display, for chaos worshippers especially was a large company of men. Each one wearing matching uniforms and helmets. Standing with ramrod straight postures and in drill perfect lines and columns in perfect silence. Any muttering or unsightly movements and twitches were long since beaten out of them by the corprals and sergeants who already walked down the ranks and dealt blows and slaps to them men in preperation for this announcement. Their boots were polished to a sheen and their rifles were well kept and carefully cleaned. Another stark contrat to the writhing masses that worrounded them.
They stood out as possibly the only show of discipline and proper order in a sea of disharmony. And at the head of this odd little display was the masked figure of major Varl. His smooth and featureless face ebtrayed nothing of what he may have thought about the boldness of the dark apostle's statement. Or the claims he was making. He found that he was not as prone to mood swings and following the illusions of emotion as many followers of chaos seemed to be. He may not be in the imperial military anymore but he still valued their insistance on thinking tactically and making a strike only when you knew you either had all the cards in your favour or taking the chance was worth the risk. And right now he was debating how this little crusade would end. After twelve attempts all made by the same commanders one would think they would shift tactics and try to compensate for their obvious shortcomings. One would think anyway.....
While he was happy to lead his men into combat and victory he was less enthusiastic about leading them straight to their doom. And one of the few things he learned after turning to chaos was that most of their commanders didn't always think in the grande scheme of things. They became overly focused on a single goal and outcome to the point where they all but dismissed thoughts and suggestions that it could not be achieved. And if ten thousand years of history and wars against the Emperor were to say anything it was that these plans never suceeded.... ever. Most cultists and even chaos marines only thought about their next kill, their next sexcapade or injection of some foreign substance. They rarely planned for the long term. And in the case of Tzeentchians they planned too far into the long term. All but dismissing any short term complications that often arose that threw their careful planning into immediate disarray.
And then there was the back stabbing.... As an imperial soldier he always wondered why the arch-enemy fought amongst themselves so often. Entire battles and wars were won because Massed imperial columsn smashed straight into quarraling enemy forces as infighting ran rampant. And after joining them and fighting alongside them for the last sixty plus years he still didn't have an answer to that question. Often they were petty disagreements or worse, over no cause at all other than the servants of one god really dislike the servants of another. Or simply boredom. Hell he didn't even declare any extreme loyalties that would give cause for others to label him as an enemy but still he had at least a score of assassination attempts made against him in the last two years alone! And the Bribes!.... oh dark gods below the bribes politics and bribery. As it turned out well equipped companies of trained and disciplined soldiers were in high demand and frighteningly short supply. And many minor and major lords have already made bids for his loyalty or at least support. Offering him all manner of gifts and lies in the hopes of securing his support and arms if they made a coup or move against a rival. He suspected at least a few to try and usurp his position in some way and try to assume command over his men. He would need to be extra watchful while he was on board this ship of both his men and his enemies.
But he would remain resolute and independant for as long as he could. A difficult task but one he was determined to suceed in. But for the immediate future he would need to make sure that his men were prepared and trained to add yet another battle honour to the hallowed standard and name of the marauders. And not sacrificed or cast aside for the over ambitious zeal of some insane chaos lord looking to rise beyond his station. | Name: Major Varl
Age: 75
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Height: 5'11”
Weight: 180lbs
Appearance: (Images (no anime) or written. Written needs to be AT LEAST two hundred words. )
Equipment: Varl himself wears the same uniform from his days in the Imperial guard. Instead of the simple black trenchcoat like his men he dresses more akin to a regimental commisar. Thick black leather coat with a deep crimson trim around the cuffs, collar and all hems and edges to give him a suitably sinister appearance. Even a peaked officers cap with the sam crimson trim on the brim but instead of an aquila he has the symbol of his prized regiment.
Some extra bulk is added to his frame because of the masterwork, reinforced carapiece suit worn underneath this coat afford him a great degree of protection and mobility. In lieu of the usual 'one eyed' helmet worn by his men he usually wears a blank faceless mask. This mask is strong, durable and armoured enough to absorb aside a las-pistol blast with nothing more than a scorch mark. Which only serves to make the faceless and expressionless mask look as if it is sneering in rage in response to such an offence.
He is also known to wear a variety of other masks. All faceless and all reinforced but with various designs. Some simply different colours and others depict snarling deamonic and beastial maws and faces. Others still can have strangely beautiful or terrible scenes and images engraved on them/ Some simple, others mind boggling in their purpose and why such a man know for his ruthlessness would bother with. And others of breathtaking detail in honour of worthy enemies, fierce battles and accolades won by him men and command. Almost as if this is his incredibly odd collection. He will never show his face publicly if possible and none of his men speak of his decision or answer any questions about his appearance to outsiders.
For melee weapons he wields a curious piece. Much like lightning claws commonly seen on the wrists of champions of both chaos and the Imperium Varl's gauntlet. Each finger is taloned in exquisitly wrought and engraved metal. With a smaller blade on each knuckle to make the piece seem even more deadly and odd. The actual glove part that fits snugly over his arm is made of the leathered hide of a chaos fury. The same fury who's essence and soul live in the very blade.
The kind of work that would only be found or attempted within the broken reality of the warp. Though these finger tips are deadly in their own right they themeselves are not the chief danger of the weapon.
Five blades make up the claw. Each one long, wide faced and stiletto thin. They curve wickedly to extract the most pain and spill the most blood of it's victim. The outer most edges of four such blades are razor sharp and seem to keep an unearthly strong edge to themselves. Despite the thinness of the blades they puncture armour with laughable ease and can parry the blows of power weapons and other artifacts. The inner edges are serrated and barbed to cause the most pain and hemoragging possible as they are pulled out of the victims body. The outer edges of these blades are also visable (and touchable) all down the back hand and wrist of the wearer. The two center blades are the longest, straightest and most deadly while the two on the outer edges are shorter, more curved and talon shaped and also extend on slight obtuse angles.
The fifth blade is far more unique and less less of a blade and more of a thin metal spike that at first glances serves no purpose or function other than to inconvenience it's wearer. This is partly true as this spike actually is meant ot pierce into the users fore-arm as they wield it. Letting the real strength and fury of the deamon trapped within lend itself to it's master. This can and has easily overwhelmed some people and turned them into mindless savages void of anything more complex than the most base primal instincts and needs. Much like the nature of Furies themselves. But also like furies to one who is strong of mind or maybe just dam stubborn enough they can hold back and stem the overwhelming tide of rage and influence from the deamon, for a time at least. And those with truly driven and disciplined minds like varl. Or maybe even just those the gods feel like gifting can find themselves usurping the daemon. To overpower it instead and tame it for his will. Only taking and allowing what power he wants it to. And a fact known only to it's owner or to the odd man fortunate or mis fortunate enough to be close to the weapon to inspect it would notice that these blades, Esepcially the fifth backward facing one almost seem to retract and extend at times. Varl can certainly feel it burrow deeper into his forarm when he calls upon the strength of the daemon and those who get stabbed can almost feel the blades themselves curve just that much more like fingers tightening on their prize.
For ranged warfare he prefers his tried and trusted laspistol. It has been with him his entire career and it;s rugged reliability and versatility saved his hide far more times than he hs cared to admit. Even though he could have long since passed it up for a fanicer hell pistol or hotshot variant or even a bolt pistol he does not want to abandon something that has served him so well in his life. And the machine spirit within it, despite everything the Imperium taught him did not cease to function or boject to his new 'career choice'. If anything it seems to serve him with even more vigor and zeal nearly fifty years later.
Laspistol -
Mask -
Fingers of his gauntlet -
Regimental decal -
Powers:
Disciplined mind- Whether by training, Imperial indoctrination, birth or what have you. Varl has an incredibly stubborn and strong mind which helps his resist many things that would render most mortal men gibbering and broken mentally. From the Constant barrage of deamonic influences that is a life serving chaos to the direct mental and phsycial link he possesses with the deamon in his blade to simply resisting unwanted psykic intrusions he is able trough sheer stubborn tenacity and disciplined will to wall off his mind. Instead of simply pushing back on an invading presence like most would he focuses on defending against it. Playing out the invasion of his mind as just another battle field to manipulate. Moves and counter moves that happen smoothly and in the blink of an eye that has left more than one sorcerer and would be invader quickly routed and pushed back before they realized what was happening.
His mental fortitude is equivilant to that of the most stubborn of army chaplains and even rivalling the level of an astartes.
Commanding presence/Booming voice- helping to keep with his personal beliefs and standards for his men and their performance Varl has what can best be described as a commanding personality. Which only seems to have been amplified beyond the norm since his turn to chaos. The gods gifting him with several things one of which is a deep booming voice that drips with authority and power. The kind of voice that demands obedience and always receives.
Between the added supernatural weight to his presence and the almost irresistable nature of his tone and commands that have compelled even enemies at times to obey his orders almost as if on reaction. Though weak minded individuals are often needed for this. Some civilians or guardsman have actually opened fire and attacked their fellows after Varl roared a charge and before they realized what was happening had their comrades blood flowing over their hands and the commisars bolt pistol blowing out their brains.
Overall he has just a being of incredible confidence and authority. Which could very well explain some of the fervent and unquestioning loyatly of the men he commands.
Loyalty – not so much a power but the unshakable and unflinching loyalty and obedience of his men is definatly a boon. They seem withdrawn to others. Unlike most cultists will keep to themselves, not inteact, are not prone to outbursts of emotion or violence. And will carry out their orders to the letter and without fail or die in the attempt. Any questions about their leaders and tactics or even state of readiness is met with stony silence and they are not unknown to kill those who persist in such lines of questioning.
They are fervent enough to the point where they will gladly and immediatly carry out any assignment or mission Varl commands them to regardless of how one sided the odds may be. Even assignments that have been doomed to be one sided trips have been accepted with a nod and salute and most importantly. No regrets or hesitation.
While they are fiercly loyal to all of their officers and their unit as a whole they have a reverence and deciation to Varl such that if he were to simply hand one a blade and order him to die they would probably do so.
Rank Among Chaos: 'Champion' leader of what would probably be called a minor warband.
Bio: Varl Started his career as all renegades do. In the service of the Emperor. As an officer of the 903rd Cornithian infantry regiment. Nicknamed the Marauders for their agressive and effective tactics. A proud regiment with a proud tradition of service stretching back centuries. Being selected from the imperial academy to serve within it;s ranks was an honour. It was easily one of the more desirable posts amongst the young and aspiring generals to be as all officers are at that age. Plenty of combat, bloodshed, glory and honour and all of that. And he got exactly what he wanted.
It was everything an aspiring glory hound could want. And he can still recall how his breast swelled with pride each time a new battle honour was sewn into the regimental standard. And the satisfaction he received from putting down the enemies of the emperor. Their disguting mutated hides and pathetic lives being put to the sword.
As he got older and his promotions came through and he was moved up the chain of command his mood and demeanour changed. Not uncommon in the army to have youthful arrogance and pride replaced by reality. Eager men became grizzled and determined and so forth. And while his mood changed he did still relish the fight. Just in a different way. The glee of a simple kill was repalced by the immense pride and satisfaction of outmaneuvring ones opponents. Crushing them completely and utterly under ones heel with iron discipline and tactics. And that same satisfaction came from any foe whether it be heretic, xeno, or just rebellious citizens. Over time and as his career dragged on victory alone started to mean more than victory for the emperor. He still identified as loyal to the Imperium as any man would. But his faith was placed more in his comrades and men under his command. Than the hope of theological assistance that experience taught him would almsot never come.
That and the imperium's uncaring and inability at times to provide the support and proper supplies needed for a regiment to survive. With lesser regiments he might understand their low priority. But the Marauders were anything but a trivial batch of whitesheilds. They were hardened men. And effective fighting force many times over. But the Imperium didn't give a shit. It never did and he supposed he knew all along it never really would.
This theory was proven without a doubt as his regiment was deployed into a literal meatgrinder of a warzone. The archenemy was entrenched deep into it;s soil and was putting up a damed good defence of it too. For weeks they held a strategically worthless position with minimal support and almost no word from command. They lost hundreds of their men during those weeks only to be told their deployment there was the resault of some generals mistake in the war room. The entire venture was pointless and a waste of lives and resources. And without so much as a day to catch their breath they were marching forward yet again.
The rest of the campaign on that world farred little better. And Varl noticed changes in some of the men. Open wounds became infected more easily and with things far more horrifying than simple gangrene. Men muttering to themselves or to no one in particular. Small things that gave the comissars a field day. There were days when more were executed on suspicion of mutation and corruption than were actually killed off by injury or enemy harassment.
It was during these invasions that he came across the mask he has now become known for wearing. People who see him wearing it may like to think it had some deep story behind it's discovery. That it was forged in the warp or that his face was so disfigured and scarred from some previous battle that he takes to wearing it out of anguish and shame to hide his disfigurement. And Varl does not actively try to dispell or spread any such rumors about his refusal to show his face. Mostly because he doesn't actually care what people think. He knows that some of those rumors only serve to cement and inflate his budding reputation. Some may think there is power in the mask that gives him such command over his men. Assassination and teft attempts have been made for it in the past. Even his subordinate officers have at times fallen to such thoughts and actions only to be executed shortly into their plans.
In truth he wears it for a far more personal and sober reason.
He origionally found the mask during some cleaning out of the enemy. Even today he could not remember the exact location or building where he found the peice have buried in soil and ash. He more saw it as a curiosity. And at the time he wasn;t willing to say outloud whether or not it was an Imperial possession or one created by the chaos horde. And even today it is a detail he is not entirely certain about. But he for wahtever reason was loathe to part with it. He found himself starring at it more and more as the war dragged on. Not out of admiration for craftsmanship or aesetitically pleasing style. More because he found himself relating to it for and more every day.
Every day that war dragged on and the incompotence that was the imperial command continued throwing men at worthless or far to strong positions the more he started to feel faceless. Like he was just a faceless cypher of war. And that even a proud and loyal man like him, in a proud and loyal regiment with centuries of honourable service could just the thrown aside and beaten down and forgotton at the stroke of a pen. He even took to wearing the piece as a form of silent protest that his men surprisingly didn;t question and even seemed to understand.
But it wasn't until much later during the final crack downs on the few enemy strongholds left (a process that took some years to reach) that Varl was truly pushed over the edge. After years of fighting on that blighted little shit of a planet Varl was fast becoming fed up with the Imperial method. The superior ranks were staggeringly incompotent. A victory that taken years should only have taken one at most with a proper strategist at the helm. The supply lines were a mess, reinforcements almost never came which only put extra stress on the regiments involved as they barely were able to make proper front line rotations.
But his turn to chaos was oddly enough not the resault of chaos deamons whispering into his ear promising power and glory but really is was the final blow to his pride that really pushed him to turn his back on the Imperium. Before the final assaults, there was a lull. One welcomed by many to re-organize and re-equipp for the bloody battle that was sure to follow in the coming days. The army underwent a customary period of reconstruction as well. Those regiments that were due reinforcements received them. And others that were battered and bloody and little more than a few companies were organized into temporary 'detachment' regiments. A common enough practice to combine many small forces into a single larger unit until their own reinforcements arrived.
A more uncommon practice is to wipe some regiments entirely and merge them with other nearly full strength regiments to buff their numbers. That was supposed to be the scheduled fate of the vaunted Marauders. To be simply wiped from the annels of history, their banners sent back to the homeworld in shame and their deeds only to be remembered by memory. And why? Because the esteemed generals in charge of the bum fuck that was this invasion wanted the spotlight of the victory to go to the regiments of their world. And the easiest way to give that spotlight and ensure they had the men and means to do this was by merging regiments. Most regiments went meekly enough but the remnants of the marauders were enraged. By this point nearly all of the command staff save Varl himself were already dead which left him defacto in charge of the regiment. And he fought this injustice tooth and nail to the point of insubordination.
This wasn;t a spit in the face to him as an imperial but to him as a soldier. To his unit that he grew to rely and appreciate more than the imperium itself. It was then he heard the small voices in his head telling him to wait and bide his time. That he would have a chance to strike out against this injustice and ensure his men and their name would live on.
His first loyatly was to regiment and it;s pride. And when the arch-enemy launched their sudden counter attack. Backed by a massive incoming fleet that dropped right out of warp to surprise and catch the agressor imperial army off guard Varl rallied what men of his that shared his sense of loyatly to themselves and their unit and killed those who resisted. In short he defected. Not because of riches or power but because of pride and honour. And that thought of losing all of that, not at the end of a sword as would be an easier fate for a proud soldier to swallow but neutered by the pen and politics. was too grevious of an insult to bear.
When the arch-enemies surprise counter attack was launched Varl took advantage of the confusion. A massive fleet appeared in orbit and took the navy off guard and a sudden surge of reinforcements, some of which daemonic through weeks of careful planning into dissarray. Rounding what loyal men he had he cut his way out of both the Imperial and heretic lines. To him the most important thing ws keeping his regiment.... his name alive. The Marauders would live on and continue to earn their battle honours with or without the imperium at their backs.
Still more to be written.
Aligned: unaligned
Retinue: ~500 soldiers, Split into two main companies of two hundred and a third that maintains it;s support weapons/vehicles and other axuleries. As well as houses the platoons Grenadier elite under his direct command. Their supply of Light carapiece armour they can afford/scrounge are meticulously kept and used to arm the 50+ storm trooper elites. Any hellguns the company has also go to these men. Making sure at least all fire teams see at least one such weapon. Grenade launchers are also common support weapons in these fireteams.
The auxilaries would be whatever servitors, mechanically minded laymen, hereteks, Even a sorcerer or two that they can afford and/or enslave to their cause.
Most troopers are armed with basics that any imperial gaurdsman would see. Flak vest, helmet, uniform. Though the marauders are unique in marching into battle in trenchcoats and a helm designed by the major and special crafted at his request from what forges they could afford. These helms are a much a symbol to pick out one another as they are to their enemies. Faceless and simple, devoid of carvings and personal touches one would normally find in military units. So that each looks as cold and impersonal and identical as the man beside them.
Standard issue and quality lasguns and carbines, A handful of grenades a piece. A long las or grenade launcher per squad if possible.
Most heavy weapons are simple and reliable pieces. Nothing that is too complex and would need a an arch-heretek to fix. As well as being relatively cheap to purchase, maintain and supply with munitions. Mostly heavy stubbers. |
8,403 | 229 | 5 | 1,751 | 68 | Everybody on the ship took in the sight of the passing orks as if they were looking at a illusion or a mirage, this was the first time they had been released by Khorne and they were raring for a fight, but none stepped forward giving the orks a wide berth as if they were one of Nurgles own, the fact that orks following a chaos god was rare enough was just enough for them to be given that room but the sheer fact they were orks caused them to be avoided that much more. The orks walked into the room just as the conversation was dying they strode into the middle of the rooming regarding everyone around them.
Then the biggest one spoke. "Gess Who? And if anyne is takin eads round ere eets us! Raaagh" The leader spoke and the two nobz that stood with him echoed his growl. The big one raised his hands and the nobz quieted down to a whimper as if afraid of the big ork. "We is going to take more eads becausz orks ar teh bestest!" The leader shouted, taking in everyone in the room the nobz echoing his "We ar teh bestest." Statement, but then a fist from the leader knocked one of the nobs to the ground effectively shutting them up. "And nun of you humies best git in deh way. WAAAAAGH" The Ork shouted and he let the nobz join him this time in his shout filling the ship with the sound of their warcry. | Name: Lord Ligarius, the Diseased.
Age: 600
Gender: Male
Race: Chaos Space Marine
Height:7’2”(12’6” in armor
Weight: 365 (3000 in armor)
Equipment: Terminator Armor,Power Maul blessed by Nurgle to constantly ooze pus and rust armour that it hits, stab the butt of it into flesh or the soil and corruption follows.
Powers: Blessing of Nurgle: As a Plague Lord, Ravager is immune to pain and disease, and is arguably one of the toughest beings to kill, not counting his legions of Plague brothers.. He can spread his diseases through his pus and blood
Nurgle’s Rot: A fog of disease that follows the wielder around.
Disturbing Voice and Intimidation
Rank Among Chaos: Plague Lord
Bio: A former Space Marine, and former follower of the chapter of the Death Spectres, he was a skilled melee warrior priding himself on his sheer strength. Unfortunately, his strength failed him one day, as he and his men were overcome on a mission gone horribly, horribly wrong. As his men around him died, and he himself was mortally wounded. At first, he felt as if he was dying, and indeed he was-his injuries had gone septic, and his life was now agonizing pain. In this time of pain, he was visited by dreams and whispers of a Great Unclean One, persuading him to give his soul to Grandfather Nurgle. For a day and a half, his world was nothing but pain and disease and dreams and whispers, until finally, he gave his soul, and in return, his soul was branded with allegiance to Nurgle.
Now a Plague Marine, and aspiring champion, he worked towards gaining Terminator armor, so as better to suit his newfound purpose spreading the entropy and decay that Nurgle bestows upon and blesses humanity with. However, obtaining this armor within the treacherous territory would not be easy, even if he was now a dedicated servant of the Plague Lord, immune to pain. As it stood, however, he needed to find a set. Yet there were still more obstacles in his way; he and his former crew-now just a handful of Plague Marines-still had to find their way off world, and so they set out, travelling to the nearest inhabited city, infecting it in a matter of days before killing any remaining resistance and taking a ship in search of Terminator armor.
This did not take long, as the voice of the Great Unclean One led him across the vast, endless sea of space , through dozens of enemies, to a warband led by a Champion decked in Terminator Armor. The battle was fierce, and lasted longer than he expected it to, but in the end, as all things do, his enemy died;the cause was by his hands; regrettably the armor was damaged by the prolonged conflict, yet, after days of fighting, he won,and the armor was his. This was not a surprise as he heeded his master; thus, good things were bound to follow. Yet now, even as he was heavily armored. The weapons he had used up to this point served his purpose of spreading the corruption and rot of Grandfather Nurgle, but no longer. Now, he heeded the words of the Daemon once again, and sought out a Plague Mace, once used by a Champion of Nurgle, now lost in a desert world. Once again, he listened and was rewarded, forcing his own men to search or die.
They, however, were not as loyal to Nurgle and thus they died, as all things do, forcing him to not only find it himself, but bring the warband of a nearby cult of Nurgle under heel. For fifty years, he and his men wandered the desert, until finally they found the mace, hidden within the ruins of a starship. Finally having his Mace, he thought that the Lord of Decay would leave him to his own ambitions, but it seems the Grandfather has other ideas….
Aligned: Nurgle
Retinue: 20 Plague Marines of lesser ability, 40 Plaguebearers, and 6000 cultists |
8,404 | 229 | 6 | 37 | 1,038 | Ro'lithe moved out of the shadows, her long armor plated tail seemed to snake itself out of the wall as she glided elegantly forward, her bare hips swinging wide with each step as she passed the warrior named Captian Axe brushing her hand up his back side she let her purple eyes linger on his face as she passed him, the lust in her pupils made them glow a deep purple as she drug her gaze from his eyes. Leveling her large gold tipped horns she moved like liquid grace toward the group and to face Erebus, her body naked save for the meager gold plated bra and thong.
Stopping just short of the bald legend Ro'lithe bowed deeply letting her long tail spiral outwards behind her and her long horns brush the floor before she straightened herself "the Chaos lord of Slaanesh is happy to partake in the death of the emperor, we are happy to strike the final killing blow and do what we like with his limp corpse" Ro'lithe's voice echoed through the room loud and landed upon listening ears like a lovers caress. Holding her staff by her side she gave a large mischievous smile before stalking back behind the group of gathered warriors. | Name: Ro'lithe Slaavex
Age: 103
Gender: Hermaphrodite
Race: Human
Height: 6'1
Weight: 110
Equipment: Force Staff, Ro' wears gold plated armor over her breasts and a gold colored thong of sorts to cover his male and female genitalia, her two horns are gold armored as well as her spiney tail, knee high gold colored boots accompanied by elbow length gold armored gloves complete his attire.
Powers:
Doombolt- Bolts made of raw chaos energy are launched by the sorcerer against his enemies.
Warptime- The sorcerer alters the flow of time around himself, allowing for attacks with supernatural precision.
Wind of Chaos- The sorcerer calls forth the corruption from within his soul, unleashing a golden cloud of rapturous agony or a rain of hypnotic light.
Pavane of Slaanesh- The Psyker utters the forbidden dances of Slaanesh, forcing his opponents to jerk and spasm until their bones break.
Sensory Overload- The Psyker overloads the nervous and sensory systems of their enemies.
Siren- The sorcerer assumes the form of someone to whom the enemy, out of love or admiration, would never cause harm.
Beam of Slaanesh- The sorcerer unleashes a ray of rainbow colours that confuses and disorients the enemy.
Touch of Slaanesh- A delicate caress by the sorcerer renders his enemies insensible and unable to defend themselves.
She Who Thirsts- Having dealt a mortal blow to his enemy, the sorcerer rips out their very soul, causing fear in those around the unfortunate being.
Teleportation- Allows the sorcerer to teleport short distances.
Rank Among Chaos: Chaos Lord
Bio: Ro'lithe is from the twin moon Slaadux, the larger of the two moons that orbit the gas planet Disktrit, whereas Disktrit is uninhabitable both its moons are considered paradise, Slaadux is a sandy satellite with warm blue coastal waters and purple trees.
Slaadux is large in comparison to its twin Razaleft but both moons are incredibly small compared to the planet they orbit. Slaadux is inhabited by a large population of humans who look to Slaanesh as their god, they are best known for their sexual nature and are leaders in the gas trade.
Ro'lithe discovered her Psyker abilities and heavily endulged herself in the carnal nature of her powers, killing a large portion of the planet and its inhabitants, what was left of the Slaanesh followers quickly allied themselves with her and worshiped her for nearness to the god they so loved. Her and her followers began corrupting the twin moon Razaleft and its few human occupants.
Ro'lithe received attention from Slaanesh as he blessed her with a second gender, horns and a tale, moving her followers into an even deeper state of cultish carnage, Ro' releashed the Warp once more across her planet and its neighbor causing another wave of death and destruction and spurring the remainder of the population into a cultish frenzy, Ro' continued to build their loyalty until he was called to the crusade.
Aligned: Slaanesh
Retinue: Ro's cultist numbers on both twin moons center around four thousand, they were able to find and recruit five hundred psykers. The moons have |
8,405 | 230 | 0 | 1,476 | 371 | Place: Hall of Remembrance, Hunter's Guild.
The air shifted sharply as the door let in cool breeze from the outside world, as it continued to open letting new faces be seen. Drovia had not seen a jump in population since the end of the great war, but word that the hunters guild had began recruiting openly again made new way for new comers to the great human capital. All races of Terecoth, now gathered in the hall in which it all started. A hash was issued over the large crowd. They were made up of all ages, some looking as though they had just finished grade school now to enlist in the Hunter militia. Rather large foot sets upset the silence as the hall door opened. The large metal and engraved door dragged on the ground and opened slowly. As the light from, the large windows broke the shadow of the man walking in, everyone peered to look at the new body in the room. Head-Master Ash stood tall and spoke in a deep dark voice that voided all other sounds. "Welcome New-Bloods" Ash gave a slight chuckle giving a little room for comfort. "My son Varioyn is going to be signing you. I will only say this once, come one by one up to the table and tell him your name and reason for being here today" He gave a quick glance around the room at all the faces, some strong, some frail, some looked as though he was a monster that needed to be hunted. "Many of you may not know who we are. Many of you do. We are the Hunters, Drovia's first army, Terecoth's finest men and women the titans have to offer. What we are NOT, is assassins, brutes, farmers. We are not here to murder or disrupt, we are here to help those in need." He gave another quick glance, to see if there was any change in facial expressions of the mass. "This is a life or death profession. Many here...." He looked back towards Varioyn and the veteran hunters "....Have lost friends, Family, ..Themselves." He pulled himself back. "There will be a test for both physical and mental capabilities, we need to know you are fit to be a hunter. These will begin tomorrow after the signing and introduction. Please feel free to say and look at the Hall of Remembrance after you have spoke to Varioyn" Ash nodded at the crowd and walked back into the room, closing the great metal door behind him.
Varioyn looked down at his pen and paper. "Alright, everyone line up. You heard the Head-Master" The line looked so long that it could stretch forever. Varioyn laid his cloak down. Might be a long night.. | Name: Varioyn Black
Age: 25
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Appearance: He stands at an above average human height of 6'2, he is lengthy and slimmer although has notable muscle from his life training to be a hunter. Although he is light hearted, he keeps a serious persona while on a hunt.
Backstory: Varioyn was born in Drovia into a softly wealthy family, they treated him well, although his mother was young, she could not support herself and a child, so reluctantly one night, as the moon shined blankly along the stone walls, he was given to the Hunters guild, and raised by a young man named Ash. Who would only a decade later become the Headmaster of the Guild. At a young age Varioyn was thought to be a natural at what the guild did, he killed his first dear at 7, his first bear at 10, by the time he was 14 he mastered the art of sword play and speed of the bow. Ash held him back from joining the ranks officially until his 14th birthday in fear that he would lose him to the hunt. As Ash loved Varioyn as his own blood, he was the only son that he ever had, and Ash was Varioyn's only parent. His past swept under what the present was. On his 14th birthday he officially was to become part of the ranks, and did what most low ranking hunters had, hunted food for local butcheries. He grew quickly Ash felt, and when he turned 21 he was promoted to a True Hunter. He resides in training new hunters and carrying out the A ranked hunts, the most dangerous.
Personality: Varioyn is kind, and forgiving until crossed or loved ones hurt, his guild is his family and he does not shy away from vengeance. He has a sense of humor and is normally favored over the other instructors.
Weapon skill/choice: Bow, dual long swords/ daggers
Notable ability: Increased senses, Great at tracking and stealth, a natural born hunter.
Other info: I keep things in CS shorter, because I like reviling things about the character through the narrative. |
8,406 | 230 | 1 | 2,764 | 11 | Amalay had steadily been working her way as close to the table as possible because of her impatience. She hated waiting in line, and whenever there were formalities, there was always a line. Upon everyone beginning to collect, a dodge here, a few steps there, and she was only about a dozen back from those fortunate enough to randomly choose to stand right at the origin of the line. The bows and announcements were largely human youths since we were, after all in the great city of humans, and none were more eager for their time to shine than the young.
Upon her turn, she showed all respect that was due, a flowing curtsy with crossed feet that was almost fluid. Memories of her mother teaching her her manners ran through her mind. “As though you are blown upon the wind, as though you are water trickling over the stones. Hands spiral in, and clasp at your heart. Not so fast, not so slow. Now bend at the knee and hip as though you are to fall asleep. And now remain, but not too long should the person feel themselves not important enough to deserve it.”
Strangely enough, should she show such formality to a merchant troop, not only would she be viewed as strange, they would all be horribly self conscious. She had been a very long time in coming to any sort of nobility.
“I am Amalay Du Lya, Somnant Knight of One Kill, the Dreamer of the Lya. I have come to join the hunters in order to destroy the world... and to elevate a greater one in its stead. A place where the shadow is driven farther than the most distant reaches of the abyss, and the talons of evil is scalded away by the goodness that flows from the people.”
What is in a name? Well, if one was versed in this olden time address, this was more than simply a noise that your family decided to use to clarify what they were talking about. This was a resume. Amalay Du Lya meant that she was from the village of Lya, a small and humble residence somewhere around Lothadid, like it’s greater dwelling, it too was hidden and thus meant very little to those unfamiliar with the forest and the ways of the elves.
Somnant Knight of One Kill, well, that meant she was a warrior that had seen real combat numerous times and was now considered a veteran... however, unlike a warrior in human terms, notching their weapons to keep track of the enemies they have slain, it was the opposite. Each kill was a blemish, since it meant that the conflict could not be resolved without bloodshed or killing. This was a way of the past now, Somnance was the magic of nature to transfigure opponents into harmless forms of life. While it gave a certain edge, and let the Elves sleep at night, it was not the most efficient way of battle since it required quite a bit of training, about twice as long to master as a bow. During the great war, there was no time for lengthy training of troops, and thus more carnal solutions were used. Now, most Elves had taken the habit of notching on human terms, especially since it singled out the skilled rather than sharing company with newcomers, and it was no longer a display of how approachable and humble they were.
Dreamer of Lya meant that she was given a title in her hometown as a dreamer. While someone might not know who Amalay was, they would undoubtedly hear stories of “the Dreamer of Lya.” Depending on the size of the community, such stories could really mean something, but since Lya was pretty small and un-influential, it was probably a hand-full of wild antics that the locals knew about.
With her introduction out of the way, she signed the parchment before her. A calligrapher, she was not, and her chicken scratch was full of asymmetric letters and lumpy blobby loops that would have earned her the tisk of her teacher had she been nobility herself, or had she been studying swordsmanship. | Name: Meshiro
Age: "13" - (Though in reality, is a much greater age than this.)
Gender: Male
Race: Human.. ish ;)
Appearance: He's a small boy with a stature of 5'5 weighing at 113 pounds. Being a child prodigy, he excels mentally and needn't rely on his physical strength. He has lavender eyes which are curtained by lengthy locks of silver hair which is typically tucked under a quite large, black wizardly hat ornamented by a gold buckle, enormous goggles, and large rubies. He is constantly garbed in a ratty, dark blue robe that opens up to a plain, white tunic tucked neatly into brown trousers accompanied by ordinary black boots.
Backstory: A once ecstatic child prodigy & accomplished student at a scholar training school of Penrith. He then learned the truth, and the corrupt society hidden under the scrolls and books that he was decoding day by day, and so set off to pursue a dream of treasure hunting instead, thus becoming a vagabond - He found a golden stave which had a sapphire jewel set in its body in the corpse of a unusually large creature. The staff took his mana and in return allowed him to control water to a certain extent. Since then, he been a practioneer of magic and grew in strength over the time spent as a mercenary.
Personality: Eccentric, impulsive, with a degree of timidity, yet a keen sense of justice!
Weapon skill/choice: A golden staff with a blue sapphire on top of it. Nothing more & nothing less....
Weapon picture: N/A :(
Notable ability: He is a novice mage who has mastered the art & science of water manipulation, and only recently began to practice very minor fire magic. Physically he lacks the power to melee. However, he can detect auras and thus dodge incoming attacks by reading said auras, but he's not so quick on his feet... FURTHERMORE, he has the power to sprout wings of mana that can be used offensively & defensively.
Other Info: He suffers from narcolepsy, has trouble controlling his ridiculously large mana pool, & uses a very weird accent. |
8,407 | 230 | 2 | 821 | 1,017 | Human taverns... Without knowing it, the hunter's guild had done something that asked for compensation. Wouldn't it have been the better decision to hold this rally in the open field ? The initial benefit of it being warmer and calm in here was dwindling anyway, leaking out of this room divider that was barely given the chance to stay closed for any noticeable amount of time. Still, Grol was focusing on the damn thing as if he could stop the steady stream of people by greeting them with a grim look.
A silhouette grabbed his attention. Its strange familiarity had got it past the filter in the Etlock's mind, identifying it as something that was worth being relayed to his upper levels of consciousness despite the fact that it had only occured in the corner of his view. Grol raised himself on tiptoes, something that was bound to be considered hilarious because he was already towering above his surroundings, risiking a serious strike onto his head from above. It was a sign of good quality that the floor was able to hold up against his inhuman stature on such a small area without too much protest.
It was when Amalay got up from her curtsy that he was able to see her dead ahead. What a lucky person... or... was she really ? Or had it been determined usage of her skills that had gotten her in front of this desk so quickly ? He couldn't tell, but the latter thing really would not have surprised him. Grol could very well remember when and how this 'one kill' had occured. The true meaning of this event eluded him however. For the Etlock, it was 'just' a singularity in the behaviour of his friend. As far as he knew her, she didn't freak out and stab somebody with his own weapon, but used methods that seemed to be much more advanced. Not that this would have been capable of reducing his self esteem... After all, he was the biggest one in here. That had to count, too!
He glanced over to the two Etlock comrades. Grol already had to bear the rather bad reputation of his people, he knew that his appearance would do nothing but support this theory of all Etlock's being brutes, and now that! A small boy being pushed around like air by two of them. Perhaps he should step over and give them a beating before he had to start being afraid of a local revolt against his kind ? Luckily, the action subsided before the hulking giant had to give up his place in the line for this.
This was a good thing, because now he had progressed so far that there was only one person left in front of him. Once the man had made his signature, it was his turn to bend down and place his hand on the desk for support. If anyone was worried about Amalay's handwriting, that same one had to be horrified by the act of pure gross motor skills Grol was torturing both parchment and quill with. "Grol. If I wouldn't be convinced that the hunter's doing is a good thing I wouldn't try to join them." he growled with a voice that was brutally deep, then chuckled.
He was really looking forward to those physical tests. Hopefully they would have much to do with what he was good at and less with what he wasn't good at, but who knew ? Now he had to try to get out of this mess as quickly as possible, even if it meant stepping forward slowly, but continuously so that people would get out of his way of their own accord. | Amalaycolor=9900ff color=ffc000Age: 40 Gender: Female Race: Elf
Dark, for an elf, not particularly shapely or attractive, actually looks remarkably normal. Her ears stick out prominently, while most elves think it silly looking, she doesn't really care. She often has a somewhat grim, mischievous, and gleefully dangerous edge to her. Keeps her black hair in a que. Her clothing usually is leather or brown with a rich and vibrant spectrum of violets, purples, and indigos to compliment them. These are sewn to flare when moving but conceal the brilliance when standing still.
The forest was neither so rich nor so predominant. It was the Elves and their disgust of bloodshed that made it as we find it today. The enemies that once swarmed Lothadid were still quite alive, simply living the remainder of their existence transfigured into trees, owls, deer, and squirrels. This was the old way, the way before innocence had vanished, and before the Elves had to accommodate their lives with fur and flesh... before the Great War. It was called Somnance, and now was all but an obscure practice. Amalay’s family were some of the remnant that clung to the old ways.
Born odd and, though raised as normally as possible, she matured into an odd young woman. She was always on the fringe of breaching the social moraes, and never one to play politics. Predominant in her mind was an old philosophy of innocence that she insists that the Elves have since lost. This lead to alienation even in one of the most forgiving and accepting societies in the world. The Elves mostly believed that their ignorance was not a trait of pride, and had adapted the views of the Humans to compensate for it. Amalay thrived off of her isolation and opposition. One major gripe was the hunting of game (instead of a vegetarian and insectivorous diet) as well as the fact that they peaceably lived alongside of thousands of transfigured enemies without any form of conflict, insisting that there was no need for violence whatsoever. The Elves did not accept her poor attempts at persuasion and flat out accusations.
With disinterest in a “normal” life and being locked into nothing but if she stayed in her home, Amalay left the forest, searching for people who would listen. She found no such safe-haven. The rest of the world was even more close minded than the Elves.
She spent a number of years as a rover and doing odd jobs. Eventually she was hired by a traveling merchant as a guide and again as a mercenary. The comradely of these jobs was seriously lacking since most other mercenaries were borderline criminals and unwholesome folk with murderous jobs that they preferred over civil society. Yet it was good pay and a reason to travel. There was one Etlock (by the name of Grol Lak) in particular that drove her crazy, standing in opposition on a number of issues and opinions that Amalay felt strongly about. It wouldn't have been so bad if he wasn't hired on for just about every job that she was.
It turned out that when danger caught the travelers off guard or situations looked bleak that most of the mercenaries showed their true nature as cowards and traitors. These conflicts drove Amalay and Grol together as some of the only trustworthy people the other knew. While annoying each other greatly, but being present whenever they needed it, this blossomed into a somewhat sibling-like relationship.
Eventually things came to a head when a band of mercenaries brought the two of them on board for escorting yet another merchant caravan. This, however turned out to be a massive betrayal. Upon waking from a drugged stupor, found that everyone had been sold as slaves with the exception of the band of mercenaries that had hired them. Once they freed themselves and overpowered the slavers, Amalay and Grol called it quits as mercenaries and joined the much more trustworthy (if not as well traveled or well paid) Hunters.
Personality: Eclectic tastes, Weird, Mischievous, Humble
Innocent, kind, and playful; she comes across rather child-like.
However, she has an accusatory edge and a thorough level of self-righteousness.
She very impulsive.
People assume that there isn’t much practical information rolling around her head, but she has mastery over her own obscure studies.
Peaceful, she finds dismembering and killing enemies low, even for those who had it coming.
Weapon Skill/choice: Staff with a fern frond in the end. It can be configured to entangle, crush, slash, or pierce.
Notable Abilities:
Amalay is incredibly fast and nimble. When coupled with her menial mental discipline, it makes her unfit to function as a fighter. Even so, she is very difficult to strike due to her cunning and nimbleness. Her adeptness of body makes her a fantastic climber, acrobat, gymnast, sprinter, and also difficult to restrain or bind. She has learned how to compliment this with a good sense of balance as well as contortions and swimming, enabling her to navigate places that people normally consider to be impossible.
These boots enable her to jump several stories high, and prevent breaking bones upon landing. (No, she's not a gummy bear, think of Jedi Force Jump.) While they can be used as many times as the wearer wishes, after being disoriented upon landing, and finding a safe path to jump, and finally coupled with intentional use, this makes for it impractical to use rapidly. Likewise, one of these jumps requires the effort of a normal jump, therefore bouncing down a road is particularly tiring.
(Somnance is a special effect.) Elves can learn how to transfigure opponents into harmless indigenous life when an opponent is defeated, and it acts much like a residual electrical charge instead of injury. This really doesn’t change anything in the mechanics of the game, the charge is healed in the same amount of time it takes someone to heal naturally, and are only transfigured when fully out of the picture. So, instead of a corpse left behind, is a racoon or a tree or other harmless form of life. |
8,408 | 230 | 3 | 256 | 2,262 | Privy stood and was excited. Even though performing for kids was fun, he was ready for a new change of pace in his life. His axe hovered beside him, following him in the line for applying to this guild of hunters. "You do know that I'm not going to fight, right?" Cliff the axe said, with a rather echoey voice that reminded you of a lord of crime. His intentions were fair, just cursed with that sort of voice. Privy turned to his comrade and winked. "I wouldn't expect you to, friend. Sometimes a man just needs a brother to come along with him in his wacky antics, eh?" Privy cheerfully said as he nudged his axe friend. "... you're lucky that I can't actually do anything without you." exclaimed the axe as the two moved farther up in line. It took a while to notice that there was a large amount of Etlocks present in the line, and unfortunately, all of them seemed brutish. That was depressing, as Privy hoped that at least one of them would be close enough for him to relate to, but that was not the case.
Soon it got to the point where Privy and Cliff were at the front of the line, and it was time to sign up for this guild of hunters. Privy grabbed the quill and began to sign his name, which was actually legible compared to the words that were written by earlier applicants that equalled shit on paper. "Jameson Privy, Magician. Pleasure to meet your acquaintance." Privy finished his signature and moved to the side, allowing other applicants to sign up. | Name: Jameson Privy
Age: 36 (Humanly speaking)
Gender: Male
Race: Etlocks
Appearance: Jameson is a younger Etlocks man, cursed with dwarfism so he's about 3'11". His facial features include a large black beard, coming down to the bottom of his neck, he wears a top hat, and has a long tattoo on the side of his face. His body structure is of course, short, but it's very resilient from damage. He is built like a truck, and made to last a while. His clothing includes a hooded cloak atop a button-up white shirt, and a pair of khaki trousers.
Privy was rather doomed from the start, as he was born very short and was ridiculed by any and all of his companions and colleagues. The first day of school was tough when you're a short kid, and nobody really liked how he was so secretive and shy. This continued for the man until he reached a maturation point, where he discovered that he can cast his fair share of magic. This enlightened his life and he went to learn how to cast more and more spells, eventually leading to recognition as a mage. Unfortunately, his luck ran out when he started trying to cast certain spells and ended up casting a different spell (One time he tried freezing a tree and ended up igniting it). While this would probably depress some magic users, Privy was rather excited about it, and began to start taking a stage name and becoming a children's entertainer, putting on magic shows and making kids laugh. It was fun for a long time, and eventually he caught wind of the Hunters Guild accepting new recruits, and eagerly went to go join and help kill things as the great magician he was destined to be.
Personality: Privy speaks in a Russian accent, and enjoys making people laugh and smile. He doesn't like to think his disability is a weakness, rather as a motivator for his success in the future. He is also friends with an war battle axe.
Weapon skill/choice: He has an enchanted war axe, but he never uses it. He instead likes to use his fists as his main weapons.
This is a sentient war axe named Cliff, and is a very strict pacifist. It has the ability to speak on it's own will, and also float around on it's own will as well, but that's literally it.
Notable ability: Privy is a self-proclaimed Magician. As stated before, Privy has become a master of magic, but has lost the ability to accurately predict his spells when he casts them, so it's sort of random. He knows one spell that he can accurately cast on his own, and that is a defensive armor spell, and is casted when Privy exclaims he is armoring up.
Other Info: Cliff the war axe and Privy have been buds for the longest time, and as such are inseparable. |
8,409 | 230 | 4 | 1,109 | 118 | Amazing, everything was astonishing here, from the building to every person standing around. This is the Hall of Remembrance, a beautiful building with such detail in its design, it was made with hard work, something anyone can appreciate. Nlossae was not used to being in the city so late and felt a sense of thrill. She was experiencing an adventure already, the long line was not a bore for her if fact it was the best entertainment she had all year.
The people were so interesting everywhere, each one having their own story and own history. The mass amount of humans were not that entertaining, mostly because many of them are just the youth from Drovia that think they are true warriors. But the real interesting ones were the Elves and Etlocks, it is not normal to see those type around Drovia unless they were just visiting. So seeing so many in one building it was mind boggling.
As Nlossae waited in the long line, her eyes began to dart around looking at some of the most interesting characters. She quickly noticed the largest Etlock she had ever seen, he towered over everyone in the building. It was amazing, he carried with him a large morning star, and just his stature could frighten any normal bandit away. Then an odd little boy was getting shoved around little ways back behind between two Etlocks. He looks much too young to be in a place like this. Then maybe the oddest of them all was the very short man talking to his floating axe just ahead of Nlossae,
”This is one odd place.”
All of the sudden Nlossae was coming up in the line. The giant Etlock was up there right now but soon it would be her turn. It’s coming close to Nlossae, the nerves started to rise, this is her first impression and she knows that is the most important impression for an event like this. She stepped closer to the table mentally rehearsing what she was going to do and say. Next was the odd tiny man with the floating axe, she could not hear what he said unlike the giant that preceded him.
Finally, it was Nlossaes turn. She eagerly walked up to the table, stopping inches away from actually walking into the table. A lot ran through her mind but she knew two things meant a lot in situations like this, eye contact and a sturdy handshake. So Nlossaes stuck her hand directly at Varioyn while staring directly into his eyes, a little too intensely for a normal person.
”My name is Nlossae Qinynore, I am here to prove that I am just as good as all of the other races and also to help some people along the way.”
Nlossae smiled and signed her name at the first open space she saw on the sheet. There was a lot of chicken scratch on the sheet, which made sense since this is a room full of warriors, not authors. Then she stepped to the side and looked for a way out of this jumble of people. She saw the giant Etlock making his way through the crowd step by step. Nlossae wasn’t going to miss an opportunity to squeeze through the crowd, so she quickly ran up behind him and followed his lead through the crowd. | Name: Nlossae Qinynore
Age: 23 Gender: Female Race: Half-elf
Appearance: Nlossae stands at a steady height of 5'5", she is a little taller than most of the average female elves. She has dark brown hair that goes down to her lower shoulder blades and has deep brown eyes. Her ears look almost normal if it wasn’t for the slight peak, her ears are about the length of an elven child’s. She usually wears heavy furs or thick leather clothing she does not have civilian clothes because she does not spend much time in cities.
Backstory: During the Great War there were many tragedies that took place, all of the races were against one another seemingly out of nowhere. It was a quiet village to the East of Drovia, which was where Taanyth Qinynore was settled. Unfortunately, this is also one of the first places King Dolvirs, Royal men attacked. Taanyth was one of the many elf settlers that got captured and forced into slavery in the human city Drovia, though fighting for their lives her father was butchered by the humans. Taanyth spent the better part of her life in slavery working for her new human masters. That was until one day her master got extremely drunk and had the idea to sleep with Taanyth. This resulted in a forced pregnancy, she knew that if her master would find out about this, then he would kill her and her unborn child. So she knew she needed to escape.
Taanyth made friends with an Etlock who was hired as her masters’ guard. She explained to him the situation and he sympathized with her and agreed to get her out of the city. His name was Gukad and he was a gentle giant, it was quite easy to sneak away once he agreed to assist her. He just needed to pretend that he was just moving the merchandise which included Taanyth, they moved late in the afternoon and were questioned by very few. Gukad took Taanyth out to the West of Drovia up into the uninhabited mountains, there they worked together to build a small home for Taanyth and her child. Only a few weeks after the completion of the cabin Taanyth gave birth to a female half-elf named Nlossae.
As the years went by, Nlossae grew up in the isolated mountains. She and her mother lived alone eating what they could find. Soon Nlossae picked up hunting and became a very skilled hunter with the bow at age 10. Gukad visited the mother and daughter often and began to train Nlossae in the art of the longsword. As she grew in age she became more curious about the large castle past the mountains, once every so often she would take furs from the animals she had killed for trade. It always amazed her the giant walls made from stone and the mass amount of people in the area.
It was on one of those trips that Nlossae ran into a group of drunk guards, they saw her ears and started to mock her. Nlossae is very thin skinned and easily offended by the mockery of her heritage, so she challenged one of the guards to a duel. It did not take long for the drunk guard to fall on his butt, she soundly defeated him with little effort. She fought with something to prove and that made her dangerous. On her way out of town another guard stopped her, this one seemed much more mature, he offered her a job as a Hunter, it would pay well and give her the honor she desperately desired. Nlossae realized this is perfect, she would get to explore the world and be able to send money back to her mother. Also and maybe the most important, she would be able to prove a half-elf is just as good as everyone else.
Personality: Hot-headed and rambunctious, she fights for herself and her honor, she has no loyalty to any race or king, many might see it as a fault but she fights for what she believes is right. Though she has never killed anyone yet, she does have a great understanding of the sword and the power she holds with it. Her guard is never down and she feels like she is always being judged so she tries her hardest to prove to everyone that she is just as good, and she believes she is capable of doing anything anyone else can do.
Weapon skill/choice: She uses a bow for distance, but she prefers to use her long sword which seems to be slightly too large for her.
Notable ability: Great at tracking, sturdy footing, uses anger to her advantage |
8,410 | 230 | 5 | 242 | 1,238 | Kyik'thai had been sitting on a treebranch outside of the Hall of Remembrance for some time, watching the other applicants and members wandering in and out of the building, when she noticed the position of the sun for the first time that day. She was still unused to the time scales of the surface dwellers and their concept of day and night, but even so, she could tell that she had accidentally waited too long. She was late. Mild humiliation both prompted her to drop off of the tree and make her way inside, past the superterranean races.
The assortment of would-be Hunters was impressive and disappointing at once. Most of the hopefuls didn't even look as though they had killed anything yet, much less anything threatening. But there were some who caught her eye - and ears. In particular, one 'Etlock' as she had learned they were called, was even taller than she was, even if only by one inch - and looked like he weighed no less than six times as much. A part of her hoped she would work with the man in the future - he seemed dangerous, and therefore safer to travel with than others. Another part wanted to avoid him as much as possible out of self preservation.
The line to Varioyn was still quite long, as the room was incredibly crowded. She knew what lines were, of course - they were present everywhere. But that didn't mean she couldn't play the part of the clueless foreigner if someone complained. That was a specialty of hers. A few minutes of listening in on the introductions told her what she assumed she needed to know, and she slipped into the line. A wide smile baring her downright violent teeth ensured the human man she cut in front of wouldn't complain at all. When she turned toward Varioyn and the front of the line, she heard the man behind her quickly shuffle himself to the back of the line.
Some short time passed, and she arrived at the front of the line, now certain that she was supposed to state her name and what she wanted. I am Kyik'thai Tvikiir, and I'm here to find proper work, she wanted to say to the man before her. Varioyn was his name, apparently.
"Kyik'thai Tvikiir. Want house money."
It didn't come out quite how she wanted it to. She was clearly several years from being properly conversational - and it didn't help that she was slightly nervous, being the only Sviirog in the building. At least it was vaguely understandable, even if she did sound like a moron.
Her own words gave her a bit of a jolt, and she hurriedly scribbled her family sigil on the sign-in sheet, along with what she assumed to be the right spelling of her own name in the common tongue. She dropped the quill back into the ink bottle and spun to shove her way through the crowd, toward the door. The enormously tall Etlock and some others who didn't appear to be cut from the same cloth as the rest of the applicants seemed to be on their way to the door as well. | A race of humanoids found in only the deepest, darkest pits of the earth, where not even the Kiln dare to delve. Their origin is, like the caverns they inhabit, muddy and hidden - and it's suggested by those few who have ever encountered them that they were either created alongside the Elves, or alongside Men - or are a twisted version of either that has long since disappeared from the blessings of the sun.
They only rarely venture out of the depths of the earth, and typically turn back and go home upon reaching the caverns, mines, and forges of the Kiln, as the colder air towards the surface greatly bothers them. No Sviirog cities are known to exist, as their culture revolves around small familial groups tucked away within the cramped confines of their homes, where they farm rock-hard fungi and deep ponds of foul bacterial slimes.
They are extremely tall and spindly, standing at seven feet tall. They appear to almost be batlike - universally albino, with yellow or pink eyes, enormous lightly furred ears, and razor sharp teeth. Dim bioluminescent splotches or stripes criss-cross across their skin all the way across their bodies, to provide the minimal light needed to see in the deepest places of the world. Surface-dwelling Sviirog wear obsidian-lensed goggles to protect their eyes from the blinding sun.
Those Sviirog who walk the surface are considered by their kin to be severely and incurably mentally ill, and can never again return to their homes - and, for the most part, they wouldn't want to return in the first place. They are silent and clever, and above ground they are recognized as competent pyromancers and assassins.
Note: Though gifted with the ability to see with absolutely no light sources whatsoever, they do not see colors the same way as other races do. This leads to the amusing ability to easily tell the difference between different kinds of otherwise identical minerals, fungi, and grasses, while simultaneously not being able to tell the difference between an orange piece of cloth or a purple one.
Kyik'thai Tvikiir
(or Kyik, for those with trouble pronouncing it)
Age: 26
Gender: F
Race: Sviirog
Appearance:
Kyik stands at an imposing 7'3" - a fair bit taller than the average Sviirog, and weighs in at 105 lbs, giving her a twiglike, fiendish look, almost like a twisted elf. Her large, angular eyes are a shade of near-lilac pink, though she always keeps them hidden beneath Kiln-made obsidian welding goggles. Like most Sviirog, her hair is thin, white, and scraggly - and she keeps it in a ponytail to keep it from drawing any attention. Massive batlike ears are coated with very fine snow-white fuzz, peaked neatly at the tips - and it's obvious that she takes quite good care of them. For the Sviirog, ear care is vastly more important than hair care, after all.
A ghost of a glow can be seen on her skin in a tiger-stripe pattern all across her body and face - faint enough that it's only properly visible for those with near perfect nightvision in a dark room.
In terms of clothing, she is often bundled up in very heavy cloaks or coats at all times, very few of which actually fit her, and all of which clash horribly with one anothers' colors. Beneath the mountains of warming fabric, she wears sturdy yet flexible dark stone green leather armor over a matching skintight leather suit. She often wears soft fur earmuffs to protect from the loud winds and speech of the surface. A green-and-red plaid flat cap sits atop her head, between her massive ears.
Backstory:
The Tvikiir clan, comprised of no more than ten Sviirog, was a well respected family within the circle of caverns four kilometers beneath Caragosh. Their depth was an indicator of their status, as the deeper caves provided the most heat and moisture - vital for fungus and slime farming - as well as access to the best ore veins. Her fathers were miners by trade, and her mothers tended to the sludge pools - sustaining themselves by trading materials and food further up the caverns to those closer to the surface.
As a Sviirog of breeding age, she was expected to help replenish the populations of the other clans to prevent inbreeding and a rapid population - and she did her duty as well as any other Sviirog. Most Sviirog have an average of five children throughout their lifetime, each by different sets of parents, and blood ties are generally forgotten in favor of clan and guardian - though most don't survive to adulthood, thanks to the harsh living conditions in the depths of the earth. She neither knows nor cares if her spawn are still alive.
By 23, having done her duty to her people, Kyik felt restless and unsatisfied with a life of watching pond scum reproduce, and sought out alternate ways to make herself useful - from basic medicine, to spectacularly failed attempts at inventing new tools (the Sviirog are, despite being clever earth-dwellers like the Dwarves/Kiln, not well suited to engineering). At 25, she heard a rumor from one of the surfaceward clan traders that there were strange, tiny creatures that go on two legs far, far above them, where the air was biting cold and foul to the nose - and she heard that they were masters of crafts the Sviirog didn't even have a name for.
She said her goodbyes to her clan, who all told her that she would be back within the year, but didn't object to her leaving. They figured she would be sickened by the uninhabitable air and the poor food up above, and would come running back home when she grew tired of it. They were wrong.
It took almost four months for her to climb all the way from the caverns, on account of the incredibly treacherous vertical ascents and the rather nasty wildlife that kept the Kiln from going any deeper than they already had - but she eventually reached one of the mine shafts near Caragosh. One Kiln saw her, and she saw the Kiln - before both immediately scurried back down their respective holes in fear. She crawled back out, and the Kiln had returned - this time, with a blanket and a lantern, which burned her eyes horribly. The two couldn't understand eachothers' language, but after some time, they came to an understanding, and she continued on her journey upwards, now in possession of clothing and a set of welding goggles.
Kyik cannot remember what adventures she had between meeting the first Kiln and arriving on the surface - but she found herself with no nonviolent skills, no home, and only the faintest idea of the language of the surface dwellers - and she was very, very cold. Much of her time was spent trying to blend in with the locals (and failing miserably), or hunting the local wildlife for food, as the only sustenance that kept her strength up was meat.
Her 26th birthday has recently passed, and with it, she has learned of a place where she may find work, and thus life: the Hunters' Guild.
Personality:
Borderline alien.
Sviirog culture is so far removed from surface culture that it is difficult to identify specific personality traits amidst the tribalism and strangeness, but others have described her from the viewpoint of surface dwellers. Here's what they've had to say.
She is fiercely proud of her heritage and family, and if successfully insulted (in such a manner that she understands it to be an insult, and it actually offends her Sviirog nature), she has been known to brawl viciously. She's surprisingly talkative for someone who only half-understands the local language, and often attempts to joke, though the translation from Sviirog to the common tongue usually causes it to fall flat. She has begun taking a strong interest in puns, though, which can be a little bit annoying at times.
She values courtesy, and hates magic being performed too closeby - the otherworldly heat and vibrations of casting makes her very uncomfortable.
She values life much less than most and doesn't think much about morality when accepting jobs.
Although it hasn't been confirmed, there have been reports of small fires spreading in every town she has visited while she was present. Possible minor arsonist.
She appears to be very, very clever and pragmatic - though she has more or less no surface education.
Weapon skill/choice: Rows upon rows of razor-sharp teeth. She is very good at biting things. Failing that, she can and will use a dagger, but that's pushing it. She feels awkward with a weapon in her hands, and prefers to use her natural equipment.
Notable abilities: Completely untrained natural pyromancer. Like most Sviirog, she is capable of producing flames at any point within twenty meters of her body, but unlike most Sviirog, she never focused on developing this skill - and, as such, is only able to make the equivalent of a large candle flame, a loud popping noise, or a bright flash of light.
The time she didn't spend on learning fire magicks, however, was spent on learning to climb and explore the caverns without attracting the attention of other Sviirog or the local vicious beasts. She can nearly silently scale any porous surface the fine hairs in her skin can take hold of.
Sviirog strength and agility permits her to contort herself into otherwise unthinkable positions, making her motions very difficult to predict in combat.
Other Info: Odd-color vision, perfect darkvision. Incredibly fine hearing, but can be very easily incapacitated by loud noises if not wearing hearing protection. |
8,411 | 230 | 6 | 2,251 | 16 | As the sun cast an odd shadow on Orac's face he winced his eyes and glanced over at the Guild hall. "Suppose I better go and see if somebody wants me uh?" he said to himself nonchalantly.
With that Orac walked slowly but gallantly over the sun baked stone towards the hall. Not caring that people were busy wandering through the streets Orac just seemed to bustle his way through without hindering a single person.
As he reached the line he glanced along, "about 7 people in front, jeez I am already sick of waiting." Orac was an impatient Elf and he wasn't afraid to show his anger and restlessness.
Finally he was next to go in-"Well here we go, my parents didn't want me when I was young let's see if I fair any better here."With that he pulled his hood down on his jacket and made his way in.
Once in the hall Orac was nearly but not quite speechless so many race, origins, backstory all in one room ready to take weapons, tools and friends on to quests and who knows what battles.
"I am here to join sir you won't be disappointed." Orac said with haste to Ordmar one of the volunteer workers.
"We are the one's to decide who is worth and not, erm what is your name exactly?".
"Orac good sir and I would like to sign up please".And with that Ordmar gave him a quill and told him to sign on the line.
"That's it?, no questioning? No medical test? AWESOME!".
Orac signed. | Name: ORAC
Age:25
Gender:MALE
Race: Elves
Appearance: Average body type, non toned, 5ft11, white hair, tattoo left hand and behind left ear.
Hooded jacket, canvas trousers (tattered) scarf around neck and a backpack.
Backstory: Orac was left to fend for himself at the tender age of 4 in Lothadia to be found by an elder elf and raised as a master bowman and assassin.
Personality: Orac comes across as a cocky individual yet deep down has insecurity's. Orac will always try and talk himself out of a situation first before fighting but once it evolves to a battle is second to non.
Weapon skill/choice: Bow and arrow.
Notable ability Stealthy, fast paced and extremely agile. Massive ability with a bow and arrow. Sniping with a bow is Orac's specialist skill. |
8,412 | 230 | 7 | 1,476 | 371 | The air became lighter and lighter as more bodies signed and left the hall, few stayed but the room seemed less daunting. Every New-Blood had a personality, it was the first time he actually felt hope for the guild again. Many of the names burned his mind, he could see potential.
His eyes glanced across the full paper of recruits, it may have been the first in a long while that The Hunters were openly inviting people to join the ranks, but never had he expected such a turn out. Varioyn grabbed his cloak and walked around to a few that had stayed, introducing himself. No one seemed interested in becoming apart of conversation, he didn't blame them. Most were probably nervous for the inevitable join or boot that tomorrow would seek to provide.
The day after...
Varioyn rose and grabbed his cloak and swords, his gut twisted for those he was going to have to let go today. Varioyn was a kind man, not one to fancy bringing senseless pain to others, it was a great honor to be in the guild, at least among the humans of Drovia, it gave anyone respect no matter the race.
As he walked down stairs he noticed yet again the large crowd gathered in the Hall of Remembrance, he stopped and looked around. "Where in the hell is Javier.." he thought to himself. He shrugged it off, seeing how he may have better things to do than train a bunch of new bloods.
"Hello again everyone, I hope you slept well in anticipation for your tests.." Varioyn gave a slight smirk. "I'm afraid to inform you that Head-Master will not be joining us on this day as he has a important deliverer mission that was urgent for the Kings men." Varioyn's face molded back into a stern seriousness that he was partly afraid might make the crowd uncomfortable. He tried to lighten up. "As Head-Master explained yesterday, you have all signed up and now will begin your trials.. We will start with the intellectual trials. A test if you will." He was surprised to not here an uproar of groans and agony set forth by education that he was so used to from his younger brethren. Varioyn laid he sword on the large wooden table across from the first of the crowd. "There is old language, even I do not know on this blade, it was given to me but a old Etlock friend of mine. By his word he said it is a shard of a much larger sword called Illikorav, or 'Blood Cleaver' In Giant, now I speak of this because your first question is. Who was the first Titan, born of ash and also known as the Father of the giants? Varioyn panned the group as the question set it. Your second question is How was the Hunters guild come to be? A simpler question he thought, but it opened the end of history not normally studied. He looked down at his pencil scratched paper, that was the last question provided by Ash. He looked up quickly not to give his struggled facial expression away. Last question.. What city must you never step foot in, for it is the source of all death and darkness? He looked up to the map on the wall behind him, to the west past Lothadia.. Darkness. Varioyn moved out of his seat and looked around. Once those are answered, we will move on. | Name: Varioyn Black
Age: 25
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Appearance: He stands at an above average human height of 6'2, he is lengthy and slimmer although has notable muscle from his life training to be a hunter. Although he is light hearted, he keeps a serious persona while on a hunt.
Backstory: Varioyn was born in Drovia into a softly wealthy family, they treated him well, although his mother was young, she could not support herself and a child, so reluctantly one night, as the moon shined blankly along the stone walls, he was given to the Hunters guild, and raised by a young man named Ash. Who would only a decade later become the Headmaster of the Guild. At a young age Varioyn was thought to be a natural at what the guild did, he killed his first dear at 7, his first bear at 10, by the time he was 14 he mastered the art of sword play and speed of the bow. Ash held him back from joining the ranks officially until his 14th birthday in fear that he would lose him to the hunt. As Ash loved Varioyn as his own blood, he was the only son that he ever had, and Ash was Varioyn's only parent. His past swept under what the present was. On his 14th birthday he officially was to become part of the ranks, and did what most low ranking hunters had, hunted food for local butcheries. He grew quickly Ash felt, and when he turned 21 he was promoted to a True Hunter. He resides in training new hunters and carrying out the A ranked hunts, the most dangerous.
Personality: Varioyn is kind, and forgiving until crossed or loved ones hurt, his guild is his family and he does not shy away from vengeance. He has a sense of humor and is normally favored over the other instructors.
Weapon skill/choice: Bow, dual long swords/ daggers
Notable ability: Increased senses, Great at tracking and stealth, a natural born hunter.
Other info: I keep things in CS shorter, because I like reviling things about the character through the narrative. |
8,413 | 230 | 8 | 2,764 | 11 | (Pondering, Meshiro stared down at his paper and pencil with a blank expression. Suddenly, the lad began blurting out in one of his random self rants.)
"Taha! A test of smarts, right? Childs play... Eh.. Even though I am a child, but... Alright. Ehh.. Time to answer I guess, signori."
Titan Oric was born of ash...
Well, the hunters...
(Meshiro was interrupted by a sudden yet familiar musty stench permeating his nostrils. On his side, he caught glimpse of a looming Etlock gazing at his answer sheet from above.)
"Huh? I can smell you inching closer, and closer, so listen big fella', back off my paper before I bonk you with my staff, ok? Eh, I guess only one of us will be a hunter after all, so no worries. Teehaha."
(Said Meshiro to the now embarrassed Etlock on his right. The Etlock cocked his head in the other direction, flushed with steam billowing from out his nostrils. The Etlock then started to cheat off a nearby elf paper. However, now that Meshiro is looking around, he could find so many individuals cheating. There was one human using some sort of unusual body language with his comrade to communicate answers. There was an elf holding a toxin-tipped arrow into the side of a human sitting next to him, forcing the human to cough up answers. An Etlock towards the corner of the room hung his unnecessarily shiny buckler shield against the wall at an angle that allowed him to see answers in the reflection of the shiny rampart.)
"Seems everyone is cheating in some way."
Anyways... The hunters started off as an elite crew of assassins made to dispatch adversaries of the old king, but now have been reformed into trained guards of the land.
Lastly, the 'Burg'. Mhm, Finished!
"Godspeed ya bub. See ya later, if ya pass! Teehahaha!"
(Shouted the youngling as he trudged off, staff in hand.) | Name: Meshiro
Age: "13" - (Though in reality, is a much greater age than this.)
Gender: Male
Race: Human.. ish ;)
Appearance: He's a small boy with a stature of 5'5 weighing at 113 pounds. Being a child prodigy, he excels mentally and needn't rely on his physical strength. He has lavender eyes which are curtained by lengthy locks of silver hair which is typically tucked under a quite large, black wizardly hat ornamented by a gold buckle, enormous goggles, and large rubies. He is constantly garbed in a ratty, dark blue robe that opens up to a plain, white tunic tucked neatly into brown trousers accompanied by ordinary black boots.
Backstory: A once ecstatic child prodigy & accomplished student at a scholar training school of Penrith. He then learned the truth, and the corrupt society hidden under the scrolls and books that he was decoding day by day, and so set off to pursue a dream of treasure hunting instead, thus becoming a vagabond - He found a golden stave which had a sapphire jewel set in its body in the corpse of a unusually large creature. The staff took his mana and in return allowed him to control water to a certain extent. Since then, he been a practioneer of magic and grew in strength over the time spent as a mercenary.
Personality: Eccentric, impulsive, with a degree of timidity, yet a keen sense of justice!
Weapon skill/choice: A golden staff with a blue sapphire on top of it. Nothing more & nothing less....
Weapon picture: N/A :(
Notable ability: He is a novice mage who has mastered the art & science of water manipulation, and only recently began to practice very minor fire magic. Physically he lacks the power to melee. However, he can detect auras and thus dodge incoming attacks by reading said auras, but he's not so quick on his feet... FURTHERMORE, he has the power to sprout wings of mana that can be used offensively & defensively.
Other Info: He suffers from narcolepsy, has trouble controlling his ridiculously large mana pool, & uses a very weird accent. |
8,414 | 230 | 9 | 256 | 2,262 | Privy stared down at his piece of paper, his axe friend looking over it with him. Privy began writing the answers to the questions provided, occasionally whispering to Cliff for some assistance with this test. Cliff was the more intelligent one of this duo, while Privy was everything else.
I know that it was Oric that was born of ash, I do know that... but why was the Hunter's guild created...?
Privy whispered to Cliff. They signed up under the same list so it wasn't technically cheating.
"Cliff, what do I put for the second one...?"
"... fuck man I don't know. They were assassins or something right?"
"Were they? That would make some sense..."
Privy wrote down that they were assassins at some point hired by the king, who later... um... fuck.
"Cliff, why are they still around?"
"... James we both know you found me in a trinket store, how would I know? What did you write..."
"I wrote that they were assassins hired by the king, that's all I had."
"... um... the king found another use for their services or something like that?"
Privy wrote down that the king found another use of their services after they fulfilled their need as assassins.
Last one... which town...? Oh it's the Burg.
Privy finished the test as he and Cliff turned in his exam and left.
"... you failed didn't you?"
"I at least got one I think." | Name: Jameson Privy
Age: 36 (Humanly speaking)
Gender: Male
Race: Etlocks
Appearance: Jameson is a younger Etlocks man, cursed with dwarfism so he's about 3'11". His facial features include a large black beard, coming down to the bottom of his neck, he wears a top hat, and has a long tattoo on the side of his face. His body structure is of course, short, but it's very resilient from damage. He is built like a truck, and made to last a while. His clothing includes a hooded cloak atop a button-up white shirt, and a pair of khaki trousers.
Privy was rather doomed from the start, as he was born very short and was ridiculed by any and all of his companions and colleagues. The first day of school was tough when you're a short kid, and nobody really liked how he was so secretive and shy. This continued for the man until he reached a maturation point, where he discovered that he can cast his fair share of magic. This enlightened his life and he went to learn how to cast more and more spells, eventually leading to recognition as a mage. Unfortunately, his luck ran out when he started trying to cast certain spells and ended up casting a different spell (One time he tried freezing a tree and ended up igniting it). While this would probably depress some magic users, Privy was rather excited about it, and began to start taking a stage name and becoming a children's entertainer, putting on magic shows and making kids laugh. It was fun for a long time, and eventually he caught wind of the Hunters Guild accepting new recruits, and eagerly went to go join and help kill things as the great magician he was destined to be.
Personality: Privy speaks in a Russian accent, and enjoys making people laugh and smile. He doesn't like to think his disability is a weakness, rather as a motivator for his success in the future. He is also friends with an war battle axe.
Weapon skill/choice: He has an enchanted war axe, but he never uses it. He instead likes to use his fists as his main weapons.
This is a sentient war axe named Cliff, and is a very strict pacifist. It has the ability to speak on it's own will, and also float around on it's own will as well, but that's literally it.
Notable ability: Privy is a self-proclaimed Magician. As stated before, Privy has become a master of magic, but has lost the ability to accurately predict his spells when he casts them, so it's sort of random. He knows one spell that he can accurately cast on his own, and that is a defensive armor spell, and is casted when Privy exclaims he is armoring up.
Other Info: Cliff the war axe and Privy have been buds for the longest time, and as such are inseparable. |
8,415 | 230 | 10 | 1,836 | 2,633 | Javier was sent to round up a bunch of bandits and take them to jail with minimal bloodshed. It was quite difficult, given how barbaric and aggressive they were towards outsiders. Good thing he was with a bunch of other experienced Hunters. They were able to incapacitate the bandits without killing any of them. The leader of the bandits was quite a person, that was for sure. Very different from who Javier worked for before.
Boss Rodevic was quite a kind man. After his surrender, he kept quiet and didn't resist. He knew he couldn't escape so he hushed his own guild while they were being transported. Rodevic was in no way honorable nor was he merciful, but he was at least a smart man. Smart enough to know when he is defeated. This leader, however, kept on struggling against his binds as he and his team was being sent to the capital for their trial. He kept on spouting off insults like the Hunters present would even care what he said. They were sent and they would do their job. That was it.
They had dropped off the gang and after making sure that the guards had them, they left for the Hall of Remembrance. They talked among each other about the new recruits. This should be their next day after the sign-ups. A test, if they remembered correctly. The white haired male silently listened though, as they moved in their carriage. Soon enough, the Hall of Remembrance was in sight. Loading off their supplies, they headed through the other doors so that they wouldn't meet the mass of new-bloods.
Javier peered from the second floor. There were a lot of them. Some would surely not get into the guild because... well because they couldn't get everyone in there. Some caught his eye. Like that tall Etlock over there. There were other smaller people. As expected, they were taking the test. It is quite easy if you knew at least the basics. Well, to be perfectly honest, he almost failed at this one mostly because he was just a mercenary. The second question threw him way off but he was briefed about it thanks to the King.
He descended from the stairs silently and took his place beside Varioyn. He kept his head down as he did so and asked, "Is there anything for me to do Varioyn?" | Name: Javier Illivis
Age: 30
Gender: Male
Race: Elf
Appearance: Javier stands at a small height of 5'5", or at least small by his race and gender's average height. Although this doesn't really bother him. He has white hair and has dull grey eyes, a result from some sort of abnormal genes from his parents but he couldn't be too sure. From his chin and downwards, he has a white tattoo that was placed on him when he was just a young boy. While he isn't "body-builder" muscular, he has visible muscles thanks to the constant training he had to undergo in the guild and before. In jobs, he would usually wear light armor, given that he is an assassin, . He would often carry two long and slim daggers with him, hidden in his person. A black bow may be found in his hands at times, but not too often. When he's not on a job though, he would often be seen in a beige shirt, pants, combat boots and black gloves.
Backstory: Abandoned when he was just an infant, Javier never knew his parents. He was picked up by the leader of a mercenary guild after finding the poor boy abandoned in the streets. It was more of finding another member than out of pity though. That's why Javier grew up with close to no morals at all except for being loyal and being dedicated to something you want to do. By the time that he was five, he was already taught things he had to know to live, like reading, writing and talking. By the time he was six, though, he was already taught how to wield a knife. As he grew older, the training just got progressively harder. He was placed under the care of Ovir, an assassin, to teach him what needs to be done as an apprentice of the guild.
Training was harsh but Javier endured. By the time he was eleven, he had already killed over ten people and infiltrated over sixteen houses. He murders in cold-blood. He has also felt like the guild is his family. While they're not exactly the caring type, they're fun to be around. This was also the time he had gained his tattoo since he is now seen as a full fledged member of the guild and not an apprentice.
A year later, however, King Darion had caught them and put everyone on trial. However, upon seeing Javier, a young teen at that time, he felt pity. Being the good king he is, he released the young man. But not without something in exchange. He asked if Javier was willing to join the Hunters. Javier was initially reluctant to accept since he is already part of a guild but King Darion mentioned that they were on death row. He will not have a place to live in anymore. Javier was convinced soon after that and decided to swear loyalty to King Darion and the Hunters.
Ever since joining up with the Hunters, his views on how he could live his life had changed. They were a bunch who truly cared for the kingdom, apparently. Although it did nothing to change his views on a life. That was the sad and harsh reality. But most did not mind since he had become more easygoing and fun to be around. He has skills too so that was a bonus for them. When he turned twenty, he started to actively learn Dark Magic. Not necromancy or blood magic or any of those stuff. He wants to bend the shadows to his will. Currently, he is able to cloak himself with darkness so that he will have a higher chance of sneaking around.
Personality: Javier is a generally passive guy when it comes to insults and criticisms. He would often be seen just smiling or laughing it off. It's more like he just couldn't care less of what others think of him. Although he does welcome criticism, especially in his work, skills, abilities so that he can further improve himself. He's a pretty nice guy and helpful as well. He's a pretty chill guy, often seen relaxing when not on a job. While he is dedicated to his job as a Hunter, he does love his rest times too. He adores children in his off time and spends time playing with them, given that they don't mind playing with an elf.
Javier is a cold-blooded killer. He feels nothing when he slips a knife into someone else's body. He feels nothing when blood is sprayed all over the ground. He feels nothing when they don't move. That's the type of killer Javier has been molded to become, and he honestly doesn't mind it. Since he is dedicated to his work, it just gives him an advantage over a lot of people. He doesn't hesitate to end someone's life for the sake of his job. He doesn't even care if it's right or not. He also doesn't care too much if something close to him dies since he knows everyone will die eventually.
Weapon skill/choice: Daggers, Bow, Dark Magic (basic)
Weapon picture:
Notable ability: An expert in stealth, knows basic dark magic
"A job is a job. An order is an order. Do it or die." - Master Ovir
"People eventually die anyway, so why should I care if someone dies?" - Javier Illivis
"Loyalty and Devotion. No mercy and remorse." - Mercenary Guild saying. |
8,416 | 230 | 11 | 821 | 1,017 | Intellectual tests ? One could tell by the Etlock's facial expression that he wasn't exactly fond of that immediate prospect. The room had already filled with a plethora of different people of most of the races he knew about. Of course it had to. It was the same bunch of people he had seen the day before, the day of his signup. Hopefully he wouldn't regret it...
The Etlock's hand, richly decorated with robust, black hair sprouting from its back, went for a head-on assault against the pile of writing material. He knew that his writing was rather horrible, and as he had already provided a sample of it to Varioyn, he had to assume that the instructor knew as well. Grol wasn't eager to be the one that had to more or less shily get up and ask for another sheet of parchment because he needed more than twice as much space for the same number of letters than the average elf.
He noted someone who appeared to be an Etlock just like himself by his stature. Yet Grol found it still very difficult to believe that, because... How tall was this guy ? Four feet, perhaps even less. He couldn't help but pity him - such a curse. This boy likely was being laughed at by many, perhaps that was the reason why he had taken his weapon with him. So had several people; it was something Grol considered bravado. Noone needed a sword or a shield to fill in a stupid test!
Jameson's seat on the bench dropped significantly when Grol placed himself next to him and started to read. The first question seemed very easy on first glance, but it took the Etlock a several seconds to start writing.
Well... Since you are referring to a Titan born out of ash, it is clear that the correct answer is Oric. However the legend only says that 'Titans were born', indicating that the first titan might not exist, but that Oric and Iris are both the first of their kind.
Boring. Grol slammed his right index finger into the right hole of his nose (that luckily had a sufficient diameter) and started drilling for a couple of seconds. Considering the output - that quickly got swiped off the parchment onto his lap and from there onto the floor -, perhaps it was not such a lucky thing that the hole's diameter was sufficient after all.
Next question.
Because the great king Darion anticipated that one day the world would need an institution so awesome that a legendary Etlock called Grol would consider joining, giving it that tiny extra bit of power it needed to finally save the world. He quickly scored out this sentence and started writing the real answer beneath it.
Now: A city one should not dare to enter because it was the source of all death and darkness ? Grol arched one eyebrow, grinning. With the vigor of someone who had had a great idea and wanted to secure it in written form before his mind would loose it again, the Etlock scribbled.
Now you've maneuvered yourself into a serious dilemma: Of course, there is the undead city simply called The Burg, which could be considered the correct answer. However, according to my experience and knowledge, my race (I'm an Etlock) is often considered brute and filled with dark magic. So I could theorize that from your perspective, you could consider Etlockbarv as a source of death and darkness as well. One normally isn't allowed to enter it. So, hard choices for me... But I just say The Burg. | Amalaycolor=9900ff color=ffc000Age: 40 Gender: Female Race: Elf
Dark, for an elf, not particularly shapely or attractive, actually looks remarkably normal. Her ears stick out prominently, while most elves think it silly looking, she doesn't really care. She often has a somewhat grim, mischievous, and gleefully dangerous edge to her. Keeps her black hair in a que. Her clothing usually is leather or brown with a rich and vibrant spectrum of violets, purples, and indigos to compliment them. These are sewn to flare when moving but conceal the brilliance when standing still.
The forest was neither so rich nor so predominant. It was the Elves and their disgust of bloodshed that made it as we find it today. The enemies that once swarmed Lothadid were still quite alive, simply living the remainder of their existence transfigured into trees, owls, deer, and squirrels. This was the old way, the way before innocence had vanished, and before the Elves had to accommodate their lives with fur and flesh... before the Great War. It was called Somnance, and now was all but an obscure practice. Amalay’s family were some of the remnant that clung to the old ways.
Born odd and, though raised as normally as possible, she matured into an odd young woman. She was always on the fringe of breaching the social moraes, and never one to play politics. Predominant in her mind was an old philosophy of innocence that she insists that the Elves have since lost. This lead to alienation even in one of the most forgiving and accepting societies in the world. The Elves mostly believed that their ignorance was not a trait of pride, and had adapted the views of the Humans to compensate for it. Amalay thrived off of her isolation and opposition. One major gripe was the hunting of game (instead of a vegetarian and insectivorous diet) as well as the fact that they peaceably lived alongside of thousands of transfigured enemies without any form of conflict, insisting that there was no need for violence whatsoever. The Elves did not accept her poor attempts at persuasion and flat out accusations.
With disinterest in a “normal” life and being locked into nothing but if she stayed in her home, Amalay left the forest, searching for people who would listen. She found no such safe-haven. The rest of the world was even more close minded than the Elves.
She spent a number of years as a rover and doing odd jobs. Eventually she was hired by a traveling merchant as a guide and again as a mercenary. The comradely of these jobs was seriously lacking since most other mercenaries were borderline criminals and unwholesome folk with murderous jobs that they preferred over civil society. Yet it was good pay and a reason to travel. There was one Etlock (by the name of Grol Lak) in particular that drove her crazy, standing in opposition on a number of issues and opinions that Amalay felt strongly about. It wouldn't have been so bad if he wasn't hired on for just about every job that she was.
It turned out that when danger caught the travelers off guard or situations looked bleak that most of the mercenaries showed their true nature as cowards and traitors. These conflicts drove Amalay and Grol together as some of the only trustworthy people the other knew. While annoying each other greatly, but being present whenever they needed it, this blossomed into a somewhat sibling-like relationship.
Eventually things came to a head when a band of mercenaries brought the two of them on board for escorting yet another merchant caravan. This, however turned out to be a massive betrayal. Upon waking from a drugged stupor, found that everyone had been sold as slaves with the exception of the band of mercenaries that had hired them. Once they freed themselves and overpowered the slavers, Amalay and Grol called it quits as mercenaries and joined the much more trustworthy (if not as well traveled or well paid) Hunters.
Personality: Eclectic tastes, Weird, Mischievous, Humble
Innocent, kind, and playful; she comes across rather child-like.
However, she has an accusatory edge and a thorough level of self-righteousness.
She very impulsive.
People assume that there isn’t much practical information rolling around her head, but she has mastery over her own obscure studies.
Peaceful, she finds dismembering and killing enemies low, even for those who had it coming.
Weapon Skill/choice: Staff with a fern frond in the end. It can be configured to entangle, crush, slash, or pierce.
Notable Abilities:
Amalay is incredibly fast and nimble. When coupled with her menial mental discipline, it makes her unfit to function as a fighter. Even so, she is very difficult to strike due to her cunning and nimbleness. Her adeptness of body makes her a fantastic climber, acrobat, gymnast, sprinter, and also difficult to restrain or bind. She has learned how to compliment this with a good sense of balance as well as contortions and swimming, enabling her to navigate places that people normally consider to be impossible.
These boots enable her to jump several stories high, and prevent breaking bones upon landing. (No, she's not a gummy bear, think of Jedi Force Jump.) While they can be used as many times as the wearer wishes, after being disoriented upon landing, and finding a safe path to jump, and finally coupled with intentional use, this makes for it impractical to use rapidly. Likewise, one of these jumps requires the effort of a normal jump, therefore bouncing down a road is particularly tiring.
(Somnance is a special effect.) Elves can learn how to transfigure opponents into harmless indigenous life when an opponent is defeated, and it acts much like a residual electrical charge instead of injury. This really doesn’t change anything in the mechanics of the game, the charge is healed in the same amount of time it takes someone to heal naturally, and are only transfigured when fully out of the picture. So, instead of a corpse left behind, is a racoon or a tree or other harmless form of life. |
8,417 | 230 | 12 | 2,251 | 16 | Orac heard Varioyn speak about the 'aptitude' tests and muttered "Me take a test? You have got to be joking, I have never had to take a test in my life, can they not see how ready and able I am? Oh well I better answer I don't want to get kicked out in front of all these guild starters".
Orac lifted his hand to the paper in front and started to write, "OK question one" Orac inked Oric was born of ash.
He then moved on to question 2.
"HM tough one however I believe this to be Etlock Barve but I am not totally sure, ah screw it" and inks it anyway. Orac then moves on to question 3.
He pens simply, elite crew of assassins.
Orac sat back in his chair and crossed his legs waiting for the slower guild members to finish looking over to his right he see's (@Fetzen) Grol digging his finger in to his nose and quickly wiping it away.
putting his legs straight and slight moving forward again back to his desk Orac pulls a bottle of cider from his satchel and begins taking sips swigging it around his mouth like he was sitting in the village dentist throne awaiting a procedure.
He could hear people all around him whispering and confirming answers even though they were told not to - "Pfft god damn cheaters didn't they hear what the guy said?" | Name: ORAC
Age:25
Gender:MALE
Race: Elves
Appearance: Average body type, non toned, 5ft11, white hair, tattoo left hand and behind left ear.
Hooded jacket, canvas trousers (tattered) scarf around neck and a backpack.
Backstory: Orac was left to fend for himself at the tender age of 4 in Lothadia to be found by an elder elf and raised as a master bowman and assassin.
Personality: Orac comes across as a cocky individual yet deep down has insecurity's. Orac will always try and talk himself out of a situation first before fighting but once it evolves to a battle is second to non.
Weapon skill/choice: Bow and arrow.
Notable ability Stealthy, fast paced and extremely agile. Massive ability with a bow and arrow. Sniping with a bow is Orac's specialist skill. |
8,418 | 230 | 13 | 1,476 | 371 | Amalay glanced around the room after the questions were asked. Every question was common knowledge. Of course, as he spoke she wrote his questions down verbatim. She glanced at them again trying to see if held a double meaning or were deceptive, but no, every question was pretty straightforward. She glanced around to make sure that this wasn't some sort of social experiment or hazing, but everybody seemed diligently writing down the answers or trying to wrack their brains in order to find out.
They aren't too picky about filtering out the dummies in this place are they? This is all common knowledge. I thought they were supposed to be the best of the best, the most cunning. This seems more like formality for the city guard or militia, just making sure people listen to their commander.
She shrugged and wrote down the answers in as few words as possible. Then things began clicking in her brain and wouldn't stop.
Why are the King's men unavailable?
Why are the Hunters openly recruiting again?
Why are they not being more picky in their testing?
They did mention that people are probably going to drop like flies around here.
Is this war?
It had been some time since she had relied on the words of bards, she was kind of busy. However, the Burg was always a real threat. When she tried to venture there when she was younger; it earned 5 days in Elvin confinement, and then release when they had an appropriate chaperone. Stories were pretty common about the constant threat of the border villages being attacked or abandoned because of the forces of the Burg.
"Excuse me," she asked, and promptly stood up, "You aren't really going to find the pieces of this Illikorav to start assassinating notable forces from the Burg are you?" | Name: Varioyn Black
Age: 25
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Appearance: He stands at an above average human height of 6'2, he is lengthy and slimmer although has notable muscle from his life training to be a hunter. Although he is light hearted, he keeps a serious persona while on a hunt.
Backstory: Varioyn was born in Drovia into a softly wealthy family, they treated him well, although his mother was young, she could not support herself and a child, so reluctantly one night, as the moon shined blankly along the stone walls, he was given to the Hunters guild, and raised by a young man named Ash. Who would only a decade later become the Headmaster of the Guild. At a young age Varioyn was thought to be a natural at what the guild did, he killed his first dear at 7, his first bear at 10, by the time he was 14 he mastered the art of sword play and speed of the bow. Ash held him back from joining the ranks officially until his 14th birthday in fear that he would lose him to the hunt. As Ash loved Varioyn as his own blood, he was the only son that he ever had, and Ash was Varioyn's only parent. His past swept under what the present was. On his 14th birthday he officially was to become part of the ranks, and did what most low ranking hunters had, hunted food for local butcheries. He grew quickly Ash felt, and when he turned 21 he was promoted to a True Hunter. He resides in training new hunters and carrying out the A ranked hunts, the most dangerous.
Personality: Varioyn is kind, and forgiving until crossed or loved ones hurt, his guild is his family and he does not shy away from vengeance. He has a sense of humor and is normally favored over the other instructors.
Weapon skill/choice: Bow, dual long swords/ daggers
Notable ability: Increased senses, Great at tracking and stealth, a natural born hunter.
Other info: I keep things in CS shorter, because I like reviling things about the character through the narrative. |
8,419 | 230 | 14 | 2,764 | 11 | (Meshiro dragged his nose along his sleeve while gazing around the room before taking a seat. Legs swinging, the lad used his staff to scratch his head. Meshiro looked in the direction of Ravenroot with his eyes squinting and began to think inside his head.)
Mind-reading magic, eh? Reminds me of my aura sensing, but that's not possible to read minds. Must be some kind of bluff.
Well.. Hey there, look over here. If ya can read minds, then say the numbers '1-5-6-7' outloud. Yah yeah, that'll stump em'.
"Teeheheha.." | Name: Meshiro
Age: "13" - (Though in reality, is a much greater age than this.)
Gender: Male
Race: Human.. ish ;)
Appearance: He's a small boy with a stature of 5'5 weighing at 113 pounds. Being a child prodigy, he excels mentally and needn't rely on his physical strength. He has lavender eyes which are curtained by lengthy locks of silver hair which is typically tucked under a quite large, black wizardly hat ornamented by a gold buckle, enormous goggles, and large rubies. He is constantly garbed in a ratty, dark blue robe that opens up to a plain, white tunic tucked neatly into brown trousers accompanied by ordinary black boots.
Backstory: A once ecstatic child prodigy & accomplished student at a scholar training school of Penrith. He then learned the truth, and the corrupt society hidden under the scrolls and books that he was decoding day by day, and so set off to pursue a dream of treasure hunting instead, thus becoming a vagabond - He found a golden stave which had a sapphire jewel set in its body in the corpse of a unusually large creature. The staff took his mana and in return allowed him to control water to a certain extent. Since then, he been a practioneer of magic and grew in strength over the time spent as a mercenary.
Personality: Eccentric, impulsive, with a degree of timidity, yet a keen sense of justice!
Weapon skill/choice: A golden staff with a blue sapphire on top of it. Nothing more & nothing less....
Weapon picture: N/A :(
Notable ability: He is a novice mage who has mastered the art & science of water manipulation, and only recently began to practice very minor fire magic. Physically he lacks the power to melee. However, he can detect auras and thus dodge incoming attacks by reading said auras, but he's not so quick on his feet... FURTHERMORE, he has the power to sprout wings of mana that can be used offensively & defensively.
Other Info: He suffers from narcolepsy, has trouble controlling his ridiculously large mana pool, & uses a very weird accent. |
8,420 | 230 | 15 | 1,836 | 2,633 | Yes sir. Javier nodded. He then took steps backwards with a small bow, as respect, and then proceeded to walk towards the back door to head for the training yard without having to pass through the mass of new blood present. He did pass by Volric though, before he was called, and he bowed his head to him as a greeting. He highly respected the arc mage. He had the power to read minds and not succumb to the amount of voices he hears in his head and he was able to discern it. That is quite challenging considering the amount of people in the hall right now, thinking about the test.
The white haired male continued outside and towards the training yard. There were others already preparing the yard for the coming of the new bloods. He greeted them with a nod and then began getting to work, or whatever the lead ordered him to do. It only took a few minutes, to be honest, given how fast everyone seemed to be going. And with that, everything was prepared for the physical test. This brings back memories. What he lacked for the first test, he made up tenfold with this one. He wasn't exactly praised but there was that look that they'll give you that says that you did well. He then made his way to the nearest tree and climbed up with no difficulty. He perched atop a branch, his eyes glued to where the new bloods would be after they come there. | Name: Javier Illivis
Age: 30
Gender: Male
Race: Elf
Appearance: Javier stands at a small height of 5'5", or at least small by his race and gender's average height. Although this doesn't really bother him. He has white hair and has dull grey eyes, a result from some sort of abnormal genes from his parents but he couldn't be too sure. From his chin and downwards, he has a white tattoo that was placed on him when he was just a young boy. While he isn't "body-builder" muscular, he has visible muscles thanks to the constant training he had to undergo in the guild and before. In jobs, he would usually wear light armor, given that he is an assassin, . He would often carry two long and slim daggers with him, hidden in his person. A black bow may be found in his hands at times, but not too often. When he's not on a job though, he would often be seen in a beige shirt, pants, combat boots and black gloves.
Backstory: Abandoned when he was just an infant, Javier never knew his parents. He was picked up by the leader of a mercenary guild after finding the poor boy abandoned in the streets. It was more of finding another member than out of pity though. That's why Javier grew up with close to no morals at all except for being loyal and being dedicated to something you want to do. By the time that he was five, he was already taught things he had to know to live, like reading, writing and talking. By the time he was six, though, he was already taught how to wield a knife. As he grew older, the training just got progressively harder. He was placed under the care of Ovir, an assassin, to teach him what needs to be done as an apprentice of the guild.
Training was harsh but Javier endured. By the time he was eleven, he had already killed over ten people and infiltrated over sixteen houses. He murders in cold-blood. He has also felt like the guild is his family. While they're not exactly the caring type, they're fun to be around. This was also the time he had gained his tattoo since he is now seen as a full fledged member of the guild and not an apprentice.
A year later, however, King Darion had caught them and put everyone on trial. However, upon seeing Javier, a young teen at that time, he felt pity. Being the good king he is, he released the young man. But not without something in exchange. He asked if Javier was willing to join the Hunters. Javier was initially reluctant to accept since he is already part of a guild but King Darion mentioned that they were on death row. He will not have a place to live in anymore. Javier was convinced soon after that and decided to swear loyalty to King Darion and the Hunters.
Ever since joining up with the Hunters, his views on how he could live his life had changed. They were a bunch who truly cared for the kingdom, apparently. Although it did nothing to change his views on a life. That was the sad and harsh reality. But most did not mind since he had become more easygoing and fun to be around. He has skills too so that was a bonus for them. When he turned twenty, he started to actively learn Dark Magic. Not necromancy or blood magic or any of those stuff. He wants to bend the shadows to his will. Currently, he is able to cloak himself with darkness so that he will have a higher chance of sneaking around.
Personality: Javier is a generally passive guy when it comes to insults and criticisms. He would often be seen just smiling or laughing it off. It's more like he just couldn't care less of what others think of him. Although he does welcome criticism, especially in his work, skills, abilities so that he can further improve himself. He's a pretty nice guy and helpful as well. He's a pretty chill guy, often seen relaxing when not on a job. While he is dedicated to his job as a Hunter, he does love his rest times too. He adores children in his off time and spends time playing with them, given that they don't mind playing with an elf.
Javier is a cold-blooded killer. He feels nothing when he slips a knife into someone else's body. He feels nothing when blood is sprayed all over the ground. He feels nothing when they don't move. That's the type of killer Javier has been molded to become, and he honestly doesn't mind it. Since he is dedicated to his work, it just gives him an advantage over a lot of people. He doesn't hesitate to end someone's life for the sake of his job. He doesn't even care if it's right or not. He also doesn't care too much if something close to him dies since he knows everyone will die eventually.
Weapon skill/choice: Daggers, Bow, Dark Magic (basic)
Weapon picture:
Notable ability: An expert in stealth, knows basic dark magic
"A job is a job. An order is an order. Do it or die." - Master Ovir
"People eventually die anyway, so why should I care if someone dies?" - Javier Illivis
"Loyalty and Devotion. No mercy and remorse." - Mercenary Guild saying. |
8,421 | 230 | 16 | 242 | 1,238 | The Sviirog had been, of course, completely unprepared for a test of knowledge, and she wasn't entirely sure how relevant existing knowledge was to the job. But she had answered regardless - taking full advantage of her obsidian goggles and stature to 'borrow' the most common answers from other applicants without being easily caught.
It had been a fairly straightforward series of questions, and none of them required eloquent answers, which made the cheating considerably easier. One-word answers were simple, although Kyik didn't quite comprehend the concepts of Titans or Born of Ash. Indeed, her and her people were completely oblivious to the folklore of the surface dwellers, and had never even bothered to question where they had come from in the first place.
When she handed in her paper, though, despite having stolen her answers from others, she was confident that she had passed. Information gathering was an important skill for any sort of 'hunter' regardless of the type. The third question, though, rang in her mind all the way through to the next segment of the examination. What city must you never step foot in, for it is the source of all death and darkness?, she had been asked - and though the written answer was The Burg, it made very little sense to her. Death and darkness were everywhere - no city had exclusive claim over either, and the framing of 'darkness' as a bad thing seemed a little bit insensitive to her cavern-dwelling mind.
Mentions of mind-reading were made, and she wasn't bothered in the slightest at the concept of the invasion of privacy. It wasn't as though she had anything to hide about herself, after all - and she wanted to know if the Arc-Mage were capable of reading intentions and emotions rather than just thought words.
She responded to Varioyn's statements with a shrug, and handed in her paper before moving toward the door. It would be interesting to see how these sun-walking people would perform in the physical tests. | A race of humanoids found in only the deepest, darkest pits of the earth, where not even the Kiln dare to delve. Their origin is, like the caverns they inhabit, muddy and hidden - and it's suggested by those few who have ever encountered them that they were either created alongside the Elves, or alongside Men - or are a twisted version of either that has long since disappeared from the blessings of the sun.
They only rarely venture out of the depths of the earth, and typically turn back and go home upon reaching the caverns, mines, and forges of the Kiln, as the colder air towards the surface greatly bothers them. No Sviirog cities are known to exist, as their culture revolves around small familial groups tucked away within the cramped confines of their homes, where they farm rock-hard fungi and deep ponds of foul bacterial slimes.
They are extremely tall and spindly, standing at seven feet tall. They appear to almost be batlike - universally albino, with yellow or pink eyes, enormous lightly furred ears, and razor sharp teeth. Dim bioluminescent splotches or stripes criss-cross across their skin all the way across their bodies, to provide the minimal light needed to see in the deepest places of the world. Surface-dwelling Sviirog wear obsidian-lensed goggles to protect their eyes from the blinding sun.
Those Sviirog who walk the surface are considered by their kin to be severely and incurably mentally ill, and can never again return to their homes - and, for the most part, they wouldn't want to return in the first place. They are silent and clever, and above ground they are recognized as competent pyromancers and assassins.
Note: Though gifted with the ability to see with absolutely no light sources whatsoever, they do not see colors the same way as other races do. This leads to the amusing ability to easily tell the difference between different kinds of otherwise identical minerals, fungi, and grasses, while simultaneously not being able to tell the difference between an orange piece of cloth or a purple one.
Kyik'thai Tvikiir
(or Kyik, for those with trouble pronouncing it)
Age: 26
Gender: F
Race: Sviirog
Appearance:
Kyik stands at an imposing 7'3" - a fair bit taller than the average Sviirog, and weighs in at 105 lbs, giving her a twiglike, fiendish look, almost like a twisted elf. Her large, angular eyes are a shade of near-lilac pink, though she always keeps them hidden beneath Kiln-made obsidian welding goggles. Like most Sviirog, her hair is thin, white, and scraggly - and she keeps it in a ponytail to keep it from drawing any attention. Massive batlike ears are coated with very fine snow-white fuzz, peaked neatly at the tips - and it's obvious that she takes quite good care of them. For the Sviirog, ear care is vastly more important than hair care, after all.
A ghost of a glow can be seen on her skin in a tiger-stripe pattern all across her body and face - faint enough that it's only properly visible for those with near perfect nightvision in a dark room.
In terms of clothing, she is often bundled up in very heavy cloaks or coats at all times, very few of which actually fit her, and all of which clash horribly with one anothers' colors. Beneath the mountains of warming fabric, she wears sturdy yet flexible dark stone green leather armor over a matching skintight leather suit. She often wears soft fur earmuffs to protect from the loud winds and speech of the surface. A green-and-red plaid flat cap sits atop her head, between her massive ears.
Backstory:
The Tvikiir clan, comprised of no more than ten Sviirog, was a well respected family within the circle of caverns four kilometers beneath Caragosh. Their depth was an indicator of their status, as the deeper caves provided the most heat and moisture - vital for fungus and slime farming - as well as access to the best ore veins. Her fathers were miners by trade, and her mothers tended to the sludge pools - sustaining themselves by trading materials and food further up the caverns to those closer to the surface.
As a Sviirog of breeding age, she was expected to help replenish the populations of the other clans to prevent inbreeding and a rapid population - and she did her duty as well as any other Sviirog. Most Sviirog have an average of five children throughout their lifetime, each by different sets of parents, and blood ties are generally forgotten in favor of clan and guardian - though most don't survive to adulthood, thanks to the harsh living conditions in the depths of the earth. She neither knows nor cares if her spawn are still alive.
By 23, having done her duty to her people, Kyik felt restless and unsatisfied with a life of watching pond scum reproduce, and sought out alternate ways to make herself useful - from basic medicine, to spectacularly failed attempts at inventing new tools (the Sviirog are, despite being clever earth-dwellers like the Dwarves/Kiln, not well suited to engineering). At 25, she heard a rumor from one of the surfaceward clan traders that there were strange, tiny creatures that go on two legs far, far above them, where the air was biting cold and foul to the nose - and she heard that they were masters of crafts the Sviirog didn't even have a name for.
She said her goodbyes to her clan, who all told her that she would be back within the year, but didn't object to her leaving. They figured she would be sickened by the uninhabitable air and the poor food up above, and would come running back home when she grew tired of it. They were wrong.
It took almost four months for her to climb all the way from the caverns, on account of the incredibly treacherous vertical ascents and the rather nasty wildlife that kept the Kiln from going any deeper than they already had - but she eventually reached one of the mine shafts near Caragosh. One Kiln saw her, and she saw the Kiln - before both immediately scurried back down their respective holes in fear. She crawled back out, and the Kiln had returned - this time, with a blanket and a lantern, which burned her eyes horribly. The two couldn't understand eachothers' language, but after some time, they came to an understanding, and she continued on her journey upwards, now in possession of clothing and a set of welding goggles.
Kyik cannot remember what adventures she had between meeting the first Kiln and arriving on the surface - but she found herself with no nonviolent skills, no home, and only the faintest idea of the language of the surface dwellers - and she was very, very cold. Much of her time was spent trying to blend in with the locals (and failing miserably), or hunting the local wildlife for food, as the only sustenance that kept her strength up was meat.
Her 26th birthday has recently passed, and with it, she has learned of a place where she may find work, and thus life: the Hunters' Guild.
Personality:
Borderline alien.
Sviirog culture is so far removed from surface culture that it is difficult to identify specific personality traits amidst the tribalism and strangeness, but others have described her from the viewpoint of surface dwellers. Here's what they've had to say.
She is fiercely proud of her heritage and family, and if successfully insulted (in such a manner that she understands it to be an insult, and it actually offends her Sviirog nature), she has been known to brawl viciously. She's surprisingly talkative for someone who only half-understands the local language, and often attempts to joke, though the translation from Sviirog to the common tongue usually causes it to fall flat. She has begun taking a strong interest in puns, though, which can be a little bit annoying at times.
She values courtesy, and hates magic being performed too closeby - the otherworldly heat and vibrations of casting makes her very uncomfortable.
She values life much less than most and doesn't think much about morality when accepting jobs.
Although it hasn't been confirmed, there have been reports of small fires spreading in every town she has visited while she was present. Possible minor arsonist.
She appears to be very, very clever and pragmatic - though she has more or less no surface education.
Weapon skill/choice: Rows upon rows of razor-sharp teeth. She is very good at biting things. Failing that, she can and will use a dagger, but that's pushing it. She feels awkward with a weapon in her hands, and prefers to use her natural equipment.
Notable abilities: Completely untrained natural pyromancer. Like most Sviirog, she is capable of producing flames at any point within twenty meters of her body, but unlike most Sviirog, she never focused on developing this skill - and, as such, is only able to make the equivalent of a large candle flame, a loud popping noise, or a bright flash of light.
The time she didn't spend on learning fire magicks, however, was spent on learning to climb and explore the caverns without attracting the attention of other Sviirog or the local vicious beasts. She can nearly silently scale any porous surface the fine hairs in her skin can take hold of.
Sviirog strength and agility permits her to contort herself into otherwise unthinkable positions, making her motions very difficult to predict in combat.
Other Info: Odd-color vision, perfect darkvision. Incredibly fine hearing, but can be very easily incapacitated by loud noises if not wearing hearing protection. |
8,422 | 230 | 17 | 256 | 2,262 | Privy followed the white-haired man out into a training field, with Cliff staying close. One Privy actually got a good look at the training field, he whistled with a tone of being impressed. It was one tidy and badass field, perfectly suited for Privy to train in his magical skills, as well as the other new guys to try and
"Daaaamn. Cliff, you like how this training field looks?"
"I mean not really, since you know... pacifism..."
"I mean still though, it's rather nice."
Privy removed his top hat, as he casted a single random spell.
A large claw of a shadowy material comes out of the ground and slashes a dummy on the training field, opening it and pouring straw around it.
"Eyyy I still got it!"
"Damn, that was a new trick." | Name: Jameson Privy
Age: 36 (Humanly speaking)
Gender: Male
Race: Etlocks
Appearance: Jameson is a younger Etlocks man, cursed with dwarfism so he's about 3'11". His facial features include a large black beard, coming down to the bottom of his neck, he wears a top hat, and has a long tattoo on the side of his face. His body structure is of course, short, but it's very resilient from damage. He is built like a truck, and made to last a while. His clothing includes a hooded cloak atop a button-up white shirt, and a pair of khaki trousers.
Privy was rather doomed from the start, as he was born very short and was ridiculed by any and all of his companions and colleagues. The first day of school was tough when you're a short kid, and nobody really liked how he was so secretive and shy. This continued for the man until he reached a maturation point, where he discovered that he can cast his fair share of magic. This enlightened his life and he went to learn how to cast more and more spells, eventually leading to recognition as a mage. Unfortunately, his luck ran out when he started trying to cast certain spells and ended up casting a different spell (One time he tried freezing a tree and ended up igniting it). While this would probably depress some magic users, Privy was rather excited about it, and began to start taking a stage name and becoming a children's entertainer, putting on magic shows and making kids laugh. It was fun for a long time, and eventually he caught wind of the Hunters Guild accepting new recruits, and eagerly went to go join and help kill things as the great magician he was destined to be.
Personality: Privy speaks in a Russian accent, and enjoys making people laugh and smile. He doesn't like to think his disability is a weakness, rather as a motivator for his success in the future. He is also friends with an war battle axe.
Weapon skill/choice: He has an enchanted war axe, but he never uses it. He instead likes to use his fists as his main weapons.
This is a sentient war axe named Cliff, and is a very strict pacifist. It has the ability to speak on it's own will, and also float around on it's own will as well, but that's literally it.
Notable ability: Privy is a self-proclaimed Magician. As stated before, Privy has become a master of magic, but has lost the ability to accurately predict his spells when he casts them, so it's sort of random. He knows one spell that he can accurately cast on his own, and that is a defensive armor spell, and is casted when Privy exclaims he is armoring up.
Other Info: Cliff the war axe and Privy have been buds for the longest time, and as such are inseparable. |
8,423 | 230 | 18 | 2,251 | 16 | Orac heard Varioyn talk about the training field and thought to himself "Another challenge right up my street, I can't wait for this." He started to walk outside with the group trailing somewhere in the middle of the collection.
As soon as he reached the outside Orac was massively impressed with the facilities and structures surrounding him and he could clearly see he was going to have to put on a show or so he thought.
"Damn this is real nice, look at all these open spaces and the fields behind it just set it off perfectly, it isn't very often I am blown away but WOW!."
The huddle started forming in to something that looked like a line however a little crooked. You could tell there was an atmosphere of nervousness in the air. | Name: ORAC
Age:25
Gender:MALE
Race: Elves
Appearance: Average body type, non toned, 5ft11, white hair, tattoo left hand and behind left ear.
Hooded jacket, canvas trousers (tattered) scarf around neck and a backpack.
Backstory: Orac was left to fend for himself at the tender age of 4 in Lothadia to be found by an elder elf and raised as a master bowman and assassin.
Personality: Orac comes across as a cocky individual yet deep down has insecurity's. Orac will always try and talk himself out of a situation first before fighting but once it evolves to a battle is second to non.
Weapon skill/choice: Bow and arrow.
Notable ability Stealthy, fast paced and extremely agile. Massive ability with a bow and arrow. Sniping with a bow is Orac's specialist skill. |
8,424 | 230 | 19 | 821 | 1,017 | The physical test, this was where people were quick to jump to conclusions. Amalay may have been unsure about the mental test until the questions were asked, but this was the challenge she had been through and failed before. Some would test on physical ability, thinking that strength, speed, and agility were the only factors to create a skilled warrior. These often came in an obstacle course, and she scored very well on. Others would target sheer lethal accuracy and the number of killing blows. They would grade on a curve usually in a series of sparring duels. These she almost always failed. Not that she was so easily defeated, but rarely did these tests accept climbing into the rafters and waiting for the opponent to got so bored that they quit to count as a victory. Most duel tests were timed and had imaginary boundaries that made it almost impossible for Amalay to shine.
One thing was for sure, this test was not about to be the classic guessing game of most recruiters. For one thing very few recruiters included a life lesson with much of anything. They were silent as to the success, failure, or true intent of the testing that they applied. The other reason was the fact that there were no arch mages screening applicants to protect merchant caravans (for some strange reason.) While a nervous knot began to well up, these unknowns were strangely comforting to Amalay, and the churning bowels settled down into peace. They did things differently here, and she was most certainly different.
Glancing around she sized up the opponents. A number of those who signed up the previous day were nowhere to be seen. Either they chickened out, were horridly late (by like half of a day) or were only doing it for some other reason than to join the Hunters. She really didn't understand the sort. Nevertheless, it was a rather large number of faces that could likely all be opponents. The memories of a fox-hunt ran through her mind... or at least that is what she called it when 200 raiders were frantically chasing only her through the forest. The memory brought a smile to her lips as she recalled the frustrated growls of anger as they boiled over in a foolhardy murderous rage. Good times.
Then a face stood out, well not exactly. It was a face connected to a head to a body with arms and legs and such, and it didn't really stand out, it blended in behind the others. However, it was familiar as the ground. Grol. Though muscular and tall, he could go unnoticed in a tavern full of children. He had a way of using chaos, architecture, and shadow to make your eye pass right past him. He had been doing so for so long that it was habit. Amalay had apparently had a habit too to search those places for the Etlock's familiar face, usually to make small talk with him. She raced over, her garments (normally earth tones) flipped and fluttered turning brilliant violets and purple that drew attention as they billowed in the wind and her movement. It captured the attention of all but the most introspective or least observant. No, it wasn't magic, simply the underside of the many layers that had been stitched together. As soon as she stopped, they flopped back to sedate.
"Grol, you old rug, looks like I've tripped over you again," she smiled, "I thought we agreed to go our separate ways?"
She scratched her wrist without a thought, but it was visible the shackle scars on her wrists were still healing.
Good, I can help him out. | Amalaycolor=9900ff color=ffc000Age: 40 Gender: Female Race: Elf
Dark, for an elf, not particularly shapely or attractive, actually looks remarkably normal. Her ears stick out prominently, while most elves think it silly looking, she doesn't really care. She often has a somewhat grim, mischievous, and gleefully dangerous edge to her. Keeps her black hair in a que. Her clothing usually is leather or brown with a rich and vibrant spectrum of violets, purples, and indigos to compliment them. These are sewn to flare when moving but conceal the brilliance when standing still.
The forest was neither so rich nor so predominant. It was the Elves and their disgust of bloodshed that made it as we find it today. The enemies that once swarmed Lothadid were still quite alive, simply living the remainder of their existence transfigured into trees, owls, deer, and squirrels. This was the old way, the way before innocence had vanished, and before the Elves had to accommodate their lives with fur and flesh... before the Great War. It was called Somnance, and now was all but an obscure practice. Amalay’s family were some of the remnant that clung to the old ways.
Born odd and, though raised as normally as possible, she matured into an odd young woman. She was always on the fringe of breaching the social moraes, and never one to play politics. Predominant in her mind was an old philosophy of innocence that she insists that the Elves have since lost. This lead to alienation even in one of the most forgiving and accepting societies in the world. The Elves mostly believed that their ignorance was not a trait of pride, and had adapted the views of the Humans to compensate for it. Amalay thrived off of her isolation and opposition. One major gripe was the hunting of game (instead of a vegetarian and insectivorous diet) as well as the fact that they peaceably lived alongside of thousands of transfigured enemies without any form of conflict, insisting that there was no need for violence whatsoever. The Elves did not accept her poor attempts at persuasion and flat out accusations.
With disinterest in a “normal” life and being locked into nothing but if she stayed in her home, Amalay left the forest, searching for people who would listen. She found no such safe-haven. The rest of the world was even more close minded than the Elves.
She spent a number of years as a rover and doing odd jobs. Eventually she was hired by a traveling merchant as a guide and again as a mercenary. The comradely of these jobs was seriously lacking since most other mercenaries were borderline criminals and unwholesome folk with murderous jobs that they preferred over civil society. Yet it was good pay and a reason to travel. There was one Etlock (by the name of Grol Lak) in particular that drove her crazy, standing in opposition on a number of issues and opinions that Amalay felt strongly about. It wouldn't have been so bad if he wasn't hired on for just about every job that she was.
It turned out that when danger caught the travelers off guard or situations looked bleak that most of the mercenaries showed their true nature as cowards and traitors. These conflicts drove Amalay and Grol together as some of the only trustworthy people the other knew. While annoying each other greatly, but being present whenever they needed it, this blossomed into a somewhat sibling-like relationship.
Eventually things came to a head when a band of mercenaries brought the two of them on board for escorting yet another merchant caravan. This, however turned out to be a massive betrayal. Upon waking from a drugged stupor, found that everyone had been sold as slaves with the exception of the band of mercenaries that had hired them. Once they freed themselves and overpowered the slavers, Amalay and Grol called it quits as mercenaries and joined the much more trustworthy (if not as well traveled or well paid) Hunters.
Personality: Eclectic tastes, Weird, Mischievous, Humble
Innocent, kind, and playful; she comes across rather child-like.
However, she has an accusatory edge and a thorough level of self-righteousness.
She very impulsive.
People assume that there isn’t much practical information rolling around her head, but she has mastery over her own obscure studies.
Peaceful, she finds dismembering and killing enemies low, even for those who had it coming.
Weapon Skill/choice: Staff with a fern frond in the end. It can be configured to entangle, crush, slash, or pierce.
Notable Abilities:
Amalay is incredibly fast and nimble. When coupled with her menial mental discipline, it makes her unfit to function as a fighter. Even so, she is very difficult to strike due to her cunning and nimbleness. Her adeptness of body makes her a fantastic climber, acrobat, gymnast, sprinter, and also difficult to restrain or bind. She has learned how to compliment this with a good sense of balance as well as contortions and swimming, enabling her to navigate places that people normally consider to be impossible.
These boots enable her to jump several stories high, and prevent breaking bones upon landing. (No, she's not a gummy bear, think of Jedi Force Jump.) While they can be used as many times as the wearer wishes, after being disoriented upon landing, and finding a safe path to jump, and finally coupled with intentional use, this makes for it impractical to use rapidly. Likewise, one of these jumps requires the effort of a normal jump, therefore bouncing down a road is particularly tiring.
(Somnance is a special effect.) Elves can learn how to transfigure opponents into harmless indigenous life when an opponent is defeated, and it acts much like a residual electrical charge instead of injury. This really doesn’t change anything in the mechanics of the game, the charge is healed in the same amount of time it takes someone to heal naturally, and are only transfigured when fully out of the picture. So, instead of a corpse left behind, is a racoon or a tree or other harmless form of life. |
8,425 | 230 | 20 | 1,476 | 371 | It was always like trying to shake the flank of a horse when greeting Grol. The span of time she spent in Human lands had made her forget just how massive the Etlock actually was. On long journeys, he seemed just about her size, sure a little taller and way WAY heavier, but for the most part just a person. Now he felt like a great pine was lowering a branch from its lofty height to welcome her.
"So, have you started your panic session yet? You're wondering if you don't make it then your entire life will be ruined. Where will you get money for food? You're going to have to go back to cleaning dishes. I mean, look at these people, sure they might not be as strong as you, but they could be fast or skilled or both, and it could make you look like an archery target on an Elvin marksmanship range. Maybe everybody here has magic, except for you Grol. I'm pretty sure that's it." Each phrase added to the intensity and doubts and amplified and amplified and amplified. Abruptly she sputtered out a massive raspberry at the concept of terrifying her counterpart, and burst out with a few laughs.
She was cut off by noticing Orac who stood nearby. "Oh my gosh, you are the last person I expected to see here! How have you been? Just look at how much you've grown." Amalay clapped a hand on Orac's shoulder "It's been forever! Literally, I have never seen you before, how have you been?"
Grol had witnessed this before. It was Amalay's way of getting to know other recruits. Usually people were so weirded out by her being... well... her, that they made sure to avoid the crazy lady the rest of the job. She never seemed to notice. However, to Grol there was a big pending, "hey why don't you crawl out of your shell" request waiting to be nagged into his ear.
To say that there was method to her madness was true... sort of... if you took out the whole "method" part. Perhaps she was blundering into it, or perhaps she was just a refreshing spirit. One way or another, she diffused the performance nerves of those dreading the pending judgement. It freed up brain power and allowed them to focus or be distracted. To Amalay, she did not fear testing at all, because she was raised without them... or I should say without the human approach to testing. Elves thought of testing as refining precious metals (which holds the same name), melting out all of the impurities. It was ALWAYS followed by revelation and tons of studies and practice as well as new material regardless of the outcome. Human testing came with a pass or fail, those who passed were glorified with greater knowledge while those who failed received scrutiny and almost as a punishment had to mill over their failures to get their affairs in order before they could be judged yet again. Though she had swirled around in different cultures for longer than most recruits had been alive, this preconception had never quite been bludgeoned out of her. | Name: Varioyn Black
Age: 25
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Appearance: He stands at an above average human height of 6'2, he is lengthy and slimmer although has notable muscle from his life training to be a hunter. Although he is light hearted, he keeps a serious persona while on a hunt.
Backstory: Varioyn was born in Drovia into a softly wealthy family, they treated him well, although his mother was young, she could not support herself and a child, so reluctantly one night, as the moon shined blankly along the stone walls, he was given to the Hunters guild, and raised by a young man named Ash. Who would only a decade later become the Headmaster of the Guild. At a young age Varioyn was thought to be a natural at what the guild did, he killed his first dear at 7, his first bear at 10, by the time he was 14 he mastered the art of sword play and speed of the bow. Ash held him back from joining the ranks officially until his 14th birthday in fear that he would lose him to the hunt. As Ash loved Varioyn as his own blood, he was the only son that he ever had, and Ash was Varioyn's only parent. His past swept under what the present was. On his 14th birthday he officially was to become part of the ranks, and did what most low ranking hunters had, hunted food for local butcheries. He grew quickly Ash felt, and when he turned 21 he was promoted to a True Hunter. He resides in training new hunters and carrying out the A ranked hunts, the most dangerous.
Personality: Varioyn is kind, and forgiving until crossed or loved ones hurt, his guild is his family and he does not shy away from vengeance. He has a sense of humor and is normally favored over the other instructors.
Weapon skill/choice: Bow, dual long swords/ daggers
Notable ability: Increased senses, Great at tracking and stealth, a natural born hunter.
Other info: I keep things in CS shorter, because I like reviling things about the character through the narrative. |
8,426 | 230 | 21 | 242 | 1,238 | Stand back and observe.
The display of the beast so easily defeating the first contender put Kyik'thai a little bit on edge - magic was clearly a part of the test as well, and she didn't know much about it, although she could see the lingering heat and disturbed air of the trap rune all the way from where she stood in the back of the crowd. The familiar hadn't put forth anything even vaguely resembling effort in its first match. Curiosity pulled at her, and she felt the ghost of an urge to enter the challenge immediately, now aware that there was slightly more to it than it had seemed.
Satisfying her curiosity wasn't worth the (admittedly minimal) risk yet, though. She would wait for some others to go as well. Perhaps trying to meet someone and hear their thoughts would be a good idea as well, though the thought of trying to talk to somebody was a bit intimidating, after her verbal slipup at the initial sign-in. It would have to be someone relatively non-threatening.
Kyik'thai scanned the crowd. The enormous Etlock and the Elf seemed as though they would pass the physical test easily, but she wasn't certain if she felt up to the task of greeting an enormous brute. Then again, though, if she wanted to guarantee her success, she needed a variety of perspectives on her side. A short judgment on the worth of information vs. the value of dignity later, and she was shoving her way through the significantly thinner crowd towards Grol and Amalay...
...only to very trip over what was quite possibly the smallest grown person she had ever seen (or rather, in this case, failed to see). The thought that a person could be anything under 4'10" had never occurred to her, and Jameson Privy was almost a full foot beneath that. Her powers of observation had failed miserably in the blazing light of day, amidst the noise of the event, and it certainly didn't help that she was nearly twice his height. At least the mountain of mismatched cloaks and coats softened the impact.
"Kvecht! Sorry, sorry! I saw you not!"
She extended her long-fingered, nearly skeletal hand to the dwarf in apology, ears lying flat backwards as though she were a cat being admonished by its owner. | A race of humanoids found in only the deepest, darkest pits of the earth, where not even the Kiln dare to delve. Their origin is, like the caverns they inhabit, muddy and hidden - and it's suggested by those few who have ever encountered them that they were either created alongside the Elves, or alongside Men - or are a twisted version of either that has long since disappeared from the blessings of the sun.
They only rarely venture out of the depths of the earth, and typically turn back and go home upon reaching the caverns, mines, and forges of the Kiln, as the colder air towards the surface greatly bothers them. No Sviirog cities are known to exist, as their culture revolves around small familial groups tucked away within the cramped confines of their homes, where they farm rock-hard fungi and deep ponds of foul bacterial slimes.
They are extremely tall and spindly, standing at seven feet tall. They appear to almost be batlike - universally albino, with yellow or pink eyes, enormous lightly furred ears, and razor sharp teeth. Dim bioluminescent splotches or stripes criss-cross across their skin all the way across their bodies, to provide the minimal light needed to see in the deepest places of the world. Surface-dwelling Sviirog wear obsidian-lensed goggles to protect their eyes from the blinding sun.
Those Sviirog who walk the surface are considered by their kin to be severely and incurably mentally ill, and can never again return to their homes - and, for the most part, they wouldn't want to return in the first place. They are silent and clever, and above ground they are recognized as competent pyromancers and assassins.
Note: Though gifted with the ability to see with absolutely no light sources whatsoever, they do not see colors the same way as other races do. This leads to the amusing ability to easily tell the difference between different kinds of otherwise identical minerals, fungi, and grasses, while simultaneously not being able to tell the difference between an orange piece of cloth or a purple one.
Kyik'thai Tvikiir
(or Kyik, for those with trouble pronouncing it)
Age: 26
Gender: F
Race: Sviirog
Appearance:
Kyik stands at an imposing 7'3" - a fair bit taller than the average Sviirog, and weighs in at 105 lbs, giving her a twiglike, fiendish look, almost like a twisted elf. Her large, angular eyes are a shade of near-lilac pink, though she always keeps them hidden beneath Kiln-made obsidian welding goggles. Like most Sviirog, her hair is thin, white, and scraggly - and she keeps it in a ponytail to keep it from drawing any attention. Massive batlike ears are coated with very fine snow-white fuzz, peaked neatly at the tips - and it's obvious that she takes quite good care of them. For the Sviirog, ear care is vastly more important than hair care, after all.
A ghost of a glow can be seen on her skin in a tiger-stripe pattern all across her body and face - faint enough that it's only properly visible for those with near perfect nightvision in a dark room.
In terms of clothing, she is often bundled up in very heavy cloaks or coats at all times, very few of which actually fit her, and all of which clash horribly with one anothers' colors. Beneath the mountains of warming fabric, she wears sturdy yet flexible dark stone green leather armor over a matching skintight leather suit. She often wears soft fur earmuffs to protect from the loud winds and speech of the surface. A green-and-red plaid flat cap sits atop her head, between her massive ears.
Backstory:
The Tvikiir clan, comprised of no more than ten Sviirog, was a well respected family within the circle of caverns four kilometers beneath Caragosh. Their depth was an indicator of their status, as the deeper caves provided the most heat and moisture - vital for fungus and slime farming - as well as access to the best ore veins. Her fathers were miners by trade, and her mothers tended to the sludge pools - sustaining themselves by trading materials and food further up the caverns to those closer to the surface.
As a Sviirog of breeding age, she was expected to help replenish the populations of the other clans to prevent inbreeding and a rapid population - and she did her duty as well as any other Sviirog. Most Sviirog have an average of five children throughout their lifetime, each by different sets of parents, and blood ties are generally forgotten in favor of clan and guardian - though most don't survive to adulthood, thanks to the harsh living conditions in the depths of the earth. She neither knows nor cares if her spawn are still alive.
By 23, having done her duty to her people, Kyik felt restless and unsatisfied with a life of watching pond scum reproduce, and sought out alternate ways to make herself useful - from basic medicine, to spectacularly failed attempts at inventing new tools (the Sviirog are, despite being clever earth-dwellers like the Dwarves/Kiln, not well suited to engineering). At 25, she heard a rumor from one of the surfaceward clan traders that there were strange, tiny creatures that go on two legs far, far above them, where the air was biting cold and foul to the nose - and she heard that they were masters of crafts the Sviirog didn't even have a name for.
She said her goodbyes to her clan, who all told her that she would be back within the year, but didn't object to her leaving. They figured she would be sickened by the uninhabitable air and the poor food up above, and would come running back home when she grew tired of it. They were wrong.
It took almost four months for her to climb all the way from the caverns, on account of the incredibly treacherous vertical ascents and the rather nasty wildlife that kept the Kiln from going any deeper than they already had - but she eventually reached one of the mine shafts near Caragosh. One Kiln saw her, and she saw the Kiln - before both immediately scurried back down their respective holes in fear. She crawled back out, and the Kiln had returned - this time, with a blanket and a lantern, which burned her eyes horribly. The two couldn't understand eachothers' language, but after some time, they came to an understanding, and she continued on her journey upwards, now in possession of clothing and a set of welding goggles.
Kyik cannot remember what adventures she had between meeting the first Kiln and arriving on the surface - but she found herself with no nonviolent skills, no home, and only the faintest idea of the language of the surface dwellers - and she was very, very cold. Much of her time was spent trying to blend in with the locals (and failing miserably), or hunting the local wildlife for food, as the only sustenance that kept her strength up was meat.
Her 26th birthday has recently passed, and with it, she has learned of a place where she may find work, and thus life: the Hunters' Guild.
Personality:
Borderline alien.
Sviirog culture is so far removed from surface culture that it is difficult to identify specific personality traits amidst the tribalism and strangeness, but others have described her from the viewpoint of surface dwellers. Here's what they've had to say.
She is fiercely proud of her heritage and family, and if successfully insulted (in such a manner that she understands it to be an insult, and it actually offends her Sviirog nature), she has been known to brawl viciously. She's surprisingly talkative for someone who only half-understands the local language, and often attempts to joke, though the translation from Sviirog to the common tongue usually causes it to fall flat. She has begun taking a strong interest in puns, though, which can be a little bit annoying at times.
She values courtesy, and hates magic being performed too closeby - the otherworldly heat and vibrations of casting makes her very uncomfortable.
She values life much less than most and doesn't think much about morality when accepting jobs.
Although it hasn't been confirmed, there have been reports of small fires spreading in every town she has visited while she was present. Possible minor arsonist.
She appears to be very, very clever and pragmatic - though she has more or less no surface education.
Weapon skill/choice: Rows upon rows of razor-sharp teeth. She is very good at biting things. Failing that, she can and will use a dagger, but that's pushing it. She feels awkward with a weapon in her hands, and prefers to use her natural equipment.
Notable abilities: Completely untrained natural pyromancer. Like most Sviirog, she is capable of producing flames at any point within twenty meters of her body, but unlike most Sviirog, she never focused on developing this skill - and, as such, is only able to make the equivalent of a large candle flame, a loud popping noise, or a bright flash of light.
The time she didn't spend on learning fire magicks, however, was spent on learning to climb and explore the caverns without attracting the attention of other Sviirog or the local vicious beasts. She can nearly silently scale any porous surface the fine hairs in her skin can take hold of.
Sviirog strength and agility permits her to contort herself into otherwise unthinkable positions, making her motions very difficult to predict in combat.
Other Info: Odd-color vision, perfect darkvision. Incredibly fine hearing, but can be very easily incapacitated by loud noises if not wearing hearing protection. |
8,427 | 230 | 22 | 1,109 | 118 | Well, it was a mind reading test so that makes more sense of the whole situation, the intellectual test seemed fairly easy, it was common knowledge. The room was full of new-bloods all trying to rack their brains around the questions. It did not take long for Nlossae to finish up the test, she did not waste her time on thinking to in depth on the questions. It did seem like an odd situation a bunch of fighters taking a test? Not to mention seeing some of their handwriting it was not going to end well for most. But now knowing that someone was reading their minds made much more sense than the paper test.
Well now everyone is headed outside for the physical test. This is probably one of the most exciting moments for Nlossae in a very long time. It was the perfect time to prove herself whether it be a test of agility, strength or skill, she was prepared for anything. Sure it required sparring, that may be a problem, she is not used to fighting nimble opponents it might be her Achilles heel. There were a lot of ways the test could go, and hopefully, the test would be something Nlossae could excel at.
The line was full of eager individuals all ready to prove themselves, each one carrying their weapon on hand prepared for the task. Each one seemed just as confident as the one next to them, confidence can be crippling in a fight. There was a conversation going on down the line but Nlossae was not interested in that right now, she was observing the training ground, trying to figure out the next test.
That was about the time that Varioyn began to speak, it seemed a little disappointing that there was not going to be a very tough challenge, at least as of what Volric seemed to be saying. Then the beast was summoned, a Demorbear! Nlossae got very excited at that moment, she spent all of her life hunting and fighting beasts. It is hard to outsmart most opponents but when the opponent is a monstrous creature it is easy to stay calm and wait for your strike.
Nlossae nearly ran up to fight right away, thinking that it would be such an easy fight! Then the young man beat her to the punch. He walked up just as confident as she was, but all of the sudden he stepped on the trap. That was the moment that the challenge changed for Nlossae, it was no longer just a simple fight with the Demorbear, but none the less she was still confident in herself.
Varioyn invited the next person to give it a try and Nlossae was ready to step up.
I’ll go next!
She chooses to follow down the same path that the young man before her took. While walking she pulled out her long sword and grasped it in both hands pointing directly at the large beast. As she made her way down, Volric waved his hand once again and the bear awoke, just like prior. The Demorbear got up to its feet and let out its demonic roar, but Nlossae did not shake. As she got close to where the trap was that the boy stepped on, she stopped moving. It was clear that she had no idea what dangers lurked past this point, and it might be the best choice not to blindly run into the minefield of traps while fighting a large bear. So instead she took a defensive stance and lifted her sword above her head while keeping the tip aimed at the bear.
The bear kept walking towards her, it was a very monstrous creation. Sure, Nlossae has hunted her whole life, but this creature was a sight to be seen. She kept calm breathing in and out, just waiting for the time to strike. The Demorbear seemed to grow tired of waiting for his opponent to do something, he scratched his dangerous claw into the dirt and began to charge. As the bear began to lunge at Nlossae she too jumped towards the beast. It was a very long beginning to a very short fight. As the beast opened its jaw to bite at the half-elf girl, she was able to shove her sword into his gaping maw. It was a very quick death for the impatient beast.
Nlossae pulled her sword out of the Demorbear as it disappeared from where it once laid slain. She looks up at Varioyn with a very large grin on her once serious face. Her personality and figure now had completely shifted, she seemed to be acting almost childlike, and very proud of what she had accomplished. After it seemed like her challenge was over she slowly exited the area and headed back to the group waiting in the line. | Name: Nlossae Qinynore
Age: 23 Gender: Female Race: Half-elf
Appearance: Nlossae stands at a steady height of 5'5", she is a little taller than most of the average female elves. She has dark brown hair that goes down to her lower shoulder blades and has deep brown eyes. Her ears look almost normal if it wasn’t for the slight peak, her ears are about the length of an elven child’s. She usually wears heavy furs or thick leather clothing she does not have civilian clothes because she does not spend much time in cities.
Backstory: During the Great War there were many tragedies that took place, all of the races were against one another seemingly out of nowhere. It was a quiet village to the East of Drovia, which was where Taanyth Qinynore was settled. Unfortunately, this is also one of the first places King Dolvirs, Royal men attacked. Taanyth was one of the many elf settlers that got captured and forced into slavery in the human city Drovia, though fighting for their lives her father was butchered by the humans. Taanyth spent the better part of her life in slavery working for her new human masters. That was until one day her master got extremely drunk and had the idea to sleep with Taanyth. This resulted in a forced pregnancy, she knew that if her master would find out about this, then he would kill her and her unborn child. So she knew she needed to escape.
Taanyth made friends with an Etlock who was hired as her masters’ guard. She explained to him the situation and he sympathized with her and agreed to get her out of the city. His name was Gukad and he was a gentle giant, it was quite easy to sneak away once he agreed to assist her. He just needed to pretend that he was just moving the merchandise which included Taanyth, they moved late in the afternoon and were questioned by very few. Gukad took Taanyth out to the West of Drovia up into the uninhabited mountains, there they worked together to build a small home for Taanyth and her child. Only a few weeks after the completion of the cabin Taanyth gave birth to a female half-elf named Nlossae.
As the years went by, Nlossae grew up in the isolated mountains. She and her mother lived alone eating what they could find. Soon Nlossae picked up hunting and became a very skilled hunter with the bow at age 10. Gukad visited the mother and daughter often and began to train Nlossae in the art of the longsword. As she grew in age she became more curious about the large castle past the mountains, once every so often she would take furs from the animals she had killed for trade. It always amazed her the giant walls made from stone and the mass amount of people in the area.
It was on one of those trips that Nlossae ran into a group of drunk guards, they saw her ears and started to mock her. Nlossae is very thin skinned and easily offended by the mockery of her heritage, so she challenged one of the guards to a duel. It did not take long for the drunk guard to fall on his butt, she soundly defeated him with little effort. She fought with something to prove and that made her dangerous. On her way out of town another guard stopped her, this one seemed much more mature, he offered her a job as a Hunter, it would pay well and give her the honor she desperately desired. Nlossae realized this is perfect, she would get to explore the world and be able to send money back to her mother. Also and maybe the most important, she would be able to prove a half-elf is just as good as everyone else.
Personality: Hot-headed and rambunctious, she fights for herself and her honor, she has no loyalty to any race or king, many might see it as a fault but she fights for what she believes is right. Though she has never killed anyone yet, she does have a great understanding of the sword and the power she holds with it. Her guard is never down and she feels like she is always being judged so she tries her hardest to prove to everyone that she is just as good, and she believes she is capable of doing anything anyone else can do.
Weapon skill/choice: She uses a bow for distance, but she prefers to use her long sword which seems to be slightly too large for her.
Notable ability: Great at tracking, sturdy footing, uses anger to her advantage |
8,428 | 230 | 23 | 2,764 | 11 | (Meshiro shoved his way to the front using his staff to bonk those in his way while using his free hand's index finger to pick his nose & then scratch his rumpus/ He'd then start thinking in his head the following.)
Let's see here... A demorbear. To be able to summon one is pretty impressive, signori. Distant from the hell hounds, and much more powerful, I learned all of this back in Penrith.
(Meshiro looked onward as the first young man was dispatched with haste, giggling gently as his devious and sadistic nature allowed him to. Such a demonic atrocity could surely lay waste to this entire rowdy bunch of people, and its battlecry was a deafening one which nearly melted his ear drums into a paste as soft as charlotte custard. What powerful taming strength.)
"Teehaha, what a fool!"
(Tsuekami continued to watch as the beast was then slain by a nimble half-blood like his self, noting the steps he should take to kill the Demorbear in his mind.)
She avoided the traps by not advancing ya ya... however I will be much moar evasive, and upfront. A demorbear could most definitely absorb flames so I'll brittle his flesh and decimate it with an intense spell of mine. Yes... I'll impress all of these primitive infid-
(Meshiro was suddenly knocked to the side by a random breeze, and hit the mud; face-first. The youngling lifted his head and cast a ray of water from his staff which sluiced his face of dirt.)
"ok." | Name: Meshiro
Age: "13" - (Though in reality, is a much greater age than this.)
Gender: Male
Race: Human.. ish ;)
Appearance: He's a small boy with a stature of 5'5 weighing at 113 pounds. Being a child prodigy, he excels mentally and needn't rely on his physical strength. He has lavender eyes which are curtained by lengthy locks of silver hair which is typically tucked under a quite large, black wizardly hat ornamented by a gold buckle, enormous goggles, and large rubies. He is constantly garbed in a ratty, dark blue robe that opens up to a plain, white tunic tucked neatly into brown trousers accompanied by ordinary black boots.
Backstory: A once ecstatic child prodigy & accomplished student at a scholar training school of Penrith. He then learned the truth, and the corrupt society hidden under the scrolls and books that he was decoding day by day, and so set off to pursue a dream of treasure hunting instead, thus becoming a vagabond - He found a golden stave which had a sapphire jewel set in its body in the corpse of a unusually large creature. The staff took his mana and in return allowed him to control water to a certain extent. Since then, he been a practioneer of magic and grew in strength over the time spent as a mercenary.
Personality: Eccentric, impulsive, with a degree of timidity, yet a keen sense of justice!
Weapon skill/choice: A golden staff with a blue sapphire on top of it. Nothing more & nothing less....
Weapon picture: N/A :(
Notable ability: He is a novice mage who has mastered the art & science of water manipulation, and only recently began to practice very minor fire magic. Physically he lacks the power to melee. However, he can detect auras and thus dodge incoming attacks by reading said auras, but he's not so quick on his feet... FURTHERMORE, he has the power to sprout wings of mana that can be used offensively & defensively.
Other Info: He suffers from narcolepsy, has trouble controlling his ridiculously large mana pool, & uses a very weird accent. |
8,429 | 230 | 24 | 1,836 | 2,633 | Javier watched as everyone poured into the training yard. He had succeeded in this part of the test considering his nimbleness and keen eyesight. Besides, he was a mercenary. Trained to kill. Trained to succeed. There was always this misconception that mercenaries were just bloodthirsty savages who charge in without a plan. They were not like that. They plan each step carefully, keep their senses open and completely destroy the opponent in a short time. Or well, that was his job at least, being an assassin and all. One failed shot can change everything. And that's why he was able to simply snipe his opponent before it could even attack. One should know their opponent's weak points, and aim for that first.
As Varioyn and Volric took the center stage, Javier shifted his attention to them. Right, there they go. A demorbear this time hm? Interesting. He swore the previous times they were tested, it was something harder. Then again, this was an open invitation to every fighter out there and not a recommendation. As Volric did say earlier, he might've underestimated them considering that some might not have been well-trained individuals who spent almost their entire life fighting.
A man confidently stepped up, brandishing his sword at the beast. The demorbear woke up and let out a bone-chilling roar only it can make. Javier quickly scanned the surroundings. There were some who were shaken, but some stood firm, almost too eagerly awaiting their turn to dance with the demon. He felt like those who were shaken wouldn't get in. Not with that kind of attitude. He looked back at the battle. Javier already picked out the traps that were littered around the battlefield. It had been part of his training as a hunter to be honest. The man, however, did not see it and stepped into one of the traps, locking him in place. And so, he was defeated by the bear.
Javier shook his head. Overconfidence won't take you too far in life. Hearing the footsteps, he looked down to see Kaylein. Ah yes, she was the one who trained him with the traps. It was a nice trade-off. He only had to be her partner for the amount of time that he will train. Of course, he had expected that she would be the one in training. How nice. "Hello there Kaylein." He greeted with a nod. While he is a friendly guy, he doesn't really start conversations. There are very few he would actively talk to, Kaylein being one of them. Perhaps it was because of the long time he had been stuck with her. Not that he minded.
Before the female could respond, however, someone else had volunteered to take on the demorbear. She was an elf. No, half-elf. He eagerly watched her fight, partly because she was a new blood and the other because she was an elf. She had not advanced towards the demorbear. Wise choice. The field was filled with rune traps so it was best to stay put. But she did not pull out a bow, but kept her stance with her longsword. Interesting. In an unfamiliar setting, it would be best to put a defensive stance. The demorbear started charging at the half-elf and was quickly decapitated with one strike.
The white haired elf smiled as he saw this. Quite an impressive show after the humiliating defeat by the earlier boy. The others were getting ideas from the half-elf's performance. This wasn't really ideal, considering that they may just use her method again and again so they can win. However, he was sure Volric would at least change the demorbear's attack patterns ever so slightly to accommodate for this. He was, however, curious if they could pull something off without any inspiration from the half-elf's display. | Name: Javier Illivis
Age: 30
Gender: Male
Race: Elf
Appearance: Javier stands at a small height of 5'5", or at least small by his race and gender's average height. Although this doesn't really bother him. He has white hair and has dull grey eyes, a result from some sort of abnormal genes from his parents but he couldn't be too sure. From his chin and downwards, he has a white tattoo that was placed on him when he was just a young boy. While he isn't "body-builder" muscular, he has visible muscles thanks to the constant training he had to undergo in the guild and before. In jobs, he would usually wear light armor, given that he is an assassin, . He would often carry two long and slim daggers with him, hidden in his person. A black bow may be found in his hands at times, but not too often. When he's not on a job though, he would often be seen in a beige shirt, pants, combat boots and black gloves.
Backstory: Abandoned when he was just an infant, Javier never knew his parents. He was picked up by the leader of a mercenary guild after finding the poor boy abandoned in the streets. It was more of finding another member than out of pity though. That's why Javier grew up with close to no morals at all except for being loyal and being dedicated to something you want to do. By the time that he was five, he was already taught things he had to know to live, like reading, writing and talking. By the time he was six, though, he was already taught how to wield a knife. As he grew older, the training just got progressively harder. He was placed under the care of Ovir, an assassin, to teach him what needs to be done as an apprentice of the guild.
Training was harsh but Javier endured. By the time he was eleven, he had already killed over ten people and infiltrated over sixteen houses. He murders in cold-blood. He has also felt like the guild is his family. While they're not exactly the caring type, they're fun to be around. This was also the time he had gained his tattoo since he is now seen as a full fledged member of the guild and not an apprentice.
A year later, however, King Darion had caught them and put everyone on trial. However, upon seeing Javier, a young teen at that time, he felt pity. Being the good king he is, he released the young man. But not without something in exchange. He asked if Javier was willing to join the Hunters. Javier was initially reluctant to accept since he is already part of a guild but King Darion mentioned that they were on death row. He will not have a place to live in anymore. Javier was convinced soon after that and decided to swear loyalty to King Darion and the Hunters.
Ever since joining up with the Hunters, his views on how he could live his life had changed. They were a bunch who truly cared for the kingdom, apparently. Although it did nothing to change his views on a life. That was the sad and harsh reality. But most did not mind since he had become more easygoing and fun to be around. He has skills too so that was a bonus for them. When he turned twenty, he started to actively learn Dark Magic. Not necromancy or blood magic or any of those stuff. He wants to bend the shadows to his will. Currently, he is able to cloak himself with darkness so that he will have a higher chance of sneaking around.
Personality: Javier is a generally passive guy when it comes to insults and criticisms. He would often be seen just smiling or laughing it off. It's more like he just couldn't care less of what others think of him. Although he does welcome criticism, especially in his work, skills, abilities so that he can further improve himself. He's a pretty nice guy and helpful as well. He's a pretty chill guy, often seen relaxing when not on a job. While he is dedicated to his job as a Hunter, he does love his rest times too. He adores children in his off time and spends time playing with them, given that they don't mind playing with an elf.
Javier is a cold-blooded killer. He feels nothing when he slips a knife into someone else's body. He feels nothing when blood is sprayed all over the ground. He feels nothing when they don't move. That's the type of killer Javier has been molded to become, and he honestly doesn't mind it. Since he is dedicated to his work, it just gives him an advantage over a lot of people. He doesn't hesitate to end someone's life for the sake of his job. He doesn't even care if it's right or not. He also doesn't care too much if something close to him dies since he knows everyone will die eventually.
Weapon skill/choice: Daggers, Bow, Dark Magic (basic)
Weapon picture:
Notable ability: An expert in stealth, knows basic dark magic
"A job is a job. An order is an order. Do it or die." - Master Ovir
"People eventually die anyway, so why should I care if someone dies?" - Javier Illivis
"Loyalty and Devotion. No mercy and remorse." - Mercenary Guild saying. |
8,430 | 230 | 25 | 2,251 | 16 | As the beast was unleashed Orac's eye's widened he was expecting something small, fast and nimble. This was the opposite huge, strong and wild.
"Uhm OK this is new!"
And with that Orac looked around to see how his fellow entry's were looking and noticed Amalay trying to get his attention with a nod and an hello. Do I know you? I am pretty sure I don't but anyway good luck got a feeling we will need it!
Orac stood in what he called the ready to fight position and placed his hand behind his back with his index finger touching the end of one of his arrows. | Name: ORAC
Age:25
Gender:MALE
Race: Elves
Appearance: Average body type, non toned, 5ft11, white hair, tattoo left hand and behind left ear.
Hooded jacket, canvas trousers (tattered) scarf around neck and a backpack.
Backstory: Orac was left to fend for himself at the tender age of 4 in Lothadia to be found by an elder elf and raised as a master bowman and assassin.
Personality: Orac comes across as a cocky individual yet deep down has insecurity's. Orac will always try and talk himself out of a situation first before fighting but once it evolves to a battle is second to non.
Weapon skill/choice: Bow and arrow.
Notable ability Stealthy, fast paced and extremely agile. Massive ability with a bow and arrow. Sniping with a bow is Orac's specialist skill. |
8,431 | 230 | 26 | 256 | 2,262 | Privy was knocked down by the tall woman, who quickly apologized after. "Don't worry, accidents happen right?" Keeping optimistic was the best way to go. He then proceeded to stand a good distance away from the demorbear as he removed his hat and began to cast a few spells. Hopefully one would work out okay.
Nevermind, this would do just fine.
"EVERYBODY! I'M GONNA HOLD IT DOWN!"
The only thing he moved on the field was the demorbear, and then Privy placed him near where a carcass that was succumbed to a trap was. Just as he predicted, another trap rose from the ground and restrained the demorbear, hopefully allowing for an easier fight for everyone else, even if it was for a few moments. Privy decided to cast one more spell before letting the fight continue.
A golden chain connected Privy to Cliff as the floating axe proceeded to stand in front of Privy.
"Just like last time?"
"Aye." | Name: Jameson Privy
Age: 36 (Humanly speaking)
Gender: Male
Race: Etlocks
Appearance: Jameson is a younger Etlocks man, cursed with dwarfism so he's about 3'11". His facial features include a large black beard, coming down to the bottom of his neck, he wears a top hat, and has a long tattoo on the side of his face. His body structure is of course, short, but it's very resilient from damage. He is built like a truck, and made to last a while. His clothing includes a hooded cloak atop a button-up white shirt, and a pair of khaki trousers.
Privy was rather doomed from the start, as he was born very short and was ridiculed by any and all of his companions and colleagues. The first day of school was tough when you're a short kid, and nobody really liked how he was so secretive and shy. This continued for the man until he reached a maturation point, where he discovered that he can cast his fair share of magic. This enlightened his life and he went to learn how to cast more and more spells, eventually leading to recognition as a mage. Unfortunately, his luck ran out when he started trying to cast certain spells and ended up casting a different spell (One time he tried freezing a tree and ended up igniting it). While this would probably depress some magic users, Privy was rather excited about it, and began to start taking a stage name and becoming a children's entertainer, putting on magic shows and making kids laugh. It was fun for a long time, and eventually he caught wind of the Hunters Guild accepting new recruits, and eagerly went to go join and help kill things as the great magician he was destined to be.
Personality: Privy speaks in a Russian accent, and enjoys making people laugh and smile. He doesn't like to think his disability is a weakness, rather as a motivator for his success in the future. He is also friends with an war battle axe.
Weapon skill/choice: He has an enchanted war axe, but he never uses it. He instead likes to use his fists as his main weapons.
This is a sentient war axe named Cliff, and is a very strict pacifist. It has the ability to speak on it's own will, and also float around on it's own will as well, but that's literally it.
Notable ability: Privy is a self-proclaimed Magician. As stated before, Privy has become a master of magic, but has lost the ability to accurately predict his spells when he casts them, so it's sort of random. He knows one spell that he can accurately cast on his own, and that is a defensive armor spell, and is casted when Privy exclaims he is armoring up.
Other Info: Cliff the war axe and Privy have been buds for the longest time, and as such are inseparable. |
8,432 | 230 | 27 | 2,764 | 11 | (Meshiro bounced towards the gathering fray with his staff waving in the air. The youngling struck the soil with his stave & a trickle of water soon begun to explode into a stream gushing down the golden body of Mizuken his beloved relic. Instantly, an enormous body of mana began to pool from his body and drill into the earth along with the water without moving the surface dirt itself.)
"Venite Huc!"
(Tsuekami's voice rung like the bells of a cathedral, and his eyes were as bright as new silver. Air itself thickened with the summoning of mana. The event settled with a quiet whirring which occurred beneath the ground. Meshiro ripped his stave from the earth and ambled to the side of the hole he made.)
Yes, yes.. A very basic conjuration spell. This is gonna make everyone acknowledge me, teehe... | Name: Meshiro
Age: "13" - (Though in reality, is a much greater age than this.)
Gender: Male
Race: Human.. ish ;)
Appearance: He's a small boy with a stature of 5'5 weighing at 113 pounds. Being a child prodigy, he excels mentally and needn't rely on his physical strength. He has lavender eyes which are curtained by lengthy locks of silver hair which is typically tucked under a quite large, black wizardly hat ornamented by a gold buckle, enormous goggles, and large rubies. He is constantly garbed in a ratty, dark blue robe that opens up to a plain, white tunic tucked neatly into brown trousers accompanied by ordinary black boots.
Backstory: A once ecstatic child prodigy & accomplished student at a scholar training school of Penrith. He then learned the truth, and the corrupt society hidden under the scrolls and books that he was decoding day by day, and so set off to pursue a dream of treasure hunting instead, thus becoming a vagabond - He found a golden stave which had a sapphire jewel set in its body in the corpse of a unusually large creature. The staff took his mana and in return allowed him to control water to a certain extent. Since then, he been a practioneer of magic and grew in strength over the time spent as a mercenary.
Personality: Eccentric, impulsive, with a degree of timidity, yet a keen sense of justice!
Weapon skill/choice: A golden staff with a blue sapphire on top of it. Nothing more & nothing less....
Weapon picture: N/A :(
Notable ability: He is a novice mage who has mastered the art & science of water manipulation, and only recently began to practice very minor fire magic. Physically he lacks the power to melee. However, he can detect auras and thus dodge incoming attacks by reading said auras, but he's not so quick on his feet... FURTHERMORE, he has the power to sprout wings of mana that can be used offensively & defensively.
Other Info: He suffers from narcolepsy, has trouble controlling his ridiculously large mana pool, & uses a very weird accent. |
8,433 | 230 | 28 | 242 | 1,238 | The batlike Sviirog stood, frozen in place, completely bewildered by the dwarf. Not only was he short, but he was also the first person she had ever encountered who simply walked off mid-conversation. Her shock was interrupted by a magician, who seemed to think it wasn't extremely rude to cast magic in the middle of a crowd - prompting her to launch herself in the other direction, away from the magic. It was a very uncomfortable spell - some sort of summoning, and she had been standing right in the middle of one of the invisible streams of power emanating from the youngling's staff. She didn't know if he knew how magic worked, but it had felt like a ghost had thrust its hand through her chest and into her heart.
The six hidden bioluminescent stripes upon her face grew hot and gently glowed in anger - now almost visible in daylight. She had to release her stress right now, before one of the mages angered her further. A few short, angry strides brought her to the edge of the crowd, where she waited for an opening, impatiently tapping her foot all the while. The dwarf would do well to finish his fight quickly. | A race of humanoids found in only the deepest, darkest pits of the earth, where not even the Kiln dare to delve. Their origin is, like the caverns they inhabit, muddy and hidden - and it's suggested by those few who have ever encountered them that they were either created alongside the Elves, or alongside Men - or are a twisted version of either that has long since disappeared from the blessings of the sun.
They only rarely venture out of the depths of the earth, and typically turn back and go home upon reaching the caverns, mines, and forges of the Kiln, as the colder air towards the surface greatly bothers them. No Sviirog cities are known to exist, as their culture revolves around small familial groups tucked away within the cramped confines of their homes, where they farm rock-hard fungi and deep ponds of foul bacterial slimes.
They are extremely tall and spindly, standing at seven feet tall. They appear to almost be batlike - universally albino, with yellow or pink eyes, enormous lightly furred ears, and razor sharp teeth. Dim bioluminescent splotches or stripes criss-cross across their skin all the way across their bodies, to provide the minimal light needed to see in the deepest places of the world. Surface-dwelling Sviirog wear obsidian-lensed goggles to protect their eyes from the blinding sun.
Those Sviirog who walk the surface are considered by their kin to be severely and incurably mentally ill, and can never again return to their homes - and, for the most part, they wouldn't want to return in the first place. They are silent and clever, and above ground they are recognized as competent pyromancers and assassins.
Note: Though gifted with the ability to see with absolutely no light sources whatsoever, they do not see colors the same way as other races do. This leads to the amusing ability to easily tell the difference between different kinds of otherwise identical minerals, fungi, and grasses, while simultaneously not being able to tell the difference between an orange piece of cloth or a purple one.
Kyik'thai Tvikiir
(or Kyik, for those with trouble pronouncing it)
Age: 26
Gender: F
Race: Sviirog
Appearance:
Kyik stands at an imposing 7'3" - a fair bit taller than the average Sviirog, and weighs in at 105 lbs, giving her a twiglike, fiendish look, almost like a twisted elf. Her large, angular eyes are a shade of near-lilac pink, though she always keeps them hidden beneath Kiln-made obsidian welding goggles. Like most Sviirog, her hair is thin, white, and scraggly - and she keeps it in a ponytail to keep it from drawing any attention. Massive batlike ears are coated with very fine snow-white fuzz, peaked neatly at the tips - and it's obvious that she takes quite good care of them. For the Sviirog, ear care is vastly more important than hair care, after all.
A ghost of a glow can be seen on her skin in a tiger-stripe pattern all across her body and face - faint enough that it's only properly visible for those with near perfect nightvision in a dark room.
In terms of clothing, she is often bundled up in very heavy cloaks or coats at all times, very few of which actually fit her, and all of which clash horribly with one anothers' colors. Beneath the mountains of warming fabric, she wears sturdy yet flexible dark stone green leather armor over a matching skintight leather suit. She often wears soft fur earmuffs to protect from the loud winds and speech of the surface. A green-and-red plaid flat cap sits atop her head, between her massive ears.
Backstory:
The Tvikiir clan, comprised of no more than ten Sviirog, was a well respected family within the circle of caverns four kilometers beneath Caragosh. Their depth was an indicator of their status, as the deeper caves provided the most heat and moisture - vital for fungus and slime farming - as well as access to the best ore veins. Her fathers were miners by trade, and her mothers tended to the sludge pools - sustaining themselves by trading materials and food further up the caverns to those closer to the surface.
As a Sviirog of breeding age, she was expected to help replenish the populations of the other clans to prevent inbreeding and a rapid population - and she did her duty as well as any other Sviirog. Most Sviirog have an average of five children throughout their lifetime, each by different sets of parents, and blood ties are generally forgotten in favor of clan and guardian - though most don't survive to adulthood, thanks to the harsh living conditions in the depths of the earth. She neither knows nor cares if her spawn are still alive.
By 23, having done her duty to her people, Kyik felt restless and unsatisfied with a life of watching pond scum reproduce, and sought out alternate ways to make herself useful - from basic medicine, to spectacularly failed attempts at inventing new tools (the Sviirog are, despite being clever earth-dwellers like the Dwarves/Kiln, not well suited to engineering). At 25, she heard a rumor from one of the surfaceward clan traders that there were strange, tiny creatures that go on two legs far, far above them, where the air was biting cold and foul to the nose - and she heard that they were masters of crafts the Sviirog didn't even have a name for.
She said her goodbyes to her clan, who all told her that she would be back within the year, but didn't object to her leaving. They figured she would be sickened by the uninhabitable air and the poor food up above, and would come running back home when she grew tired of it. They were wrong.
It took almost four months for her to climb all the way from the caverns, on account of the incredibly treacherous vertical ascents and the rather nasty wildlife that kept the Kiln from going any deeper than they already had - but she eventually reached one of the mine shafts near Caragosh. One Kiln saw her, and she saw the Kiln - before both immediately scurried back down their respective holes in fear. She crawled back out, and the Kiln had returned - this time, with a blanket and a lantern, which burned her eyes horribly. The two couldn't understand eachothers' language, but after some time, they came to an understanding, and she continued on her journey upwards, now in possession of clothing and a set of welding goggles.
Kyik cannot remember what adventures she had between meeting the first Kiln and arriving on the surface - but she found herself with no nonviolent skills, no home, and only the faintest idea of the language of the surface dwellers - and she was very, very cold. Much of her time was spent trying to blend in with the locals (and failing miserably), or hunting the local wildlife for food, as the only sustenance that kept her strength up was meat.
Her 26th birthday has recently passed, and with it, she has learned of a place where she may find work, and thus life: the Hunters' Guild.
Personality:
Borderline alien.
Sviirog culture is so far removed from surface culture that it is difficult to identify specific personality traits amidst the tribalism and strangeness, but others have described her from the viewpoint of surface dwellers. Here's what they've had to say.
She is fiercely proud of her heritage and family, and if successfully insulted (in such a manner that she understands it to be an insult, and it actually offends her Sviirog nature), she has been known to brawl viciously. She's surprisingly talkative for someone who only half-understands the local language, and often attempts to joke, though the translation from Sviirog to the common tongue usually causes it to fall flat. She has begun taking a strong interest in puns, though, which can be a little bit annoying at times.
She values courtesy, and hates magic being performed too closeby - the otherworldly heat and vibrations of casting makes her very uncomfortable.
She values life much less than most and doesn't think much about morality when accepting jobs.
Although it hasn't been confirmed, there have been reports of small fires spreading in every town she has visited while she was present. Possible minor arsonist.
She appears to be very, very clever and pragmatic - though she has more or less no surface education.
Weapon skill/choice: Rows upon rows of razor-sharp teeth. She is very good at biting things. Failing that, she can and will use a dagger, but that's pushing it. She feels awkward with a weapon in her hands, and prefers to use her natural equipment.
Notable abilities: Completely untrained natural pyromancer. Like most Sviirog, she is capable of producing flames at any point within twenty meters of her body, but unlike most Sviirog, she never focused on developing this skill - and, as such, is only able to make the equivalent of a large candle flame, a loud popping noise, or a bright flash of light.
The time she didn't spend on learning fire magicks, however, was spent on learning to climb and explore the caverns without attracting the attention of other Sviirog or the local vicious beasts. She can nearly silently scale any porous surface the fine hairs in her skin can take hold of.
Sviirog strength and agility permits her to contort herself into otherwise unthinkable positions, making her motions very difficult to predict in combat.
Other Info: Odd-color vision, perfect darkvision. Incredibly fine hearing, but can be very easily incapacitated by loud noises if not wearing hearing protection. |
8,434 | 230 | 29 | 242 | 1,238 | <edit: doubleposted, please ignore> | A race of humanoids found in only the deepest, darkest pits of the earth, where not even the Kiln dare to delve. Their origin is, like the caverns they inhabit, muddy and hidden - and it's suggested by those few who have ever encountered them that they were either created alongside the Elves, or alongside Men - or are a twisted version of either that has long since disappeared from the blessings of the sun.
They only rarely venture out of the depths of the earth, and typically turn back and go home upon reaching the caverns, mines, and forges of the Kiln, as the colder air towards the surface greatly bothers them. No Sviirog cities are known to exist, as their culture revolves around small familial groups tucked away within the cramped confines of their homes, where they farm rock-hard fungi and deep ponds of foul bacterial slimes.
They are extremely tall and spindly, standing at seven feet tall. They appear to almost be batlike - universally albino, with yellow or pink eyes, enormous lightly furred ears, and razor sharp teeth. Dim bioluminescent splotches or stripes criss-cross across their skin all the way across their bodies, to provide the minimal light needed to see in the deepest places of the world. Surface-dwelling Sviirog wear obsidian-lensed goggles to protect their eyes from the blinding sun.
Those Sviirog who walk the surface are considered by their kin to be severely and incurably mentally ill, and can never again return to their homes - and, for the most part, they wouldn't want to return in the first place. They are silent and clever, and above ground they are recognized as competent pyromancers and assassins.
Note: Though gifted with the ability to see with absolutely no light sources whatsoever, they do not see colors the same way as other races do. This leads to the amusing ability to easily tell the difference between different kinds of otherwise identical minerals, fungi, and grasses, while simultaneously not being able to tell the difference between an orange piece of cloth or a purple one.
Kyik'thai Tvikiir
(or Kyik, for those with trouble pronouncing it)
Age: 26
Gender: F
Race: Sviirog
Appearance:
Kyik stands at an imposing 7'3" - a fair bit taller than the average Sviirog, and weighs in at 105 lbs, giving her a twiglike, fiendish look, almost like a twisted elf. Her large, angular eyes are a shade of near-lilac pink, though she always keeps them hidden beneath Kiln-made obsidian welding goggles. Like most Sviirog, her hair is thin, white, and scraggly - and she keeps it in a ponytail to keep it from drawing any attention. Massive batlike ears are coated with very fine snow-white fuzz, peaked neatly at the tips - and it's obvious that she takes quite good care of them. For the Sviirog, ear care is vastly more important than hair care, after all.
A ghost of a glow can be seen on her skin in a tiger-stripe pattern all across her body and face - faint enough that it's only properly visible for those with near perfect nightvision in a dark room.
In terms of clothing, she is often bundled up in very heavy cloaks or coats at all times, very few of which actually fit her, and all of which clash horribly with one anothers' colors. Beneath the mountains of warming fabric, she wears sturdy yet flexible dark stone green leather armor over a matching skintight leather suit. She often wears soft fur earmuffs to protect from the loud winds and speech of the surface. A green-and-red plaid flat cap sits atop her head, between her massive ears.
Backstory:
The Tvikiir clan, comprised of no more than ten Sviirog, was a well respected family within the circle of caverns four kilometers beneath Caragosh. Their depth was an indicator of their status, as the deeper caves provided the most heat and moisture - vital for fungus and slime farming - as well as access to the best ore veins. Her fathers were miners by trade, and her mothers tended to the sludge pools - sustaining themselves by trading materials and food further up the caverns to those closer to the surface.
As a Sviirog of breeding age, she was expected to help replenish the populations of the other clans to prevent inbreeding and a rapid population - and she did her duty as well as any other Sviirog. Most Sviirog have an average of five children throughout their lifetime, each by different sets of parents, and blood ties are generally forgotten in favor of clan and guardian - though most don't survive to adulthood, thanks to the harsh living conditions in the depths of the earth. She neither knows nor cares if her spawn are still alive.
By 23, having done her duty to her people, Kyik felt restless and unsatisfied with a life of watching pond scum reproduce, and sought out alternate ways to make herself useful - from basic medicine, to spectacularly failed attempts at inventing new tools (the Sviirog are, despite being clever earth-dwellers like the Dwarves/Kiln, not well suited to engineering). At 25, she heard a rumor from one of the surfaceward clan traders that there were strange, tiny creatures that go on two legs far, far above them, where the air was biting cold and foul to the nose - and she heard that they were masters of crafts the Sviirog didn't even have a name for.
She said her goodbyes to her clan, who all told her that she would be back within the year, but didn't object to her leaving. They figured she would be sickened by the uninhabitable air and the poor food up above, and would come running back home when she grew tired of it. They were wrong.
It took almost four months for her to climb all the way from the caverns, on account of the incredibly treacherous vertical ascents and the rather nasty wildlife that kept the Kiln from going any deeper than they already had - but she eventually reached one of the mine shafts near Caragosh. One Kiln saw her, and she saw the Kiln - before both immediately scurried back down their respective holes in fear. She crawled back out, and the Kiln had returned - this time, with a blanket and a lantern, which burned her eyes horribly. The two couldn't understand eachothers' language, but after some time, they came to an understanding, and she continued on her journey upwards, now in possession of clothing and a set of welding goggles.
Kyik cannot remember what adventures she had between meeting the first Kiln and arriving on the surface - but she found herself with no nonviolent skills, no home, and only the faintest idea of the language of the surface dwellers - and she was very, very cold. Much of her time was spent trying to blend in with the locals (and failing miserably), or hunting the local wildlife for food, as the only sustenance that kept her strength up was meat.
Her 26th birthday has recently passed, and with it, she has learned of a place where she may find work, and thus life: the Hunters' Guild.
Personality:
Borderline alien.
Sviirog culture is so far removed from surface culture that it is difficult to identify specific personality traits amidst the tribalism and strangeness, but others have described her from the viewpoint of surface dwellers. Here's what they've had to say.
She is fiercely proud of her heritage and family, and if successfully insulted (in such a manner that she understands it to be an insult, and it actually offends her Sviirog nature), she has been known to brawl viciously. She's surprisingly talkative for someone who only half-understands the local language, and often attempts to joke, though the translation from Sviirog to the common tongue usually causes it to fall flat. She has begun taking a strong interest in puns, though, which can be a little bit annoying at times.
She values courtesy, and hates magic being performed too closeby - the otherworldly heat and vibrations of casting makes her very uncomfortable.
She values life much less than most and doesn't think much about morality when accepting jobs.
Although it hasn't been confirmed, there have been reports of small fires spreading in every town she has visited while she was present. Possible minor arsonist.
She appears to be very, very clever and pragmatic - though she has more or less no surface education.
Weapon skill/choice: Rows upon rows of razor-sharp teeth. She is very good at biting things. Failing that, she can and will use a dagger, but that's pushing it. She feels awkward with a weapon in her hands, and prefers to use her natural equipment.
Notable abilities: Completely untrained natural pyromancer. Like most Sviirog, she is capable of producing flames at any point within twenty meters of her body, but unlike most Sviirog, she never focused on developing this skill - and, as such, is only able to make the equivalent of a large candle flame, a loud popping noise, or a bright flash of light.
The time she didn't spend on learning fire magicks, however, was spent on learning to climb and explore the caverns without attracting the attention of other Sviirog or the local vicious beasts. She can nearly silently scale any porous surface the fine hairs in her skin can take hold of.
Sviirog strength and agility permits her to contort herself into otherwise unthinkable positions, making her motions very difficult to predict in combat.
Other Info: Odd-color vision, perfect darkvision. Incredibly fine hearing, but can be very easily incapacitated by loud noises if not wearing hearing protection. |
8,435 | 230 | 30 | 2,764 | 11 | Do I know you? I am pretty sure I don't but anyway good luck got a feeling we will need it!
When Orac blew off Amalay’s attempt at camaraderie, she was not to be daunted. Either that or was completely oblivious to the fact that he had attempted to be as dull and uninteresting as possible. This wasn't the first, nor the last of his sort she would encounter. Someone not full of laughs, not full of conversation, not full of opinion. Orac probably was just looking for some action and spare glory, and would worry about friends and retirement and other things that made life life once all of his affairs were in order. In other words, a philosophy completely diametric to Amalay's perspective.
“Primal and simple creatures Elvin Archer’s are, completely focused on task.This one has matured into its killing season,” she spoke to Grol... well not really, more than anything she began yammering in order to annoy Orac. “At this stage in their lives, they are solely driven off of slaughter, and shed their vestigial personalities and sex drives in order to meet their simple instinct for bloodshed. See how he doesn’t get mad or worked up about anything? His entire existence from this point on, is violence. See how the drive is deafening him to my words? Why, in normal society, before the bloodening, he might blow off my narration as some sort of joke. He might even quip about something he finds deficit in me, or could even turn around and smile. Who knows, he might even introduce himself. But no, the creature is entirely consumed and blinded by this urge.”
She began smiling broadly and stifling laughter at her own humor. | Name: Meshiro
Age: "13" - (Though in reality, is a much greater age than this.)
Gender: Male
Race: Human.. ish ;)
Appearance: He's a small boy with a stature of 5'5 weighing at 113 pounds. Being a child prodigy, he excels mentally and needn't rely on his physical strength. He has lavender eyes which are curtained by lengthy locks of silver hair which is typically tucked under a quite large, black wizardly hat ornamented by a gold buckle, enormous goggles, and large rubies. He is constantly garbed in a ratty, dark blue robe that opens up to a plain, white tunic tucked neatly into brown trousers accompanied by ordinary black boots.
Backstory: A once ecstatic child prodigy & accomplished student at a scholar training school of Penrith. He then learned the truth, and the corrupt society hidden under the scrolls and books that he was decoding day by day, and so set off to pursue a dream of treasure hunting instead, thus becoming a vagabond - He found a golden stave which had a sapphire jewel set in its body in the corpse of a unusually large creature. The staff took his mana and in return allowed him to control water to a certain extent. Since then, he been a practioneer of magic and grew in strength over the time spent as a mercenary.
Personality: Eccentric, impulsive, with a degree of timidity, yet a keen sense of justice!
Weapon skill/choice: A golden staff with a blue sapphire on top of it. Nothing more & nothing less....
Weapon picture: N/A :(
Notable ability: He is a novice mage who has mastered the art & science of water manipulation, and only recently began to practice very minor fire magic. Physically he lacks the power to melee. However, he can detect auras and thus dodge incoming attacks by reading said auras, but he's not so quick on his feet... FURTHERMORE, he has the power to sprout wings of mana that can be used offensively & defensively.
Other Info: He suffers from narcolepsy, has trouble controlling his ridiculously large mana pool, & uses a very weird accent. |
8,436 | 231 | 0 | 104 | 127 | On the 21st of April in the year 2017 a series of terrorist attacks convulsed the cities Pakse, Saravan and Champasak inside the People´s Democratic Republic of Lao, a group that called itself Sons of Phnom Penh confided to those attacks. The Sons of Phnom Penh were descendants of the Red Khmer, a communist party that reigned Cambodia from 1975 to 1978 and killed 2.2 million people.
After they failed their coup against the royal family during the Indochina wars in 70s, the Red Kmher shattered and scattered into the sorounding countries. Some started leading rebel groups in Myanmar, others went to Vietnam in order to support the communist NVA there and at last some of the Khmer fled to Laos. At that time Lao was suffering from the aftermaths a Civil War, just like in Vietnam communism had spread there and sparked a war between the Pathet Lao who were backed by North Vietnam and China and the Kingdom of Laos backed by Thailand and the US.
To sum it up the Indochina wars served as a mean to get rid of the monarchy and establish a peoples government, perfect fertile grounds for communistic ideas at that time.
After the Laotian Civil War, the end of the Khmer Reign, the Vietnam conflict and other forgotten events Indochina or nowadays South East Asia was left in an unstable state. Some nations like Thailand were supported by the US, some like Cambodia decided to stick to their monarchy, others like Vietnam and Laos had now communist parties in reign and were prone to influence from red China and at last a nation like Myanmar who never got out of war since 1948 and still has over 15 rebel groups fighting for independence.
“Only the dead have seen the end of war.”
The attacks, allegedly performed by Cambodian terrorists, were enough for Laos to it as a transgression. Accusations of inaction and even endorsement of the events were spoken out towards the Cambodian monarchy and government. It was a political disaster, every explanation or assurance that measures would be taken hit closed doors on the Laotian side. Meanwhile the Sons of Phnom Penh continued their attacks, now on both sides the Laotian and Cambodian which stoked distrust between the two nations. Their motives were unknown, analists were saying that they wanted to provoke a Laotian invasion to establish a communist regime after the Cambodian monarchy would fall under it. With the situation at hand Lao started to violate the borders to Cambodia during their military operations against the Sons of Phnom Penh. Neither of the sides wanted to declare an active war but the acts of aggression were clear and throwing Cambodia into a civil-warlike condition. As there were not NATO members threatened and no interests at stake the UN interventions boiled down to relief aid convois, medical aid camps and operational supervisors/overseers who were there to prevent war crime during military operations from either side. Typical blue helmet jobs.
In addition to that a consortium of intelligence agencies and military advisors decided to oversee this conflict too, the involvement of a global player or a coup attempt aiming at the whole region was not debarred. Orders were issued to re-activate an old Pony Express staging FOB, one at the that was used to support Hmong guerilla in 1975 during the Laotian Civil War and was abandoned after the communists came to power. The location of the base laid in Thailand so it wouldn´t cause political tensions but it was at the 3 nations border so perfect to for trespassing into Lao or Cambodia. Its official cover story was that the FOB was being used as a medical aid camp and Medevac runway for refugees and victims of the Lao-Cambodian border operations. Resources had to be limited to ensure the secrecy oft he operations launched from there and to keep a low profile on the troops stationed there, after all not everyone would be nurse,doctor or UN observer.
Everybody was worried, After all China had already been planing to expand either into Siberia or somewhere else. Covert agents and contractors were running under Matchbox´s,a JTF consisting of several intelligence services, supervision without its actual involvement. Yet nobody could foresee what happened next, overnight Cambodia and Laos plummet into chaos, while unidentified APC´s and MBT´s moved into Thailand from several directions. The offensive into Thailand was followed by heavy air strikes against high priority TRP´s. Within 24 hours the whole region was in a state of war.
To aid the Thai military all US troops inside the country were mobilized and contorted in Bangkok, creating a green zone inside the country that currently was being invaded. Though that was barely enough since resources and manpower were melting under the constant saboteur attacks and indirect fire. It did not take long for the enemy forces to start moving towards the city and with only one carrier group at the coast support was limited. Since the enemy was still unknown and China discount each allegation of having connection to this, it was decided to start evacuating foreign citizens.
Spectre, a DAaR unit under the jurisdiction of Matchbox ,
consisting of various ,sometimes not even existent ,intelligence agency branch members, like people from the ISA and top notch military unit members like the ones from CAG,Vympel and 13th RDP. Their mission was not to do the conventional work that others could do, they were tasked with finding key personell that provided the group money, informations,weapons and shelter, kill or capture HVT´s, gather intelligence and turn arround members that would then work as moles. Spectre´s existence is only known to a few leading positions within the different military´s and intelligence services.
Members of Spectre undergo various procedures like tattoo removal, fingerprint removal and other less pleasant ones, their paperwork is adjusted accordingly as if they never existed.
During the operation in the refugee camp, they had been relocated onto that same carrier group that was at the coast of Thailand just this moment.
Their present task would be the retrieval of classified material, sources and agents from several stations within Bangkok, everything under combat conditions. Therefor they inserted into a FOP of the 7th SFG, which was located inside a soccer stadium. It would become their base of operation for duration of their push into Bangkok. Bo has been designated as the element leader for this operation due to his previous experience in such matters. He was just returning from the roof, up there he had used the OGA´s laser designator to mark their target building as a TRP and loaded callsings and frequencies of forces in the are onto his radio. Now Boris was returning to perform a last equipment check with his people, he entered a locker room which was, kindly, given to them. As no other quarters were available the whole team had to make themself at home in this locker room for soccer teams, the only good thing about it was that the showers were right next to it. | Name:Boris Melnikov
Alias:Thomasz Volkin (Fake Passport)
Nickname/Callsign (How to be called over radio):Bo
Date of birth:5MAY1978
Place of Birth:St:Petersburg
Citizenship:Russian/German
Languages:Russian,German,English,Italian,Arabic
Physical Information
(if picture is provided some things can be left blank)
Height:6`0
Weight:198
Eye color: Brown
Hair color/cut: Dark Blonde
Body type:wiry but muscular, agile
Military Information and Service Records
(several units are allowed as long as the transition is legit)
Country:Russia
Unit/s:BKA,VDV, GRU SpetsNaz "Vympel" group
Previous MOS-Occupation/s:Comissioner(BKA), Designated Marksman(VDV), Element Leader/Point Man(GRU)
Rank (last one achieved):Captain
Duration of service: 18 years
Tour/s of duty:5x 180 day tours(VDV and SpetsNaz), 22 tours under Vympel (varies from 1-5 months)
(Awards are optional)
Gear
Backpack
(aside from the things pointed out in the pic)
a thermo CamelBack
40m of rope with carbines
3 Water bottles
IFAK kit
6 cut down rations
SOFLAM+2 Batteries
PRC-152 spare antena
5 STANAG mags 5.56
4 433 HEDP 40mm
2 CS 40mm
Crowbar
PVS-14
Gas Mask
2x RGO FRAG grenades
2x M18 Smoke grenades
2x AN/M14 Incendiary grenades
Explosives filled wire, 8m
Can of termite paste
Sat Phone
Vest, Pockets, Body
Trauma kit
12 STANAG mags
2 RGO FRAG grenades
1 M84 Flashbang
3 433 HEDP 40mm
1 CS 40mm
Trauma kit
3 FN 5.7 mags
Leatherman Multi tool
M9 Bayonet (compass, purification tablets and wire in the handle)
4 M112 Charges (each 250 gram)
Fuses
M52 Clacker
Fishing wire
Garmin Fortex GPS watch
Map
IR lens
PRC-152 Radio
Piece of chalk
isolation tape
Personal Information
Hobbies:Reading, Gym, Cooking, Range, FMA (Filipino Martial Arts), Motorcycles
Injuries(old and new): several scars, a few broken bones
Mental Health Issues(such as PTSD): Insomnia
Preferred Hand to Hand Style(Krav Maga or others):Sambo, Pencak Silat
Bio/CV:Boris lived most of his childhood in Russian under rough circumstances. He was stealing food when being hungry, getting into brawls with neighborhood kids and running from the police. A normal kid of his town so to say.His mother immigrated towards the west ,later she met Boris´s new stepfather there.While attending school he forged friendships with many kids like him and quickly came to an understanding that as a minority some doors were open to him, which led to contact with drugs and firerarms in early youth. He knew too good what came from drugs since he experienced a lot of misery and violence caused by them but the hunger for money and status made him roll with it and hustle. Up until he finished school Boris kept in touch with with shady friends and bad company . The reason he maintained a good physical form trough lifting, running and martial arts was that he always had an affinity towards the military. But he wasn´t taken into the academy,even though he was in good physical shape and spoke 4 languages at that time, and started studying psychology.After finishing his psychology degree Bo decided that it wasn´t his way, he left the university with 21 and enlisted into the BKA where earned a degree in public administration and a certificate in Arabic. After that he decided give into the urge to go back to his homeland, where he served first in the Airborne Troops Mountain Division, where he learned mountaineering, to earn his citizenship back which he lost after the German naturalization, until he was 26.Then the GRU Spetsnaz where he became a Staff Sergeant with 28 and 5 tours, there he was put into the position of a Pointman/Marksman due to his past MOS in the VDV.The GRU (Spetsnaz) transferred him to Vympel(Recon,Sabotage,HVT Operations), where Boris learned everything a military spook needs(emphasis on Vympel´s jurisdiction) and also attended OCS which was mandatory, due to his cultural and language knowledge, he became a person of interest for European and middle eastern operations. Boris was married to Katja Melnikov which was killed by separatists as a retaliation for Bo´s operations Chechnya, Africa and South America. Ever since he is a single father, taking care of his 15 year old daughter Natasha. It is hard for him to handle the life of a single parent while also being on constant stand by in case a deployment comes up. .
Munition:
17x STANAG 5.56 -510 rounds
4x 5.7 Mags- 80 rounds
7x 40mm 433HEDP
3x 40mm CS round
4x RGO Fragmentation grenades
2x M18 White smoke
1x M84
2x AN/M14
4x M112 C4 blocks
Perishables-used/lost:
N/A |
8,437 | 231 | 1 | 2,708 | 1,209 | Isabela was quick to roll up her sleeping bag. It was odd to think of it as a luxury, but given their current condition, that's exactly what it was. She stretched out the wrinkles before stuffing it into its bag. Melnikov was due back any moment now and she refused to appear sloppy. But she hadn't been feeling too well for the last couple of days; a lingering cold that just wouldn't leave her alone made her weak and with the desire to do absolutely nothing but sleep for days. Isabela suffered in silence though. She moved a tad slower, but she performed her job to expectations nonetheless. Or at least, she hoped that's what she was doing.
While some of the others chattered amongst themselves, Isabella put her sleeping bag away in her locker before she sat on one of the benches to lean back against the wall. She hugged her rifle purely out of instinct, probably because it made her feel a small amount of comfort. Not that she was in any imminent danger amongst her teammates per se, but the chills she was currently experiencing certainly didn't help.
Finally, as her superior walked through the entrance to the locker room, Isabela straightened up. | Name: Isabela Bryant
Alias: N/A
Nickname/Callsign: Mortimer
Date of birth: 1-4-1987
Place of Birth: Sevilla, Spain
Citizenship: Spanish
Languages: Spanish, Portuguese, English
♦Physical Information
Height: 5'6
Weight: 132 lbs
Eye color: Green
Hair color/cut: See image
Body type: Slender, toned
♦Military Information and Service Records
Country: Spain
Unit/s: Guardia Civil (Civil Guard)
Previous MOS-Occupation/s: Unidad Especial de Intervención (Special Intervention Unit)
Rank (last one achieved): Capitán (Captain)
Duration of service: Thirteen years
Tour/s of duty: N/A
♦Gear
Uniform: See image
Armor: Kevlar helmet and vest
Weapons: M4 rifle with ACOG scope attachment, Glock 19 with Viridian C5L-R, generic folding knife
Backpack: Two chicken, spaghetti, and beef MREs, small flashlight, a pack of AA and AAA batteries, water canteen, miscellaneous toiletries, APX 8000 P25 portable radio, ATN PS15-4 Night Vision Goggles, SwissTool X, 4 M67 grenades, tripwire, first aid kit
Ammunition/Others:Five fully-loaded magazines for the M4, 100 rounds for the Glock 19
Tracker:180 5.56×45mm NATO rounds, 115 9mm rounds, 4 M67 grenades
♦Personal Information
Hobbies: Drawing, reading, swimming, cooking, collecting pocket watches
Injuries(old and new): Scar on her left thigh.
Mental Health Issues(such as PTSD): None
Preferred Hand to Hand Style(Krav Maga or others): Boxing
Bio/CV: Being an only child, Isabela had a rather comfortable upbringing. She was born and raised in a middle-class home and was never particularly deprived of any essential childhood experiences. When she was younger, she picked up a passion for drawing after taking an art class. She continued on that path well into her late teens. Isabela’s parents were expecting for her to make a career out of art, but she surprised them when she confessed to them what her intentions were. Even though they were not the least bit pleased with her decision, they nonetheless respected and supported her choice.
Upon finishing secondary school, Isabela didn’t waste any time starting her university career. She went into the language program to get her degree in English and after a semester, also pursued a joint education in police studies. She finished in three and a half years given that she refrained from working throughout that time and was able to take advantage of the free time she had. After she graduated, she joined the Civil Guard. The training phase was somewhat of a wake-up call, but prior to her arrival she had been training for months. Going out on jogs, taking boxing classes, strength training, etc. She was then taken into phase two where she’d receive the rest of her training to become an officer. The training was tougher, but she welcomed the challenge and in the end, graduated second in class.
Given that she had successfully completed all formal training, Isabela had to pick a field. She knew what she wanted from the beginning and she chose to join the Special Intervention Unit where she'd lead a small team of men and women. At first, it seemed like she was unstoppable, but she soon found out the hard way that life isn't without struggles. During a live fire exercise training, her thigh was grazed by a bullet after one of her subordinates failed to safely handle his weapon during a misfire. The individual responsible was heavily reprimanded, and Isabela was given a desk job for a couple of months both for medical reasons and as punishment for failing to properly execute a training exercise. She returned to full duty after some time, where not only did she become a better leader, but a better person as well. Initially, she was judged as being more strict by those she'd work with for years, but the payoff was clearly evident as she slowly gained rank and one day, pulled into her superior's office to be offered a new position. If she agreed, she'd be getting deployed to be alongside intelligence officers working in their nation's best interest. She'd never gone overseas, but she saw it as an opportunity to get further ahead in her career. Isabela understood how dangerous her job would be given that she'd be in hostile territory and out on the field much more than before, but she believed she was ready for this new chapter of her life. |
8,438 | 231 | 2 | 104 | 127 | Alright listen up! he called out as he entered the locker room, clapping with his hands a few times to get their attention.
"I have scoped out the target area with the guys from 7th, it does not look good. The latest reports indicate that the lines are getting pushed further back into the city and the auxiliary forces are barely managing to evacuate people over the river. That makes our time window smaller. After talking to command they relaid to me that we have a 12 hour window, after that the JSOC will order the destruction of the target AREA. I stress AREA because they don´t even know which building it is and neither do we, the CIA is playing hard to get, saying that they´ll only provide the information when a team is on site. Justifying it with some theory about communication being intercepted." Bo walked over to a board at the end of the room, took out a piece of paper and photo from his A-Tacs pants and fixed it on the board with a magnet.
"Satellite images were not available but thank google and printers."
"So, the blue one is us right now. The red circle is the area where the CIA station is and the green square is the airport of Bangkok, that is where we are supposed to take the hardware and data after acquiring it. Apparently it is so important that it has to be flown out of country." Bo was pointing at each one as he talked, it wasn´t more than a sheet of paper with marker on it but that´s all he had. "The black lines mark the buffer zone, basically the front line, it´s filled with BluFor holding off the OpFor."
"The city is full of civilians, line infantry and saboteurs that break trough so we will use unmarked civilian vehicles."
"Our priority is to recover as much as we can and blow the rest or mark it for the indirect fire. The sooner we´re done, the sooner we can leave the country. That is all."
With that Boris stepped away from the board to his locker, he began to get ready by putting on the bullet proof vest and the plate carrier, checking if everything was in place. Prepping his weapons, headgear and backpack which he also would take with him. | Name:Boris Melnikov
Alias:Thomasz Volkin (Fake Passport)
Nickname/Callsign (How to be called over radio):Bo
Date of birth:5MAY1978
Place of Birth:St:Petersburg
Citizenship:Russian/German
Languages:Russian,German,English,Italian,Arabic
Physical Information
(if picture is provided some things can be left blank)
Height:6`0
Weight:198
Eye color: Brown
Hair color/cut: Dark Blonde
Body type:wiry but muscular, agile
Military Information and Service Records
(several units are allowed as long as the transition is legit)
Country:Russia
Unit/s:BKA,VDV, GRU SpetsNaz "Vympel" group
Previous MOS-Occupation/s:Comissioner(BKA), Designated Marksman(VDV), Element Leader/Point Man(GRU)
Rank (last one achieved):Captain
Duration of service: 18 years
Tour/s of duty:5x 180 day tours(VDV and SpetsNaz), 22 tours under Vympel (varies from 1-5 months)
(Awards are optional)
Gear
Backpack
(aside from the things pointed out in the pic)
a thermo CamelBack
40m of rope with carbines
3 Water bottles
IFAK kit
6 cut down rations
SOFLAM+2 Batteries
PRC-152 spare antena
5 STANAG mags 5.56
4 433 HEDP 40mm
2 CS 40mm
Crowbar
PVS-14
Gas Mask
2x RGO FRAG grenades
2x M18 Smoke grenades
2x AN/M14 Incendiary grenades
Explosives filled wire, 8m
Can of termite paste
Sat Phone
Vest, Pockets, Body
Trauma kit
12 STANAG mags
2 RGO FRAG grenades
1 M84 Flashbang
3 433 HEDP 40mm
1 CS 40mm
Trauma kit
3 FN 5.7 mags
Leatherman Multi tool
M9 Bayonet (compass, purification tablets and wire in the handle)
4 M112 Charges (each 250 gram)
Fuses
M52 Clacker
Fishing wire
Garmin Fortex GPS watch
Map
IR lens
PRC-152 Radio
Piece of chalk
isolation tape
Personal Information
Hobbies:Reading, Gym, Cooking, Range, FMA (Filipino Martial Arts), Motorcycles
Injuries(old and new): several scars, a few broken bones
Mental Health Issues(such as PTSD): Insomnia
Preferred Hand to Hand Style(Krav Maga or others):Sambo, Pencak Silat
Bio/CV:Boris lived most of his childhood in Russian under rough circumstances. He was stealing food when being hungry, getting into brawls with neighborhood kids and running from the police. A normal kid of his town so to say.His mother immigrated towards the west ,later she met Boris´s new stepfather there.While attending school he forged friendships with many kids like him and quickly came to an understanding that as a minority some doors were open to him, which led to contact with drugs and firerarms in early youth. He knew too good what came from drugs since he experienced a lot of misery and violence caused by them but the hunger for money and status made him roll with it and hustle. Up until he finished school Boris kept in touch with with shady friends and bad company . The reason he maintained a good physical form trough lifting, running and martial arts was that he always had an affinity towards the military. But he wasn´t taken into the academy,even though he was in good physical shape and spoke 4 languages at that time, and started studying psychology.After finishing his psychology degree Bo decided that it wasn´t his way, he left the university with 21 and enlisted into the BKA where earned a degree in public administration and a certificate in Arabic. After that he decided give into the urge to go back to his homeland, where he served first in the Airborne Troops Mountain Division, where he learned mountaineering, to earn his citizenship back which he lost after the German naturalization, until he was 26.Then the GRU Spetsnaz where he became a Staff Sergeant with 28 and 5 tours, there he was put into the position of a Pointman/Marksman due to his past MOS in the VDV.The GRU (Spetsnaz) transferred him to Vympel(Recon,Sabotage,HVT Operations), where Boris learned everything a military spook needs(emphasis on Vympel´s jurisdiction) and also attended OCS which was mandatory, due to his cultural and language knowledge, he became a person of interest for European and middle eastern operations. Boris was married to Katja Melnikov which was killed by separatists as a retaliation for Bo´s operations Chechnya, Africa and South America. Ever since he is a single father, taking care of his 15 year old daughter Natasha. It is hard for him to handle the life of a single parent while also being on constant stand by in case a deployment comes up. .
Munition:
17x STANAG 5.56 -510 rounds
4x 5.7 Mags- 80 rounds
7x 40mm 433HEDP
3x 40mm CS round
4x RGO Fragmentation grenades
2x M18 White smoke
1x M84
2x AN/M14
4x M112 C4 blocks
Perishables-used/lost:
N/A |
8,439 | 231 | 3 | 494 | 38 | This sounds too easy, muttered Daniel, heaving a backpack onto his shoulder and grabbing his rifle by the centre. "Won't there be an interception if the intelligence is so important?"
Perhaps, he thought, his irritability was brought on by the lack of sleep- even without rough conditions, his body seemed to stay back in the west, taking a toll no matter how much he slept. It was the first time since training back in 2003 that he felt tired. Instinctual wariness in this new environment kept him awake, though.
In the desert, guns in heavy use tended to soak up heat, especially with the sun out. A desperate gunner on a truck could find himself stuck without a weapon because it would start glowing too much, like the eyes of the approaching fanatics trying to tear your friends apart. Daniel's gun was cold. Heavier, too, but that was probably just the suppressor. | Name: Daniel Aleksander Mazlow
Alias:
Nickname/Callsign (How to be called over radio): Low
Date of birth: 30/06/1985
Place of Birth: Katowice, Poland
Citizenship: British, Polish
Languages: Polish, English, Russian, French
Physical Information
Height: 5 ft 8 in
Weight: 139 lb
Body type: Lightweight, rectangular torso.
Military Information and Service Records
Country: Britain
Unit/s: 3rd Division, 22 SAS
Previous MOS-Occupation/s: Mechanic/Light Cavalry Engineer, Fireteam leader, Corporal, Paratrooper officer
Rank (last one achieved): Corporal
Duration of service: 14 years
Tour/s of duty: 4 x 180 day tours (1st Armoured Inf.), 2009-12 Afghanistan (Household Cavalry), 5 x 180 day tours (SAS)
Awards: Iraq Medal, Afghanistan Operational Medal
Gear
-MTP uniform, black gas mask, waterproof camouflaged coat, gloves and boots, protective ESS (Eye Safety System) goggles
-Osprey body armour, Mk 6 helmet
-C8 Carbine, suppressed with ACOG scope and adjustable stock
-SIG Sauer P226, suppressed
-Single edge combat knife, folding with large grip end (for blunt hitting)
-1 flashbang, 2 fragmentation grenades, 2 M18 black smoke grenades
-6 STANAG detachable magazines with 30 rounds, 2 9mm handgun magazines with 15 rounds.
-'First Tactical' backpack (green), handaxe, first aid kit, compact set of basic mechanic tools, short-range radio, satellite phone, electrical tools (cables, spare circuit parts, etc.), 3 AA battery packs, two torches- small and medium, both lightweight, three MREs and canned meat, large thermos, rope, waterproof watch with compass, toilet paper, weapon repair and cleaning kit, remotely detonating explosives, electrician's and mechanical handbooks, notebook with pen.
Personal Information
Hobbies: Martial arts, non-fiction and journalistic reading, photography, electronics
Injuries: Missing part of earlobe- left, burn and graze scars on legs and hands, large scar on middle finger.
Mental Health Issues(such as PTSD): Non-clinical anxiety
Preferred Hand to Hand Style: Karate, Tae Kwon Do, kickboxing
Bio/CV: Born to a dishonest mother and often-missing father, Daniel suffered family troubles from the day he was born. Around the time the family moved, his father had taken multiple penalties for participating in Solidarity protests, leaving him more absent than ever due to arrests. By 1990, the economic situation was slowly worsening from the collapse of the Soviet Union, and the toddler found himself traveling to the United Kingdom.
While there, Daniel's parents divorced due to his mother's emotional manipulation and abuse, ending up in his father's new home, half of his money taken away. Growing up in Manchester, he learnt English quickly to fit in with the others around him. He grew up in a poor neighbourhood but nevertheless determined to make himself stand out, through his nationality.
Daniel's pride got him into trouble, though to his perception, the cause was enough. Unwilling to take insults to his identity or family, he earned a name as someone quick to anger with the right words, throughout his school journey.
At home, throughout his younger childhood, his bitter father was pushed on by both his wife and those hostile to his presence. After seeing numerous issues outside of school, a young Daniel took matters into his own hands and asked a good friend if he could help.
Help he did- the surrounding neighbourhoods were notorious for their crime, whether or not organised, and Daniel knew numerous gangs roamed the communities. He did not know, however, that his friends were so close to those groups.
Questions were asked, and within a few days of Daniel reporting the verbal crimes, a fire had mysteriously taken place within the area, almost killing a family of six, as well as another where a shared adult home collapsed due to a blaze, crippling both men inside. It was found that what happened was definitely arson, yet, no suspects to be found.
With the case dropped, Daniel's father saw that one side of security was made. Attitude and parenting improved.
Despite his mother's lingering presence like the smoke brought on by a sympathetic criminal, Daniel ended his secondary education with GCSEs, and was wondering what direction he'd actually take in life. He had college forms, and his own interests outside of school- he enjoyed martial arts, as it served both his body and his social status, as well as reading what he could (though he started fairly late- his disordered childhood left little time or motivation for things like that).
Then a signpost, bathed in fire and headlines, struck his attention- the attack on the World Trade Centre.
Daniel never wanted to find his fortune in crime or dealing drugs, not like the friends he visited in prison sometimes. It was attractive after a good action film, but certainly not in reality. With that held in mind, he concentrated on a path into the military.
He joined the land forces as soon as he ended college, with high scores in a number of mechanical and practical subjects, allowing him to land positions as a frontline engineer in the British Army. He was put into the 3rd Mechanised Division, mostly operating as a cavalry member. Due to his newfound motivations driven by a realisation that his apparently close friends would easily forget him and an attempt to spite his mother, Daniel worked as hard as he could, forcing himself to sometimes work harder than necessary.
His exhaustion came at a low price of being called an "arse-kissing officer's pussy," to quote one man. The discipline of work did not translate to his socialization; a brawl broke out.
Naturally, he was punished with a warning and menial work outside of the fighting zones, but it seemed to be a stroke of strange, and yet cold luck. A few men in his organisation fell to fighting during Telic.
Telic finished, a later notation of his hard work led Mazlow into the first officer work so far, as a leader of a team. He remained in a cavalry role, but this time in Afghanistan, as part of Operation Herrick, where his job was to coordinate fast work forward of larger parts of his brigade, alongside reconnaissance elements. Being used to this from Iraq, Daniel did well, solidifying trust with his team, and with his superiors.
After Afghanistan, Daniel took to the Special Air Service, feeling confident and slightly disconnected from home. He never knew home, really, except among the mutual struggles he held in life. He met others like himself in the military.
The SAS took him on, with gruelling challenges to train him, as well as continued work under the service that remained in the Middle East, yet never questioning his orders.
Then, a final opportunity. He was seen as too useful and loyal for even just leading a SAS group, and Daniel accepted a far, far more secretive line of work. |
8,440 | 231 | 4 | 2,221 | 185 | Serena tapped her finger against her knee idly, her full focus dedicated to the Russian, Bo, as they called him. A steady gaze wandered upon the other members, her eyes resting upon each of them for just a short moment. Serena hadn’t served in an international unit before, though she had served alongside foreigners. It was an interesting change, though the life with The Ninth had been interesting enough already.
The woman’s attention briefly swapped to the short haired Spanish woman, Isabela, far as she recalled. So far, Isabela had been the person most alike Serena, in terms of nationality, at least. A latin country, just like her own. They were yet to talk properly though, it seemed like all of them were.
Alas, Serena turned her head back towards Melnikov, as he finished up the briefing. Instinctively, she rose to her feet, grabbing her trusty rifle just as her teammates had done. Her ear flickered towards the question from Daniel, squinting her eyes in agreement. There was bound to be resistance on the way, at least she was expecting it to happen. Before Boris could properly answer Daniel, Serena followed up his question with another.
“Speaking of an interception, what’s the rules of engagement?” She asked, her Italian accent being heard from every few words. “Do not engage before fired upon?” | Name: Serena Adesso
Alias: N/A
Nickname/Callsign (How to be called over radio): Patch
Date of birth: 24/01/1988
Place of Birth: Siena, Italy
Citizenship: Italian
Languages: Italian, English
(if picture is provided some things can be left blank)
Height: 5'5
Weight: 135 lbs
Eye color: Brown
Hair color/cut: See picture, cut usually shorter.
Body type: Toned and athletic
(several units are allowed as long as the transition is legit)
Country: Italy
Unit/s: 9th Parachute Assault Regiment "Col Moschin"
Previous MOS-Occupation/s: Esercito Italiano – Italian army
Rank (last one achieved): Lieutenant (Field Medic)
Duration of service: 9
Tour/s of duty: 5 x 180 day tours, Afghanistan, 5 x 180 day tours (The Ninth)
(Awards are optional)
Uniform: - Official 9th Regiment Uniform – see picture.
Armor:- Kevlar vest and helmet.
Weapons: -
Heckler & Koch Hk 416 equipped with a regular Red Dot Sight, magnifier, Angled foregrip, surpresser if needed.
Fabrique Nationale Five-seven pistol, surpresser if needed.
Standard folding knife.
Backkpack: -
Six ration packs.
Water canteen.
Notebook and pen.
First aid kit.
7 extra standard issue bandages.
3 x Emergency Trauma bandage
2 x liquid bottles for wound cleaning.
6 x Adrenaline shots.
2 IV bags.
Morphine.
Antibiotics.
Phenergan.
Night vision goggles.
Ammunition/others
Five loaded 30 round magazines for the 416.
7 loaded 11 round magazines for the Five Seven.
3 M67 grenades.
3 smoke grenades.
CV- Serena was born and raised in Siena, Italy. Her father was a car mechanic, and her mother owned a small bakery. Nothing specific set the tone for a future in the military. She picked up Muay Thai and Brazilian Jiu Jitsu at 10, originally as a dare from a childhood friend. The Italian girl managed to acquire a brown belt in BJJ at the age of 19. She participated in several nationwide competitions, finding herself being used to relying on herself in pressured situations. Serena completed her education, always seeing herself becoming a doctor.
Plans changed when she passed a recruitment station as a 17 year old. She aspired towards joining the Italian military, which she did at the age of 20. Passing the initial tests, Serena quickly sought towards a role of medical service. She was assigned as a field medic, her knowledge of medicine and treatment serving as a good starting point. Serena met a woman from Isreal during her training, eventually befriending her and visiting her home in Isreal. There, the woman gifted Serena an Isreali uniform as a present, of which Serena carried to a family gathering in Isreal along her friend. (Picture of Serena is from the given situation.)
After several deployments and years of service, Serena’s extraordinary service as a field medic was noticed by the 9th Reggimento d'Assalto Paracadutisti, and she was taken in at the age of 26. Once again, Serena found herself being assigned as a field medic. During classified missions with her assigned squad, codenamed “Cacciatori Felici” Serena had plenty of time to perfect her medical skills, eventually granting her the nickname of ‘La Benda” or simply ‘Patch’ in English, as a reference to her skills with patching her fellow comrades up.
Eventually being promoted to Lieutenant, Serena had fought alongside her squad for 3 years. During a Seek and Destroy mission in Afghanistan, the parachuting soldiers found themselves several miles from their target. The pilot had accidentaly called the order to jump far too early, leaving the 9th to spend hours searching for their target in the dead of the night. Once they arrived, the squad found themselves surrounded by far more enemies than intel had suggested. A firefight broke out, lasting several hours. Two of her fellow soldiers were shot dead, and a 3rd almost bled to death, only saved by a makeshift patch Serena ripped from her shirt. The rest of them eventually found themselves pushing the lines back, until they could reach the inner structures of the compound, which contained the target they came to eliminate. The mission was called a success, though the Cacciatori Felici had suffered heavy losses, the first in five years. Now, however, Serena was contacted by an entirely new position. She agreed, once again prepared to serve as a field medic. |
8,441 | 231 | 5 | 104 | 127 | Boris slammed his locker close, the headset dangling around his neck, mask and googles in the helmet which he held in his right.
"If it was easy they would not have sent us. You should listen to the briefing more closely next time, even if there is a safe cordon around the city center we still have to deal with saboteur commandos. Like mentioned,"
He pointed at the rifle which was hanging down on a sling, " that is the reason why we have those."
Then Bo tilted his head towards Serena, his eyes scanned her, yet he kept the assessment to himself.
"We´re bogeymen, this might be the first time for some of you but we act outside the conventional rules on engagement.
Since we do not know if the intelligence is compromised and the enemy might be in disguise, the engagement is on your own terms. Just don´t do anything you will regret. If you screw up there won´t be a court martial, investigation or anything. You will simply be replaced, period. We do not exist, so there is no crime for us. But that does not mean we forgot what ethics are."
With that Bo considered the questions answered appropriately, he pulled the balaclava over his head, put on the headset, strapped the helmet and pulled on the glasses. Last but not least he checked if his M203 was empty before heaving the backpack onto his back.
"Once you´re done meet me at the vehicles. We´re in the parking lot A, deck 2." he stepped out, trough the door he came in, making his way trough the lit hallways. The air was used, reeked of sweat and gun oil and together with the neon lamps it was a gloomy atmosphere. Especially while hearing the muffled gunfire and explosions from inside the city.
As expected he was the first to be at the cars, Bo put his backpack into the truck of vehicle 1 (one out of two), the lead vehicle. Though he only got into the passenger seat to ride shotgun, he´d be navigating and operating the radio for the duration of the trip. | Name:Boris Melnikov
Alias:Thomasz Volkin (Fake Passport)
Nickname/Callsign (How to be called over radio):Bo
Date of birth:5MAY1978
Place of Birth:St:Petersburg
Citizenship:Russian/German
Languages:Russian,German,English,Italian,Arabic
Physical Information
(if picture is provided some things can be left blank)
Height:6`0
Weight:198
Eye color: Brown
Hair color/cut: Dark Blonde
Body type:wiry but muscular, agile
Military Information and Service Records
(several units are allowed as long as the transition is legit)
Country:Russia
Unit/s:BKA,VDV, GRU SpetsNaz "Vympel" group
Previous MOS-Occupation/s:Comissioner(BKA), Designated Marksman(VDV), Element Leader/Point Man(GRU)
Rank (last one achieved):Captain
Duration of service: 18 years
Tour/s of duty:5x 180 day tours(VDV and SpetsNaz), 22 tours under Vympel (varies from 1-5 months)
(Awards are optional)
Gear
Backpack
(aside from the things pointed out in the pic)
a thermo CamelBack
40m of rope with carbines
3 Water bottles
IFAK kit
6 cut down rations
SOFLAM+2 Batteries
PRC-152 spare antena
5 STANAG mags 5.56
4 433 HEDP 40mm
2 CS 40mm
Crowbar
PVS-14
Gas Mask
2x RGO FRAG grenades
2x M18 Smoke grenades
2x AN/M14 Incendiary grenades
Explosives filled wire, 8m
Can of termite paste
Sat Phone
Vest, Pockets, Body
Trauma kit
12 STANAG mags
2 RGO FRAG grenades
1 M84 Flashbang
3 433 HEDP 40mm
1 CS 40mm
Trauma kit
3 FN 5.7 mags
Leatherman Multi tool
M9 Bayonet (compass, purification tablets and wire in the handle)
4 M112 Charges (each 250 gram)
Fuses
M52 Clacker
Fishing wire
Garmin Fortex GPS watch
Map
IR lens
PRC-152 Radio
Piece of chalk
isolation tape
Personal Information
Hobbies:Reading, Gym, Cooking, Range, FMA (Filipino Martial Arts), Motorcycles
Injuries(old and new): several scars, a few broken bones
Mental Health Issues(such as PTSD): Insomnia
Preferred Hand to Hand Style(Krav Maga or others):Sambo, Pencak Silat
Bio/CV:Boris lived most of his childhood in Russian under rough circumstances. He was stealing food when being hungry, getting into brawls with neighborhood kids and running from the police. A normal kid of his town so to say.His mother immigrated towards the west ,later she met Boris´s new stepfather there.While attending school he forged friendships with many kids like him and quickly came to an understanding that as a minority some doors were open to him, which led to contact with drugs and firerarms in early youth. He knew too good what came from drugs since he experienced a lot of misery and violence caused by them but the hunger for money and status made him roll with it and hustle. Up until he finished school Boris kept in touch with with shady friends and bad company . The reason he maintained a good physical form trough lifting, running and martial arts was that he always had an affinity towards the military. But he wasn´t taken into the academy,even though he was in good physical shape and spoke 4 languages at that time, and started studying psychology.After finishing his psychology degree Bo decided that it wasn´t his way, he left the university with 21 and enlisted into the BKA where earned a degree in public administration and a certificate in Arabic. After that he decided give into the urge to go back to his homeland, where he served first in the Airborne Troops Mountain Division, where he learned mountaineering, to earn his citizenship back which he lost after the German naturalization, until he was 26.Then the GRU Spetsnaz where he became a Staff Sergeant with 28 and 5 tours, there he was put into the position of a Pointman/Marksman due to his past MOS in the VDV.The GRU (Spetsnaz) transferred him to Vympel(Recon,Sabotage,HVT Operations), where Boris learned everything a military spook needs(emphasis on Vympel´s jurisdiction) and also attended OCS which was mandatory, due to his cultural and language knowledge, he became a person of interest for European and middle eastern operations. Boris was married to Katja Melnikov which was killed by separatists as a retaliation for Bo´s operations Chechnya, Africa and South America. Ever since he is a single father, taking care of his 15 year old daughter Natasha. It is hard for him to handle the life of a single parent while also being on constant stand by in case a deployment comes up. .
Munition:
17x STANAG 5.56 -510 rounds
4x 5.7 Mags- 80 rounds
7x 40mm 433HEDP
3x 40mm CS round
4x RGO Fragmentation grenades
2x M18 White smoke
1x M84
2x AN/M14
4x M112 C4 blocks
Perishables-used/lost:
N/A |
8,442 | 231 | 6 | 2,708 | 1,209 | Tokarev was leaning against the wall, casually talking with some of his teammates. They would be his comrades for the time being, so the least he could do was to break the ice with some of them.
*Clap* *Clap* "Alright, listen up!"
The room went silent, not that it was loud to begin with. Melnikov had come to brief them. Vadim, his focus on Melnikov, carefully listened to the briefing.
After Melnikov finished, Vadim immediately walked over to his locker, right next to David's.
"This sounds too easy..."
Having put on his plate carrier and backpack, he picked up his helmet and ran his fingers over it, feeling a small trail of scratches and dents. Syria, 2016 - mine, 8 meters away. Easy or not, you have to be prepared for anything, thats part of the job description.
*SLAM*
Vadim put his helmet down and turned to Melnikov when he began answering David's & Serena's questions. When he left the room, Vadim put on his headset, turned to David and said:
"Somebody is stuck up."
Having said that, he put on his shades, grabbed his rifle with his right hand, barrel pointing up, and helmet with his left, with the half mask attached to it dangling below, and headed for the parking lot. | Name: Isabela Bryant
Alias: N/A
Nickname/Callsign: Mortimer
Date of birth: 1-4-1987
Place of Birth: Sevilla, Spain
Citizenship: Spanish
Languages: Spanish, Portuguese, English
♦Physical Information
Height: 5'6
Weight: 132 lbs
Eye color: Green
Hair color/cut: See image
Body type: Slender, toned
♦Military Information and Service Records
Country: Spain
Unit/s: Guardia Civil (Civil Guard)
Previous MOS-Occupation/s: Unidad Especial de Intervención (Special Intervention Unit)
Rank (last one achieved): Capitán (Captain)
Duration of service: Thirteen years
Tour/s of duty: N/A
♦Gear
Uniform: See image
Armor: Kevlar helmet and vest
Weapons: M4 rifle with ACOG scope attachment, Glock 19 with Viridian C5L-R, generic folding knife
Backpack: Two chicken, spaghetti, and beef MREs, small flashlight, a pack of AA and AAA batteries, water canteen, miscellaneous toiletries, APX 8000 P25 portable radio, ATN PS15-4 Night Vision Goggles, SwissTool X, 4 M67 grenades, tripwire, first aid kit
Ammunition/Others:Five fully-loaded magazines for the M4, 100 rounds for the Glock 19
Tracker:180 5.56×45mm NATO rounds, 115 9mm rounds, 4 M67 grenades
♦Personal Information
Hobbies: Drawing, reading, swimming, cooking, collecting pocket watches
Injuries(old and new): Scar on her left thigh.
Mental Health Issues(such as PTSD): None
Preferred Hand to Hand Style(Krav Maga or others): Boxing
Bio/CV: Being an only child, Isabela had a rather comfortable upbringing. She was born and raised in a middle-class home and was never particularly deprived of any essential childhood experiences. When she was younger, she picked up a passion for drawing after taking an art class. She continued on that path well into her late teens. Isabela’s parents were expecting for her to make a career out of art, but she surprised them when she confessed to them what her intentions were. Even though they were not the least bit pleased with her decision, they nonetheless respected and supported her choice.
Upon finishing secondary school, Isabela didn’t waste any time starting her university career. She went into the language program to get her degree in English and after a semester, also pursued a joint education in police studies. She finished in three and a half years given that she refrained from working throughout that time and was able to take advantage of the free time she had. After she graduated, she joined the Civil Guard. The training phase was somewhat of a wake-up call, but prior to her arrival she had been training for months. Going out on jogs, taking boxing classes, strength training, etc. She was then taken into phase two where she’d receive the rest of her training to become an officer. The training was tougher, but she welcomed the challenge and in the end, graduated second in class.
Given that she had successfully completed all formal training, Isabela had to pick a field. She knew what she wanted from the beginning and she chose to join the Special Intervention Unit where she'd lead a small team of men and women. At first, it seemed like she was unstoppable, but she soon found out the hard way that life isn't without struggles. During a live fire exercise training, her thigh was grazed by a bullet after one of her subordinates failed to safely handle his weapon during a misfire. The individual responsible was heavily reprimanded, and Isabela was given a desk job for a couple of months both for medical reasons and as punishment for failing to properly execute a training exercise. She returned to full duty after some time, where not only did she become a better leader, but a better person as well. Initially, she was judged as being more strict by those she'd work with for years, but the payoff was clearly evident as she slowly gained rank and one day, pulled into her superior's office to be offered a new position. If she agreed, she'd be getting deployed to be alongside intelligence officers working in their nation's best interest. She'd never gone overseas, but she saw it as an opportunity to get further ahead in her career. Isabela understood how dangerous her job would be given that she'd be in hostile territory and out on the field much more than before, but she believed she was ready for this new chapter of her life. |
8,443 | 231 | 7 | 104 | 127 | Boris puckered his lips, of course she couldn´t see it, then he shook his head. The radio has been playing while Bo waited for the others, now he reached for it, turned down the volume, "No, not at all." was the only thing he said to Isabela. Then he took out his phone, dialed a number which he had on speed dial. Moments passed in silence, he could hear and Isabelas breath, finally the other side picked up.
"Good morning sunshine, don´t be late for school"
"Oh...am I too early? Sorry, must´ve mistaken the time.."
"No no, go back to bed. Just make sure your alarm is set."
"Yes.. uncle Dima will pick you up for school...like always.."
"Well, Natasha, you are a pretty girl. Many guys would dare to kidnap you while I am away." he chuckled slightly.
"Alright sweetheart, I´ll talk to you as soon as I can. But you know....this meetings can take forever."
"I love you too, now hush under the blanket before you get cold."
When the talk was over Bo´s phone disappeared in one of his pockets and he turned the radio louder again. His voice during the talk, had been completely different than the one in the locker room.
The vehicle was old, so it had no board computer or navigation system. Boris took out his Garmin GPS fed it the coordinates of their destination, checking back by using a map like they were sold in any tourist bureau or book store. From time to time he tried to scratch his chin, while scribbling all over the map with a pencil. A good while passed before he looked over to Isabella, "Do you have experience with driving under fire?" he asked, seemingly on the side.
"If not, today will probably be your first time." a sigh escaped his mouth, Boris looked outside. Not much of the city was visible from where they were, but the tracer rounds lighting the midnight sky were still impressive.
"Are you thinking the same as the others? That this will go bad?" | Name:Boris Melnikov
Alias:Thomasz Volkin (Fake Passport)
Nickname/Callsign (How to be called over radio):Bo
Date of birth:5MAY1978
Place of Birth:St:Petersburg
Citizenship:Russian/German
Languages:Russian,German,English,Italian,Arabic
Physical Information
(if picture is provided some things can be left blank)
Height:6`0
Weight:198
Eye color: Brown
Hair color/cut: Dark Blonde
Body type:wiry but muscular, agile
Military Information and Service Records
(several units are allowed as long as the transition is legit)
Country:Russia
Unit/s:BKA,VDV, GRU SpetsNaz "Vympel" group
Previous MOS-Occupation/s:Comissioner(BKA), Designated Marksman(VDV), Element Leader/Point Man(GRU)
Rank (last one achieved):Captain
Duration of service: 18 years
Tour/s of duty:5x 180 day tours(VDV and SpetsNaz), 22 tours under Vympel (varies from 1-5 months)
(Awards are optional)
Gear
Backpack
(aside from the things pointed out in the pic)
a thermo CamelBack
40m of rope with carbines
3 Water bottles
IFAK kit
6 cut down rations
SOFLAM+2 Batteries
PRC-152 spare antena
5 STANAG mags 5.56
4 433 HEDP 40mm
2 CS 40mm
Crowbar
PVS-14
Gas Mask
2x RGO FRAG grenades
2x M18 Smoke grenades
2x AN/M14 Incendiary grenades
Explosives filled wire, 8m
Can of termite paste
Sat Phone
Vest, Pockets, Body
Trauma kit
12 STANAG mags
2 RGO FRAG grenades
1 M84 Flashbang
3 433 HEDP 40mm
1 CS 40mm
Trauma kit
3 FN 5.7 mags
Leatherman Multi tool
M9 Bayonet (compass, purification tablets and wire in the handle)
4 M112 Charges (each 250 gram)
Fuses
M52 Clacker
Fishing wire
Garmin Fortex GPS watch
Map
IR lens
PRC-152 Radio
Piece of chalk
isolation tape
Personal Information
Hobbies:Reading, Gym, Cooking, Range, FMA (Filipino Martial Arts), Motorcycles
Injuries(old and new): several scars, a few broken bones
Mental Health Issues(such as PTSD): Insomnia
Preferred Hand to Hand Style(Krav Maga or others):Sambo, Pencak Silat
Bio/CV:Boris lived most of his childhood in Russian under rough circumstances. He was stealing food when being hungry, getting into brawls with neighborhood kids and running from the police. A normal kid of his town so to say.His mother immigrated towards the west ,later she met Boris´s new stepfather there.While attending school he forged friendships with many kids like him and quickly came to an understanding that as a minority some doors were open to him, which led to contact with drugs and firerarms in early youth. He knew too good what came from drugs since he experienced a lot of misery and violence caused by them but the hunger for money and status made him roll with it and hustle. Up until he finished school Boris kept in touch with with shady friends and bad company . The reason he maintained a good physical form trough lifting, running and martial arts was that he always had an affinity towards the military. But he wasn´t taken into the academy,even though he was in good physical shape and spoke 4 languages at that time, and started studying psychology.After finishing his psychology degree Bo decided that it wasn´t his way, he left the university with 21 and enlisted into the BKA where earned a degree in public administration and a certificate in Arabic. After that he decided give into the urge to go back to his homeland, where he served first in the Airborne Troops Mountain Division, where he learned mountaineering, to earn his citizenship back which he lost after the German naturalization, until he was 26.Then the GRU Spetsnaz where he became a Staff Sergeant with 28 and 5 tours, there he was put into the position of a Pointman/Marksman due to his past MOS in the VDV.The GRU (Spetsnaz) transferred him to Vympel(Recon,Sabotage,HVT Operations), where Boris learned everything a military spook needs(emphasis on Vympel´s jurisdiction) and also attended OCS which was mandatory, due to his cultural and language knowledge, he became a person of interest for European and middle eastern operations. Boris was married to Katja Melnikov which was killed by separatists as a retaliation for Bo´s operations Chechnya, Africa and South America. Ever since he is a single father, taking care of his 15 year old daughter Natasha. It is hard for him to handle the life of a single parent while also being on constant stand by in case a deployment comes up. .
Munition:
17x STANAG 5.56 -510 rounds
4x 5.7 Mags- 80 rounds
7x 40mm 433HEDP
3x 40mm CS round
4x RGO Fragmentation grenades
2x M18 White smoke
1x M84
2x AN/M14
4x M112 C4 blocks
Perishables-used/lost:
N/A |
8,444 | 231 | 8 | 2,221 | 185 | Serena kept her arms folded as Boris answered, her expression blank as she gave a light, but clear nod. She met the gaze of Isabela, returning the look with a faint smile. And as the group began gathering the last of their things, Serena walked towards her locker, finding the rest of her own items. Once again, she checked her bag, for the third time. She did not forget things, ever, but it was a simple habit, almost a ritual by now. It had become a strange sense of familiarity in each new environment she found herself in. Surely it seemed strange, but it was time she spent to make sure her mind was in the right place – and it was. Throughout her time in The Ninth she had developed a few rituals alongside her comrades; triple checking their bags was one of them. ‘Una terza volta per buona fortuna.’ they’d say. ‘A third time for good luck’.
Everything was in order, as it should be. The woman tightened the short braid she had made for her hair, to keep it in check during the operation. With a silent thud, Serena closed her locker, grabbed her bag and rifle and headed towards the door. She found two cars outside, one empty and one containing Boris and Isabela. The Italian took a moment outside in the dark, watching the destructive firework in the distance. The sound of muffled gunfire and explosions was a strange one; calming in a sense. It was the instrumental opera; indicating your last minutes to contemplate with yourself before the actual fighting would break out, if it was going to, at least. Her eyes went flew back towards the car; Boris was talking to someone on the phone, most likely an officer of sorts. Nevertheless; Serena approached the car.
The woman sat herself behind Boris, placing her trust 416 between her legs, and pulled up her balaclava, taking in a silent deep breath. Boris had just put the phone down, asking Isabela something as soon as Serena had entered; nothing Serena herself paid a lot of attention to at first. She remained silent, her eyes locked on the horizon, filled with muffled guns and tracer rounds still. It was going to be a long night. | Name: Serena Adesso
Alias: N/A
Nickname/Callsign (How to be called over radio): Patch
Date of birth: 24/01/1988
Place of Birth: Siena, Italy
Citizenship: Italian
Languages: Italian, English
(if picture is provided some things can be left blank)
Height: 5'5
Weight: 135 lbs
Eye color: Brown
Hair color/cut: See picture, cut usually shorter.
Body type: Toned and athletic
(several units are allowed as long as the transition is legit)
Country: Italy
Unit/s: 9th Parachute Assault Regiment "Col Moschin"
Previous MOS-Occupation/s: Esercito Italiano – Italian army
Rank (last one achieved): Lieutenant (Field Medic)
Duration of service: 9
Tour/s of duty: 5 x 180 day tours, Afghanistan, 5 x 180 day tours (The Ninth)
(Awards are optional)
Uniform: - Official 9th Regiment Uniform – see picture.
Armor:- Kevlar vest and helmet.
Weapons: -
Heckler & Koch Hk 416 equipped with a regular Red Dot Sight, magnifier, Angled foregrip, surpresser if needed.
Fabrique Nationale Five-seven pistol, surpresser if needed.
Standard folding knife.
Backkpack: -
Six ration packs.
Water canteen.
Notebook and pen.
First aid kit.
7 extra standard issue bandages.
3 x Emergency Trauma bandage
2 x liquid bottles for wound cleaning.
6 x Adrenaline shots.
2 IV bags.
Morphine.
Antibiotics.
Phenergan.
Night vision goggles.
Ammunition/others
Five loaded 30 round magazines for the 416.
7 loaded 11 round magazines for the Five Seven.
3 M67 grenades.
3 smoke grenades.
CV- Serena was born and raised in Siena, Italy. Her father was a car mechanic, and her mother owned a small bakery. Nothing specific set the tone for a future in the military. She picked up Muay Thai and Brazilian Jiu Jitsu at 10, originally as a dare from a childhood friend. The Italian girl managed to acquire a brown belt in BJJ at the age of 19. She participated in several nationwide competitions, finding herself being used to relying on herself in pressured situations. Serena completed her education, always seeing herself becoming a doctor.
Plans changed when she passed a recruitment station as a 17 year old. She aspired towards joining the Italian military, which she did at the age of 20. Passing the initial tests, Serena quickly sought towards a role of medical service. She was assigned as a field medic, her knowledge of medicine and treatment serving as a good starting point. Serena met a woman from Isreal during her training, eventually befriending her and visiting her home in Isreal. There, the woman gifted Serena an Isreali uniform as a present, of which Serena carried to a family gathering in Isreal along her friend. (Picture of Serena is from the given situation.)
After several deployments and years of service, Serena’s extraordinary service as a field medic was noticed by the 9th Reggimento d'Assalto Paracadutisti, and she was taken in at the age of 26. Once again, Serena found herself being assigned as a field medic. During classified missions with her assigned squad, codenamed “Cacciatori Felici” Serena had plenty of time to perfect her medical skills, eventually granting her the nickname of ‘La Benda” or simply ‘Patch’ in English, as a reference to her skills with patching her fellow comrades up.
Eventually being promoted to Lieutenant, Serena had fought alongside her squad for 3 years. During a Seek and Destroy mission in Afghanistan, the parachuting soldiers found themselves several miles from their target. The pilot had accidentaly called the order to jump far too early, leaving the 9th to spend hours searching for their target in the dead of the night. Once they arrived, the squad found themselves surrounded by far more enemies than intel had suggested. A firefight broke out, lasting several hours. Two of her fellow soldiers were shot dead, and a 3rd almost bled to death, only saved by a makeshift patch Serena ripped from her shirt. The rest of them eventually found themselves pushing the lines back, until they could reach the inner structures of the compound, which contained the target they came to eliminate. The mission was called a success, though the Cacciatori Felici had suffered heavy losses, the first in five years. Now, however, Serena was contacted by an entirely new position. She agreed, once again prepared to serve as a field medic. |
8,445 | 231 | 9 | 494 | 38 | Walking down the gloomy neon lit hallway, Vadim lowered his rifle. Even from here he could hear the distant shots and explosions coming from within the city. Under normal circumstances it should have been the city that echoed from the shouts of fans - friends, families and lovers that would be here to support the teams and players playing the football matches. But now, to the citizens of this city such a memory would not be so distant, and yet, it would feel so foreign. Atleast, thats what Vadim thought.
He stopped for a second, letting Isabella and Serena pass him. Having put on his helmet, the half mask still dangling. Vadim took a guarana shot, after all he would need all the energy he could have right now.
"Парковка A..." He muttered to himself as he walked into the parking lot. Logically, Melnikov was the first one to leave the locker room, so he was the first one to arrive. He was riding shotgun in the lead car, Isabella was the driver and Serena sat in the rear. Vadim decided to drive the second car. Popping the boot, Vadim put his bag into the trunk. Leaving the hatch open, he sat into the drivers seat and said: "Last one into the car closes the trunk!" Taking off his shades, he slid its temples into the closed sun visor. Relaxing in the seat and properly attaching his mask to the helmet, Vadim waited for everyone to get into the cars. | Name: Daniel Aleksander Mazlow
Alias:
Nickname/Callsign (How to be called over radio): Low
Date of birth: 30/06/1985
Place of Birth: Katowice, Poland
Citizenship: British, Polish
Languages: Polish, English, Russian, French
Physical Information
Height: 5 ft 8 in
Weight: 139 lb
Body type: Lightweight, rectangular torso.
Military Information and Service Records
Country: Britain
Unit/s: 3rd Division, 22 SAS
Previous MOS-Occupation/s: Mechanic/Light Cavalry Engineer, Fireteam leader, Corporal, Paratrooper officer
Rank (last one achieved): Corporal
Duration of service: 14 years
Tour/s of duty: 4 x 180 day tours (1st Armoured Inf.), 2009-12 Afghanistan (Household Cavalry), 5 x 180 day tours (SAS)
Awards: Iraq Medal, Afghanistan Operational Medal
Gear
-MTP uniform, black gas mask, waterproof camouflaged coat, gloves and boots, protective ESS (Eye Safety System) goggles
-Osprey body armour, Mk 6 helmet
-C8 Carbine, suppressed with ACOG scope and adjustable stock
-SIG Sauer P226, suppressed
-Single edge combat knife, folding with large grip end (for blunt hitting)
-1 flashbang, 2 fragmentation grenades, 2 M18 black smoke grenades
-6 STANAG detachable magazines with 30 rounds, 2 9mm handgun magazines with 15 rounds.
-'First Tactical' backpack (green), handaxe, first aid kit, compact set of basic mechanic tools, short-range radio, satellite phone, electrical tools (cables, spare circuit parts, etc.), 3 AA battery packs, two torches- small and medium, both lightweight, three MREs and canned meat, large thermos, rope, waterproof watch with compass, toilet paper, weapon repair and cleaning kit, remotely detonating explosives, electrician's and mechanical handbooks, notebook with pen.
Personal Information
Hobbies: Martial arts, non-fiction and journalistic reading, photography, electronics
Injuries: Missing part of earlobe- left, burn and graze scars on legs and hands, large scar on middle finger.
Mental Health Issues(such as PTSD): Non-clinical anxiety
Preferred Hand to Hand Style: Karate, Tae Kwon Do, kickboxing
Bio/CV: Born to a dishonest mother and often-missing father, Daniel suffered family troubles from the day he was born. Around the time the family moved, his father had taken multiple penalties for participating in Solidarity protests, leaving him more absent than ever due to arrests. By 1990, the economic situation was slowly worsening from the collapse of the Soviet Union, and the toddler found himself traveling to the United Kingdom.
While there, Daniel's parents divorced due to his mother's emotional manipulation and abuse, ending up in his father's new home, half of his money taken away. Growing up in Manchester, he learnt English quickly to fit in with the others around him. He grew up in a poor neighbourhood but nevertheless determined to make himself stand out, through his nationality.
Daniel's pride got him into trouble, though to his perception, the cause was enough. Unwilling to take insults to his identity or family, he earned a name as someone quick to anger with the right words, throughout his school journey.
At home, throughout his younger childhood, his bitter father was pushed on by both his wife and those hostile to his presence. After seeing numerous issues outside of school, a young Daniel took matters into his own hands and asked a good friend if he could help.
Help he did- the surrounding neighbourhoods were notorious for their crime, whether or not organised, and Daniel knew numerous gangs roamed the communities. He did not know, however, that his friends were so close to those groups.
Questions were asked, and within a few days of Daniel reporting the verbal crimes, a fire had mysteriously taken place within the area, almost killing a family of six, as well as another where a shared adult home collapsed due to a blaze, crippling both men inside. It was found that what happened was definitely arson, yet, no suspects to be found.
With the case dropped, Daniel's father saw that one side of security was made. Attitude and parenting improved.
Despite his mother's lingering presence like the smoke brought on by a sympathetic criminal, Daniel ended his secondary education with GCSEs, and was wondering what direction he'd actually take in life. He had college forms, and his own interests outside of school- he enjoyed martial arts, as it served both his body and his social status, as well as reading what he could (though he started fairly late- his disordered childhood left little time or motivation for things like that).
Then a signpost, bathed in fire and headlines, struck his attention- the attack on the World Trade Centre.
Daniel never wanted to find his fortune in crime or dealing drugs, not like the friends he visited in prison sometimes. It was attractive after a good action film, but certainly not in reality. With that held in mind, he concentrated on a path into the military.
He joined the land forces as soon as he ended college, with high scores in a number of mechanical and practical subjects, allowing him to land positions as a frontline engineer in the British Army. He was put into the 3rd Mechanised Division, mostly operating as a cavalry member. Due to his newfound motivations driven by a realisation that his apparently close friends would easily forget him and an attempt to spite his mother, Daniel worked as hard as he could, forcing himself to sometimes work harder than necessary.
His exhaustion came at a low price of being called an "arse-kissing officer's pussy," to quote one man. The discipline of work did not translate to his socialization; a brawl broke out.
Naturally, he was punished with a warning and menial work outside of the fighting zones, but it seemed to be a stroke of strange, and yet cold luck. A few men in his organisation fell to fighting during Telic.
Telic finished, a later notation of his hard work led Mazlow into the first officer work so far, as a leader of a team. He remained in a cavalry role, but this time in Afghanistan, as part of Operation Herrick, where his job was to coordinate fast work forward of larger parts of his brigade, alongside reconnaissance elements. Being used to this from Iraq, Daniel did well, solidifying trust with his team, and with his superiors.
After Afghanistan, Daniel took to the Special Air Service, feeling confident and slightly disconnected from home. He never knew home, really, except among the mutual struggles he held in life. He met others like himself in the military.
The SAS took him on, with gruelling challenges to train him, as well as continued work under the service that remained in the Middle East, yet never questioning his orders.
Then, a final opportunity. He was seen as too useful and loyal for even just leading a SAS group, and Daniel accepted a far, far more secretive line of work. |
8,446 | 231 | 10 | 494 | 38 | | Name: Daniel Aleksander Mazlow
Alias:
Nickname/Callsign (How to be called over radio): Low
Date of birth: 30/06/1985
Place of Birth: Katowice, Poland
Citizenship: British, Polish
Languages: Polish, English, Russian, French
Physical Information
Height: 5 ft 8 in
Weight: 139 lb
Body type: Lightweight, rectangular torso.
Military Information and Service Records
Country: Britain
Unit/s: 3rd Division, 22 SAS
Previous MOS-Occupation/s: Mechanic/Light Cavalry Engineer, Fireteam leader, Corporal, Paratrooper officer
Rank (last one achieved): Corporal
Duration of service: 14 years
Tour/s of duty: 4 x 180 day tours (1st Armoured Inf.), 2009-12 Afghanistan (Household Cavalry), 5 x 180 day tours (SAS)
Awards: Iraq Medal, Afghanistan Operational Medal
Gear
-MTP uniform, black gas mask, waterproof camouflaged coat, gloves and boots, protective ESS (Eye Safety System) goggles
-Osprey body armour, Mk 6 helmet
-C8 Carbine, suppressed with ACOG scope and adjustable stock
-SIG Sauer P226, suppressed
-Single edge combat knife, folding with large grip end (for blunt hitting)
-1 flashbang, 2 fragmentation grenades, 2 M18 black smoke grenades
-6 STANAG detachable magazines with 30 rounds, 2 9mm handgun magazines with 15 rounds.
-'First Tactical' backpack (green), handaxe, first aid kit, compact set of basic mechanic tools, short-range radio, satellite phone, electrical tools (cables, spare circuit parts, etc.), 3 AA battery packs, two torches- small and medium, both lightweight, three MREs and canned meat, large thermos, rope, waterproof watch with compass, toilet paper, weapon repair and cleaning kit, remotely detonating explosives, electrician's and mechanical handbooks, notebook with pen.
Personal Information
Hobbies: Martial arts, non-fiction and journalistic reading, photography, electronics
Injuries: Missing part of earlobe- left, burn and graze scars on legs and hands, large scar on middle finger.
Mental Health Issues(such as PTSD): Non-clinical anxiety
Preferred Hand to Hand Style: Karate, Tae Kwon Do, kickboxing
Bio/CV: Born to a dishonest mother and often-missing father, Daniel suffered family troubles from the day he was born. Around the time the family moved, his father had taken multiple penalties for participating in Solidarity protests, leaving him more absent than ever due to arrests. By 1990, the economic situation was slowly worsening from the collapse of the Soviet Union, and the toddler found himself traveling to the United Kingdom.
While there, Daniel's parents divorced due to his mother's emotional manipulation and abuse, ending up in his father's new home, half of his money taken away. Growing up in Manchester, he learnt English quickly to fit in with the others around him. He grew up in a poor neighbourhood but nevertheless determined to make himself stand out, through his nationality.
Daniel's pride got him into trouble, though to his perception, the cause was enough. Unwilling to take insults to his identity or family, he earned a name as someone quick to anger with the right words, throughout his school journey.
At home, throughout his younger childhood, his bitter father was pushed on by both his wife and those hostile to his presence. After seeing numerous issues outside of school, a young Daniel took matters into his own hands and asked a good friend if he could help.
Help he did- the surrounding neighbourhoods were notorious for their crime, whether or not organised, and Daniel knew numerous gangs roamed the communities. He did not know, however, that his friends were so close to those groups.
Questions were asked, and within a few days of Daniel reporting the verbal crimes, a fire had mysteriously taken place within the area, almost killing a family of six, as well as another where a shared adult home collapsed due to a blaze, crippling both men inside. It was found that what happened was definitely arson, yet, no suspects to be found.
With the case dropped, Daniel's father saw that one side of security was made. Attitude and parenting improved.
Despite his mother's lingering presence like the smoke brought on by a sympathetic criminal, Daniel ended his secondary education with GCSEs, and was wondering what direction he'd actually take in life. He had college forms, and his own interests outside of school- he enjoyed martial arts, as it served both his body and his social status, as well as reading what he could (though he started fairly late- his disordered childhood left little time or motivation for things like that).
Then a signpost, bathed in fire and headlines, struck his attention- the attack on the World Trade Centre.
Daniel never wanted to find his fortune in crime or dealing drugs, not like the friends he visited in prison sometimes. It was attractive after a good action film, but certainly not in reality. With that held in mind, he concentrated on a path into the military.
He joined the land forces as soon as he ended college, with high scores in a number of mechanical and practical subjects, allowing him to land positions as a frontline engineer in the British Army. He was put into the 3rd Mechanised Division, mostly operating as a cavalry member. Due to his newfound motivations driven by a realisation that his apparently close friends would easily forget him and an attempt to spite his mother, Daniel worked as hard as he could, forcing himself to sometimes work harder than necessary.
His exhaustion came at a low price of being called an "arse-kissing officer's pussy," to quote one man. The discipline of work did not translate to his socialization; a brawl broke out.
Naturally, he was punished with a warning and menial work outside of the fighting zones, but it seemed to be a stroke of strange, and yet cold luck. A few men in his organisation fell to fighting during Telic.
Telic finished, a later notation of his hard work led Mazlow into the first officer work so far, as a leader of a team. He remained in a cavalry role, but this time in Afghanistan, as part of Operation Herrick, where his job was to coordinate fast work forward of larger parts of his brigade, alongside reconnaissance elements. Being used to this from Iraq, Daniel did well, solidifying trust with his team, and with his superiors.
After Afghanistan, Daniel took to the Special Air Service, feeling confident and slightly disconnected from home. He never knew home, really, except among the mutual struggles he held in life. He met others like himself in the military.
The SAS took him on, with gruelling challenges to train him, as well as continued work under the service that remained in the Middle East, yet never questioning his orders.
Then, a final opportunity. He was seen as too useful and loyal for even just leading a SAS group, and Daniel accepted a far, far more secretive line of work. |
8,447 | 231 | 11 | 2,708 | 1,209 | It was a simple question, yet it resonated with Isabela. "I'm afraid so, yes," she nodded, finally placing her rifle down between the two front seats after making sure the safety was on. "I have plenty of experience, but strictly speaking I've never been in an actual war zone. But now that I think about it," she stopped, looking forward for a moment before turning to Melnikov once more, "I've never been deployed anywhere overseas." Isabela shrugged her shoulders. "I've traveled for leisure, but that's about it. Guess I'll soon find out what it's actually like, huh?"
She gave Melnikov a slight smile to keep the conversation light, but the fear of the unknown was evident in her eyes. Isabela then looked back at Serena who had remained quiet.
"Welcome aboard! Happy you could join us!"
Noticing that one of their teammates had gotten into the other vehicle, Isabela turned the car on but left it in park. She then noticed the last man also get in the other car.
"Say the word and we're good to go, boss." | Name: Isabela Bryant
Alias: N/A
Nickname/Callsign: Mortimer
Date of birth: 1-4-1987
Place of Birth: Sevilla, Spain
Citizenship: Spanish
Languages: Spanish, Portuguese, English
♦Physical Information
Height: 5'6
Weight: 132 lbs
Eye color: Green
Hair color/cut: See image
Body type: Slender, toned
♦Military Information and Service Records
Country: Spain
Unit/s: Guardia Civil (Civil Guard)
Previous MOS-Occupation/s: Unidad Especial de Intervención (Special Intervention Unit)
Rank (last one achieved): Capitán (Captain)
Duration of service: Thirteen years
Tour/s of duty: N/A
♦Gear
Uniform: See image
Armor: Kevlar helmet and vest
Weapons: M4 rifle with ACOG scope attachment, Glock 19 with Viridian C5L-R, generic folding knife
Backpack: Two chicken, spaghetti, and beef MREs, small flashlight, a pack of AA and AAA batteries, water canteen, miscellaneous toiletries, APX 8000 P25 portable radio, ATN PS15-4 Night Vision Goggles, SwissTool X, 4 M67 grenades, tripwire, first aid kit
Ammunition/Others:Five fully-loaded magazines for the M4, 100 rounds for the Glock 19
Tracker:180 5.56×45mm NATO rounds, 115 9mm rounds, 4 M67 grenades
♦Personal Information
Hobbies: Drawing, reading, swimming, cooking, collecting pocket watches
Injuries(old and new): Scar on her left thigh.
Mental Health Issues(such as PTSD): None
Preferred Hand to Hand Style(Krav Maga or others): Boxing
Bio/CV: Being an only child, Isabela had a rather comfortable upbringing. She was born and raised in a middle-class home and was never particularly deprived of any essential childhood experiences. When she was younger, she picked up a passion for drawing after taking an art class. She continued on that path well into her late teens. Isabela’s parents were expecting for her to make a career out of art, but she surprised them when she confessed to them what her intentions were. Even though they were not the least bit pleased with her decision, they nonetheless respected and supported her choice.
Upon finishing secondary school, Isabela didn’t waste any time starting her university career. She went into the language program to get her degree in English and after a semester, also pursued a joint education in police studies. She finished in three and a half years given that she refrained from working throughout that time and was able to take advantage of the free time she had. After she graduated, she joined the Civil Guard. The training phase was somewhat of a wake-up call, but prior to her arrival she had been training for months. Going out on jogs, taking boxing classes, strength training, etc. She was then taken into phase two where she’d receive the rest of her training to become an officer. The training was tougher, but she welcomed the challenge and in the end, graduated second in class.
Given that she had successfully completed all formal training, Isabela had to pick a field. She knew what she wanted from the beginning and she chose to join the Special Intervention Unit where she'd lead a small team of men and women. At first, it seemed like she was unstoppable, but she soon found out the hard way that life isn't without struggles. During a live fire exercise training, her thigh was grazed by a bullet after one of her subordinates failed to safely handle his weapon during a misfire. The individual responsible was heavily reprimanded, and Isabela was given a desk job for a couple of months both for medical reasons and as punishment for failing to properly execute a training exercise. She returned to full duty after some time, where not only did she become a better leader, but a better person as well. Initially, she was judged as being more strict by those she'd work with for years, but the payoff was clearly evident as she slowly gained rank and one day, pulled into her superior's office to be offered a new position. If she agreed, she'd be getting deployed to be alongside intelligence officers working in their nation's best interest. She'd never gone overseas, but she saw it as an opportunity to get further ahead in her career. Isabela understood how dangerous her job would be given that she'd be in hostile territory and out on the field much more than before, but she believed she was ready for this new chapter of her life. |
8,448 | 231 | 12 | 104 | 127 | Let us hope you won´t make the experience. Boris looked at the vehicle behind them trough the rear view mirror, rolled down the window and pressed the PT button on his wire to talk over the radio. "Alright, we are rolling out if you forgot something your fault." the Vympel operative exclaimed before knocking on the roof of the car with his right, the signal for the driver to roll out.
As Bo had inspected the vehicles previously he discovered that those still had players which played cartridges, so in a touch of nostalgia he prepared the glove compartment of the one he was sitting in.
"Hope you don´t mind some music." Boris opened the compartment which held 3 cartridges he previously placed there, as the vehicle drove onto the highway which was going right past the stadium Bo took one of them and slid it in. He turned off the radio and switched to the player, turning up the volume so the music blared out louder than before from the radio.
Fresh, cold night air was filling the car trough the open window, it bore the scent of salt from the sea. From the his behavior one could easily get the impression that it was only a few friends taking a night ride on the high way, if it only wasn´t for the the explosion several miles ahead of them. 'A 155' he guessed.
At night the fight´s were not as heavy as during day but therefor more infiltration attempts and air strikes occurred, by pressing a switch next to the wheel Bo turned off the lights. 3 light bombers did a overpass on them, they were unlike ones he had seen before and that was something that gave them away. During reconnaissance training inside Vympel they were smoked to memorize military hardware. The jets that just were Indian, HAL Tejas to be exact. But what the hell were Indian jets doing in Thailand?
Bo´s hand was on the PT button again, "Cossack, you´re with Patch. Low and me will take the front, work on obstacles. Mortimer you got the 6. Stick to Cossack and Patch, make sure you got their backs."
The vehicles were approached town center, from there it was only a 15 to 20 minutes drive until their destination. So far nothing interesting had happened, on they Bo saw some abandoned cars on the highway, people pillaging houses, a few traffic jams which they had to avoid trough detour but nobody shot at them. Which was good. And they still had more than 10 hours left until the deadline. | Name:Boris Melnikov
Alias:Thomasz Volkin (Fake Passport)
Nickname/Callsign (How to be called over radio):Bo
Date of birth:5MAY1978
Place of Birth:St:Petersburg
Citizenship:Russian/German
Languages:Russian,German,English,Italian,Arabic
Physical Information
(if picture is provided some things can be left blank)
Height:6`0
Weight:198
Eye color: Brown
Hair color/cut: Dark Blonde
Body type:wiry but muscular, agile
Military Information and Service Records
(several units are allowed as long as the transition is legit)
Country:Russia
Unit/s:BKA,VDV, GRU SpetsNaz "Vympel" group
Previous MOS-Occupation/s:Comissioner(BKA), Designated Marksman(VDV), Element Leader/Point Man(GRU)
Rank (last one achieved):Captain
Duration of service: 18 years
Tour/s of duty:5x 180 day tours(VDV and SpetsNaz), 22 tours under Vympel (varies from 1-5 months)
(Awards are optional)
Gear
Backpack
(aside from the things pointed out in the pic)
a thermo CamelBack
40m of rope with carbines
3 Water bottles
IFAK kit
6 cut down rations
SOFLAM+2 Batteries
PRC-152 spare antena
5 STANAG mags 5.56
4 433 HEDP 40mm
2 CS 40mm
Crowbar
PVS-14
Gas Mask
2x RGO FRAG grenades
2x M18 Smoke grenades
2x AN/M14 Incendiary grenades
Explosives filled wire, 8m
Can of termite paste
Sat Phone
Vest, Pockets, Body
Trauma kit
12 STANAG mags
2 RGO FRAG grenades
1 M84 Flashbang
3 433 HEDP 40mm
1 CS 40mm
Trauma kit
3 FN 5.7 mags
Leatherman Multi tool
M9 Bayonet (compass, purification tablets and wire in the handle)
4 M112 Charges (each 250 gram)
Fuses
M52 Clacker
Fishing wire
Garmin Fortex GPS watch
Map
IR lens
PRC-152 Radio
Piece of chalk
isolation tape
Personal Information
Hobbies:Reading, Gym, Cooking, Range, FMA (Filipino Martial Arts), Motorcycles
Injuries(old and new): several scars, a few broken bones
Mental Health Issues(such as PTSD): Insomnia
Preferred Hand to Hand Style(Krav Maga or others):Sambo, Pencak Silat
Bio/CV:Boris lived most of his childhood in Russian under rough circumstances. He was stealing food when being hungry, getting into brawls with neighborhood kids and running from the police. A normal kid of his town so to say.His mother immigrated towards the west ,later she met Boris´s new stepfather there.While attending school he forged friendships with many kids like him and quickly came to an understanding that as a minority some doors were open to him, which led to contact with drugs and firerarms in early youth. He knew too good what came from drugs since he experienced a lot of misery and violence caused by them but the hunger for money and status made him roll with it and hustle. Up until he finished school Boris kept in touch with with shady friends and bad company . The reason he maintained a good physical form trough lifting, running and martial arts was that he always had an affinity towards the military. But he wasn´t taken into the academy,even though he was in good physical shape and spoke 4 languages at that time, and started studying psychology.After finishing his psychology degree Bo decided that it wasn´t his way, he left the university with 21 and enlisted into the BKA where earned a degree in public administration and a certificate in Arabic. After that he decided give into the urge to go back to his homeland, where he served first in the Airborne Troops Mountain Division, where he learned mountaineering, to earn his citizenship back which he lost after the German naturalization, until he was 26.Then the GRU Spetsnaz where he became a Staff Sergeant with 28 and 5 tours, there he was put into the position of a Pointman/Marksman due to his past MOS in the VDV.The GRU (Spetsnaz) transferred him to Vympel(Recon,Sabotage,HVT Operations), where Boris learned everything a military spook needs(emphasis on Vympel´s jurisdiction) and also attended OCS which was mandatory, due to his cultural and language knowledge, he became a person of interest for European and middle eastern operations. Boris was married to Katja Melnikov which was killed by separatists as a retaliation for Bo´s operations Chechnya, Africa and South America. Ever since he is a single father, taking care of his 15 year old daughter Natasha. It is hard for him to handle the life of a single parent while also being on constant stand by in case a deployment comes up. .
Munition:
17x STANAG 5.56 -510 rounds
4x 5.7 Mags- 80 rounds
7x 40mm 433HEDP
3x 40mm CS round
4x RGO Fragmentation grenades
2x M18 White smoke
1x M84
2x AN/M14
4x M112 C4 blocks
Perishables-used/lost:
N/A |
8,449 | 231 | 13 | 494 | 38 | Lazy motherfucker.
Vadim chuckled as he got into a proper driving position and turned on the car. He kept his G36 close to his chest, stock folded, in case he would need to use it as fast as possible. When Melnikov gave the signal, Vadim shifted the gear into drive and began following the lead car.
...
When the lead car shut off its lights, Vadim followed suit. He caught a glimpse of the three jets that passed over them, muttering:
"Что за..." (What the...)
What startled him was the tailless delta wing configuration on the jets - these weren't F-16s, Chengdus or Migs... While the thought that these were Mirages or Eurofighters did cross his mind, Vadim singled out one type of jet: HAL Tejas from India. So there was only one question left...
"The hell is the IAF doing here?" Vadim exclaimed. He sighted and immediately focused back on the road. No point in worrying about them now, if these truly were Indian jets then we would get confirmation later, he thought.
"Cossack, you're with Patch. Low and me will take the front, work on obstacles. Mortimer you got the 6. Stick to Cossack and Patch, make sure you got their backs."
Using his left hand Vadim pressed the PTT button on his chest: "Cossack here, gotcha."
As they got closer to the front line all the gunshots and explosions from it became louder and more threatening - they were in a true warzone. They took some detours to avoid the biggest obstacles, Melnikov had this planned out rather well. Vadim's respect for the man was growing. Although in his position, Vadim would try to push the Yankees for more intel regarding the CIA station. Dirty means or otherwise.
As they got closer to the AO, Vadim said to Daniel: "Low, keep your eyes peeled. While I doubt an interception might happen before we get to the "Cutthroat's" station," He made a brief pause. "Lord knows into whom we might run into around these parts." | Name: Daniel Aleksander Mazlow
Alias:
Nickname/Callsign (How to be called over radio): Low
Date of birth: 30/06/1985
Place of Birth: Katowice, Poland
Citizenship: British, Polish
Languages: Polish, English, Russian, French
Physical Information
Height: 5 ft 8 in
Weight: 139 lb
Body type: Lightweight, rectangular torso.
Military Information and Service Records
Country: Britain
Unit/s: 3rd Division, 22 SAS
Previous MOS-Occupation/s: Mechanic/Light Cavalry Engineer, Fireteam leader, Corporal, Paratrooper officer
Rank (last one achieved): Corporal
Duration of service: 14 years
Tour/s of duty: 4 x 180 day tours (1st Armoured Inf.), 2009-12 Afghanistan (Household Cavalry), 5 x 180 day tours (SAS)
Awards: Iraq Medal, Afghanistan Operational Medal
Gear
-MTP uniform, black gas mask, waterproof camouflaged coat, gloves and boots, protective ESS (Eye Safety System) goggles
-Osprey body armour, Mk 6 helmet
-C8 Carbine, suppressed with ACOG scope and adjustable stock
-SIG Sauer P226, suppressed
-Single edge combat knife, folding with large grip end (for blunt hitting)
-1 flashbang, 2 fragmentation grenades, 2 M18 black smoke grenades
-6 STANAG detachable magazines with 30 rounds, 2 9mm handgun magazines with 15 rounds.
-'First Tactical' backpack (green), handaxe, first aid kit, compact set of basic mechanic tools, short-range radio, satellite phone, electrical tools (cables, spare circuit parts, etc.), 3 AA battery packs, two torches- small and medium, both lightweight, three MREs and canned meat, large thermos, rope, waterproof watch with compass, toilet paper, weapon repair and cleaning kit, remotely detonating explosives, electrician's and mechanical handbooks, notebook with pen.
Personal Information
Hobbies: Martial arts, non-fiction and journalistic reading, photography, electronics
Injuries: Missing part of earlobe- left, burn and graze scars on legs and hands, large scar on middle finger.
Mental Health Issues(such as PTSD): Non-clinical anxiety
Preferred Hand to Hand Style: Karate, Tae Kwon Do, kickboxing
Bio/CV: Born to a dishonest mother and often-missing father, Daniel suffered family troubles from the day he was born. Around the time the family moved, his father had taken multiple penalties for participating in Solidarity protests, leaving him more absent than ever due to arrests. By 1990, the economic situation was slowly worsening from the collapse of the Soviet Union, and the toddler found himself traveling to the United Kingdom.
While there, Daniel's parents divorced due to his mother's emotional manipulation and abuse, ending up in his father's new home, half of his money taken away. Growing up in Manchester, he learnt English quickly to fit in with the others around him. He grew up in a poor neighbourhood but nevertheless determined to make himself stand out, through his nationality.
Daniel's pride got him into trouble, though to his perception, the cause was enough. Unwilling to take insults to his identity or family, he earned a name as someone quick to anger with the right words, throughout his school journey.
At home, throughout his younger childhood, his bitter father was pushed on by both his wife and those hostile to his presence. After seeing numerous issues outside of school, a young Daniel took matters into his own hands and asked a good friend if he could help.
Help he did- the surrounding neighbourhoods were notorious for their crime, whether or not organised, and Daniel knew numerous gangs roamed the communities. He did not know, however, that his friends were so close to those groups.
Questions were asked, and within a few days of Daniel reporting the verbal crimes, a fire had mysteriously taken place within the area, almost killing a family of six, as well as another where a shared adult home collapsed due to a blaze, crippling both men inside. It was found that what happened was definitely arson, yet, no suspects to be found.
With the case dropped, Daniel's father saw that one side of security was made. Attitude and parenting improved.
Despite his mother's lingering presence like the smoke brought on by a sympathetic criminal, Daniel ended his secondary education with GCSEs, and was wondering what direction he'd actually take in life. He had college forms, and his own interests outside of school- he enjoyed martial arts, as it served both his body and his social status, as well as reading what he could (though he started fairly late- his disordered childhood left little time or motivation for things like that).
Then a signpost, bathed in fire and headlines, struck his attention- the attack on the World Trade Centre.
Daniel never wanted to find his fortune in crime or dealing drugs, not like the friends he visited in prison sometimes. It was attractive after a good action film, but certainly not in reality. With that held in mind, he concentrated on a path into the military.
He joined the land forces as soon as he ended college, with high scores in a number of mechanical and practical subjects, allowing him to land positions as a frontline engineer in the British Army. He was put into the 3rd Mechanised Division, mostly operating as a cavalry member. Due to his newfound motivations driven by a realisation that his apparently close friends would easily forget him and an attempt to spite his mother, Daniel worked as hard as he could, forcing himself to sometimes work harder than necessary.
His exhaustion came at a low price of being called an "arse-kissing officer's pussy," to quote one man. The discipline of work did not translate to his socialization; a brawl broke out.
Naturally, he was punished with a warning and menial work outside of the fighting zones, but it seemed to be a stroke of strange, and yet cold luck. A few men in his organisation fell to fighting during Telic.
Telic finished, a later notation of his hard work led Mazlow into the first officer work so far, as a leader of a team. He remained in a cavalry role, but this time in Afghanistan, as part of Operation Herrick, where his job was to coordinate fast work forward of larger parts of his brigade, alongside reconnaissance elements. Being used to this from Iraq, Daniel did well, solidifying trust with his team, and with his superiors.
After Afghanistan, Daniel took to the Special Air Service, feeling confident and slightly disconnected from home. He never knew home, really, except among the mutual struggles he held in life. He met others like himself in the military.
The SAS took him on, with gruelling challenges to train him, as well as continued work under the service that remained in the Middle East, yet never questioning his orders.
Then, a final opportunity. He was seen as too useful and loyal for even just leading a SAS group, and Daniel accepted a far, far more secretive line of work. |
8,450 | 231 | 14 | 2,221 | 185 | Serena flicked her head up again once Boris assigned the positions over the radio. In response to Vadim, Serena turned on her own radio, speaking into it. “Affirmative. See you out there, Cossack.” She adjusted her position in the seat slightly, furrowing her brows as the jets flew across the sky. The roaring engines were as thunderous cracks throughout the ground beneath them, though it seemed none of the soldiers in the car flinched at all. A familiar sound to a lot of them.
The cars continued to drive through the town, with many different sounds outside. By now, Serena’s eyes had gotten used to the darkness that surrounded the town. She began to see figures in the many streets. Some were scattering around for God knows what, whilst some kids were playing with a bashed-up football in a bomb crater. It was a bittersweet sight; at least they were still trying to play, in this torn up war zone that Bangkok had turned into the last couple of months. The area around the operatives had been somewhat silent so far, besides the occasional gunshot a few streets away.
After a sharp right, Serena squinted her eyes at one of the rooftops. A small figure stood still, before he took off, sprinting across a couple of rooftops, before he disappeared back into the night. It stung in Serena’s stomach at the sight, and she quickly went to turn on her radio again. “Eyes open, everyone. Might just have been a scared mouse, but we’ve got a runner on a rooftop. Could be a lookout, might be more. Patch out.” She wrinkled her nose, pulling the rifle from between her legs, holding it tightly as she continued to scan the houses. Surely, it could have been nothing, but it might’ve not been. | Name: Serena Adesso
Alias: N/A
Nickname/Callsign (How to be called over radio): Patch
Date of birth: 24/01/1988
Place of Birth: Siena, Italy
Citizenship: Italian
Languages: Italian, English
(if picture is provided some things can be left blank)
Height: 5'5
Weight: 135 lbs
Eye color: Brown
Hair color/cut: See picture, cut usually shorter.
Body type: Toned and athletic
(several units are allowed as long as the transition is legit)
Country: Italy
Unit/s: 9th Parachute Assault Regiment "Col Moschin"
Previous MOS-Occupation/s: Esercito Italiano – Italian army
Rank (last one achieved): Lieutenant (Field Medic)
Duration of service: 9
Tour/s of duty: 5 x 180 day tours, Afghanistan, 5 x 180 day tours (The Ninth)
(Awards are optional)
Uniform: - Official 9th Regiment Uniform – see picture.
Armor:- Kevlar vest and helmet.
Weapons: -
Heckler & Koch Hk 416 equipped with a regular Red Dot Sight, magnifier, Angled foregrip, surpresser if needed.
Fabrique Nationale Five-seven pistol, surpresser if needed.
Standard folding knife.
Backkpack: -
Six ration packs.
Water canteen.
Notebook and pen.
First aid kit.
7 extra standard issue bandages.
3 x Emergency Trauma bandage
2 x liquid bottles for wound cleaning.
6 x Adrenaline shots.
2 IV bags.
Morphine.
Antibiotics.
Phenergan.
Night vision goggles.
Ammunition/others
Five loaded 30 round magazines for the 416.
7 loaded 11 round magazines for the Five Seven.
3 M67 grenades.
3 smoke grenades.
CV- Serena was born and raised in Siena, Italy. Her father was a car mechanic, and her mother owned a small bakery. Nothing specific set the tone for a future in the military. She picked up Muay Thai and Brazilian Jiu Jitsu at 10, originally as a dare from a childhood friend. The Italian girl managed to acquire a brown belt in BJJ at the age of 19. She participated in several nationwide competitions, finding herself being used to relying on herself in pressured situations. Serena completed her education, always seeing herself becoming a doctor.
Plans changed when she passed a recruitment station as a 17 year old. She aspired towards joining the Italian military, which she did at the age of 20. Passing the initial tests, Serena quickly sought towards a role of medical service. She was assigned as a field medic, her knowledge of medicine and treatment serving as a good starting point. Serena met a woman from Isreal during her training, eventually befriending her and visiting her home in Isreal. There, the woman gifted Serena an Isreali uniform as a present, of which Serena carried to a family gathering in Isreal along her friend. (Picture of Serena is from the given situation.)
After several deployments and years of service, Serena’s extraordinary service as a field medic was noticed by the 9th Reggimento d'Assalto Paracadutisti, and she was taken in at the age of 26. Once again, Serena found herself being assigned as a field medic. During classified missions with her assigned squad, codenamed “Cacciatori Felici” Serena had plenty of time to perfect her medical skills, eventually granting her the nickname of ‘La Benda” or simply ‘Patch’ in English, as a reference to her skills with patching her fellow comrades up.
Eventually being promoted to Lieutenant, Serena had fought alongside her squad for 3 years. During a Seek and Destroy mission in Afghanistan, the parachuting soldiers found themselves several miles from their target. The pilot had accidentaly called the order to jump far too early, leaving the 9th to spend hours searching for their target in the dead of the night. Once they arrived, the squad found themselves surrounded by far more enemies than intel had suggested. A firefight broke out, lasting several hours. Two of her fellow soldiers were shot dead, and a 3rd almost bled to death, only saved by a makeshift patch Serena ripped from her shirt. The rest of them eventually found themselves pushing the lines back, until they could reach the inner structures of the compound, which contained the target they came to eliminate. The mission was called a success, though the Cacciatori Felici had suffered heavy losses, the first in five years. Now, however, Serena was contacted by an entirely new position. She agreed, once again prepared to serve as a field medic. |
8,451 | 231 | 15 | 104 | 127 | The radio lit up again as Bo pushed the PTT, "Alright, we´ve been made. Don´t know by whom but we´re marked."
Of course it was a little exaggerated but non the less true, common sense would dictate to hide, probably as deep as possible underground as the city was bombarded. Or evacuate if possible. Not to stand on a elevated position, looking for incoming vehicles. Partially it was his fault, nobody sane would drive into a city that was under siege, unless of course they had some sort of business there. Yet it had been the fastest option, plus as soon as they would´ve been in the vehicles would work as perfect cover up.
Chance, that´s the thing that decided everything and by chance they´ve been made in the suburbs of the city. 4 Miles out of the AO.
"Get your weapons ready and fire at will, we might have to push through an ambush if that runner reports." Boris himself had the window rolled down prior, so he only had to rest the weapon on the door.
Since the circumstances changed he was forced to act, putting the satellite phone he had with him to use Boris called a number which transferred his call to the mobile command station.
"This is Melnikov. Fauda, I reapeat, Fauda."
The reply took only a few seconds.
"You heard right, I need all the CIA access codes and passwords right now."
"I know about OPSEC. If you want the data out we still need the access codes."
"Listen, I don´t have to time to work door after door if we got imminent contact."
"Well tell that attache from Langley to get the broom out of his ass. If he won´t comply we´ll just break contact and leave the intel on site, just like OUR protocol tells us to. After all keeping the unit secret is more important than doing the CIA a favor."
"Fine, our sincere thanks then. We´ll follow protocol."
He hung up, more determined than agitated. Stored the phone back in a pouch,pressed his PTT again.
"We´re getting access codes on site...if we require them. We´ve got a real dick as an attache, if we take contact or run out of resources to proceed we´re pulling back." | Name:Boris Melnikov
Alias:Thomasz Volkin (Fake Passport)
Nickname/Callsign (How to be called over radio):Bo
Date of birth:5MAY1978
Place of Birth:St:Petersburg
Citizenship:Russian/German
Languages:Russian,German,English,Italian,Arabic
Physical Information
(if picture is provided some things can be left blank)
Height:6`0
Weight:198
Eye color: Brown
Hair color/cut: Dark Blonde
Body type:wiry but muscular, agile
Military Information and Service Records
(several units are allowed as long as the transition is legit)
Country:Russia
Unit/s:BKA,VDV, GRU SpetsNaz "Vympel" group
Previous MOS-Occupation/s:Comissioner(BKA), Designated Marksman(VDV), Element Leader/Point Man(GRU)
Rank (last one achieved):Captain
Duration of service: 18 years
Tour/s of duty:5x 180 day tours(VDV and SpetsNaz), 22 tours under Vympel (varies from 1-5 months)
(Awards are optional)
Gear
Backpack
(aside from the things pointed out in the pic)
a thermo CamelBack
40m of rope with carbines
3 Water bottles
IFAK kit
6 cut down rations
SOFLAM+2 Batteries
PRC-152 spare antena
5 STANAG mags 5.56
4 433 HEDP 40mm
2 CS 40mm
Crowbar
PVS-14
Gas Mask
2x RGO FRAG grenades
2x M18 Smoke grenades
2x AN/M14 Incendiary grenades
Explosives filled wire, 8m
Can of termite paste
Sat Phone
Vest, Pockets, Body
Trauma kit
12 STANAG mags
2 RGO FRAG grenades
1 M84 Flashbang
3 433 HEDP 40mm
1 CS 40mm
Trauma kit
3 FN 5.7 mags
Leatherman Multi tool
M9 Bayonet (compass, purification tablets and wire in the handle)
4 M112 Charges (each 250 gram)
Fuses
M52 Clacker
Fishing wire
Garmin Fortex GPS watch
Map
IR lens
PRC-152 Radio
Piece of chalk
isolation tape
Personal Information
Hobbies:Reading, Gym, Cooking, Range, FMA (Filipino Martial Arts), Motorcycles
Injuries(old and new): several scars, a few broken bones
Mental Health Issues(such as PTSD): Insomnia
Preferred Hand to Hand Style(Krav Maga or others):Sambo, Pencak Silat
Bio/CV:Boris lived most of his childhood in Russian under rough circumstances. He was stealing food when being hungry, getting into brawls with neighborhood kids and running from the police. A normal kid of his town so to say.His mother immigrated towards the west ,later she met Boris´s new stepfather there.While attending school he forged friendships with many kids like him and quickly came to an understanding that as a minority some doors were open to him, which led to contact with drugs and firerarms in early youth. He knew too good what came from drugs since he experienced a lot of misery and violence caused by them but the hunger for money and status made him roll with it and hustle. Up until he finished school Boris kept in touch with with shady friends and bad company . The reason he maintained a good physical form trough lifting, running and martial arts was that he always had an affinity towards the military. But he wasn´t taken into the academy,even though he was in good physical shape and spoke 4 languages at that time, and started studying psychology.After finishing his psychology degree Bo decided that it wasn´t his way, he left the university with 21 and enlisted into the BKA where earned a degree in public administration and a certificate in Arabic. After that he decided give into the urge to go back to his homeland, where he served first in the Airborne Troops Mountain Division, where he learned mountaineering, to earn his citizenship back which he lost after the German naturalization, until he was 26.Then the GRU Spetsnaz where he became a Staff Sergeant with 28 and 5 tours, there he was put into the position of a Pointman/Marksman due to his past MOS in the VDV.The GRU (Spetsnaz) transferred him to Vympel(Recon,Sabotage,HVT Operations), where Boris learned everything a military spook needs(emphasis on Vympel´s jurisdiction) and also attended OCS which was mandatory, due to his cultural and language knowledge, he became a person of interest for European and middle eastern operations. Boris was married to Katja Melnikov which was killed by separatists as a retaliation for Bo´s operations Chechnya, Africa and South America. Ever since he is a single father, taking care of his 15 year old daughter Natasha. It is hard for him to handle the life of a single parent while also being on constant stand by in case a deployment comes up. .
Munition:
17x STANAG 5.56 -510 rounds
4x 5.7 Mags- 80 rounds
7x 40mm 433HEDP
3x 40mm CS round
4x RGO Fragmentation grenades
2x M18 White smoke
1x M84
2x AN/M14
4x M112 C4 blocks
Perishables-used/lost:
N/A |
8,452 | 231 | 16 | 2,708 | 1,209 | Why are those guys hellbent on making our lives so miserable? Isabela shook her head, not the least bit pleased with how their assignment was turning out so far. "It's almost as if they want us to fail..." She spotted a plastic barrier on the street immediately after turning the corner and she had to maneuver the vehicle with a sharp turn of the steering wheel to avoid hitting it. "Sorry about that," Isabela smirked, "I'm trying to get us there in one piece."
As she continued driving, Isabela started looking out for bodies blending within the buildings that could potentially put her and the rest of the team in even more danger. She'd be damned if she let her skills go to waste during such a high-stakes operation, and she did not want such weight on her shoulders if something were to go terribly wrong, which given the current scenario, it was very probable that at least one of them wouldn't make it back to the stadium unscathed.
Tenemos que hacer todo lo posible para evitar un desastre y entrar a ese sitio... Isabela thought to herself, hoping that this mission wasn't overwhelmed by futility. | Name: Isabela Bryant
Alias: N/A
Nickname/Callsign: Mortimer
Date of birth: 1-4-1987
Place of Birth: Sevilla, Spain
Citizenship: Spanish
Languages: Spanish, Portuguese, English
♦Physical Information
Height: 5'6
Weight: 132 lbs
Eye color: Green
Hair color/cut: See image
Body type: Slender, toned
♦Military Information and Service Records
Country: Spain
Unit/s: Guardia Civil (Civil Guard)
Previous MOS-Occupation/s: Unidad Especial de Intervención (Special Intervention Unit)
Rank (last one achieved): Capitán (Captain)
Duration of service: Thirteen years
Tour/s of duty: N/A
♦Gear
Uniform: See image
Armor: Kevlar helmet and vest
Weapons: M4 rifle with ACOG scope attachment, Glock 19 with Viridian C5L-R, generic folding knife
Backpack: Two chicken, spaghetti, and beef MREs, small flashlight, a pack of AA and AAA batteries, water canteen, miscellaneous toiletries, APX 8000 P25 portable radio, ATN PS15-4 Night Vision Goggles, SwissTool X, 4 M67 grenades, tripwire, first aid kit
Ammunition/Others:Five fully-loaded magazines for the M4, 100 rounds for the Glock 19
Tracker:180 5.56×45mm NATO rounds, 115 9mm rounds, 4 M67 grenades
♦Personal Information
Hobbies: Drawing, reading, swimming, cooking, collecting pocket watches
Injuries(old and new): Scar on her left thigh.
Mental Health Issues(such as PTSD): None
Preferred Hand to Hand Style(Krav Maga or others): Boxing
Bio/CV: Being an only child, Isabela had a rather comfortable upbringing. She was born and raised in a middle-class home and was never particularly deprived of any essential childhood experiences. When she was younger, she picked up a passion for drawing after taking an art class. She continued on that path well into her late teens. Isabela’s parents were expecting for her to make a career out of art, but she surprised them when she confessed to them what her intentions were. Even though they were not the least bit pleased with her decision, they nonetheless respected and supported her choice.
Upon finishing secondary school, Isabela didn’t waste any time starting her university career. She went into the language program to get her degree in English and after a semester, also pursued a joint education in police studies. She finished in three and a half years given that she refrained from working throughout that time and was able to take advantage of the free time she had. After she graduated, she joined the Civil Guard. The training phase was somewhat of a wake-up call, but prior to her arrival she had been training for months. Going out on jogs, taking boxing classes, strength training, etc. She was then taken into phase two where she’d receive the rest of her training to become an officer. The training was tougher, but she welcomed the challenge and in the end, graduated second in class.
Given that she had successfully completed all formal training, Isabela had to pick a field. She knew what she wanted from the beginning and she chose to join the Special Intervention Unit where she'd lead a small team of men and women. At first, it seemed like she was unstoppable, but she soon found out the hard way that life isn't without struggles. During a live fire exercise training, her thigh was grazed by a bullet after one of her subordinates failed to safely handle his weapon during a misfire. The individual responsible was heavily reprimanded, and Isabela was given a desk job for a couple of months both for medical reasons and as punishment for failing to properly execute a training exercise. She returned to full duty after some time, where not only did she become a better leader, but a better person as well. Initially, she was judged as being more strict by those she'd work with for years, but the payoff was clearly evident as she slowly gained rank and one day, pulled into her superior's office to be offered a new position. If she agreed, she'd be getting deployed to be alongside intelligence officers working in their nation's best interest. She'd never gone overseas, but she saw it as an opportunity to get further ahead in her career. Isabela understood how dangerous her job would be given that she'd be in hostile territory and out on the field much more than before, but she believed she was ready for this new chapter of her life. |
8,453 | 231 | 17 | 104 | 127 | Operational security, at least when it comes down to a third party involvement. They do not trust us to handle whatever they´ve got there but it would take way too long to dispatch a SAD unit or ground branch and CAG was not available. Boris explained while scanning the rooftops and turns they passed, the closer they came to their AO the louder gun fire, sirens and explosions were getting louder. Humidified air started to blend with the smell of smoke, heating up due to the fires, there was no need for artificial light as they were illuminating the streets now. As soon as they approached the traffic circle which was marked as their RV point, Boris took out the satellite phone again and called the previous number.
"On site, which one is it?" he was looking around while listening to a description, not much to go off since the area looked completely different after a bombardment.
"Repeat that, the agents put up a flag on the third floor to mark the building before leaving?Wait one..."
Well, chance was a strange thing, Bo realized that when he looked at the remains of a building on which the flag was one of the few things that remained intact.
"1-Actual, target building was destroyed.... I confirm, target building is destroyed. We are pulling back to a safe house. Awaiting further orders on CSAR upon arrival....Understood. Spectre out." the phone went back into his pocket, then Bo pressed his PTT.Though it was only 3a.m the sun began to rise already.
"Well, mission is cancelled. We are pulling back to rendezvous point two." pointing it out on the map with a pen he showed it to Isabela.
"There we´ll execute a final combat search and rescue before leaving the country." | Name:Boris Melnikov
Alias:Thomasz Volkin (Fake Passport)
Nickname/Callsign (How to be called over radio):Bo
Date of birth:5MAY1978
Place of Birth:St:Petersburg
Citizenship:Russian/German
Languages:Russian,German,English,Italian,Arabic
Physical Information
(if picture is provided some things can be left blank)
Height:6`0
Weight:198
Eye color: Brown
Hair color/cut: Dark Blonde
Body type:wiry but muscular, agile
Military Information and Service Records
(several units are allowed as long as the transition is legit)
Country:Russia
Unit/s:BKA,VDV, GRU SpetsNaz "Vympel" group
Previous MOS-Occupation/s:Comissioner(BKA), Designated Marksman(VDV), Element Leader/Point Man(GRU)
Rank (last one achieved):Captain
Duration of service: 18 years
Tour/s of duty:5x 180 day tours(VDV and SpetsNaz), 22 tours under Vympel (varies from 1-5 months)
(Awards are optional)
Gear
Backpack
(aside from the things pointed out in the pic)
a thermo CamelBack
40m of rope with carbines
3 Water bottles
IFAK kit
6 cut down rations
SOFLAM+2 Batteries
PRC-152 spare antena
5 STANAG mags 5.56
4 433 HEDP 40mm
2 CS 40mm
Crowbar
PVS-14
Gas Mask
2x RGO FRAG grenades
2x M18 Smoke grenades
2x AN/M14 Incendiary grenades
Explosives filled wire, 8m
Can of termite paste
Sat Phone
Vest, Pockets, Body
Trauma kit
12 STANAG mags
2 RGO FRAG grenades
1 M84 Flashbang
3 433 HEDP 40mm
1 CS 40mm
Trauma kit
3 FN 5.7 mags
Leatherman Multi tool
M9 Bayonet (compass, purification tablets and wire in the handle)
4 M112 Charges (each 250 gram)
Fuses
M52 Clacker
Fishing wire
Garmin Fortex GPS watch
Map
IR lens
PRC-152 Radio
Piece of chalk
isolation tape
Personal Information
Hobbies:Reading, Gym, Cooking, Range, FMA (Filipino Martial Arts), Motorcycles
Injuries(old and new): several scars, a few broken bones
Mental Health Issues(such as PTSD): Insomnia
Preferred Hand to Hand Style(Krav Maga or others):Sambo, Pencak Silat
Bio/CV:Boris lived most of his childhood in Russian under rough circumstances. He was stealing food when being hungry, getting into brawls with neighborhood kids and running from the police. A normal kid of his town so to say.His mother immigrated towards the west ,later she met Boris´s new stepfather there.While attending school he forged friendships with many kids like him and quickly came to an understanding that as a minority some doors were open to him, which led to contact with drugs and firerarms in early youth. He knew too good what came from drugs since he experienced a lot of misery and violence caused by them but the hunger for money and status made him roll with it and hustle. Up until he finished school Boris kept in touch with with shady friends and bad company . The reason he maintained a good physical form trough lifting, running and martial arts was that he always had an affinity towards the military. But he wasn´t taken into the academy,even though he was in good physical shape and spoke 4 languages at that time, and started studying psychology.After finishing his psychology degree Bo decided that it wasn´t his way, he left the university with 21 and enlisted into the BKA where earned a degree in public administration and a certificate in Arabic. After that he decided give into the urge to go back to his homeland, where he served first in the Airborne Troops Mountain Division, where he learned mountaineering, to earn his citizenship back which he lost after the German naturalization, until he was 26.Then the GRU Spetsnaz where he became a Staff Sergeant with 28 and 5 tours, there he was put into the position of a Pointman/Marksman due to his past MOS in the VDV.The GRU (Spetsnaz) transferred him to Vympel(Recon,Sabotage,HVT Operations), where Boris learned everything a military spook needs(emphasis on Vympel´s jurisdiction) and also attended OCS which was mandatory, due to his cultural and language knowledge, he became a person of interest for European and middle eastern operations. Boris was married to Katja Melnikov which was killed by separatists as a retaliation for Bo´s operations Chechnya, Africa and South America. Ever since he is a single father, taking care of his 15 year old daughter Natasha. It is hard for him to handle the life of a single parent while also being on constant stand by in case a deployment comes up. .
Munition:
17x STANAG 5.56 -510 rounds
4x 5.7 Mags- 80 rounds
7x 40mm 433HEDP
3x 40mm CS round
4x RGO Fragmentation grenades
2x M18 White smoke
1x M84
2x AN/M14
4x M112 C4 blocks
Perishables-used/lost:
N/A |
8,454 | 231 | 18 | 2,708 | 1,209 | Can't say I'm surprised... Isabela groaned, turning the vehicle around to head in the direction Melnikov had pointed out. "Coming out here is a huge risk as it is, so the least they could do is make this mission worthwhile."
Isabela refrained from making any further comments, knowing all too well that complaining about the situation wasn't going to get them ahead. Just as she started tapping her left pointer finger on the steering wheel to the beat of the music, a single shot went through the windshield, the bullet grazing Isabela on the shoulder and leaving her stunned. Her knee-jerk reaction was to turn the wheel and step on the break, causing the van to slide onto the sidewalk as it narrowly avoided a worn down street sign.
"Y esa mierda?" she cursed, clearly shaken up and angry, "Where did that come from?"
Isabela inspected the wound, some blood oozing out but nothing a quick dressing couldn't fix. | Name: Isabela Bryant
Alias: N/A
Nickname/Callsign: Mortimer
Date of birth: 1-4-1987
Place of Birth: Sevilla, Spain
Citizenship: Spanish
Languages: Spanish, Portuguese, English
♦Physical Information
Height: 5'6
Weight: 132 lbs
Eye color: Green
Hair color/cut: See image
Body type: Slender, toned
♦Military Information and Service Records
Country: Spain
Unit/s: Guardia Civil (Civil Guard)
Previous MOS-Occupation/s: Unidad Especial de Intervención (Special Intervention Unit)
Rank (last one achieved): Capitán (Captain)
Duration of service: Thirteen years
Tour/s of duty: N/A
♦Gear
Uniform: See image
Armor: Kevlar helmet and vest
Weapons: M4 rifle with ACOG scope attachment, Glock 19 with Viridian C5L-R, generic folding knife
Backpack: Two chicken, spaghetti, and beef MREs, small flashlight, a pack of AA and AAA batteries, water canteen, miscellaneous toiletries, APX 8000 P25 portable radio, ATN PS15-4 Night Vision Goggles, SwissTool X, 4 M67 grenades, tripwire, first aid kit
Ammunition/Others:Five fully-loaded magazines for the M4, 100 rounds for the Glock 19
Tracker:180 5.56×45mm NATO rounds, 115 9mm rounds, 4 M67 grenades
♦Personal Information
Hobbies: Drawing, reading, swimming, cooking, collecting pocket watches
Injuries(old and new): Scar on her left thigh.
Mental Health Issues(such as PTSD): None
Preferred Hand to Hand Style(Krav Maga or others): Boxing
Bio/CV: Being an only child, Isabela had a rather comfortable upbringing. She was born and raised in a middle-class home and was never particularly deprived of any essential childhood experiences. When she was younger, she picked up a passion for drawing after taking an art class. She continued on that path well into her late teens. Isabela’s parents were expecting for her to make a career out of art, but she surprised them when she confessed to them what her intentions were. Even though they were not the least bit pleased with her decision, they nonetheless respected and supported her choice.
Upon finishing secondary school, Isabela didn’t waste any time starting her university career. She went into the language program to get her degree in English and after a semester, also pursued a joint education in police studies. She finished in three and a half years given that she refrained from working throughout that time and was able to take advantage of the free time she had. After she graduated, she joined the Civil Guard. The training phase was somewhat of a wake-up call, but prior to her arrival she had been training for months. Going out on jogs, taking boxing classes, strength training, etc. She was then taken into phase two where she’d receive the rest of her training to become an officer. The training was tougher, but she welcomed the challenge and in the end, graduated second in class.
Given that she had successfully completed all formal training, Isabela had to pick a field. She knew what she wanted from the beginning and she chose to join the Special Intervention Unit where she'd lead a small team of men and women. At first, it seemed like she was unstoppable, but she soon found out the hard way that life isn't without struggles. During a live fire exercise training, her thigh was grazed by a bullet after one of her subordinates failed to safely handle his weapon during a misfire. The individual responsible was heavily reprimanded, and Isabela was given a desk job for a couple of months both for medical reasons and as punishment for failing to properly execute a training exercise. She returned to full duty after some time, where not only did she become a better leader, but a better person as well. Initially, she was judged as being more strict by those she'd work with for years, but the payoff was clearly evident as she slowly gained rank and one day, pulled into her superior's office to be offered a new position. If she agreed, she'd be getting deployed to be alongside intelligence officers working in their nation's best interest. She'd never gone overseas, but she saw it as an opportunity to get further ahead in her career. Isabela understood how dangerous her job would be given that she'd be in hostile territory and out on the field much more than before, but she believed she was ready for this new chapter of her life. |
8,455 | 231 | 19 | 494 | 38 | Shit! Daniel hissed, clutching his rifle as his eyes flitted across the surrounding area, one hand on the dashboard. His heavy uniform creased in the vibration of the moving car, making a warmth in his stomach greatly uncomfortable.
The wash of panic and the crack of a weapon. Two familiar sensations.
Of course, the familiarity snapped him away from panic and into an important question.
"Bo, casualties?" | Name: Daniel Aleksander Mazlow
Alias:
Nickname/Callsign (How to be called over radio): Low
Date of birth: 30/06/1985
Place of Birth: Katowice, Poland
Citizenship: British, Polish
Languages: Polish, English, Russian, French
Physical Information
Height: 5 ft 8 in
Weight: 139 lb
Body type: Lightweight, rectangular torso.
Military Information and Service Records
Country: Britain
Unit/s: 3rd Division, 22 SAS
Previous MOS-Occupation/s: Mechanic/Light Cavalry Engineer, Fireteam leader, Corporal, Paratrooper officer
Rank (last one achieved): Corporal
Duration of service: 14 years
Tour/s of duty: 4 x 180 day tours (1st Armoured Inf.), 2009-12 Afghanistan (Household Cavalry), 5 x 180 day tours (SAS)
Awards: Iraq Medal, Afghanistan Operational Medal
Gear
-MTP uniform, black gas mask, waterproof camouflaged coat, gloves and boots, protective ESS (Eye Safety System) goggles
-Osprey body armour, Mk 6 helmet
-C8 Carbine, suppressed with ACOG scope and adjustable stock
-SIG Sauer P226, suppressed
-Single edge combat knife, folding with large grip end (for blunt hitting)
-1 flashbang, 2 fragmentation grenades, 2 M18 black smoke grenades
-6 STANAG detachable magazines with 30 rounds, 2 9mm handgun magazines with 15 rounds.
-'First Tactical' backpack (green), handaxe, first aid kit, compact set of basic mechanic tools, short-range radio, satellite phone, electrical tools (cables, spare circuit parts, etc.), 3 AA battery packs, two torches- small and medium, both lightweight, three MREs and canned meat, large thermos, rope, waterproof watch with compass, toilet paper, weapon repair and cleaning kit, remotely detonating explosives, electrician's and mechanical handbooks, notebook with pen.
Personal Information
Hobbies: Martial arts, non-fiction and journalistic reading, photography, electronics
Injuries: Missing part of earlobe- left, burn and graze scars on legs and hands, large scar on middle finger.
Mental Health Issues(such as PTSD): Non-clinical anxiety
Preferred Hand to Hand Style: Karate, Tae Kwon Do, kickboxing
Bio/CV: Born to a dishonest mother and often-missing father, Daniel suffered family troubles from the day he was born. Around the time the family moved, his father had taken multiple penalties for participating in Solidarity protests, leaving him more absent than ever due to arrests. By 1990, the economic situation was slowly worsening from the collapse of the Soviet Union, and the toddler found himself traveling to the United Kingdom.
While there, Daniel's parents divorced due to his mother's emotional manipulation and abuse, ending up in his father's new home, half of his money taken away. Growing up in Manchester, he learnt English quickly to fit in with the others around him. He grew up in a poor neighbourhood but nevertheless determined to make himself stand out, through his nationality.
Daniel's pride got him into trouble, though to his perception, the cause was enough. Unwilling to take insults to his identity or family, he earned a name as someone quick to anger with the right words, throughout his school journey.
At home, throughout his younger childhood, his bitter father was pushed on by both his wife and those hostile to his presence. After seeing numerous issues outside of school, a young Daniel took matters into his own hands and asked a good friend if he could help.
Help he did- the surrounding neighbourhoods were notorious for their crime, whether or not organised, and Daniel knew numerous gangs roamed the communities. He did not know, however, that his friends were so close to those groups.
Questions were asked, and within a few days of Daniel reporting the verbal crimes, a fire had mysteriously taken place within the area, almost killing a family of six, as well as another where a shared adult home collapsed due to a blaze, crippling both men inside. It was found that what happened was definitely arson, yet, no suspects to be found.
With the case dropped, Daniel's father saw that one side of security was made. Attitude and parenting improved.
Despite his mother's lingering presence like the smoke brought on by a sympathetic criminal, Daniel ended his secondary education with GCSEs, and was wondering what direction he'd actually take in life. He had college forms, and his own interests outside of school- he enjoyed martial arts, as it served both his body and his social status, as well as reading what he could (though he started fairly late- his disordered childhood left little time or motivation for things like that).
Then a signpost, bathed in fire and headlines, struck his attention- the attack on the World Trade Centre.
Daniel never wanted to find his fortune in crime or dealing drugs, not like the friends he visited in prison sometimes. It was attractive after a good action film, but certainly not in reality. With that held in mind, he concentrated on a path into the military.
He joined the land forces as soon as he ended college, with high scores in a number of mechanical and practical subjects, allowing him to land positions as a frontline engineer in the British Army. He was put into the 3rd Mechanised Division, mostly operating as a cavalry member. Due to his newfound motivations driven by a realisation that his apparently close friends would easily forget him and an attempt to spite his mother, Daniel worked as hard as he could, forcing himself to sometimes work harder than necessary.
His exhaustion came at a low price of being called an "arse-kissing officer's pussy," to quote one man. The discipline of work did not translate to his socialization; a brawl broke out.
Naturally, he was punished with a warning and menial work outside of the fighting zones, but it seemed to be a stroke of strange, and yet cold luck. A few men in his organisation fell to fighting during Telic.
Telic finished, a later notation of his hard work led Mazlow into the first officer work so far, as a leader of a team. He remained in a cavalry role, but this time in Afghanistan, as part of Operation Herrick, where his job was to coordinate fast work forward of larger parts of his brigade, alongside reconnaissance elements. Being used to this from Iraq, Daniel did well, solidifying trust with his team, and with his superiors.
After Afghanistan, Daniel took to the Special Air Service, feeling confident and slightly disconnected from home. He never knew home, really, except among the mutual struggles he held in life. He met others like himself in the military.
The SAS took him on, with gruelling challenges to train him, as well as continued work under the service that remained in the Middle East, yet never questioning his orders.
Then, a final opportunity. He was seen as too useful and loyal for even just leading a SAS group, and Daniel accepted a far, far more secretive line of work. |
8,456 | 231 | 20 | 104 | 127 | I guess that you can't expect the Cutthroats to make it easier for you even if you are doing their own damn job for them. Vadim said, before glancing at Daniel. "Mark my words, when we get to that damn airport, they will treat us as if they did us a favor, not the other way around."
Turning the corner right after the lead car, Vadim noticed the plastic barrier that Isabella had just managed to maneuver around and violently swerved out of it's path, yelling "Твою мать!" somewhere during the process.
...
When they got to the RV, Vadim mumbled "Cling-Clang, were here...", quoting an old Soviet puppet TV show from the 1980's. He quickly scanned the buildings around the traffic circle. The area was clearly hit with a bombardment, most of the buildings getting damaged from it, few destroyed.
"Стромное местечко" He said to himself.
Vadim noticed an American flag hanging from the third floor of a mostly collapsed building. Well that doesn't seem out of place, he sarcastically thought to himself. If that were the CIA station, or at least what was left of it, namely, the flag, their mission would be over before it really began.
"Well, mission is canceled. We are pulling back to rendezvous point two."
With his thoughts confirmed, Vadim mainly focused on following the lead vehicle, only now a little bit further back after the thing with the barrier.
...
Out of nowhere, the lead car braked and slided onto the sidewalk following a gunshot.
"Shit!"
Vadim quickly realized what was going on. After all, he has already been in this situation many times now, only it has been a long time since he had been in it from this perspective.
While Daniel was asking Melnikov if anyone in the lead car was injured, Vadim quickly yelled "Get down!", slammed on the brakes and swerved. As he did that, a bullet with his name on it blew the driver side mirror into pieces. Unfazed, Vadim yelled: “Ambush!” | Name:Boris Melnikov
Alias:Thomasz Volkin (Fake Passport)
Nickname/Callsign (How to be called over radio):Bo
Date of birth:5MAY1978
Place of Birth:St:Petersburg
Citizenship:Russian/German
Languages:Russian,German,English,Italian,Arabic
Physical Information
(if picture is provided some things can be left blank)
Height:6`0
Weight:198
Eye color: Brown
Hair color/cut: Dark Blonde
Body type:wiry but muscular, agile
Military Information and Service Records
(several units are allowed as long as the transition is legit)
Country:Russia
Unit/s:BKA,VDV, GRU SpetsNaz "Vympel" group
Previous MOS-Occupation/s:Comissioner(BKA), Designated Marksman(VDV), Element Leader/Point Man(GRU)
Rank (last one achieved):Captain
Duration of service: 18 years
Tour/s of duty:5x 180 day tours(VDV and SpetsNaz), 22 tours under Vympel (varies from 1-5 months)
(Awards are optional)
Gear
Backpack
(aside from the things pointed out in the pic)
a thermo CamelBack
40m of rope with carbines
3 Water bottles
IFAK kit
6 cut down rations
SOFLAM+2 Batteries
PRC-152 spare antena
5 STANAG mags 5.56
4 433 HEDP 40mm
2 CS 40mm
Crowbar
PVS-14
Gas Mask
2x RGO FRAG grenades
2x M18 Smoke grenades
2x AN/M14 Incendiary grenades
Explosives filled wire, 8m
Can of termite paste
Sat Phone
Vest, Pockets, Body
Trauma kit
12 STANAG mags
2 RGO FRAG grenades
1 M84 Flashbang
3 433 HEDP 40mm
1 CS 40mm
Trauma kit
3 FN 5.7 mags
Leatherman Multi tool
M9 Bayonet (compass, purification tablets and wire in the handle)
4 M112 Charges (each 250 gram)
Fuses
M52 Clacker
Fishing wire
Garmin Fortex GPS watch
Map
IR lens
PRC-152 Radio
Piece of chalk
isolation tape
Personal Information
Hobbies:Reading, Gym, Cooking, Range, FMA (Filipino Martial Arts), Motorcycles
Injuries(old and new): several scars, a few broken bones
Mental Health Issues(such as PTSD): Insomnia
Preferred Hand to Hand Style(Krav Maga or others):Sambo, Pencak Silat
Bio/CV:Boris lived most of his childhood in Russian under rough circumstances. He was stealing food when being hungry, getting into brawls with neighborhood kids and running from the police. A normal kid of his town so to say.His mother immigrated towards the west ,later she met Boris´s new stepfather there.While attending school he forged friendships with many kids like him and quickly came to an understanding that as a minority some doors were open to him, which led to contact with drugs and firerarms in early youth. He knew too good what came from drugs since he experienced a lot of misery and violence caused by them but the hunger for money and status made him roll with it and hustle. Up until he finished school Boris kept in touch with with shady friends and bad company . The reason he maintained a good physical form trough lifting, running and martial arts was that he always had an affinity towards the military. But he wasn´t taken into the academy,even though he was in good physical shape and spoke 4 languages at that time, and started studying psychology.After finishing his psychology degree Bo decided that it wasn´t his way, he left the university with 21 and enlisted into the BKA where earned a degree in public administration and a certificate in Arabic. After that he decided give into the urge to go back to his homeland, where he served first in the Airborne Troops Mountain Division, where he learned mountaineering, to earn his citizenship back which he lost after the German naturalization, until he was 26.Then the GRU Spetsnaz where he became a Staff Sergeant with 28 and 5 tours, there he was put into the position of a Pointman/Marksman due to his past MOS in the VDV.The GRU (Spetsnaz) transferred him to Vympel(Recon,Sabotage,HVT Operations), where Boris learned everything a military spook needs(emphasis on Vympel´s jurisdiction) and also attended OCS which was mandatory, due to his cultural and language knowledge, he became a person of interest for European and middle eastern operations. Boris was married to Katja Melnikov which was killed by separatists as a retaliation for Bo´s operations Chechnya, Africa and South America. Ever since he is a single father, taking care of his 15 year old daughter Natasha. It is hard for him to handle the life of a single parent while also being on constant stand by in case a deployment comes up. .
Munition:
17x STANAG 5.56 -510 rounds
4x 5.7 Mags- 80 rounds
7x 40mm 433HEDP
3x 40mm CS round
4x RGO Fragmentation grenades
2x M18 White smoke
1x M84
2x AN/M14
4x M112 C4 blocks
Perishables-used/lost:
N/A |
8,457 | 231 | 21 | 2,708 | 1,209 | Wait! That was all Isabela managed to say as Melnikov pushed her out of the van. She landed on her side, parts and bits of the road digging into her skin but luckily none of it coming in contact with her wound. "I need my weapon!" She got up as quickly as she could, her heart racing as she was caught in an onslaught of bullets, although the same could be said for just about everyone else in her squad. If only they could have continued their mission, then they wouldn't be stuck in this position.
Not the time, she thought to herself, looking at the bullet-ridden vehicle and deciding that reaching for her rifle would be suicide. Instead, she rushed after Melnikov, but with every step she took, he seemed to be that much farther away from her. "I'm coming in behind you, don't be spooked," Isabela said in between breaths, taking cover against a wall before deciding to sprint to the entrance of the building. "I'll help to take them out and join you upstairs." With that, Isabela scanned the area and as quickly as she could, she rushed across the street to finally enter the building. Within an instant, she felt quite a bit of relief, but there wasn't time to celebrate. Isabela unholstered her pistol as she made her way upstairs. If anyone came out in an attempt to surprise her, she wasn't going to be caught off guard. | Name: Isabela Bryant
Alias: N/A
Nickname/Callsign: Mortimer
Date of birth: 1-4-1987
Place of Birth: Sevilla, Spain
Citizenship: Spanish
Languages: Spanish, Portuguese, English
♦Physical Information
Height: 5'6
Weight: 132 lbs
Eye color: Green
Hair color/cut: See image
Body type: Slender, toned
♦Military Information and Service Records
Country: Spain
Unit/s: Guardia Civil (Civil Guard)
Previous MOS-Occupation/s: Unidad Especial de Intervención (Special Intervention Unit)
Rank (last one achieved): Capitán (Captain)
Duration of service: Thirteen years
Tour/s of duty: N/A
♦Gear
Uniform: See image
Armor: Kevlar helmet and vest
Weapons: M4 rifle with ACOG scope attachment, Glock 19 with Viridian C5L-R, generic folding knife
Backpack: Two chicken, spaghetti, and beef MREs, small flashlight, a pack of AA and AAA batteries, water canteen, miscellaneous toiletries, APX 8000 P25 portable radio, ATN PS15-4 Night Vision Goggles, SwissTool X, 4 M67 grenades, tripwire, first aid kit
Ammunition/Others:Five fully-loaded magazines for the M4, 100 rounds for the Glock 19
Tracker:180 5.56×45mm NATO rounds, 115 9mm rounds, 4 M67 grenades
♦Personal Information
Hobbies: Drawing, reading, swimming, cooking, collecting pocket watches
Injuries(old and new): Scar on her left thigh.
Mental Health Issues(such as PTSD): None
Preferred Hand to Hand Style(Krav Maga or others): Boxing
Bio/CV: Being an only child, Isabela had a rather comfortable upbringing. She was born and raised in a middle-class home and was never particularly deprived of any essential childhood experiences. When she was younger, she picked up a passion for drawing after taking an art class. She continued on that path well into her late teens. Isabela’s parents were expecting for her to make a career out of art, but she surprised them when she confessed to them what her intentions were. Even though they were not the least bit pleased with her decision, they nonetheless respected and supported her choice.
Upon finishing secondary school, Isabela didn’t waste any time starting her university career. She went into the language program to get her degree in English and after a semester, also pursued a joint education in police studies. She finished in three and a half years given that she refrained from working throughout that time and was able to take advantage of the free time she had. After she graduated, she joined the Civil Guard. The training phase was somewhat of a wake-up call, but prior to her arrival she had been training for months. Going out on jogs, taking boxing classes, strength training, etc. She was then taken into phase two where she’d receive the rest of her training to become an officer. The training was tougher, but she welcomed the challenge and in the end, graduated second in class.
Given that she had successfully completed all formal training, Isabela had to pick a field. She knew what she wanted from the beginning and she chose to join the Special Intervention Unit where she'd lead a small team of men and women. At first, it seemed like she was unstoppable, but she soon found out the hard way that life isn't without struggles. During a live fire exercise training, her thigh was grazed by a bullet after one of her subordinates failed to safely handle his weapon during a misfire. The individual responsible was heavily reprimanded, and Isabela was given a desk job for a couple of months both for medical reasons and as punishment for failing to properly execute a training exercise. She returned to full duty after some time, where not only did she become a better leader, but a better person as well. Initially, she was judged as being more strict by those she'd work with for years, but the payoff was clearly evident as she slowly gained rank and one day, pulled into her superior's office to be offered a new position. If she agreed, she'd be getting deployed to be alongside intelligence officers working in their nation's best interest. She'd never gone overseas, but she saw it as an opportunity to get further ahead in her career. Isabela understood how dangerous her job would be given that she'd be in hostile territory and out on the field much more than before, but she believed she was ready for this new chapter of her life. |
8,458 | 231 | 22 | 494 | 38 | A sweat-soaked lock of hair pulled at Daniel's skin, his head jolting as the car came to a sudden stop. Now stationary with a back facing the storm of metal, he dragged himself and his gun out the seat as fast as possible, gasping for air. Something exploded not far away, grains of debris found its way onto his face among the hot smell of fighting.
"Kurwa, Vadim," he hissed, snapping his head back to the car. A cold feeling surrounded his body. Daniel breathed, hard.
Then he retreated towards the building the wall belonged to, forcing a door open with a boot. Refusing to move any further, the mechanic held a door and watched for his driver, fear dripping from his skin. | Name: Daniel Aleksander Mazlow
Alias:
Nickname/Callsign (How to be called over radio): Low
Date of birth: 30/06/1985
Place of Birth: Katowice, Poland
Citizenship: British, Polish
Languages: Polish, English, Russian, French
Physical Information
Height: 5 ft 8 in
Weight: 139 lb
Body type: Lightweight, rectangular torso.
Military Information and Service Records
Country: Britain
Unit/s: 3rd Division, 22 SAS
Previous MOS-Occupation/s: Mechanic/Light Cavalry Engineer, Fireteam leader, Corporal, Paratrooper officer
Rank (last one achieved): Corporal
Duration of service: 14 years
Tour/s of duty: 4 x 180 day tours (1st Armoured Inf.), 2009-12 Afghanistan (Household Cavalry), 5 x 180 day tours (SAS)
Awards: Iraq Medal, Afghanistan Operational Medal
Gear
-MTP uniform, black gas mask, waterproof camouflaged coat, gloves and boots, protective ESS (Eye Safety System) goggles
-Osprey body armour, Mk 6 helmet
-C8 Carbine, suppressed with ACOG scope and adjustable stock
-SIG Sauer P226, suppressed
-Single edge combat knife, folding with large grip end (for blunt hitting)
-1 flashbang, 2 fragmentation grenades, 2 M18 black smoke grenades
-6 STANAG detachable magazines with 30 rounds, 2 9mm handgun magazines with 15 rounds.
-'First Tactical' backpack (green), handaxe, first aid kit, compact set of basic mechanic tools, short-range radio, satellite phone, electrical tools (cables, spare circuit parts, etc.), 3 AA battery packs, two torches- small and medium, both lightweight, three MREs and canned meat, large thermos, rope, waterproof watch with compass, toilet paper, weapon repair and cleaning kit, remotely detonating explosives, electrician's and mechanical handbooks, notebook with pen.
Personal Information
Hobbies: Martial arts, non-fiction and journalistic reading, photography, electronics
Injuries: Missing part of earlobe- left, burn and graze scars on legs and hands, large scar on middle finger.
Mental Health Issues(such as PTSD): Non-clinical anxiety
Preferred Hand to Hand Style: Karate, Tae Kwon Do, kickboxing
Bio/CV: Born to a dishonest mother and often-missing father, Daniel suffered family troubles from the day he was born. Around the time the family moved, his father had taken multiple penalties for participating in Solidarity protests, leaving him more absent than ever due to arrests. By 1990, the economic situation was slowly worsening from the collapse of the Soviet Union, and the toddler found himself traveling to the United Kingdom.
While there, Daniel's parents divorced due to his mother's emotional manipulation and abuse, ending up in his father's new home, half of his money taken away. Growing up in Manchester, he learnt English quickly to fit in with the others around him. He grew up in a poor neighbourhood but nevertheless determined to make himself stand out, through his nationality.
Daniel's pride got him into trouble, though to his perception, the cause was enough. Unwilling to take insults to his identity or family, he earned a name as someone quick to anger with the right words, throughout his school journey.
At home, throughout his younger childhood, his bitter father was pushed on by both his wife and those hostile to his presence. After seeing numerous issues outside of school, a young Daniel took matters into his own hands and asked a good friend if he could help.
Help he did- the surrounding neighbourhoods were notorious for their crime, whether or not organised, and Daniel knew numerous gangs roamed the communities. He did not know, however, that his friends were so close to those groups.
Questions were asked, and within a few days of Daniel reporting the verbal crimes, a fire had mysteriously taken place within the area, almost killing a family of six, as well as another where a shared adult home collapsed due to a blaze, crippling both men inside. It was found that what happened was definitely arson, yet, no suspects to be found.
With the case dropped, Daniel's father saw that one side of security was made. Attitude and parenting improved.
Despite his mother's lingering presence like the smoke brought on by a sympathetic criminal, Daniel ended his secondary education with GCSEs, and was wondering what direction he'd actually take in life. He had college forms, and his own interests outside of school- he enjoyed martial arts, as it served both his body and his social status, as well as reading what he could (though he started fairly late- his disordered childhood left little time or motivation for things like that).
Then a signpost, bathed in fire and headlines, struck his attention- the attack on the World Trade Centre.
Daniel never wanted to find his fortune in crime or dealing drugs, not like the friends he visited in prison sometimes. It was attractive after a good action film, but certainly not in reality. With that held in mind, he concentrated on a path into the military.
He joined the land forces as soon as he ended college, with high scores in a number of mechanical and practical subjects, allowing him to land positions as a frontline engineer in the British Army. He was put into the 3rd Mechanised Division, mostly operating as a cavalry member. Due to his newfound motivations driven by a realisation that his apparently close friends would easily forget him and an attempt to spite his mother, Daniel worked as hard as he could, forcing himself to sometimes work harder than necessary.
His exhaustion came at a low price of being called an "arse-kissing officer's pussy," to quote one man. The discipline of work did not translate to his socialization; a brawl broke out.
Naturally, he was punished with a warning and menial work outside of the fighting zones, but it seemed to be a stroke of strange, and yet cold luck. A few men in his organisation fell to fighting during Telic.
Telic finished, a later notation of his hard work led Mazlow into the first officer work so far, as a leader of a team. He remained in a cavalry role, but this time in Afghanistan, as part of Operation Herrick, where his job was to coordinate fast work forward of larger parts of his brigade, alongside reconnaissance elements. Being used to this from Iraq, Daniel did well, solidifying trust with his team, and with his superiors.
After Afghanistan, Daniel took to the Special Air Service, feeling confident and slightly disconnected from home. He never knew home, really, except among the mutual struggles he held in life. He met others like himself in the military.
The SAS took him on, with gruelling challenges to train him, as well as continued work under the service that remained in the Middle East, yet never questioning his orders.
Then, a final opportunity. He was seen as too useful and loyal for even just leading a SAS group, and Daniel accepted a far, far more secretive line of work. |
8,459 | 232 | 0 | 1,489 | 1,400 | Somewhere out in the darkness, where rarely a soul has ever tried, there exist more, and more, always spreading out, always closing in, dying and being born again. Mortal minds which cannot perceive of infinity would do well to stay away from the endless dark surface, for they'd be driven loonier than a bunch of toons, in its presence. There, in the void filled to the brim, silence reigns with a cacophony of every sound imaginable, and even more which could ever be conceived. There in a world, of worlds, a nexus of dimensions, a universe of gates and locks, the stillness is broken. In a far off corner, of an endless rolling ocean of night, something stirs from beneath the surface, breaking through the flat plains like an aquatic mammal coming up for air. It's a tiny ripple, at first, but then latter comes along, and with it, the ripples grows until there's a massive surge of darkness speeding along, gathering up the stillness, adding it to its mass, like a snowball going down a mountain side.
As massive as the sight would be, could anyone see it, things go on through all the tiny little realms known to worlds to the being living on them as normal, and hardly an eye blinks as the surge pulls their lands in with them. Not everyone is this fortunate, of course, or what kind of story would we have. Some people, for reasons unknown, are blessed, or cursed, depending on how you'd look at one being pulled away from their loving, or crappy, regular lives, into something far grander, without the safety nets that come from standing in a place you, and all the generations before you, have always thought to be the only thing that was.
Its hard to explain the sensation of being pulled into the waters like a child being yanked off the edge of a beach by a wave, and even harder to describe what its like to have your soul and body, pinched together like an oreo cookie with its filling and yanked through a thin membrane that's both hot and cold, with a texture like Jello. There's a feeling of distortion as the world falls away from your feet, and the air around you just goes poof, and there's no air for desperate lungs to draw in. Wonders go on around you, stars, and plains shoot by your eyes like comets, filling your vision with light. It doesn't matter though, none of the wonders, because the air is the only thing on your mind. A man with a big check and nice suit could walk up and tell you everything will be easier now because your rich, and all you need to do is sign on the dotted line, and the only thing you'd do in return is open your mouth and try to draw in whatever it was he was breathing.
It doesn't go on forever though, the tumbling sensations, and brighter than the sun images. It couldn't. YOu wouldn't last, and what good is sensory experiences without a mind to understand something was being experienced. No, it comes to a stop. You stop. Not where you were when you started, but there's air there, and for the moment nothing else matters.
Jynmi gasped as everything around him suddenly became relevant, and he sucked down air like a vacuumed sucked up dirt. There wasn't time to notice things though, because before he could, he found that he was falling, and panic was in order, or would've been if not for the sudden ice cold water that surrounded him.
"Holy Jeez." He gasped as his head broke the surface of a small pond, surrounded by green trees. "God, that's cold." With a frantic gulp, he looked around, and headed towards the nearest beach. "Its cold. Its cold." Muttering it over and over again until he reached the dry earth, and dropped on it like a sack filled with anything but helium. "I'm going to get sick. I just know it. So much for a budget. I'm starting to really regret not getting insurance."
Awwooba. Something called from the trees. Awwoowwoba, something responding, and it was that sound that drove home the fact that Jynmi wasn't home anymore. Hell, looking at the trees, and noting the strange shades of yellow and blue along the edges of some of the leaves, he was certain he wasn't anywhere near home. | Real name: James(Jimmy(Jynmi)) Martinez
AGe:24
Appearance: Before the jump, Jimmy was a tall, wide figured individual, a little chubby with some muscle showing through. His skin was tan, and his eyes and hair were both dark brown. Afterwards, he lost about a foot, and became much more wiry. His skin took on a pale color, and his hair was just a shade lighter than his flesh. His eyes underwent the most extreme change. The one on the left became maroon color, and the one on the right became a bright blue. Another change is a few of his scars, one on his back, one on his forearm, and one just below the temple have all disappeared without a trace.
Personality: Jimmy is rather quiet and unsure of himself. He doesn't do well in crowds and has some trouble with meeting new people. He always holds a part of himself back. Despite having limited experience with meeting people, he has a very strong sense of empathy and can detect what people are feeling. Despite being almost entirely submissive by nature, there is a hard part in him that will not yield, and that's whenever something doesn't hold up to standards of his own personal moral code.
History: Jynmi spent most of his early life at home, reading, writing, and wishing he was somewhere else doing something interesting. Then, as he grew older, he went to school part time, and worked part time. Afterwards, there was a small part of his life spent in semi-whintess protection after revealing the headquarters of a drug smuggling gang. By Semi-whiteness protection, I mean he moved into a motel on the other side of town.
Starting items: Pentagon Pendant, wind breaker Jacket, Wrist watch, Glasses, leather gloves, container of pepper spray, lighter
Ability- Focus-With the Use of his pentagon Jynmi can channel energy and create barriers of blue light. The barriers exists a set distance from him. Though, he can't move them independently, they'll move with him. There's no set level of damage One of his barriers can hold, but there are a few limitations. First, the larger the barrier, the greater amount of time he's holding it, or the more damage it takes, the harder it is for him to keep his focus, and maintain his barrier. |
8,460 | 232 | 1 | 893 | 1,258 | There's a sudden crashing through the trees as something falls through them, a series of painful cracks as something tumbles through every single branch on it's way to the ground. The greenery is silent for a moment, before a empty headed looking man stumbles out of the treeline in a daze, clutching in one hand a tourists guide to New York's beautiful Central Park. He wobbles over to the edge of the lake and numbly brings the book up to his face. After reading a bit, he puts the book down and looks over his surroundings with a bewildered expression. He brings the guidebook back up and turns a few pages, then puts it down again to have another look round. During this round his eyes finally fall upon Jynmi. "Oh, hello." He says vacantly. "Is this the duck pond?" | Real name: Tyler Bacon
Age: 29
Appearance: Tall, sort of out of shape Caucasian male with short brown hair. Built like someone who has only just recently started to show the effects of steady exorcise.
Personality: It is very rare to see Tyler Bacon truly happy, but on the other hand it's rare to see him truly angry. He mostly seems to exist in a state of perpetually perplexed melancholy, the strongest emotion he ever shows is annoyance. A very practically minded person whose sense of wonder seems to have shriveled up and died a long time ago, he's liable to be more impressed with someone starting a fire with a flint and steel than, say, obliterating and entire countryside with a concentrated blast of it. Generally stupid, having a very simple view of most all situations. Doesn't like to bother people with his problems.
History: Tyler is a traveler, though not by his own choice. A delivery man and furniture mover, he hit it off with a rich heiress named Stella Trombold while helping her move in to her new mansion. For the life of them their friends could not understand what she sees in him, but prevailing theory is that she enjoys his simplicity and the fact that he doesn't talk back much. Stella herself is a bit of an adventurer, and Tyler dutifully gets dragged along to the four corners of the Earth by her. He would much rather they be at home, doing something simple like watching television and while he's sure the bug and frogs and things are lovely if you like them, he would much rather have a sandwich. He tells her these things as often as they come up, but never actually finds it in his heart to refuse.
He is currently on another vacation right at this moment, Stella having given him a little free time to wonder about on his own.
Starting items: Small traveling bag, Guide to (Wherever he is before the first jump), three sandwiches, 2 bottled water, $650 cash allowance, small umbrella, cellphone.
Ability: Phantom Limb
A third hand that floats about independently of Tyler, controlled by his will. About as strong and dexterous as a normal human hand, but doesn't get tired and is much faster. Able to move freely through non-living things. Tyler always knows where the hand is. |
8,461 | 232 | 2 | 1,180 | 1,981 | A loud scream could be heard as a young man fell out of the sky, desperately gasping for breath and fearing for his life. The screaming turned into an abrupt groan of pain as said young boy's bottom hits the ground. "Ow, shit. At least this isn't the first time my ass's been sore." He whisper-shouted while rubbing the injured area in an attempt to alleviate the pain. He suddenly noticed the two other dudes there, as well as the unfamiliar-ness of the pond and forest surrounding it. He first looked over the brown haired fellow, who seemed to regard this in a dream like state. "Duck pond? Dude, what the hell are you- nevermind, actually, that doesn't even need my input to be funny." He said, getting up and kind of giving off that condescending 'your an idiot/what the hell are you thinking' vibe in his stare. He then looked at the other guy who had recently pulled himself out of the lake by the looks of things. "You know where we are man? And better question, you want my coat? You and hypothermia are about to have sloppy makeouts from how much you're shaking." He asked, taking off his brown hoodie and gesturing for Jynmi to take it. "I'm Matt, by the way. Nice to meet you." | **Real name:** Matthew
**Age:** 14
**Appearance:** (
**Personality:** Matt proclaims himself a natural-born leader. He is the person who tends to take charge in most situations, and is the quickest to start making commands. This is balanced out with the fact that he is really easy to aggravate. If he doesn't like you, he will generally make it clear, and then ask you to either change, or get as far away from him as possible. He also tries to act funny, making jokes about himself and others to hide his nihilistic self-loathing.
As for interests, he loves videogames ranging from Smash Bros. to Fire Emblem to Borderlands. Once he finds a good game (Or anything to obsess over, really) he will latch onto it immediately, and then leave it within a week or two. He also enjoys webcomics, and has an interest in comedy, listening to various standup routines and comedy shows.
**History:** When Matt was young, his parents divorced. This led to him, his mother, and his sister having to move a lot. This meant Matt never got to make many friends up until about the 6th grade, where they finally settled down, and his mother remarried. Once he had some friends, he realized he wasn't content. He wanted to leave, to escape, to leave the world he considered had no purpose.
**Starting items:**
- Survival Knife: Includes matches, fishing line with hook, a compass. thread with needle, two buttons.
- Smartphone device with charger.
- Nintendo 3DS with Fire Emblem: Awakening, and Super Smash Brothers for 3DS.
**Ability:** When Matt first warped, he found in his hand, a book. Inside this book was a single page. On this page there is text unreadable by all but him. When this text is read aloud, Matt can direct a lightning bolt at an enemy. The more points Matt invests in "Tomes" the more pages, and by extension spells, are added to the book. |
8,462 | 232 | 3 | 893 | 1,258 | We're in central park. he replies slowly, still in his dazed state. He remembered tripping, he definitely tripped, and then things had happened, and then he wound up falling onto a tree. The top of a tree. Which, he guessed, could only mean he had missed the ground the first go 'round. He knew he heard about that happening from some science guide somewhere, falling and missing the ground. But when that happened you didn't end up somewhere else. You couldn't trip in England and end up in Hong Kong, because that didn't make any sense.
He looked around again, at a loss, to the woods around them and listens to the strange calls that emanated from within. Calls he had never haired from any sort of bird he knew of, which was strange because he quite liked birds. "Maybe near the Zoo?" He said. "Have you ever been?" | Real name: Tyler Bacon
Age: 29
Appearance: Tall, sort of out of shape Caucasian male with short brown hair. Built like someone who has only just recently started to show the effects of steady exorcise.
Personality: It is very rare to see Tyler Bacon truly happy, but on the other hand it's rare to see him truly angry. He mostly seems to exist in a state of perpetually perplexed melancholy, the strongest emotion he ever shows is annoyance. A very practically minded person whose sense of wonder seems to have shriveled up and died a long time ago, he's liable to be more impressed with someone starting a fire with a flint and steel than, say, obliterating and entire countryside with a concentrated blast of it. Generally stupid, having a very simple view of most all situations. Doesn't like to bother people with his problems.
History: Tyler is a traveler, though not by his own choice. A delivery man and furniture mover, he hit it off with a rich heiress named Stella Trombold while helping her move in to her new mansion. For the life of them their friends could not understand what she sees in him, but prevailing theory is that she enjoys his simplicity and the fact that he doesn't talk back much. Stella herself is a bit of an adventurer, and Tyler dutifully gets dragged along to the four corners of the Earth by her. He would much rather they be at home, doing something simple like watching television and while he's sure the bug and frogs and things are lovely if you like them, he would much rather have a sandwich. He tells her these things as often as they come up, but never actually finds it in his heart to refuse.
He is currently on another vacation right at this moment, Stella having given him a little free time to wonder about on his own.
Starting items: Small traveling bag, Guide to (Wherever he is before the first jump), three sandwiches, 2 bottled water, $650 cash allowance, small umbrella, cellphone.
Ability: Phantom Limb
A third hand that floats about independently of Tyler, controlled by his will. About as strong and dexterous as a normal human hand, but doesn't get tired and is much faster. Able to move freely through non-living things. Tyler always knows where the hand is. |
8,463 | 232 | 4 | 2,357 | 516 | A short distance from the group, Rachel gasped for air as she appeared behind some nearby trees. She fell a short distance to the ground, wincing as her rear connected with the soft earth below. The brunette slowly got to her feet, and dusted off her jeans before glancing around the area to try and get some idea of where she was. The strange trees just made her feel even more lost though. She couldn't help but overhear the group's conversation, and peeked out from behind a tree, trying to remain inconspicuous. Better to be safe than sorry, after all. The attempt at stealth was cut off after a few moments when she stepped on a fallen twig, creating a loud snapping sound. Rachel froze in place, hoping the group wouldn't notice. | Real name: Rachel Kay
Age: 21
Appearance: Similar to ( except she generally wears jeans and an Iron Maiden or Kamen Rider-based T-shirt rather than a tracksuit. She's roughly 5'6" tall.
Personality: Rachel is shy around people she doesn't know. However once she feels comfortable around someone, she becomes more cheerful and energetic, if a bit snarky at times. She can be surprisingly hammy, when she feels the situation calls for it. She is a fan of assorted manga and anime, mostly slice of life or action series, as well as assorted tokusatsu series. She also enjoys music, mostly metal (generally more of the heavy or power varieties) and rock and cooking.
History: There isn't really much to say. Rachel has had a boring, ordinary life for the most part. Her parents split up when she was little, although it was mostly civil and she still sees both of them. She coasted through school without any real effort, getting decent grades in the process. She recently moved out of home and started studying to become a teacher.
Starting items: Glasses, a Playstation Portable and a horribly outdated mobile phone.
Ability: The Tyrant Driver, as well as the Tyrant and Driver On rings. The Driver is fairly similar to the ( in appearance and function, and normally looks like a belt with a silver buckle shaped like a closed gate. The Driver On ring's only function is to activate the Driver, allowing Rachel to transform into Kamen Rider Tyrant by inserting the Tyrant Ring in a slot on the Driver's left hand side and turning it counter-clockwise, opening the front buckle that reveals a golden image of ( head inside. In this form, she wields a ( which she can use with some proficiency thanks to Ogre, though she's far from an expert. In addition, as a Kamen Rider, her physical abilities are boosted and the armour provides a good level of defence.
As Tyrant, Rachel dons a suit of armour resembling Ogre's appearance, with some differences. Her helmet resembles the right side of his head, mirrored and with larger, red eyes. Her chest and shoulder armour resemble the grey side of his body (although with the grey parts coloured purple), rather than the large mouth and yellow parts. Similarly the legs have the purple sections uninterrupted by the mouths on Ogre. The armour on both of her arms resembles Ogre's left arm. |
8,464 | 232 | 5 | 893 | 1,258 | Tyler's head swings around to to the source of the sound, curiously. The sound had seemed to jump through the daze that this whole strange situation had put him in, like a warning bell ringing out to remind him to get his priorities in order. For example, if Stella found out that he'd gotten lost in something as small as park she'd never let him live it down. She barely trusted him to navigate big cities. But maybe if he'd been dosed with something by locals and carried off somewhere as part of some prank he would at least have an excuse. "Excuse me," he called out, "Is someone playing games out there? Am I on a TV program?"
He scanned the treeline for cameras. | Real name: Tyler Bacon
Age: 29
Appearance: Tall, sort of out of shape Caucasian male with short brown hair. Built like someone who has only just recently started to show the effects of steady exorcise.
Personality: It is very rare to see Tyler Bacon truly happy, but on the other hand it's rare to see him truly angry. He mostly seems to exist in a state of perpetually perplexed melancholy, the strongest emotion he ever shows is annoyance. A very practically minded person whose sense of wonder seems to have shriveled up and died a long time ago, he's liable to be more impressed with someone starting a fire with a flint and steel than, say, obliterating and entire countryside with a concentrated blast of it. Generally stupid, having a very simple view of most all situations. Doesn't like to bother people with his problems.
History: Tyler is a traveler, though not by his own choice. A delivery man and furniture mover, he hit it off with a rich heiress named Stella Trombold while helping her move in to her new mansion. For the life of them their friends could not understand what she sees in him, but prevailing theory is that she enjoys his simplicity and the fact that he doesn't talk back much. Stella herself is a bit of an adventurer, and Tyler dutifully gets dragged along to the four corners of the Earth by her. He would much rather they be at home, doing something simple like watching television and while he's sure the bug and frogs and things are lovely if you like them, he would much rather have a sandwich. He tells her these things as often as they come up, but never actually finds it in his heart to refuse.
He is currently on another vacation right at this moment, Stella having given him a little free time to wonder about on his own.
Starting items: Small traveling bag, Guide to (Wherever he is before the first jump), three sandwiches, 2 bottled water, $650 cash allowance, small umbrella, cellphone.
Ability: Phantom Limb
A third hand that floats about independently of Tyler, controlled by his will. About as strong and dexterous as a normal human hand, but doesn't get tired and is much faster. Able to move freely through non-living things. Tyler always knows where the hand is. |
8,465 | 232 | 6 | 1,489 | 1,400 | Jynmi blinked at the jacket, and down at his soaking clothes. A make out session would be good, at least that's what he's heard about them, but somehow he doubted that he'd like it if was sloppy. Of course, there was a lack of experience on his part. "Ah yeah." He mumbled, finally realizing the man with the jacket was still standing over him. "That'll help. Thanks. I mean it, really." Honestly, he did. Sometimes people claimed he had a habit of sounding sarcastic, especially when he was being sincere. Generally, that's why he did his best to steer away from sincerity, but with the way things were going, not in the general direction he'd been used to, he settled on doing things differently, if only incase the world knew him, and set up plans based on him following the norm. "Please don't think I'm being sarcastic." He winced from how bad that must've sounded, and readied something else, which would have undoubtibly been worst, but luckily he was cat off by the young woman's stepping on a tree branch, and hoping(he could see it in her face,) that nobody saw her, and the guy asking about being on TV.
"I don't think we're on Tv" Jynmi said, getting to his feet, and putting on the jacket. "I don't think we're anywhere. I mean, yes, we're somewhere, but the where isn't somewhere to us.' He paused, and shook his head, hoping the ideas would be better arranged after a nice tumbling about. "Ugh. Just look at the leaves on those trees." He pointed up. "Where have you ever seen trees with blue leaves?" He squinted up, thinking there was some movement that couldn't have been caused by a combination of swaying leaves and sunlight. "Anyways." He looked around. "I don't know. I guess, I'm trying to say I don't know. That's, yeah. That's it. I just don't know. Wow, I could have saved some breath with that. I'll stop mumbling now, if nobody minds."
Nobody did mind his silence, but a few individuals apparently were not very happy with them intruding on their forest floor. BKaah Bkaah. Something shouted from above them. There was a loud crash, and a dozen forms fell to the Earth, or wherever it was they where, in perfect circle that encompassed the entire group, including the lady who hadn't wished to be seen. The things, not men, or at least most of them weren't men, or human, varied in size, shape, color, and by the looks of the different teeth, diets. Some had on clothes, others didn't. Some had weapons, others didn't. A few glowed with strange lights, and some didn't. Others surged with electrical power, and others didn't.
Jynmi's face wen't pale as he quickly looked around at all the faces and forms that had encircled them. "Wait a minute?" He muttered, as he tried to stop himself completely, and fought against the dizziness's urge to pull him down to the ground. "You might be right about us being on television." Nervously, he chewed his lip, and leaned a little closer, trying to get a better look at one of the figures that stood about twenty feet to his left, just behind the guy who lent him a jacket. "I mean, now I'm sure your probably right, because that's the only way I could be seeing what I'm seeing." His arm raised, and finger extended. "Come on, it has to be. How else would that be standing there, or am I just imagining a Rhyperior?" He nodded. "It would make sense if I was." God he hoped he was. "But just to make sure, does anyone else see something like a small Rhino, on its hind legs, covered in grey and orange stone armor, because if not, great, if so, reality might be broken, or I'm in a coma like that Ash Ketchum guy." | Real name: James(Jimmy(Jynmi)) Martinez
AGe:24
Appearance: Before the jump, Jimmy was a tall, wide figured individual, a little chubby with some muscle showing through. His skin was tan, and his eyes and hair were both dark brown. Afterwards, he lost about a foot, and became much more wiry. His skin took on a pale color, and his hair was just a shade lighter than his flesh. His eyes underwent the most extreme change. The one on the left became maroon color, and the one on the right became a bright blue. Another change is a few of his scars, one on his back, one on his forearm, and one just below the temple have all disappeared without a trace.
Personality: Jimmy is rather quiet and unsure of himself. He doesn't do well in crowds and has some trouble with meeting new people. He always holds a part of himself back. Despite having limited experience with meeting people, he has a very strong sense of empathy and can detect what people are feeling. Despite being almost entirely submissive by nature, there is a hard part in him that will not yield, and that's whenever something doesn't hold up to standards of his own personal moral code.
History: Jynmi spent most of his early life at home, reading, writing, and wishing he was somewhere else doing something interesting. Then, as he grew older, he went to school part time, and worked part time. Afterwards, there was a small part of his life spent in semi-whintess protection after revealing the headquarters of a drug smuggling gang. By Semi-whiteness protection, I mean he moved into a motel on the other side of town.
Starting items: Pentagon Pendant, wind breaker Jacket, Wrist watch, Glasses, leather gloves, container of pepper spray, lighter
Ability- Focus-With the Use of his pentagon Jynmi can channel energy and create barriers of blue light. The barriers exists a set distance from him. Though, he can't move them independently, they'll move with him. There's no set level of damage One of his barriers can hold, but there are a few limitations. First, the larger the barrier, the greater amount of time he's holding it, or the more damage it takes, the harder it is for him to keep his focus, and maintain his barrier. |
8,466 | 232 | 7 | 893 | 1,258 | Knew we were near the zoo. Tyler said as he slowly got down on one knee before the encirclement of strange animals. They must have escaped from the zoo. He'd never been the the central park zoo, he didn't know what they had. Sure most of these things looked pretty strange, but he hadn't seen every animal. There were animals out in the rainforest that no one had ever seen. There was bigfoot and his like. There were giant birds. That must have been what had happened, in fact. A giant bird had picked him up and dropped him somewhere near the zoo. Probably got these guys as well, explaining why they were so confused.
He reached out his arms and touched the guys next to him to get their attention and nodded his head downwards at the ground. "Play dead. Animals don't hurt ya' if you're playing dead." He went lower, slowly laying himself on the ground. | Real name: Tyler Bacon
Age: 29
Appearance: Tall, sort of out of shape Caucasian male with short brown hair. Built like someone who has only just recently started to show the effects of steady exorcise.
Personality: It is very rare to see Tyler Bacon truly happy, but on the other hand it's rare to see him truly angry. He mostly seems to exist in a state of perpetually perplexed melancholy, the strongest emotion he ever shows is annoyance. A very practically minded person whose sense of wonder seems to have shriveled up and died a long time ago, he's liable to be more impressed with someone starting a fire with a flint and steel than, say, obliterating and entire countryside with a concentrated blast of it. Generally stupid, having a very simple view of most all situations. Doesn't like to bother people with his problems.
History: Tyler is a traveler, though not by his own choice. A delivery man and furniture mover, he hit it off with a rich heiress named Stella Trombold while helping her move in to her new mansion. For the life of them their friends could not understand what she sees in him, but prevailing theory is that she enjoys his simplicity and the fact that he doesn't talk back much. Stella herself is a bit of an adventurer, and Tyler dutifully gets dragged along to the four corners of the Earth by her. He would much rather they be at home, doing something simple like watching television and while he's sure the bug and frogs and things are lovely if you like them, he would much rather have a sandwich. He tells her these things as often as they come up, but never actually finds it in his heart to refuse.
He is currently on another vacation right at this moment, Stella having given him a little free time to wonder about on his own.
Starting items: Small traveling bag, Guide to (Wherever he is before the first jump), three sandwiches, 2 bottled water, $650 cash allowance, small umbrella, cellphone.
Ability: Phantom Limb
A third hand that floats about independently of Tyler, controlled by his will. About as strong and dexterous as a normal human hand, but doesn't get tired and is much faster. Able to move freely through non-living things. Tyler always knows where the hand is. |
8,467 | 232 | 8 | 1,180 | 1,981 | Matt's head swung around as he heard something snap, about the time after the pond guy was explaining his tone. Matt had no need for the explanation, he had dealt with people like that before, but that was neither here nor there. Back to the important things, a girl trying to be sneaky, keyword trying, had stepped on a branch like a moron and alerted everyone of her presence. Pond guy said something, but Matt was to busy giving his patented "you're an idiot" stare at forest lady to listen in. Suddenly, weird and strange creatures surround all of them.
"Yeah, that about sums up one of the thingies I'm seeing." Matt said to Pond guy, taking a glance at his pale face before looking at the monsters again. Then the Brown haired dude said something stupid again, before lying down and attempting to avoid the conflict entirely. "Dude, this is clearly just a lucid dream! Look, I'm gonna get us outta here." Matt said as he thought of a gun. It's shape, it's size, and how it was right in his pocket. He had done this trick before, it was easy. Matt reached in his pocket and pulled out... a phone.
"Uhh... maybe I did it wrong?" He said, before trying it again, this time with his left pocket. "C'mon... c'mon." he whispered as he visualized the gun. Out of his pocket came... a book. It was tiny, only one page, with a lightning bolt on the front. He opened up the book. The language was not English, yet still, he could understand it. He read it aloud, ignoring brown hair again.
"Yogldjjih rllagei S'smnrorouh." He read from the book, and a bolt of electricity came down from the sky and hit that rhino thing. "Shit!" Matt yelled, throwing his hands up in defense of the obvious onslaught of the creatures he provoked. | **Real name:** Matthew
**Age:** 14
**Appearance:** (
**Personality:** Matt proclaims himself a natural-born leader. He is the person who tends to take charge in most situations, and is the quickest to start making commands. This is balanced out with the fact that he is really easy to aggravate. If he doesn't like you, he will generally make it clear, and then ask you to either change, or get as far away from him as possible. He also tries to act funny, making jokes about himself and others to hide his nihilistic self-loathing.
As for interests, he loves videogames ranging from Smash Bros. to Fire Emblem to Borderlands. Once he finds a good game (Or anything to obsess over, really) he will latch onto it immediately, and then leave it within a week or two. He also enjoys webcomics, and has an interest in comedy, listening to various standup routines and comedy shows.
**History:** When Matt was young, his parents divorced. This led to him, his mother, and his sister having to move a lot. This meant Matt never got to make many friends up until about the 6th grade, where they finally settled down, and his mother remarried. Once he had some friends, he realized he wasn't content. He wanted to leave, to escape, to leave the world he considered had no purpose.
**Starting items:**
- Survival Knife: Includes matches, fishing line with hook, a compass. thread with needle, two buttons.
- Smartphone device with charger.
- Nintendo 3DS with Fire Emblem: Awakening, and Super Smash Brothers for 3DS.
**Ability:** When Matt first warped, he found in his hand, a book. Inside this book was a single page. On this page there is text unreadable by all but him. When this text is read aloud, Matt can direct a lightning bolt at an enemy. The more points Matt invests in "Tomes" the more pages, and by extension spells, are added to the book. |
8,468 | 232 | 9 | 2,628 | 9,853 | Okay, okay. So she had just picked up what could only be described as Cure Heart's Lovely Commune. That was weird but it could have been a toy or something, right? But now she was in this forest and there were people beyond the trees and then there were... those looked liked Pokemon why were there Pokemon. Anno couldn't help but just try and stay still behind the tree. She wasn't the most confident person at the best of times and when there was a situation like this there was really no question of her being far too nervous to even start approaching. That and the Pokemon looked kind of irritable, especially when one got hit by a... a bolt of lightning. Anno covered her ears and just did her best to try and move to a different, better piece of cover that was different then the other pieces of cover or... or something. She was scared and really didn't know what to do.
... There was some other girl too, who looked really just as freaked out as Anno felt and appeared to have accidentally stepped on a twig or something like that since there was a snap and all... Oh god what was even going on? It was just too freaky and Anno had no clue of what she would even do. Clutching the Lovely Commune tightly, she found herself simply rooted to the spot and unable to move from where she stood. | Real name: Anno
Age: 21
Appearance: Brown hair, pale skin, blue eyes, red sweater, blue skirt
Personality: Shy and somewhat reclusive, Anno spends most of her time reading or on the computer. While she is a bit more likely to be somewhat open among friends, her nerves get to her easily and she sometimes suffers from anxiety. She does her best to try and work through this, but it can sometimes be rather difficult to do so. She is a fan of action and slice of life works, as well as comedies. She is also a fan of yuri. She likes cute things a great deal and is very, very much against seeing children hurt for any reason. Anno is a massive fan of the Nasuverse, Touhou, and a lot of other things that would take an unnecessarily large amount of space to list.
History: Anno's life is mostly uninteresting, she's mostly just a normal girl.
Starting items: WIP
Ability: WIP
Getting this up while I can, will finish it soon. ^^; |
8,469 | 232 | 10 | 1,880 | 1,108 | Make your wish among the stars. A strange, feminine voice said to Dan.
Dan awoke in a cold sweat as he found himself in a forest. "What the..." Dan muttered as he looked around. Suddenly, thunder. Dan ran off in fear of what's going on. Where was he? Is he far from his home? Will he ever see his friends again? He tripped and that's when he let go of something. Dan went over to pick it up. It was a strange device with a bright red button. Dan knew better than to just press the button. He was named Dan, not Deedee. He could hear people talking. He scurried about until he came across a frightened girl with brown hair, glasses, pale skin, blue eyes, and red skirt. He wasn't sure whether she knows where he was or if she could help him. From the looks of things, she seems just as scared as she was. She seemed to be with another girl.
He also noticed a device she held. It wasn't a simple button though. It looked more like a phone. He looked at her. One wrong move and he feared she'd scream in terror and attract the people over. After a moment of looking away from her, he spoke up.
"I assume you don't know where we are, right?" Dan said to the two. | Real name: Dan Itezaki
Age: 18
Appearance: He's actually very shy and when he's put on the spot, he tends to choke up.
Personality: Dan is Hot-Blooded. There's no dancing around that topic. Give him the moment and he'll shout out to the heavens about his burning passion. Because of his upbringing, he's actually very shy and when he's put on the spot, he tends to choke up. He believes to have difficulty making and keeping friends. However, when it comes to fictional characters, he's more than willing to talk with them, even protect them if need be.
History: Dan used to live in Japan where he lived a pretty normal kid life, albeit with divorced parents. He lived like this until his mom, Yumi Yajirushi, fell in love with a famous author, Todoroshi Itezaki. Dan liked Todoroshi's work even before his mom met him, so he was fine with it. However, when they married, things changed. His mom and him changed their last names to Itezaki. Not really the worst thing to happen to him, but something else loomed. Todoroshi hit writer's block, and his solution is to go for greener pastures and hit up America.
Moving to America was perhaps the biggest change in Dan's life. It completely shattered him as he had to learn English, make new friends, and adapt to America's system. This could be the main reason why Dan is the Shrinking Violet he is now. However, that changed when he went to his new high school and was approached by an equally shy girl. To his delight, she knew how to speak Japanese (if only to watch anime without subs) and the two formed a bond. Eventually, she offered Dan to join the School Drama Club, to which he did. It was this bond that helped him learn more of the English language to the point where his dialect is no different than a native to America.
His time acting out plays combined with Todoroshi's stories helped fill the empty void in his heart that had formed when he moved. There is a side effect though. While it filled the void, it also added a new one: a desire. His desire? To escape into other worlds. Fortunately, it wasn't a big enough desire for his parents to be concerned about. In fact, Todoroshi likes Dan's newfound Escapism.
Starting items: Todoroshi's newest book, "The Frozen Tears Of A Big Hero", a modern English script to Macbeth (with Maccuff's lines highlighted in yellow), and a bowtie that Yumi gave him on his first day of school ("Boutaizu Aru Kuru" she told him.)
Ability: Along with those items, Dan also has, upon traveling, a Zodiarts Switch (possibly given to him by a Horoscopes). This Switch allows him to transform into the Arrow-based monster known as the Sagitta Zodiarts. Its initial ability is to fire arrow-shaped energy bolts at people. The Zodiarts Switch reacts to emotions, positive or negative, and will achieve the "Last One" phase once those emotions become so powerful that it's as if the user wishes to cease its existence as a human. Upon this, the human permanently becomes a Zodiarts. However... there is are ways to become human again. |
8,470 | 232 | 11 | 1,987 | 4,575 | Rin
"...Owies..."
Rin moaned, rubbing her backside as she surveyed her new surroundings. All she remembered was a sudden falling sensation, then landing on... Something in the middle of a weird forest. Which was strange because she was sure she was in her kitchen just a moment ago. Getting to her feet, she took a look at what she had been sitting on, and...
"...Huh, that looks familiar..." Stooping down for a moment, she picked up the familiar looking... Toys. They had to be toys. "Heh, a Sengoku Driver... And an Orange Lockseed... They look just like they did on the show, eheheh~"
It didn't take long for her to notice she wasn't alone, though. A couple of girls (cute ones, she noted) had rushed in her direction, but hadn't seemed to have noticed her yet, and a boy had followed soon after them... And they all seemed to be rather confused and panicky right now. Maybe they too had been suddenly pulled here... But it might also have to do with the giant floating venus flytrap closing in on them. Well, in times like this there was only one thing a true hero of justice could do, right?
"STAND BACK, FAIR MAIDENS! And, um, that guy too I guess." As dramatically as she possibly could, Rin rushed in front of the trio, standing between them and the Carnivine. "THIS IS MY STAGE NOW!" And even more dramatically, she slapped the Driver onto her waist, and...
...And in a flash of light, a yellow belt materialized around her, and an insignia suddenly appeared on the left-hand panel of the Driver.
"...Uh, wait, I was just trying to look cool, um... You're not telling me this thing's real, right? Waaah, so cool!" | Oh hey, character tab! Neat!
- Real name: Rin
- Age: 22
- Appearance: ( Kind of tall, stands at about six foot.
- Personality: Hammy, hotblooded, silly and something of a perv, with a notable love of boyish girls and girlish boys. Refuses to act her age most of the time, but when she does it's usually a bad sign. She has a strong sense of justice, and is quick to jump to the defence of anyone she feels has been wronged, but other than that she's kinda lazy. Rin is kind of a nerd, especially towards anime, and _especially_ towards magical girls, super robots and men in spandex fighting rubber monsters. She also enjoys cooking, reading and music, _especially _heavy metal. Unfortunately, she also suffers from an inferiority complex and tends to put everyone else before herself, and has a habit of apologising far too much when she believes she has done something wrong. Rin is a pretty good cook with a rather wide repertoire, as well as being somewhat skilled in unarmed martial arts (specifically, kung fu and tai chi); she's not exactly a world champion or anything but she can at least hold her own.
- History: There's... Honestly not much to say, really. An average life filled with boredom and nothing particularly interesting. Partially because of this, Rin has always wanted to get out there and go on some grand, fantastical adventure even though she knows it's not likely to happen. It's not like she's just going to be randomly whisked away by some unknown force, right?
- Starting items: Some basic cooking supplies and utensils, a smartphone she barely knows how to use and an MP3 player.
- Ability: A ( and the ( which when combined allow her to transform into ( form. Whilst transformed, her physical capabilities receive a notable boost, and the armour provides her with a decent amount of defence; small arms fire in particular tends to not be too much of a problem anymore. In this form, she is armed with the ( and ( swords; unfortunately this does not come with the knowledge of how to properly use a sword. |
8,471 | 232 | 12 | 2,357 | 516 | Oh good. Now there were a bunch of monsters here too. This was just getting bet- Wait, was that a Rhyperior? And did one of the weirdos just shoot lightning at it? This...this was a bad dream, right? Either way, the best option here was clearly just hiding out and hoping they'd focus their attention on the group that had just attacked them and then move on. Unfortunately, something other than the group of people had noticed the noise she'd made earlier. A large venus flytrap-like monster seemed to be moving in her direction. Swallowing hard, Rachel did the first thing that came to mind in this situation: Run away from the Carnivine.
The fact that she seemed to be running towards some other people was purely unintentional, especially given that her head was down up until the moment she heard someone shouting about fair maidens and...Was that Gaim's catchphrase? Looking up, Rachel saw the blonde woman don a Sengoku Driver, which seemed to be the real deal.
Well, with someone that could actually fight on their side, now was as good of a time as any to catch her breath and investigate something that had bugged her while she was running. Reaching into her pockets, she pulled out an item which resembled a closed gate, as well as a pair of rings. She looked up at the Sengoku Driver-wearing woman, then back to the things in her hands. If that was real then was this..? Taking a deep breath, Rachel placed the Driver against her waist. | Real name: Rachel Kay
Age: 21
Appearance: Similar to ( except she generally wears jeans and an Iron Maiden or Kamen Rider-based T-shirt rather than a tracksuit. She's roughly 5'6" tall.
Personality: Rachel is shy around people she doesn't know. However once she feels comfortable around someone, she becomes more cheerful and energetic, if a bit snarky at times. She can be surprisingly hammy, when she feels the situation calls for it. She is a fan of assorted manga and anime, mostly slice of life or action series, as well as assorted tokusatsu series. She also enjoys music, mostly metal (generally more of the heavy or power varieties) and rock and cooking.
History: There isn't really much to say. Rachel has had a boring, ordinary life for the most part. Her parents split up when she was little, although it was mostly civil and she still sees both of them. She coasted through school without any real effort, getting decent grades in the process. She recently moved out of home and started studying to become a teacher.
Starting items: Glasses, a Playstation Portable and a horribly outdated mobile phone.
Ability: The Tyrant Driver, as well as the Tyrant and Driver On rings. The Driver is fairly similar to the ( in appearance and function, and normally looks like a belt with a silver buckle shaped like a closed gate. The Driver On ring's only function is to activate the Driver, allowing Rachel to transform into Kamen Rider Tyrant by inserting the Tyrant Ring in a slot on the Driver's left hand side and turning it counter-clockwise, opening the front buckle that reveals a golden image of ( head inside. In this form, she wields a ( which she can use with some proficiency thanks to Ogre, though she's far from an expert. In addition, as a Kamen Rider, her physical abilities are boosted and the armour provides a good level of defence.
As Tyrant, Rachel dons a suit of armour resembling Ogre's appearance, with some differences. Her helmet resembles the right side of his head, mirrored and with larger, red eyes. Her chest and shoulder armour resemble the grey side of his body (although with the grey parts coloured purple), rather than the large mouth and yellow parts. Similarly the legs have the purple sections uninterrupted by the mouths on Ogre. The armour on both of her arms resembles Ogre's left arm. |
8,472 | 232 | 13 | 893 | 1,258 | The invocation caught Tyler's attention, as well as the sudden lighting that split the air. He looked up from the ground as the thunder echoed away into the forest. His eyes went to the rhino thing, which seemed none the worse for wear, to that guy Matt, to the book in that guy Matt's hands, back to the rhino thing, back to Matt, back to the book ect. ect. until finally he put it all together in his head.
Wizard. It was the only logical explanation.
He saw the Matt the Wizard brace for impact and jumped up back to his feet. This wizard was probably planning to wipe his memory if they survived this, but first they had to survive this. "Hey, what are you doing?" He said urgently. "Cast another one. Cast a flying spell, or a invisible spell, or a castle spell. Come on, don't just stand there do something!"
He heard shouting from the woods at that point, something unquestionable heroic. Probably a knight. Knights were always saving maidens, and the Wizard was here. Knights followed from wizards, but she sounded occupied right at the moment. "You're the only one that can save us!" He pleaded. "At least buy a little time for that knight to get here." | Real name: Tyler Bacon
Age: 29
Appearance: Tall, sort of out of shape Caucasian male with short brown hair. Built like someone who has only just recently started to show the effects of steady exorcise.
Personality: It is very rare to see Tyler Bacon truly happy, but on the other hand it's rare to see him truly angry. He mostly seems to exist in a state of perpetually perplexed melancholy, the strongest emotion he ever shows is annoyance. A very practically minded person whose sense of wonder seems to have shriveled up and died a long time ago, he's liable to be more impressed with someone starting a fire with a flint and steel than, say, obliterating and entire countryside with a concentrated blast of it. Generally stupid, having a very simple view of most all situations. Doesn't like to bother people with his problems.
History: Tyler is a traveler, though not by his own choice. A delivery man and furniture mover, he hit it off with a rich heiress named Stella Trombold while helping her move in to her new mansion. For the life of them their friends could not understand what she sees in him, but prevailing theory is that she enjoys his simplicity and the fact that he doesn't talk back much. Stella herself is a bit of an adventurer, and Tyler dutifully gets dragged along to the four corners of the Earth by her. He would much rather they be at home, doing something simple like watching television and while he's sure the bug and frogs and things are lovely if you like them, he would much rather have a sandwich. He tells her these things as often as they come up, but never actually finds it in his heart to refuse.
He is currently on another vacation right at this moment, Stella having given him a little free time to wonder about on his own.
Starting items: Small traveling bag, Guide to (Wherever he is before the first jump), three sandwiches, 2 bottled water, $650 cash allowance, small umbrella, cellphone.
Ability: Phantom Limb
A third hand that floats about independently of Tyler, controlled by his will. About as strong and dexterous as a normal human hand, but doesn't get tired and is much faster. Able to move freely through non-living things. Tyler always knows where the hand is. |
8,473 | 232 | 14 | 2,628 | 9,853 | Anno could only weakly shake her head when the boy asked her if she knew where they were. She was bad with new people at the best of times, and this was undeniably far, far from the best of times to say the least. All she could really do was stand stock still and stare out from her piece of cover, not even looking at the boy who had spoken to her, and tightly clutch the Lovely Commune in both hands. She almost didn't notice, until the other girl pointed it out, that there was a plant monster approaching them and oh god there was a plant monster approaching them!
Somewhere inside, she started to realize that the thing she was looking at was another pokemon, though at the moment it didn't really click what its name was. She was more worried that it had huge teeth and looked like a giant venus flytrap and was approaching them way too quickly and all she had was a toy to defend herself and she had no idea where she could run and there were other people in danger too what was she ever going to do it was way too close...
... And then a taller blonde girl seemed to jump in out of no-where, declaring that it was her stage now. Wait, that was definitely Gaim's catchphrase, there was no mistaking that. And did she have a Sengoku Driver? Anno didn't know what to do, especially when the driver actually appeared to activate! Even the girl who had jumped out seemed surprised by it. Somehow she seemed familiar too... but that hardly mattered after all... all this!
"... W-wha... I..." Slowly, she looked down at the Lovely Commune. If the Sengoku Driver was real, did that mean... | Real name: Anno
Age: 21
Appearance: Brown hair, pale skin, blue eyes, red sweater, blue skirt
Personality: Shy and somewhat reclusive, Anno spends most of her time reading or on the computer. While she is a bit more likely to be somewhat open among friends, her nerves get to her easily and she sometimes suffers from anxiety. She does her best to try and work through this, but it can sometimes be rather difficult to do so. She is a fan of action and slice of life works, as well as comedies. She is also a fan of yuri. She likes cute things a great deal and is very, very much against seeing children hurt for any reason. Anno is a massive fan of the Nasuverse, Touhou, and a lot of other things that would take an unnecessarily large amount of space to list.
History: Anno's life is mostly uninteresting, she's mostly just a normal girl.
Starting items: WIP
Ability: WIP
Getting this up while I can, will finish it soon. ^^; |
8,474 | 232 | 15 | 1,880 | 1,108 | Upon seeing the carnivorous fly-trap, Dan's legs buckled. However, someone stepped in, shouting with all her might. She slapped on a device on her waist... Wait, waist-worn devices? Can it be? Dan only watched a bit of it during his Saturday Mornings, and even then, his moving to America caused him to miss out on a lot of it, but... Was she becoming a Kamen Rider? Another girl put the driver on her waist. He felt something stir inside him. A strong, emotional feeling. The feeling of fighting along with his idols. Heroism.
He stepped forward, Switch in hand.
"This isn't just your stage!" Dan said as he held out the Switch in front of the Carnivine, thumb ready to press the right red button. "I'll fight with you too!" | Real name: Dan Itezaki
Age: 18
Appearance: He's actually very shy and when he's put on the spot, he tends to choke up.
Personality: Dan is Hot-Blooded. There's no dancing around that topic. Give him the moment and he'll shout out to the heavens about his burning passion. Because of his upbringing, he's actually very shy and when he's put on the spot, he tends to choke up. He believes to have difficulty making and keeping friends. However, when it comes to fictional characters, he's more than willing to talk with them, even protect them if need be.
History: Dan used to live in Japan where he lived a pretty normal kid life, albeit with divorced parents. He lived like this until his mom, Yumi Yajirushi, fell in love with a famous author, Todoroshi Itezaki. Dan liked Todoroshi's work even before his mom met him, so he was fine with it. However, when they married, things changed. His mom and him changed their last names to Itezaki. Not really the worst thing to happen to him, but something else loomed. Todoroshi hit writer's block, and his solution is to go for greener pastures and hit up America.
Moving to America was perhaps the biggest change in Dan's life. It completely shattered him as he had to learn English, make new friends, and adapt to America's system. This could be the main reason why Dan is the Shrinking Violet he is now. However, that changed when he went to his new high school and was approached by an equally shy girl. To his delight, she knew how to speak Japanese (if only to watch anime without subs) and the two formed a bond. Eventually, she offered Dan to join the School Drama Club, to which he did. It was this bond that helped him learn more of the English language to the point where his dialect is no different than a native to America.
His time acting out plays combined with Todoroshi's stories helped fill the empty void in his heart that had formed when he moved. There is a side effect though. While it filled the void, it also added a new one: a desire. His desire? To escape into other worlds. Fortunately, it wasn't a big enough desire for his parents to be concerned about. In fact, Todoroshi likes Dan's newfound Escapism.
Starting items: Todoroshi's newest book, "The Frozen Tears Of A Big Hero", a modern English script to Macbeth (with Maccuff's lines highlighted in yellow), and a bowtie that Yumi gave him on his first day of school ("Boutaizu Aru Kuru" she told him.)
Ability: Along with those items, Dan also has, upon traveling, a Zodiarts Switch (possibly given to him by a Horoscopes). This Switch allows him to transform into the Arrow-based monster known as the Sagitta Zodiarts. Its initial ability is to fire arrow-shaped energy bolts at people. The Zodiarts Switch reacts to emotions, positive or negative, and will achieve the "Last One" phase once those emotions become so powerful that it's as if the user wishes to cease its existence as a human. Upon this, the human permanently becomes a Zodiarts. However... there is are ways to become human again. |
8,475 | 232 | 16 | 1,489 | 1,400 | The Lightning struck the large stone and ground pokemon with deadly accuracy, or what should've been deadly. The aim was right on, but the effect wasn't right, or at least what would be preferred by the group. The creature's massive frame was pushed back a few feet by the force of the impact, and it staggered a little bit afterwards, but aside from that, and a sudden tensing of its body many would see as a shift from aggressively curious to just plain aggressive. The creature's eyes narrowed on the spellcaster, and it took on a deep breath, the massive rock chest puffing outwards with the pressure of the air building inside it, and let out roar that caused birds, and some of the more skilled flying fish, from miles around, to burst from their tree tops and head off in the wild blue yonder. Then it narrowed its head, grunted, and started running straight for the young man, but it wasn't as quickly as you'd think. Rhyperiors, were slow. The other creature's took the big gray pokemon's cue, and starting rushing forward. All of them swept towards the group like a wave in an ocean where no two droplets were the same colors.
"Uh Hey." Jynmi gulped hard something that was stuck in his throat. He was pretty sure it was the last remaining bit of his courage. "I don't think you guys should've done that." He stopped, thought about it, and nodded to himself. "No, scratch that. I'm sure you guys shouldn't have done that. The things mad now." He raised an arm and pointed towards the oncoming, potential, onslaught. He turned his attention from the horde to the guy with the book. "I'm leaning more towards you did it wrong. Unless your trying to get us killed. Are you? It would be nice to know if at least one of us, the normal ones, managed to do something they meant to." A flash of light caught his eye and he turned towards the girl that was dressed differently from the last time he looked at her. "That is, if she didn't mean to do that."
He opened his mouth to say something else, but a stone sailed from the fingers of a small ape like creature, and winged him on the forehead. It wasn't enough to knock him out, but it made the world spin. Several other stones followed quickly, thrown by a small ferret looking creature, and something that looked like a clown.
"Oh dear." A Young man said, from somewhere up in the trees. His form was hidden by shadows, but dully glowing blue eyes could be seen. "Now they've done it." With a sigh, the eyes closed, and the form vanished from the shadows like an unattended buffet in Las Vegas.
The flytrap creature, most things thought of it as Paul, apparently had taken off more than he could chew, or at least he'd mistaken some prey that would just cower and take with something that would actually stand up and try to knock his teeth out. Most things didn't care about Paul, but the group was supposed to be there for a reason. so a few of the others, a Hitmonchan, A kangaskhan, and a haunter decided to aid their brother in arms(as far as grassy vines could be considered arms,) and broke off from the rest of the group, the one racing towards the guy with the lightning and the one who expected the guy with the lightning to do something, towards the people currently transforming into shinier versions of themselves. | Real name: James(Jimmy(Jynmi)) Martinez
AGe:24
Appearance: Before the jump, Jimmy was a tall, wide figured individual, a little chubby with some muscle showing through. His skin was tan, and his eyes and hair were both dark brown. Afterwards, he lost about a foot, and became much more wiry. His skin took on a pale color, and his hair was just a shade lighter than his flesh. His eyes underwent the most extreme change. The one on the left became maroon color, and the one on the right became a bright blue. Another change is a few of his scars, one on his back, one on his forearm, and one just below the temple have all disappeared without a trace.
Personality: Jimmy is rather quiet and unsure of himself. He doesn't do well in crowds and has some trouble with meeting new people. He always holds a part of himself back. Despite having limited experience with meeting people, he has a very strong sense of empathy and can detect what people are feeling. Despite being almost entirely submissive by nature, there is a hard part in him that will not yield, and that's whenever something doesn't hold up to standards of his own personal moral code.
History: Jynmi spent most of his early life at home, reading, writing, and wishing he was somewhere else doing something interesting. Then, as he grew older, he went to school part time, and worked part time. Afterwards, there was a small part of his life spent in semi-whintess protection after revealing the headquarters of a drug smuggling gang. By Semi-whiteness protection, I mean he moved into a motel on the other side of town.
Starting items: Pentagon Pendant, wind breaker Jacket, Wrist watch, Glasses, leather gloves, container of pepper spray, lighter
Ability- Focus-With the Use of his pentagon Jynmi can channel energy and create barriers of blue light. The barriers exists a set distance from him. Though, he can't move them independently, they'll move with him. There's no set level of damage One of his barriers can hold, but there are a few limitations. First, the larger the barrier, the greater amount of time he's holding it, or the more damage it takes, the harder it is for him to keep his focus, and maintain his barrier. |
8,476 | 232 | 17 | 1,180 | 1,981 | Matt was freaking out a little. Sure he feared social things more than actual danger, but this shit was still pretty scary man. He was being attacked by a... Is that a freaking pokemon? So that monster he attacked must've been a rock type, so that meant...
Matt quickly scanned the other creatures for a water type while one man begged, pleaded, and gave praise to him while the other berated and snarked at him. Being a leader was tough sometimes. Brownhair had asked for another spell, and Matt quickly looked back down at the book. "I've only got the one, Brownhair, so we're gonna make it work!" Suddenly, stones started being hailed at them. "Shit, shit, okay uh, there's a knife in my jacket pocket, someone use it!" He said as he looked at the... Mankey, was it? and shouted his spell, sending a lightning bolt at it. He quickly turned to the other stone throwers, and brought down his righteous thunder upon them. They had to hold out for the Knight, right? Why not get her attention? "Hey! Hey, you, with the fair maidens! Get your ass over here and help me kill these pokemon!" He shouted, before attempting to strike down another pokemon with his spell. | **Real name:** Matthew
**Age:** 14
**Appearance:** (
**Personality:** Matt proclaims himself a natural-born leader. He is the person who tends to take charge in most situations, and is the quickest to start making commands. This is balanced out with the fact that he is really easy to aggravate. If he doesn't like you, he will generally make it clear, and then ask you to either change, or get as far away from him as possible. He also tries to act funny, making jokes about himself and others to hide his nihilistic self-loathing.
As for interests, he loves videogames ranging from Smash Bros. to Fire Emblem to Borderlands. Once he finds a good game (Or anything to obsess over, really) he will latch onto it immediately, and then leave it within a week or two. He also enjoys webcomics, and has an interest in comedy, listening to various standup routines and comedy shows.
**History:** When Matt was young, his parents divorced. This led to him, his mother, and his sister having to move a lot. This meant Matt never got to make many friends up until about the 6th grade, where they finally settled down, and his mother remarried. Once he had some friends, he realized he wasn't content. He wanted to leave, to escape, to leave the world he considered had no purpose.
**Starting items:**
- Survival Knife: Includes matches, fishing line with hook, a compass. thread with needle, two buttons.
- Smartphone device with charger.
- Nintendo 3DS with Fire Emblem: Awakening, and Super Smash Brothers for 3DS.
**Ability:** When Matt first warped, he found in his hand, a book. Inside this book was a single page. On this page there is text unreadable by all but him. When this text is read aloud, Matt can direct a lightning bolt at an enemy. The more points Matt invests in "Tomes" the more pages, and by extension spells, are added to the book. |
8,477 | 232 | 18 | 893 | 1,258 | What's a knife gonna do? Some wizard you are. Tyler says as the rhino beast was upon them. He jumped back as the beast charged forward with reckless momentum, knowing that if that thing got in their midst it would surly kill them.
That's when something strange occurred. From behind him something shot toward the creature, something he could barely see. Seemingly in slow motion it zipped up to the charging beast and gripped it by its drill like horn, pulling with all its momentum. The creatures balance was thrown off, its head tipping to far forward for its weight to handle, and it lost its footing. The charge became a flying tumble, sending it headlong into the lake behind them.
Before Tyler could even get his thoughts together he spied from the corner of his eyes a fist sized stone sailing direly for his head. He brought his arms up to cover his face, but when he heard a meaty impact he didn't feel the corresponding pain. As he looked out from between his palms, he saw it.
A hand. A human hand, the size of his own floating, nearly translucent, in the air. In its palm it cradled the huge rock, which it let slide to the ground. Then it turned, palm first to him, as though awaiting orders.
"What're you then, a ghost?" He asked, perplexed, before remembering that this thing at least was not currently trying to kill him. Maybe it could make some use of the knife, seeing it could fly and all. As if reading his mind the phantom fist zipped over to Matt and wrenched the knife out of his jacket pocket, turing instatly to swing into the oncoming hoard. | Real name: Tyler Bacon
Age: 29
Appearance: Tall, sort of out of shape Caucasian male with short brown hair. Built like someone who has only just recently started to show the effects of steady exorcise.
Personality: It is very rare to see Tyler Bacon truly happy, but on the other hand it's rare to see him truly angry. He mostly seems to exist in a state of perpetually perplexed melancholy, the strongest emotion he ever shows is annoyance. A very practically minded person whose sense of wonder seems to have shriveled up and died a long time ago, he's liable to be more impressed with someone starting a fire with a flint and steel than, say, obliterating and entire countryside with a concentrated blast of it. Generally stupid, having a very simple view of most all situations. Doesn't like to bother people with his problems.
History: Tyler is a traveler, though not by his own choice. A delivery man and furniture mover, he hit it off with a rich heiress named Stella Trombold while helping her move in to her new mansion. For the life of them their friends could not understand what she sees in him, but prevailing theory is that she enjoys his simplicity and the fact that he doesn't talk back much. Stella herself is a bit of an adventurer, and Tyler dutifully gets dragged along to the four corners of the Earth by her. He would much rather they be at home, doing something simple like watching television and while he's sure the bug and frogs and things are lovely if you like them, he would much rather have a sandwich. He tells her these things as often as they come up, but never actually finds it in his heart to refuse.
He is currently on another vacation right at this moment, Stella having given him a little free time to wonder about on his own.
Starting items: Small traveling bag, Guide to (Wherever he is before the first jump), three sandwiches, 2 bottled water, $650 cash allowance, small umbrella, cellphone.
Ability: Phantom Limb
A third hand that floats about independently of Tyler, controlled by his will. About as strong and dexterous as a normal human hand, but doesn't get tired and is much faster. Able to move freely through non-living things. Tyler always knows where the hand is. |
8,478 | 232 | 19 | 2,357 | 516 | A black belt appeared out of the Driver, looping around Rachel's waist. It actually worked! Quickly, she glanced at the two rings she had. The first looked similar to the gate on the Driver, with a large keyhole in the middle. Not really necessary, since the Driver seemed to already be active. The second was the Bea- That wasn't the Beast Ring, it looked more like...Rachel sighed, given the alternative seemed to involve being eaten by a pokemon, she had to at least give this a try. She slipped the ring on and inserted it into a slot on the Driver.
"SET, OPEN!" The belt announced.
For a moment, Rachel seemed to stare off into space, as the Ogre phantom entered her mind to explain the contract she'd be making. Although having heard it in Wizard, she mostly just nodded along and spent the time trying to work out what the hell was happening, a name for her Rider form and other such important questions. Afterwards, a grin appeared on her face.
"It's morphin' time!" She declared.
"O-G-R-E! OGRE!" The driver called, projecting an purple magic circle. The magical symbol proceeded to pass over Rachel, leaving an armoured figure in its wake. Rachel gave her suit a quick look over, trying to avoid laughing maniacally, squeeing or any other such response that might come from finding that you've become a superhero from something you previously thought was fictional.
"Now then..." She placed a hand against the Driver, seemingly pulling a sword out of the device before pointing it at the approaching quartet of monsters. "Which one of you will offer up your life to the glorious Ogre?!" | Real name: Rachel Kay
Age: 21
Appearance: Similar to ( except she generally wears jeans and an Iron Maiden or Kamen Rider-based T-shirt rather than a tracksuit. She's roughly 5'6" tall.
Personality: Rachel is shy around people she doesn't know. However once she feels comfortable around someone, she becomes more cheerful and energetic, if a bit snarky at times. She can be surprisingly hammy, when she feels the situation calls for it. She is a fan of assorted manga and anime, mostly slice of life or action series, as well as assorted tokusatsu series. She also enjoys music, mostly metal (generally more of the heavy or power varieties) and rock and cooking.
History: There isn't really much to say. Rachel has had a boring, ordinary life for the most part. Her parents split up when she was little, although it was mostly civil and she still sees both of them. She coasted through school without any real effort, getting decent grades in the process. She recently moved out of home and started studying to become a teacher.
Starting items: Glasses, a Playstation Portable and a horribly outdated mobile phone.
Ability: The Tyrant Driver, as well as the Tyrant and Driver On rings. The Driver is fairly similar to the ( in appearance and function, and normally looks like a belt with a silver buckle shaped like a closed gate. The Driver On ring's only function is to activate the Driver, allowing Rachel to transform into Kamen Rider Tyrant by inserting the Tyrant Ring in a slot on the Driver's left hand side and turning it counter-clockwise, opening the front buckle that reveals a golden image of ( head inside. In this form, she wields a ( which she can use with some proficiency thanks to Ogre, though she's far from an expert. In addition, as a Kamen Rider, her physical abilities are boosted and the armour provides a good level of defence.
As Tyrant, Rachel dons a suit of armour resembling Ogre's appearance, with some differences. Her helmet resembles the right side of his head, mirrored and with larger, red eyes. Her chest and shoulder armour resemble the grey side of his body (although with the grey parts coloured purple), rather than the large mouth and yellow parts. Similarly the legs have the purple sections uninterrupted by the mouths on Ogre. The armour on both of her arms resembles Ogre's left arm. |
8,479 | 232 | 20 | 1,489 | 1,400 | The flashes of lightning brought several pokemon down, and they didn't get up. Their bodies were still moving, but barely as if breathing was almost too much trouble to apply the effort. The horde paused, unsure of how to react. It wasn't that they weren't used to seeing lightning flash down from the skies to strike them. There wasn't a pokemon there who hadn't been hit by thunder at one point or another. It was a fairly common type for attacking. What brought them to the stop was that some of the pokemon on the ground shouldn't have been on the ground, because their high special defenses should've kept them on their feet. So then, there had to be something about the lightning that wasn't reacting right.
The effects of the lightning weren't lost on the pokemon with the second group. Only the Kangaskhan looked like he was still ready for a fight. Her eyes were locked on the one with blade, fist in a fighter's stance, hoping she'd make a move first.
Somewhere off in the distance the Rhyperior made a startled sound as his head broke the water's surface that had nothing to do with elemental weakness. It was chocked off fast enough to make it a relatively certain that nobody else heard it.
"Oh." Jynmi looked around, eyes narrowing as he tried to see any of their enemies sneaking towards them. "Are we done then? That wasn't too bad." He nodded at himself, certain things couldn't go on like this any longer. "It looks that way." He turned towards the others. "Should we relax? We're strangers to these guys, and if neither of you mind me saying so, probably don't look to friendly." He turned down and nudged a nearby furret with his left foot. "Especially with these guys all sprayed out and half dead looking." This wasn't very nice, and the pokemon made this known by growling lowly in their throats, letting everyone involved know there was a limit to their uncertainty. "Ooops. Sorry." He backed up and raised his hands in surrender. "I get it. I'll be have." Or he'd try, at least, but there wouldn't be any promises made. Of course he wouldn't say it out loud, but it was there, and he worried about mind readers.
As the standoff was going on, towards the other end of the lake, a few bubbles started floating up to the water's surface. They didn't look very sinister, unless one looked closer at the strange glowing green mist that wafted upwards like a fat man up a flight of stairs, after each bubble popped. Slowly, the spot where the bubbles started moved outwards, creating a line that looked like there was a streak of boiling water heading for the other end of the lake. None of the pokemon noticed it, but for an ivysaur, who was fairly certain he'd seen something like it before.
What would have been preferred was if it alerted the rest, but it had only recently evolved, and wanted to be a hero. So it began gathering solar power, reading a blast. It's whole body tensed with fear and excitement.
"Ugh! I can't take this any more. Why do you think I never watch thrillers." He stepped forwards and called with his hands over his mouth to act like a microphone. "Hey, are we done? Can we all live in peace now?" In response, because the ivysaur was so tightly wound, it looked in the group's direction, and forgot about holding the solar energy.
There was a bright flash of green light that burst through someone in the crowd, and would've smashed into Jynmi, and probably kept going, if not for him raising his hands and a wall of light appearing before him. The green light exploded on said wall, and send Jynmi flying backwards into a tree which didn't let him go any further. "Ouch."
This was a good enough sign as any for the other pokemon, especially the ones who didn't care about being hurt or not, but just wanted for the stand off to end, and they started moving again. The Kangaskhan rushed the woman with the sword, meaning to take her head off with the glowing fist that was mega punch. A Shedjina decided the guy with the lightning was their greatest threat, and shot at him like a bullet, a fat, bug eyed bullet with wicked looking claws. The scyther, right behind it, decided to go for one who caused her budddy Rhyperior to fall into the lake. It would have to be fast so she could help him get out, or get someone who could help, get out to help. | Real name: James(Jimmy(Jynmi)) Martinez
AGe:24
Appearance: Before the jump, Jimmy was a tall, wide figured individual, a little chubby with some muscle showing through. His skin was tan, and his eyes and hair were both dark brown. Afterwards, he lost about a foot, and became much more wiry. His skin took on a pale color, and his hair was just a shade lighter than his flesh. His eyes underwent the most extreme change. The one on the left became maroon color, and the one on the right became a bright blue. Another change is a few of his scars, one on his back, one on his forearm, and one just below the temple have all disappeared without a trace.
Personality: Jimmy is rather quiet and unsure of himself. He doesn't do well in crowds and has some trouble with meeting new people. He always holds a part of himself back. Despite having limited experience with meeting people, he has a very strong sense of empathy and can detect what people are feeling. Despite being almost entirely submissive by nature, there is a hard part in him that will not yield, and that's whenever something doesn't hold up to standards of his own personal moral code.
History: Jynmi spent most of his early life at home, reading, writing, and wishing he was somewhere else doing something interesting. Then, as he grew older, he went to school part time, and worked part time. Afterwards, there was a small part of his life spent in semi-whintess protection after revealing the headquarters of a drug smuggling gang. By Semi-whiteness protection, I mean he moved into a motel on the other side of town.
Starting items: Pentagon Pendant, wind breaker Jacket, Wrist watch, Glasses, leather gloves, container of pepper spray, lighter
Ability- Focus-With the Use of his pentagon Jynmi can channel energy and create barriers of blue light. The barriers exists a set distance from him. Though, he can't move them independently, they'll move with him. There's no set level of damage One of his barriers can hold, but there are a few limitations. First, the larger the barrier, the greater amount of time he's holding it, or the more damage it takes, the harder it is for him to keep his focus, and maintain his barrier. |
8,480 | 232 | 21 | 893 | 1,258 | Just how many wizards were around here. This guy, that other guy, the weird toad that'd just shot other guy. Was there some sort of secret school around here?
He didn't get to ride that train of thought very far before what only as some sort of giant death bug descended on him, all blades and wing beats. As he fell backwards into the mud away from the swipe of its claws that ghost hand streaked back over and deflected a strike that would have taken off his head with Matt's knife.
He'd been attacked by bees before, and though this wasn't a bee it looked like a sort of bug. There was one surefire way to get away from bees, and it was right behind him. He threw his bag on the ground, scrambled to his feet, leaped into the lake, and dived. I was a lot deeper than he though it was, and dropped off very close to the shore. Had he dumped that rhino into the deep end? Weren't they endangered? Could they swim?
He looked around for the rhino. | Real name: Tyler Bacon
Age: 29
Appearance: Tall, sort of out of shape Caucasian male with short brown hair. Built like someone who has only just recently started to show the effects of steady exorcise.
Personality: It is very rare to see Tyler Bacon truly happy, but on the other hand it's rare to see him truly angry. He mostly seems to exist in a state of perpetually perplexed melancholy, the strongest emotion he ever shows is annoyance. A very practically minded person whose sense of wonder seems to have shriveled up and died a long time ago, he's liable to be more impressed with someone starting a fire with a flint and steel than, say, obliterating and entire countryside with a concentrated blast of it. Generally stupid, having a very simple view of most all situations. Doesn't like to bother people with his problems.
History: Tyler is a traveler, though not by his own choice. A delivery man and furniture mover, he hit it off with a rich heiress named Stella Trombold while helping her move in to her new mansion. For the life of them their friends could not understand what she sees in him, but prevailing theory is that she enjoys his simplicity and the fact that he doesn't talk back much. Stella herself is a bit of an adventurer, and Tyler dutifully gets dragged along to the four corners of the Earth by her. He would much rather they be at home, doing something simple like watching television and while he's sure the bug and frogs and things are lovely if you like them, he would much rather have a sandwich. He tells her these things as often as they come up, but never actually finds it in his heart to refuse.
He is currently on another vacation right at this moment, Stella having given him a little free time to wonder about on his own.
Starting items: Small traveling bag, Guide to (Wherever he is before the first jump), three sandwiches, 2 bottled water, $650 cash allowance, small umbrella, cellphone.
Ability: Phantom Limb
A third hand that floats about independently of Tyler, controlled by his will. About as strong and dexterous as a normal human hand, but doesn't get tired and is much faster. Able to move freely through non-living things. Tyler always knows where the hand is. |
8,481 | 232 | 22 | 2,628 | 9,853 | Anno took a step back. So... so there was... the one girl was now a Kamen Rider. Okay so it really was... did that mean that this really was a real Lovely Compact? Is that seriously what was going on here? And the Pokemon... wild Pokemon did kind of tend to attack people didn't they... And if they all attacked, they'd be outnumbered! She couldn't just run, she had to do something, but what could she do?
The brown-haired girl looked down at the Lovely Compact. That's right... if the belts were real, then this could be too! Taking a deep breath, she traced her finger on the heart symbol. This was a little embarrassing, but if it worked it was really her only chance at all.
The device spoke as her finger moved.
"L-O-V-E!" it declared, and light flared from it and engulfed her almost immediately. Anno found herself floating, her clothing dissipating as her body was surrounded by light. She could feel ribbons wrapping around her, clothing forming, it... it really was happening! Her hair, too... it went from brown to a pale blonde, her ponytail standing more upright and growing even longer than it was already. When the light faded, she couldn't help but look herself over, stunned.
"I... I really turned into Cure Heart!" | Real name: Anno
Age: 21
Appearance: Brown hair, pale skin, blue eyes, red sweater, blue skirt
Personality: Shy and somewhat reclusive, Anno spends most of her time reading or on the computer. While she is a bit more likely to be somewhat open among friends, her nerves get to her easily and she sometimes suffers from anxiety. She does her best to try and work through this, but it can sometimes be rather difficult to do so. She is a fan of action and slice of life works, as well as comedies. She is also a fan of yuri. She likes cute things a great deal and is very, very much against seeing children hurt for any reason. Anno is a massive fan of the Nasuverse, Touhou, and a lot of other things that would take an unnecessarily large amount of space to list.
History: Anno's life is mostly uninteresting, she's mostly just a normal girl.
Starting items: WIP
Ability: WIP
Getting this up while I can, will finish it soon. ^^; |
8,482 | 232 | 23 | 1,427 | 1,081 | Reality
Jon sighed as he hauled himself up the fourth flight of stairs, his head down and his MP3 player blasting loudly in his ears.
You could have taken the lift, you know. But no... You "needed the exercise"... He thought to himself. Rolling his eyes at the voice in his head, he pushed open the toilet door, not noticing the fact that it lead straight into some shimmering portal.
----
He alighted on the other side with a bump.
OK, that's kind of oversimplifying it. The portal appeared a few inches off the ground, so he tipped forward stepping out, and faceplanted.
"Ow. What the hell just happened?"
Slowly, he shifted into a sitting position, and looked around. Somehow, he'd been teleported from the university campus to some sort of forest. However, before he could get his bearings, some sort of device fell out of the sky and clocked him on the head. He picked it up.
"OK, so I'm in a weird forest, and someone's throwing Kamen Rider belts at me."
Suddenly, through the trees, he spotted some bright flashes and the sound of battle. He pushed himself back onto his feet, and started to run.
So is there where finally hitting the gym starts to pay off?
----
What he saw as he broke through the treeline was... strange. First, the Pokémon. Secondly, what looked like characters he thought were fictional fighting them. And something telling him he should be helping them do it. With a sigh, he took out the belt that had hit him in the head, and slapped it to his waist, causing the strap to appear.
"Well, here goes nothing." He sighed, flipping the four red switches on the front down. As the countdown finished, he pushed the handle on the right forward, thrusting his arm into the air. At once, some sort of ring rose out of nowhere, forming a white and orange suit. Jon looked down at his new outfit.
"OK, I've got no idea what just happened, but you know what? IT'S SPACE TIME!" He shouted, punching the air with both fists. | Still taking sheets?
Real name: Jonathan
Age: 22
Appearance: A bit like this.
Personality: A bit of a nerd, although not too prone to geeking out. Used to be quite shy, but working on opening up to the world.
History: Fairly standard nerd backstory. Bullied at school, lost himself in the Internet for a while as a result. Recently realised he needs to belt up and actually make something of his life rather than just wasting away in front of a computer. Although he’s also not sure exactly what that means.
Starting items: Carries a rucksack containing a laptop, charger, notepads and pens, and assorted USB cables. Has a smartphone, MP3 player and assorted other odds and ends in his pockets.
Ability: |
8,483 | 232 | 24 | 1,180 | 1,981 | Matt caught his breath after all that screaming and shouting. It looked like they didn't even need the knight anyways, lucky him. Pokemon lied twitching and spasming on the ground uselessly. Others still stood, fortunate enough to not have been targeted by him. Yet. He sighed as a stand off occurred. Or maybe it was actual peace? He doubted it. Suddenly then, he heard the sound of wind rushing by him. As he turned around he noticed his comrade almost getting hit by some kind of laser beam. Before Matt could react, he also heard a buzzing behind him. Matt turned to be graced with the image of a Shedinija, rushing towards him.
Matt gasped for breath as a speeding bullet of a bug slammed into his chest with razor like claws. He absolutely abhorred bugs. He groaned in pain as he got up and stared at the monstrosity before him, and then down at his now red coated shirt. "Heheh." He laughed, shortly there afterward coughing and hacking up a small amount of blood. "Bad ch-choice, fuckhead." He said, a poisonous venom coating his words. He was mad, honest to god mad at the stupid insignificant bug that had stabbed him. He screamed his magical hex and a righteous lightning struck the animal down. He continued throwing around his lightning indiscriminately as he slowly made his way toward Jymni. A leader always looked out for their teammates first. | **Real name:** Matthew
**Age:** 14
**Appearance:** (
**Personality:** Matt proclaims himself a natural-born leader. He is the person who tends to take charge in most situations, and is the quickest to start making commands. This is balanced out with the fact that he is really easy to aggravate. If he doesn't like you, he will generally make it clear, and then ask you to either change, or get as far away from him as possible. He also tries to act funny, making jokes about himself and others to hide his nihilistic self-loathing.
As for interests, he loves videogames ranging from Smash Bros. to Fire Emblem to Borderlands. Once he finds a good game (Or anything to obsess over, really) he will latch onto it immediately, and then leave it within a week or two. He also enjoys webcomics, and has an interest in comedy, listening to various standup routines and comedy shows.
**History:** When Matt was young, his parents divorced. This led to him, his mother, and his sister having to move a lot. This meant Matt never got to make many friends up until about the 6th grade, where they finally settled down, and his mother remarried. Once he had some friends, he realized he wasn't content. He wanted to leave, to escape, to leave the world he considered had no purpose.
**Starting items:**
- Survival Knife: Includes matches, fishing line with hook, a compass. thread with needle, two buttons.
- Smartphone device with charger.
- Nintendo 3DS with Fire Emblem: Awakening, and Super Smash Brothers for 3DS.
**Ability:** When Matt first warped, he found in his hand, a book. Inside this book was a single page. On this page there is text unreadable by all but him. When this text is read aloud, Matt can direct a lightning bolt at an enemy. The more points Matt invests in "Tomes" the more pages, and by extension spells, are added to the book. |
8,484 | 232 | 25 | 1,880 | 1,108 | Dan saw people around him transform. Some into armored heroes, others into magical girls. He held the Switch in hand.
"Now... make your wish upon the stars..." A voice called to him.
"... I wish to be a hero!" Dan thought. He then shouted with all his heart:
"SWITCH... ON!" With a press of the switch, an aura of dark clouds emerged from his body. A handful of bright blue lights in the shape of an inverted Y were the only things to stand out from the clouds. Three of them was a red light, one top of the inverted Y and one on each of the bottoms. Dan's eyes glowed hot red as the cloud dissipated. Gone was his human appearance.
Instead, it was a figure dressed in sleek black body armor, with the shoulders having moldings that resemble a bird's wings. The Inverted Y makes its appearance as a bright red line going down from the neck, branching around at the waist as the two lines go onto the legs. The lights that appeared made their feature in the form of jewel-like circles adorned on the spots where they shined. On his waist was a bigger, larger blue circle, standing out like it was a buckle. The head has no face to speak of, but rather a yellow arrow pointing downwards over a black surface of what appeared to be glass. On the sides of the head were the same bird wing like designs, though where as the wings look closed on the shoulders, the wings look open on the helmet. Its forearms had a similar wing design, though they seem to be the edges of feathers sticking out. This, along with his silver, metallic and sharp hands, give the arms the look of arrows.
Those who have known their astronomy would know that it would make sense for a monster based off the constellation, Sagitta, to have arrow-like arms.
"I... I did it... I've transformed!" Dan then posed to the flytrap. "LISTEN HERE! MY NAME IS ITEZAKI DAN! OR FOR THIS FIGHT, SAGITTA!" | Real name: Dan Itezaki
Age: 18
Appearance: He's actually very shy and when he's put on the spot, he tends to choke up.
Personality: Dan is Hot-Blooded. There's no dancing around that topic. Give him the moment and he'll shout out to the heavens about his burning passion. Because of his upbringing, he's actually very shy and when he's put on the spot, he tends to choke up. He believes to have difficulty making and keeping friends. However, when it comes to fictional characters, he's more than willing to talk with them, even protect them if need be.
History: Dan used to live in Japan where he lived a pretty normal kid life, albeit with divorced parents. He lived like this until his mom, Yumi Yajirushi, fell in love with a famous author, Todoroshi Itezaki. Dan liked Todoroshi's work even before his mom met him, so he was fine with it. However, when they married, things changed. His mom and him changed their last names to Itezaki. Not really the worst thing to happen to him, but something else loomed. Todoroshi hit writer's block, and his solution is to go for greener pastures and hit up America.
Moving to America was perhaps the biggest change in Dan's life. It completely shattered him as he had to learn English, make new friends, and adapt to America's system. This could be the main reason why Dan is the Shrinking Violet he is now. However, that changed when he went to his new high school and was approached by an equally shy girl. To his delight, she knew how to speak Japanese (if only to watch anime without subs) and the two formed a bond. Eventually, she offered Dan to join the School Drama Club, to which he did. It was this bond that helped him learn more of the English language to the point where his dialect is no different than a native to America.
His time acting out plays combined with Todoroshi's stories helped fill the empty void in his heart that had formed when he moved. There is a side effect though. While it filled the void, it also added a new one: a desire. His desire? To escape into other worlds. Fortunately, it wasn't a big enough desire for his parents to be concerned about. In fact, Todoroshi likes Dan's newfound Escapism.
Starting items: Todoroshi's newest book, "The Frozen Tears Of A Big Hero", a modern English script to Macbeth (with Maccuff's lines highlighted in yellow), and a bowtie that Yumi gave him on his first day of school ("Boutaizu Aru Kuru" she told him.)
Ability: Along with those items, Dan also has, upon traveling, a Zodiarts Switch (possibly given to him by a Horoscopes). This Switch allows him to transform into the Arrow-based monster known as the Sagitta Zodiarts. Its initial ability is to fire arrow-shaped energy bolts at people. The Zodiarts Switch reacts to emotions, positive or negative, and will achieve the "Last One" phase once those emotions become so powerful that it's as if the user wishes to cease its existence as a human. Upon this, the human permanently becomes a Zodiarts. However... there is are ways to become human again. |
8,485 | 232 | 26 | 1,489 | 1,400 | The thing beneath the water found the Rhino-like pokemon first. The thing was floundering on the water's surface, trying to swim, but the density made the act futile. Poor thing didn't even know that the water surrounding it, and pulling it down like a stone on pudding, was the absolute least of its worries. The thing didn't quiet understand what the pokemon was. It didn't need to. Its task was simple enough. Find the highest concentration of life forms in the area, and take as many samples as possible. Long, glistening tentacles that glowed with a violet green light moved up towards the floundering stone beast, and wrapped around it so quickly, so tightly, the creature, for all its strength, never had a chance. Some blood was lost in the clear blue water, but not much. Most of it was preserved, kept for use. Done with the first specimen, the creature paused, and its mind moved outwards, and located its next victim, not another of the animals, but something closer to its own god. It started towards the thing in the water, near the surface and the land.
Jynmi flew through the air like a dart, that's to say he wasn't so much as flying as racing towards a target without his feet having to waste time touching the ground. Said target was a tree, and the young man hit it better than any dart player in the history of the UK, or would've if not for the fact his body didn't stay stuck into it. The world bounced around before him, and he came crashing down like a stone, or a human body that was flung against a tree. First, there was the pain, so he laid there for a moment, and then came the fear his spine had been destroyed. So he jumped to his feet. It hurt. His back was definitely bruised. "I'm alive." He called out in triumph, and encase anyone was worried about him. Luckily the guy with the lightning was, or he'd feel like nobody cared.
"Wow, what happened? Weren't we at a stand still?" He called currying over to the guy with the lightning bolts, and book. He shook his head in awe at the closing horde of pokemon that suddenly didn't look so cute anymore. They were still cute, don't get it wrong, its just there teeth, claws, and angry dispositions were a lot more noticeable than in the games. "There might be a way this is good, but I just can't think of any." As the group closed in, more and more started getting past the lightning, making Jynmi want to take a step back too, but he fought that urge down, and buried it in a shallow grave. It would rise again, but there would be a good amount of clawing it would have to do first. "Don't worry. I've got your back." He said to the guy with the lightning. Immediately he wished he hadn't because the pokemon were getting smart, and were diving themselves up into three groups. One come towards them directly, and the other two breaking off into left and ride. It made him think of a river that forked three times with big, colorful animaly chunks floating in it.
Anno's transformation couldn't have come quickly enough, because just as her appearance changed, or possibly as a result of said change, a muscular pokemon with a wrestling belt noticed her, and started making its way to her, fist clenched at its side, and bright white light starting to glow from it.
Raticate wasn't really a fighter, but it wanted to fight. He needed to fight. He also didn't want to wait in line to do so. Feeling gloomy, the rat leaned against a tree, and watched sadly at the action. That's when it noticed the newcomer. He didn't seem to be with others. Perhaps he was defenseless. With a smirk, a chance to prove itself. The pokemon hurried towards the stranger, but stopped just at the edge of the tall grass. It took a moment to gather its courage, the guy was after all a great many times bigger than itself, but that wouldn't be a problem; that's what a sneak attack was for. Its legs tensed, and he let out a battle cry, a shrill squeaky battle cry, and lunged at the intruder just as the clothes changed, and something orange and white took its place. The raticate tried to veer to the side, but changing midair wasn't something it could do. Flying towards the stranger's back was its only option.
The carnivine's head tilted to the side in confusion. It blinked a time, and then another, before shrugging, before its vine whips pulled back and launched towards the one talking about transforming. | Real name: James(Jimmy(Jynmi)) Martinez
AGe:24
Appearance: Before the jump, Jimmy was a tall, wide figured individual, a little chubby with some muscle showing through. His skin was tan, and his eyes and hair were both dark brown. Afterwards, he lost about a foot, and became much more wiry. His skin took on a pale color, and his hair was just a shade lighter than his flesh. His eyes underwent the most extreme change. The one on the left became maroon color, and the one on the right became a bright blue. Another change is a few of his scars, one on his back, one on his forearm, and one just below the temple have all disappeared without a trace.
Personality: Jimmy is rather quiet and unsure of himself. He doesn't do well in crowds and has some trouble with meeting new people. He always holds a part of himself back. Despite having limited experience with meeting people, he has a very strong sense of empathy and can detect what people are feeling. Despite being almost entirely submissive by nature, there is a hard part in him that will not yield, and that's whenever something doesn't hold up to standards of his own personal moral code.
History: Jynmi spent most of his early life at home, reading, writing, and wishing he was somewhere else doing something interesting. Then, as he grew older, he went to school part time, and worked part time. Afterwards, there was a small part of his life spent in semi-whintess protection after revealing the headquarters of a drug smuggling gang. By Semi-whiteness protection, I mean he moved into a motel on the other side of town.
Starting items: Pentagon Pendant, wind breaker Jacket, Wrist watch, Glasses, leather gloves, container of pepper spray, lighter
Ability- Focus-With the Use of his pentagon Jynmi can channel energy and create barriers of blue light. The barriers exists a set distance from him. Though, he can't move them independently, they'll move with him. There's no set level of damage One of his barriers can hold, but there are a few limitations. First, the larger the barrier, the greater amount of time he's holding it, or the more damage it takes, the harder it is for him to keep his focus, and maintain his barrier. |
8,486 | 232 | 27 | 893 | 1,258 | Whatever Tylar had expected to see it was not that. Something was triggered within him, some deep and primal feeling of nope that flowed through his body as the thing finished with the rhino and turned to face him. He started swimming upwards as fast as he could, but in his panicked need to get away it as more like flailing and he failed to go anywhere and the thing closed in on him. Then he felt something grab hold of his shirt collar and yank.
His head broke surface as the phantom limb dragged him to the shoreline. He scrambled in the mud and out of the water, clawing his way onto land. He ignored everything. He just started sprinting past the assembled animals for the treeline, shouting the only thing he could compare what he'd seen to, that name Stella had for the plushy that sat on her nightstand.
"Cthulhu!" he yelled, running madly. "Cthulhu!" He shouted as a warning to any that was in a state to hear. "Cthulhu!"
In the back of his mind he knew that he'd forgotten his bag at the shoreline, that he wouldn't be able to get anywhere without lunch and his wallet. The rational part of his mind knew he'd get reprimanded for losing it.
The Phantom Limb followed along behind him, bag in tow. | Real name: Tyler Bacon
Age: 29
Appearance: Tall, sort of out of shape Caucasian male with short brown hair. Built like someone who has only just recently started to show the effects of steady exorcise.
Personality: It is very rare to see Tyler Bacon truly happy, but on the other hand it's rare to see him truly angry. He mostly seems to exist in a state of perpetually perplexed melancholy, the strongest emotion he ever shows is annoyance. A very practically minded person whose sense of wonder seems to have shriveled up and died a long time ago, he's liable to be more impressed with someone starting a fire with a flint and steel than, say, obliterating and entire countryside with a concentrated blast of it. Generally stupid, having a very simple view of most all situations. Doesn't like to bother people with his problems.
History: Tyler is a traveler, though not by his own choice. A delivery man and furniture mover, he hit it off with a rich heiress named Stella Trombold while helping her move in to her new mansion. For the life of them their friends could not understand what she sees in him, but prevailing theory is that she enjoys his simplicity and the fact that he doesn't talk back much. Stella herself is a bit of an adventurer, and Tyler dutifully gets dragged along to the four corners of the Earth by her. He would much rather they be at home, doing something simple like watching television and while he's sure the bug and frogs and things are lovely if you like them, he would much rather have a sandwich. He tells her these things as often as they come up, but never actually finds it in his heart to refuse.
He is currently on another vacation right at this moment, Stella having given him a little free time to wonder about on his own.
Starting items: Small traveling bag, Guide to (Wherever he is before the first jump), three sandwiches, 2 bottled water, $650 cash allowance, small umbrella, cellphone.
Ability: Phantom Limb
A third hand that floats about independently of Tyler, controlled by his will. About as strong and dexterous as a normal human hand, but doesn't get tired and is much faster. Able to move freely through non-living things. Tyler always knows where the hand is. |
8,487 | 232 | 28 | 2,628 | 9,853 | ... Okay there was really no time to dwell on being Cure Heart.
That Machoke-it was choke, right? Champ was the one with all the arms, right?-looked pretty angry and it was coming right for her. The name of the attack it was using slipped her mind, but Anno knew that she didn't want to get hit by it. But... But she was a Precure now! And being a Precure meant she was quite possibly one of the most hand-to-hand-oriented magical girls! Squaring up her feet, Anno drew back her right hand. If it was charging up an attack that meant it'd probably not be able to react too well to anything she did! Slamming one foot down, the currently-blonde girl rushed forward, feeling the air whip past her as she sprinted at speeds previously unattainable!
Curling her hand into a fist, the moment she got close she ducked low and swung her fist upward to deliver a hard blow directly to the Pokemon's chest! She was a Precure, after all, they fought monsters all the time! | Real name: Anno
Age: 21
Appearance: Brown hair, pale skin, blue eyes, red sweater, blue skirt
Personality: Shy and somewhat reclusive, Anno spends most of her time reading or on the computer. While she is a bit more likely to be somewhat open among friends, her nerves get to her easily and she sometimes suffers from anxiety. She does her best to try and work through this, but it can sometimes be rather difficult to do so. She is a fan of action and slice of life works, as well as comedies. She is also a fan of yuri. She likes cute things a great deal and is very, very much against seeing children hurt for any reason. Anno is a massive fan of the Nasuverse, Touhou, and a lot of other things that would take an unnecessarily large amount of space to list.
History: Anno's life is mostly uninteresting, she's mostly just a normal girl.
Starting items: WIP
Ability: WIP
Getting this up while I can, will finish it soon. ^^; |
8,488 | 232 | 29 | 2,357 | 516 | Rachel dove to the left, out of the path of the Kangaskhan's fist. Sure, she had armour on now, but she had played enough Pokemon to make a good guess at what that attack might've been and she didn't want that to hit if it could be avoided. Scrambling to her feet, she caught a glimpse of Dan's transformation. Was that a Zodiarts? Well, he seemed to be on their side at least. And there were more important things to worry about, like the pokemon that had just tried to knock her head off.
...And maybe the guy screaming about Cthulhu. Although it was also possible he'd just seen a Tentacruel or something, so she wasn't too concerned about that right now.
Okay, giant kangaroo thing, there was probably a Mantle for thi- Reaching down to her side, the Rider noticed a distinct lack of any rings aside from the one she'd used to transform hanging from her belt. Still, she was a Kamen Rider now, so fighting a monster like this shouldn't be too much of a problem. The brunette charged towards the Kangaskhan and brought her sword up, slashing diagonally across its chest. | Real name: Rachel Kay
Age: 21
Appearance: Similar to ( except she generally wears jeans and an Iron Maiden or Kamen Rider-based T-shirt rather than a tracksuit. She's roughly 5'6" tall.
Personality: Rachel is shy around people she doesn't know. However once she feels comfortable around someone, she becomes more cheerful and energetic, if a bit snarky at times. She can be surprisingly hammy, when she feels the situation calls for it. She is a fan of assorted manga and anime, mostly slice of life or action series, as well as assorted tokusatsu series. She also enjoys music, mostly metal (generally more of the heavy or power varieties) and rock and cooking.
History: There isn't really much to say. Rachel has had a boring, ordinary life for the most part. Her parents split up when she was little, although it was mostly civil and she still sees both of them. She coasted through school without any real effort, getting decent grades in the process. She recently moved out of home and started studying to become a teacher.
Starting items: Glasses, a Playstation Portable and a horribly outdated mobile phone.
Ability: The Tyrant Driver, as well as the Tyrant and Driver On rings. The Driver is fairly similar to the ( in appearance and function, and normally looks like a belt with a silver buckle shaped like a closed gate. The Driver On ring's only function is to activate the Driver, allowing Rachel to transform into Kamen Rider Tyrant by inserting the Tyrant Ring in a slot on the Driver's left hand side and turning it counter-clockwise, opening the front buckle that reveals a golden image of ( head inside. In this form, she wields a ( which she can use with some proficiency thanks to Ogre, though she's far from an expert. In addition, as a Kamen Rider, her physical abilities are boosted and the armour provides a good level of defence.
As Tyrant, Rachel dons a suit of armour resembling Ogre's appearance, with some differences. Her helmet resembles the right side of his head, mirrored and with larger, red eyes. Her chest and shoulder armour resemble the grey side of his body (although with the grey parts coloured purple), rather than the large mouth and yellow parts. Similarly the legs have the purple sections uninterrupted by the mouths on Ogre. The armour on both of her arms resembles Ogre's left arm. |
8,489 | 232 | 30 | 1,427 | 1,081 | Jon didn't quite have time to turn before the Raticate slammed into his back, and knocked him over. Rolling over, he looked back at the Pokémon.
"Angry? Or scared?" He wondered out loud, before snapping his fingers. "One way to find out."
Reaching down, he flipped the black switch in his belt.
"RADAR... ON." It announced, as a device that looked like a black and white satellite dish formed around his left arm, and began scanning the giant rat. | Still taking sheets?
Real name: Jonathan
Age: 22
Appearance: A bit like this.
Personality: A bit of a nerd, although not too prone to geeking out. Used to be quite shy, but working on opening up to the world.
History: Fairly standard nerd backstory. Bullied at school, lost himself in the Internet for a while as a result. Recently realised he needs to belt up and actually make something of his life rather than just wasting away in front of a computer. Although he’s also not sure exactly what that means.
Starting items: Carries a rucksack containing a laptop, charger, notepads and pens, and assorted USB cables. Has a smartphone, MP3 player and assorted other odds and ends in his pockets.
Ability: |
8,490 | 232 | 31 | 1,180 | 1,981 | Matt smiled as his new friend cemented his spot as the deadpan snarker as well as, well, a friend. "I got you back." He said, and Matt believed it. With new found strength, he stared at the battalion of pokemon facing him. They were getting smarter and breaking off into groups of three. Crafty little buggers. "Okay, here's the plan; we need to gather up every person willing to kill these little hellions, and break them off into three groups. Fight fire with fire, as they say." Matt said to Jymni. At that point, Tylar ran past them screaming about an eldritch abomination. "Okay, that's not good. Go get him, and find my knife, will you?" He commanded, before running off, and trying to dodge all the damn pokemon closing in on him. It was harder with that slash through his chest, but he managed to get to some lady fighting a ma-somethin' or other. "Hey, lady! After you take out that pokemon, I need some help! There are way more near the lake, and you seem pretty capable!" He shouted at her, hoping some others would hear as well, and band with him. | **Real name:** Matthew
**Age:** 14
**Appearance:** (
**Personality:** Matt proclaims himself a natural-born leader. He is the person who tends to take charge in most situations, and is the quickest to start making commands. This is balanced out with the fact that he is really easy to aggravate. If he doesn't like you, he will generally make it clear, and then ask you to either change, or get as far away from him as possible. He also tries to act funny, making jokes about himself and others to hide his nihilistic self-loathing.
As for interests, he loves videogames ranging from Smash Bros. to Fire Emblem to Borderlands. Once he finds a good game (Or anything to obsess over, really) he will latch onto it immediately, and then leave it within a week or two. He also enjoys webcomics, and has an interest in comedy, listening to various standup routines and comedy shows.
**History:** When Matt was young, his parents divorced. This led to him, his mother, and his sister having to move a lot. This meant Matt never got to make many friends up until about the 6th grade, where they finally settled down, and his mother remarried. Once he had some friends, he realized he wasn't content. He wanted to leave, to escape, to leave the world he considered had no purpose.
**Starting items:**
- Survival Knife: Includes matches, fishing line with hook, a compass. thread with needle, two buttons.
- Smartphone device with charger.
- Nintendo 3DS with Fire Emblem: Awakening, and Super Smash Brothers for 3DS.
**Ability:** When Matt first warped, he found in his hand, a book. Inside this book was a single page. On this page there is text unreadable by all but him. When this text is read aloud, Matt can direct a lightning bolt at an enemy. The more points Matt invests in "Tomes" the more pages, and by extension spells, are added to the book. |
8,491 | 232 | 32 | 1,880 | 1,108 | Dan targeted the Machoke as the magical girl went over and punched it. Huh, taking a more direct approach. Dan decides to be the ranged fighter in this battle. He held his hands out, cupping them to make a huge arrow, and aimed at the Machoke. There, he fired two light blue arrows at the Machoke. | Real name: Dan Itezaki
Age: 18
Appearance: He's actually very shy and when he's put on the spot, he tends to choke up.
Personality: Dan is Hot-Blooded. There's no dancing around that topic. Give him the moment and he'll shout out to the heavens about his burning passion. Because of his upbringing, he's actually very shy and when he's put on the spot, he tends to choke up. He believes to have difficulty making and keeping friends. However, when it comes to fictional characters, he's more than willing to talk with them, even protect them if need be.
History: Dan used to live in Japan where he lived a pretty normal kid life, albeit with divorced parents. He lived like this until his mom, Yumi Yajirushi, fell in love with a famous author, Todoroshi Itezaki. Dan liked Todoroshi's work even before his mom met him, so he was fine with it. However, when they married, things changed. His mom and him changed their last names to Itezaki. Not really the worst thing to happen to him, but something else loomed. Todoroshi hit writer's block, and his solution is to go for greener pastures and hit up America.
Moving to America was perhaps the biggest change in Dan's life. It completely shattered him as he had to learn English, make new friends, and adapt to America's system. This could be the main reason why Dan is the Shrinking Violet he is now. However, that changed when he went to his new high school and was approached by an equally shy girl. To his delight, she knew how to speak Japanese (if only to watch anime without subs) and the two formed a bond. Eventually, she offered Dan to join the School Drama Club, to which he did. It was this bond that helped him learn more of the English language to the point where his dialect is no different than a native to America.
His time acting out plays combined with Todoroshi's stories helped fill the empty void in his heart that had formed when he moved. There is a side effect though. While it filled the void, it also added a new one: a desire. His desire? To escape into other worlds. Fortunately, it wasn't a big enough desire for his parents to be concerned about. In fact, Todoroshi likes Dan's newfound Escapism.
Starting items: Todoroshi's newest book, "The Frozen Tears Of A Big Hero", a modern English script to Macbeth (with Maccuff's lines highlighted in yellow), and a bowtie that Yumi gave him on his first day of school ("Boutaizu Aru Kuru" she told him.)
Ability: Along with those items, Dan also has, upon traveling, a Zodiarts Switch (possibly given to him by a Horoscopes). This Switch allows him to transform into the Arrow-based monster known as the Sagitta Zodiarts. Its initial ability is to fire arrow-shaped energy bolts at people. The Zodiarts Switch reacts to emotions, positive or negative, and will achieve the "Last One" phase once those emotions become so powerful that it's as if the user wishes to cease its existence as a human. Upon this, the human permanently becomes a Zodiarts. However... there is are ways to become human again. |
8,492 | 232 | 33 | 1,489 | 1,400 | The tentacled being wasn't Cuthullu. It had never been to that universe, but that wasn't important, or even interesting. What was was the male thing with the translucent limb that screamed at the top of his lungs, and ran from it, but not because his words interested it. It just hadn't seen flying limbs before, and knew such a thing would have interesting material for later use. So its bulbous head broke through the water like a shark's head that had been smashed down into a grey bulb. It didn't stop on the shore, but kept on going. Long, tentacled limbs, hundreds if not thousands of them, each translucent with speared tips at the ends, shot out of the water, and pulled its big head after it. It stared following the man with the limbs quickly, covering a lot more ground that it's awkward strides should have allowed for.
The glow on the Machamp's fist lost its threatening sheen when the strangely dressed woman smashed her closed fist into its muscular chest. The Pokemon stumbled back, and almost tripped over, but it managed to find a tree on its left, and get its legs to stop twitching as the weight of its upper body had suddenly become a problem. It's brown eyes narrowed towards the woman and it started moving towards her, and got three feet, before it stopped and its head slowly moved upwards, mouth open and eyes staring with shock at the cause of the sudden shadow that fell over them. With a screech that would have sounded more at home coming out of a gigantic rodent, it turned on its heel and started running. No more than three feet had been taken before several projectiles hit it in the chest, spinning it around. It blinked down at the stick in it, unsure of what to make of the phenomenon, before going down to one knee, and then to and finally flat on its face, breathing hard.
Blood gushed out of the new wound on the kangaroo pokemon's chest, but it didn't pay it any mind. Its hands immediately moved down to check on the baby in its pouch, which was slightly startled, but otherwise unharmed. With an angry grunt it turned back towards its opponent and sized her up, and the sword in her hands, not wanting to make the same mistake twice. With a growl, it opened its mouth a long hot blast of blazing orange fire shot it in a trail of flames.
The raticate faced up at the stranger, unsure of what to do now. It backed away a little, unaware it was letting the man know it was scared. It gulped absent minded, trying to think of what to do next. Then it heard the machamp's scream, turned around, and saw the approaching shadow. Without another complicated thought it ran straight towards the stranger, planning on either going through his legs or bowling him over. There effeminately wasn't any time to go around.
"Oh but?" Jynmi raised a finger, curiously, in the hopes the guy with the knife would realize it was a sign that he wasn't done talking yet, but it was too late, and the apparent leader was already going doing something heroic. "Hmmm." With a frown he looked at his shoes, which were still there, but probably ruined thanks to the water, hoping they'd tell him something useful. A shadow fell over them, and then the general feel of panicked flooded the air like lightning and hail in a particularly nasty winter storm. He looked up and blinked. Then he looked around him and blinked. Yes, a few pokemon were still fighting with the group of people he still considered himself a part of, but a lot of them, were turning now to to run, or noting the tentacle thing and turning to run. So he decided to try something.
"HEY!!!" He called at the top of his voice, and then some, and pointed upwards at the bobbing bubble head with the bladed tentacles that was making its way inland. "SHOULD WE BE WORRIED ABOUT THAT?" The pokemon were the first to respond, and they did it in the affirmative. All but a pokemon here and there, two or three that were busy with the humans, turned tail and ran as if said tails had been set on fire, or frozen in a block of ice, electrocuted, or whatever it was they were weak against. "So maybe we should...." He frowned, because the guy in charge had gotten a lot further, and shrugged. "Okay let's all go that way then. It's not gaining any distance away from that thing." He pointed at the monstrosity. "But at least we're not hurrying towards it." He quickly scanned the ground, found the knife and ran after the guy. "Hey, I found your knife." He called as he came upon the guy and the girl with a sword. "I found your knife." He pointed, again at the thing, with more emphasis because there was an audience now. "So what're we going to do about that thing." He arched a brow at it. "Unless we don't have to worry about it."
In response several of the creature's tentacles lifted off the ground and shot towards them and every other living thing nearby. | Real name: James(Jimmy(Jynmi)) Martinez
AGe:24
Appearance: Before the jump, Jimmy was a tall, wide figured individual, a little chubby with some muscle showing through. His skin was tan, and his eyes and hair were both dark brown. Afterwards, he lost about a foot, and became much more wiry. His skin took on a pale color, and his hair was just a shade lighter than his flesh. His eyes underwent the most extreme change. The one on the left became maroon color, and the one on the right became a bright blue. Another change is a few of his scars, one on his back, one on his forearm, and one just below the temple have all disappeared without a trace.
Personality: Jimmy is rather quiet and unsure of himself. He doesn't do well in crowds and has some trouble with meeting new people. He always holds a part of himself back. Despite having limited experience with meeting people, he has a very strong sense of empathy and can detect what people are feeling. Despite being almost entirely submissive by nature, there is a hard part in him that will not yield, and that's whenever something doesn't hold up to standards of his own personal moral code.
History: Jynmi spent most of his early life at home, reading, writing, and wishing he was somewhere else doing something interesting. Then, as he grew older, he went to school part time, and worked part time. Afterwards, there was a small part of his life spent in semi-whintess protection after revealing the headquarters of a drug smuggling gang. By Semi-whiteness protection, I mean he moved into a motel on the other side of town.
Starting items: Pentagon Pendant, wind breaker Jacket, Wrist watch, Glasses, leather gloves, container of pepper spray, lighter
Ability- Focus-With the Use of his pentagon Jynmi can channel energy and create barriers of blue light. The barriers exists a set distance from him. Though, he can't move them independently, they'll move with him. There's no set level of damage One of his barriers can hold, but there are a few limitations. First, the larger the barrier, the greater amount of time he's holding it, or the more damage it takes, the harder it is for him to keep his focus, and maintain his barrier. |
8,493 | 232 | 34 | 893 | 1,258 | Tyler looked back, once, and immediately regretted it. It was following him. Why was it following him? Had he offended it? He did not stop running, plowing through the treeline into the woods proper.
He glanced over, and was surprised to see the ghost hand floating along beside his head carrying his bag. He reached out and grabbed it from the thing, then had a thought. He wasn't special. He wasn't even tasty. Why was this thing chasing him and not literally any of the other, bigger, better meals? Maybe it wasn't chaining him. Maybe it was the ghost.
"Shoo!" He shouted at it. "Get outta here! Go on, get. Leave!" The hand obeyed, falling back and disappearing through a tree, where he lost sight of it. Then he heard something whistling through the air, and he turned to his other side just in time to see a translucent tentacle whipping at his head. He screamed.
He didn't have to, however. The ghost hand, moving like a blur, descended from the treetops like the blade of a guillotine to chop the tentlacle down to the dirt before floating back up and regaining its place by his side. "Sorry! You hang around, I don't mind anymore!" He said, doubling his pace. | Real name: Tyler Bacon
Age: 29
Appearance: Tall, sort of out of shape Caucasian male with short brown hair. Built like someone who has only just recently started to show the effects of steady exorcise.
Personality: It is very rare to see Tyler Bacon truly happy, but on the other hand it's rare to see him truly angry. He mostly seems to exist in a state of perpetually perplexed melancholy, the strongest emotion he ever shows is annoyance. A very practically minded person whose sense of wonder seems to have shriveled up and died a long time ago, he's liable to be more impressed with someone starting a fire with a flint and steel than, say, obliterating and entire countryside with a concentrated blast of it. Generally stupid, having a very simple view of most all situations. Doesn't like to bother people with his problems.
History: Tyler is a traveler, though not by his own choice. A delivery man and furniture mover, he hit it off with a rich heiress named Stella Trombold while helping her move in to her new mansion. For the life of them their friends could not understand what she sees in him, but prevailing theory is that she enjoys his simplicity and the fact that he doesn't talk back much. Stella herself is a bit of an adventurer, and Tyler dutifully gets dragged along to the four corners of the Earth by her. He would much rather they be at home, doing something simple like watching television and while he's sure the bug and frogs and things are lovely if you like them, he would much rather have a sandwich. He tells her these things as often as they come up, but never actually finds it in his heart to refuse.
He is currently on another vacation right at this moment, Stella having given him a little free time to wonder about on his own.
Starting items: Small traveling bag, Guide to (Wherever he is before the first jump), three sandwiches, 2 bottled water, $650 cash allowance, small umbrella, cellphone.
Ability: Phantom Limb
A third hand that floats about independently of Tyler, controlled by his will. About as strong and dexterous as a normal human hand, but doesn't get tired and is much faster. Able to move freely through non-living things. Tyler always knows where the hand is. |
8,494 | 232 | 35 | 1,489 | 1,400 | Several pokemon, whom had been too slow to react towards the newcomer's appearance were no longer pokemon any more. At the most you could say was they were husks of their former selves. Their bodies were dried of everything so all that was left was the outer most layer of skin and some bones. With each one's hollowing something changed in the tentacle monster. NOt by much, but its bulbous body got bigger, and slightly darker. Its strange lumbering gate started picking up speed as if the blood gave it memories packed with instructions on navigating over land.
There was a high pitched keening that blasted out of the massive tentacle creature's body as what remained of its sliced limb pulled back in startled pain. For a moment it paused, and the color of its body changed to a dark maroonish yellow. Several more tentacles took up pursuit, flying towards the man and the hand like arrows shot from a Gatling gun.
"See I told you." The owner of the blue eyes stopped just outside the forest, looking in towards the chaos. "Oh." He said, shoulders slumping in defeat. "it wasn't this bad when I left."
Another figure, similiar in appearance but with eyes that glowed bright Green. "I'm sure. There'd be many more corpses." He nodded to the man. "I'll get things ready. You start with the evacuations."
The man nodded, and called through his hands. "Attention!" He said, with a voice that one wouldn't believe could exist in such a fragile looking form. "Everyone needs to get over here now!" He repeated the words in several languages, and then with various pokemon tongues before starting over from where he began. | Real name: James(Jimmy(Jynmi)) Martinez
AGe:24
Appearance: Before the jump, Jimmy was a tall, wide figured individual, a little chubby with some muscle showing through. His skin was tan, and his eyes and hair were both dark brown. Afterwards, he lost about a foot, and became much more wiry. His skin took on a pale color, and his hair was just a shade lighter than his flesh. His eyes underwent the most extreme change. The one on the left became maroon color, and the one on the right became a bright blue. Another change is a few of his scars, one on his back, one on his forearm, and one just below the temple have all disappeared without a trace.
Personality: Jimmy is rather quiet and unsure of himself. He doesn't do well in crowds and has some trouble with meeting new people. He always holds a part of himself back. Despite having limited experience with meeting people, he has a very strong sense of empathy and can detect what people are feeling. Despite being almost entirely submissive by nature, there is a hard part in him that will not yield, and that's whenever something doesn't hold up to standards of his own personal moral code.
History: Jynmi spent most of his early life at home, reading, writing, and wishing he was somewhere else doing something interesting. Then, as he grew older, he went to school part time, and worked part time. Afterwards, there was a small part of his life spent in semi-whintess protection after revealing the headquarters of a drug smuggling gang. By Semi-whiteness protection, I mean he moved into a motel on the other side of town.
Starting items: Pentagon Pendant, wind breaker Jacket, Wrist watch, Glasses, leather gloves, container of pepper spray, lighter
Ability- Focus-With the Use of his pentagon Jynmi can channel energy and create barriers of blue light. The barriers exists a set distance from him. Though, he can't move them independently, they'll move with him. There's no set level of damage One of his barriers can hold, but there are a few limitations. First, the larger the barrier, the greater amount of time he's holding it, or the more damage it takes, the harder it is for him to keep his focus, and maintain his barrier. |
8,495 | 232 | 36 | 2,628 | 9,853 | That... that was disturbing... whatever the big tentacled thing was, it had drained the Pokemon who hadn't gotten away, leaving them as nothing but dried out husks... Anno felt like she should have been more scared, but... but... she was a Precure! And they, well, they kind of beat up monsters way bigger than them all the time, right? As one of the tentacles shot towards her, she took a deep breath... and her foot snapped up, sweeping through the air to catch it. The tentacle was struck like it had been hit by a train and sent wildly off-course, smashing into a tree and sending it to the ground, splintering from the site of the tentacle's impact.
The currently-blonde girl could barely believe she had that kind of power... but that's what she got from being a Precure! Confidence born from being a magical girl who could punch out monsters currently surged through her smallish form. There was some new people calling to them, who seemed to have some idea of what was going on. Anno backed towards them, but she wasn't ready to flee just yet. Her mind was rapidly working, not only did she not know these guys but the thing could still attack her... and if it came any closer... well... well... she'd hit it REALLY hard!
It was kind of what Precures tended to do.
Aside from the love beams that made things explode and go back to normal. | Real name: Anno
Age: 21
Appearance: Brown hair, pale skin, blue eyes, red sweater, blue skirt
Personality: Shy and somewhat reclusive, Anno spends most of her time reading or on the computer. While she is a bit more likely to be somewhat open among friends, her nerves get to her easily and she sometimes suffers from anxiety. She does her best to try and work through this, but it can sometimes be rather difficult to do so. She is a fan of action and slice of life works, as well as comedies. She is also a fan of yuri. She likes cute things a great deal and is very, very much against seeing children hurt for any reason. Anno is a massive fan of the Nasuverse, Touhou, and a lot of other things that would take an unnecessarily large amount of space to list.
History: Anno's life is mostly uninteresting, she's mostly just a normal girl.
Starting items: WIP
Ability: WIP
Getting this up while I can, will finish it soon. ^^; |
8,496 | 232 | 37 | 1,180 | 1,981 | As he watched the Machamp flee, he looked back at the girl fighting it. "Nice work, I guess." He said, gently clutching his chest. He would need to get that wound checked out before it got infected, definitely. Suddenly though, the pokemon he was planning on launching an attack on, had started to flee. Some didn't make it far, as spears of some kind pierced them and drained them of their life. He scratched his head, and looked at where the weapons were coming from, and saw a horrifying tentacled beast, reminiscent of eldritch abominations. "Holy shit..." He mumbled.
Suddenly, an appendage shot forth, aimed for the girl he was trying to get to help. Before he could react, she pimp slapped the thing into a tree, and the monster wailed in pain, before the injured tentacle retreated, and more shot forth in a different direction. Then, his friend Jymni joined the mix, unfortunately not dragging Brownhair with him. He directed his attention to the knife he had brought back, a helpful tool. "Keep it, for now. You need a weapon." He commanded. Then responded to his question. "Yeah, we're fighting that thing." He decided, before preparing to shout at the top of his lungs in the most demanding voice he could muster. Before he could speak, a loud and cold voice sprung forth, telling them to leave. He ignored it. "SCREW THAT NOISE! JOIN ME AND DEFEAT THE HENTAI MONSTER!" He screamed, before dodging all the tentacles shot at him by hiding behind a tree. | **Real name:** Matthew
**Age:** 14
**Appearance:** (
**Personality:** Matt proclaims himself a natural-born leader. He is the person who tends to take charge in most situations, and is the quickest to start making commands. This is balanced out with the fact that he is really easy to aggravate. If he doesn't like you, he will generally make it clear, and then ask you to either change, or get as far away from him as possible. He also tries to act funny, making jokes about himself and others to hide his nihilistic self-loathing.
As for interests, he loves videogames ranging from Smash Bros. to Fire Emblem to Borderlands. Once he finds a good game (Or anything to obsess over, really) he will latch onto it immediately, and then leave it within a week or two. He also enjoys webcomics, and has an interest in comedy, listening to various standup routines and comedy shows.
**History:** When Matt was young, his parents divorced. This led to him, his mother, and his sister having to move a lot. This meant Matt never got to make many friends up until about the 6th grade, where they finally settled down, and his mother remarried. Once he had some friends, he realized he wasn't content. He wanted to leave, to escape, to leave the world he considered had no purpose.
**Starting items:**
- Survival Knife: Includes matches, fishing line with hook, a compass. thread with needle, two buttons.
- Smartphone device with charger.
- Nintendo 3DS with Fire Emblem: Awakening, and Super Smash Brothers for 3DS.
**Ability:** When Matt first warped, he found in his hand, a book. Inside this book was a single page. On this page there is text unreadable by all but him. When this text is read aloud, Matt can direct a lightning bolt at an enemy. The more points Matt invests in "Tomes" the more pages, and by extension spells, are added to the book. |
8,497 | 232 | 38 | 893 | 1,258 | Tyler didn't know whose voice that was, but they sounded very authoitatve and right now that was good enough for him. He immediately swerved toward the sound of the voice and began running in that direction. It probably saved his life, because right at that moment the bundle of tentacles that were on a coltion course to punch right through his chest found themselves ripping through the trunk of a large tree instead.
He heard the snaping crack behind him, and turned to look right as the tentacles ripped themselves from the trunk and the large old tree began to fall towards him. He ducked out of the path of the falling tree and doubled his efforts as the thing crashed to the ground beside him, a stray branch clipping his head as it went down. He stumbled, fell, rolled forward back to his feet in the same motion, and ran like a drunk the rest of the way with a bleeding gash in his head.
Despite that though, he made it. He made it to the people who sounded like they knew how to handle this. Maybe more wizards. He laughed to himself about this, promised himself that he was never ever coming back to New York, and collapsed on his face at their feet. | Real name: Tyler Bacon
Age: 29
Appearance: Tall, sort of out of shape Caucasian male with short brown hair. Built like someone who has only just recently started to show the effects of steady exorcise.
Personality: It is very rare to see Tyler Bacon truly happy, but on the other hand it's rare to see him truly angry. He mostly seems to exist in a state of perpetually perplexed melancholy, the strongest emotion he ever shows is annoyance. A very practically minded person whose sense of wonder seems to have shriveled up and died a long time ago, he's liable to be more impressed with someone starting a fire with a flint and steel than, say, obliterating and entire countryside with a concentrated blast of it. Generally stupid, having a very simple view of most all situations. Doesn't like to bother people with his problems.
History: Tyler is a traveler, though not by his own choice. A delivery man and furniture mover, he hit it off with a rich heiress named Stella Trombold while helping her move in to her new mansion. For the life of them their friends could not understand what she sees in him, but prevailing theory is that she enjoys his simplicity and the fact that he doesn't talk back much. Stella herself is a bit of an adventurer, and Tyler dutifully gets dragged along to the four corners of the Earth by her. He would much rather they be at home, doing something simple like watching television and while he's sure the bug and frogs and things are lovely if you like them, he would much rather have a sandwich. He tells her these things as often as they come up, but never actually finds it in his heart to refuse.
He is currently on another vacation right at this moment, Stella having given him a little free time to wonder about on his own.
Starting items: Small traveling bag, Guide to (Wherever he is before the first jump), three sandwiches, 2 bottled water, $650 cash allowance, small umbrella, cellphone.
Ability: Phantom Limb
A third hand that floats about independently of Tyler, controlled by his will. About as strong and dexterous as a normal human hand, but doesn't get tired and is much faster. Able to move freely through non-living things. Tyler always knows where the hand is. |
8,498 | 232 | 39 | 1,489 | 1,400 | They don't seem to be coming. The man with the blue eyes mumbled, letting his arms fall to his sides, fists clenched in agitation. "Why do these damn drifters need to always be heroes?" He shook his head and started calling again when a man with an ugly looking gash on his head fell to his feet. A disembodied limb floated above him looking for all the world like it belonged there. "Well at least this one came." The blue eyed man sighed. "Hey." He said, poking the bleeder with a steel toed booth. "Is there anyway you could get the others in your party over here, or there, or any other direction besides the ones that are currently being targeted by the chimera harvester's tentacles?"
The tentacles changed. Spearing, the preferred method of gathering new data wasn't going to work. This became obvious with the way the blonde one kicked aside one of the limbs. Proceeding to phase two. Several tentacles raised, and expanded becoming scoops which gathered up dozen of the pokemon husks, and enclosed them in a yellowish maroon gelatinous sphere. Soldiers were needed. There was a hiss, and several misshapen black figured emerged. There were seven in total, each a mockery of their previous pokemon forms. With an utter silence the creatures shot forward towards their prey.
"Why are they still over there?" The man with the green eyes called. He was several meters away, on his knees, with a pack on the ground, and strange equipment spread out. "I told you to get them over here."
"What do you think I'm doing!? Your old ears haven't given out on you, have they, because I was yelling loud enough to make it sixty feet with ease." The blue eye man shook his head and made an obscene gesture with his hands to let the Green eyed man know to shut up and get to work. Instead of wasting time with a reply the figure got back into work, combining parts into something that was starting to look like a cross between a satellite dish, a robotic crab, and a car bumper.
"We're going to fight?" Said Jynmi, certain he misheard things. "Really? But why not run?" He pointed at the men on the far end, where the pokemon were rushing too. "I mean it might not be safe there, seeing as the pokemon aren't stopping there, but at least the general direction seems better, don't you think?" Jynmi opened his mouth to complain more, but something big came at him. He didn't get a chance to recognize anything but for the complete blackness of its body, which along with the speed of the creature's impact, made picking out details impossible, before An invisible wall flared up out of nowhere, and the creature smashed into it, and the barrier, erecting at an odd angle, sending it up and over them in a high arc.
As Jynmi watched the mass of shadow sail over him, another of the mutations shot out from beneath the ground, intending on grabbing the man with the lightning book. While something a hideously shadowed mass sprung out of the trees by the blue girl, and hundreds of black vines moved in on her like homing missiles, intent on wrapping her up. | Real name: James(Jimmy(Jynmi)) Martinez
AGe:24
Appearance: Before the jump, Jimmy was a tall, wide figured individual, a little chubby with some muscle showing through. His skin was tan, and his eyes and hair were both dark brown. Afterwards, he lost about a foot, and became much more wiry. His skin took on a pale color, and his hair was just a shade lighter than his flesh. His eyes underwent the most extreme change. The one on the left became maroon color, and the one on the right became a bright blue. Another change is a few of his scars, one on his back, one on his forearm, and one just below the temple have all disappeared without a trace.
Personality: Jimmy is rather quiet and unsure of himself. He doesn't do well in crowds and has some trouble with meeting new people. He always holds a part of himself back. Despite having limited experience with meeting people, he has a very strong sense of empathy and can detect what people are feeling. Despite being almost entirely submissive by nature, there is a hard part in him that will not yield, and that's whenever something doesn't hold up to standards of his own personal moral code.
History: Jynmi spent most of his early life at home, reading, writing, and wishing he was somewhere else doing something interesting. Then, as he grew older, he went to school part time, and worked part time. Afterwards, there was a small part of his life spent in semi-whintess protection after revealing the headquarters of a drug smuggling gang. By Semi-whiteness protection, I mean he moved into a motel on the other side of town.
Starting items: Pentagon Pendant, wind breaker Jacket, Wrist watch, Glasses, leather gloves, container of pepper spray, lighter
Ability- Focus-With the Use of his pentagon Jynmi can channel energy and create barriers of blue light. The barriers exists a set distance from him. Though, he can't move them independently, they'll move with him. There's no set level of damage One of his barriers can hold, but there are a few limitations. First, the larger the barrier, the greater amount of time he's holding it, or the more damage it takes, the harder it is for him to keep his focus, and maintain his barrier. |
8,499 | 232 | 40 | 893 | 1,258 | Wha? Tyler responded, seemingly only comprehending the barest points of what than man had said through what was probably a concussion. His conscious mind might not have gotten anything, but his unconscious one did and it was the one that controlled the hand. So the hand shot off toward Matt like a bullet, looking to wrench that book from his hands and fly it back over toward these guys. | Real name: Tyler Bacon
Age: 29
Appearance: Tall, sort of out of shape Caucasian male with short brown hair. Built like someone who has only just recently started to show the effects of steady exorcise.
Personality: It is very rare to see Tyler Bacon truly happy, but on the other hand it's rare to see him truly angry. He mostly seems to exist in a state of perpetually perplexed melancholy, the strongest emotion he ever shows is annoyance. A very practically minded person whose sense of wonder seems to have shriveled up and died a long time ago, he's liable to be more impressed with someone starting a fire with a flint and steel than, say, obliterating and entire countryside with a concentrated blast of it. Generally stupid, having a very simple view of most all situations. Doesn't like to bother people with his problems.
History: Tyler is a traveler, though not by his own choice. A delivery man and furniture mover, he hit it off with a rich heiress named Stella Trombold while helping her move in to her new mansion. For the life of them their friends could not understand what she sees in him, but prevailing theory is that she enjoys his simplicity and the fact that he doesn't talk back much. Stella herself is a bit of an adventurer, and Tyler dutifully gets dragged along to the four corners of the Earth by her. He would much rather they be at home, doing something simple like watching television and while he's sure the bug and frogs and things are lovely if you like them, he would much rather have a sandwich. He tells her these things as often as they come up, but never actually finds it in his heart to refuse.
He is currently on another vacation right at this moment, Stella having given him a little free time to wonder about on his own.
Starting items: Small traveling bag, Guide to (Wherever he is before the first jump), three sandwiches, 2 bottled water, $650 cash allowance, small umbrella, cellphone.
Ability: Phantom Limb
A third hand that floats about independently of Tyler, controlled by his will. About as strong and dexterous as a normal human hand, but doesn't get tired and is much faster. Able to move freely through non-living things. Tyler always knows where the hand is. |
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