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<\|description\|>Dexter Kennedy The Captain Gender: Male Age: 28 Sexuality: Off Limits .3. Appearance: Dexter is tall with an athletic build. His light skin is riddled abstract tattoos, all down his back, neck, and arms. His intense steely-blue gave often intimidates the younger crew members. Personality: "Distant" would be a good word to sum him up. Dexter, although he adages his crew, has a hard time showing it. His serious expression rarely breaks, and even when it does it's only with a subtle, sly smile that is easy to misinterpret. The Leviathan and crew are his pride and joy, all that he claims to live for. He let's his shipmates do as they please, and normally lets the do all the robbing, plundering and fighting themselves. Although rare, he will occasionally talk to the members of his crew when they are having difficulties dealing with emotion, which is kind of odd seeing as it appears he has virtually none of his own. However cold and prickly he may seem from the outside, his desire is to make a positive change in the world; so, therefore, there must be a kind person in there, even if he hides it well. Weapon of Choice: For the most part? Whatever is handy. He keeps both a simple knife and flintlock pistol on his person, though he can easily adapt to any weapon he needs to "borrow". Other: N/A Revealed History: N/A Stats: Strength: 6 Dexterity: 5 Intelligence: 7 Social: 4 Crafting: 2 Fighting: 5</s> <\|message\|>Shiyami Eiji Shiyami Shiyami couldn't help but to mentally sigh as he stared out the triple-layered tempered glass in the captain's quarters. He glanced down at the table in front of him, with multiple papers scattered everywhere on it. There were written reports of all variety mixed in with what appeared to be multiple blueprints of different ships of the government fleet. The first and foremost on was the blueprint of the warship Sovereign, the one he was residing in. Towards the corner of the desk however, was a small, weathered envelope, containing two parchments. One was a rather childish drawing, of three people. The other, was a more well-done drawing, of the same three people. Looking at it, Shiyami couldn't help but to smile faintly. "I wonder what those two little rascals are up to?" Muttering these words to himself, he was reaching over to pick up the envelope, when a knock at his door interrupted him. Quickly pocketing it, she called out, "Enter." A soldier came in, clicked his heels, and saluted. "The first mate requests your presence on the bridge, sir!". Shiyami sighed aloud this time, before rubbing the back of his neck tiredly. "There's no need to call me sir." un-energetically speaking these words that sounds like they have been spoken once to often, Shiyami stood up, before walking towards the bridge. Walking down the corridor, Shiyami kept his eyes shifting, making sure to keep every detail memorized. However, no matter how times he seen it, he still felt amazed that this metal behemoth of an airship actually flew. Thing should be heavy as hell. When he arrived, the crew onboard all saluted, with the commander calling out, "Officer on deck!". "At ease that shit..." Annoyed, Shiyami muttered the usual lines, with the response of, "I see you still dislike formalities." coming from the right. Glancing over, his eyes stopping at his observer, the merc shrugged. "Formalities are a tool to be used only when required." Tossing back his words, he walked up, before looking at the map, before checking the ship's status report. "Alright, we need to refuel and resupply the Sovereign. Take us to The Crumbling Keep." Calling out his order, the Sovereign started to move, slowly getting up to speed.</s> <\|message\|>Angelo Ortega (but everyone just calls him Angel) Angelo sighed as he hung out in the corner listening to the captain explain the plan of their next raid and when he said that their was no point in being sneaky Angelo had to point out something. "for future reference its not that im not sneaky its that my way usually leaves a trail of bodies" Angelo explained to the captain since Angelo used claws Angelo usual way of killing while unseen meant to literally tear out someone's throat. it was easy with the sharpness of his claws and the fact that when he did they couldn't scream and died in a matter of seconds but because of that method their was a lot of blood and bodies and by the time Angelo gets halfway inside somewhere the alarm sounds. "as far as im concerned to what you feel is right captain ill kill either way" Angelo said simply glad he had already taken a shower before coming here, his claws usually end up smelling for hours if he doesn't shower before putting them on...</s> <\|message\|>Winston Hollands Winston looked along the various charts that they have laid out. His eyes followed the charts. He remained silent since they left the docks, but his silence was broken by his plan. "We can't do a full scale assault, but we can't do a stealth mission with everyone. There are a few... ruffians among us," he said, his eyes shifting to Angelo "but I digress. Winter, Prince, Taran, and I to sneak in, and check to see if they have any super secret tide-turning weapon. We disable that, and everyone else enters. They're going to see our huge ass mothafuckin' ship a mile off, so we need a large scale fight to happen while we sneak in." Winston had said the description of the ship jokingly, but in a poor impression of the captain. "But it will most likely damage the ship. If we don't want to damage our huge ass mothafuckin' ship, we need to park out on a nearby island, and then drift on boats onto the other island. Which is pretty dangerous, if you ask me." He said, still carrying the joke with him.</s> <\|message\|>Aubrey "Captain, what exactly are we after?" Dexter's eyes rested on Winter for a moment. He tuned Jax out, who seemed to be having some sort of ecliptic seizure, or perhaps was just laughing at something. He wasn't sure what was so funny. He pulled out a blueprint that was covered by some other papers and laid it on top. One finger tapped the paper as he spoke, his mind seemingly elsewhere. "This single creation, one that is about the size of small bookshelf, has more firepower then our ship." He paused again, letting his words sink it. He could tell some of his crew were preoccupied with something else, but he was not curious in the least. Perhaps at a different time, he would have looked more into it and discovered what the issue was, but at the moment he was simply to focused on the task at hand to care. "I don't know if we will be able to use these things." He said, "Our understanding of the technologies used are just not enough. However, we cannot allow something with this much power to be used to the military's advantage. Should they get these things up and running, and find a way to reproduce them, we wouldn't have a chance. If nothing else, we need to destroy them." Winston spoke up, and the corner of Dexter's mouth twitched when he repeated the phrase 'huge ass mothafunkin' ship' several times. Ah, that's what was so funny. "Yes, actually, that's exactly what I was thinking, Winston. Thank you. We have three paddle boats that are currently functional. Each one can hold about four people, plus perhaps an Aubrey." Aubrey crossed his arms and snorted in distaste, not appreciating the captain's dry sense of humor. Dexter continued, "So, Winston, Winter, Prince and Taran will take one and be our stealth team. Everyone else will create a diversion. Any more questions?"</s> <\|message\|>Jax Morinth Jax She couldn't stop laughing hearing Winston say the words over and over several times. Were they trying to make her pass out from lack of Oxygen? Maybe so. "Ahhaha, hahhh" Jax wiped tears from her eyes and giggled a little bit, trying to shake off the laughing fit. Unfortunately, due to her loud, obnoxious laughter, she hadn't heard most of what the others had said, except when the captain said something about Aubrey. Her gazed turned to Aubrey who crossed his arms and pouted a little. She felt bad for him always being made fun of for his size and wanted to speak up but knew better to speak against the captain, that was treachery. "Anymore questions?" The captain asked. Jax turned her head to look at the captain. "Cap'n what do you mean by diversion? I thought I heard Winny say something about entering after the stealth team... or did you want us to create a diversion after they entered? Or before" Jax scratched her head in confusion, trying to make sense of the few things that she had heard and the things the captain had said. "I don't get it..."</s> <\|message\|>Prince [PRINCE & KAI] Prince sighed as he saw the plans layed out around the table. He wasn't really one for plans but he had to listen to the captain. He listened intently, nudging Kai beside him who was in his own world. 'Stealth team?' He thought, silently chuckling to himself. 'Right.' He was surprised they put him in stealth, considering the amount of trouble he causes on a daily basis. "Large machines, high security and possibly getting killed?" Prince asked. "Sounds like my kind of place," he grinned. Kai huffed, rolling his eyes. "You better not get yourself killed," he said, crossing his arms. Kai grinned, wrapping an arm around Kai. "Of course I won't," Prince grinned.</s> <\|message\|>Winter Winter Winter's attention was drawn to Winston as he started fleshing out a plan to get in and get out with as few complications as possible. It seemed plausible… but a childish part of her begged for an alternative where she could more actively avoid Taran. (She also wanted to raise an eyebrow at the implication there was anything discreet about Prince or Taran, but she supposed everything was relative when it came to this crew.) Winter quashed that part immediately, frustration growing. This was ridiculous. All he'd done was give her a stolen necklace. She shouldn't have been avoiding him or getting so worked up about a silly trinket when it probably didn't even mean anything. Besides, it was Taran. Taran who was never serious about anything and was likely trying to bribe her so she wouldn't poison his next meal. Against her better judgement, she risked a glance over at the crew mate in question. It was the way he'd looked at her when he'd done it though. How his hand had lingered on hers for just a moment too long… Winter was absolutely not blushing. She didn't blush. She snapped her eyes over to Jax when the girl spoke. Thankful for something else to think about, Winter contemplated what she said. "Diversions tend to work best when done before the criminal act," she said. She was relieved to find her voice steady when she talked. "The four of us will go in, and the rest will stay out, doing what they do best." The corner of Winter's mouth quirked up as she looked at Jax. The young mechanic (and a good portion of the crew) would certainly enjoy the chance to wreak some havoc. "If I'm understanding correctly?" She directed this at the captain, silently asking for clarification.</s> <\|message\|>Taran Greene Taran felt his cheeks flush red. Alone...in a small boat...with Winter? The very person he had spent all day and night trying to avoid? Granted Prince and Winston would be there as well, but still. He was debating asking what level of injured would excused one from the mission. Was a broken leg enough? Or would one still be expected to perform? He heard Winter speak and he half expected Winter to disagree with the two of them being on the same team, but it never came. Perhaps he was getting too worked up, maybe she just thought of the neckless as a gift from a friend...which they were...right? Or maybe she didn't mind him...maybe she wanted them to be...in the boat...together...with Prince and Winston. Despite the flaw in his logic, the thought did make him perk up slightly. "Alright, fine, drop me into certain death guys, what is it? Tuesday already?" Said Taran, finally having processed enough of the conversation to have something to say about it. "But, in all serouseness Cap'in, you can count on me and Prince to save the day, amIright? Up top!" He held out his hand to the captain, expecting a high five with a grin on his face. When all he got was a glare, he kept the grin going "Well, that is alright, self five it is," He brought his hands together in front of his face creating a loud clapping sound. Taran then brought his hands down to his lap, looking very pleased with himself.</s>	<\|message\|>Dexter Kennedy Dexter sighed. For whatever reason, explaining this whole ordeal to them seemed to be way too much work. "The diversion team will move in at the same time as the stealth group. Although it would be nice if we could send the stealth team in to... disable the security, I highly doubt that would be successful. If we draw the attention to one side of the building we're after, say here-" his finger tapped a spot on the map, '-then the guards will be forced to gather there, making it easier for the smaller team to get inside." "Once you're in, you will need to be quick. Find wherever they keep all the equipment. If you can't take it with you, break it. There are going to be several scientists and mechanics there, and some of them may be actively working. A large majority of these people are working for the government against their own free will. As much as I would like to get all of them out of there, it's simply too much of an added risk. However, try to avoid getting them killed, if you can." Taran seemed excited about something, and held up his hand for a high-five. Dexter simply looked at him, then the boy clapped his hands together and sat back down, looking accomplished. "Okay, then. If there are no more questions, you're free to go." He checked the watch on his wrist. "You have about two and a half hours."</s>
<\|description\|>Shiyami Eiji Shiyami's Voice Appearance: (Another Image) Nicknames/Titles: Harbinger, Reaper, Immortal Vampire Gender: Male Age: 21 Sexuality: Heterosexual Personality: If you were to meet Shiyami on a normal day, you would not be able to discern anything about him. He is kind, with a chivalrous attitude, and has a way with words. Not a single piece of information would be leaked. You can't tell whether he's nervous, impatient, or even bored! However, take your eyes off him in a crowd, and you will never find him again, easily blending in by acting similar to the locals. However, when he is dealing with his contracts, he would do it without remorse, and with brutal efficiency. His skills, combined with his accumulated experience in his occupation, has allowed for some ridiculous tricks and aces hidden. For one, he weapons. Versatile, effective in many situations, and easily hidden and carried. Another would be his combat capabilities. Those lucky enough to witness his battles and live, mention reloading all twelve rounds by throwing rounds into the air, emptying the revolvers, and swinging them out, collecting the airborne paper cartridges in the now empty chambers, before closing it up, all in a short time span. Another mentions his opponent's bullets being shot right out of the air, and any bullet that haven't been deflected by another bullet, is diverted by blade. Even moreso, is that he doesn't always use his own weapons. Half the time he utilizes his opponents weapons. He seems to also specialize in group combat. Meaning in a 1v10, he, as the lone fighter, has the advantage over the ten. There is one thing very, very, very dangerous regarding him. If it ever so happens that someone manages to draw blood, or harm him...well.......good luck. There has been only one witness report. Every single person within the vicinity was slaughtered, with utter brutality, as some in extremely horrifying and inhumane methods. Weapon of Choice: Dual Apache Revolvers. Specially designed, and completely custom made of a weapon, they are one reason why Shiyami is feared. Unafraid to let loose with heavy punches, before utilizing the revolver's six round chamber to its fullest. Even during more stealthier operations, he can casually go by his target, suddenly slice through the artery at the neck, and be on his way while his victim is thrashing on the ground drowning in their own blood. However, one thing should be noted is that Shiyami is extremely proficient with a multitude of weapons. He is known for disarming his opponent, before using their own weapon against them. Other: Apache revolvers are an actual thing. The link is to wikipedia(and image). It really fired black powder rounds. The nickname 'Immortal Vampire' refers to being utterly drenched in blood, with dismembered corpses in the surroundings. Stats: Strength: 5 Dexterity: 5 Intelligence: 5 Social: 4 Crafting: 1 Fighting: 9</s> <\|message\|>Winter Winter Winter was content as she ate, listening to the sounds of her crew. Meals were the one time no one was rambling on, and yet they still managed to cause a ruckus with all their slurping and munching. Winter just smiled to herself. Taran finished his meal earlier than usual and started running his mouth about something or other. Winter didn't pay it any mind though. At least Taran was cleaning up after himself this time. Then he turned back to the group and she saw him pull out a necklace. It was a delicate thing with a silver chain meant to look like tree branches and bronze flowers set in different intervals. It was beautiful. But then Taran walked over to Winter's side and picked up her hand to gently curl her fingers around it. The cold bite of the metal was a hard contrast with the warmth of his hand, seeping into her own. She was frozen as Taran shifted his weight, clearly awkward. He made some poor excuse to leave and fled the room. Winter's mind was blank save for a long string of curses in every language she knew. She jumped when the sounds of Winston enter the room and her mind snapped back to reality. Which meant she was thinking again. Winter felt her skin begin to heat and suddenly all she wanted was to get away. "Clean up when you're done," she told the others in clipped tones. At the same time she pushed herself up, her chair scraping along the floor. Winter walked quickly out the door, not looking at anyone. She didn't slow her pace until she reached her room, the door slamming shut behind her. The entire time, the necklace she'd thought was beautiful only a few moments before lay heavy in her hand.</s> <\|message\|>Aubrey It had been roughly 32 hours since the Leviathan had departed from Ballard. It was a relief to have that place behind them. Dexter hoped they wouldn't have to dock there again, because the whole place made him twitch. He liked things neat, clean, orderly... and Ballard was the exact opposite of all those things. Although that kind of place was common, he was very careful to stay on the ship when they visited those types of places. Now he sat around the mapping table with his crew. It was a little before noon, after the crew had cleaned up from breakfast and everyone gathered in the navigation room, where most of their plans were discussed. The sat around the circular table, everyone facing inwards to make it easier to converse. Dexter spread his charts in front of his crew, letting them examine them on their own. The crew looked well-fed, and some of them had even taken the time to bathe. With the exception of Aubrey, who Dexter noticed was wearing a bandage on his neck, everyone appeared to be in good health. When everyone had taken their seat, Dexter spoke. "In about three hours, we will be arriving at the location of our next raid." He said, "It's a remote island, and I only heard of it through a special connection. Gathering info on it has proven difficult, so there is a lot we might not have on the place." He gestured to the papers on the table. "This is everything I have. Although the name of the place isn't officially documented, it had been referred to as The Crumbling Keep." Aubrey opened his mouth like he was about to speak, but Dexter cut him off by raising a hand. "No, Aubrey, I don't know why they call it that." The boy pouted and sat back, and Dexter continued. "We can expect high security. This place is meant to hold some very advanced... inventions. Large, robotic weapons are housed there, though it's hard to say if they are just being stored or if they are active and being put to use. Either way, this is going to be a tough one. We will not only be worrying about the possibility of these machines coming after us, but there is also a large amount of human guards. Ideally, we would get in without being noticed, take a few things, and then get out. However, you have all proven over and over that you are not good at keeping things low-key. That, and the added problem of that we have a huge ass mothafuckin' ship trying to sneak up on a small island, there is about a 90% chance of a confrontation." He paused to scan the faces of his comrades, judging their reactions thus far.</s> <\|message\|>Jax Morinth Jax She had spent the last day or so working on enhancing her eye piece so it could read heat signatures. But for some reason she just couldn't get it to work and it was terribly frustrating. However, she refused to give up and kept trying. Jax took a deep breath, her hat was off, her hair a mess and her arms and face covered in sweat and grime from working on different things. "I need to bathe. badly, I smell like a military dog" Te pirate took off toward the lavatory and stripped, setting her nice gloves aside carefully to get in the tub she had filled prior to removing all her clothes. It wasn't necessarily warm water, but it wasn't freezing either, she and a few other mechanics on the ship had designed a system to make it so the water wasn't icy cold when you had to wash off. Once she was finished, dried off and put her clothes back on, she was notified that the captain had called a meeting... and she was late for it. Crap, why me? Not only had she missed breakfast that morning, but she wasted time bathing and now had to go face the captain, after being late for the meeting. Jax ran to where she knew everyone would be and crept in and took her place beside Aubrey who she smiled at and started to listen to what the captain had to say. Curiously she examined the charts and maps the captain had laid out on the table, what the heck were the charts for? Then he mentioned their raid in about 3 hours in a place called The Crumbling Keep and she knew it would be the perfect place to test her Hand Cannon. She also couldn't wait to take a lot at the "advanced" machinery that the place supposedly held. Once he was finished, Jax broke out into laughter over the fact that he had said huge as mothafuckin' ship, that didn't seem like something her captain would say, it didn't match his usual tone or expressions at all.</s> <\|message\|>Winter Winter Winter was completely focused on the captain's explanation. Or at least, that's how she looked on the outside. In reality she was trying very hard to look anywhere but at Taran. She'd holed herself up in her room for the remainder of the previous evening, only leaving this morning to make the crew breakfast. As soon as that was done, she left the food in the kitchen for the others to find, instead of waiting for them to arrive as she normally would. It was cowardly but Winter honestly had no idea what to do with this situation. Taran… he… Winter tightened her fists behind her back, nails nearly cutting into her palms. The necklace was hidden in her desk drawer, and her mind kept on wandering back to it. The captain stopped talking and it took a moment for Winter's attention to snap back to reality. The raid. Weapons. High security. She contemplated the situation as all of his words finally registered. "Captain," she started, "what exactly are we after?" It must've been something of exceptional value for him to risk such security.</s> <\|message\|>Taran Greene Winter and Taran probably would have had a better time of avoiding each other if they hadn't tried to avoid each other in the same way. His arms still ached from the half hour in which he hid under one of the tables while Winter cooked breakfast. Usually, he'd send one of the others in to do a look out before he would enter the kitchen, before denying that that was what he was doing. But, on that morning, Taran thought he was up early enough that he wouldn't risk seeing the girl. He was wrong. When he dared enter the hallway, he'd usually end up climbing something because he thought it was Winter coming around the corner, usually it wasn't. He spent the last thirty-two hours kicking himself. Why did he feel the urge to give her that stupid necklace? No only was it the most valuable piece of jewelry that he took that night, but it made things weird. He glanced over at Winter, who was almost pointedly not looking at him. It was dumb, and he wondered if the problem could be fixed by simply asking for it back? Or would that make it worse? 'She isn't that great anyway' he thought to himself ' With her face, and her hair that always smells nice and her eyes that --' he thought was cut off as she spoke and he promptly looked at the Captain, his face flushing slightly having zero idea about what the conversation had been about up til this point. He'd just have to ask Aubrey before they got there... The sound of a meeting was what drew her. After watching the 'Pirates' she decided that she should probably make herself known, help where she could, and hopefully keep them from killing her. Both straight out and by their own incompetence. Kara Saun situated herself in a vent with a clear line of sight towards the man who must have been the captain. If she was being fair, he didn't look nearly old enough, but...on the other hand, this Peter Pan man seemed to have a whole ship of lost little children.</s>	<\|message\|>Shiyami Eiji Shiyami Shiyami couldn't help but to mentally sigh as he stared out the triple-layered tempered glass in the captain's quarters. He glanced down at the table in front of him, with multiple papers scattered everywhere on it. There were written reports of all variety mixed in with what appeared to be multiple blueprints of different ships of the government fleet. The first and foremost on was the blueprint of the warship Sovereign, the one he was residing in. Towards the corner of the desk however, was a small, weathered envelope, containing two parchments. One was a rather childish drawing, of three people. The other, was a more well-done drawing, of the same three people. Looking at it, Shiyami couldn't help but to smile faintly. "I wonder what those two little rascals are up to?" Muttering these words to himself, he was reaching over to pick up the envelope, when a knock at his door interrupted him. Quickly pocketing it, she called out, "Enter." A soldier came in, clicked his heels, and saluted. "The first mate requests your presence on the bridge, sir!". Shiyami sighed aloud this time, before rubbing the back of his neck tiredly. "There's no need to call me sir." un-energetically speaking these words that sounds like they have been spoken once to often, Shiyami stood up, before walking towards the bridge. Walking down the corridor, Shiyami kept his eyes shifting, making sure to keep every detail memorized. However, no matter how times he seen it, he still felt amazed that this metal behemoth of an airship actually flew. Thing should be heavy as hell. When he arrived, the crew onboard all saluted, with the commander calling out, "Officer on deck!". "At ease that shit..." Annoyed, Shiyami muttered the usual lines, with the response of, "I see you still dislike formalities." coming from the right. Glancing over, his eyes stopping at his observer, the merc shrugged. "Formalities are a tool to be used only when required." Tossing back his words, he walked up, before looking at the map, before checking the ship's status report. "Alright, we need to refuel and resupply the Sovereign. Take us to The Crumbling Keep." Calling out his order, the Sovereign started to move, slowly getting up to speed.</s>
<\|description\|>Kirstie D. Emeri 'The King of Pirates? That has such an ugly ring to it.... No, I am going to be the Queen of Pirates!' Gender: Female Nicknames/Aliases: Emi, by her family and others Epithet: N/A Age: 18 Bounty: 0 Hometown: West Blue, in a little island called Quintana. Pirate Crew: Now recruiting! Role: Captain. Abilities & Skills: She is nimble and has a great deal of stamina, but as far as physical abilities go, that's pretty much the only thing she's capable at. Her punches are like those of a simple woman, even so, she has become adept in her own martial art that mostly uses her speed, and her opponent's strength, to her advantage. She isn't exactly imposing as a captain, however, once she gets serious, she can be as commanding or imposing as needed be. She also uses the powers of her Devil Fruit to her advantage. Name: Oto oto no Mi Type: Logia Effects: It allows the user to transform into, manipulate and generate sound waves. The user can also 'ride' the sound waves. It also makes her intangible to anyone that cannot use Haki. Techniques: * Oto Dash: This allows her to run at sonic speeds. * Transformation: She is able to turn into sound waves and move around like that, however, the downside of this is that she cannot attack * Oto Strike: Charging one of her body parts with the speed of sound, she is able to strike people at sonic speed and simulate superstrength. * Oto Frequency: She is able to change the sound frequency of whatever is in her surroundings. * Oto Wave: Launching super thick sound waves towards an opponent, she is able to send them away and cause huge damage. * Oto Boom!: Making sound waves compress and the explode, she is able to disable any opponent in her near vicinity. This, however, also affects the people on her side as well as herself. Weaknesses: Depending on where she is, she is more or less fast, as well as not being able to bounce sound off walls. Her ears are especially sensible, and making some kind of sound that would disrupt her own sound waves will enable anyone to hit her. Anything that causes sound can also hurt her, as well as wind. Personality: A brat and a definite spoiled girl, Emeri is a girl that does nothing but follow her own whims. That said, she has an incredible sense of camaraderie, and she is the kind to turn the whims of her companions into her own whims. This great sense of camaraderie will make her go to stupid lengths for those she calls her friends, but even then, she knows full well just how important things can be at a given time, and even then, it would seem she does not fully put in all of her seriousness in the line to show her opponent that she isn't playing around. There are only few times in where she can actually show just how serious she is, and those times are when the lives of others are in the line, as long as she knows them personally of course. She holds a believe that a pirate should be cruel and detestable and as such, she acts like that always while on top of her ship. She will try and give orders in a 'serious' tone that would seem is actually her usual joking around, as well as make decisions that would actually be fitting for a heartless pirate captain. She also has an exaggerated laugh that puts emphasis in the fact that she is trying to be evil. Biography: Daughter of the Warlord of the Sea, Kirstie D. Alexei, the Navy keeps tabs on her for that same heritage. The fact that he behaves and even talks like a high class lady, though, is something unknown to most people, as well as how she learned how to fight so well and seemingly have no fear of dying. She isn't the type to keep secrets, but she isn't the type to be just spouting her life story to just anyone who appears in front of her. She'll tell just about anyone about it once they ask, though. Theme Song: Explicit Languge! Other: She has a pair of dial headphones she usually carries around with her at all times. The design on them was especilly made for her by some skilled artisan. They seem to be a gift from her father after he went to a Sky Island and got them.</s> <\|message\|>Worches The old man sat by the window, chugging a tankard of something reeking of ocean water and booze. Lovely, lovely grog. Rather than brooding in the corner like some childish adventure hero, he was laughing and singing with a few of the other old salts who'd found their way here by the window. The bounty of that table would have been enough to send most marines running for their money. The scene from the corner-skulking man and the girl drew a new batch of laughter. "Looks like he's yer knight in shinin' armor, lassie! Comin' to the rescue of a little girl! Aye, so big and brave, startin' barfights over a girl insulting a man!" Another long chug, he continued laughing at the ongoing dramatacism. "Tip yer hat and bend yer knee, laddie! Let her know you'll kill these men who've said barely three words ta ya to protect her from the consequences of her actions! GWAAAAAHAHA!"</s> <\|message\|>Kirstie D. Emeri Emeri was about to do something about the rude customers herself when another guy came and started cutting people up. Yeah, an skilled swordsman no doubt, but it still seemed... wrong to interfere in a fight just because and like that. The guy seemed to think that Emeri couldn't take care of herself. And then there was the old guy in the bar that made the girl blush like crazy. Yeah, she needed no knight in shining armor. She was her OWN knight in shining armor. "Huh... I see, I see. So, you think I need someone saving me? Don't make me laugh!" Disappearing in a blur, Emeri advanced forward, making some of the civilians admire in awe her stunning speed. "Oto Dash!" Emeri said, after getting herself in front of one of the goons wiht a wide smirk in her face. "You guys lack so much delicacy. You don't deserve to be treated nicely." The girl said, before punching the first guy at super sonic speed and throwing him against the wall, effectively making him dig into it and leave his sillhoute there. And then, before anymore of them could even react to what she had done, she threw herself to the ground and supported herself on the ground, before using her legs at super sonic speed yet again and kicking two of the other goons standing behind her. They also flew quite some distance, but this time, one crashed against a table and broke it and the other against a chair, also breaking it. With that done, the girl spun around still supporting herself on the ground and then finally brought her legs down to ground level. Running a hand by her hair, Emeri decided to jump over a table and look down on all of the idiots. "Now, how about you all just calm down a bit. It is not like you stand a chance against the Queen of Pirates right here." With that said, every civilian in the bar seemed to be a bit shocked at her sudden statement.... Before breaking into a fit of laughter that filled the bar. Things like 'Did you hear this idiot?', 'She can't really be thinking she can become the King of Pirates, 'Not with so many dangerous rookies lulling around!' Yes, all of them were pretty insulting. Emeri's face became red as a tomato the moment they started laughing. "Heh, even if you laugh right now, soon enough, you'll be begging in your knees once you see I am really the Pirate Queen!" Emeri says back to them, before turning to the swordsman. "And you! Why did you have to interfere like that? Didn't you see I had the situation under control?" Calming herself down, she finally looks back at Ryuhei with a smile in her face. "Or what, would you like to go at it with me?"</s> <\|message\|>Originally born as 'Ryūhei Sasagara', his last name has been discarded. Hm...this was surprising. And he her thought that he had to save some little damsel in distress. Ryuhei had simply watched with a raised eyebrow and a growing smirk as the girl seemed to blur forward at a speed that his sharp eyes easily matched, kicking a goon before kicking another two, breaking quite a bit of furniture in the old tavern. An old man at the back seemed to guffaw about something or another, talking about Ryuhei preparing to kill these men for no reason; which only made his smirk grow into a grin. Just as he was about to laugh at the old timer and say some really hurtful words, he was cut off by the girl leaping onto the table and declaring her future as the 'Pirate Queen'. Amongst the other goons and civilians, Ryuhei merely watched, his grin disappearing into his normal frown when she turned her attention to him. Did he want to have a go at her? A quick glance over her form showed him that no, he didn't want to have a go at her. There was no fear in the statement; he didn't want to fight her...because disappointing fights were, well, disappointing. She wouldn't further his goal of becoming the world's greatest swordsman...she most-likely had no skills as a swordsman, and although she took care of herself, she didn't have the physique of a physically astounding warrior, either. She was probably one of the people who relied on their Devil Fruits to save their day...a pity, really. However...he was in a fired-up move, and had been really looking forward to fighting the goons all around him. Maybe...No. He wouldn't raise a sword against someone weaker, if there was no fun in it. No challenge. "Not worth it." He stated dismissively, waving one hand. His golden eyes peered deeply at her form. "What are you...twelve? Fifteen? Ten?" Although it was hard to tell with his cold, deep voice, there was an ounce of honest curiosity. Obviously, the swordsman was incredibly lost when it came to knowing someone's age.</s> <\|message\|>Worches "OH! OH! NOW THEY LACK DELICACY, SAYS THE GIRL TOSSIN' EM THROUGH WALLS!" He went to take another swig of grog, before spewing it out at the mention of the phrase "queen of the pirates" and continuing to laugh his ass off. "GWAAAAAHAHAHA! LASSIE, PIRATES DON'T BOW TO NO KING OR QUEEN IN THIS AGE! AND CERTAINLY NOT ONE THAT'S SO COWARDLY THEY NEED A DEVIL FRUIT TO SURVIVE IN THE DRUNKEN DEMON!" The man stood up, shaking his head. His laughter died down as he grabbed the full bottle of alcohol in one hand, and a baseball bat in the other. He slung the bat over his shoulder before turning a hateful glare, full of the disappointment of a man seeing everything wrong with the new generation infesting the livelihood he held so dear, to the self-proclaimed pirate queen. "Aaaaah, piracy's gone downhill since my day it seems. All you brats runnin' about, talkin' about KING OF THE PIRATES this and I'M SO COOL I HAVE A MAGIC BANANA that. In my day, ye got by on yer wits, yer muscle, and yer reputation. But it looks like sellin' yer pirate's soul to the devil and forsakin' the sea's embrace fer power is enough to make some brats these days think they're hot shit. Thinks that lets them call themselves a pirate. In my day?" In the blink of an eye, a fork flew over to the wall, quivering over an old wanted poster. Strikeout Worches, a bounty of 54,000,000- For piracy, sinking a marine vessel, burglarizing a Marine Captain's house, the theft of cargo totaling 30,000 tons, and shaving a Marine Captain's prize showdog. The pirate adjusted his hat and headed for the door. "In my day ye had to WORK to be worthy of sayin' that."</s>	<\|message\|>Kirstie D. Emeri Both guys seemed to be hugely understimating her. Devil Fruit or not, Emeri was still a damn fine pirate!..... probably. Even so, the comment from the swordsman pissed her off a bit. How could someone just not see that she was already eighteen?! "What was that!? Can't you see I am 18, you idiotic monkey!" Yeah, she was losing her cool. The guy didn't want to fight her and instead tried insulting her. Yeah, she should play it smooth here. She turned to the swordsman yet again, making her hair move around elgantly with her own elegant moves. "But even then, I cannot blame you for being scared of me. You may need swords, but I don't need such things. My, if it weren't because I ate a Devil Fruit by accident, I could still be able to drag you around the ground as it is proper for someone of YOUR class." Emeri jumped off the table. She was now full and out of here. Of course, she couldn't just let the comments of the old timer slide. He was part of the past age, and certainly a big asset for her in coming fights. She approached him with a smile. Even if he was saying all of those things and whatnot about devil fruits, he was certainly someone with some experience in the seas all ready. Perfect, just what Emeri needed. With another smirk, and pointing at him Emeri said what she needed to say. "You are a a real pain in anyone's bottom, old man. I like you. Even if you couldn't get a Devil Fruit in your time, I'm sure you are still real powerful. Why don't you become part of my crew?" She smiled at him. Of course, the bandits wouldn't just stay down while she had a talk with the old timer. Once the guy swinged his sword down to get her, Emeri decided to not let it go through her and instead use the guy's momentum against him. She avoided the slashing motion of the guy's sword, moved into the inside of the guy's guard and then punched him right on his stomach. It was a subtle move that still damaged the guy badly, making him fall to his knees. "W-What? How? She didn't even use her Devil Fruit powers....?" "Hehe, good enough right?" She turned to the old man. "Anyhow, I'm off to steal some boat to get to the next island. I need to get to the Grand Line as soon as possible. I need someone seasoned like you helping me out. You DO wish to see the seas one more time before dying right?" Emeri arrogantly smirked at him. She also turned to the swordsman and glared at him a bit, before smiling. She was trying to provoke him, in one way or the other. She would also like to have someone like that in her crew, someone aside from her that could fight. Just, she may need to educate the little monkey. "And the monkey swordsman over there.... Well, just come too. It'll be fun."</s>
<\|description\|>Originally born as 'Ryūhei Sasagara', his last name has been discarded. Appearance: Ryūhei is a relatively tall young man, standing at around 5 feet 11, or 6 feet exactly. His build is muscular and defined, but rather than the bulky, brute thickness that you would see in a lot of other pirates, Ryūhei's physique has more of a lean, streamlined build that boasts tightly-packed, explosive strength and speed. His hair is rather spiky and shaggy, soft locks naturally framing his face, while more locks breezes in the sky, spiked up. He has a pony-tail on the back, leading even more thick locks of hair down to around shoulder to shoulder-blade width. The hair itself is naturally white, going rather well with his dark golden eyes. Gender: Male Nicknames/Aliases: N/A Epithet: To be developed. Age: 19 Bounty: To be developed. Hometown: South Blue - A coastal island that went by the name 'Huroko's Nest'. Pirate Crew: ~ Role: Swordsman/Combat Specialist Abilities: ;; Swordsman's Spirit - Ryūhei has no Devil Fruit, but makes this up with pure strength, speed, agility, reflexes, and grit. His taut, muscular form holds immense power, that much is obvious. He can leap wide, considerable distances, slam holes through boulders with one punch or slice completely through with one swing, run for hours before getting fatigued, move at high speeds, and, with his determination and will, fight for however long it takes for either him or his opponent to die...even if it goes past his body's limits. Even so, he may become unconscious for days or weeks afterwards. The things he can do could seem inhuman, even for Devil Fruit Users - people who hold inhuman power themselves. ;; Swordsman's Skill - Ryūhei's plan for the future is to become the world's greatest swordsman, and already, he is showing steadfast resolve and untouchable potential. A prodigy in the arts of two swords, Ryūhei is an extremely skilled combatant, far on his way to perfecting his personally created style - Nireisu, or the Two Blade Style. His style allows him to excel fantastically in close-combat, while also holding artillery-like techniques for necessity's sake. One of the few men with the ability of Hakairyoku, Ryūhei can channel his own life-energy into his blades, or his body, increasing his already exceptional physical abilities and skills, although he is still rather...'ignorant' to this ability, and will learn more of it in the future. His techniques with Nireisu are named, for the sake of concentration and efficiency, and will be exposed IC. Ryūhei is also an accomplished hand-to-hand combatant, able to hold his own against strong opponents with his fists and legs, but generally, he prefers his katanas. Personality: Ryūhei comes off as a distant, fierce, and serious man that keeps to himself, opting to train, watch the ocean, eat, or train some more. However, despite this, he has a surprisingly small temper, and can lose said temper rather comically if you know how to push his buttons. Despite his lack of kinder emotions, other than anger or the occasional wistfulness, he does, in fact, have a heart - a rather passionate one, at that. He is a selfless being when it comes to those weaker and more innocent than him, and will risk his life in their steed - but he definitely won't go down without fighting. He believes that he lacks the ability to show certain emotions, and hasn't cried since...his past. In spite of this, he does have a bit of a humorous side - albeit his humor can be quite dark at times. In the crew, he's generally the more 'serious' of the mates, and somewhat of an advisor, pointing out flaws to the captain's plans, but otherwise keeping to himself. He loves eating, mostly due to the amount of fat his body sheds during his extreme physical workouts, but that's a story for another day. Although gruff on the outside, once you manage to get within his 'trust bubble', you will have an extremely dangerous swordsman with a kind, if not jaded and calloused heart as your guardian. He will fight armies for his teammates, and can, and is, willing to suffer through Hell for them, if necessary. Can sometimes come off as lazy due to his lack of responsibilities on board, but he's not actually lazy. In battle, he is incredibly violent and fierce, often grinning whenever his opponent is a challenge. However, when fighting weaker opponents, he tends to be a bit disappointed, restraining himself immensely, and holding back. Biography: To be revealed later. Theme Song: Grief - Warning, explicit language. Other: He has two katanas - Tsukihime and Benihime. Tsukihime has the white and blue hilt, and Benihime has the crimson and golden hilt.</s> <\|message\|>Originally born as 'Ryūhei Sasagara', his last name has been discarded. Hm...this was surprising. And he her thought that he had to save some little damsel in distress. Ryuhei had simply watched with a raised eyebrow and a growing smirk as the girl seemed to blur forward at a speed that his sharp eyes easily matched, kicking a goon before kicking another two, breaking quite a bit of furniture in the old tavern. An old man at the back seemed to guffaw about something or another, talking about Ryuhei preparing to kill these men for no reason; which only made his smirk grow into a grin. Just as he was about to laugh at the old timer and say some really hurtful words, he was cut off by the girl leaping onto the table and declaring her future as the 'Pirate Queen'. Amongst the other goons and civilians, Ryuhei merely watched, his grin disappearing into his normal frown when she turned her attention to him. Did he want to have a go at her? A quick glance over her form showed him that no, he didn't want to have a go at her. There was no fear in the statement; he didn't want to fight her...because disappointing fights were, well, disappointing. She wouldn't further his goal of becoming the world's greatest swordsman...she most-likely had no skills as a swordsman, and although she took care of herself, she didn't have the physique of a physically astounding warrior, either. She was probably one of the people who relied on their Devil Fruits to save their day...a pity, really. However...he was in a fired-up move, and had been really looking forward to fighting the goons all around him. Maybe...No. He wouldn't raise a sword against someone weaker, if there was no fun in it. No challenge. "Not worth it." He stated dismissively, waving one hand. His golden eyes peered deeply at her form. "What are you...twelve? Fifteen? Ten?" Although it was hard to tell with his cold, deep voice, there was an ounce of honest curiosity. Obviously, the swordsman was incredibly lost when it came to knowing someone's age.</s> <\|message\|>Worches "OH! OH! NOW THEY LACK DELICACY, SAYS THE GIRL TOSSIN' EM THROUGH WALLS!" He went to take another swig of grog, before spewing it out at the mention of the phrase "queen of the pirates" and continuing to laugh his ass off. "GWAAAAAHAHAHA! LASSIE, PIRATES DON'T BOW TO NO KING OR QUEEN IN THIS AGE! AND CERTAINLY NOT ONE THAT'S SO COWARDLY THEY NEED A DEVIL FRUIT TO SURVIVE IN THE DRUNKEN DEMON!" The man stood up, shaking his head. His laughter died down as he grabbed the full bottle of alcohol in one hand, and a baseball bat in the other. He slung the bat over his shoulder before turning a hateful glare, full of the disappointment of a man seeing everything wrong with the new generation infesting the livelihood he held so dear, to the self-proclaimed pirate queen. "Aaaaah, piracy's gone downhill since my day it seems. All you brats runnin' about, talkin' about KING OF THE PIRATES this and I'M SO COOL I HAVE A MAGIC BANANA that. In my day, ye got by on yer wits, yer muscle, and yer reputation. But it looks like sellin' yer pirate's soul to the devil and forsakin' the sea's embrace fer power is enough to make some brats these days think they're hot shit. Thinks that lets them call themselves a pirate. In my day?" In the blink of an eye, a fork flew over to the wall, quivering over an old wanted poster. Strikeout Worches, a bounty of 54,000,000- For piracy, sinking a marine vessel, burglarizing a Marine Captain's house, the theft of cargo totaling 30,000 tons, and shaving a Marine Captain's prize showdog. The pirate adjusted his hat and headed for the door. "In my day ye had to WORK to be worthy of sayin' that."</s> <\|message\|>Kirstie D. Emeri Both guys seemed to be hugely understimating her. Devil Fruit or not, Emeri was still a damn fine pirate!..... probably. Even so, the comment from the swordsman pissed her off a bit. How could someone just not see that she was already eighteen?! "What was that!? Can't you see I am 18, you idiotic monkey!" Yeah, she was losing her cool. The guy didn't want to fight her and instead tried insulting her. Yeah, she should play it smooth here. She turned to the swordsman yet again, making her hair move around elgantly with her own elegant moves. "But even then, I cannot blame you for being scared of me. You may need swords, but I don't need such things. My, if it weren't because I ate a Devil Fruit by accident, I could still be able to drag you around the ground as it is proper for someone of YOUR class." Emeri jumped off the table. She was now full and out of here. Of course, she couldn't just let the comments of the old timer slide. He was part of the past age, and certainly a big asset for her in coming fights. She approached him with a smile. Even if he was saying all of those things and whatnot about devil fruits, he was certainly someone with some experience in the seas all ready. Perfect, just what Emeri needed. With another smirk, and pointing at him Emeri said what she needed to say. "You are a a real pain in anyone's bottom, old man. I like you. Even if you couldn't get a Devil Fruit in your time, I'm sure you are still real powerful. Why don't you become part of my crew?" She smiled at him. Of course, the bandits wouldn't just stay down while she had a talk with the old timer. Once the guy swinged his sword down to get her, Emeri decided to not let it go through her and instead use the guy's momentum against him. She avoided the slashing motion of the guy's sword, moved into the inside of the guy's guard and then punched him right on his stomach. It was a subtle move that still damaged the guy badly, making him fall to his knees. "W-What? How? She didn't even use her Devil Fruit powers....?" "Hehe, good enough right?" She turned to the old man. "Anyhow, I'm off to steal some boat to get to the next island. I need to get to the Grand Line as soon as possible. I need someone seasoned like you helping me out. You DO wish to see the seas one more time before dying right?" Emeri arrogantly smirked at him. She also turned to the swordsman and glared at him a bit, before smiling. She was trying to provoke him, in one way or the other. She would also like to have someone like that in her crew, someone aside from her that could fight. Just, she may need to educate the little monkey. "And the monkey swordsman over there.... Well, just come too. It'll be fun."</s> <\|message\|>Worches "...You want ta be queen o' the pirates." Worches pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. "An' ya don't even have a boat. Do Devil Fruits cause brain damage, lass? Is that why ya came into the Drunken Demon an' started insulting the local hoodlums?" He shook his head, following the girl out, taking the bottle with him. "If ye be a true laggard, I'd be a whoreson fer talkin' down of ya. Can't let ya go stickin' dubloons up yer nose or jumpin in' the water because ye see a pretty fish, so I guess I HAVE to come along."</s>	<\|message\|>Originally born as 'Ryūhei Sasagara', his last name has been discarded. Okay...this isn't what he wanted. Ryuhei watched, his face carefully devoid of emotions, and his eyes narrowed as the old man seemed to talk in an annoying accent that he honestly couldn't understand. Drunken demon....the tavern. Laggard? He honestly had no clue at all, and he didn't know what a whoreson was either. Dubloons meant butt, which she could somehow stick up her nose...and apparently the girl was stupid enough to jump in the water after a fish, despite, rather blatantly, being a Devil Fruit user. However, none of that mattered at this point...because apparently he was a monkey swordsman. Feeling a headache coming on, the swordsman reached up, massaging his temples. Forget this. He wasn't going to join a ship with a mental old man and an arrogant little brat- Just as he was about to turn around and walk out without another word, the same small old woman that he had met earlier...was sitting by the door, on the floor. She pointed at the brat and mouthed something...it was a bit hard to understand, due to her lack of teeth, but he could barely make out the words 'Fortune and destiny'. With a snort, Ryuhei turned back around, his dark golden eyes narrowed as he glanced over the brat's form. She...she was the ticket to his destiny? Going with her, would spur along his fortune and help him in his quest to become the world's strongest swordsman? A large, sharp-toothed grin formed on his face, Ryuhei's golden eyes seeming to glow crimson. "Okay, little girl," He began slowly, "It'll be fun." There was a mocking tone behind his deep voice, but before she could say anything, the demonic glow disappeared, and Ryuhei crossed his arms over his chest, his face returning to it's intimidating scowl.</s>
<\|description\|>Worches Appearance: Gender: Male Nicknames/Aliases: Fogey, Gramps, Old Man Epithet: Strikeout Worches Age: 55 Bounty: 54,000,000 Hometown: North Blue, Sports Island Pirate Crew: (Formerly the Fossil Rush pirates) Role: Powder Monkey Abilities & Skills: Despite being past his prime, Worches is still incredibly athletic. So athletic, in fact, that he doesn't bother with cannons- He just throws the cannonballs. He's the greatest pitcher in the North Line, with a fastball that can sink ships. What would be a single for most batters becomes an in-the-park-homer thanks to his speed, and he wields a Seastone baseball bat with disturbing skill. He's also good with his fingers, able to pick locks like nobody's business. Personality: Worches is, at his core, a professional pirate. He's plied the shipping lanes for twenty years, and expects the crew to behave like professionals. The idea of operating a ship with only a skeleton crew disgusts him, and he's just as disturbed by the lack of vital positions on the crew's roster. He feels that pirates who fall back on Devil Fruits are less than worthless, forsaking the sea for power and failing to train themselves. Biography: Born on Sports Island, an island obsessed with all forms of sports. While stopping to resupply, the quartermaster of the Fossil Rush Pirates saw his skill on the baseball diamond and figured he'd make an excellent powder boy- he was quick, he was small, and he had incredible dexterity. Jumping at the chance for adventure, the then-15-year-old pirate joined the crew without a second thought. Sailing across the North Blue, waylaying ships, plundering cargo, and ransoming captives- the true life of a pirate. Twenty years of adventure followed. Now, however, it's forty years later. The captain of the Fossil Rush has retired, and the crew has disbanded. Most of the crewmen have moved on to other crews or integrated into civilian life. But not Worches. He's been beaten and weathered by a life at sea, looking far older than he is. Piracy is his life, and if he has anything to say, it will be his death. The powderboy's all grown up, looking for a new crew, and hoping they aren't the "chivalrous pirates" that seem to be infesting the seas these days. Theme Song: WAY-HO-HO! IT'S ONE FOR ALL FOR ONE! Other:</s> <\|message\|>Worches The old man sat by the window, chugging a tankard of something reeking of ocean water and booze. Lovely, lovely grog. Rather than brooding in the corner like some childish adventure hero, he was laughing and singing with a few of the other old salts who'd found their way here by the window. The bounty of that table would have been enough to send most marines running for their money. The scene from the corner-skulking man and the girl drew a new batch of laughter. "Looks like he's yer knight in shinin' armor, lassie! Comin' to the rescue of a little girl! Aye, so big and brave, startin' barfights over a girl insulting a man!" Another long chug, he continued laughing at the ongoing dramatacism. "Tip yer hat and bend yer knee, laddie! Let her know you'll kill these men who've said barely three words ta ya to protect her from the consequences of her actions! GWAAAAAHAHA!"</s> <\|message\|>Kirstie D. Emeri Emeri was about to do something about the rude customers herself when another guy came and started cutting people up. Yeah, an skilled swordsman no doubt, but it still seemed... wrong to interfere in a fight just because and like that. The guy seemed to think that Emeri couldn't take care of herself. And then there was the old guy in the bar that made the girl blush like crazy. Yeah, she needed no knight in shining armor. She was her OWN knight in shining armor. "Huh... I see, I see. So, you think I need someone saving me? Don't make me laugh!" Disappearing in a blur, Emeri advanced forward, making some of the civilians admire in awe her stunning speed. "Oto Dash!" Emeri said, after getting herself in front of one of the goons wiht a wide smirk in her face. "You guys lack so much delicacy. You don't deserve to be treated nicely." The girl said, before punching the first guy at super sonic speed and throwing him against the wall, effectively making him dig into it and leave his sillhoute there. And then, before anymore of them could even react to what she had done, she threw herself to the ground and supported herself on the ground, before using her legs at super sonic speed yet again and kicking two of the other goons standing behind her. They also flew quite some distance, but this time, one crashed against a table and broke it and the other against a chair, also breaking it. With that done, the girl spun around still supporting herself on the ground and then finally brought her legs down to ground level. Running a hand by her hair, Emeri decided to jump over a table and look down on all of the idiots. "Now, how about you all just calm down a bit. It is not like you stand a chance against the Queen of Pirates right here." With that said, every civilian in the bar seemed to be a bit shocked at her sudden statement.... Before breaking into a fit of laughter that filled the bar. Things like 'Did you hear this idiot?', 'She can't really be thinking she can become the King of Pirates, 'Not with so many dangerous rookies lulling around!' Yes, all of them were pretty insulting. Emeri's face became red as a tomato the moment they started laughing. "Heh, even if you laugh right now, soon enough, you'll be begging in your knees once you see I am really the Pirate Queen!" Emeri says back to them, before turning to the swordsman. "And you! Why did you have to interfere like that? Didn't you see I had the situation under control?" Calming herself down, she finally looks back at Ryuhei with a smile in her face. "Or what, would you like to go at it with me?"</s> <\|message\|>Originally born as 'Ryūhei Sasagara', his last name has been discarded. Hm...this was surprising. And he her thought that he had to save some little damsel in distress. Ryuhei had simply watched with a raised eyebrow and a growing smirk as the girl seemed to blur forward at a speed that his sharp eyes easily matched, kicking a goon before kicking another two, breaking quite a bit of furniture in the old tavern. An old man at the back seemed to guffaw about something or another, talking about Ryuhei preparing to kill these men for no reason; which only made his smirk grow into a grin. Just as he was about to laugh at the old timer and say some really hurtful words, he was cut off by the girl leaping onto the table and declaring her future as the 'Pirate Queen'. Amongst the other goons and civilians, Ryuhei merely watched, his grin disappearing into his normal frown when she turned her attention to him. Did he want to have a go at her? A quick glance over her form showed him that no, he didn't want to have a go at her. There was no fear in the statement; he didn't want to fight her...because disappointing fights were, well, disappointing. She wouldn't further his goal of becoming the world's greatest swordsman...she most-likely had no skills as a swordsman, and although she took care of herself, she didn't have the physique of a physically astounding warrior, either. She was probably one of the people who relied on their Devil Fruits to save their day...a pity, really. However...he was in a fired-up move, and had been really looking forward to fighting the goons all around him. Maybe...No. He wouldn't raise a sword against someone weaker, if there was no fun in it. No challenge. "Not worth it." He stated dismissively, waving one hand. His golden eyes peered deeply at her form. "What are you...twelve? Fifteen? Ten?" Although it was hard to tell with his cold, deep voice, there was an ounce of honest curiosity. Obviously, the swordsman was incredibly lost when it came to knowing someone's age.</s> <\|message\|>Worches "OH! OH! NOW THEY LACK DELICACY, SAYS THE GIRL TOSSIN' EM THROUGH WALLS!" He went to take another swig of grog, before spewing it out at the mention of the phrase "queen of the pirates" and continuing to laugh his ass off. "GWAAAAAHAHAHA! LASSIE, PIRATES DON'T BOW TO NO KING OR QUEEN IN THIS AGE! AND CERTAINLY NOT ONE THAT'S SO COWARDLY THEY NEED A DEVIL FRUIT TO SURVIVE IN THE DRUNKEN DEMON!" The man stood up, shaking his head. His laughter died down as he grabbed the full bottle of alcohol in one hand, and a baseball bat in the other. He slung the bat over his shoulder before turning a hateful glare, full of the disappointment of a man seeing everything wrong with the new generation infesting the livelihood he held so dear, to the self-proclaimed pirate queen. "Aaaaah, piracy's gone downhill since my day it seems. All you brats runnin' about, talkin' about KING OF THE PIRATES this and I'M SO COOL I HAVE A MAGIC BANANA that. In my day, ye got by on yer wits, yer muscle, and yer reputation. But it looks like sellin' yer pirate's soul to the devil and forsakin' the sea's embrace fer power is enough to make some brats these days think they're hot shit. Thinks that lets them call themselves a pirate. In my day?" In the blink of an eye, a fork flew over to the wall, quivering over an old wanted poster. Strikeout Worches, a bounty of 54,000,000- For piracy, sinking a marine vessel, burglarizing a Marine Captain's house, the theft of cargo totaling 30,000 tons, and shaving a Marine Captain's prize showdog. The pirate adjusted his hat and headed for the door. "In my day ye had to WORK to be worthy of sayin' that."</s> <\|message\|>Kirstie D. Emeri Both guys seemed to be hugely understimating her. Devil Fruit or not, Emeri was still a damn fine pirate!..... probably. Even so, the comment from the swordsman pissed her off a bit. How could someone just not see that she was already eighteen?! "What was that!? Can't you see I am 18, you idiotic monkey!" Yeah, she was losing her cool. The guy didn't want to fight her and instead tried insulting her. Yeah, she should play it smooth here. She turned to the swordsman yet again, making her hair move around elgantly with her own elegant moves. "But even then, I cannot blame you for being scared of me. You may need swords, but I don't need such things. My, if it weren't because I ate a Devil Fruit by accident, I could still be able to drag you around the ground as it is proper for someone of YOUR class." Emeri jumped off the table. She was now full and out of here. Of course, she couldn't just let the comments of the old timer slide. He was part of the past age, and certainly a big asset for her in coming fights. She approached him with a smile. Even if he was saying all of those things and whatnot about devil fruits, he was certainly someone with some experience in the seas all ready. Perfect, just what Emeri needed. With another smirk, and pointing at him Emeri said what she needed to say. "You are a a real pain in anyone's bottom, old man. I like you. Even if you couldn't get a Devil Fruit in your time, I'm sure you are still real powerful. Why don't you become part of my crew?" She smiled at him. Of course, the bandits wouldn't just stay down while she had a talk with the old timer. Once the guy swinged his sword down to get her, Emeri decided to not let it go through her and instead use the guy's momentum against him. She avoided the slashing motion of the guy's sword, moved into the inside of the guy's guard and then punched him right on his stomach. It was a subtle move that still damaged the guy badly, making him fall to his knees. "W-What? How? She didn't even use her Devil Fruit powers....?" "Hehe, good enough right?" She turned to the old man. "Anyhow, I'm off to steal some boat to get to the next island. I need to get to the Grand Line as soon as possible. I need someone seasoned like you helping me out. You DO wish to see the seas one more time before dying right?" Emeri arrogantly smirked at him. She also turned to the swordsman and glared at him a bit, before smiling. She was trying to provoke him, in one way or the other. She would also like to have someone like that in her crew, someone aside from her that could fight. Just, she may need to educate the little monkey. "And the monkey swordsman over there.... Well, just come too. It'll be fun."</s>	<\|message\|>Worches "...You want ta be queen o' the pirates." Worches pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. "An' ya don't even have a boat. Do Devil Fruits cause brain damage, lass? Is that why ya came into the Drunken Demon an' started insulting the local hoodlums?" He shook his head, following the girl out, taking the bottle with him. "If ye be a true laggard, I'd be a whoreson fer talkin' down of ya. Can't let ya go stickin' dubloons up yer nose or jumpin in' the water because ye see a pretty fish, so I guess I HAVE to come along."</s>
<\|description\|>Revan This, but with black hair and red eyes Themes:* All-Out Battle/Demon Lord * Absolute rage * Lucifer Mode * Asmodeus Mode Nickname:The Lord of Demons, King of Shadow, The Demon-mage of Slaughter, Rev Age:Doesn't remember, but somewhere between 100-250 years old, looks to be around his late twenties to early thirties. Gender: Male Rank: Paragon Guild:Harpy's Wing, formerly the guild Master of Demon's Maw Personality: In his past he was very violent cruel, and sadistic, but know he is rather laid-back, not easily angered to any degree greater than minor annoyance. That's not to say that he is completely without his former cruelty, it just takes a lot more to bring it out in any kind of way. He is also rather cold and aloof to the needs and wants of others, at times not understanding the emotions and feelings off others. He bears the Demon's Maw Guild seal on his chest, though he keeps it well hidden, and never takes his shirt off until he's sure he's alone. His New Harpy's Wing seal is located on over his left eye. The reason, so he only has to blink for people to know what guild he's apart of, and even that is too much work at times. Bio: Revan was not born, but created by a cult of Demon worshippers, hoping to create a demon of their own by sacrificing a human infant to foul demonic energy, but instead the Demonic was absorbed by the child, changing him and turning him into something more than a more than a regular man, but less than a demon. A hybrid creature whose humanity was consumed by his demonic soul. As the child grew so did his lust for power, he killed those that stood in his way, ravaged country sides, and was unstoppable by all who sought to oppose him. He gather followers and soon coined a NAme for themselves, Demon's Maw, for they shall swallow the World whole and send it plunging in to Chaos and Destruction. One day, however, the Dark Lord of Demon's Maw was struck down in battle with the Ten Wizard Saints and as his body fell, he was immediately removed of his demon heart and soul, leaving behind only an empty corpse. Or so they thought. As he was soon revived, and was able to escape from the Wizard saints, though he was left thoroughly weakened by the ordeal, as was his Guild, as they had no master to lead them and had degraded into infighting. Whether they survived or not, the lord didn't know and didn't care. As he stet out to regain his former glory by getting back his demon heart and soul. That was around thirty to fifty years ago, and in this period of time, the dark lord found that he couldn't draw up the same amount of bloodlust and rage that he used to, heck even a human could feel more than he could. He began to stop actively searching for his missing power, questioning why he even wanted it. While it had been great and euphoric, all he had ever been able to think about was death and slaughter. Without it he felt so much more free, like he finally had a choice in what he wanted to do. He gave himself the name Revan, and abandoned that part of his life forever more. He still searches for his other parts, but more out of trying to put a purpose to his wandering than actually trying to find them again. Magic: Infernal Arms Magic, a magic that summons Demonic weapons and armor, each one holding the spirit of an Infernal Spirit. Power of the arm depends on the amount of demonic magic the user possesses, thus only Revan can use it effectively due to him being a half-demon. However, due to having his demonic heart and soul stolen from him, he has less than a quarter of his original amount, making it so he can only summon the first two arms. This is because the other arms, or to be more specific the Infernal spirits inside of them don't see him as a worthy user anymore. The Infernal Spirits are fallen Celestial Spirits, cast out from the Celestial realm for committing great crimes against it. The strongest among them are the 7 Deadly Sins, which are their equivalent to the 12 Celestial Zodiac Spirits. Instead of keys, Infernal Spirits are brought to this plane by Infernal Rings. Revan holds all of the Deadly sins, but can only use two, Sloth and Envy. He also bears another two spirits, Fear and Despair. Ring of Sloth: This Greater Infernal Arm creates the Ultimate neutral zone, by taking away the will to fight, kill, or do anything other than lay around and chit-chat from any =one with in it's range of activation. Revan is not immune to these effects, but since he is already like that pretty much all the time, it doesn't affect him much. Also, an attack performed outside the radius towards him will fizzle out once it enters it, He can hold the zone for about 30 minutes to an hour, depending on how much energy he wants to expend into it, and is best used to talk down enraged opponents, or provide an easy escape from a trouble situation, as the area this effects is stationary, and only the one holding the ring and those in contact with him will be able to muster up the will to leave it's boundaries. Can only be used three times a day. Spirit of Envy: This Greater Infernal Arms covers Revan's hands in a sickly green energy, which he can launch at foes and control at will. The energy isn't dangerous in and of itself, but what it does is especially frightening. It is an Ultimate equalizer, as when the energy comes in contact with a rival mage, the spirt of Envy puts them on an equal playing ground by locking them into the same magic type, which is of Revan's choosing but cannot be one of Revan's, and the same level of power with said magic. This leaves it so that a fight that had no chance of being one, can become a tough fight with each participant locked into a ferocious battle where the only deciding factor is skill. This magic is deactivated once either someone is defeated, or Revan pays a blood sacrifice to end the battle prematurely. This arm can only be used once a day, and after it is used, Revan is severely weakened in his ability to use magic. Blade of Vengeance: A lesser Infernal Arm, this one allows the user to absorb a magical attack with the blade, and either send it back at the opponent, or infuse it into the weapon. When used against slayers, the element absorbed still counts as their magic and thus is inedible to them The Susanou one in the middle Gauntlets of : Since it is a Lesser Infernal Arm, in can be used with other Infernal Arms, if they are of a Lesser Quality Shadow Hydra Magic: This is a type of Magic that requires not any chants or sigils, but the tunes of a flute or a whistle. Being Revan's main offensive Magic, as his Arms are rather costly, they work similarly to maker magic, except the shadows are actually living creatures known as Shadow Hydra, which are Serpentine in appearance and bear no true physical form unless they are given a source and structure by magic. Their are Ranks to these Creatures, with the lowest and weakest being of Rank E and the highest being the King at Rank S. The Shadow hydras can form any shape their summoner wishes them to be, be it weapons, armor, even creatures to fight by his side. A special attribute of B-rank and above hydras is that they can replicate a certain number of times when they are split apart by an attack before they vanish back into shadows. B Ranks can do this 3 times, and A- ranks five, the king can do this infinitely, but due to the amount of magic it takes to sustain the replication, he caps at 20. S-rank can only be summoned for a few minutes, so he is only used for big attacks with a large charge up, and fast activation. Spells: Song of the Bulwark: Casts him in a suit of armor Song of Armaments Song of Gommorah Song of Beasts Song of Doom Song of Desolation Satan Soul: This particular form of Magic allows the user to Take Over the powers and forms of different Demons. These forms give the user a variety of different abilities such as flight, enhanced speed, strength, reflexes etc. This magic effects Revan differently than other due to his demon blood. making the respective magic stronger, but also increasing the risk of Revan losing control of his demon side. The forms he has in addition to the basic form are his Asomodeus and Lucifer forms. Asomodeus form is all about over powering offense from any distance, dramatically increasing Revan's attack power by a great amount, as well as his speed and reflexes, to better avoid attacks, as his defenses in this form aren't that great. This form also enables the user to gain control of darkness, which is a very offensive element, able to inflict both physical and mental damage. Moaning Lamentation:A chargeable magic that gains more shots as it charges,it fires of these beams of darkness at the enemy, each one followed by a mournful keening. These rise in volume to ear bursting shrieks that pierce the soul, disorienting the target and allowing for an easier target. Dark Awakening: A Hydra magic only available in this form, he summons the King Hydra from a single point, causing an explosion of energy to rip through the ground before it turns around and begins to devour whoever is unlucky enough to cross it's path Rising Sodom: A high-level technique that is his second strongest attack, he calls up all of the Darkness of the earth to rises up and break through. Basically, a blasts of darkness rising from the ground, except it's fucking huge, swallowing cities the size of Crocus at it's widest, and even when condensed to increase the damage output, it's still massive enough that it destroys entire blocks at it's smallest. Lucifer is also very offensive, but more well rounded, boosting his Attack power, Defenses, and Speed by an impressive amount. This form also gives Revan control over the very Earth itself, allowing them to act defensively or offensively with maximum effectiveness. Also, he is a master of dominating demons to his will, opting to either crush their minds and souls or making them his slaves and puppets. Break The Heavens: Hell Unleashed: A move that causes a Mega-quake, rising up giant earthen spires agaisnt the target, completely decimating the area around him. Bestial Reckoning: Same thing as Dark Awakening, but it covers the King in a layer of earthen armor, protecting it from attacks. When Revan uses Satan Soul magic, you know he's gotten serious and that you are either screwed or in for one hell of a fight. An unavoidable side effect of this magic is that for a short time after using it, Revan will under go radical mood changes. Using Asomodeus will make him a womanizing playboy, while using Lucifer will turn him into an arrogant snob, and just using the basic form will make him more aggressive in what ever he does. Extra: Due to being half demon, He is noticeably faster,stronger, and more durable than most people, and can even grow wings, though it is an incredibly painful, if quick, process. His senses are also much more acute, can see in the dark, and restores his magic faster when he is in darkness and shadow.</s> <\|message\|>Gwen Sniegow Peak Village Though it was large, it was sparsely populated. The weather made most people feel less inclined to hang around the station, only being bothered to hurry through it to get somewhere warmer. But neither Stacy nor Gwen were bothered by the temperature. "Beat me here? You're always faster than me but today it was a tie." Gwen patted her back. Stacy have always been physically faster than Gwen which is something Gwen herself is catching up on, the gap everyday closes in. But it doesn't matter who is stronger than who, what matters the most is, both look out for each other because they only have each other now, no family, no friends, just themselves, Stacy and Gwen. Sisters in many ways yet not in blood, their bond is great. "Yeah we should get some food but we need a job to do that but BLAAHHH... where can we find jobs? I also don't know where to go east or south? We're looking for Altima an independent guild that Liz told us." While dismayed with the lack of job. Gwen's panting but at the same time her expression was sad and shallow after mentioning their mentor, Liz. The Wizard Saint was a mother to them, so motherly to them even for five years that fall short. Gwen started crying but denies her tears. Flashback Liz Blanche Weiss "North, South, East, or the West. Even a Wizard Saint like me have been to farther places, it is so vivid out there. Not just ice that we see everyday. When you're old enough, you will have big breasts, beautiful bodies and attitudes, boys will be falling for you both. Haha but best of all the values I have thought you will prosper but it is something that a mother gives to her daughters. When I was your age, I trained under a guild named Altima, when the time comes when you have graciously nice bodies! Give the guild a good fight!" There was more to what Liz said other than her usual nonchalant energetic persona and joking around. Flashback Over Suddenly the train exploded; Acting quick as lightning, Gwen created an ice shield to protect her and Stacy. There was a very bad man who is out wreaking havoc in the train station while fighting with a fine young lady. "Stacy.. you okay. Take off your clothes." @Suku (@Suku. This is a hint, you are given a mission to destroy this certain man)</s> <\|message\|>Kyoka Kawashiro The mission was supposed to simple and straight forward but she should have known since was anything simple with the missions she gets? Now here she was fighting some crazed maniac who likes destroying cities. Blocking a attack with her sword God Eater she kicked him in the stomach before flipping getting to her feet once more. In the back of her eyes she saw two young mages thankfully they had a shield up so they weren't harm much if any. Taking up on her now free space she quickly decided to switch swords "Decaforce Explosion!! she yelled as she swung her new sword down causing a explosion where it hit the ground." Using the smoke caused by the explosion she charged forth once more hopefully this will end soon she did not want to involve the young mages or harm any civilians.</s>	<\|message\|>Revan Revan had just made it to the Peak Village, where he was supposed to meet the man who had given the request s he could find the monster, when all of the sudden, a fight seemed to have broken out. Some girl fighting against some guy for fuck all reasons. He wasn't going to get involved in this, he just had to do his mission then go home. But then again, he wasn't goign to be able tto do that until this fight had been out to rest. Goddamit. Revan walked past the two little girls who were hiding behind a wall off ice, the amount of killing intent he was giving ice sending chill down there spine as he passed by them, before he suddenly appeared behind the mask figure, with a fist cloaked in shadowy gauntlets drawn back. Without another word, Revan launch a haymaker punch at the guy, aiming to send him hurtling towards the other girl's attack. Or kill him, what ever came first. He didn't really care as long as he was able to get going on his way. "I fucking hate the North." Haruna</s>
<\|description\|>Ser Arthur House: Baratheon Age: 24 Bio/Story: Ser Arthur is a Stormlander and the firstborn son of the lord Baratheon - fierce in battle and decisive in action, and not without a hot temper of his House. Ser Arthur is a well-known knight with many tourney championships below his belt. He is situated in the King's Landing as an envoy and a representative of House Baratheon in the capital. He often brawls and spars with his men-at-arms and knights in the Red Keep's barracks and training field. Sometimes he finds his way to the local taverns. Ser Arthur is married to lady Alys Selmy, a prominent landholder in the Stormlands. His father is the Lord of Storm's End. Occupation / Rank: Knight Personality: Ser Arthur is a tactical prodigy - aggressive, rash and a front line leader, but not much of a strategist. He has a booming voice that enables him to shout commands to his men. He is a quick thinker, but not really a genius. Ser Arthur often jumps to conclusions too soon (except in battles), and often follows his instincts and intuition. He dislikes bards and singers, but enjoys singing a ballad known as "The Storm's End" by a famed bard Dandelion of Oldtown. Appearance: He is slightly taller than most men of the Stormlands, about six feet, and has a long, pale scar running across his face, thanks to a duel with a Martell. He has cropped, black hair and a small beard. Arthur has the green eyes of his mother's. He is quite strong, thanks to his upbringing. It's like he was born to fight in wars and battles. Other: Ser Arthur carries a Valyrian bastard sword called the Doom into battle. It is engraved with strange symbols, and no maester in Westeros knows what they mean. He has a black destrier named Roach. Killable by others?: Yes</s> <\|message\|>Ser Arthur A Web of Lies The King is dead, long live the king! It was already noon, and the coronation had just begun in the Red Keep. Many high lords and ladies far and near were cramped into its throne room, and Ser Arthur Baratheon was one of them. And he wasn't happy about it. Even Dorne is cooler than this room, Ser Arthur thought and swiped sweat from his brow. Gods be damned with their long summers and days like these. His silken tunic was designed to keep his body cool, but the Red Keep was known to be a hellhole on a warm summer day. And it didn't do him good that the coronation of the lord Arryn was taking ages! The High Septon was talking something about the wisdom of the gods and the responsibility of a king to the gods above, to the lords beside him and to the people below, but Arthur couldn't care less. He hated the High Septon and his annoying voice with its tempo and high pitch. Arthur had hated the man since the day he had arrived to the capital. He remembered that day well. High Septon had been sent to greet him along with some servants and soldiers, and weary from the travel, Arthur had been annoyed by the High Septon. He had started to talk and just had kept on talking and talking. Arthur had almost punched to man to the gut, but had resisted the urge. The hall used for the coronation was the throne room where the Iron Throne was. It is an ugly piece of furniture and really a pain in the ass to sit, Arthur contemplated. The High Septon and Lord Arryn, the king-to-be, were in front of the Throne, standing few feet apart. The lords and ladies were standing all around the throne room. It didn't have many chairs or any other furniture. The High Septon was finishing his speech, and was asking everyone to join in a prayer to the gods, to grant the new king wisdom and a long, prosperous reign. Gods, just strike them down with a bolt of lightning, Arthur prayed. But they didn't, because they didn't listen to him, as always. They never listened to him.</s> <\|message\|>Mychael Mychael Lannister observed the going-on's with mild disinterest. Next to him, Arthur Baratheon seemed to be bored out of his wits. To tell the truth, Mychael was too. The High Septon just kept droning on, and, also sitting next to him, his niece and nephew couldn't sit still and were yapping on and playing games. He took another sip. Alcohol couldn't make them go away, but it could help. He turned to his brother Baldric, who seemed to be sleeping. His wife Alyna was talking to Lord Stark, who was on the other hand watching the going-ons keenly. To each his own. Mychael had been to the last Targaeryen coronation when he was a boy. It had been very grand, and there had even been a Dragon present. It was a babe at the time, but nevertheless. It nearly burnt the king's beard off. That was a good ceremony, a coronation worthy of it's name. And no fucking High Septon. Even Rickard looked bored, and he was about to be the most important person in the realm. He'd put on weight, obviously having visited the pantry several times. Mychael leaned forward. Something appeared to be happening, as the Septon had actually physically moved. This startled the children and woke up Baldric. He had taken the King's crown, and was about to place it on Rickard Arryn's head. It was a thing of beauty. Wrought of silver, eagles and half crescent moons adorned it. The eyes of the eagles had little beads of onyx for eyes. Also given to him was his father's legacy: a Valyrian steel sword, with a black pattern welded blade, and an eagle hilt set with sapphires. He nudged Arthur next to him. "Look, something's happening."</s> <\|message\|>Ser Arthur "Oh really, my lord of Lannister? The High Septon just crowned the king. That means we're one step nearer ending this mummer's coronation" Arthur said back to Mychael. He didn't have much love for the Lannisters, but Mychael seemed all right. He wasn't a fighter like him, but Mychael was like his lord father in many ways. Both had their noses buried deep in ledgers and reports. Arthur was bored by paperwork, but he knew someone had to do it, because soldiers like him depended on them. Somebody had to pay the soldiers and gather money to equip them, to build the roads they marched on. His father, the lord of the Storm's End, had just been chosen to the small council to act as the Master of Coin. He must have been happy to hear that he beat the famed lion of Lannister. "That sword is really a beauty, though" Arthur remarked. "Maybe not as good-looking as my Doom, but still a worthy blade for a king."</s> <\|message\|>Daemon Targaryen (Aeryx Laeniar) Daemon was sitting near to the back of the coronation, dressed in loose yellow robes. He had yet to be born when his uncle was crowned king, and this was actually his first time seeing the Iron Throne in person. He was far more interested in the titanic seat of iron and steel blades than he was in the coronation itself, and he had toned out the High Septons droning some time ago. He finally looked around the room, trying to determine who was who in the mass of nobles attending the coronation. The Lannisters were unmistakable of course, and he thought he recognized the Starks near the front as well, but he was unsure about the rest. He was mentally making notes about who could be potential allies in Kings Landing but at the moment he didn't see anyone who he knew might be sympathetic to his cause. His attention returned to Rickard Arryn and the High Septon when a murmur rumbled through the room and his eyes were drawn to the silver crown the High Septon was about to ceremoniously place atop Rickards head. He concealed his feelings of disgust at the ornate silver crown, viewing it as all but a direct insult to the crowns of the Targaryen kings, but despite his fury he remained outwardly calm, eyes eventually being drawn to the Lannister lord and someone he was conversing with, assuming the other man must be a highborn lord as well, due to his seating location.</s> <\|message\|>Mychael "Maybe not as good-looking as my Doom, but still a worthy blade for a king." "Certainly better than Widowmaker, Baldric's sword," Mychael jested. Baldric had taken three wives and left each one, generating controversy. Mychael called his sword the Widowmaker. He felt like someone was watching him. He looked around the room and saw something that caught his attention. "White hair," he muttered. Unmistakeable. The lad stood taller than the others around him, with long flowing hair and... yes, purple eyes. For some reason he was wearing robes that made him look like a foreign diplomat, some Essosi or something. He was looking straight at them, and though Mychael pretended not to look at him, he saw all he was doing. "Don't look, Lord Baratheon, but someone's watching us. A dragon."</s>	<\|message\|>Ser Arthur Arthur was watching the Iron Throne and the king as he was walking up the steps to sit on the throne. He heard what the Lannister said, and felt an urge to look what he was talking about, but instead, he tried to keep his calm. "A dragon, Lord Lannister? Are you kidding with me?" he said with a whisker of amusement. He didn't take his eyes from the king. "There hasn't been fire-breathing dragons in Westeros for almost quarter of a century, let alone a Targaryen in this hall for like fifteen years!" Arthur had been born under the rulership of the last Targaryen king, yet he had been toppled from his throne before his tenth name day. He had been told that the Targaryens were wicked kings who drank wildfire as wine. He didn't knew about that, but Arbor gold was a much better choice. "Just go to talk to him, Lannister, and get it over with" he said and turned to Lord Lannister. "You should get yourself introduced with him and if he's a Targaryen, then you can turn him up to the crown."</s>
<\|description\|>Mychael House: Lannister Age: 37 Bio/Story: Mychael is the eldest son of the late Jonnen Lannister. More skilled with his wits then a sword, he leaves most warfare to his younger brother and instead rules peacefully at Casterly Rock, taking care of the economy and other important affairs. He is currently celibate, and a great friend of the new King. Occupation/Rank: Lord of Casterly Rock Personality: Smart, cunning, witty. He has a way with words in which he can resolve conflicts without spilling any blood. Appearance: He bears the traditional blond hair and green eyes of the Lannisters. He is very tall, at 6'2, and wears his hair short. Other: KILLABLE (WARNING: DEATH IS FINAL) by others?: YES</s> <\|message\|>Ser Arthur A Web of Lies The King is dead, long live the king! It was already noon, and the coronation had just begun in the Red Keep. Many high lords and ladies far and near were cramped into its throne room, and Ser Arthur Baratheon was one of them. And he wasn't happy about it. Even Dorne is cooler than this room, Ser Arthur thought and swiped sweat from his brow. Gods be damned with their long summers and days like these. His silken tunic was designed to keep his body cool, but the Red Keep was known to be a hellhole on a warm summer day. And it didn't do him good that the coronation of the lord Arryn was taking ages! The High Septon was talking something about the wisdom of the gods and the responsibility of a king to the gods above, to the lords beside him and to the people below, but Arthur couldn't care less. He hated the High Septon and his annoying voice with its tempo and high pitch. Arthur had hated the man since the day he had arrived to the capital. He remembered that day well. High Septon had been sent to greet him along with some servants and soldiers, and weary from the travel, Arthur had been annoyed by the High Septon. He had started to talk and just had kept on talking and talking. Arthur had almost punched to man to the gut, but had resisted the urge. The hall used for the coronation was the throne room where the Iron Throne was. It is an ugly piece of furniture and really a pain in the ass to sit, Arthur contemplated. The High Septon and Lord Arryn, the king-to-be, were in front of the Throne, standing few feet apart. The lords and ladies were standing all around the throne room. It didn't have many chairs or any other furniture. The High Septon was finishing his speech, and was asking everyone to join in a prayer to the gods, to grant the new king wisdom and a long, prosperous reign. Gods, just strike them down with a bolt of lightning, Arthur prayed. But they didn't, because they didn't listen to him, as always. They never listened to him.</s> <\|message\|>Mychael Mychael Lannister observed the going-on's with mild disinterest. Next to him, Arthur Baratheon seemed to be bored out of his wits. To tell the truth, Mychael was too. The High Septon just kept droning on, and, also sitting next to him, his niece and nephew couldn't sit still and were yapping on and playing games. He took another sip. Alcohol couldn't make them go away, but it could help. He turned to his brother Baldric, who seemed to be sleeping. His wife Alyna was talking to Lord Stark, who was on the other hand watching the going-ons keenly. To each his own. Mychael had been to the last Targaeryen coronation when he was a boy. It had been very grand, and there had even been a Dragon present. It was a babe at the time, but nevertheless. It nearly burnt the king's beard off. That was a good ceremony, a coronation worthy of it's name. And no fucking High Septon. Even Rickard looked bored, and he was about to be the most important person in the realm. He'd put on weight, obviously having visited the pantry several times. Mychael leaned forward. Something appeared to be happening, as the Septon had actually physically moved. This startled the children and woke up Baldric. He had taken the King's crown, and was about to place it on Rickard Arryn's head. It was a thing of beauty. Wrought of silver, eagles and half crescent moons adorned it. The eyes of the eagles had little beads of onyx for eyes. Also given to him was his father's legacy: a Valyrian steel sword, with a black pattern welded blade, and an eagle hilt set with sapphires. He nudged Arthur next to him. "Look, something's happening."</s> <\|message\|>Ser Arthur "Oh really, my lord of Lannister? The High Septon just crowned the king. That means we're one step nearer ending this mummer's coronation" Arthur said back to Mychael. He didn't have much love for the Lannisters, but Mychael seemed all right. He wasn't a fighter like him, but Mychael was like his lord father in many ways. Both had their noses buried deep in ledgers and reports. Arthur was bored by paperwork, but he knew someone had to do it, because soldiers like him depended on them. Somebody had to pay the soldiers and gather money to equip them, to build the roads they marched on. His father, the lord of the Storm's End, had just been chosen to the small council to act as the Master of Coin. He must have been happy to hear that he beat the famed lion of Lannister. "That sword is really a beauty, though" Arthur remarked. "Maybe not as good-looking as my Doom, but still a worthy blade for a king."</s> <\|message\|>Daemon Targaryen (Aeryx Laeniar) Daemon was sitting near to the back of the coronation, dressed in loose yellow robes. He had yet to be born when his uncle was crowned king, and this was actually his first time seeing the Iron Throne in person. He was far more interested in the titanic seat of iron and steel blades than he was in the coronation itself, and he had toned out the High Septons droning some time ago. He finally looked around the room, trying to determine who was who in the mass of nobles attending the coronation. The Lannisters were unmistakable of course, and he thought he recognized the Starks near the front as well, but he was unsure about the rest. He was mentally making notes about who could be potential allies in Kings Landing but at the moment he didn't see anyone who he knew might be sympathetic to his cause. His attention returned to Rickard Arryn and the High Septon when a murmur rumbled through the room and his eyes were drawn to the silver crown the High Septon was about to ceremoniously place atop Rickards head. He concealed his feelings of disgust at the ornate silver crown, viewing it as all but a direct insult to the crowns of the Targaryen kings, but despite his fury he remained outwardly calm, eyes eventually being drawn to the Lannister lord and someone he was conversing with, assuming the other man must be a highborn lord as well, due to his seating location.</s>	<\|message\|>Mychael "Maybe not as good-looking as my Doom, but still a worthy blade for a king." "Certainly better than Widowmaker, Baldric's sword," Mychael jested. Baldric had taken three wives and left each one, generating controversy. Mychael called his sword the Widowmaker. He felt like someone was watching him. He looked around the room and saw something that caught his attention. "White hair," he muttered. Unmistakeable. The lad stood taller than the others around him, with long flowing hair and... yes, purple eyes. For some reason he was wearing robes that made him look like a foreign diplomat, some Essosi or something. He was looking straight at them, and though Mychael pretended not to look at him, he saw all he was doing. "Don't look, Lord Baratheon, but someone's watching us. A dragon."</s>
<\|description\|>Daemon Targaryen (Aeryx Laeniar) House: Targaryen Age: 26 Bio/Story: Daemon was born into a time of trial for the Targaryens, his uncle the king was not well liked, and the great houses of Westeros had grown unhappy with the Targaryen leadership. When most houses rose up in open rebellion soon after Daemon's birth he was smuggled away to Essos by secret loyalists, and grew up in the protection of a member of his fathers Kingsguard, who raised him with the intent of returning Daemon to his rightful place on the Iron Throne. Finally with the death of the King of Westeros and his replacement with Rickard Arryn, those who still hold a secret loyalty to House Targaryen have arranged for Daemon to return to Kings Landing, under the guise of a diplomat from Volantis named Aeryx Laeniar, using the fact that the Volantine people often had similar physical traits to Targaryens to disguise his violet eyes and pure white hair. Occupation/Rank: Exiled Prince/Volantine Diplomat Personality: Daemon has been raised to know the proper manners of a Targaryen prince, but he was also raised as the subject of a secret plot. He knows how to hide his nature and play the part of the diplomat, even if he finds it rather distasteful to do so. His true personality lacks the insanity often typified by Targaryens, as it seems the gods coin-flip landed on greatness. He is good at making people like him, but he does often lose his temper when things don't go his way, even if he is usually good at hiding it. Appearance: Daemon stands tall, easily a few inches higher than most average size men, with pale, snow white wavy hair falling near his shoulders, and piercing violet eyes set on a handsome, pale-skinned face. His body is square-shouldered and lean, but his body is solidly muscle, honed by training with a sword under his guardian, once a loyal member of the Kingsguard. As far as clothing, he usually wears the gaudy robes of an Essossi diplomat, specifically chosen to hang loose on his body and hide the chainmail and boiled leather he wears underneath. Other: KILLABLE by others?: YES</s> <\|message\|>Ser Arthur A Web of Lies The King is dead, long live the king! It was already noon, and the coronation had just begun in the Red Keep. Many high lords and ladies far and near were cramped into its throne room, and Ser Arthur Baratheon was one of them. And he wasn't happy about it. Even Dorne is cooler than this room, Ser Arthur thought and swiped sweat from his brow. Gods be damned with their long summers and days like these. His silken tunic was designed to keep his body cool, but the Red Keep was known to be a hellhole on a warm summer day. And it didn't do him good that the coronation of the lord Arryn was taking ages! The High Septon was talking something about the wisdom of the gods and the responsibility of a king to the gods above, to the lords beside him and to the people below, but Arthur couldn't care less. He hated the High Septon and his annoying voice with its tempo and high pitch. Arthur had hated the man since the day he had arrived to the capital. He remembered that day well. High Septon had been sent to greet him along with some servants and soldiers, and weary from the travel, Arthur had been annoyed by the High Septon. He had started to talk and just had kept on talking and talking. Arthur had almost punched to man to the gut, but had resisted the urge. The hall used for the coronation was the throne room where the Iron Throne was. It is an ugly piece of furniture and really a pain in the ass to sit, Arthur contemplated. The High Septon and Lord Arryn, the king-to-be, were in front of the Throne, standing few feet apart. The lords and ladies were standing all around the throne room. It didn't have many chairs or any other furniture. The High Septon was finishing his speech, and was asking everyone to join in a prayer to the gods, to grant the new king wisdom and a long, prosperous reign. Gods, just strike them down with a bolt of lightning, Arthur prayed. But they didn't, because they didn't listen to him, as always. They never listened to him.</s> <\|message\|>Mychael Mychael Lannister observed the going-on's with mild disinterest. Next to him, Arthur Baratheon seemed to be bored out of his wits. To tell the truth, Mychael was too. The High Septon just kept droning on, and, also sitting next to him, his niece and nephew couldn't sit still and were yapping on and playing games. He took another sip. Alcohol couldn't make them go away, but it could help. He turned to his brother Baldric, who seemed to be sleeping. His wife Alyna was talking to Lord Stark, who was on the other hand watching the going-ons keenly. To each his own. Mychael had been to the last Targaeryen coronation when he was a boy. It had been very grand, and there had even been a Dragon present. It was a babe at the time, but nevertheless. It nearly burnt the king's beard off. That was a good ceremony, a coronation worthy of it's name. And no fucking High Septon. Even Rickard looked bored, and he was about to be the most important person in the realm. He'd put on weight, obviously having visited the pantry several times. Mychael leaned forward. Something appeared to be happening, as the Septon had actually physically moved. This startled the children and woke up Baldric. He had taken the King's crown, and was about to place it on Rickard Arryn's head. It was a thing of beauty. Wrought of silver, eagles and half crescent moons adorned it. The eyes of the eagles had little beads of onyx for eyes. Also given to him was his father's legacy: a Valyrian steel sword, with a black pattern welded blade, and an eagle hilt set with sapphires. He nudged Arthur next to him. "Look, something's happening."</s> <\|message\|>Ser Arthur "Oh really, my lord of Lannister? The High Septon just crowned the king. That means we're one step nearer ending this mummer's coronation" Arthur said back to Mychael. He didn't have much love for the Lannisters, but Mychael seemed all right. He wasn't a fighter like him, but Mychael was like his lord father in many ways. Both had their noses buried deep in ledgers and reports. Arthur was bored by paperwork, but he knew someone had to do it, because soldiers like him depended on them. Somebody had to pay the soldiers and gather money to equip them, to build the roads they marched on. His father, the lord of the Storm's End, had just been chosen to the small council to act as the Master of Coin. He must have been happy to hear that he beat the famed lion of Lannister. "That sword is really a beauty, though" Arthur remarked. "Maybe not as good-looking as my Doom, but still a worthy blade for a king."</s>	<\|message\|>Daemon Targaryen (Aeryx Laeniar) Daemon was sitting near to the back of the coronation, dressed in loose yellow robes. He had yet to be born when his uncle was crowned king, and this was actually his first time seeing the Iron Throne in person. He was far more interested in the titanic seat of iron and steel blades than he was in the coronation itself, and he had toned out the High Septons droning some time ago. He finally looked around the room, trying to determine who was who in the mass of nobles attending the coronation. The Lannisters were unmistakable of course, and he thought he recognized the Starks near the front as well, but he was unsure about the rest. He was mentally making notes about who could be potential allies in Kings Landing but at the moment he didn't see anyone who he knew might be sympathetic to his cause. His attention returned to Rickard Arryn and the High Septon when a murmur rumbled through the room and his eyes were drawn to the silver crown the High Septon was about to ceremoniously place atop Rickards head. He concealed his feelings of disgust at the ornate silver crown, viewing it as all but a direct insult to the crowns of the Targaryen kings, but despite his fury he remained outwardly calm, eyes eventually being drawn to the Lannister lord and someone he was conversing with, assuming the other man must be a highborn lord as well, due to his seating location.</s>
<\|description\|>Valkor "The Impaler" Orion House: Orion (Dead House) Age: 24 Bio/Story: Valkor was born the bastard son of Lord Orion to a house servant. The woman was harsh on him from the beginning, always telling him that he deserved to be Lord of the House, rather than the one legitimate daughter Lord Orion sired in his lifetime. But Valkor was an observant child, and knew trouble would be on its way to his small home soon. The other Houses did not like them, wanted the rash Lord destroyed and his lands torn asunder to further grow their coffers. Eventually, the day came where his father challenged the Lord of Baratheon. As of yet that house had been young, but even to Valkor's young eyes he knew the fight would be foolish. Knowing what would come of his father's drunken rage, the boy stole into one of the barns and fled on horseback. House Orion fell not long after, their words "Look to your Nightmares" lost on the wind, and the bastard son grew to avoid responding to his true name, even though his stark white hair and ice-blue eyes mark him out as an oddity among others. However, his keen sense of self, and sense of events around him have shaped him into a master mercenary. Now a young man, he works only for the noble houses, and though he does not enjoy doing the Lord's dirty work he hopes to make enough ties within the houses to one day rise in power and regain his old homeland. Occupation/Rank: Mercenary, Bastard Heir of Orion Personality: Quiet, Serious, Observant. Valkor is not one to be taken by surprise lightly, and despite the oft offer of a bed and room, he prefers to sleep with his horse in the stables. This is likely due tot he fact that the beast will lash out and attack anyone else who dares get too close. Appearance: Valkor is a tall man, but relatively slim in build. He is a Lancer, with strong arms, but uses the force of his charging steed to do most of the damage. His only other weapon that he keeps on him is a slim rapier, and his armor consists of battered iron gear with a tattered cape. However, if one were to manage to get into his saddle bags they woudl find a complete second set of polished steel armor with a white fur cape, all etched with the rearing Nightmare of House Orion in blue. Other: Despite his cold nature Valkor is not without a heart, and has had it used against him before. His horse is also not what many think it is: just a rather angry animal. That anger can be changed into something far more destructive... KILLABLE (WARNING: DEATH IS FINAL) by others?: YES</s> <\|message\|>Ser Arthur A Web of Lies The King is dead, long live the king! It was already noon, and the coronation had just begun in the Red Keep. Many high lords and ladies far and near were cramped into its throne room, and Ser Arthur Baratheon was one of them. And he wasn't happy about it. Even Dorne is cooler than this room, Ser Arthur thought and swiped sweat from his brow. Gods be damned with their long summers and days like these. His silken tunic was designed to keep his body cool, but the Red Keep was known to be a hellhole on a warm summer day. And it didn't do him good that the coronation of the lord Arryn was taking ages! The High Septon was talking something about the wisdom of the gods and the responsibility of a king to the gods above, to the lords beside him and to the people below, but Arthur couldn't care less. He hated the High Septon and his annoying voice with its tempo and high pitch. Arthur had hated the man since the day he had arrived to the capital. He remembered that day well. High Septon had been sent to greet him along with some servants and soldiers, and weary from the travel, Arthur had been annoyed by the High Septon. He had started to talk and just had kept on talking and talking. Arthur had almost punched to man to the gut, but had resisted the urge. The hall used for the coronation was the throne room where the Iron Throne was. It is an ugly piece of furniture and really a pain in the ass to sit, Arthur contemplated. The High Septon and Lord Arryn, the king-to-be, were in front of the Throne, standing few feet apart. The lords and ladies were standing all around the throne room. It didn't have many chairs or any other furniture. The High Septon was finishing his speech, and was asking everyone to join in a prayer to the gods, to grant the new king wisdom and a long, prosperous reign. Gods, just strike them down with a bolt of lightning, Arthur prayed. But they didn't, because they didn't listen to him, as always. They never listened to him.</s> <\|message\|>Mychael Mychael Lannister observed the going-on's with mild disinterest. Next to him, Arthur Baratheon seemed to be bored out of his wits. To tell the truth, Mychael was too. The High Septon just kept droning on, and, also sitting next to him, his niece and nephew couldn't sit still and were yapping on and playing games. He took another sip. Alcohol couldn't make them go away, but it could help. He turned to his brother Baldric, who seemed to be sleeping. His wife Alyna was talking to Lord Stark, who was on the other hand watching the going-ons keenly. To each his own. Mychael had been to the last Targaeryen coronation when he was a boy. It had been very grand, and there had even been a Dragon present. It was a babe at the time, but nevertheless. It nearly burnt the king's beard off. That was a good ceremony, a coronation worthy of it's name. And no fucking High Septon. Even Rickard looked bored, and he was about to be the most important person in the realm. He'd put on weight, obviously having visited the pantry several times. Mychael leaned forward. Something appeared to be happening, as the Septon had actually physically moved. This startled the children and woke up Baldric. He had taken the King's crown, and was about to place it on Rickard Arryn's head. It was a thing of beauty. Wrought of silver, eagles and half crescent moons adorned it. The eyes of the eagles had little beads of onyx for eyes. Also given to him was his father's legacy: a Valyrian steel sword, with a black pattern welded blade, and an eagle hilt set with sapphires. He nudged Arthur next to him. "Look, something's happening."</s> <\|message\|>Ser Arthur "Oh really, my lord of Lannister? The High Septon just crowned the king. That means we're one step nearer ending this mummer's coronation" Arthur said back to Mychael. He didn't have much love for the Lannisters, but Mychael seemed all right. He wasn't a fighter like him, but Mychael was like his lord father in many ways. Both had their noses buried deep in ledgers and reports. Arthur was bored by paperwork, but he knew someone had to do it, because soldiers like him depended on them. Somebody had to pay the soldiers and gather money to equip them, to build the roads they marched on. His father, the lord of the Storm's End, had just been chosen to the small council to act as the Master of Coin. He must have been happy to hear that he beat the famed lion of Lannister. "That sword is really a beauty, though" Arthur remarked. "Maybe not as good-looking as my Doom, but still a worthy blade for a king."</s> <\|message\|>Daemon Targaryen (Aeryx Laeniar) Daemon was sitting near to the back of the coronation, dressed in loose yellow robes. He had yet to be born when his uncle was crowned king, and this was actually his first time seeing the Iron Throne in person. He was far more interested in the titanic seat of iron and steel blades than he was in the coronation itself, and he had toned out the High Septons droning some time ago. He finally looked around the room, trying to determine who was who in the mass of nobles attending the coronation. The Lannisters were unmistakable of course, and he thought he recognized the Starks near the front as well, but he was unsure about the rest. He was mentally making notes about who could be potential allies in Kings Landing but at the moment he didn't see anyone who he knew might be sympathetic to his cause. His attention returned to Rickard Arryn and the High Septon when a murmur rumbled through the room and his eyes were drawn to the silver crown the High Septon was about to ceremoniously place atop Rickards head. He concealed his feelings of disgust at the ornate silver crown, viewing it as all but a direct insult to the crowns of the Targaryen kings, but despite his fury he remained outwardly calm, eyes eventually being drawn to the Lannister lord and someone he was conversing with, assuming the other man must be a highborn lord as well, due to his seating location.</s> <\|message\|>Mychael "Maybe not as good-looking as my Doom, but still a worthy blade for a king." "Certainly better than Widowmaker, Baldric's sword," Mychael jested. Baldric had taken three wives and left each one, generating controversy. Mychael called his sword the Widowmaker. He felt like someone was watching him. He looked around the room and saw something that caught his attention. "White hair," he muttered. Unmistakeable. The lad stood taller than the others around him, with long flowing hair and... yes, purple eyes. For some reason he was wearing robes that made him look like a foreign diplomat, some Essosi or something. He was looking straight at them, and though Mychael pretended not to look at him, he saw all he was doing. "Don't look, Lord Baratheon, but someone's watching us. A dragon."</s> <\|message\|>Ser Arthur Arthur was watching the Iron Throne and the king as he was walking up the steps to sit on the throne. He heard what the Lannister said, and felt an urge to look what he was talking about, but instead, he tried to keep his calm. "A dragon, Lord Lannister? Are you kidding with me?" he said with a whisker of amusement. He didn't take his eyes from the king. "There hasn't been fire-breathing dragons in Westeros for almost quarter of a century, let alone a Targaryen in this hall for like fifteen years!" Arthur had been born under the rulership of the last Targaryen king, yet he had been toppled from his throne before his tenth name day. He had been told that the Targaryens were wicked kings who drank wildfire as wine. He didn't knew about that, but Arbor gold was a much better choice. "Just go to talk to him, Lannister, and get it over with" he said and turned to Lord Lannister. "You should get yourself introduced with him and if he's a Targaryen, then you can turn him up to the crown."</s>	<\|message\|>Valkor "The Impaler" Orion Dead. All of them were dead. Or would be anyway... Valkor scanned the crowd with a practiced eye, one hand on the hilt of his rapier as always. If anyone would bother to look in the direction of the cowled guard at the door, they would find much more than what they expected. But he was a master at diverting attention from himself. A master at disembowling a man where he stood, and then leaving the corpse for the beasts to tear apart and devour. However, his attention was diverted from scanning the ceremonies for anything out of place when he noticed his current liege-lord glancing at a strange man standing near the back of the room on his right. Sliding his gaze over the crowd again, Valkor made as if to stretch and let his ice-blue eyes rake across this new source of interest. A strange man with white hair and violet eyes. Some sort of diplomat by the looks. Was he trouble? Letting his arms fall back down to his sides from his feigned stretch, Valkor lowered his head and let his gaze focus on his lord. The man was good at sensing when someone had their eyes on him. All he had to do was nod in his direction, and Valkor would tail the man out of the ceremony. His sword hand twitched and Valkor spread his feet a little bit further apart as he braced his back against the wall, head lowered even further. To onlookers, it might seem as if he had dozed off. But his gaze remained on Lord Lannister, awaiting orders. Somewhere outside, he heard the thunder of impatient hooves. The war-cry of a beast untamed, and screaming to be set free.</s>
<\|description\|>Maya Age: not sure... around 17 or 18 she guesses... Weapons: Knife, Small Pistol, Bart (see below) Brief Bio: Maya was once a Little Sister. She was cured by Delta, but left behind accidently when Eleanor left with several cured Little Sisters. Since then she had grown up in Rapture, and grown up quickly. Maya doesn't remember anything about her time before being a Little Sister. She searched through what was left of Fontaine's Orphanage and found the files of all the Little Sisters, but nothing that that was familiar to her. So she took on the name Maya, an name created from the initials of the four girls in files she found without pictures, as she might be any one of them. A stroke of luck for Maya was that when she was cured a Big Daddy still stuck around. She was able to bond with it and it has protected her. (See Bart's CS below for more info) She is very quick and light on her feet. Maya set up a base in Pauper's Drop, but spends most of her time scavenging for food and parts for Bart in other parts of Rapture. She never stays in one place very long, constantly moving about. Other:[youtube]9aRlxHtB0pg[/youtube] (ignore the Little Sister at his side please) Name: Big Daddy, but Maya calls him Bart Age: on the old side Weapons: Drill, Brute Strength, Rage... nuf said Brief Bio: For some unknown reason Bart decided to bond with Maya and has been protecting her ever since. He doesn't have much of a thought process : walk, protect Maya, walk more, look around, protect Maya, walk... you get the idea. He has been her protector and only friend for years, but now Bart is starting to break down. Maya tries to fix him but she is not a mechanic. She knows it is only a matter of time before Bart shuts down for good... and that terrifies her. Other: nothing really... a Big Daddy is pretty straight forward...</s> <\|message\|>Maya Maya - Medical Pavilion - Bart/Splicers The girl turned away from the window. She had been watching the sea life swim by, sometimes seeing a massive shark. But it didn't pay to watch the scenery too long in Rapture. The great underwater city was a city of death and horror. If you didn't understand that, you didn't last long. She heard the lunatic screams of a female splicer and shrugged. Scavenging wasn't easy, especially in the Medical Pavilion. Steinman's patients and coworkers were still running around. A few even had grenades which they tossed around like confet- BOOM Like that. Maya sighed and rolled her eyes. At least she could tell when they were coming. Sure enough, one of the crazy freaks came around the corner and spotted her. He shouted something at her she didn't even try to understand anymore. He tossed one of his grenades at her, but she dived behind and counter and avoided the debris as it went off. She heard him coming and pulled out her knife. She wasn't going to waste the little ammo she had on this guy. Seconds later she heard a loud groan and the splicer start choking. Smiling, she came out from under the counter to see a Big Daddy choking the life from her would-be attacker. When his face turned purple the Big Daddy threw him across the room, slamming him into a wall. He slid to the floor and didn't move. "Thanks Bart," she said, patting the old Big Daddy on the arm. He made a noise that she always assumed was a hum of approval and the color of the lights on his helmet when from angry red to neutral yellow. Maya examined the grenade box the splicer had been carrying, then looted his body. He hadn't had much : two grenades, some chips and a few dollars. She could use the money in a vending machine for some food she supposed. She'd add it to her stash. The odd pair headed out of the Medical Pavilion, the girl eating the chips and the giant metal man lumbering slowly behind her. Several splicers saw them, but didn't dare attack the girl. They didn't want to risk the wrath of a Big Daddy, especially one with a large drill for an arm. Maya stopped along their path and Bart stopped with her, waiting patiently. Pulling out her knife, Maya did what she always did when she left an area : she scratched a message into the wall. She had left the same message her multiple times so she just deepened the words so that anyone who came across them knew they were fresh. She didn't know why she left the message. Maybe a feeble hope that some day someone who wasn't a crazy spliced up psycho would see them and find her. A cured Little Sister perhaps, or maybe someone who was like her, struggling to survive down here. Someone she hadn't come across yet. Either way, it was a habit now. One that she hoped would pay off one day. The message: I AM ALIVE - M</s> <\|message\|>Angelo Ortega Angelo Ortega-lighthouse 26-bathasphere Angelo was getting transported to a lighthouse off the pacific ocean. Angelo was a great mechanic and he was recognized as such by the state and as a result he was told he would be fixing an important lighthouse in the ocean, obviously Angelo was hesitant in doing so but they pushed his buttons saying he was to young for the job and of course Angelo felt he needed to prove he was just as good if not better then any federal mechanic. Angelo was being dropped off by a speed boat and all his repair supplies were in the bag next to him they kept saying that their was a problem with both its bulb and its support in the oceans current so he needed to work on a way to keep it afloat so he needed to go to its basement and check to see if the water was going in. Once Angelo got onto its small dock which in reality was just some wood going out towards the sea from the stairs leading inside the lighthouse he started walking inside seeing the large metal doors and at first Angelo knocked then it just creepily opened "ah now this is classic" Angelo said softly sighing a little as he took out his shotgun from his bag obviously being suspicious of whatever was in the shadows he started walking up the stairs to the top of the lighthouse and he was seeing some memorabilia about a place of freedom and where all men were left to their own devices, obviously Angelo couldn't care less as long as he did his job. Angelo got to the top and he found the light bulb not shinning in the sky so he found the fuse box nearby and he changed a few wires and turned on the power to the entire lighthouse and Angelo believed they just sent him to do an idiots job. Angelo soon went all the way back down towards the basement and Angelo could see a submarine or some sort of sphere in a small pool, obviously this lighthouse was used for more then just lighting a way for the ships that would pass and was probably used by divers in the 70s considering how old it looked. Angelo looked around and used some plastering mold on the walls where it sprung a leak and Angelo curiosity got to him since it seemed so old it may be a good relic to take to a museum. Angelo walked into the bathosphere and saw it close behind him Angelo tried to get out but then it did a scan and it said unidentified user, unidentified user Angelo thought that seemed pretty advanced for something so old so Angelo walked to a small panel and Angelo started to twist some wires and it did a scan again and this time said welcome Mr. fontaine please enjoy the ride Angelo said "what the hell I wanted you to let me out!" Angelo groaned but sat down as the bathosphere started to take him down where Angelo started to see a city at the bottom of the sea...</s> <\|message\|>Mr. Bubbles and Olivia Olivia and Mr. Bubbles - The streets of Rapture - Splicers and 'angels' Olivia was happily skipping along a glass corridor, humming a merry tune in time to the thuds of Mr. Bubbles' footsteps. Mr. Bubbles was lumbering after his little sister, looking around for any signs of danger. They happened along a corpse. But in Olivia's eyes, it was a sleeping angel. "Look look!" Olivia said excitedly "It's an angel!". Olivia skipped over to the 'angel' to gather ADAM. but as she did so, 4 spider splicers dropped onto Mr. Bubbles and began clawing at him with their hooks. While this was happening a pair of brutes came out of hiding and tried to grab Olivia. Olivia cried out in fear, causing Mr. Bubbles' helmet lights to turn red. He threw 1 spider splicer to the ground and crushed its head beneath his boot. Mr. Bubbles shot the 2nd spider into the air with his rocket launcher and watched as it blew up like a firework. The 3rd and 4th had the sense to run, but were gunned down by the mini-turret Mr. Bubbles deployed for the brutes. When Mr. Bubbles turned his attention to the brutes they abandoned their pursuit of Olivia and instead attacked Mr. Bubbles, who grabbed their heads and bashed them together until he saw skull. When it was over, Olivia ran over to Mr. Bubbles and hugged his leg. Mr. Bubbles knelt down and hugged Olivia back before picking her up and carrying her on his shoulders away from the scene.</s> <\|message\|>BurnHeart BurnHeart - The Streets of Rapture - Another Big Daddy RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHG! BurnHeart was loudly lumbering through the streets, his drill making loud obnoxious noises as it randomly turned on and off. His gun was slung across his back but was easy enough to whip out should a melee fight overwhelm him. As he prowled through the streets, another Big Daddy paired with a little sister saw BurnHeart and grunted in disgust before walking away into a complex. He took note of the Big Daddy's ragged suit and lack of little sister. It was almost a sign of misconduct for a Big Daddy to not have one, or at least it was a way for them to rank their kind being their rather lack of real smarts. BurnHeart however was as ravenous as an animal and he heard the steps of the other Big Daddy echo across the streets he raised his drill into the air and it make a horrible screaming buzz as it spun through the air. It made the other little sister shriek. The big daddy that entered the complex was aware of this and in a bright flash his helmet turned red and he spun back to face his challenger. "GRAAAAAAAHH" BurnHeart shouted, stumbling towards the unnamed Big Daddy. The other Big Daddy braced himself for the brute force of a Rosie but instead found the sharp force of a drill being pressed against his arm. It broke the suit and began drilling into the Big Daddy's grafted arm. It was the Big Daddies turn to scream. BurnHeart raised his arm and swung it down at the other Big Daddy's head, crumpling it. He raised his Ion Laser from his back at fired it twice at the Big daddy's head, to break the suit and then to break the grafted head inside. He then raised his head and looked around for the Little Sister. It was to no avail, she escaped when her Big Daddy crumpled. BurnHeart took one last look at the Big Daddy and raised the laser one more time. He fired it at the big daddy's chest, leaving a smoking hole. It was unknown even to BurnHeart what impulsed him to do this to his victims, but none the less it would cause terror to see a Big Daddy killed in this way. He then screamed and started in a run down the street, trying to find the escaped little sister.</s> <\|message\|>Mr. Bubbles and Olivia Olivia and Mr. Bubbles - The streets of Rapture - Each other Mr. Bubbles stopped when he heard the sound of BurnHeart roaring somewhere in the distance. On his shoulders, he could feel Olivia begin to shake with fear. "It's him" Olivia whimpered "He's coming this way!". Mr. Bubbles attempted to comfort Olivia, but then a 2nd roar echoed through the street they were walking through. This time it was closer. "We have to hide!" Olivia insisted before jumping off Mr. Bubbles and running into a nearby shop. Mr. Bubbles looked in the direction of the roar. Their last encounter with BurnHeart almost cost Olivia and Mr. Bubbles their lives. Mr. Bubbles wasn't eager for round 2. Mr. Bubbles turned back towards the shop where Olivia had gone to hide and walked in after her.</s>	<\|message\|>Maya Maya - Streets of Rapture - Bart, unknown A horrific scream made Maya's blood turn to ice, freezing her in her tracks. What... was...? Bart made a noise of warning, his drill arm rising in front of them. Maya patted his arm, trying to calm him. If they ran into anything other then splicers Bart would have a hard time and would be in even worse shape. "It's okay," she said soothingly. "Whatever it is, it isn't going to bother us," she said, praying that was true. "Let's just start heading for home okay?" As they moved cautiously towards the train that would take them towards Pauper's Drop, Maya listened for any other sound from whatever that thing had been. It certainly hadn't been a Little Sister and it hadn't sounded like a Splicer either. It had sounded almost like a Big Daddy, but not how they were supposed to sound. Maybe Bart wasn't the only Big Daddy that was falling into disrepair. It wouldn't surprise her. They had found several bodies of Big Daddies that had been mutilated and picked apart for loot and pieces of their weapons and armor. The curious thing had been that some of them had large holes on their chests. It was nerve-racking, but then when you lived in a hell like Rapture nerve-racking was normal. A high-pitched alarm startled Maya and she dropped her bag to cover her ears. A bright light illuminated her, hurting her eyes. Damn security camera! She had walked right into it's line of sight! Even with Ryan dead and gone the cameras still worked. The light and noise was gone a moment later when Bart ripped the thing off of the wall and stomped on it, crushing it to pieces under his heavy boot. "Thank you," Maya said and quickly grabbed her bag. They needed to move quicker now because if anything or anyone was nearby the noise from the camera was like a dinner bell clanging, an alert to a possible target.</s>
<\|description\|>Maya Age: not sure... around 17 or 18 she guesses... Weapons: Knife, Small Pistol, Bart (see below) Brief Bio: Maya was once a Little Sister. She was cured by Delta, but left behind accidently when Eleanor left with several cured Little Sisters. Since then she had grown up in Rapture, and grown up quickly. Maya doesn't remember anything about her time before being a Little Sister. She searched through what was left of Fontaine's Orphanage and found the files of all the Little Sisters, but nothing that that was familiar to her. So she took on the name Maya, an name created from the initials of the four girls in files she found without pictures, as she might be any one of them. A stroke of luck for Maya was that when she was cured a Big Daddy still stuck around. She was able to bond with it and it has protected her. (See Bart's CS below for more info) She is very quick and light on her feet. Maya set up a base in Pauper's Drop, but spends most of her time scavenging for food and parts for Bart in other parts of Rapture. She never stays in one place very long, constantly moving about. Other:[youtube]9aRlxHtB0pg[/youtube] (ignore the Little Sister at his side please) Name: Big Daddy, but Maya calls him Bart Age: on the old side Weapons: Drill, Brute Strength, Rage... nuf said Brief Bio: For some unknown reason Bart decided to bond with Maya and has been protecting her ever since. He doesn't have much of a thought process : walk, protect Maya, walk more, look around, protect Maya, walk... you get the idea. He has been her protector and only friend for years, but now Bart is starting to break down. Maya tries to fix him but she is not a mechanic. She knows it is only a matter of time before Bart shuts down for good... and that terrifies her. Other: nothing really... a Big Daddy is pretty straight forward...</s> <\|message\|>Mr. Bubbles and Olivia Olivia and Mr. Bubbles - The streets of Rapture - Splicers and 'angels' Olivia was happily skipping along a glass corridor, humming a merry tune in time to the thuds of Mr. Bubbles' footsteps. Mr. Bubbles was lumbering after his little sister, looking around for any signs of danger. They happened along a corpse. But in Olivia's eyes, it was a sleeping angel. "Look look!" Olivia said excitedly "It's an angel!". Olivia skipped over to the 'angel' to gather ADAM. but as she did so, 4 spider splicers dropped onto Mr. Bubbles and began clawing at him with their hooks. While this was happening a pair of brutes came out of hiding and tried to grab Olivia. Olivia cried out in fear, causing Mr. Bubbles' helmet lights to turn red. He threw 1 spider splicer to the ground and crushed its head beneath his boot. Mr. Bubbles shot the 2nd spider into the air with his rocket launcher and watched as it blew up like a firework. The 3rd and 4th had the sense to run, but were gunned down by the mini-turret Mr. Bubbles deployed for the brutes. When Mr. Bubbles turned his attention to the brutes they abandoned their pursuit of Olivia and instead attacked Mr. Bubbles, who grabbed their heads and bashed them together until he saw skull. When it was over, Olivia ran over to Mr. Bubbles and hugged his leg. Mr. Bubbles knelt down and hugged Olivia back before picking her up and carrying her on his shoulders away from the scene.</s> <\|message\|>BurnHeart BurnHeart - The Streets of Rapture - Another Big Daddy RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHG! BurnHeart was loudly lumbering through the streets, his drill making loud obnoxious noises as it randomly turned on and off. His gun was slung across his back but was easy enough to whip out should a melee fight overwhelm him. As he prowled through the streets, another Big Daddy paired with a little sister saw BurnHeart and grunted in disgust before walking away into a complex. He took note of the Big Daddy's ragged suit and lack of little sister. It was almost a sign of misconduct for a Big Daddy to not have one, or at least it was a way for them to rank their kind being their rather lack of real smarts. BurnHeart however was as ravenous as an animal and he heard the steps of the other Big Daddy echo across the streets he raised his drill into the air and it make a horrible screaming buzz as it spun through the air. It made the other little sister shriek. The big daddy that entered the complex was aware of this and in a bright flash his helmet turned red and he spun back to face his challenger. "GRAAAAAAAHH" BurnHeart shouted, stumbling towards the unnamed Big Daddy. The other Big Daddy braced himself for the brute force of a Rosie but instead found the sharp force of a drill being pressed against his arm. It broke the suit and began drilling into the Big Daddy's grafted arm. It was the Big Daddies turn to scream. BurnHeart raised his arm and swung it down at the other Big Daddy's head, crumpling it. He raised his Ion Laser from his back at fired it twice at the Big daddy's head, to break the suit and then to break the grafted head inside. He then raised his head and looked around for the Little Sister. It was to no avail, she escaped when her Big Daddy crumpled. BurnHeart took one last look at the Big Daddy and raised the laser one more time. He fired it at the big daddy's chest, leaving a smoking hole. It was unknown even to BurnHeart what impulsed him to do this to his victims, but none the less it would cause terror to see a Big Daddy killed in this way. He then screamed and started in a run down the street, trying to find the escaped little sister.</s> <\|message\|>Mr. Bubbles and Olivia Olivia and Mr. Bubbles - The streets of Rapture - Each other Mr. Bubbles stopped when he heard the sound of BurnHeart roaring somewhere in the distance. On his shoulders, he could feel Olivia begin to shake with fear. "It's him" Olivia whimpered "He's coming this way!". Mr. Bubbles attempted to comfort Olivia, but then a 2nd roar echoed through the street they were walking through. This time it was closer. "We have to hide!" Olivia insisted before jumping off Mr. Bubbles and running into a nearby shop. Mr. Bubbles looked in the direction of the roar. Their last encounter with BurnHeart almost cost Olivia and Mr. Bubbles their lives. Mr. Bubbles wasn't eager for round 2. Mr. Bubbles turned back towards the shop where Olivia had gone to hide and walked in after her.</s> <\|message\|>Maya Maya - Streets of Rapture - Bart, unknown A horrific scream made Maya's blood turn to ice, freezing her in her tracks. What... was...? Bart made a noise of warning, his drill arm rising in front of them. Maya patted his arm, trying to calm him. If they ran into anything other then splicers Bart would have a hard time and would be in even worse shape. "It's okay," she said soothingly. "Whatever it is, it isn't going to bother us," she said, praying that was true. "Let's just start heading for home okay?" As they moved cautiously towards the train that would take them towards Pauper's Drop, Maya listened for any other sound from whatever that thing had been. It certainly hadn't been a Little Sister and it hadn't sounded like a Splicer either. It had sounded almost like a Big Daddy, but not how they were supposed to sound. Maybe Bart wasn't the only Big Daddy that was falling into disrepair. It wouldn't surprise her. They had found several bodies of Big Daddies that had been mutilated and picked apart for loot and pieces of their weapons and armor. The curious thing had been that some of them had large holes on their chests. It was nerve-racking, but then when you lived in a hell like Rapture nerve-racking was normal. A high-pitched alarm startled Maya and she dropped her bag to cover her ears. A bright light illuminated her, hurting her eyes. Damn security camera! She had walked right into it's line of sight! Even with Ryan dead and gone the cameras still worked. The light and noise was gone a moment later when Bart ripped the thing off of the wall and stomped on it, crushing it to pieces under his heavy boot. "Thank you," Maya said and quickly grabbed her bag. They needed to move quicker now because if anything or anyone was nearby the noise from the camera was like a dinner bell clanging, an alert to a possible target.</s> <\|message\|>BurnHeart BurnHeart - Streets of Rapture - The Unfortunate... BurnHeart swung his head around to look for the Camera he heard but he caught a hint of motion in the street he was now running down. He took a moment to process this information and he thought he had the most chance of finding a victim on... The distinct screech of a door opening caught BurnHeart's attention. His mind echoed with rage and he screamed ferociously. The noise of the door was screeching through his mind and it made him furious. Instead of following the basic train of thought that he was beginning to formulate he sprinted through the street, traveling to the source of the noise in four bounding leaps. He looked through the window but was unable to conclude if anything was in it. He made a low rumbling noise of curiosity similar to that of other Big Daddies. It also had a hint of sadness that one could detect in his voice always, just now more observable. His lights flashed bright yellow for a second before bounding back to the deep red. He stuck his head through a gash in the window and once again saw nothing. His voice returning to a bone chilling scream he bounded through the window, shattering the glass. He looked around, but he yet again just could not find anything. He refused for that to be the answer. He began tearing the shop apart, looking for his prey.</s> <\|message\|>Mason Lockwood Mason – Streets of Rapture — Himself Water had filled his lungs. The exploration team he had been assigned on was dead; at least that's the only logical assumption. The team he had joined were sent to find the undisclosed location directly, while others searched topside for clues as to the natural entryway into…well, where they were going, what they were finding was never told to Mason. He was just there to help out with maintenance. A simple task. The small expedition sub carried only a handful of people, many of which were scientist or smart people who obviously got more than a college degree. Of all those people, all those important individuals, Mason couldn't help wonder why a loser like himself survived. If he survives, that is. As he lay on his side, Mason began to cough violently, water and saliva spewing out of his mouth. He took several long and deep gasps, trying to catch as much breath as he could. After several minutes, he was able to muster up an ounce of composure and strength to push his body up with his hands. He looked behind him, staring in disbelief at the airtight door that he had struggled to open. Just a few moments ago he was on the other side of that door; he was deep in the ocean, frantically trying to get the door to open. Before Mason could attempt to even stand on his feet a sudden rush of pain shot through his right arm. His arm gave out and he fell back onto the cold steel floor. He must have injured himself in the escape. Okay, he thought to himself, gotta go, gotta find out where I am… With some effort, he managed to rise to his feet, holding his right arm with his left in an effort to ease the pain. He stared forward at the second airlock and took in a deep breath before unlocking it. He could hear the gears turning as the door started to open up, revealing a dark room. He took a single step and immediately felt a chill run through his body. There's death in this place. Not just the room, but the whole structure in its entirety. Something wasn't right about this place, wherever the hell it is. Still, there was nowhere to go, nowhere to run. Mason continued through the room, not paying any attention to the multitude of oversized diving suits and helmets hanging on the walls. He reached a normal door and pushed it open, revealing something he was unprepared to see. It was a street. A dirty, filthy, rundown street. It bore an uncanny resemblance to some of the streets he'd see back home. But, he's not home; he's miles upon miles deep in the Atlantic Ocean. "Christ…" he uttered under his breath. As his mind was processing all he was seeing, Mason's whole body froze, his heart pounding erratically in his chest. In the distance, there came a bone chilling groan that was now all too familiar to Mason. This was the noise he had heard before something, or someone, attacked their sub. "Ffffuck."</s> <\|message\|>Mr. Bubbles and Olivia Olivia and Mr. Bubbles - Abandoned shop - BurnHeart and little sister vent By the time BurnHeart entered the shop Olivia and Mr. Bubbles were near the back of the shop. Olivia was cowering in fear as BurnHeart began to tear the shop apart. Seeing Olivia afraid caused Mr. Bubbles' protective instincts to kick in. Mr. Bubbles sprang from hiding and attacked. 1st he deployed his mini turret, which began firing on BurnHeart. Mr. Bubbles then started firing heat seeking rockets at BurnHeart in an attempt to bring down the frenzied daddy as quickly as possible. While this was happening, Olivia spotted a little sister vent outside the shop. Moving quickly, she slipped past the fighting, left the shop, and climbed into the vent.</s>	<\|message\|>Maya Maya - In Route to Pauper's Drop - Bart The sound of fighting reached them. It sounded like two Big Daddies fighting. But how could that be? Big Daddies pretty much ignored each other. Unless... could one have tried to take the sister of another? But how would that make any sense? Whatever was happening they did not need to be around for it. Maya grabbed Bart's hand, just in case he decided he needed to investigate, and ran for it. They had to get home while whoever was fighting was distracted. The problem was Bart was moving even slower then usual. Maya swore under her breath. He needed hydralic fluid for his limbs to function. It must be running low again. That meant scavenging for what she could find. The closest place was the Welcome Center. It had a Maintenance section. She could only pray it had some fluid, because if she had to go on without Bart... Maya shuddered. She had survived too long to die now.</s>
<\|description\|>Mr. Bubbles and Olivia Olivia's age: 10 Mr. Bubbles' age: N/A Olivia's occupation: Little sister Mr. Bubbles' occupation: Big daddy. Olivia's weapons: Her ADAM needle and Mr. Bubbles Mr. Bubbles' weapons: His mini-turrets, his heat-seeking rocket launcher, and his fists Bio: The story of these 2 begins 5 years before the start point of this RP. Olivia was running for her life. A group of leadhead splicers were in hot pursuit after killing her previous big daddy. Olivia ran round a corner and straight into an bondless Mr. Bubbles. Upon seeing the leadheads, Mr. Bubbles shielded Olivia from the bullets with his own body. Mr. Bubbles then took down the splicers and bonded with Olivia. They have been wandering the streets of rapture ever since. Other info about Olivia: If she wants to, Olivia can stop Mr. Bubbles from attacking perceived threats, so long as they keep their distance. Other info about Mr. Bubbles: Olivia gave him the name and the splicers have learned to fear that name. Along with all the rest of the damage caused to Mr. Bubbles during his many fights with splicers, there's a hole in his helmet through which you can see his face...if you can get close enough, that is.</s> <\|message\|>Mr. Bubbles and Olivia Olivia and Mr. Bubbles - The streets of Rapture - Splicers and 'angels' Olivia was happily skipping along a glass corridor, humming a merry tune in time to the thuds of Mr. Bubbles' footsteps. Mr. Bubbles was lumbering after his little sister, looking around for any signs of danger. They happened along a corpse. But in Olivia's eyes, it was a sleeping angel. "Look look!" Olivia said excitedly "It's an angel!". Olivia skipped over to the 'angel' to gather ADAM. but as she did so, 4 spider splicers dropped onto Mr. Bubbles and began clawing at him with their hooks. While this was happening a pair of brutes came out of hiding and tried to grab Olivia. Olivia cried out in fear, causing Mr. Bubbles' helmet lights to turn red. He threw 1 spider splicer to the ground and crushed its head beneath his boot. Mr. Bubbles shot the 2nd spider into the air with his rocket launcher and watched as it blew up like a firework. The 3rd and 4th had the sense to run, but were gunned down by the mini-turret Mr. Bubbles deployed for the brutes. When Mr. Bubbles turned his attention to the brutes they abandoned their pursuit of Olivia and instead attacked Mr. Bubbles, who grabbed their heads and bashed them together until he saw skull. When it was over, Olivia ran over to Mr. Bubbles and hugged his leg. Mr. Bubbles knelt down and hugged Olivia back before picking her up and carrying her on his shoulders away from the scene.</s> <\|message\|>BurnHeart BurnHeart - The Streets of Rapture - Another Big Daddy RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHG! BurnHeart was loudly lumbering through the streets, his drill making loud obnoxious noises as it randomly turned on and off. His gun was slung across his back but was easy enough to whip out should a melee fight overwhelm him. As he prowled through the streets, another Big Daddy paired with a little sister saw BurnHeart and grunted in disgust before walking away into a complex. He took note of the Big Daddy's ragged suit and lack of little sister. It was almost a sign of misconduct for a Big Daddy to not have one, or at least it was a way for them to rank their kind being their rather lack of real smarts. BurnHeart however was as ravenous as an animal and he heard the steps of the other Big Daddy echo across the streets he raised his drill into the air and it make a horrible screaming buzz as it spun through the air. It made the other little sister shriek. The big daddy that entered the complex was aware of this and in a bright flash his helmet turned red and he spun back to face his challenger. "GRAAAAAAAHH" BurnHeart shouted, stumbling towards the unnamed Big Daddy. The other Big Daddy braced himself for the brute force of a Rosie but instead found the sharp force of a drill being pressed against his arm. It broke the suit and began drilling into the Big Daddy's grafted arm. It was the Big Daddies turn to scream. BurnHeart raised his arm and swung it down at the other Big Daddy's head, crumpling it. He raised his Ion Laser from his back at fired it twice at the Big daddy's head, to break the suit and then to break the grafted head inside. He then raised his head and looked around for the Little Sister. It was to no avail, she escaped when her Big Daddy crumpled. BurnHeart took one last look at the Big Daddy and raised the laser one more time. He fired it at the big daddy's chest, leaving a smoking hole. It was unknown even to BurnHeart what impulsed him to do this to his victims, but none the less it would cause terror to see a Big Daddy killed in this way. He then screamed and started in a run down the street, trying to find the escaped little sister.</s> <\|message\|>Mr. Bubbles and Olivia Olivia and Mr. Bubbles - The streets of Rapture - Each other Mr. Bubbles stopped when he heard the sound of BurnHeart roaring somewhere in the distance. On his shoulders, he could feel Olivia begin to shake with fear. "It's him" Olivia whimpered "He's coming this way!". Mr. Bubbles attempted to comfort Olivia, but then a 2nd roar echoed through the street they were walking through. This time it was closer. "We have to hide!" Olivia insisted before jumping off Mr. Bubbles and running into a nearby shop. Mr. Bubbles looked in the direction of the roar. Their last encounter with BurnHeart almost cost Olivia and Mr. Bubbles their lives. Mr. Bubbles wasn't eager for round 2. Mr. Bubbles turned back towards the shop where Olivia had gone to hide and walked in after her.</s> <\|message\|>Maya Maya - Streets of Rapture - Bart, unknown A horrific scream made Maya's blood turn to ice, freezing her in her tracks. What... was...? Bart made a noise of warning, his drill arm rising in front of them. Maya patted his arm, trying to calm him. If they ran into anything other then splicers Bart would have a hard time and would be in even worse shape. "It's okay," she said soothingly. "Whatever it is, it isn't going to bother us," she said, praying that was true. "Let's just start heading for home okay?" As they moved cautiously towards the train that would take them towards Pauper's Drop, Maya listened for any other sound from whatever that thing had been. It certainly hadn't been a Little Sister and it hadn't sounded like a Splicer either. It had sounded almost like a Big Daddy, but not how they were supposed to sound. Maybe Bart wasn't the only Big Daddy that was falling into disrepair. It wouldn't surprise her. They had found several bodies of Big Daddies that had been mutilated and picked apart for loot and pieces of their weapons and armor. The curious thing had been that some of them had large holes on their chests. It was nerve-racking, but then when you lived in a hell like Rapture nerve-racking was normal. A high-pitched alarm startled Maya and she dropped her bag to cover her ears. A bright light illuminated her, hurting her eyes. Damn security camera! She had walked right into it's line of sight! Even with Ryan dead and gone the cameras still worked. The light and noise was gone a moment later when Bart ripped the thing off of the wall and stomped on it, crushing it to pieces under his heavy boot. "Thank you," Maya said and quickly grabbed her bag. They needed to move quicker now because if anything or anyone was nearby the noise from the camera was like a dinner bell clanging, an alert to a possible target.</s> <\|message\|>BurnHeart BurnHeart - Streets of Rapture - The Unfortunate... BurnHeart swung his head around to look for the Camera he heard but he caught a hint of motion in the street he was now running down. He took a moment to process this information and he thought he had the most chance of finding a victim on... The distinct screech of a door opening caught BurnHeart's attention. His mind echoed with rage and he screamed ferociously. The noise of the door was screeching through his mind and it made him furious. Instead of following the basic train of thought that he was beginning to formulate he sprinted through the street, traveling to the source of the noise in four bounding leaps. He looked through the window but was unable to conclude if anything was in it. He made a low rumbling noise of curiosity similar to that of other Big Daddies. It also had a hint of sadness that one could detect in his voice always, just now more observable. His lights flashed bright yellow for a second before bounding back to the deep red. He stuck his head through a gash in the window and once again saw nothing. His voice returning to a bone chilling scream he bounded through the window, shattering the glass. He looked around, but he yet again just could not find anything. He refused for that to be the answer. He began tearing the shop apart, looking for his prey.</s> <\|message\|>Mason Lockwood Mason – Streets of Rapture — Himself Water had filled his lungs. The exploration team he had been assigned on was dead; at least that's the only logical assumption. The team he had joined were sent to find the undisclosed location directly, while others searched topside for clues as to the natural entryway into…well, where they were going, what they were finding was never told to Mason. He was just there to help out with maintenance. A simple task. The small expedition sub carried only a handful of people, many of which were scientist or smart people who obviously got more than a college degree. Of all those people, all those important individuals, Mason couldn't help wonder why a loser like himself survived. If he survives, that is. As he lay on his side, Mason began to cough violently, water and saliva spewing out of his mouth. He took several long and deep gasps, trying to catch as much breath as he could. After several minutes, he was able to muster up an ounce of composure and strength to push his body up with his hands. He looked behind him, staring in disbelief at the airtight door that he had struggled to open. Just a few moments ago he was on the other side of that door; he was deep in the ocean, frantically trying to get the door to open. Before Mason could attempt to even stand on his feet a sudden rush of pain shot through his right arm. His arm gave out and he fell back onto the cold steel floor. He must have injured himself in the escape. Okay, he thought to himself, gotta go, gotta find out where I am… With some effort, he managed to rise to his feet, holding his right arm with his left in an effort to ease the pain. He stared forward at the second airlock and took in a deep breath before unlocking it. He could hear the gears turning as the door started to open up, revealing a dark room. He took a single step and immediately felt a chill run through his body. There's death in this place. Not just the room, but the whole structure in its entirety. Something wasn't right about this place, wherever the hell it is. Still, there was nowhere to go, nowhere to run. Mason continued through the room, not paying any attention to the multitude of oversized diving suits and helmets hanging on the walls. He reached a normal door and pushed it open, revealing something he was unprepared to see. It was a street. A dirty, filthy, rundown street. It bore an uncanny resemblance to some of the streets he'd see back home. But, he's not home; he's miles upon miles deep in the Atlantic Ocean. "Christ…" he uttered under his breath. As his mind was processing all he was seeing, Mason's whole body froze, his heart pounding erratically in his chest. In the distance, there came a bone chilling groan that was now all too familiar to Mason. This was the noise he had heard before something, or someone, attacked their sub. "Ffffuck."</s>	<\|message\|>Mr. Bubbles and Olivia Olivia and Mr. Bubbles - Abandoned shop - BurnHeart and little sister vent By the time BurnHeart entered the shop Olivia and Mr. Bubbles were near the back of the shop. Olivia was cowering in fear as BurnHeart began to tear the shop apart. Seeing Olivia afraid caused Mr. Bubbles' protective instincts to kick in. Mr. Bubbles sprang from hiding and attacked. 1st he deployed his mini turret, which began firing on BurnHeart. Mr. Bubbles then started firing heat seeking rockets at BurnHeart in an attempt to bring down the frenzied daddy as quickly as possible. While this was happening, Olivia spotted a little sister vent outside the shop. Moving quickly, she slipped past the fighting, left the shop, and climbed into the vent.</s>
<\|description\|>Mason Lockwood Age: 20 Occupation: Mechanic/Handyman Weapons: A monkey wrench Abilities / Plasmids : TBA Brief Bio: Mason had a pretty average upbringing but was taught early in life to be independent and not rely on others so much. He learned the value of working toward your goal, mostly through hard labor. His dad took pride in having a son among all daughters and would often take time to teach the boy practical skills. His father passed away before he graduated High School and he went on to work odd jobs for his Uncle. He enjoyed his work but found he was getting bored of his average lifestyle and job. He began experimenting with various substances and became addicted. After months, he cleaned up his act in order to get a job and make a living for himself. Eventually, he landed a job working as a handyman in a research lab of sorts. One day, a man from the facility approached him, searching for his boss in hopes that he could accompany a small team of researchers on an underwater expedition. As luck would have it, his boss was out on a personal leave. Mason saw the opportunity to escape his mundane life, if only for a while, and volunteered to take his place, despite his lack in experience. Other: Is the furthest thing to a lady's man. Prone to addiction. Enjoys snacks.</s> <\|message\|>Angelo Ortega Angelo Ortega-lighthouse 26-bathasphere Angelo was getting transported to a lighthouse off the pacific ocean. Angelo was a great mechanic and he was recognized as such by the state and as a result he was told he would be fixing an important lighthouse in the ocean, obviously Angelo was hesitant in doing so but they pushed his buttons saying he was to young for the job and of course Angelo felt he needed to prove he was just as good if not better then any federal mechanic. Angelo was being dropped off by a speed boat and all his repair supplies were in the bag next to him they kept saying that their was a problem with both its bulb and its support in the oceans current so he needed to work on a way to keep it afloat so he needed to go to its basement and check to see if the water was going in. Once Angelo got onto its small dock which in reality was just some wood going out towards the sea from the stairs leading inside the lighthouse he started walking inside seeing the large metal doors and at first Angelo knocked then it just creepily opened "ah now this is classic" Angelo said softly sighing a little as he took out his shotgun from his bag obviously being suspicious of whatever was in the shadows he started walking up the stairs to the top of the lighthouse and he was seeing some memorabilia about a place of freedom and where all men were left to their own devices, obviously Angelo couldn't care less as long as he did his job. Angelo got to the top and he found the light bulb not shinning in the sky so he found the fuse box nearby and he changed a few wires and turned on the power to the entire lighthouse and Angelo believed they just sent him to do an idiots job. Angelo soon went all the way back down towards the basement and Angelo could see a submarine or some sort of sphere in a small pool, obviously this lighthouse was used for more then just lighting a way for the ships that would pass and was probably used by divers in the 70s considering how old it looked. Angelo looked around and used some plastering mold on the walls where it sprung a leak and Angelo curiosity got to him since it seemed so old it may be a good relic to take to a museum. Angelo walked into the bathosphere and saw it close behind him Angelo tried to get out but then it did a scan and it said unidentified user, unidentified user Angelo thought that seemed pretty advanced for something so old so Angelo walked to a small panel and Angelo started to twist some wires and it did a scan again and this time said welcome Mr. fontaine please enjoy the ride Angelo said "what the hell I wanted you to let me out!" Angelo groaned but sat down as the bathosphere started to take him down where Angelo started to see a city at the bottom of the sea...</s> <\|message\|>Mr. Bubbles and Olivia Olivia and Mr. Bubbles - The streets of Rapture - Splicers and 'angels' Olivia was happily skipping along a glass corridor, humming a merry tune in time to the thuds of Mr. Bubbles' footsteps. Mr. Bubbles was lumbering after his little sister, looking around for any signs of danger. They happened along a corpse. But in Olivia's eyes, it was a sleeping angel. "Look look!" Olivia said excitedly "It's an angel!". Olivia skipped over to the 'angel' to gather ADAM. but as she did so, 4 spider splicers dropped onto Mr. Bubbles and began clawing at him with their hooks. While this was happening a pair of brutes came out of hiding and tried to grab Olivia. Olivia cried out in fear, causing Mr. Bubbles' helmet lights to turn red. He threw 1 spider splicer to the ground and crushed its head beneath his boot. Mr. Bubbles shot the 2nd spider into the air with his rocket launcher and watched as it blew up like a firework. The 3rd and 4th had the sense to run, but were gunned down by the mini-turret Mr. Bubbles deployed for the brutes. When Mr. Bubbles turned his attention to the brutes they abandoned their pursuit of Olivia and instead attacked Mr. Bubbles, who grabbed their heads and bashed them together until he saw skull. When it was over, Olivia ran over to Mr. Bubbles and hugged his leg. Mr. Bubbles knelt down and hugged Olivia back before picking her up and carrying her on his shoulders away from the scene.</s> <\|message\|>BurnHeart BurnHeart - The Streets of Rapture - Another Big Daddy RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHG! BurnHeart was loudly lumbering through the streets, his drill making loud obnoxious noises as it randomly turned on and off. His gun was slung across his back but was easy enough to whip out should a melee fight overwhelm him. As he prowled through the streets, another Big Daddy paired with a little sister saw BurnHeart and grunted in disgust before walking away into a complex. He took note of the Big Daddy's ragged suit and lack of little sister. It was almost a sign of misconduct for a Big Daddy to not have one, or at least it was a way for them to rank their kind being their rather lack of real smarts. BurnHeart however was as ravenous as an animal and he heard the steps of the other Big Daddy echo across the streets he raised his drill into the air and it make a horrible screaming buzz as it spun through the air. It made the other little sister shriek. The big daddy that entered the complex was aware of this and in a bright flash his helmet turned red and he spun back to face his challenger. "GRAAAAAAAHH" BurnHeart shouted, stumbling towards the unnamed Big Daddy. The other Big Daddy braced himself for the brute force of a Rosie but instead found the sharp force of a drill being pressed against his arm. It broke the suit and began drilling into the Big Daddy's grafted arm. It was the Big Daddies turn to scream. BurnHeart raised his arm and swung it down at the other Big Daddy's head, crumpling it. He raised his Ion Laser from his back at fired it twice at the Big daddy's head, to break the suit and then to break the grafted head inside. He then raised his head and looked around for the Little Sister. It was to no avail, she escaped when her Big Daddy crumpled. BurnHeart took one last look at the Big Daddy and raised the laser one more time. He fired it at the big daddy's chest, leaving a smoking hole. It was unknown even to BurnHeart what impulsed him to do this to his victims, but none the less it would cause terror to see a Big Daddy killed in this way. He then screamed and started in a run down the street, trying to find the escaped little sister.</s> <\|message\|>Mr. Bubbles and Olivia Olivia and Mr. Bubbles - The streets of Rapture - Each other Mr. Bubbles stopped when he heard the sound of BurnHeart roaring somewhere in the distance. On his shoulders, he could feel Olivia begin to shake with fear. "It's him" Olivia whimpered "He's coming this way!". Mr. Bubbles attempted to comfort Olivia, but then a 2nd roar echoed through the street they were walking through. This time it was closer. "We have to hide!" Olivia insisted before jumping off Mr. Bubbles and running into a nearby shop. Mr. Bubbles looked in the direction of the roar. Their last encounter with BurnHeart almost cost Olivia and Mr. Bubbles their lives. Mr. Bubbles wasn't eager for round 2. Mr. Bubbles turned back towards the shop where Olivia had gone to hide and walked in after her.</s> <\|message\|>Maya Maya - Streets of Rapture - Bart, unknown A horrific scream made Maya's blood turn to ice, freezing her in her tracks. What... was...? Bart made a noise of warning, his drill arm rising in front of them. Maya patted his arm, trying to calm him. If they ran into anything other then splicers Bart would have a hard time and would be in even worse shape. "It's okay," she said soothingly. "Whatever it is, it isn't going to bother us," she said, praying that was true. "Let's just start heading for home okay?" As they moved cautiously towards the train that would take them towards Pauper's Drop, Maya listened for any other sound from whatever that thing had been. It certainly hadn't been a Little Sister and it hadn't sounded like a Splicer either. It had sounded almost like a Big Daddy, but not how they were supposed to sound. Maybe Bart wasn't the only Big Daddy that was falling into disrepair. It wouldn't surprise her. They had found several bodies of Big Daddies that had been mutilated and picked apart for loot and pieces of their weapons and armor. The curious thing had been that some of them had large holes on their chests. It was nerve-racking, but then when you lived in a hell like Rapture nerve-racking was normal. A high-pitched alarm startled Maya and she dropped her bag to cover her ears. A bright light illuminated her, hurting her eyes. Damn security camera! She had walked right into it's line of sight! Even with Ryan dead and gone the cameras still worked. The light and noise was gone a moment later when Bart ripped the thing off of the wall and stomped on it, crushing it to pieces under his heavy boot. "Thank you," Maya said and quickly grabbed her bag. They needed to move quicker now because if anything or anyone was nearby the noise from the camera was like a dinner bell clanging, an alert to a possible target.</s> <\|message\|>BurnHeart BurnHeart - Streets of Rapture - The Unfortunate... BurnHeart swung his head around to look for the Camera he heard but he caught a hint of motion in the street he was now running down. He took a moment to process this information and he thought he had the most chance of finding a victim on... The distinct screech of a door opening caught BurnHeart's attention. His mind echoed with rage and he screamed ferociously. The noise of the door was screeching through his mind and it made him furious. Instead of following the basic train of thought that he was beginning to formulate he sprinted through the street, traveling to the source of the noise in four bounding leaps. He looked through the window but was unable to conclude if anything was in it. He made a low rumbling noise of curiosity similar to that of other Big Daddies. It also had a hint of sadness that one could detect in his voice always, just now more observable. His lights flashed bright yellow for a second before bounding back to the deep red. He stuck his head through a gash in the window and once again saw nothing. His voice returning to a bone chilling scream he bounded through the window, shattering the glass. He looked around, but he yet again just could not find anything. He refused for that to be the answer. He began tearing the shop apart, looking for his prey.</s>	<\|message\|>Mason Lockwood Mason – Streets of Rapture — Himself Water had filled his lungs. The exploration team he had been assigned on was dead; at least that's the only logical assumption. The team he had joined were sent to find the undisclosed location directly, while others searched topside for clues as to the natural entryway into…well, where they were going, what they were finding was never told to Mason. He was just there to help out with maintenance. A simple task. The small expedition sub carried only a handful of people, many of which were scientist or smart people who obviously got more than a college degree. Of all those people, all those important individuals, Mason couldn't help wonder why a loser like himself survived. If he survives, that is. As he lay on his side, Mason began to cough violently, water and saliva spewing out of his mouth. He took several long and deep gasps, trying to catch as much breath as he could. After several minutes, he was able to muster up an ounce of composure and strength to push his body up with his hands. He looked behind him, staring in disbelief at the airtight door that he had struggled to open. Just a few moments ago he was on the other side of that door; he was deep in the ocean, frantically trying to get the door to open. Before Mason could attempt to even stand on his feet a sudden rush of pain shot through his right arm. His arm gave out and he fell back onto the cold steel floor. He must have injured himself in the escape. Okay, he thought to himself, gotta go, gotta find out where I am… With some effort, he managed to rise to his feet, holding his right arm with his left in an effort to ease the pain. He stared forward at the second airlock and took in a deep breath before unlocking it. He could hear the gears turning as the door started to open up, revealing a dark room. He took a single step and immediately felt a chill run through his body. There's death in this place. Not just the room, but the whole structure in its entirety. Something wasn't right about this place, wherever the hell it is. Still, there was nowhere to go, nowhere to run. Mason continued through the room, not paying any attention to the multitude of oversized diving suits and helmets hanging on the walls. He reached a normal door and pushed it open, revealing something he was unprepared to see. It was a street. A dirty, filthy, rundown street. It bore an uncanny resemblance to some of the streets he'd see back home. But, he's not home; he's miles upon miles deep in the Atlantic Ocean. "Christ…" he uttered under his breath. As his mind was processing all he was seeing, Mason's whole body froze, his heart pounding erratically in his chest. In the distance, there came a bone chilling groan that was now all too familiar to Mason. This was the noise he had heard before something, or someone, attacked their sub. "Ffffuck."</s>
<\|description\|>Koyo-Shi - Ame no nuhoko - brahmasta Appearance: "Sir, I found a hollow mask. May I keep it?" Age: 182 Height: 5'2 Hair Colour: Ash Brown Eye Colour: Deep Purple Birthday: October 24th Clan/Family: In talks to be adopted into a family Race: Shinigami Profession: Shinigami Rank: Squad 13 - Lieutenant Spiritual Energy Color: Golden with tint of orange Power Level: High Lieutenant Personality: Despite the girls drowsy/ clumsy and rather calm demeanor, there hides a truly great large intellect under it all. She has a almost 'fan girl' like respect for captains, often trying to get them to sign things. She seems to enjoy fighting a lot, even more so on the side of tactics, however she has been known to 'snap' in a way and her glare becoming a well known scary accompaniment to this. Raw power is only as good as those that use it, and the ones that use it wisely are the strongest of all, this is the belief she wishes to prove to her family. However, despite this she still holds fear, fear of no longer being in control of her own power... She hopes this fear will never come to pass. History: Ko was not a high born girl at first, she never thought that luck would one day shine her way but after crawling up from the gutter she came into her own during the tests to become a Shinigami. The deciding factor was the Zanpakuto that was already at her side, giving her a big advantage over the others. She had no idea wear she claimed such a blade, only that it was drenched in blood when she did so, a fact she has not forgotten but chooses to ignore thanks to the power gifted to her by the sword. During these tests she was noticed by one of the visiting clans, impressing the head through her attitude and skill which now has allowed her to secure a place among the Shinigami and soon enough to be adopted within the family. Relationships/Friendships/Rivalries/Siblings: WIP Other: Is never seen without her colorful scarf that represents her namesake of colorful leaves Uses the Iaijutsu style of swordsmanship along with more common styles. Has a jug of fruity sake Byakuya Kenpachi Mayuri ~Zanpakuto~ Zanpakuto name: Kogane no aki Type: Kido/Physical Zanpakuto Shikai Release command:"Saw through them Kogane no aki!" Spirit Appearance: The fluffy scarf around her neck flows out behind her while leaves fall from its edges. Inner world: Sealed appearance: Shikai appearance: The sword retains its sheer size of a orochi, while the blade also turns black and gains a serrated edge. From its hilt it has a long piece of cloth flowing from the bell on the end. The bell reacts to spirit pressure, and the ends of all the cloth that the user wears infinitely breaks apart into golden leaves which flow around the user. Bankai appearance: The sound of shattering chains echo out from Koyo, her head and body pounding from the pain as something forces its way into her very being, and for a moment her lips part as if they are being forced to speak the word; "Bankai..." With that Aki is unleashed,chains burst from the hilt of the sword to start wrapping around Koyo's body, her hair taking on a much darker hair with her purple eyes being replaced by golden orbs. Her sword dosen't change, but it is clear that whoever is using it has... Shikai skills: 1. Never Ending Fall: The leaves that fall from her clothing and the cloth of the sword never stops, and they will follow the user around and act on their own. Covering for their master in attacks or distracting the enemy. They produce 5 leaves over time {Or per post or so?} with 10 being produced when she first uses her Shikai 2. The Fallen's Revenge: Ko slashes through the leaves that surround her, and for each leaf slashed a traveling sword attack follows. This power increases the more leaves that are cut by her sword and so the more time passes the more leaves she can cut. This also works for casting Kido where she can channel the cast from the leaf instead of herself. Uses 1 leaf 3. Leaf Fake: By sacrificing her leaves she is able to make a copy of herself which is able to interact with the world, though it is only a fraction as powerful it still retains the same spirit pressure. Of course this means she loses leaves to attack with. Uses 10 Leaves 4. Saw Through: This is in fact one of the main abilities of Kogane no aki. When drawn the edge of the serrated blade hums like hundred of falling leaves, its edge covered with golden Reiatsu which acts much like a chainsaw when striking. This technique only lasts for three posts, at which point Ko much re-sheath her blade and draw it again, to 'rev' it with power. When striking a leaf with this technique it sends out loads of tiny slashes instead of just one big one. 5. hyakunin giri 6. 7. 8. Chains of Punishment: The chains that once bound the spirit Kogane no aki are now able to be summoned into the real world through the sleeves of the users robes. These chains have large black sword like objects attached to them. These swords and chains can be summoned from the leaves that fall from Bankai skills: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. (Ultimate Skill) Non-lethal Zanpakuto Skills: Skills Zanjutsu Hozuri (3) Shitonegaeshi (3) Hozan Kenbu (3) Ryodan (3) Senmaioroshi (3) Suikawari (3) Agitowari (3) Onibi (3) Hitotsume: Nadegiri (3) Kido Hado #1 Sho (3) #4 Byakurai (3) #11 Tsuzuri Raiden (3) #31 Shakkaho (3) #32 Okasen (3) #33 Sokatsui (3) #34 Kongobaku (3) #40 Gaki Rekko (3) #54 Haien (3) #58 Tenran (3) #63 Raikoho (3) #73 Soren Sokatsui (3) Bakudo #1 Sai (3) #4 Hainawa (3) #8 Seki (3) #9 Geki (3) #9 Horin (3) #11 Kyomon (3) #12 Fushibi (3) #20 Hakufuku (3) #21 Sekienton (3) #22 Inemuri (3) #26 Kyokko (3) #27 Tanma Otoshi (3) #28 Shibireyubi (3) #30 Shitotsu Sansen (3) #37 Tsuriboshi (3) #39 Enkosen (3) #58 Kakushitsuijaku (3) #61 Rikujokoro (3) #62 Hyapporankan (3) #63 Sajo Sabaku (3) #65 El Escudo (3) #73 Tozansho (3) #75 Gochutekkan (3) #76 Hako Okuri (3) #77 Tenteikura (3) #78 Hakudan Keppeki (3) Hakuda Shunkō (3) Tessho (3) Tsukiyubi (3) Chōhigezutsuki (3) Kazaguruma (3) Gatoringu Jidanda (3) Sandobaggu Bīto (3) Kagamibiraki (3) Oni Dekopin (3) Ikkotsu (3) Raiōken (3) Sōkotsu (3) Hoho Shunpo (3) Total points gained: 172 Total Points Spent: 0 Mission log: Sparring: 5 Points Karakura Town Defense 2 hollows: 7 Points Time skip: 160 Points spent and skills gained: 0</s> <\|message\|>Rui Aizheng Well that was one rude bastard. Who in their right mind talks to a captain like that? Especially an unseated squadless shinigami fresh out of the academy. That's just a one way ticket to a world of pain, more so with a captain that hated his job. Zheng just stood there silently and observed this guy's zanpukto. Gauntlets huh? Looked like he wasn't the only one with a hakuda enhancing zanpukto. He wondered if he was going to be forced to fight this guy as a part of the test or not. It was a shame that they weren't allowed to use their zanpukto's in spars anymore. Hopefully this guy doesn't care and let them do it anyway. "Heh, he's a go getter eh Kamon? Huh, Kamon?" He turned to Kamon and saw that the mod soul was watching a butterfly with great interest. "...God dammit Kamon."</s> <\|message\|>Aya Oda @AbigailTenshi "Hahaha, die! die!!" Aya shouted swinging her sword left to right, up to down, and all around. Hacking away at the hollows that got near her. Since her sword was big enough she had a little circle to keep them at bay. Of course the hole was gradually shrinking with the oncoming hollows, yet she did her best to drive them back. It wasn't until one spiritual energy suddenly plummeted that she stopped her assault and looked in the direction it came from. "Bouncy?" Aya mumbled before she heard Shinzo yell, but he was too far away to hear clearly. She caught traces of die and run, then his spiritual energy vanished as well. "Run? I can't run sittin buddy. This nest thing is too big to run from. What would happen if they decided to come after us and attacked a district? I'd feel like it'd be all my fault." Aya said looking at the hollows closing around her, before a hollow with a slightly higher energy than the rest came bursting out and punching her across the face and sent her flying further into the horde of hollows. From above, she could see just how vast the amount was, it really sucked she didn't know that technique from the captain yet. As she crash landed, she jumped to her feet only to feel something sharp pierce her stomach. She look but only saw beady eyes that hid among the couple of hollows that both smacked her in the face. blood shot out of her mouth a she stumbled back with that beady eyed hollow's arm pulling out of her. Blood trailed down her stomach and leaked onto the ground. She raised her sword and swung where those eyes last were, but all she did was slay common hollows. She then felt something slash at her lower back which left a slightly deep cut about five inches big, that bleed out too. She grit her teeth, as she swung her sword in a circle cutting hollow after hollow in half, but not that beady eye one that seemed to stalk her. "Come one fucker, just you and me! Its how I tried to plan this anyway. Get here before the other two so only I had to be at risk. But I wasn't fucking fast enough and now Bouncy and Sitting buddy are probably in dire conditions! I don't care if I bite the bullet, but I'm making sure you come with me!" Aya shouted which resulted in not her being attacked by the hollow, but a hollow being thrown at her. It wouldn't be such a bad thing, it it wasn't three times her size. So It squashed her like a bug, and she hacked up blood while blood sprayed a bit from the wound to her stomach. While her power went up it was almost laughable, power increase was usually a good thing, but in Aya's case it wasn't. Mostly since it meant she was losing badly. Yet she stood back up and held up her sword as she motioned for all of them to bring it.</s> <\|message\|>Zento Ray Zento Ray Zento, no longer had any reason to doubt Koyo. She demonstrated excellent sword skill and ability, despite being a bite reckless. With a series of acrobatics, she was able to push the hollow off its feet. Unfortunately, this was not simplistic Hollow, suddenly it's face darkened as it fell. Zento's eyes widened, as he watched, he realized that it had been waiting for this. It's arms contorted, it's elbow switching directions, literally. It caught itself, before pushing it's body up, sudden a red ball of energy formed on its mouth. Zento knew exactly what the was, "Cero!" he yelled glancing at Koyo before Shunpo'ing into the air. The Hollow fired a red beam at were Koyo and Zento were originally standing, and an explosion rocked the whole block. The ground was on fire, and a large crater had formed from the blast. When the smoke cleared, the Hollow had disappeared. Zento jumped down and walked over to the place the the Hollow was originally standing. "Damn, it escaped." He mumbled, it must have ran when it's Mask was chipped. "Good job." He said back at Koyo, she had proved beyond a doubt that she could help herself.</s>	<\|message\|>Koyo-Shi - Ame no nuhoko - brahmasta "Fast little-," Koyo barely got out her words of surprise as the hollow sprung up from her attack and charged up a cero, the crimson light bathing her as if she was its current target out of revenge. Springing back to the empty sheath of her blade she grabbed onto it and leaping into the air, the intense blast almost catching her in the process! Watching the dust from the blast clear Koyo gave off a unsatisfied sigh as she sheathed her sword. The dull gray blade catching her eye and even making her frown, as she could swear it was almost as if it was mocking her. "Sorry, I should have tried to take it down in one swing" She said but looked a little happy at the fact given the fact Zento had told her she had done a good job, that was good enough for her. "Do you think he will return right away? Or maybe he is still around waiting?" She was unsure on that, kind of hoping he was gone for good for now.</s>
<\|description\|>Kuroda Kyoichi Appearance: Moderately tall, standing at 6'2". Dark of hair, kept medium length and usually in a pony tail. Athletically built, lean but not frail. Blue eyed, holds fierce expression. Age: 320 soul years, looks approximately 16 in human years. Gender: Male Hair Colour: Black/Dark Blue Birthday:May 29th Clan/Family:Kuroda (Kurisa, you'd better approve this..) Race:Tainted Soul(Kurisa, you remember why...) Profession:Shinigami. Official judge of the tea ceremony club Rank: Lieutenant of Squad Eight Spiritual Energy Colour: Blue, with orange streaks. Power Level: High lieutenant Personality: If ever there was someone who is first heard then seen, Kyoichi would be it. Boisterous and carefree, Kyoichi walks his path with absolute certainty. He carries about him an air of arrogance, a sense of trust first and foremost in himself. Slightly insane, he will dive head first into any challenging situation before assessing his chances of success. All of those traits aside, he is quite joyous, often found joking and chatting idly with anyone he meets. Strong willed, he is not easily discouraged. All in all, Kyoichi is the neighborhood jokester who likes to enjoy whatever his life has to offer him, just take whatever he says with a grain of salt. History: Every year for as long as Kyoichi can remember, there has been a ceremony held by his immediate family revolving around a sword. To him, at his young age, it just look like a blue piece of metal held up on a shrine. He simply did what he was told and then enjoyed the food his mother and grandmother took literally hours and hours to prepare. His father and grandfather carried out intricate rituals to cleanse and polish the sword, something Kyoichi was taught to do ever since he started taking part in the ceremony... Other than that, Kyoichi carried on with school, joining any club that seeming interesting to him. Sports, literary, debate, his choices were quite diverse as he found many things to be of interest to him. His grades did not suffer because of his incessant need to find new things and unending curiosity for new subjects. His fifteenth birthday rolled around. He finally got his chance to at least hold the sacred sword his family has enshrined for as long as he can remember. When the ceremony came to pass, everything changed. His grandfather instructed him to retrieve the sword and unsheathe it for the cleansing and polishing that was done each year. When he did as he was told, a burst of blue and orange energy poured out from the sword and was absorbed by Kyoichi. Kyoichi himself did not see it or feel it, however, everyone else around him saw it happen in what seemed like slow motion. His grandfather remembers a story told to him by his grandfather about the prophecy around the sword. One day, a child born of his roots will be able to call on the spirit that resides in the sword and carry out his sacred task. After the event, his grandfather asked Kyoichi to sheathe the sword and they moved the shrine to his room and it was kept there until the day he left for Bugei Academy. Getting into the academy was not a huge problem as his family has ties with a powerful family from antiquity. It helped that Kyoichi had top of the notch grades and loads of extracurricular experience. On the day he was leaving, his grandfather retrieve the sacred sword personally and handed it to him, telling him about the story around the sword. He then asked him, as a final command regarding the sword, to keep the sword safe at all times and learn to use it to its fullest. Accepting the task, Kyoichi set off to start his secondary education at Bugei Academy. One year after that, he was struck with a terrible, and odd disease. Unknown and incurable, it took him very quickly. For some reason, he felt as if his family knew of this. They did not try as hard as they could to bring him back, instead, they just let him pass. Arriving at Soul Society, he met up with his ancestors, who were all shinigamis before him, all the way up to the patriarch, Kuroda Kenshin. One afternoon, Kenshin sat the young Kyoichi down and explained everything to him. The disease that took him was in fact hereditary, and was called Tainted Soul. Kenshin was the first to be afflicted with this, and he told him the story of his first...outburst. He also told him why his grandfather's name is Sengoku, and the reasoning behind it all. Now that he is here, Kenshin expects his fourth generation descendent to join a proper squad and be a productive member of the Gotei 13. Relationships/Friendships/Rivalries/Siblings: All are still alive- Kuroda Sengoku (85) Grandfather Kuroda Yuuko (83) Grandmother Kuroda Kenshin (52) Father Kuroda Natsu (50) Mother Kuroda Yunko (12) Sister Other: Pair of sunglasses, not particularly extravagant. A old pipe and pouch, given to him by Kenshin the First ~Zanpakuto~ Zanpakuto name: The Furnace Type: Zanpakuto Shikai Release command: Bring to life the essence of the Living Flame! Spirit Appearance: Spirit Personality/Goals: Quite serious, his zanpakuto does not bend nor does it yield. Harsh, it does not tolerate weakness. Driven, it is determined to take the title of "Strongest Fire Type" from the legendary Ryūjin Jakka. Inner world: Sealed appearance: Katana. The blade is tinted red, and the guard and sheath is gold. The handle is white and wrapped with a purple cloth. Shikai appearance:A golden mace, lit on both ends with golden flames. Bankai appearance:A large, brown mace. Lit in the middle with dark red flames. There are ancient glyphs that glow on both sides of the weapon, pulsing with the flame. Shikai skills: (Start off with no Shikai or 4 to 5 Shikai skills) 1. Burning Orb- Kyoichi swings his mace, firing a fireball in the swing's direction (No Cooldown, usable each post) 2. Decimating Smash- Bring his mace down into the ground, Kyoichi lights the ground around him, in a 5 feet radius, aflame and stuns anyone caught in the blast (1 post cooldown) 3. Vicious Strikes- Kyoichi swings his mace twice. If either of the two swings connect as a hit, he can immediately launch a Burning Orb at close range at the enemy (3 post cooldown) 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. Bankai skills: 1. Mercurial Blast- Kyoichi fires off three empowered Burning Orbs in quick succession. These orbs will seem unpredictable, but they are truly homing blasts sent towards the enemy(No cooldown, usable each post) 2. Soul Furnace- Empowering his Decimating Smash, the radius is now increased to 15 feet, and the blast now continuously pulses after the smash at the site (2 post cooldown) 3. Reckless Swings- Kyoichi swings his mace four times and if any of the four swings connect, he can immediately chain the hit into a Mercurial Blast (3 post cooldown) 4. Bloodlust- By consuming the flames contained with his mace, Kyoichi transforms into a rage-infused monster. Each strike will lit the enemy aflame. Can only be used once per thread 5. Last Breath- Charging at his enemy, Kyoichi leads with his flame-imbued mace in a dashing attack (2 post cooldown) 6. Dragon's Descent- Kyoichi summons a dragon-shaped meteor down from the skies to strike the battlefield. Once struck, the battlefield will have pillars of flames appear randomly (Usable only when Bloodlust is activated, thus only usable once per thread) Non-lethal Zanpakuto Skills: Skills (Note: The skills below are the ones learned in the Academy. You may pick and choose which ones you want from what is listed below already. You can have all the skills already given to you or perhaps challenge yourself a little and Handicap your character in some area's) Zanjutsu Hozuri (1) Shitonegaeshi (1) Kido Bakudo #1 Sai (1) #4 Hainawa (1) Hado #1 Sho (1) #4 Byakurai (1) #31 Shakkaho (1) #32 Okasen (1) #33 Sokatsui (1) Hakuda Tessho (1) Hoho Shunpo (1) Total points gained: Total Points Spent: Mission log: Points spent and skills gained:</s> <\|message\|>Aya Oda @Kurisa Aya Oda Aya after getting her pole fixed since her cousin went and fucked it up with the whole cutting it down, she would begin to feel the ground shake and watch her pole fall back down. "GOD DAMNIT!" She shouted and listened to the voice that sounded. "Wait wha?" She muttered before the blinding light and then..... nothing. She was in the same spot as last time and would look around confused. "Im kicking whoever caused the fucking earthquake, and I'm making him fix my damn pole." Aya mumbled walking away a bit but stopped when a shockwave went right by her face and a ton of debris that Shinzo himself caused. Aya just dodged all the flying wood and look at the gaping hole and walked into his office and stared at Shinzo who was alone after Juki left. ".... He owes me a new pole. Did you mention my pole? The pole is very important." --- @Phobos@Kurisa Ike "Oh just great, they taste amazing at first, then after you ingest the flavor into your system long enough then its just food that you eat." Ike said answering her on how they tasted. "Oh wait, I'm suppose to promote everything like a good worker does. Lets see hmmm. Oh yes, they are just the perfect blend of flavors. Even though I work back there he doesn't tell me nothing about how he makes them, truly C is a god at making dumplings." Ike said giving a wink and thumbs up to Yakima before slouching back at his table, after shoving a dumpling in his mouth.</s> <\|message\|>Kuroda Kyoichi The time is now half past five, for anyone that is observing. For Kyoichi, it seems as if time has been standing still for as long as he has been inside that temple. The monk, acting as if nothing was out of place, stood still with his staff in his hand. "Your forefathers would be ashamed. It has taken you, a supposed prodigal child, too long to understand the meaning of my words. One must flow like the mighty river in order to temper the flames that burn within. Take that to heart, child, and you will find that your skills grows five-fold. Until then, you must receive these rods in penance." The monk said, moving in a shunpo-esque motion. Kyoichi, still befuddled, was trying to raise his sword to block as fast as he could. However, the monk's staff struck hard and true, literally beating Kyoichi all over the ground. Finally, after what seemed like hours of beating, Kyoichi stood up and paced back, eyes fully closed. "Flow...like water..." He said. His reiatsu, to those that can see it, seemed calm but still containing that sense of wildness that he has always had. With one deep breath, he opened his eyes and said "I understand now, master Monk." He held his sword loosely in his right hand. "Then come and test your understanding, baka disciple..." The monk said, displaying a wild grin that is not supposed to appear on a man of spirituality. Taking one hard step forward, Kyoichi shunpo'ed towards the monk and swung his sword arm upwards at a 45 degree angle. The monk instinctively moved to his right to dodge, only to receive a downward slash on his right shoulder from Kyoichi. "Hm." The monk said, swinging his staff to bat the sword away. Retracting his sword, Kyoichi swung it horizontally at the monk. The monk moving once more to dodge, this time simply moving backwards. However, Kyoichi had switched his sword hand to his left and had thrust the sword forward, piercing the monk at the sternum. "Very good..." The monk said before disappearing in a puff of smoke... Reappearing uninjured, the monk said "You, after many tribulations, have passed my test, you may pass to face your next task, which will be more difficult and will require you to utilize what you have learned here to pass...Also, say hi to the old man you'll meet for me. Simply tell him the monk says hi, he will understand..." Kyoichi, sheathing his sword, said "I will, master." Giving a full bow, he gathered his things and moved on, past the temple and into the mountain path behind it... Flowing like water, Kyoichi is finally learning how to tame the fire that burns within him...</s>	<\|message\|>Kuroda Kyoichi -In the human world- Kyoichi woke. He was taking a simple nap when the even had transpired. Grunting, he stood up from the grassy field and looked about. "Just what in the hell happened..." He said to no one in particular. He spotted three captain, particularly the captains of Squad Four, Nine and Thirteen. Having not heard what was said before he woke, he approached the captain of Squad Thirteen and said "Ma'am, just what is happening? Are we on a special mission or something? There is sure a lot of shinigamis here for a mission..." -Sword Quest- Moving through the mountain path, Kyoichi had spotted a small diner, oddly placed considering the locale. "Yukihira's...sounds interesting..." Securing his sword and backpack, he stepped through the curtained doors of the small diner. "WELCOME!" The chef called out. "Have a seat wherever you'd like sir." The chef continued, without even turning around. "The menu is on the wall. The special today is Scalding Hot Nabeyaki Udon, served with a side of ryukiri beef!" Kyoichi was nodding along to the whole nabeyaki udon part but when the ryukiri beef bit came about, he furrowed his eyebrows and turned to look at the chef. To his surprise, the chef wasn't at the stove...</s>
<\|description\|>Alice Yagami Age - 23 Sex - Female Rank - High Weapons/Equipment - Hidden Ones (Dual Swords), Usurper's Boltstriker (Long Sword), High Rank Zinogre Armor Hunting Companions - Yamba Personality - A very eccentric hunter with an electric and sometimes violent personality, as if she were risen by the monster who's armor she dons. While not hunting, she is usually eating with her Shakalaka companion, Shamba. She tries to stay away from other hunters, but usually wandering eyes will settle on her less than modest clothing. Around other people, Alice loves sparring and wrestling, or any contact sport. She happens to be one of the best arm wrestlers in her hunting guild. While hunting, she usually pairs up with three others, but rarely listens to commands given by her companions. Alice tends to swing her sword somewhat blindly, sometimes hitting nearby hunters, but nonetheless powerful. She becomes ravenous while hunting, shouting war cries with every swing, her ultimate goal in mind being to kill. She rarely goes on capture quests because of this. She will seldom attend the Arena, however she prefers to hunt in the wild, claiming that the large crowd makes her nervous. Likes - Food, killing monsters, contact sports. Dislikes - Capture quests, gathering materials, losing challenges, large crowds. History - Alice grew up around Port Tanzia, her parents both being merchants. Since Port Tanzia was frequented by hunters, she was introduced to them at a very young age. Immediately she became obsessed with the guild, time and time again applying for the Hunters Guild before she was eventually admitted. Her first hunting tasks involved simple gathering and fishing, which bored her quickly. Often she would slaughter Altaroth's that marched past her while gathering mushrooms. She had thought about quitting multiple times, but as her quests started to get geared more towards hunting rather than gathering, she stuck with it. Her climb through the ranks was a tad slow, due to her not being able to complete most capture missions, which became more and more plentiful as she gained in rank. Nonetheless, High Rank was reached in no time. During one of her quests, she was able to befriend a Shakalaka, who was named Shamba. Alice and Shamba have since been inseperable. Name - Shamba Age - Middle-aged (I don't know about the life span of Shakalaka...) Species - Shakalaka Sex - Male Weapons/Equipment - Grill Mask, Boomerang Staff Master - Alice Yagami Personality - A very religious Shakalaka who vigorously follows the practice of dancing. He has studied the art all his life, constantly practicing movements and reading tomes for new dances. He is very wise and analytical, often giving advice to his master Alice, who will seldom listen. Likes - Practicing dance, reading dance texts, meditating. Dislikes - Doing nothing, keeping conversation. History - Shamba grew up in a massive Shakalaka tribe in the depths of a forest. He was the son of the head priest of the tribe, and because of this grew up studying dance alongside his father. He quickly learned the art and master many of the villages dancing, but craved to know more. One day, a hunter traveled through his tribe named Alice. Shamba decided that this would be the time to leave his tribe, as all Shakalaka did at one point. However, unlike most, he left to find the ultimate dance whether then the ultimate mask. Shamba followed Alice home, begging for her to bring her to new lands, for her to show him new and unknown dances. Alice reluctantly agreed, and the two quickly grew fond of each other.</s> <\|message\|>Tybalt Cynthia Leoneart & Tybalt After skinning the G. Jaggi dry, Cynthia and Tybalt began to head back to Minnegrade with their small hull. Finally this boring mission is coming to a close, for all they need to do now is get paid and head back to her apartment. She stops by the client, who thanked her for the materials, and gave her 1,000 Zeni. Just a measly... 1,000. Eh. For a mission like so, it was to be expected, as the more dangerous the monster, the bigger the reward. She nods and thanks the villager kindly as she and her partner walk off. Now she was excruciatingly bored as hell. Soon, her belly begins to growl, as it snaps several unpleasant bites inside her stomach. She remembered she didn't eat a very good breakfast, only a small slice of toast. "Tybalt..." she asks her palico, "Aren't you feeling kinda peckish?" "Yeah I sorta am, nya. Why? You hungry too?" "I am. Lets use our pay to grab something to eat. Our favorite stop is just ahead." Tybalt nods as the two enter their favorite diner, following the delightful smells of the delicious food inside. Cynthia had her favorite dish; marinated steak with a side of fresh greens and Panish to drink, while Tybalt had a King Truffle with some blessed wine. The two sit at a table together and begin to eat. Behind them, was a group of hunters, not more than 3, that were by a table. Cynthia began to consider meeting the hunters, but didn't want to be so hasty. With her ears directed on the conversation, she waits. --- Regionald High in the mountains of Mist Peaks, a swift breeze echoes throughout the valley. As small herd of Kelbi graze on the grasses in the forest below, with migrating Aptonoth marching through the woods, and Bullfangoes forging for mushrooms and truffles. In the trees, a lone male Kechawacha can be seen sleeping in the canopy, his ears disguising his closed eyes. Everything seemed to be in order and under control. Who would dare disrupt the peace? Suddenly, the Kelbi herd sense something coming. The scent of a mighty predator! The next to sense it were the Aptonoths, who groaned in distress as they began to run. The Kelbi began galloping away with them, squealing in fear, as both species began to run for cover. The only one truly unaware of the situation was the Kechawacha, who had just awakened after hearing the distress from the forest floor. Yet before he could analyze the situation, several large talons come from the sky, grasping the primate's back. The Kechawacha wails in agony as he is suddenly swooped up into the sky, seeing the whole forest below him. He flails his arms and legs about, trying to desperately get free. Yet with a sudden jolt of pain, the predator bites his neck, digging its sharp teeth into his throat. The primate's wails turn into gurgles of blood as he begins to slowly pass out from the lack of air in his lungs. In just a short minute, the Kechawacha finally succumbs to his death as his corpse hangs in the mighty talons of his attacker. The attacker was a mighty Rathalos, whose territory was not far from where his prey was, just higher up into the mountains. His name was Regionald... or some hunters like to call him, "The White Striker". Yes, this Rathalos is guilty for attacking humans and several farms in the last few years and is notorious for his sudden ambushes. No hunter has ever taken him down successfully, let alone get caught. He continues to fly higher into the mountains, where snow begins to form as he approaches his cave. This Kechawacha will make a very chewy yet tasty meal for himself. He drops the corpse by the entrance as he lands with a quiet thump. Before eating, he makes a loud roar, alerting anyone within the area to stay away. Once he has asserted his dominance, he begins to eat in peace, knowing that his domain is still in check.</s> <\|message\|>Veisu TING... TING... TING... TING... Hsssssssssssssss Hot steam filled the forge as a massive blade of the exotic dragonite metal quenched its heated thirst in a pool of water. To them, it was a job, a service. To Veisu, it was an art. He removed the blade from its bath, pivoting his sweat coated torso as he carried his craft to a stone bench. It was here that he would assemble the mechanics inside the weapon. This was no ordinary sword and shield; it featured many unique functions. Firstly, the blade of the sword contained small slits, in which blood would collect from fighting monsters. These slits led to a reservoir inside the handle, and the wielder could discern if this vial was full by a resonant red glow that would emanate from the blade. The hunter would then sheathe the blade into a scabbard installed in the shield, and open the valves inside the blade. This would deposit the blood into a chemical bath hidden in the shield, and the resulting admixture would fill up to five phials inside the shield. Next, the shield contains a latch that secures the sword into the scabbard. One side of the shield was kept sharp for this purpose, for when secured, the hunter could swing the sword and shield as a great-axe. Lastly, the hunter could release bursts of the chemical mixture stored in the phials while swinging this pseduo-axe to deal explosive or energetic damage to the target. "Here." Veisu said, handing the finished product to a man standing on the opposite side of a counter. The man nodded and set a pouch on the counter, and departed with his weapon. Upon inspection, Veisu noted the contents of the pouch to be a large sum of coin. Minegarde was one of the first cities to support the Hunter's Guild. And as such, it was one of the most populated. As a hunter of his rank, the Guild would allow Veisu to travel as he pleased, knowing he would commit to hunts and other services wherever he was. To their surprise, he had shown much more commitment than expected: whenever Veisu wasn't hunting or sleeping, he was gathering and forging. He had been this way since he joined the Guild, and being stationed in Minegarde was no different. Well, it was no different for him. For others, gossip of his presence and his work would infest any town or city he visited.</s>	<\|message\|>Alice Yagami Meat sizzled as Alice turned it delicately over the coals, waiting for the brink of when Rare turned to Well-Done, just how she liked it. If she had it her way, she would have it cooked it as short as possible. She thought it had tasted better that way. However, Well-Done Steak gave you more energy and stamina, which was a necessity for hunters of all kinds, so Alice decided to cook it to a Well-Done state in the least time possible. She had become an expert of lifting the juicy meat off the spit at just the right time. Shamba's focus was interrupted by a voice closer than the background noise. The voice was deep and strong, unlike Alice's more feminine voice. Shamba opened his eyes from his state of meditation. Unable to turn his head due to his mask being used, he spoke to the visitor with his head straight forward. "Kya! Hello, new hunter!" Shamba greeted cheerily. Alice glared at the steak, almost cooking it altogether with her electric gaze. Her anger had subsided to minor annoyance, but she decided not to speak. Alice lifted the steaks off of Shamba's head, who promptly stood and turned to face the newcomer. Surprisingly, there were two new faces nearby: One of a well-built male hunter who looked to be around Alice's age. The other was a Popo of a man, his entire body bulging with muscles built from years of training. He seemed to had just finished a meal."Alice say hi, as well!" He looked at the two steaks Alice held, looking over to the new faces. "If hunters like, we share steak-alaka!" Alice let out a surpressed growl at Shamba's cheery attitude. She had only cooked two steaks, and hadn't eaten anything at all. With a small "hmph," she handed the steaks to Shamba, who waddled to their guests and offered the steak to them. Alice meanwhile reached in to a bag strapped to her waist, pulling out two bottles of thick, reddish-brown liquid, a mixture of Honey and Hot Peppers. It was supposed to be a topping for the steaks steak, which Alice set on the table, giving them a push to both of the Hunters that had joined her. "Shamba," she said in an edgy tone, "I need to cook some more." Shamba skipped happily back to his original sitting position as Alice pulled out two more steaks. "So," she talked over her shoulder as she set the steaks on the mask-spit, "come back from any quests lately?"</s>
<\|description\|>Alice Yagami Age - 23 Sex - Female Rank - High Weapons/Equipment - Hidden Ones (Dual Swords), Usurper's Boltstriker (Long Sword), High Rank Zinogre Armor Hunting Companions - Yamba Personality - A very eccentric hunter with an electric and sometimes violent personality, as if she were risen by the monster who's armor she dons. While not hunting, she is usually eating with her Shakalaka companion, Shamba. She tries to stay away from other hunters, but usually wandering eyes will settle on her less than modest clothing. Around other people, Alice loves sparring and wrestling, or any contact sport. She happens to be one of the best arm wrestlers in her hunting guild. While hunting, she usually pairs up with three others, but rarely listens to commands given by her companions. Alice tends to swing her sword somewhat blindly, sometimes hitting nearby hunters, but nonetheless powerful. She becomes ravenous while hunting, shouting war cries with every swing, her ultimate goal in mind being to kill. She rarely goes on capture quests because of this. She will seldom attend the Arena, however she prefers to hunt in the wild, claiming that the large crowd makes her nervous. Likes - Food, killing monsters, contact sports. Dislikes - Capture quests, gathering materials, losing challenges, large crowds. History - Alice grew up around Port Tanzia, her parents both being merchants. Since Port Tanzia was frequented by hunters, she was introduced to them at a very young age. Immediately she became obsessed with the guild, time and time again applying for the Hunters Guild before she was eventually admitted. Her first hunting tasks involved simple gathering and fishing, which bored her quickly. Often she would slaughter Altaroth's that marched past her while gathering mushrooms. She had thought about quitting multiple times, but as her quests started to get geared more towards hunting rather than gathering, she stuck with it. Her climb through the ranks was a tad slow, due to her not being able to complete most capture missions, which became more and more plentiful as she gained in rank. Nonetheless, High Rank was reached in no time. During one of her quests, she was able to befriend a Shakalaka, who was named Shamba. Alice and Shamba have since been inseperable. Name - Shamba Age - Middle-aged (I don't know about the life span of Shakalaka...) Species - Shakalaka Sex - Male Weapons/Equipment - Grill Mask, Boomerang Staff Master - Alice Yagami Personality - A very religious Shakalaka who vigorously follows the practice of dancing. He has studied the art all his life, constantly practicing movements and reading tomes for new dances. He is very wise and analytical, often giving advice to his master Alice, who will seldom listen. Likes - Practicing dance, reading dance texts, meditating. Dislikes - Doing nothing, keeping conversation. History - Shamba grew up in a massive Shakalaka tribe in the depths of a forest. He was the son of the head priest of the tribe, and because of this grew up studying dance alongside his father. He quickly learned the art and master many of the villages dancing, but craved to know more. One day, a hunter traveled through his tribe named Alice. Shamba decided that this would be the time to leave his tribe, as all Shakalaka did at one point. However, unlike most, he left to find the ultimate dance whether then the ultimate mask. Shamba followed Alice home, begging for her to bring her to new lands, for her to show him new and unknown dances. Alice reluctantly agreed, and the two quickly grew fond of each other.</s> <\|message\|>Tybalt Cynthia Leoneart & Tybalt Cynthia continues eating her meal whilst listen to the conversation behind her. Then one of them asks the other hunters whether they hunted lately or not. The girl is the first to answer as she turns around. "I just came back from one. A boring one though, had to kill a measly Great Jaggi. Got a decentish pay for turning in the scales and hide to a salesman." Cynthia takes a quick bite of her food right after she finished with Tybalt listening in as well. --- ??? Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump... A lone monster treks just on the outskirts of Minegarde, remaining hidden from behind the rocks. He growls quietly as he sniffs the air, looking upon the bustling town. It was rush hour. Carts slow to a halt as traffic begins to clog up the entrance. Many of which contained valuable supplies, such as food, water, metals, you name it. Yet little did they realize that a monster was hiding just behind the rocks. He seemed to be ready for an ambush, as his eyes squint, his maw drools and his claws ready to spring. Was he going to attack the traffic head-on?! Nah. With a snort, the monster turns the other way and heads back into the hills. It was way too risky to ambush traffic in rush hour, let alone this close to a hunter's paradise. This monster knew better, for he is a legendary Zinogre, known as WOLFENSTEIN. He never liked to battle hunters, yet he often watches caravan traffic from a hidden location, watching them go buy with their goods. He never did anything wrong to the humans... yet he is the one who gets hunted. Already he's been hunted 4 times and all of them were either from accidental bump-ins or that a hunter was looking for a Zinogre to hunt anyways. This makes Wolfenstein furious! Yet there was nothing else he could do but either flee or, in a worst-case scenario, fight. The only time he fought with another hunter was only for very briefly, only charging up a lightning attack and striking it at it, allowing him to quickly escape into the rocky heights. Despite his timid personality with humans, he's definitely not a coward... He's just a pacifist. (Will make a profile for Wolfenstein the Zinogre!)</s> <\|message\|>Grand 'Mort' Myers Grand Myers After being given permission, he sat down, not too close to the group of hunters who had 'suddenly' popped up. "Kya! Hello, new hunter! Alice say hi, as well!" said the Shakalaka, swiftly bowing his head and saying "Hello to you too." to then he was handed a piece of meat, rather well cooked, by the Shakalaka. He gracefully accepted and just quietly watched the hunters, who carried themselves with a certain grace, though it didn't seem apparent. "I just got drafted here, so I-" he said before he got cut off, a young girl burst through the doors on the inn, hands on her side hips. Her head poking around looking for someone, she had gathered some looks from hunters but she didn't really notice nor care. Her head springing around till her gaze met with Grand. Jerek was right behind her, showing a sullen look. She ran up to Grand and practically tackled him, "Nii, I thought you left like Dad.." she said to him, teary eyed. "Don't worry, I won't go anywhere." slightly smiling at her. Quickly getting out of her slump, Jerek apologized and said "Sorry master, I couldn't do anything-nya." Grand patting his head, "It's alright." Another hunter chimes in, and the people in the table increases by one. Just silently keeping quiet and observing the table full of capable hunters who might be stronger than him. Aviana walking around the table and with sparkling eyes saw the large hulking Hunter and asked, "Can I have a piggy back ride!?" ---</s> <\|message\|>Veisu Veisu carefully counted the coin in the newly acquired pouch twice, confirming the price of his project each time. Satisfied with this, he stowed the coins away, next to small vials of healing potion, tools to spring traps, and other hunting gear, into a small sack that he would take with him on quests. He then withdrew his armor and Stahlurteil, his most preferred weapon, from a large case that he kept in his forge. He donned his blade and all of his armor but his helm, which he carried under his arm. He carefully closed and locked up the door and windows of his forge and headed into the city main. As he drew closer to the main plaza centered in the core of Minegarde, he heard forming around him the voices of commerce and the slaps of shoes against the pavement. The dusty stone-worked streets kicked up clouds of dirt as many travelers, hunters, and merchants made their ways to their various obligations. Veisu walked unimpeded by the presence of such peoples, although his presence did earn him glances and glares from most of those he strode past. The sun was at it's peak when he reached the plaza. Its heat beat down on those brave enough to loiter out of the shade, and Veisu was no less vulnerable to such warmth than any other. He quickly made his way to a dining area, where the heat of the sun was rivaled by the ovens and stoves that bellowed flames to keep up with the hunger of the many passer-by's who would grace such an establishment with empty stomachs and full wallets. Already seated at and around this restaurant were several hunters, felynes and shakalakas. Some seemed to be conversing, particularly a rather large man and a small shakalaka with a barbecue spit on its head, passing food to each other, and others kept to themselves. Looking around, Veisu noted that to his disliking, the only available seating was near the chatty-folk. He thought about turning away, but the growl within is abdomen insisted on siting and eating. With a soft sigh, Veisu rested his helm and arms on the counter, and sat upon the stool. He was quickly sought by a felyne wearing an oversized chef's hat. The cat purred and scratched its ear as it spoke. "Welcome! What can we make for you today?" "Serve me your finest Queen Shrimp, and a side of Heaven's Bread," he requested calmly. His emotional contrast to his waiter shook the felyne, almost toppling its hat. Veisu rested several coins onto the counter between them as the felyne nodded. It swiped the coins off the counter and into a pocket, and retreated off to prepare his meal. This dish was one he would ingest frequently, to him, the best offense was a good defense, and the exotic mix of flavors would also grant him the morale to weaken his foes when blended into a stew. He glanced over at the other hunters and their companions as he waited for his food to arrive.</s> <\|message\|>Alice Yagami People started to crowd around her previously empty table. This would have bugged her, if Shamba hadn't given her a small plate of food to hold her over until her meal finished. She took a handful and stuffed them in her mouth, chewing them vigorously. She swallowed them almost whole, her annoyance diminishing at the kind offer from the hulking hunter. She waited for the joining hunters to tell their tale of recent hunts before he began. "I just got back from a Gobul capture quest," she moaned, grabbing the Shock Trap she had came prepared with and setting it on the table. "That's up for grabs, by the way. Hell if I ever use them. Anyways, the darn thing bit me, so I had to kill it. Let me tell you, Gobul bites hurt." She turns back to the meat on the spit, inspecting it closely and giving it a few turns before turning back to the crowd. "This is Shamba. Name's Alice," she introduced. She pointed to the varying faces around the table. "What about you guys?" As she finished, she took a slice of the turkey she had been given and nibbled at it as she listened.</s> <\|message\|>Osmund Steele Osmund Steele Osmund nodded his large head at the newly relieved hunter, Alice, and the others speaking around him. He enjoyed the sharing of his food, it made for easier interactions and bonds to be formed. A person should not be as annoyed as she looked when they were off-duty, so anything to change that was an effort worth making. He finished his food and looked to the chef with a thumbs up and a nod of appreciation before turning back to those talking. "I am Osmund." A smaller voice made him turn his head to the side and look down. He looked very far down. What he saw was a smaller girl, quite a cute young woman. She had asked for a piggyback, and given her size it would be no difficult task to pick her up, even with his armor on. He smiled down at her before standing, and as he did he couldn't help but laugh. This little girl barely came up to his knees! Such a tiny person. With a pleased chuckle, he knelt down to expose his massive back and looked back at the small girl. "Hop on, child."</s> <\|message\|>Tybalt Cynthia Leoneart & Tybalt Both Cynthia and Tybalt wave to Alice's Shakalaka with a smile. This group seemed very friendly! Now if she can go hunting for larger, more dangerous monsters, with these people, she is sure that it will cure her boredom, as well as for the rest. As she chuckles after seeing the little child come in, a cold chill ran along her spine. She moves her eyes to the back of her, only to see that a dark looking Wyverian was glancing at the group. Looking at he alone was pretty startling, with his purplish-black Gore Magala armor and white-paled face. He did look scary. Cynthia ran her eyes back to her food and looks at Tybalt uneasily. "Do you know who that guy is behind us?" she asks her palico curiously. The palico takes a quick gander at the warrior and shakes his head. "Nya, I do not recognize him>" he answers, "Though he does look frightening to say the least." "Impressive for he to acquire Gore Magala armor, weather though money or forging." "Indeed, but lets pay attention to what we have at hand. Pay him no mind, meow." Cynthia takes one last quick glance at the Wyverian and then continues the conservation with the other hunters.</s> <\|message\|>Veisu "My name is Veisu..." He interjected into the group's conversation. "I'm a G-Ranked hunter, and a practiced smith. You lot look new here." His tone seemed a bit cold or possibly apathetic, but did not harbor any malice. As he said this, the felyine chef returned, carrying a platter. Upon this platter was a rather generous bowl of stew, featuring large clumps of shrimp wrapped in hollowed bread crusts. Veisu turned back to his meal, and began to dine in, but keeping his ear open to response.</s>	<\|message\|>Alice Yagami "Ah, Smithy-Man! Veisu!" Alice stood as Veisu announced himself. She hadn't become aquainted with any of the weapon or armor smith's in Minegarde, but in Port Tanzia, the local Wyvernian Artist and her got along fairly well. To Alice, her weapons had a foreign zing to them, and she wanted to perhaps show it off. Also, she was prpbably due for an upgrade. Monster's were suddenly becoming more resistant to the blade. Why not see what she needed now? "I know your eating, but how does this look?" She unseated her Usurper's Boltstriker + and handed it to Shamba, who bounced over to Veisu and presented the weapon to him. "What would you need to upgrade that later?"</s>
<\|description\|>Elize Abbott Age: 22 Sex: Female Rank: High Weapons/Armor: Tamanoya (longbow), she enjoys wearing the Bnahabra armor often. Palicoes: One! Personality: Almost always, Elize has a straight face and is serious about her hunts. She doesn't like being 'bossy,' but she prefers to give orders. If they aren't followed, Elize will mind slightly, but not as much as she would if she wasn't completely focused on the quest/hunt. She gets concerned about other people being hurt, and sometimes she can risk her life just to insure someone doesn't get killed during a quest. Elize can be seen as someone who doesn't seem to like friends, or have any use for them, but it is quite the opposite. She greatly enjoys having company before quests and during quests, even if its one of those ones where you have to get in, survive, get a ticket and then get out, it's fun to chat during those. Despite looking like an unbreakable wall, she can get scared. Very easily, in fact. The only reason she has Bnahabra armor is because she HATES bugs and wants all of them to die, that's why she went after every single one of them. Wearing that armor helps her know she slaughtered these innocent forms of life, but bugs are straight from hell, so we never care about those. She can also be afraid when a monster gets too close. She's afraid of bugs. She's also afraid of the Deviljho, for reasons of a hunt she went on a while ago. Likes: Killing bugs, people with greatswords, a decent hunt, giving orders, meat, fish, felynes. Dislikes: Bugs, Deviljho, the 'Blazing Black Dragon' History: Elize grew up the daughter of a female hunter, whose name was Mary Abbott. She, unfortunately, never knew her father, as he died shortly after he was born during a hunt against something called the 'Blazing Black Dragon.' Elize hasn't found out the name of it yet. Her mother taught her how to handle a longbow, and how to hunt successfully as the leader of a group of hunters. This is why she prefers to give lots of orders. There was also a moment where Elize was going to die, during a Deviljho quest with three others. She was doing the old hit and run tactic, but during her running she tripped. Over a bug. See why she hates those things? Elize almost died because of that huge bug, right in the way of her running, as the Deviljho went straight for her. If it wasn't for one of the hunters who attacked with a greatsword and stopped the Deviljho from getting too close, giving Elize enough time to escape. She will remember that moment for the rest of her life, and has a soft spot for any people that wield a greatsword. Other: ^ has voice LYRIAN PROFILE Name: Matt Species: Felyne Age: 25 Sex: Male Weapons/Armor: None, as he is a Felyne Cook. Specialization: Cooking. Master: Elize Abbott Personality: A very happy, friendly, and experienced Felyne. He's been with many other Hunters, but their lives seemed to be short lived because they weren't very good Hunters. He's been able to deal with deaths very well due to this. Matt likes cooking, a ton, and enjoys cooking for Elize especially. He is on very good terms with her, and has been with her for about 4 or so years now. Likes: Elize, cooking, wyverns. Dislikes: stubborn Hunters. They go squish. Sound is fun. History: As I stated, Matt has been with a ton of Hunters in his lifetime, and knows what mistakes they have made in the past, so he gives Elize advice whenever he can. Matt has been on good terms with Elize for as long as he's been her cook, and so Elize has had many conversations with him. One day, four years ago, Elize hired a cute little Felyne who went by the name of Matt. With Matt, she has gone through tons of bad hunts, tons of good hunts, and that one Deviljho hunt we never talk about. At first, Matt wasn't so sure about Elize, but her love for Felynes and anything related to them proved him wrong, and he enjoyed being a chef for her. Matt expected her to die shortly, but it turned out she had the knowledge to make the right choices and listen to his advice against monsters, which helped her not go squishy squishy. Other: this is the greatest song no others compare ily NND</s> <\|message\|>Tybalt Cynthia Leoneart & Tybalt After skinning the G. Jaggi dry, Cynthia and Tybalt began to head back to Minnegrade with their small hull. Finally this boring mission is coming to a close, for all they need to do now is get paid and head back to her apartment. She stops by the client, who thanked her for the materials, and gave her 1,000 Zeni. Just a measly... 1,000. Eh. For a mission like so, it was to be expected, as the more dangerous the monster, the bigger the reward. She nods and thanks the villager kindly as she and her partner walk off. Now she was excruciatingly bored as hell. Soon, her belly begins to growl, as it snaps several unpleasant bites inside her stomach. She remembered she didn't eat a very good breakfast, only a small slice of toast. "Tybalt..." she asks her palico, "Aren't you feeling kinda peckish?" "Yeah I sorta am, nya. Why? You hungry too?" "I am. Lets use our pay to grab something to eat. Our favorite stop is just ahead." Tybalt nods as the two enter their favorite diner, following the delightful smells of the delicious food inside. Cynthia had her favorite dish; marinated steak with a side of fresh greens and Panish to drink, while Tybalt had a King Truffle with some blessed wine. The two sit at a table together and begin to eat. Behind them, was a group of hunters, not more than 3, that were by a table. Cynthia began to consider meeting the hunters, but didn't want to be so hasty. With her ears directed on the conversation, she waits. --- Regionald High in the mountains of Mist Peaks, a swift breeze echoes throughout the valley. As small herd of Kelbi graze on the grasses in the forest below, with migrating Aptonoth marching through the woods, and Bullfangoes forging for mushrooms and truffles. In the trees, a lone male Kechawacha can be seen sleeping in the canopy, his ears disguising his closed eyes. Everything seemed to be in order and under control. Who would dare disrupt the peace? Suddenly, the Kelbi herd sense something coming. The scent of a mighty predator! The next to sense it were the Aptonoths, who groaned in distress as they began to run. The Kelbi began galloping away with them, squealing in fear, as both species began to run for cover. The only one truly unaware of the situation was the Kechawacha, who had just awakened after hearing the distress from the forest floor. Yet before he could analyze the situation, several large talons come from the sky, grasping the primate's back. The Kechawacha wails in agony as he is suddenly swooped up into the sky, seeing the whole forest below him. He flails his arms and legs about, trying to desperately get free. Yet with a sudden jolt of pain, the predator bites his neck, digging its sharp teeth into his throat. The primate's wails turn into gurgles of blood as he begins to slowly pass out from the lack of air in his lungs. In just a short minute, the Kechawacha finally succumbs to his death as his corpse hangs in the mighty talons of his attacker. The attacker was a mighty Rathalos, whose territory was not far from where his prey was, just higher up into the mountains. His name was Regionald... or some hunters like to call him, "The White Striker". Yes, this Rathalos is guilty for attacking humans and several farms in the last few years and is notorious for his sudden ambushes. No hunter has ever taken him down successfully, let alone get caught. He continues to fly higher into the mountains, where snow begins to form as he approaches his cave. This Kechawacha will make a very chewy yet tasty meal for himself. He drops the corpse by the entrance as he lands with a quiet thump. Before eating, he makes a loud roar, alerting anyone within the area to stay away. Once he has asserted his dominance, he begins to eat in peace, knowing that his domain is still in check.</s> <\|message\|>Veisu TING... TING... TING... TING... Hsssssssssssssss Hot steam filled the forge as a massive blade of the exotic dragonite metal quenched its heated thirst in a pool of water. To them, it was a job, a service. To Veisu, it was an art. He removed the blade from its bath, pivoting his sweat coated torso as he carried his craft to a stone bench. It was here that he would assemble the mechanics inside the weapon. This was no ordinary sword and shield; it featured many unique functions. Firstly, the blade of the sword contained small slits, in which blood would collect from fighting monsters. These slits led to a reservoir inside the handle, and the wielder could discern if this vial was full by a resonant red glow that would emanate from the blade. The hunter would then sheathe the blade into a scabbard installed in the shield, and open the valves inside the blade. This would deposit the blood into a chemical bath hidden in the shield, and the resulting admixture would fill up to five phials inside the shield. Next, the shield contains a latch that secures the sword into the scabbard. One side of the shield was kept sharp for this purpose, for when secured, the hunter could swing the sword and shield as a great-axe. Lastly, the hunter could release bursts of the chemical mixture stored in the phials while swinging this pseduo-axe to deal explosive or energetic damage to the target. "Here." Veisu said, handing the finished product to a man standing on the opposite side of a counter. The man nodded and set a pouch on the counter, and departed with his weapon. Upon inspection, Veisu noted the contents of the pouch to be a large sum of coin. Minegarde was one of the first cities to support the Hunter's Guild. And as such, it was one of the most populated. As a hunter of his rank, the Guild would allow Veisu to travel as he pleased, knowing he would commit to hunts and other services wherever he was. To their surprise, he had shown much more commitment than expected: whenever Veisu wasn't hunting or sleeping, he was gathering and forging. He had been this way since he joined the Guild, and being stationed in Minegarde was no different. Well, it was no different for him. For others, gossip of his presence and his work would infest any town or city he visited.</s> <\|message\|>Alice Yagami Meat sizzled as Alice turned it delicately over the coals, waiting for the brink of when Rare turned to Well-Done, just how she liked it. If she had it her way, she would have it cooked it as short as possible. She thought it had tasted better that way. However, Well-Done Steak gave you more energy and stamina, which was a necessity for hunters of all kinds, so Alice decided to cook it to a Well-Done state in the least time possible. She had become an expert of lifting the juicy meat off the spit at just the right time. Shamba's focus was interrupted by a voice closer than the background noise. The voice was deep and strong, unlike Alice's more feminine voice. Shamba opened his eyes from his state of meditation. Unable to turn his head due to his mask being used, he spoke to the visitor with his head straight forward. "Kya! Hello, new hunter!" Shamba greeted cheerily. Alice glared at the steak, almost cooking it altogether with her electric gaze. Her anger had subsided to minor annoyance, but she decided not to speak. Alice lifted the steaks off of Shamba's head, who promptly stood and turned to face the newcomer. Surprisingly, there were two new faces nearby: One of a well-built male hunter who looked to be around Alice's age. The other was a Popo of a man, his entire body bulging with muscles built from years of training. He seemed to had just finished a meal."Alice say hi, as well!" He looked at the two steaks Alice held, looking over to the new faces. "If hunters like, we share steak-alaka!" Alice let out a surpressed growl at Shamba's cheery attitude. She had only cooked two steaks, and hadn't eaten anything at all. With a small "hmph," she handed the steaks to Shamba, who waddled to their guests and offered the steak to them. Alice meanwhile reached in to a bag strapped to her waist, pulling out two bottles of thick, reddish-brown liquid, a mixture of Honey and Hot Peppers. It was supposed to be a topping for the steaks steak, which Alice set on the table, giving them a push to both of the Hunters that had joined her. "Shamba," she said in an edgy tone, "I need to cook some more." Shamba skipped happily back to his original sitting position as Alice pulled out two more steaks. "So," she talked over her shoulder as she set the steaks on the mask-spit, "come back from any quests lately?"</s>	<\|message\|>Elize Abbott In no time, Matt had been finished with the steak and came in, bouncing on Elize's Poogie, exclaiming for other hunters and Palicoes to step out of the way. "Coming through, meow! Well-done steak for Meowster Elize!" When Matt got to where Elize had been sitting, he stepped up on the Poogie's head and set the steak on a plate in front of Elize. She patted her Felyne on the head, and said, "Many thanks, Matt. Return home." Now, she noticed there were other hunters, and she greeted them with a solemn "Welcome, fellow hunters." When she heard the hunter with what looked like one of those dancing creatures said, she sighed. "No," she said, before taking a bite of her steak, "Someone took a capture quest, and another took a hunting quest. I wasn't very interested in the others, and I am still exhausted from yesterday's questing. I never thought Minegarde could get that busy, and go back to what it is today that quickly, to be honest. Lots of quests involving those easy monsters." Elize noticed Matt had also given her some Honey, to put on her steak, and a small bowl of soup as well. She drowned her well-done steak in honey, before taking a great bite of it, interested in hearing the other hunters' adventures so far today. When she swallowed the bite, she then downed a whole bunch of her soup.</s>
<\|description\|>Osmund Steele Appearance: A monster of a man, standing at nearly 7' tall with shoulders wide enough to make some doors hard for him to fit through, Osmund looks like he would be more at home behind a forge or on a hunting boat with his brown skin the colour of beaten bronze. Build like a brickhouse, shoulders like boulders and a chest like a barrel, he looks built for wrestling with Tetsucabra and Barroth. His kind eyes are a dull blue, leaning more towards grey and his nose has a hump to it, looking slightly broken and twisted. His hair is shaven into a short, frayed mohawk. He has the drooping, pointed ears and chiselled facial features characteristic of those from his family and families like it, Smithies. He tries to stay clean-shaven, but often can be seen wearing a five-o'clock shadow or rugged stubble. Race: Same as 'The Man'. Age: 25 Sex: Male. Rank: High Rank. Weapons/Armor: Axelion Blade (Charge Blade), Nitro Boost Hammer (Hammer) and the Diablos Armor Set. Palicoes: None. Personality: Osmund is not the smartest. He isn't exactly dumb, but he's no genius. Quiet and stoic, he speaks when speaking is needed and when he feels that his words will matter, but rarely speaks otherwise. He is kind, he is fond of smiling and is not above engaging in a hearty laugh. Most of the time he is just one to have fun, not overly concerned with getting bogged down by his problems or worries. Easy-going is a very good descriptor of his usual personality. When in battle, he is a silent giant swinging his weapon with enough force to put down even the toughest of monsters... eventually. A tranquil storm upon the field, his temper can sometimes get the best of him, leading him to launch into a berserk rage. Normally he takes care to mind his teammates when swinging his weapon about, but when he's mad he relinquishes some of this composure and control. This anger switch seems to become more sensitive depending on how large the monster in question is. History: Osmund comes from a family of craftsmen. He's the youngest of 5 children, but also the biggest. His lifelong ambition was to take to the field and hunt for his own materials with which to forge his hunting equipment. He didn't plan too much further than that. As said before, he isn't so bright. When he got into the hunting life he just sort of, stuck there after taking a shine to it. It put food on the table, money in his pocket and prestige in his name. Eventually he abandoned smithing and such altogether, becoming a full-time hunter. His family is saddened at his leaving of the family business, but pleased that he has found his place in the world and something that he is good at. Hunting has become who he is to such a great extent that he has nearly forgotten his past trade, but he seems to know most of the craftsmen around rather well. Other: Theme-songs: Normally and then Angry.</s> <\|message\|>Tybalt The wailing shriek of a Great Jaggi takes his last breath as it falls to the ground with a thump. His body was covered in many slashes and had already lost a lot of blood. The smaller, regular, Jaggies and Jaggia hiss as they retreat back into the bushes. Standing proudly on him, her left foot on the corpse, Cynthia looks down upon her opponent. She had faced many of these Great Jaggies in the past, so this was no biggie. Even the battle seemed boring for her. Beside her was her trusted felyne palico, Tybalt, the same one that assisted Cynthia's father almost 10 years ago. "God damnit..." she sighs with dissatisfaction as she turns back to the way she came, "These Great Jaggies are all too easy. Where are all the big monsters?" Tybalt's nose twitches as he checks the fallen foe for its scales. "You know quite well that you won't find them here, nya...." answers the Palico as he picks up a Jaggi scale, "The meownsters are father off, deeper into the Western Schrade. You'll rarely find them this close to Minegarde." "I know Tybalt, I know. Besides, the quest wanted us to kill a Great Jaggi anyways. There hadn't been many quests that have to hunt bigger monsters these days. Like I wouldn't mind to hunt a Rathalos or a Tigrex or... I don't know, a Barroth or something." "I'm sure they'll come soon, nya? Just be patient. Now please... help me skin the Jaggi's hide." Cynthia nods as she begins helping Tybalt skin the Great Jaggi before heading back to Minegarde.</s> <\|message\|>Alice Yagami Alice stomped off of the boat and in to the small town of Minegarde, her arms crossed, grumbling to herself. She had sheathed across her back her Long Sword, Usurper's Boltstriker, which was still glowing after her hunt. It was a capture quest for a Gobul, and oddly, she never bothered to use her Shock Trap or any of her Tranq Bombs. She had only one fate in mind for that smelly fish: Death. A few weeks ago, she had been transferred by the Hunter's Guild to Minegarde from her home town of Port Tanzia due to complaints from hunting parties she had joined. She growled with anger as she remembered the letter that had sent her off... Dear Mrs. Alice Yagami, We have recieved an alarming number of regular complaints about your behaviors while partaking in capture quests. These complaints include, but are not limited to you seemingly killing the required monster purposefully, with the goal of capture clear in your mind. Because of this, we have decided to relocate you to the town of Minegarde, where you will hopefully pick up the art of the capture from native hunters. As consolation for your relocation, the guild has also decided to provide you with free Trap Tools and Tranq Bombs should you need them. Regards, The Hunter's Guild. Shamba scurried off the boat, joining his master's side. "Try not to fret-alaka, Alice," he consoled. "As young Shakalaka, Shamba master dance much more slower than Priest-alaka. With practice and much work, Shamba become best young dancer in village!" Alice waved her companions words away and took a seat near the tavern, where she began to pull out two hunks of raw meat. "Alright Shamba, sit. Lunch time." Shamba obediently sat cross-legged in front of Alice, closing his eyes for a bout of meditation. Alice meanwhile set the meat on the makeshift spit that was Shamba's mask, slowly turning the meat above the coals.</s> <\|message\|>Elize Abbott Minegarde. Why. ---- Elize Abbott, daughter of a bow user, daughter of a man who died to this blazing black dragon, a bow user herself, a woman who almost died to the Deviljho, hated bugs. She made it her mission, no, her purpose to kill every bug she saw. Most of the time it was stepping on them, hitting them with an arrow, whatever way she could, she killed those little ugly things. She just stepped on a bug. Hooray. Elize sighed. Today was a slow day. She had wanted to go capture a monster, but some hunter took the quest right before her. She then was going to hunt, but some other hunter took that quest from her too, and the rest were just collecting things. So, today being dumb, Elize decided to rest for a day. There weren't any good quests lately, as well. After she stepped on that bug, she looked in the direction of where Matt usually was and said, "Matt? Are you cooking something?" "Yes! I'm cooking some fresh meat, nya." Meat? Meat. She'll wait.</s>	<\|message\|>Osmund Steele Aahhh, Minegarde. Such a spartan, dusty mess of a town. It was hard for Osmund to believe he had arrived at the correct place as he jumped out from the back of the caravan he was travelling with. The caravan bobbed as his significant weight left it, his sand-coloured Diablos armour clattering as his heavy boots hit the floor. This place was so different to his home of Loc-Lac, but he wasn't fussed with complaining about it. He was always taught to respect authority, and when the Hunter's Guild says reassignment, he was damn sure going to follow through with that reassignment. Well, as always, the first thing to do when he came to a new port was to check with the local stores and crafts. The smiths, the general store, the other traders, everyone. Osmund wanted to become familiar with all of the people he was going to be working alongside before actually setting out to work in this new locale. The smell of burning coals and hot iron brought him back to his home, before being overpowered by the smell of the arid desert air and the scents of food from the canteen and tavern. From all over the immediate area, he seemed to draw stares from the old, young and middle-aged alike. This he was used to, as it was territory that came with his significant size. His stomach growled at him like an angry Rathian, and he patted it with a gigantic hand. Might as well christen this new locale with his first meal. Tromping over to the food scents, he rejoiced silently as he found that they made his favourite dish. Fried King Turkey with a side of stuffed Queen Shrimp, helped him to keep that shield up and stand his ground for as long as he needed to. Food kept him on his feet and kept him hunting, so you could never have enough. He ordered a large plate as he took a seat, looking over his massive shoulder at the women nearby, one sat upon the floor and another standing off to the side. They looked to be hunters, judging by their gear and company. Osmund looked to the two of them and gave a stiff nod of the head, raising a hand to both acknowledge them and greet. A deep voice rumbled from within him, like the sound of an Uragaan snoring. "Greetings." </s>
<\|description\|>Osmund Steele Appearance: A monster of a man, standing at nearly 7' tall with shoulders wide enough to make some doors hard for him to fit through, Osmund looks like he would be more at home behind a forge or on a hunting boat with his brown skin the colour of beaten bronze. Build like a brickhouse, shoulders like boulders and a chest like a barrel, he looks built for wrestling with Tetsucabra and Barroth. His kind eyes are a dull blue, leaning more towards grey and his nose has a hump to it, looking slightly broken and twisted. His hair is shaven into a short, frayed mohawk. He has the drooping, pointed ears and chiselled facial features characteristic of those from his family and families like it, Smithies. He tries to stay clean-shaven, but often can be seen wearing a five-o'clock shadow or rugged stubble. Race: Same as 'The Man'. Age: 25 Sex: Male. Rank: High Rank. Weapons/Armor: Axelion Blade (Charge Blade), Nitro Boost Hammer (Hammer) and the Diablos Armor Set. Palicoes: None. Personality: Osmund is not the smartest. He isn't exactly dumb, but he's no genius. Quiet and stoic, he speaks when speaking is needed and when he feels that his words will matter, but rarely speaks otherwise. He is kind, he is fond of smiling and is not above engaging in a hearty laugh. Most of the time he is just one to have fun, not overly concerned with getting bogged down by his problems or worries. Easy-going is a very good descriptor of his usual personality. When in battle, he is a silent giant swinging his weapon with enough force to put down even the toughest of monsters... eventually. A tranquil storm upon the field, his temper can sometimes get the best of him, leading him to launch into a berserk rage. Normally he takes care to mind his teammates when swinging his weapon about, but when he's mad he relinquishes some of this composure and control. This anger switch seems to become more sensitive depending on how large the monster in question is. History: Osmund comes from a family of craftsmen. He's the youngest of 5 children, but also the biggest. His lifelong ambition was to take to the field and hunt for his own materials with which to forge his hunting equipment. He didn't plan too much further than that. As said before, he isn't so bright. When he got into the hunting life he just sort of, stuck there after taking a shine to it. It put food on the table, money in his pocket and prestige in his name. Eventually he abandoned smithing and such altogether, becoming a full-time hunter. His family is saddened at his leaving of the family business, but pleased that he has found his place in the world and something that he is good at. Hunting has become who he is to such a great extent that he has nearly forgotten his past trade, but he seems to know most of the craftsmen around rather well. Other: Theme-songs: Normally and then Angry.</s> <\|message\|>Osmund Steele Osmund Steele The meal was delicious, tender meat of the turkey and the succulent aromas of the shrimp making him feel as if he were hunting back home in Loc-Lac. He munched happily, but silently. In the hunting world, you had to be ready and keep your strength up at all times. You never knew when you'd have to hop up and run off to attend to an urgent quest. Images of his early career flashed into Osmund's mind, being rushed off to fight on the dragonboats with countless others. Back when his lance was his only friend. That lance was broken now, snapped delivering the blow that chased off a Jhen Mohran. He was in the care of medical Felynes for days afterward. He smiled softly, pushing the visor of his helmet out of his face. How... how was he eating through his helmet before? He used a nearby cloth to wipe at his mouth before smiling. He was sure he was being addressed by one of the other hunters present, but he didn't exactly see which one it was. Then he looked down to see a short Shakalaka offering him some meat. With a soft smile he reached down to grab the meat, nodding slightly to the little Lynian. "Thank you, little friend. Here." He took a handful of his shrimp and put them onto a nearby smaller plate for the young Shamba to take, along with some of his turkey. He definitely had enough to be generous. He was a big man, but this meal was a touch too big for him. It was strange to him, that every Felyne kitchen he went to thought that he would eat like a Deviljho, and so they gave him too much food every time. He sighed as he looked down as his nearly finished food, before looking over at the woman who had spoken before her Shakalaka. He shook his head at the woman's question. His last quest was to capture a particularly irate Duramoboros that was interrupting trade caravans on their trip between destinations. That was all the way back in Loc-Lac, and since arriving here in Minegarde a few minutes ago, he hadn't been on any hunts that he could remember. He gave a slightly disappointed shake of the head to her, rumbling out a succinct, "No," before gesturing to his company attempting to get their attention. "What about all of you? Hunt lately?"</s> <\|message\|>Tybalt Cynthia Leoneart & Tybalt Cynthia continues eating her meal whilst listen to the conversation behind her. Then one of them asks the other hunters whether they hunted lately or not. The girl is the first to answer as she turns around. "I just came back from one. A boring one though, had to kill a measly Great Jaggi. Got a decentish pay for turning in the scales and hide to a salesman." Cynthia takes a quick bite of her food right after she finished with Tybalt listening in as well. --- ??? Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump... A lone monster treks just on the outskirts of Minegarde, remaining hidden from behind the rocks. He growls quietly as he sniffs the air, looking upon the bustling town. It was rush hour. Carts slow to a halt as traffic begins to clog up the entrance. Many of which contained valuable supplies, such as food, water, metals, you name it. Yet little did they realize that a monster was hiding just behind the rocks. He seemed to be ready for an ambush, as his eyes squint, his maw drools and his claws ready to spring. Was he going to attack the traffic head-on?! Nah. With a snort, the monster turns the other way and heads back into the hills. It was way too risky to ambush traffic in rush hour, let alone this close to a hunter's paradise. This monster knew better, for he is a legendary Zinogre, known as WOLFENSTEIN. He never liked to battle hunters, yet he often watches caravan traffic from a hidden location, watching them go buy with their goods. He never did anything wrong to the humans... yet he is the one who gets hunted. Already he's been hunted 4 times and all of them were either from accidental bump-ins or that a hunter was looking for a Zinogre to hunt anyways. This makes Wolfenstein furious! Yet there was nothing else he could do but either flee or, in a worst-case scenario, fight. The only time he fought with another hunter was only for very briefly, only charging up a lightning attack and striking it at it, allowing him to quickly escape into the rocky heights. Despite his timid personality with humans, he's definitely not a coward... He's just a pacifist. (Will make a profile for Wolfenstein the Zinogre!)</s> <\|message\|>Grand 'Mort' Myers Grand Myers After being given permission, he sat down, not too close to the group of hunters who had 'suddenly' popped up. "Kya! Hello, new hunter! Alice say hi, as well!" said the Shakalaka, swiftly bowing his head and saying "Hello to you too." to then he was handed a piece of meat, rather well cooked, by the Shakalaka. He gracefully accepted and just quietly watched the hunters, who carried themselves with a certain grace, though it didn't seem apparent. "I just got drafted here, so I-" he said before he got cut off, a young girl burst through the doors on the inn, hands on her side hips. Her head poking around looking for someone, she had gathered some looks from hunters but she didn't really notice nor care. Her head springing around till her gaze met with Grand. Jerek was right behind her, showing a sullen look. She ran up to Grand and practically tackled him, "Nii, I thought you left like Dad.." she said to him, teary eyed. "Don't worry, I won't go anywhere." slightly smiling at her. Quickly getting out of her slump, Jerek apologized and said "Sorry master, I couldn't do anything-nya." Grand patting his head, "It's alright." Another hunter chimes in, and the people in the table increases by one. Just silently keeping quiet and observing the table full of capable hunters who might be stronger than him. Aviana walking around the table and with sparkling eyes saw the large hulking Hunter and asked, "Can I have a piggy back ride!?" ---</s> <\|message\|>Veisu Veisu carefully counted the coin in the newly acquired pouch twice, confirming the price of his project each time. Satisfied with this, he stowed the coins away, next to small vials of healing potion, tools to spring traps, and other hunting gear, into a small sack that he would take with him on quests. He then withdrew his armor and Stahlurteil, his most preferred weapon, from a large case that he kept in his forge. He donned his blade and all of his armor but his helm, which he carried under his arm. He carefully closed and locked up the door and windows of his forge and headed into the city main. As he drew closer to the main plaza centered in the core of Minegarde, he heard forming around him the voices of commerce and the slaps of shoes against the pavement. The dusty stone-worked streets kicked up clouds of dirt as many travelers, hunters, and merchants made their ways to their various obligations. Veisu walked unimpeded by the presence of such peoples, although his presence did earn him glances and glares from most of those he strode past. The sun was at it's peak when he reached the plaza. Its heat beat down on those brave enough to loiter out of the shade, and Veisu was no less vulnerable to such warmth than any other. He quickly made his way to a dining area, where the heat of the sun was rivaled by the ovens and stoves that bellowed flames to keep up with the hunger of the many passer-by's who would grace such an establishment with empty stomachs and full wallets. Already seated at and around this restaurant were several hunters, felynes and shakalakas. Some seemed to be conversing, particularly a rather large man and a small shakalaka with a barbecue spit on its head, passing food to each other, and others kept to themselves. Looking around, Veisu noted that to his disliking, the only available seating was near the chatty-folk. He thought about turning away, but the growl within is abdomen insisted on siting and eating. With a soft sigh, Veisu rested his helm and arms on the counter, and sat upon the stool. He was quickly sought by a felyne wearing an oversized chef's hat. The cat purred and scratched its ear as it spoke. "Welcome! What can we make for you today?" "Serve me your finest Queen Shrimp, and a side of Heaven's Bread," he requested calmly. His emotional contrast to his waiter shook the felyne, almost toppling its hat. Veisu rested several coins onto the counter between them as the felyne nodded. It swiped the coins off the counter and into a pocket, and retreated off to prepare his meal. This dish was one he would ingest frequently, to him, the best offense was a good defense, and the exotic mix of flavors would also grant him the morale to weaken his foes when blended into a stew. He glanced over at the other hunters and their companions as he waited for his food to arrive.</s> <\|message\|>Alice Yagami People started to crowd around her previously empty table. This would have bugged her, if Shamba hadn't given her a small plate of food to hold her over until her meal finished. She took a handful and stuffed them in her mouth, chewing them vigorously. She swallowed them almost whole, her annoyance diminishing at the kind offer from the hulking hunter. She waited for the joining hunters to tell their tale of recent hunts before he began. "I just got back from a Gobul capture quest," she moaned, grabbing the Shock Trap she had came prepared with and setting it on the table. "That's up for grabs, by the way. Hell if I ever use them. Anyways, the darn thing bit me, so I had to kill it. Let me tell you, Gobul bites hurt." She turns back to the meat on the spit, inspecting it closely and giving it a few turns before turning back to the crowd. "This is Shamba. Name's Alice," she introduced. She pointed to the varying faces around the table. "What about you guys?" As she finished, she took a slice of the turkey she had been given and nibbled at it as she listened.</s>	<\|message\|>Osmund Steele Osmund nodded his large head at the newly relieved hunter, Alice, and the others speaking around him. He enjoyed the sharing of his food, it made for easier interactions and bonds to be formed. A person should not be as annoyed as she looked when they were off-duty, so anything to change that was an effort worth making. He finished his food and looked to the chef with a thumbs up and a nod of appreciation before turning back to those talking. "I am Osmund." A smaller voice made him turn his head to the side and look down. He looked very far down. What he saw was a smaller girl, quite a cute young woman. She had asked for a piggyback, and given her size it would be no difficult task to pick her up, even with his armor on. He smiled down at her before standing, and as he did he couldn't help but laugh. This little girl barely came up to his knees! Such a tiny person. With a pleased chuckle, he knelt down to expose his massive back and looked back at the small girl. "Hop on, child."</s>
<\|description\|>Veisu Race: Wyverian Age: 21 Sex: Male Rank: G-Rank Equipment: Gore Magala Armor Stahlurteil Sieger-Ankh Aasklauen Eisenherz Unheilskraft Palicoes: -- Personality: Lawful Evil. Most hunters would describe Veisu as cold, rude and pompous. In reality, he is simply focused and self-disciplined. When others are eating, drinking and parting, Veisu is studying, crafting and training. His reclusive and strict "work and no play" attitude have earned him little in the way of friends, but the whole guild knows of his hunting and forging prowess. He is frequently sought after by aspiring hunters looking for his hand to grace their armor and weapons, or for his assistance in hunting a powerful monster, but to their dismay, he is equally frequent in the denial of such requests. History: Veisu was born and raised in a wyverian village high up in the mountains, near the village of Pokke. He was only a child when his village was attacked by the infamous Gore Magala, and he was one of the only survivors. He and the remaining wyverians moved to Pokke, and it was there that Veisu devoted himself to the defeat of the Magala. Sure enough, the monster returned. And on this day, Veisu was ready. He set out ahead to meet the beast in the wilderness, and after several days, the villagers of Pokke thought him slain. It was only after all hope was abandoned would the townspeople see a battle-scared silhouette stand by the gates, with the rising sun at his back. With a dead Gore Magala at his doorstep, Veisu did what any other self-respecting wyverian would do: he donned his foe's visage, in honor of a battle well-fought. Veisu then moved to the big cities. He joined and quickly rose the ranks of the Hunter's Guild, being able to take on the most dangerous of monsters and also working as a guild smith. Theme: Gwyn: Lord of Cinder - Dark Souls</s> <\|message\|>Osmund Steele Osmund Steele Aahhh, Minegarde. Such a spartan, dusty mess of a town. It was hard for Osmund to believe he had arrived at the correct place as he jumped out from the back of the caravan he was travelling with. The caravan bobbed as his significant weight left it, his sand-coloured Diablos armour clattering as his heavy boots hit the floor. This place was so different to his home of Loc-Lac, but he wasn't fussed with complaining about it. He was always taught to respect authority, and when the Hunter's Guild says reassignment, he was damn sure going to follow through with that reassignment. Well, as always, the first thing to do when he came to a new port was to check with the local stores and crafts. The smiths, the general store, the other traders, everyone. Osmund wanted to become familiar with all of the people he was going to be working alongside before actually setting out to work in this new locale. The smell of burning coals and hot iron brought him back to his home, before being overpowered by the smell of the arid desert air and the scents of food from the canteen and tavern. From all over the immediate area, he seemed to draw stares from the old, young and middle-aged alike. This he was used to, as it was territory that came with his significant size. His stomach growled at him like an angry Rathian, and he patted it with a gigantic hand. Might as well christen this new locale with his first meal. Tromping over to the food scents, he rejoiced silently as he found that they made his favourite dish. Fried King Turkey with a side of stuffed Queen Shrimp, helped him to keep that shield up and stand his ground for as long as he needed to. Food kept him on his feet and kept him hunting, so you could never have enough. He ordered a large plate as he took a seat, looking over his massive shoulder at the women nearby, one sat upon the floor and another standing off to the side. They looked to be hunters, judging by their gear and company. Osmund looked to the two of them and gave a stiff nod of the head, raising a hand to both acknowledge them and greet. A deep voice rumbled from within him, like the sound of an Uragaan snoring. "Greetings." ---</s> <\|message\|>Grand 'Mort' Myers Grand Myers Elbow on the handrail on a boat that was on its way to Minegarde, Grand was drafted to the hunters guild in that area seeing as there was an influx of monsters in the area and 'apparently' they needed a good hunter there. Grand already saw through their lie, one person he had indirectly angered due to a mishap during a hunt with said person. Said persons father, who had strong connections within the Hunter guild. It doesn't take a genius to figure out why he got drafted here. Sighing he simply didn't care and took the sub-par Hunter out of his mind. "Hey hey, Nii, where are we going?" said his adorable little sister, Aviana, tugging his shirt. "Ah, Aviana you don't need to worry, we're going somewhere nice." he replied, softly smiling to his sister and promptly picking her up. "Hnn, Nii, I am already 10 years old!" she said to him after he picked her up, puckering her lips to show annoyance, though Grand only saw this as nothing but cute. Ruffling her hair then saying "I know you are" while smiling warmly, a smile he doesn't show too often. Quickly landing on the port, he raised an eyebrow to the Hunters in the area. Most of them weren't highly geared, and those who did have were few in between. The market place was lively and bustling with an air of hospitality, Grand thought it wasn't going to be as bad as he thought it wasn't going to be. "The guild wasn't fully lying were they." he whispered to himself, then looking around, he couldn't find his sister. He looked around and saw her taking to an old shop keeper and running back to Grand, "Nii, that nice old man gave me an apple!" she said, face full of smiles while holding up the apple to Grand. Lightly smiling, he walked up to the shopkeeper and promptly bowed a thanks to him, thought the shopkeeper was slightly scared by his glare he laughed it off and pat Grand on the back. Finally reaching the home that was set up by the Guild, it was a nice home, not big enough nor small enough. His felyne, Jerek, who had arrived a few days earlier quickly greeted him as he entered and he pet him after so. Finding that Aviana was fast asleep, it was inevitable with the amount of energy she spent walking around after getting off the boat. Instructing Jerek to watch her as he would check out the Hunter's guild in this area, Jerek strongly nodded and he couldn't help but pet him again. After a while of walking, his unconscious glare served to scare or intimidate some people, though Grand never noticed this. Finally finding and promptly entering the Tavern, he attracted a few eyes and Grand also scared off a few when he stared back. Finding a wall to lean back on, he observed the Inn to see any remarkable Hunters, only finding a few, like that Woman pigging out with the meat, the tall, hulking Hunter who was also pigging out and another hunter eating with her felyne. He stared at them, no one else really caught Grand's eyes. Looks like there are a few capable ones here. he thought to himself then simply shrugging, he walked on the notice board but noticed no quests that were interesting nor garnered alot of money. Deciding that he should just lightly eat, he looked around for an open table but none were and most were filled with 3-4 hunters and were full, one of the tables that weren't full was the seat next to the girl he eyed earlier. Though he would prefer not too, he surrendered to his hunger and went up next to her and asked, "Uh, is- is this seat free?" --- @LowKey123@StarinaBox</s> <\|message\|>Tybalt Cynthia Leoneart & Tybalt After skinning the G. Jaggi dry, Cynthia and Tybalt began to head back to Minnegrade with their small hull. Finally this boring mission is coming to a close, for all they need to do now is get paid and head back to her apartment. She stops by the client, who thanked her for the materials, and gave her 1,000 Zeni. Just a measly... 1,000. Eh. For a mission like so, it was to be expected, as the more dangerous the monster, the bigger the reward. She nods and thanks the villager kindly as she and her partner walk off. Now she was excruciatingly bored as hell. Soon, her belly begins to growl, as it snaps several unpleasant bites inside her stomach. She remembered she didn't eat a very good breakfast, only a small slice of toast. "Tybalt..." she asks her palico, "Aren't you feeling kinda peckish?" "Yeah I sorta am, nya. Why? You hungry too?" "I am. Lets use our pay to grab something to eat. Our favorite stop is just ahead." Tybalt nods as the two enter their favorite diner, following the delightful smells of the delicious food inside. Cynthia had her favorite dish; marinated steak with a side of fresh greens and Panish to drink, while Tybalt had a King Truffle with some blessed wine. The two sit at a table together and begin to eat. Behind them, was a group of hunters, not more than 3, that were by a table. Cynthia began to consider meeting the hunters, but didn't want to be so hasty. With her ears directed on the conversation, she waits. --- Regionald High in the mountains of Mist Peaks, a swift breeze echoes throughout the valley. As small herd of Kelbi graze on the grasses in the forest below, with migrating Aptonoth marching through the woods, and Bullfangoes forging for mushrooms and truffles. In the trees, a lone male Kechawacha can be seen sleeping in the canopy, his ears disguising his closed eyes. Everything seemed to be in order and under control. Who would dare disrupt the peace? Suddenly, the Kelbi herd sense something coming. The scent of a mighty predator! The next to sense it were the Aptonoths, who groaned in distress as they began to run. The Kelbi began galloping away with them, squealing in fear, as both species began to run for cover. The only one truly unaware of the situation was the Kechawacha, who had just awakened after hearing the distress from the forest floor. Yet before he could analyze the situation, several large talons come from the sky, grasping the primate's back. The Kechawacha wails in agony as he is suddenly swooped up into the sky, seeing the whole forest below him. He flails his arms and legs about, trying to desperately get free. Yet with a sudden jolt of pain, the predator bites his neck, digging its sharp teeth into his throat. The primate's wails turn into gurgles of blood as he begins to slowly pass out from the lack of air in his lungs. In just a short minute, the Kechawacha finally succumbs to his death as his corpse hangs in the mighty talons of his attacker. The attacker was a mighty Rathalos, whose territory was not far from where his prey was, just higher up into the mountains. His name was Regionald... or some hunters like to call him, "The White Striker". Yes, this Rathalos is guilty for attacking humans and several farms in the last few years and is notorious for his sudden ambushes. No hunter has ever taken him down successfully, let alone get caught. He continues to fly higher into the mountains, where snow begins to form as he approaches his cave. This Kechawacha will make a very chewy yet tasty meal for himself. He drops the corpse by the entrance as he lands with a quiet thump. Before eating, he makes a loud roar, alerting anyone within the area to stay away. Once he has asserted his dominance, he begins to eat in peace, knowing that his domain is still in check.</s>	<\|message\|>Veisu TING... TING... TING... TING... Hsssssssssssssss Hot steam filled the forge as a massive blade of the exotic dragonite metal quenched its heated thirst in a pool of water. To them, it was a job, a service. To Veisu, it was an art. He removed the blade from its bath, pivoting his sweat coated torso as he carried his craft to a stone bench. It was here that he would assemble the mechanics inside the weapon. This was no ordinary sword and shield; it featured many unique functions. Firstly, the blade of the sword contained small slits, in which blood would collect from fighting monsters. These slits led to a reservoir inside the handle, and the wielder could discern if this vial was full by a resonant red glow that would emanate from the blade. The hunter would then sheathe the blade into a scabbard installed in the shield, and open the valves inside the blade. This would deposit the blood into a chemical bath hidden in the shield, and the resulting admixture would fill up to five phials inside the shield. Next, the shield contains a latch that secures the sword into the scabbard. One side of the shield was kept sharp for this purpose, for when secured, the hunter could swing the sword and shield as a great-axe. Lastly, the hunter could release bursts of the chemical mixture stored in the phials while swinging this pseduo-axe to deal explosive or energetic damage to the target. "Here." Veisu said, handing the finished product to a man standing on the opposite side of a counter. The man nodded and set a pouch on the counter, and departed with his weapon. Upon inspection, Veisu noted the contents of the pouch to be a large sum of coin. Minegarde was one of the first cities to support the Hunter's Guild. And as such, it was one of the most populated. As a hunter of his rank, the Guild would allow Veisu to travel as he pleased, knowing he would commit to hunts and other services wherever he was. To their surprise, he had shown much more commitment than expected: whenever Veisu wasn't hunting or sleeping, he was gathering and forging. He had been this way since he joined the Guild, and being stationed in Minegarde was no different. Well, it was no different for him. For others, gossip of his presence and his work would infest any town or city he visited.</s>
<\|description\|>Veisu Race: Wyverian Age: 21 Sex: Male Rank: G-Rank Equipment: Gore Magala Armor Stahlurteil Sieger-Ankh Aasklauen Eisenherz Unheilskraft Palicoes: -- Personality: Lawful Evil. Most hunters would describe Veisu as cold, rude and pompous. In reality, he is simply focused and self-disciplined. When others are eating, drinking and parting, Veisu is studying, crafting and training. His reclusive and strict "work and no play" attitude have earned him little in the way of friends, but the whole guild knows of his hunting and forging prowess. He is frequently sought after by aspiring hunters looking for his hand to grace their armor and weapons, or for his assistance in hunting a powerful monster, but to their dismay, he is equally frequent in the denial of such requests. History: Veisu was born and raised in a wyverian village high up in the mountains, near the village of Pokke. He was only a child when his village was attacked by the infamous Gore Magala, and he was one of the only survivors. He and the remaining wyverians moved to Pokke, and it was there that Veisu devoted himself to the defeat of the Magala. Sure enough, the monster returned. And on this day, Veisu was ready. He set out ahead to meet the beast in the wilderness, and after several days, the villagers of Pokke thought him slain. It was only after all hope was abandoned would the townspeople see a battle-scared silhouette stand by the gates, with the rising sun at his back. With a dead Gore Magala at his doorstep, Veisu did what any other self-respecting wyverian would do: he donned his foe's visage, in honor of a battle well-fought. Veisu then moved to the big cities. He joined and quickly rose the ranks of the Hunter's Guild, being able to take on the most dangerous of monsters and also working as a guild smith. Theme: Gwyn: Lord of Cinder - Dark Souls</s> <\|message\|>Tybalt Cynthia Leoneart & Tybalt Cynthia continues eating her meal whilst listen to the conversation behind her. Then one of them asks the other hunters whether they hunted lately or not. The girl is the first to answer as she turns around. "I just came back from one. A boring one though, had to kill a measly Great Jaggi. Got a decentish pay for turning in the scales and hide to a salesman." Cynthia takes a quick bite of her food right after she finished with Tybalt listening in as well. --- ??? Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump... A lone monster treks just on the outskirts of Minegarde, remaining hidden from behind the rocks. He growls quietly as he sniffs the air, looking upon the bustling town. It was rush hour. Carts slow to a halt as traffic begins to clog up the entrance. Many of which contained valuable supplies, such as food, water, metals, you name it. Yet little did they realize that a monster was hiding just behind the rocks. He seemed to be ready for an ambush, as his eyes squint, his maw drools and his claws ready to spring. Was he going to attack the traffic head-on?! Nah. With a snort, the monster turns the other way and heads back into the hills. It was way too risky to ambush traffic in rush hour, let alone this close to a hunter's paradise. This monster knew better, for he is a legendary Zinogre, known as WOLFENSTEIN. He never liked to battle hunters, yet he often watches caravan traffic from a hidden location, watching them go buy with their goods. He never did anything wrong to the humans... yet he is the one who gets hunted. Already he's been hunted 4 times and all of them were either from accidental bump-ins or that a hunter was looking for a Zinogre to hunt anyways. This makes Wolfenstein furious! Yet there was nothing else he could do but either flee or, in a worst-case scenario, fight. The only time he fought with another hunter was only for very briefly, only charging up a lightning attack and striking it at it, allowing him to quickly escape into the rocky heights. Despite his timid personality with humans, he's definitely not a coward... He's just a pacifist. (Will make a profile for Wolfenstein the Zinogre!)</s> <\|message\|>Grand 'Mort' Myers Grand Myers After being given permission, he sat down, not too close to the group of hunters who had 'suddenly' popped up. "Kya! Hello, new hunter! Alice say hi, as well!" said the Shakalaka, swiftly bowing his head and saying "Hello to you too." to then he was handed a piece of meat, rather well cooked, by the Shakalaka. He gracefully accepted and just quietly watched the hunters, who carried themselves with a certain grace, though it didn't seem apparent. "I just got drafted here, so I-" he said before he got cut off, a young girl burst through the doors on the inn, hands on her side hips. Her head poking around looking for someone, she had gathered some looks from hunters but she didn't really notice nor care. Her head springing around till her gaze met with Grand. Jerek was right behind her, showing a sullen look. She ran up to Grand and practically tackled him, "Nii, I thought you left like Dad.." she said to him, teary eyed. "Don't worry, I won't go anywhere." slightly smiling at her. Quickly getting out of her slump, Jerek apologized and said "Sorry master, I couldn't do anything-nya." Grand patting his head, "It's alright." Another hunter chimes in, and the people in the table increases by one. Just silently keeping quiet and observing the table full of capable hunters who might be stronger than him. Aviana walking around the table and with sparkling eyes saw the large hulking Hunter and asked, "Can I have a piggy back ride!?" ---</s> <\|message\|>Veisu Veisu carefully counted the coin in the newly acquired pouch twice, confirming the price of his project each time. Satisfied with this, he stowed the coins away, next to small vials of healing potion, tools to spring traps, and other hunting gear, into a small sack that he would take with him on quests. He then withdrew his armor and Stahlurteil, his most preferred weapon, from a large case that he kept in his forge. He donned his blade and all of his armor but his helm, which he carried under his arm. He carefully closed and locked up the door and windows of his forge and headed into the city main. As he drew closer to the main plaza centered in the core of Minegarde, he heard forming around him the voices of commerce and the slaps of shoes against the pavement. The dusty stone-worked streets kicked up clouds of dirt as many travelers, hunters, and merchants made their ways to their various obligations. Veisu walked unimpeded by the presence of such peoples, although his presence did earn him glances and glares from most of those he strode past. The sun was at it's peak when he reached the plaza. Its heat beat down on those brave enough to loiter out of the shade, and Veisu was no less vulnerable to such warmth than any other. He quickly made his way to a dining area, where the heat of the sun was rivaled by the ovens and stoves that bellowed flames to keep up with the hunger of the many passer-by's who would grace such an establishment with empty stomachs and full wallets. Already seated at and around this restaurant were several hunters, felynes and shakalakas. Some seemed to be conversing, particularly a rather large man and a small shakalaka with a barbecue spit on its head, passing food to each other, and others kept to themselves. Looking around, Veisu noted that to his disliking, the only available seating was near the chatty-folk. He thought about turning away, but the growl within is abdomen insisted on siting and eating. With a soft sigh, Veisu rested his helm and arms on the counter, and sat upon the stool. He was quickly sought by a felyne wearing an oversized chef's hat. The cat purred and scratched its ear as it spoke. "Welcome! What can we make for you today?" "Serve me your finest Queen Shrimp, and a side of Heaven's Bread," he requested calmly. His emotional contrast to his waiter shook the felyne, almost toppling its hat. Veisu rested several coins onto the counter between them as the felyne nodded. It swiped the coins off the counter and into a pocket, and retreated off to prepare his meal. This dish was one he would ingest frequently, to him, the best offense was a good defense, and the exotic mix of flavors would also grant him the morale to weaken his foes when blended into a stew. He glanced over at the other hunters and their companions as he waited for his food to arrive.</s> <\|message\|>Alice Yagami People started to crowd around her previously empty table. This would have bugged her, if Shamba hadn't given her a small plate of food to hold her over until her meal finished. She took a handful and stuffed them in her mouth, chewing them vigorously. She swallowed them almost whole, her annoyance diminishing at the kind offer from the hulking hunter. She waited for the joining hunters to tell their tale of recent hunts before he began. "I just got back from a Gobul capture quest," she moaned, grabbing the Shock Trap she had came prepared with and setting it on the table. "That's up for grabs, by the way. Hell if I ever use them. Anyways, the darn thing bit me, so I had to kill it. Let me tell you, Gobul bites hurt." She turns back to the meat on the spit, inspecting it closely and giving it a few turns before turning back to the crowd. "This is Shamba. Name's Alice," she introduced. She pointed to the varying faces around the table. "What about you guys?" As she finished, she took a slice of the turkey she had been given and nibbled at it as she listened.</s> <\|message\|>Osmund Steele Osmund Steele Osmund nodded his large head at the newly relieved hunter, Alice, and the others speaking around him. He enjoyed the sharing of his food, it made for easier interactions and bonds to be formed. A person should not be as annoyed as she looked when they were off-duty, so anything to change that was an effort worth making. He finished his food and looked to the chef with a thumbs up and a nod of appreciation before turning back to those talking. "I am Osmund." A smaller voice made him turn his head to the side and look down. He looked very far down. What he saw was a smaller girl, quite a cute young woman. She had asked for a piggyback, and given her size it would be no difficult task to pick her up, even with his armor on. He smiled down at her before standing, and as he did he couldn't help but laugh. This little girl barely came up to his knees! Such a tiny person. With a pleased chuckle, he knelt down to expose his massive back and looked back at the small girl. "Hop on, child."</s> <\|message\|>Tybalt Cynthia Leoneart & Tybalt Both Cynthia and Tybalt wave to Alice's Shakalaka with a smile. This group seemed very friendly! Now if she can go hunting for larger, more dangerous monsters, with these people, she is sure that it will cure her boredom, as well as for the rest. As she chuckles after seeing the little child come in, a cold chill ran along her spine. She moves her eyes to the back of her, only to see that a dark looking Wyverian was glancing at the group. Looking at he alone was pretty startling, with his purplish-black Gore Magala armor and white-paled face. He did look scary. Cynthia ran her eyes back to her food and looks at Tybalt uneasily. "Do you know who that guy is behind us?" she asks her palico curiously. The palico takes a quick gander at the warrior and shakes his head. "Nya, I do not recognize him>" he answers, "Though he does look frightening to say the least." "Impressive for he to acquire Gore Magala armor, weather though money or forging." "Indeed, but lets pay attention to what we have at hand. Pay him no mind, meow." Cynthia takes one last quick glance at the Wyverian and then continues the conservation with the other hunters.</s> <\|message\|>Veisu "My name is Veisu..." He interjected into the group's conversation. "I'm a G-Ranked hunter, and a practiced smith. You lot look new here." His tone seemed a bit cold or possibly apathetic, but did not harbor any malice. As he said this, the felyine chef returned, carrying a platter. Upon this platter was a rather generous bowl of stew, featuring large clumps of shrimp wrapped in hollowed bread crusts. Veisu turned back to his meal, and began to dine in, but keeping his ear open to response.</s> <\|message\|>Alice Yagami "Ah, Smithy-Man! Veisu!" Alice stood as Veisu announced himself. She hadn't become aquainted with any of the weapon or armor smith's in Minegarde, but in Port Tanzia, the local Wyvernian Artist and her got along fairly well. To Alice, her weapons had a foreign zing to them, and she wanted to perhaps show it off. Also, she was prpbably due for an upgrade. Monster's were suddenly becoming more resistant to the blade. Why not see what she needed now? "I know your eating, but how does this look?" She unseated her Usurper's Boltstriker + and handed it to Shamba, who bounced over to Veisu and presented the weapon to him. "What would you need to upgrade that later?"</s>	<\|message\|>Veisu Veisu stopped eating and looked over his shoulder at the little creature holding its master's blade before him. It's expression was a mystery underneath a large barbecue encasing its entire head. With a sigh, he looked up to Alice. "... If you desire my crafts. You will have to visit my forge. It is closed until tomorrow morning, as I will be taking quests for the remainder of the day." Having almost completed his meal, it only took him half a minute to resolve the remainder of the food in his bowl. He set his spoon down on the table, and pulled his helm over his head. "A rare white Rathalos has been spotted in the peaks to the east. The Guild has commissioned me to drive it away." He said, his voice muffled by the enclosure of his armor.</s>
<\|description\|>Rachel Kay Age: 24 Appearance: Similar to this, 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. Powers/Equipment: Rachel acquires a modified Pokegear and a small case containing a set of cards bearing images of assorted Pokemon. By scanning one of the cards in the slot on the bottom of the Pokegear, she is able to change into one of the following forms: * Farfetch'd: Rachel gains the Wild Duck Pokemon's leek-based combat skills, as well as the razor sharp vegetable required to use them. While she isn't capable of flying, she can jump far higher than should be humanly possible and is capable of gliding short distances. In addition, due to the Keen Eye ability, her eyesight is enhanced in this form, enabling her to pick up on smaller details and spot things from long distances. Her outfit in this form is basically this, albeit with a leek instead of a sword. * Litwick: With the Candle Pokemon's power, Rachel becomes immune to fire-based attacks, which just cause the flame on her head to increase in size and power up her own fire attacks, in addition she is able to conjure blasts of fire of varying intensities, as well as beams, balls and rings of dark energy, she also gains the ability to shrink herself down, becoming harder to hit. In this form, Rachel wears a white dress, which hangs past her ankles, her hair hangs in front of her face, covering one eye and a purple flame burns on top of her head. * Sylveon: The Intertwining Pokemon's Pixilate ability infuses Rachel's attacks with, for lack of a better term, fairy magic, boosting the strength of those not already based around this power. In this form, Rachel gains the power to channel the power of the moon to create a destructive beam, conjure star-shaped projectiles that home in on their target, release a flash of light to blind opponents for a short time and focus all of her strength into a single physical strike, which causes insane amounts of damage if it connects, but leaves her completely exhausted afterwards, making it a last resort. This form's appearance changes are...a bit more severe than the others. * Cosplay Pikachu: Using the Mouse Pokemon's card, Rachel gains the power to manipulate electricity in a variety of ways, while becoming immune to it herself. In addition, depending on what "costume" she's wearing, she gains the ability to make her fists harder than steel, summon icicles to rain down, create an electrical current in the surrounding area to power up electrical attacks, drain energy by kissing or perform wrestling moves. In this form, Rachel gains Pikachu's ears and tail, as well as a costume similar to one of its different forms. The costume can be changed through the use of a card depicting all 5 variations of Cosplay Pikachu. * Heracross: While using the Single Horn Pokemon's card, Rachel gains improved fighting skills, as well as the ability to fire bullet or needle-like projectiles by punching at the air. This form gives Rachel a suit of armour similar to this. * Froakie: Rachel gains several ninja-esque abilities while using the Bubble Frog Pokemon's card, allowing her to substitute herself for a decoy or pull smoke bombs from her jacket's pockets. In addition, she can project blasts of water and has her swimming abilities enhanced. While using this form, Rachel's glasses turn into pince-nez and she wears a dark blue skirt and lighter blue jacket with a fluffy collar resembling Froakie's bubbles. 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 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, as well as cooking. Brief Backstory: There isn't really much to say. Rachel has had a boring, ordinary life for the most part. She coasted through school without any real effort, getting decent grades in the process. She spent some time in university, studying to become a teacher, but is currently taking a break to see more of the world. Other:</s> <\|message\|>Richard "Dick" Wrole Man. I'm getting kinda hungry. Of course there's no kitchen in this room, and the free food in the lobby is just popcorn and peanuts until dinner. That's how these tropical places get you. But... hot damn, room service is ACTUALLY reasonably priced for a change. What's that number again... Richard Wrole turned over, looking up from his menu to the hotel's phone, an old rotary number. He'd spent most of the morning-and lunch- at the beach, and hadn't gotten breakfast or lunch. This meant that his stomach was in open revolt, staging a violent protest. Of course, there WERE those crazy hoops you had to jump through to make internal calls. Let's see... room service is 0 for internal calls... 4 for room service... and 376 for the order itself... ...H! E! R! O! When this mystical sequence is put into an H-Dial, a strange function begins- the dialer can become strange and wondrous heroes from across the multiverse! Of course, whether it's Robby Reed, Chris King, Nelson Jent, or now Richard Wrole- they never know WHAT they'll get when they... DIAL H FOR HERO! With a pulse of red light, the letter "H" flew out from the phone dial, coating Richard... who vanished. In his place appeared a red-clad man with lightning decals over his years. Wow! That dial must have given me the mystic power to transform into super-heroes from across the cosmos... and apparently to exposit and think like a comic book character. This should be freaking me out, but... it seems normal while I'm using it. Right now, I've become The Flash, protector of Central City! The costumes are all really similar... but if I know my DCU, I'm Barry Allen, the Flash who made the jump to the competition at Marvel as Flash Forward before returning! With the use of the Speed Force, I can accomplish nearly anything! Now... how do I turn back and order a sandwich... In an instant, Richard found his hand making its way to the dial, dialing 6734. O! R! E! H! When this mystical sequence is put into an H-Dial, the powers are lost and the transformation is broken, allowing the user to return to their normal form! A responsible hero only uses their powers for good, and always gives them back when the battle is ov- Ooooorrrr I could use the powers for absurdly mundane non-evil shit.</s> <\|message\|>Anno Okay, a nice walk. A nice walk would be good. Yeah... Anno couldn't help it. She was, honestly, terribly indecisive when it came to nearly anything, and this was just another case of such a thing. She had been so overwhelmed by all the options she could take on the island that she had ended up going for something totally mundane that she could do anywhere. That is, a simple walk. At least her surroundings were nice... she had put on a nice, light skirt and a tank top, the tropical heat was too much for anything else. Well, that and plenty of sunscreen. Sunburn was terrible! And, well... as mundane as it was, maybe a walk would help her make a decision? The forested surroundings were really pretty beautiful, she had to admit... it was nothing like the more temperate climate back home. Sure, that was pretty too, but this was entirely different. And Anno could hear all kinds of different birds! It was really amazing! It was definitely the first time she'd really been in these kind of surroundings as well, even when she got to go to Australia she didn't really go into any real forests. So maybe, just maybe, she'd figure something... something... ... What was that? Anno came to a halt, staring down at the ground at the strange little object. A... green USB? ... Was that a toy Cyclone Memory? Why was there a random piece of Kamen Rider merchandise sitting out here? Kneeling down, she carefully picked it up in one hand and held it up to get a better look. That's what it looked like, at least... had someone dropped it or something?</s> <\|message\|>Rin Slowly, Rin's eyes began to open, and she winced as the splitting headache she had suddenly caught up to her. Pushing herself up from the ground, she tried to recall just what had happened to knock her flat on her back like that. And then she remembered... She was just going out for a walk, really. It seemed like a nice day (well, it was far too hot for her, but still), and she may as well try and enjoy this vacation whilst she was still on it, so... Yeah, that all added up. And then... Something hit her. Something fell from the sky and smacked her right on the forehead. That was the part that didn't make any sense. It was a clear day, and she was nowhere near any buildings or trees or really anything where something could fall from and hit her like that. But there it was, lying next to her, a metal briefcase with the clasps loose. Maybe she was just curious as to what could have hit her like that, but for some reason she found herself slowly opening the briefcase... To find something rather odd. "...Huh. Not every day you get whacked by flying Kamen Rider merchandise..." And, well, that was what seemed to be inside the briefcase. Specifically, it was the Double Driver, and... "Not a complete set, though. Where'd the Cyclone Memory get to?" Maybe it had fallen out and gotten lost when the briefcase fell from... Wherever it fell from. But pondering just what had happened to the green Gaia Memory would have to wait for now. Closing the case, Rin locked the clasps into place and, with her head still pounding, carried it off as she headed back towards town. "Dunno where this came from... But as much as I want to keep it, I probably should hand it in to the police or something." Thinking aloud, she quickened her pace as the pain in her head began to fade. "They'll probably find who this belongs to, and whoever they are I hope they're ready to apologise for whacking with on the head like that!"</s> <\|message\|>Nicholas Santos Nicholas chased the cars on foot. As he did, he could hear the two cars honking at each other. "Hey! Slow down if you want me to follow you!" Nicholas slowly began to lose breath. As soon as the cars began to slow, Nicholas was on his knees. "Oh God... my lungs!" Nicholas breathed in and out as his lungs felt like they were on fire. -- As Anno looked upon the Gaia Memory, she could hear honking and loud enka music playing. Two tiny, hot wheels-like cars approached her, one was a clown car, the other was a decked out truck with different sorts of Kanji littered throughout its body and sporting sunglasses. Up ahead was a man in his twenties wearing a red leather jacket. He had brown eyes and brownish red hair. He seemed out of breath. "Oh God... my lungs!" He said. -- Nicholas looked forward. He saw a bespectacled woman with brown hair and blue eyes. "Man... they just keep making the most advanced toys, right?" Nicholas chuckled as he looked at the cars, now motionless as they spoke to each other in muted honks. "Eventually it's gonna be like Small Soldiers..." He laughed.</s>	<\|message\|>Rachel Kay Before Rachel turned back towards the hotel, something caught her attention. A large, airborne train with flashing police lights, which she had somehow failed to notice diving towards the forest ahead of her until just now. Her curiosity piqued, Rachel moved ahead with the phone and case in hand. A short time later, she was surrounded by trees with no sign of the train in the immediate area. At that moment, the phone rang. Hesitantly, Rachel answered. After all, it could be whoever lost it in the first place, right? Or an SOS from that weird train? "Remember my super cool Rattata?" "I-" "My Rattata is different from regular Rattata. It's like my Rattata is in the top percentage of all Rattata." And then he hung up, leaving Rachel even more confused about what was going on than before.</s>
<\|description\|>Nicholas Santos Age: 21 Appearance: You may call me "Nicholas The Renegade"! Or Grim Reaper... doesn't matter to me. Powers/Equipment: Nicholas carries with him the Break Gunner, a device that allows him to transform into Mashin Chaser. As Mashin Chaser, Nicholas is able to fight, but due to damage induced by the Shadow Line, its Core Driviar is damaged, disabling the ability to slow down time. To counter this, however, Nicholas also obtained two Shift Cars and three Viral Cores. * Amazing Circus: Allows Nicholas to fire out props and fireworks from his Break Gunner. * Deko Traveler: Allows Nicholas to pull off a disorientating background change... though it only seems to disorientate himself. * Chaser Cobra Viral Core: Gives Nicholas the Tail Whipper, a whip weapon. * Chaser Spider Viral Core: Gives Nicholas the Fang Spidey, a gauntlet weapon with a pincer at the end. * Chaser Bat Viral Core: Gives Nicholas the Wing Sniper, a crossbow weapon that can allow Nicholas to fly if put on his back. Personality: Nicholas can get cocky. Especially when he has power in his hands. He is also easily excitable, though that excitability can make him incredibly obnoxious. In the face of grimness, he tends to crack jokes, though he's also prone to worrying if things are incredibly bad to a point where cracking jokes would only get people to give dirty looks at you. "There's a time and a place for jokes." he puts it. Brief Backstory: Nicholas was a college graduate ready to go out into the working world. He soon found work at a shop that specializes in automobile repairs. Though his boss was... Well... Bossy, he grew fond of the young man. Day by day, he taught him all there is to know about fixing cars. Other:</s> <\|message\|>Nicholas Santos It was a busy day down in the town. Cars kept getting busted and people need them repaired for the summer to come. Nicholas knew that there was only one hour left on the clock before he could take a break. However, after fixing a guy's hotrod, his boss entered the shop. "Hey, Niko, why don't you take the rest of the day off?" Nicholas smiled at the boss' Russian accent. Then again, he always found accents adorably funny. "I have something to show you..." He said. He left the shop as Nicholas followed him. When they got outside, Nicholas saw a black motorcycle with purple flames and a silver skull hood. "How do you like it?" He said to Nicholas. "W-wait, is this... is this for me?" Nicholas asked. "Well, I found it in the junk heap not too long ago... Like, ten minutes ago... in prime condition as well!" He said. "So... you're letting me having it?" Nicholas asked. "I'm too old to be a biker anymore. You, however, have a long way to go. Just... well, don't get into trouble. Go along, take it for a spin!" He said. "Alright, I won't get into trouble." Nicholas hopped onto the bike and rode off. His boss smiled. --- Nicholas drove alongside the street, keeping with the traffic regulations. That's when he saw a train diving into the forest. Nicholas got confused and drove into a path leading to the forest. He parked the motorcycle and headed onto the forest path. As he walked, he became more and more weary of his surroundings. Then he tripped on something. He skinned his knee and got up. "Gah!" He screamed. He looked over and saw what he tripped over. He picked it up. "The hell? A bop-it?" Nicholas commented on the Break Gunner's appearance. That's when a loud enka song played and made Nicholas jump. "HOLY SHIT!" He jumped over on the ground. He turned around and saw a small car moving on its own while making vrooming sounds and enka noises. "What the hell are you?" He said at he car's catlike face. It drove to him and repeatedly rammed him at his shoe. "H-hey! Quit it!" That's when he heard clown noises. He looked up and saw a car with a clown's face jump down at him, making honking noises and clown noises. "AAAAAAAAAAH!" He screamed. The clown car pinned him down as the enka car spewed out chains, tying him up. "W-what do you guys want from me!? Are you aliens!?" Nicholas said. The enka car rammed into his hand that held the 'bop-it', with each hit tickling Nicholas' hand. That's when the clown car drove in and honked at the car. The two cars honked at each other for a while. "H-hey! Are you guys, like, guardians of the forest or whatever? Because if you let me go, I'll definitely give a hoot and not pollute! I promise!" Nicholas said. The two cars turned to him. The enka car unchained him and he got up. "What the hell are you two?" Nicholas asked. The cars drove off. "H-hey! Wait up!" Nicholas followed the cars. At which point, Nicholas threw all caution to the wind and pretty much thought "what would the opening kill girl do in a moment like this?"</s> <\|message\|>Richard "Dick" Wrole Man. I'm getting kinda hungry. Of course there's no kitchen in this room, and the free food in the lobby is just popcorn and peanuts until dinner. That's how these tropical places get you. But... hot damn, room service is ACTUALLY reasonably priced for a change. What's that number again... Richard Wrole turned over, looking up from his menu to the hotel's phone, an old rotary number. He'd spent most of the morning-and lunch- at the beach, and hadn't gotten breakfast or lunch. This meant that his stomach was in open revolt, staging a violent protest. Of course, there WERE those crazy hoops you had to jump through to make internal calls. Let's see... room service is 0 for internal calls... 4 for room service... and 376 for the order itself... ...H! E! R! O! When this mystical sequence is put into an H-Dial, a strange function begins- the dialer can become strange and wondrous heroes from across the multiverse! Of course, whether it's Robby Reed, Chris King, Nelson Jent, or now Richard Wrole- they never know WHAT they'll get when they... DIAL H FOR HERO! With a pulse of red light, the letter "H" flew out from the phone dial, coating Richard... who vanished. In his place appeared a red-clad man with lightning decals over his years. Wow! That dial must have given me the mystic power to transform into super-heroes from across the cosmos... and apparently to exposit and think like a comic book character. This should be freaking me out, but... it seems normal while I'm using it. Right now, I've become The Flash, protector of Central City! The costumes are all really similar... but if I know my DCU, I'm Barry Allen, the Flash who made the jump to the competition at Marvel as Flash Forward before returning! With the use of the Speed Force, I can accomplish nearly anything! Now... how do I turn back and order a sandwich... In an instant, Richard found his hand making its way to the dial, dialing 6734. O! R! E! H! When this mystical sequence is put into an H-Dial, the powers are lost and the transformation is broken, allowing the user to return to their normal form! A responsible hero only uses their powers for good, and always gives them back when the battle is ov- Ooooorrrr I could use the powers for absurdly mundane non-evil shit.</s> <\|message\|>Anno Okay, a nice walk. A nice walk would be good. Yeah... Anno couldn't help it. She was, honestly, terribly indecisive when it came to nearly anything, and this was just another case of such a thing. She had been so overwhelmed by all the options she could take on the island that she had ended up going for something totally mundane that she could do anywhere. That is, a simple walk. At least her surroundings were nice... she had put on a nice, light skirt and a tank top, the tropical heat was too much for anything else. Well, that and plenty of sunscreen. Sunburn was terrible! And, well... as mundane as it was, maybe a walk would help her make a decision? The forested surroundings were really pretty beautiful, she had to admit... it was nothing like the more temperate climate back home. Sure, that was pretty too, but this was entirely different. And Anno could hear all kinds of different birds! It was really amazing! It was definitely the first time she'd really been in these kind of surroundings as well, even when she got to go to Australia she didn't really go into any real forests. So maybe, just maybe, she'd figure something... something... ... What was that? Anno came to a halt, staring down at the ground at the strange little object. A... green USB? ... Was that a toy Cyclone Memory? Why was there a random piece of Kamen Rider merchandise sitting out here? Kneeling down, she carefully picked it up in one hand and held it up to get a better look. That's what it looked like, at least... had someone dropped it or something?</s> <\|message\|>Rin Slowly, Rin's eyes began to open, and she winced as the splitting headache she had suddenly caught up to her. Pushing herself up from the ground, she tried to recall just what had happened to knock her flat on her back like that. And then she remembered... She was just going out for a walk, really. It seemed like a nice day (well, it was far too hot for her, but still), and she may as well try and enjoy this vacation whilst she was still on it, so... Yeah, that all added up. And then... Something hit her. Something fell from the sky and smacked her right on the forehead. That was the part that didn't make any sense. It was a clear day, and she was nowhere near any buildings or trees or really anything where something could fall from and hit her like that. But there it was, lying next to her, a metal briefcase with the clasps loose. Maybe she was just curious as to what could have hit her like that, but for some reason she found herself slowly opening the briefcase... To find something rather odd. "...Huh. Not every day you get whacked by flying Kamen Rider merchandise..." And, well, that was what seemed to be inside the briefcase. Specifically, it was the Double Driver, and... "Not a complete set, though. Where'd the Cyclone Memory get to?" Maybe it had fallen out and gotten lost when the briefcase fell from... Wherever it fell from. But pondering just what had happened to the green Gaia Memory would have to wait for now. Closing the case, Rin locked the clasps into place and, with her head still pounding, carried it off as she headed back towards town. "Dunno where this came from... But as much as I want to keep it, I probably should hand it in to the police or something." Thinking aloud, she quickened her pace as the pain in her head began to fade. "They'll probably find who this belongs to, and whoever they are I hope they're ready to apologise for whacking with on the head like that!"</s>	<\|message\|>Nicholas Santos Nicholas chased the cars on foot. As he did, he could hear the two cars honking at each other. "Hey! Slow down if you want me to follow you!" Nicholas slowly began to lose breath. As soon as the cars began to slow, Nicholas was on his knees. "Oh God... my lungs!" Nicholas breathed in and out as his lungs felt like they were on fire. -- As Anno looked upon the Gaia Memory, she could hear honking and loud enka music playing. Two tiny, hot wheels-like cars approached her, one was a clown car, the other was a decked out truck with different sorts of Kanji littered throughout its body and sporting sunglasses. Up ahead was a man in his twenties wearing a red leather jacket. He had brown eyes and brownish red hair. He seemed out of breath. "Oh God... my lungs!" He said. -- Nicholas looked forward. He saw a bespectacled woman with brown hair and blue eyes. "Man... they just keep making the most advanced toys, right?" Nicholas chuckled as he looked at the cars, now motionless as they spoke to each other in muted honks. "Eventually it's gonna be like Small Soldiers..." He laughed.</s>
<\|description\|>Richard "Dick" Wrole Age: 25 Appearance: A blonde man with greenish, tired eyes and a red sweatshirt, he usually wears jeans. He's now got a rotary dial from a phone booth in his pocket. Powers/Equipment: The H-Dial, a mystical device with the ability to transform its user into a range of strange and incredible heroes. These heroes tend toward the Cape aesthetic, but some of them can be downright strange- IE, Cock-A-Hoop, Boy Chimney, and Daffodil Host. The downside to the dial: Dick doesn't get to choose WHICH hero he turns into, and some of the powers are eccentric. Case in point, Flamewar, who can set things on fire by insulting them, or Pelican Army, who is a hivemind composed of pelicans and a telepathic redcoat soldier. Personality: Had someone said "Take this magic rotary dial and go beat up evil things," he would have jumped at the call. Granted, he'd probably ask what the hell the person was on, talking about magic rotary dials and interdimensional superheroes, but it's a fair question when dealing with wackos. He's a man of moderate intelligence and has a patchwork knowledge of many subjects, mostly involving biology, computers, and physics, although nothing too specialized. He's torn between how awesome being a superhero is and how weird his various forms are. Brief Backstory: An American with a love of all things superhero, he's visiting the island to take a break from college. His family's a little rough right now, but hopefully a vacation's just what he needs. Besides, ruins are awesome. And volcanoes, dormant or otherwise, are EXTREMELY awesome. Other: PELICAN ARMY!</s> <\|message\|>Rachel Kay A pair of trains raced through the sky above a feudal Japanese city, seemingly conjuring tracks out of thin air as they went. The vehicles went unnoticed by the general populous, who either lacked the power to see them or just figured they were better off ignoring them. In the front was a black train with a pair of drill-like protrusions at the front of its tracks, one of the Shadow Line's Darkliners, which travelled from world to world trying to spread their influence. In hot pursuit was a train with some police car-like traits, the Rainbow Line's Police Express, one of the vehicles tasked with fighting back against the Shadows. "To think that a mere conductor managed to ruin my plan...That world would've been plunged into darkness!" The leader of the Shadow Line's expedition snarled. At that moment, a loud bang sounded out. The pursuing Police Express had folded out what looked to be an oversized blue handgun, though its aim was somewhat hampered by the speeds they were moving at. "Tch...You!" the weasel-like creature shouted, pointing to one of the black-clad minions crewing the train. "Get us back to HQ, now!" "Crow!" The train robber-esque combatman responded, beginning to work on a strange computer. Another shot rang out, this time however, it connected. While the blast failed to cause any major damage, it shook the Darkliner and caused the Crow at the console to fall forwards. Almost instantly, the track they were travelling on split and the train seemingly vanished into thin air, with the Police Express following shortly after. --- The Crow had, of course, failed to return the Darkliner to HQ. Instead, it seemed to have stranded them on some backwater planet and busted the console. There'd be time to punish it for the screw-up later though, for now, they had a chance to prepare for their pursuers. The police train came into view, as Kamaitachi had expected. At his command, the Darkliner opened fire with its own weapons, a barrage of cannon fire hitting the emerging Police Express. The other train began a rapid descent, somewhere between an emergency landing and...well, crashing. Whether it was taking cover, or just a convenient crashing point, the train ended up in a forested area of the island the two vehicles had emerged over. As it fell, several items fell through a small gash in the side of rear carriage, landing across the island below. --- Rachel stretched, stepping out of the hotel she'd been staying at and into the tropical sunlight. Sure, she'd slept in. Sure, it was already close to noon. But what was the point in rushing on a holiday? "Let's see...beach...or hiking track..." The brunette mumbled to herself, glancing around. Decision making had never really been her strongest suit, and this was no exception. As she turned towards a path heading into the forest, something caught her eye, a phone and some weird metal case. They seemed somewhat...familiar. Shrugging, she stepped forwards and picked the items up. Maybe whoever lost these had some kind of ID in the case? With a small click, it opened, revealing what seemed to be Pokemon cards. Or rather, cards with pictures of Pokemon on them. Weird...In any case, these probably needed to go to the hotel's lost and found or something.</s> <\|message\|>Nicholas Santos It was a busy day down in the town. Cars kept getting busted and people need them repaired for the summer to come. Nicholas knew that there was only one hour left on the clock before he could take a break. However, after fixing a guy's hotrod, his boss entered the shop. "Hey, Niko, why don't you take the rest of the day off?" Nicholas smiled at the boss' Russian accent. Then again, he always found accents adorably funny. "I have something to show you..." He said. He left the shop as Nicholas followed him. When they got outside, Nicholas saw a black motorcycle with purple flames and a silver skull hood. "How do you like it?" He said to Nicholas. "W-wait, is this... is this for me?" Nicholas asked. "Well, I found it in the junk heap not too long ago... Like, ten minutes ago... in prime condition as well!" He said. "So... you're letting me having it?" Nicholas asked. "I'm too old to be a biker anymore. You, however, have a long way to go. Just... well, don't get into trouble. Go along, take it for a spin!" He said. "Alright, I won't get into trouble." Nicholas hopped onto the bike and rode off. His boss smiled. --- Nicholas drove alongside the street, keeping with the traffic regulations. That's when he saw a train diving into the forest. Nicholas got confused and drove into a path leading to the forest. He parked the motorcycle and headed onto the forest path. As he walked, he became more and more weary of his surroundings. Then he tripped on something. He skinned his knee and got up. "Gah!" He screamed. He looked over and saw what he tripped over. He picked it up. "The hell? A bop-it?" Nicholas commented on the Break Gunner's appearance. That's when a loud enka song played and made Nicholas jump. "HOLY SHIT!" He jumped over on the ground. He turned around and saw a small car moving on its own while making vrooming sounds and enka noises. "What the hell are you?" He said at he car's catlike face. It drove to him and repeatedly rammed him at his shoe. "H-hey! Quit it!" That's when he heard clown noises. He looked up and saw a car with a clown's face jump down at him, making honking noises and clown noises. "AAAAAAAAAAH!" He screamed. The clown car pinned him down as the enka car spewed out chains, tying him up. "W-what do you guys want from me!? Are you aliens!?" Nicholas said. The enka car rammed into his hand that held the 'bop-it', with each hit tickling Nicholas' hand. That's when the clown car drove in and honked at the car. The two cars honked at each other for a while. "H-hey! Are you guys, like, guardians of the forest or whatever? Because if you let me go, I'll definitely give a hoot and not pollute! I promise!" Nicholas said. The two cars turned to him. The enka car unchained him and he got up. "What the hell are you two?" Nicholas asked. The cars drove off. "H-hey! Wait up!" Nicholas followed the cars. At which point, Nicholas threw all caution to the wind and pretty much thought "what would the opening kill girl do in a moment like this?"</s>	<\|message\|>Richard "Dick" Wrole Man. I'm getting kinda hungry. Of course there's no kitchen in this room, and the free food in the lobby is just popcorn and peanuts until dinner. That's how these tropical places get you. But... hot damn, room service is ACTUALLY reasonably priced for a change. What's that number again... Richard Wrole turned over, looking up from his menu to the hotel's phone, an old rotary number. He'd spent most of the morning-and lunch- at the beach, and hadn't gotten breakfast or lunch. This meant that his stomach was in open revolt, staging a violent protest. Of course, there WERE those crazy hoops you had to jump through to make internal calls. Let's see... room service is 0 for internal calls... 4 for room service... and 376 for the order itself... ...H! E! R! O! When this mystical sequence is put into an H-Dial, a strange function begins- the dialer can become strange and wondrous heroes from across the multiverse! Of course, whether it's Robby Reed, Chris King, Nelson Jent, or now Richard Wrole- they never know WHAT they'll get when they... DIAL H FOR HERO! With a pulse of red light, the letter "H" flew out from the phone dial, coating Richard... who vanished. In his place appeared a red-clad man with lightning decals over his years. Wow! That dial must have given me the mystic power to transform into super-heroes from across the cosmos... and apparently to exposit and think like a comic book character. This should be freaking me out, but... it seems normal while I'm using it. Right now, I've become The Flash, protector of Central City! The costumes are all really similar... but if I know my DCU, I'm Barry Allen, the Flash who made the jump to the competition at Marvel as Flash Forward before returning! With the use of the Speed Force, I can accomplish nearly anything! Now... how do I turn back and order a sandwich... In an instant, Richard found his hand making its way to the dial, dialing 6734. O! R! E! H! When this mystical sequence is put into an H-Dial, the powers are lost and the transformation is broken, allowing the user to return to their normal form! A responsible hero only uses their powers for good, and always gives them back when the battle is ov- Ooooorrrr I could use the powers for absurdly mundane non-evil shit.</s>
<\|description\|>Anno Age: 21 Appearance: Usually in skirts though and that tiny jacket is really nice. But, um, kind of pale skin, blue eyes, brown hair, tends to wear reds and blues. Powers/Equipment: Anno has become capable of accessing the Gaia Library, and of using the Cyclone Memory to become the right half of Kamen Rider Double. Naturally this means she has the other Double Driver and the Cyclone Memory. 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. She is rather easy to embarrass and make feel rather awkward, however. Brief Backstory: Anno's life is mostly uninteresting, she's mostly just a normal girl. Other: The other half Rin was talking about so yeah. ^^;</s> <\|message\|>Rachel Kay A pair of trains raced through the sky above a feudal Japanese city, seemingly conjuring tracks out of thin air as they went. The vehicles went unnoticed by the general populous, who either lacked the power to see them or just figured they were better off ignoring them. In the front was a black train with a pair of drill-like protrusions at the front of its tracks, one of the Shadow Line's Darkliners, which travelled from world to world trying to spread their influence. In hot pursuit was a train with some police car-like traits, the Rainbow Line's Police Express, one of the vehicles tasked with fighting back against the Shadows. "To think that a mere conductor managed to ruin my plan...That world would've been plunged into darkness!" The leader of the Shadow Line's expedition snarled. At that moment, a loud bang sounded out. The pursuing Police Express had folded out what looked to be an oversized blue handgun, though its aim was somewhat hampered by the speeds they were moving at. "Tch...You!" the weasel-like creature shouted, pointing to one of the black-clad minions crewing the train. "Get us back to HQ, now!" "Crow!" The train robber-esque combatman responded, beginning to work on a strange computer. Another shot rang out, this time however, it connected. While the blast failed to cause any major damage, it shook the Darkliner and caused the Crow at the console to fall forwards. Almost instantly, the track they were travelling on split and the train seemingly vanished into thin air, with the Police Express following shortly after. --- The Crow had, of course, failed to return the Darkliner to HQ. Instead, it seemed to have stranded them on some backwater planet and busted the console. There'd be time to punish it for the screw-up later though, for now, they had a chance to prepare for their pursuers. The police train came into view, as Kamaitachi had expected. At his command, the Darkliner opened fire with its own weapons, a barrage of cannon fire hitting the emerging Police Express. The other train began a rapid descent, somewhere between an emergency landing and...well, crashing. Whether it was taking cover, or just a convenient crashing point, the train ended up in a forested area of the island the two vehicles had emerged over. As it fell, several items fell through a small gash in the side of rear carriage, landing across the island below. --- Rachel stretched, stepping out of the hotel she'd been staying at and into the tropical sunlight. Sure, she'd slept in. Sure, it was already close to noon. But what was the point in rushing on a holiday? "Let's see...beach...or hiking track..." The brunette mumbled to herself, glancing around. Decision making had never really been her strongest suit, and this was no exception. As she turned towards a path heading into the forest, something caught her eye, a phone and some weird metal case. They seemed somewhat...familiar. Shrugging, she stepped forwards and picked the items up. Maybe whoever lost these had some kind of ID in the case? With a small click, it opened, revealing what seemed to be Pokemon cards. Or rather, cards with pictures of Pokemon on them. Weird...In any case, these probably needed to go to the hotel's lost and found or something.</s> <\|message\|>Nicholas Santos It was a busy day down in the town. Cars kept getting busted and people need them repaired for the summer to come. Nicholas knew that there was only one hour left on the clock before he could take a break. However, after fixing a guy's hotrod, his boss entered the shop. "Hey, Niko, why don't you take the rest of the day off?" Nicholas smiled at the boss' Russian accent. Then again, he always found accents adorably funny. "I have something to show you..." He said. He left the shop as Nicholas followed him. When they got outside, Nicholas saw a black motorcycle with purple flames and a silver skull hood. "How do you like it?" He said to Nicholas. "W-wait, is this... is this for me?" Nicholas asked. "Well, I found it in the junk heap not too long ago... Like, ten minutes ago... in prime condition as well!" He said. "So... you're letting me having it?" Nicholas asked. "I'm too old to be a biker anymore. You, however, have a long way to go. Just... well, don't get into trouble. Go along, take it for a spin!" He said. "Alright, I won't get into trouble." Nicholas hopped onto the bike and rode off. His boss smiled. --- Nicholas drove alongside the street, keeping with the traffic regulations. That's when he saw a train diving into the forest. Nicholas got confused and drove into a path leading to the forest. He parked the motorcycle and headed onto the forest path. As he walked, he became more and more weary of his surroundings. Then he tripped on something. He skinned his knee and got up. "Gah!" He screamed. He looked over and saw what he tripped over. He picked it up. "The hell? A bop-it?" Nicholas commented on the Break Gunner's appearance. That's when a loud enka song played and made Nicholas jump. "HOLY SHIT!" He jumped over on the ground. He turned around and saw a small car moving on its own while making vrooming sounds and enka noises. "What the hell are you?" He said at he car's catlike face. It drove to him and repeatedly rammed him at his shoe. "H-hey! Quit it!" That's when he heard clown noises. He looked up and saw a car with a clown's face jump down at him, making honking noises and clown noises. "AAAAAAAAAAH!" He screamed. The clown car pinned him down as the enka car spewed out chains, tying him up. "W-what do you guys want from me!? Are you aliens!?" Nicholas said. The enka car rammed into his hand that held the 'bop-it', with each hit tickling Nicholas' hand. That's when the clown car drove in and honked at the car. The two cars honked at each other for a while. "H-hey! Are you guys, like, guardians of the forest or whatever? Because if you let me go, I'll definitely give a hoot and not pollute! I promise!" Nicholas said. The two cars turned to him. The enka car unchained him and he got up. "What the hell are you two?" Nicholas asked. The cars drove off. "H-hey! Wait up!" Nicholas followed the cars. At which point, Nicholas threw all caution to the wind and pretty much thought "what would the opening kill girl do in a moment like this?"</s> <\|message\|>Richard "Dick" Wrole Man. I'm getting kinda hungry. Of course there's no kitchen in this room, and the free food in the lobby is just popcorn and peanuts until dinner. That's how these tropical places get you. But... hot damn, room service is ACTUALLY reasonably priced for a change. What's that number again... Richard Wrole turned over, looking up from his menu to the hotel's phone, an old rotary number. He'd spent most of the morning-and lunch- at the beach, and hadn't gotten breakfast or lunch. This meant that his stomach was in open revolt, staging a violent protest. Of course, there WERE those crazy hoops you had to jump through to make internal calls. Let's see... room service is 0 for internal calls... 4 for room service... and 376 for the order itself... ...H! E! R! O! When this mystical sequence is put into an H-Dial, a strange function begins- the dialer can become strange and wondrous heroes from across the multiverse! Of course, whether it's Robby Reed, Chris King, Nelson Jent, or now Richard Wrole- they never know WHAT they'll get when they... DIAL H FOR HERO! With a pulse of red light, the letter "H" flew out from the phone dial, coating Richard... who vanished. In his place appeared a red-clad man with lightning decals over his years. Wow! That dial must have given me the mystic power to transform into super-heroes from across the cosmos... and apparently to exposit and think like a comic book character. This should be freaking me out, but... it seems normal while I'm using it. Right now, I've become The Flash, protector of Central City! The costumes are all really similar... but if I know my DCU, I'm Barry Allen, the Flash who made the jump to the competition at Marvel as Flash Forward before returning! With the use of the Speed Force, I can accomplish nearly anything! Now... how do I turn back and order a sandwich... In an instant, Richard found his hand making its way to the dial, dialing 6734. O! R! E! H! When this mystical sequence is put into an H-Dial, the powers are lost and the transformation is broken, allowing the user to return to their normal form! A responsible hero only uses their powers for good, and always gives them back when the battle is ov- Ooooorrrr I could use the powers for absurdly mundane non-evil shit.</s>	<\|message\|>Anno Okay, a nice walk. A nice walk would be good. Yeah... Anno couldn't help it. She was, honestly, terribly indecisive when it came to nearly anything, and this was just another case of such a thing. She had been so overwhelmed by all the options she could take on the island that she had ended up going for something totally mundane that she could do anywhere. That is, a simple walk. At least her surroundings were nice... she had put on a nice, light skirt and a tank top, the tropical heat was too much for anything else. Well, that and plenty of sunscreen. Sunburn was terrible! And, well... as mundane as it was, maybe a walk would help her make a decision? The forested surroundings were really pretty beautiful, she had to admit... it was nothing like the more temperate climate back home. Sure, that was pretty too, but this was entirely different. And Anno could hear all kinds of different birds! It was really amazing! It was definitely the first time she'd really been in these kind of surroundings as well, even when she got to go to Australia she didn't really go into any real forests. So maybe, just maybe, she'd figure something... something... ... What was that? Anno came to a halt, staring down at the ground at the strange little object. A... green USB? ... Was that a toy Cyclone Memory? Why was there a random piece of Kamen Rider merchandise sitting out here? Kneeling down, she carefully picked it up in one hand and held it up to get a better look. That's what it looked like, at least... had someone dropped it or something?</s>
<\|description\|>Rin * Age: Somewhere in her 20's. * Appearance: Whee. * Powers/Equipment: A mysterious briefcase containing a strange belt-buckle and six USB drives. It's the Double Driver and a set of Gaia Memories that can be used to transform into (a slightly modified) Kamen Rider Double! But without a partner, it's kind of useless. Hmmm. * 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. * Brief Backstory: 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 have something like that suddenly thrust on her after all, right? * Other: The left half of Double; Anno forms the right half.</s> <\|message\|>Rachel Kay A pair of trains raced through the sky above a feudal Japanese city, seemingly conjuring tracks out of thin air as they went. The vehicles went unnoticed by the general populous, who either lacked the power to see them or just figured they were better off ignoring them. In the front was a black train with a pair of drill-like protrusions at the front of its tracks, one of the Shadow Line's Darkliners, which travelled from world to world trying to spread their influence. In hot pursuit was a train with some police car-like traits, the Rainbow Line's Police Express, one of the vehicles tasked with fighting back against the Shadows. "To think that a mere conductor managed to ruin my plan...That world would've been plunged into darkness!" The leader of the Shadow Line's expedition snarled. At that moment, a loud bang sounded out. The pursuing Police Express had folded out what looked to be an oversized blue handgun, though its aim was somewhat hampered by the speeds they were moving at. "Tch...You!" the weasel-like creature shouted, pointing to one of the black-clad minions crewing the train. "Get us back to HQ, now!" "Crow!" The train robber-esque combatman responded, beginning to work on a strange computer. Another shot rang out, this time however, it connected. While the blast failed to cause any major damage, it shook the Darkliner and caused the Crow at the console to fall forwards. Almost instantly, the track they were travelling on split and the train seemingly vanished into thin air, with the Police Express following shortly after. --- The Crow had, of course, failed to return the Darkliner to HQ. Instead, it seemed to have stranded them on some backwater planet and busted the console. There'd be time to punish it for the screw-up later though, for now, they had a chance to prepare for their pursuers. The police train came into view, as Kamaitachi had expected. At his command, the Darkliner opened fire with its own weapons, a barrage of cannon fire hitting the emerging Police Express. The other train began a rapid descent, somewhere between an emergency landing and...well, crashing. Whether it was taking cover, or just a convenient crashing point, the train ended up in a forested area of the island the two vehicles had emerged over. As it fell, several items fell through a small gash in the side of rear carriage, landing across the island below. --- Rachel stretched, stepping out of the hotel she'd been staying at and into the tropical sunlight. Sure, she'd slept in. Sure, it was already close to noon. But what was the point in rushing on a holiday? "Let's see...beach...or hiking track..." The brunette mumbled to herself, glancing around. Decision making had never really been her strongest suit, and this was no exception. As she turned towards a path heading into the forest, something caught her eye, a phone and some weird metal case. They seemed somewhat...familiar. Shrugging, she stepped forwards and picked the items up. Maybe whoever lost these had some kind of ID in the case? With a small click, it opened, revealing what seemed to be Pokemon cards. Or rather, cards with pictures of Pokemon on them. Weird...In any case, these probably needed to go to the hotel's lost and found or something.</s> <\|message\|>Nicholas Santos It was a busy day down in the town. Cars kept getting busted and people need them repaired for the summer to come. Nicholas knew that there was only one hour left on the clock before he could take a break. However, after fixing a guy's hotrod, his boss entered the shop. "Hey, Niko, why don't you take the rest of the day off?" Nicholas smiled at the boss' Russian accent. Then again, he always found accents adorably funny. "I have something to show you..." He said. He left the shop as Nicholas followed him. When they got outside, Nicholas saw a black motorcycle with purple flames and a silver skull hood. "How do you like it?" He said to Nicholas. "W-wait, is this... is this for me?" Nicholas asked. "Well, I found it in the junk heap not too long ago... Like, ten minutes ago... in prime condition as well!" He said. "So... you're letting me having it?" Nicholas asked. "I'm too old to be a biker anymore. You, however, have a long way to go. Just... well, don't get into trouble. Go along, take it for a spin!" He said. "Alright, I won't get into trouble." Nicholas hopped onto the bike and rode off. His boss smiled. --- Nicholas drove alongside the street, keeping with the traffic regulations. That's when he saw a train diving into the forest. Nicholas got confused and drove into a path leading to the forest. He parked the motorcycle and headed onto the forest path. As he walked, he became more and more weary of his surroundings. Then he tripped on something. He skinned his knee and got up. "Gah!" He screamed. He looked over and saw what he tripped over. He picked it up. "The hell? A bop-it?" Nicholas commented on the Break Gunner's appearance. That's when a loud enka song played and made Nicholas jump. "HOLY SHIT!" He jumped over on the ground. He turned around and saw a small car moving on its own while making vrooming sounds and enka noises. "What the hell are you?" He said at he car's catlike face. It drove to him and repeatedly rammed him at his shoe. "H-hey! Quit it!" That's when he heard clown noises. He looked up and saw a car with a clown's face jump down at him, making honking noises and clown noises. "AAAAAAAAAAH!" He screamed. The clown car pinned him down as the enka car spewed out chains, tying him up. "W-what do you guys want from me!? Are you aliens!?" Nicholas said. The enka car rammed into his hand that held the 'bop-it', with each hit tickling Nicholas' hand. That's when the clown car drove in and honked at the car. The two cars honked at each other for a while. "H-hey! Are you guys, like, guardians of the forest or whatever? Because if you let me go, I'll definitely give a hoot and not pollute! I promise!" Nicholas said. The two cars turned to him. The enka car unchained him and he got up. "What the hell are you two?" Nicholas asked. The cars drove off. "H-hey! Wait up!" Nicholas followed the cars. At which point, Nicholas threw all caution to the wind and pretty much thought "what would the opening kill girl do in a moment like this?"</s> <\|message\|>Richard "Dick" Wrole Man. I'm getting kinda hungry. Of course there's no kitchen in this room, and the free food in the lobby is just popcorn and peanuts until dinner. That's how these tropical places get you. But... hot damn, room service is ACTUALLY reasonably priced for a change. What's that number again... Richard Wrole turned over, looking up from his menu to the hotel's phone, an old rotary number. He'd spent most of the morning-and lunch- at the beach, and hadn't gotten breakfast or lunch. This meant that his stomach was in open revolt, staging a violent protest. Of course, there WERE those crazy hoops you had to jump through to make internal calls. Let's see... room service is 0 for internal calls... 4 for room service... and 376 for the order itself... ...H! E! R! O! When this mystical sequence is put into an H-Dial, a strange function begins- the dialer can become strange and wondrous heroes from across the multiverse! Of course, whether it's Robby Reed, Chris King, Nelson Jent, or now Richard Wrole- they never know WHAT they'll get when they... DIAL H FOR HERO! With a pulse of red light, the letter "H" flew out from the phone dial, coating Richard... who vanished. In his place appeared a red-clad man with lightning decals over his years. Wow! That dial must have given me the mystic power to transform into super-heroes from across the cosmos... and apparently to exposit and think like a comic book character. This should be freaking me out, but... it seems normal while I'm using it. Right now, I've become The Flash, protector of Central City! The costumes are all really similar... but if I know my DCU, I'm Barry Allen, the Flash who made the jump to the competition at Marvel as Flash Forward before returning! With the use of the Speed Force, I can accomplish nearly anything! Now... how do I turn back and order a sandwich... In an instant, Richard found his hand making its way to the dial, dialing 6734. O! R! E! H! When this mystical sequence is put into an H-Dial, the powers are lost and the transformation is broken, allowing the user to return to their normal form! A responsible hero only uses their powers for good, and always gives them back when the battle is ov- Ooooorrrr I could use the powers for absurdly mundane non-evil shit.</s> <\|message\|>Anno Okay, a nice walk. A nice walk would be good. Yeah... Anno couldn't help it. She was, honestly, terribly indecisive when it came to nearly anything, and this was just another case of such a thing. She had been so overwhelmed by all the options she could take on the island that she had ended up going for something totally mundane that she could do anywhere. That is, a simple walk. At least her surroundings were nice... she had put on a nice, light skirt and a tank top, the tropical heat was too much for anything else. Well, that and plenty of sunscreen. Sunburn was terrible! And, well... as mundane as it was, maybe a walk would help her make a decision? The forested surroundings were really pretty beautiful, she had to admit... it was nothing like the more temperate climate back home. Sure, that was pretty too, but this was entirely different. And Anno could hear all kinds of different birds! It was really amazing! It was definitely the first time she'd really been in these kind of surroundings as well, even when she got to go to Australia she didn't really go into any real forests. So maybe, just maybe, she'd figure something... something... ... What was that? Anno came to a halt, staring down at the ground at the strange little object. A... green USB? ... Was that a toy Cyclone Memory? Why was there a random piece of Kamen Rider merchandise sitting out here? Kneeling down, she carefully picked it up in one hand and held it up to get a better look. That's what it looked like, at least... had someone dropped it or something?</s>	<\|message\|>Rin Slowly, Rin's eyes began to open, and she winced as the splitting headache she had suddenly caught up to her. Pushing herself up from the ground, she tried to recall just what had happened to knock her flat on her back like that. And then she remembered... She was just going out for a walk, really. It seemed like a nice day (well, it was far too hot for her, but still), and she may as well try and enjoy this vacation whilst she was still on it, so... Yeah, that all added up. And then... Something hit her. Something fell from the sky and smacked her right on the forehead. That was the part that didn't make any sense. It was a clear day, and she was nowhere near any buildings or trees or really anything where something could fall from and hit her like that. But there it was, lying next to her, a metal briefcase with the clasps loose. Maybe she was just curious as to what could have hit her like that, but for some reason she found herself slowly opening the briefcase... To find something rather odd. "...Huh. Not every day you get whacked by flying Kamen Rider merchandise..." And, well, that was what seemed to be inside the briefcase. Specifically, it was the Double Driver, and... "Not a complete set, though. Where'd the Cyclone Memory get to?" Maybe it had fallen out and gotten lost when the briefcase fell from... Wherever it fell from. But pondering just what had happened to the green Gaia Memory would have to wait for now. Closing the case, Rin locked the clasps into place and, with her head still pounding, carried it off as she headed back towards town. "Dunno where this came from... But as much as I want to keep it, I probably should hand it in to the police or something." Thinking aloud, she quickened her pace as the pain in her head began to fade. "They'll probably find who this belongs to, and whoever they are I hope they're ready to apologise for whacking with on the head like that!"</s>
<\|description\|>Isamu Shin ] Gender: Male Personality: TBR Bio: TBR Other: Age: 18 Familia: Athena Equipment: Weapon/shield: Mace + Shield Armor: Metal plates covering large sections of body, hard leather at joints to ensure mobility. STATS: STR: 10 DEF: 10 WPN: 10 AGI: 10 MAG: 10</s> <\|message\|>Isamu Shin The sky parted just enough for the morning sun to pierce the clouds, creating what looked like a ray of light to any that weren't in it, and simply a blinding light to those that were. The buildings seemed almost as if they were reaching up from the ground in an attempt to get some light, while still trying to maintain a stable, almost noble, appearance. The spire that Hephaestus, the deity of blacksmithing, sold wares from, stood tall and proud in the center of the city, built just over top of the dungeon itself, as to cause convenience for the adventurers who wished to avoid going too far out of their way for new equipment. Citizens of Orario walked about, beginning their day-to-day chores while the mass of adventurers that often started their adventures were gathering in the town square. Of course, there would be more that came later in the day, or those that adventured at night, or even those that were taking a day off. The life of an adventurer is what many would call a free life, one in which, so long as you saved enough, you could take a break almost any day you wanted, or fight constantly until you could safely retire. There were not, however, only adventurers here. There were also supporters, hefting around large bags to help adventurers with carrying the loot that they receive, as well as gods and goddesses seeing off the adventurers if they so chose. Other gods and goddesses may have been out working to sustain their familia along with their newer adventurers, or simply waiting at their familia's home, doing as they pleased. The supporters would be searching for adventurers to aid, and adventurers would either be looking for a party, or going in already unless they were simply there for their own needs. Shin yawned, stepping in between the tall buildings, spotting a tavern that's patrons wouldn't arrive until later that night, and its staff was working tirelessly to get it up and running before then. He turned his eyes back to the town square, to which he had almost arrived. He saw a supporter run past him, asking the adventurer they intended to go in with if they were ready. He frowned slightly, having not been in the dungeon quite yet, but already seeing the benefits of one such supporter. I know that my goddess just raked in a few new adventurers, me being one of them... So I wonder whether any of them want to team up... He glanced about, searching for any that may seem fairly new to the adventuring world.</s> <\|message\|>Magna Goldvein "Armor." Magna ruffled with her armor, securing it and bashing a fist into it once or twice. "Check." She looked at the Sword at her side and the shield on her arm. "Weapon and Shield? Check." She looked over her appearance before continuing on to Town Square from the alley way she was. She had just made it to town and been picked up by a goddess. Athena. "If I remember, there were others that just joined, weren't there. Perhaps I should ask them to join?" Now she was just trying to remember their names and what they looked like. "I'll remember when the time comes." She comforted herself as she moved into Town Square. The pure amount of people here was staggering though. People with weapons and armor. Those supporters with bags to carry everything. Magna laughed when she thought of if she could do the supporter role or not. Supporters, from what she understood, were more about picking things up and the like. Magna was a warrior, she joined Athena's familia to fight. On that note, "I need to find someone to. . ." Not too far from where she was, she saw a familiar face. Someone else from her familia. "What was your name? Shin? Right?" She asked. "You going out to the Dungeon too?"</s> <\|message\|>Isamu Shin Shin perked up slightly when he heard a voice speaking his name, and turned his eyes to the girl. "Yeah... And you're Magma? No, wait, sorry, Magna." He nodded as he hoped he got the name right. "Yeah, I'm heading in to the dungeon. I was actually looking for an adventuring friend or two to come along with me." He nodded to her, "Did you want to team up, at least for today?" He glanced to the dungeon, "I hear there's a lot of dangers in there, and the more of us, the less trouble we're in, I'd assume." He glanced to her, trying to judge what kind of fighting style she might use with her current equipment.</s> <\|message\|>Mizushi Seikou (First name Seikou) Seikou Getting his gear together, Seikou exited from his room. It was early in the morning, most of the others in the familia were asleep or left already. He was excited. After about 10 years, Athena had granted him the freedom to be an Adventurer in the familia. Working in her shop for so many years to repay her kindness of sparing him and even giving him a place to live. The others in the familia celebrated, at least most of them. there were those who still disdained him, considering what he had done. Seikou understands that, but continues to work on it. He has shown dedication to Athena through his work and even catching a thief who tried to steal from her. Heading out with his armor and set of chakrams, he was heading for the dungeon for the first time. Seikou thought it would be best not to bother the other adventurers in the familia. Heading out, to the guild for advice, he noticed a couple of people. Some of the newest recruits to the familia. Although, Seikou had been in the familia for a while, he only recently became an adventurer, so in a sense, he was as new as these two. "Hey, Shin and .... Magna, right?" Seikou called out to the two, pointing to each of them respectively to make sure he got the right name with the right person. "You guys heading to the dungeon? Have you gone to the guild yet? They have people to give out advice to starting adventurers and have lots of information, why don't you head there first?" Seikou suggested.</s> <\|message\|>Athena Athena finally woke up with the sun shining in her face and a large barn owl staring down at her from the headrest of her bed. The owl cocked his head to the side as he saw his master start to stir in the bed and hopped down from his perch to nudge her with his beak. "Stop it Artemis. I know your hungry." The Goddess rolled away from the owl and finally got out of bed and had a big stretch before changing into a white peplos which covered her up to her ankles. She looked in the full-length mirror to make sure she was presentable as a goddess before pulling her hair back into one long ponytail and leaving the room. She was aware that she had overslept which meant that she couldn't see her new adventurers off, but she would greet them when they returned from their first day. There was plenty of faith that the young would return without getting themselves killed to early. Artemis closely followed after the Goddess hoping the she would make her way to the kitchen to feed him.</s> <\|message\|>Magna Goldvein Magna turned to the other member of the familia that just showed up. She still wasn't too good with names, so she didn't even bother trying to say this new guy's. "Not yet, perhaps we could head there. It wouldn't hurt I suppose, though I do just want to get into the dungeon to fight." She unsheathed her sword to show it off, of sorts. "My mother made this sword. I want to use the weapon she made for me. It's no Hephaestus familia weapon, but I'm glad to use it." Setting it back into place she continued, "However, if you guys want to go I'll head there with you guys. Wouldn't be too good to go in there by myself, I'm not too sure what to expect."</s>	<\|message\|>Isamu Shin Ryan shook his head, looking to the dungeon. "Adventure calls..." He looked to the others, "If you two want to join me, come on, I think we have a good number... Think we should skip the first floor entirely?" He glanced between the two, then spoke up once more "If... You're both joining me, that is." He glanced towards the direction of the dungeon, tensing up slightly.</s>
<\|description\|>Ser Tomas Rossric Titles: Knight/Ser Social rank: Nobleman/Bastard Job or societal position: He's been granted a few honours by his sister, even though people look down on him. Officially he's a knight, and must protect the kingdom. Age: 20 Gender: Male Appearance: See above. Personality: Witty. He often gets out of situations with his tongue and not his sword. He's not very good at fighting. He likes to have a lot of fun, drinking, gambling. He's very different from his sister, but still loves her. History: Tomas was born a bastard to the late Lord Rossric. He does not know who his mother is, but based on his looks she was probably a northerner unlike Amber's mother, an Athosi. She does not like him, unlike his sister, for she always thought her husband was faithful. She looks down on him and rarely speaks to him. Many of the other inhabitants of the Forklands also look down on him, though some don't care of his bastardice and some even hold him in higher regard for not being a "typical nobleman". After discovering he wasn't very good at fighting, his father decided to get him more interested in books and literature. Tomas often reads, writes and this has developed him into a smart man. He constantly uses his wit and charm to get what he wants, or get out of certain situations. Skills: Use of wit and intellect, knowledge. Can only use a sword and shield, badly. Moderately good at riding. Dreams and fears: He dreams of knowing who his mother is, and also being accepted by society despite his bastardice to be less lonely. Favored equipment: He usually wears a loose tunic. In battle he covers it with chainmail and a tabard with his sigil, but with a white stripe across it showing his illegitimacy. He carries a wooden shield with a similar slashed crest, and a standard-issue hand-and-a-half (or aptly named Bastard) sword. Extra: N/A</s> <\|message\|>Alethea The road north was growing colder with each passing day and night. Alethea despised the cold. It brought back memories of many long nights from years gone by that she had spent huddled and shivering against her sister's frame - the only source of warmth available to her - while she prayed to any of the gods generous enough to hear her plea, that they would both wake up the next morning. She would often pray for more food too. Alethea hadn't wanted to leave the relative safety and comfort of the Great City in the south. Pickings were far more favourable there than those of other regions and the rich had more money than sense. However, her recent high-profile heists had earned her a reputation - and a price on her head. While she was wary of bounty hunters and their ilk, it was other thieves that had ultimately been behind her decision to accept an offer from a nobleman to steal something up north. The thieves and con-artists of the Great City were very territorial and had not taken kindly to a newcomer stepping on their toes and taking what they viewed as their bounty and loot. People said there was honour among thieves, but Alethea knew that if you were to ask any real thief, they would tell you you were sorely mistaken. Traveling the Great Northern Road alone was too risky, Alethea had decided, especially now that winter was drawing in. While the south enjoyed a moderate winter, the north truly did battle with the elements. Furthermore, if she decided to only travel when she thought she could pass unnoticed all the way to the north, it would take her an age to reach her destination. Thus, the most practical and safest avenue open to her was to join the wagons belonging to various traders that were heading that way. Choices were slim given the time of year, but Alethea secured herself a spot on one of them. Well, two spots really as Baego, the young lad that had stuck to her side like an adhesive for the past few months had decided to join her on her sudden journey. The wagons were less than a days ride from the heart of the north, the home of the infamous Weades. Alethea had so far tried to limit her contact with members of the trading company. The men soon got the message that no, she would not be warming their beds along the way and mostly left her alone now. The few women traveling with the wagons did try to draw her into idle chatter, but this always made Alethea feel uncomfortable. Simply talking with people had always been difficult for the young woman. She was never sure on what she should say or how to act. In such circumstances, Baego was her hero. He had sensed her discomfort right from the get go and would step into conversations or even answer for her. Baego had no problem talking - in fact, there was rarely a time when he wasn't talking. Even in his sleep he would murmur. The thief pulled her cloak tighter around her thin frame as a rather strong gale started to pick up. She hadn't managed to purchase thicker clothing for herself or Baego before they had left the Great City and the pair was suffering for it. Though neither had come down with an illness, Alethea was thankful that on the morrow she would be able to buy something more substantial to ward off the chill in the air. In the coming days, Alethea knew she would be receiving more information from her current employer on where exactly she would be stealing from as the nobleman had been rather vague on that particular aspect of the heist, simply telling her he would reveal such things when he knew she was in the north. Alethea did not like accepting work when there were such matters concealed and unknown to her, but the excitement she felt over what she was about to steal had swayed her decision.</s> <\|message\|>Joakim Mirke Weade Joakim sat upon the throne for several more minutes, as some of the earls had not yet left and he didn't want to seem rude by leaving before them. They were talking to eachother while overlooking the strategic map on the large table in front of the throne, pointing at several holdings of their own, to the north where recent reports of barbaric woodspeople have surfaced, an old annoyance to the Weade that Joakims' father had thought dealt with. Apparently they hadn't been dealt with. After pointing at the north, their hands shifted south to the border of the Forklands and the Whitelands. The few things Joakim heard from them related to the trade resuming there after a road had become unaccesible due to a heavy storm. It's good that trade resumed, whatever small amount of trade passed through. After discussing all that they bowed for Joakim, whom nodded in return and made a small gesture with his hand, before they left. Joakim was about to follow suit and retire for the night, but it seemed ser Rolland had urgent news of some sorts. He walked towards Joakim with a Northerners stride, it seemed, and handed him the daily raven messages. An annoyed look becrept Joakims face, more so for the messages than ser Rolland, for he had already gotten plenty of messages. No doubt these were more letters of support in this time of mourning. Joakim shook his head, they were merely trying to rub the Weades' the right way for the most part as most of them paid no mind to Rikard unless they needed something. However a certain letter caught his eye, being sealed with the seal of an Athos man. Quickly he opened it, and read it carefully. It seemed Jovan Athos was on his way to the north, a dangerous escapade for anyone, and more so this plagued man. But he was welcome none the less. Joakim turned back to Rolland, throwing the other letters onto the table without paying them more mind. From his jackets' pocket he revealed a letter, marked with the sign of Harrighfield, meaning it must've been written by lord Perris himself. "A message from the Harrighfields," he spoke softly, to not allow anyone other than Rolland to hear. "he claims the right to sit on our throne, as according to him Gregar is not fit to rule. And more so, he claims that right by force. We are going to war, it seems. I want you to raise the guards, and double the patrols. There will be no tresspassers here tonight." Joakim gave him a serious, stern and strict look before rolling the letter back to a mere roll of paper, and stuffed it back in his jacket. What he didn't mention to Rolland was the chance for a peaceful solution, though Gregar would not like it, most likely. His hands went over to the table again, grabbing the pile of letters, before greeting Rolland with a nod and walking away to his chambers. He would probably have to spend a night writing the 'thank you' letters to everyone, and then the entire tomorrow to rewrite them, as his handwriting was rather sloppy. --- Gregar smiled at Amber, who seemed intent on mocking him as he did her. "Aye, that horse was a tough one." His head turned around the room once again, spotting amidst the crowd that had gathered a man he knew as Tomas, the bastard. The man had somewhat short hair and a small beard, with a pair of blue eyes that would make any woman swoon as soon as the next. Gregar had never really been interested in him, and usually talked to him only when he had to, but he was sure the boy was a fine man. A bastard, but a fine man. A hand went up as he waved at Tomas slightly, almost as if he was trying to be funny doing it. He noticed some others, amongst others a tradesman he knew to be.. less than trustworthy, but very rich. He hadn't understood why Amber had kept the tradesman turned noble around, but then again Gregar didn't understand the concept of wealth either. Some armed man stood around the tradesman, but Gregar paid him no mind, since he blent in with the environment rather easily. Besides Amber were the advisors, all looking the part with their fancy robes and clothes, and a devilous grin on their face, as if they were so happy to spend their days listening to commoners' pleas. Or perhaps they were happy because they could rub their grubby little hands all over the Rossrics' wealth. "However if you'd excuse me, I wish to rest and the road to my home is yet long. Perhaps you have a quarters for me, after which I can stay the rest of tomorrow, leaving in the evening? I'd reach the border before midnight, and after that it would be not much longer."</s>	<\|message\|>Ser Tomas Rossric Amber nodded. She beckoned to one of the guards next to her, the Captain of the Guard, the man she trusted most after Tomas. "Please find lodgings for our good friend Lord Gregar. I should think my father's chambers are in order," she said. She hoped he would not be modest and refuse. The truth was most of the other chambers were now full, the royal one being among the few empty ones. She had chosen to keep her old room, and her brother and Tomas both avoided the royal chambers, leaving it unused. No one seemed shock at offering the old Duke's chambers, as Gregar was a reknowned nobleman and fighter. Amber thought for a second, then added "We'd be glad to entertain you for the night and tomorrow. Will you dine with us in the hall?". She made a mental note to ask the cooks to prepare a feast tonight, in honour of their guest. A few bards could be in order. She'd have to find a maid to see to the seating, as well. The Guard Captain came back to stand next to the queen. The manservant he'd brought came next to Gregar, waiting for his answer before bringing him to his chambers.</s>
<\|description\|>Cregan Hart Cregan Hart "Honor and Loyalty are stronger than steel, and mine will not break" Titles: Ser, "Weade's wolf" Social rank: Knight Job or societal position: Assigned to guard Joakim Weade Age: 25 Gender: Male Appearance: See picture above. Height: 6'2" Weight: 164 lbs Hair Color: Brown Eye Color: Blue Personality: Cregan can often come across as gruff or rude, but he has no cruelty in his heart. He easily loses his temper when he perceives something as a slight against his lords, which is due to his complete loyalty to the Weades. History: Cregan was born into a family that had served the Weades for generations as bannermen, but as the fourthborn son he had almost no chance to inherit. Almost as soon as he was old enough he became squire for Lord Rikard Weade, his age resulting in a fast friendship with Rikards son, Gregar. As he grew from a boy into a young man it became clear he was an exceptionally talented warrior, and Rikard began putting more effort into Cregan's martial education than would often be considered reasonable for a squire. Cregan excelled at his swordwork, though he was never one to lead troops, and always looked up to Gregar, being loyal to a fault. By the time he was granted a knighthood he was already something of a renowned warrior in Borhilon, bringing pride both to his own family and the Weades who he adored. When Rikard and Gregar left for war Cregan begged Rikard to take him with them, but Rikard insisted Cregan stay to protect the Wintershouse. Skills: Exceptional combatant with most weapons, both in battlefield and dueling scenarios. Dreams and fears: Cregan aspires to be the greatest knight in the Whitelands, or perhaps even Borhilon as a whole. His fear is to fail in his duties to protect the Weades. Favored equipment: Cregan wields a large two handed sword in battle, though he also carries a shield and axe for when he needs to fight more defensively. See image for armor. Extra: Sigil is a white wolf with antlers, the sigil of his family.</s> <\|message\|>Joakim Mirke Weade Joakim sat upon the throne for several more minutes, as some of the earls had not yet left and he didn't want to seem rude by leaving before them. They were talking to eachother while overlooking the strategic map on the large table in front of the throne, pointing at several holdings of their own, to the north where recent reports of barbaric woodspeople have surfaced, an old annoyance to the Weade that Joakims' father had thought dealt with. Apparently they hadn't been dealt with. After pointing at the north, their hands shifted south to the border of the Forklands and the Whitelands. The few things Joakim heard from them related to the trade resuming there after a road had become unaccesible due to a heavy storm. It's good that trade resumed, whatever small amount of trade passed through. After discussing all that they bowed for Joakim, whom nodded in return and made a small gesture with his hand, before they left. Joakim was about to follow suit and retire for the night, but it seemed ser Rolland had urgent news of some sorts. He walked towards Joakim with a Northerners stride, it seemed, and handed him the daily raven messages. An annoyed look becrept Joakims face, more so for the messages than ser Rolland, for he had already gotten plenty of messages. No doubt these were more letters of support in this time of mourning. Joakim shook his head, they were merely trying to rub the Weades' the right way for the most part as most of them paid no mind to Rikard unless they needed something. However a certain letter caught his eye, being sealed with the seal of an Athos man. Quickly he opened it, and read it carefully. It seemed Jovan Athos was on his way to the north, a dangerous escapade for anyone, and more so this plagued man. But he was welcome none the less. Joakim turned back to Rolland, throwing the other letters onto the table without paying them more mind. From his jackets' pocket he revealed a letter, marked with the sign of Harrighfield, meaning it must've been written by lord Perris himself. "A message from the Harrighfields," he spoke softly, to not allow anyone other than Rolland to hear. "he claims the right to sit on our throne, as according to him Gregar is not fit to rule. And more so, he claims that right by force. We are going to war, it seems. I want you to raise the guards, and double the patrols. There will be no tresspassers here tonight." Joakim gave him a serious, stern and strict look before rolling the letter back to a mere roll of paper, and stuffed it back in his jacket. What he didn't mention to Rolland was the chance for a peaceful solution, though Gregar would not like it, most likely. His hands went over to the table again, grabbing the pile of letters, before greeting Rolland with a nod and walking away to his chambers. He would probably have to spend a night writing the 'thank you' letters to everyone, and then the entire tomorrow to rewrite them, as his handwriting was rather sloppy. --- Gregar smiled at Amber, who seemed intent on mocking him as he did her. "Aye, that horse was a tough one." His head turned around the room once again, spotting amidst the crowd that had gathered a man he knew as Tomas, the bastard. The man had somewhat short hair and a small beard, with a pair of blue eyes that would make any woman swoon as soon as the next. Gregar had never really been interested in him, and usually talked to him only when he had to, but he was sure the boy was a fine man. A bastard, but a fine man. A hand went up as he waved at Tomas slightly, almost as if he was trying to be funny doing it. He noticed some others, amongst others a tradesman he knew to be.. less than trustworthy, but very rich. He hadn't understood why Amber had kept the tradesman turned noble around, but then again Gregar didn't understand the concept of wealth either. Some armed man stood around the tradesman, but Gregar paid him no mind, since he blent in with the environment rather easily. Besides Amber were the advisors, all looking the part with their fancy robes and clothes, and a devilous grin on their face, as if they were so happy to spend their days listening to commoners' pleas. Or perhaps they were happy because they could rub their grubby little hands all over the Rossrics' wealth. "However if you'd excuse me, I wish to rest and the road to my home is yet long. Perhaps you have a quarters for me, after which I can stay the rest of tomorrow, leaving in the evening? I'd reach the border before midnight, and after that it would be not much longer."</s> <\|message\|>Ser Tomas Rossric Amber nodded. She beckoned to one of the guards next to her, the Captain of the Guard, the man she trusted most after Tomas. "Please find lodgings for our good friend Lord Gregar. I should think my father's chambers are in order," she said. She hoped he would not be modest and refuse. The truth was most of the other chambers were now full, the royal one being among the few empty ones. She had chosen to keep her old room, and her brother and Tomas both avoided the royal chambers, leaving it unused. No one seemed shock at offering the old Duke's chambers, as Gregar was a reknowned nobleman and fighter. Amber thought for a second, then added "We'd be glad to entertain you for the night and tomorrow. Will you dine with us in the hall?". She made a mental note to ask the cooks to prepare a feast tonight, in honour of their guest. A few bards could be in order. She'd have to find a maid to see to the seating, as well. The Guard Captain came back to stand next to the queen. The manservant he'd brought came next to Gregar, waiting for his answer before bringing him to his chambers.</s> <\|message\|>Alethea There was a blizzard coming from the north. Though it was still some hours from fully reaching the small group of wagons Alethea and Baego were traveling with, the winds were picking up and the snow was coming down heavier than in the days before. The biting cold had been causing Alethea's face to ache, but as the temperature continued to drop, as did the sun in the sky, her entire body had started to feel numb. She held Baego close to her side inside the wagon as it rolled along the Great North Road. Instead of waiting for the storm to pass, the traders had decided to plough onwards and try to reach the north's capital before the storm reached them. Apparently there was no point in waiting for the storm to pass as blizzards this far north could last for days on end. Furthermore, they were unsure if any help from the castle would come to them if the wagons became snowed in. They had sent someone on ahead, but there was no guarantee of help. The pace the company of traders was setting was unforgiving and as Baego shivered uncontrollably next to her, Alethea found herself worrying for the young boy's health. Having lived his entire life in the south, he was not used to such harsh weather. Even though he had spent time living without a roof over his head, Alethea knew that the boy had never experienced such extremes in climate and she once again questioned the decision to allow the lad to accompany to the Great White North. She hadn't asked Baego along, but she hadn't stopped him either. "They grow up so fast, don't they?" Alethea looked up at the sound of the woman's voice. The woman was glancing before her and the shivering form against Alethea's side, meaning she was talking about Baego. Alethea felt her throat constrict when she realised the woman was address her and she had asked her a question. The thief's mind was sent into a whirl, scrambling to come up with an answer. A few moments passed and the woman was still looking at her expectantly. "I, um, I do not have enough experience with children nor do I have any offspring of my own to be able to give you an adequate response." Alethea's response came out rushed and as soon as she saw the slightly confused and surprised look on the woman's face, knew she had said the wrong thing once again. The woman merely nodded uncertainly, before turning to talk to someone else. Alethea let out a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding, glad she would not have to engage in conversation with her fellow traveller any more. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the woman and her companion shooting her glances as they spoke to each other. Clearly they were talking about her. Alethea ignored them. She was used to it. "You could have answered that one," she muttered quietly to Baego. The lad raised his head to look at her. "It was a statement and a question. All you had to do was agree with her." Oh. Alethea hadn't known that, but filed it away for later use. "And 'offspring'? Don't call children that." Again, the unknown snippet was filed away.</s>	<\|message\|>Cregan Hart Cregan had been stoically beside Joakim throughout the meeting of earls and small lords and other titles Cregan could barely be bothered to remember. He hadn't been paying very much attention to the mumbling of the lords milling through the great hall as his job was to protect Joakim, not spy on the dealings of underlings. Not that Joakim needed that much protection, the boy had grown into quite the warrior, but appearances mattered and if someone really wanted the boy dead it would be significantly harder to get through Cregan. When Joakim opened with his speech Cregan began to pay more attention, watching the faces of the crowd to determine who would be loyal and who might cause problems, and it took him a fair bit of willpower not to lash out at Earl Redford when the blithering fool spoke up, but he knew that would reflect poorly on Joakim, so he kept himself in check. He politely stepped away when Rolland arrived to give him privacy to speak with Joakim, not that it particularly mattered, he was already aware of the situation with Harrighfield, and was quite ready to help Gregar prove that the Whitelands were not as weak as the Harrighfields seemed to believe. Finally after Joakim had safely retired to his quarters Cregan relaxed, taking a brisk walk outside the halls into the yard, where he saw Rollands men training both against eachother and against straw targets. He casually walked over to a wall, leaning against it and regarding the lads training with a slight smirk. Occasionally he worked with Rolland to train particularly promising recruits, but none of the ones in the yard stood out to him.</s>
<\|description\|>Slooga Besadii Nem'ro Species: Hutt Age: 452 Planet of Origin/Birth: Nal Hutta Force Sensitive Y/N: No; it's safe to say Slooga isn't very sensitive to much, least of all things that involve kindness, generosity or anything not directly related to preserving his own skin. Appearance:A hutt. Ho-ho-ho-ho. Slooga prefers wide brimmed hats and a cane, because he's an alien space pimp. Description:Prior to a bad deal with Imperial Forces, Slooga Besadii Nem'ro was a crime lord working out of Ord Vetasi, runing a salvage and repair business that was actually a sophisticated ship theft and sales ring, supplying pirates, planetary defense forces looking for a bargain, separatists and others ships. Unwittingly, he also supplied ships to the Rebel Alliance, which is why the Empire finally came for him. He boosted off with what was left of his organization and went into the privateering business for the Rebel Alliance. It turned out that quite a number of pirates and smugglers in his operations had Rebel Sympathies and now he is only nominally in command with underlings to do his will for him if his operations are consistent with helping the Rebellion. He detests getting stuck in this position of having to take a side, but is resolved to make the best lemonade he can out of the lemons. It goes without saying that his pirate crew are not entirely in love with Slooga, but they are using his contacts to help move ships and loot on the black market when the Rebel Alliance isn't buying. There is even less love lost between Slooga and the troopers of 1st Platoon, but they are often roped into his money-making schemes as a result of being stationed on the Intruder. Slooga is, in a sense, a necessary evil and handles the supply and logistic end of the ship's needs, though the troops and pirates alike watch to make sure he's not shafting them in the process. It's worth noting that his one servant is a SE4 servant droid known as SE4I5, or High-Five, who does the cooking for Slooga as well as the various tasks that a slave might do...if all of his hadn't run off when the Empire came along. This impoverishment embitters Slooga, and he dreams longingly of acquiring a new palace once he's profiteered off this war.</s> <\|message\|>Corporal Jenk Beskad The LT bought it on an Outer Rim supply station manned by COMPFORCE fanatics; well-armed and thoroughly indoctrinated in the stern joys of the New Order. Joys, that was, if you were a virgin with a lot of angst; those COMPNOR scout camps were places were sex was punished way harder than brawling, which sent, in Palp's eyes, the right message to the lads they were training to carry rifles for him. That stuff happened after marriage. And boy, those marriages were sure to be great too, right? I mean, look at all the preparation they had for it -- all the empathy and fun beaten right out of them in assault training. If that sort of pissed off denial was the Imperial vision, it wasn't surprising that the Rebellion was a thing. Beskad gave the kids one good grade though; they went down well equipped with the latest. The Alliance didn't care about that gear for salvage, cost more to move it where it was needed than it was worth. The Alliance cut orders for the Intruder to raid because they wanted the food to relieve a siege in some neighboring system. So they sent the Intruder. The Intruder deployed an assault shuttle, a real nice rocket ride with mostly engine, designed, shockingly, for piracy. Out of the shuttle came the Liberators, rolling grenades, laying down withering fire and hitting fast and hard; they'd learned tight corridor fighting the hard way, and this was the platoon's kind of job. Tally? One dead lieutenant. Kelborn was a good guy, a survivor of Uslam. But he was zapped. "Fierfek," grunted Besk. "That little Core World snot got lucky with a grenade throw," growled another trooper, "coulda been any of us." "Zip him up; Slooga won't want the dead weight, but we have the guns." Just because the loot of the station wasn't valuable to the Alliance, surplus to the needs, didn't mean that the stuff wasn't valuable; those COMPFORCErs came with deluxe kit. It would fetch a price, but only after the platoon took the spoils they fancied. That was the deal. Shockingly, the Intruder's crew, literally pirates turned Navy rather than Navy, but suspiciously free-wheeling, kept their word. -- Vanguard station was carved into a large asteroid, it reminded Besk of times past in that way. It was also a major resupply and refit point for the Alliance's diverse naval operations. It was also a repple depple; cherries of all species, from factory fresh buck troopers barely out of a short "point it this way" training to Alderaanian university students converted into a semblance of an officer by dint of a diploma mill officer training. And of course, for its successes, 1st platoon reaped its punishment. The replacements were already lined up in the bay, fresh and totally at contrast to the ragged killers that just came off ship for a fast liberty-- say what one wanted for the Alliance, the base general, Salvathi, some alien, knew what made a fighting man tick. He has a slice of Nar Shaddaa set up, free of charge. Sure, the alcohol wasn't the finest-- processed right there-- but it was the right price. Free to anyone returning from a hostile contact with the enemy. Two days went fast, then they were back in the troop hold of the Intruder, nursing hangovers, to meet the new guys.</s> <\|message\|>Corporal Keller "Bits" Vannin "Check this out." Vannin turned over a mutilated helmet in his thick fingers. A scout model helmet, mean for their sharpshooters -- originally, at least. He'd been at it with a plasma cutter for days, and the only recognizable feature left was the shape of the face. "Gonna paint it black." He said the word with an air of reverence, which made about as much sense as anything else about his new toy, but clearly it made him happy. "I know what you're thinking. 'Keller, I can't bear the thought of fighting without your ruggedly-handsome face to inspire me.' Don't worry, see, I cut out the respirator and the cheeks, so you can still...." "Brass. Lock it up." Vannin reluctantly lowered his voice, but his mouth kept moving as he explained the bizarre design choices to no one in particular. He and a handful of other vets were lined up in (what passed for) their pretty uniforms in the hangar, ready to welcome some green rebel regs to the real job. Had to look all prim and proper for the marching types -- the captain even rigged up a speaker to play a very military-sounding tune for the fresh meat. The bullshit couldn't be over fast enough. Only one part in ten on this boat came from the Rebellion proper, and the rest was all black-market at best. They'd get the real picture soon enough. Then they'd adjust their expectations or they'd buy the farm like the LT. Slooga had just the medicine to fix that kind of hurt, and presently it was giving Vannin a headache that could tame a rancor. He put the picture of the LT in a box, and shoved it aside. New faces meant new work, hopefully. He didn't know much about rebel officers, but for this kind of work, the new guy better come with balls and salt, or they'd have to send a new one real quick.</s> <\|message\|>Toland Vas Toland watched as the veterans of The Intruder entered the troop hold. '1st Platoon, Charlie Company, 2nd Uslam "Liberators"'. These guys were the backbone of the Alliance, and now Toland was here ready to get some payback. Ever battle he was about to go in with this regiment was for Berchest. Toland looked over to Betuu, who was already standing at attention. The big droid's right arm was cocked back in an iron fist and his other arm stood parallel with his side. "What do you think bro," Toland asked. "If I had the capacity to care I wouldn't be wasting it here," the battle droid replied. "Bro." "Roger roger good buddy." Despite Betuu's mood, or lack of one, Toland was excited. He wanted to make the Empire suffer. Those bastards took away everything his father had worked hard for, and let him work himself close to death. Toland could never forgive them for the moves they pulled. He would make the galaxy a better place one dead stormtrooper at a time. Toland knew he wasn't the best shot in the universe, but he would bet good money that Betuu would definitely make up for his inexperience. Even with a blaster rifle and pistol, he wasn't sure if he would be even close to up to snuff without his battle droid. "Hey," Toland bothered again, "what do you think they will have us do first? Like some initiation bull?" "I'm not worried," Betuu bluntly replied. "Of course you're not." Soon militaristic music began to play through the intercoms as the main bulk of the veteran members arrived onboard. Toland began to notice confused stares more often then not lining up his way. Toland just smirked and held in a chuckle. "Hey, looks like you have a fun club dude," Toland told his droid. Betuu scanned the room, literally, and noticed the veteran eyes looking back at him. Betuu knew that he was sore thumb in a room full of fleshy beings, but he not shaken by the revelation. "Looks like you should have a reason to worried big guy," Toland joked. Betuu simulated a laugh with a simple automated, "ha."</s>	<\|message\|>Slooga Besadii Nem'ro He watched some of the replacements come in with impassive eyes; the Intruder wasn't a standard Alliance Navy ship, though the fleet largely was sitting back and building itself up for larger actions while the starfighters and smaller ships, like the Intruder, took the war to the enemy in raiding actions. Hit and fade, hit and fade. And while the Liberators were a line regiment, in theory, the reality is that they'd been converted from urban guerrillas to an army regiment to marine platoons in their time in the Alliance. That was the dice -- a new strategist came in and changed the old strategy, which forced everyone to adapt. It was the cycle of life and death, lessons learned and surviving in a tough environment. He was like Vannin; stashing non regulation equipment away when the Captain showed up. He'd acquired a vibroblade on one of their boarding actions, that was carefully placed in a footlocker and stowed along with the operational equipment; he had a Compforce-issue armored suit vest that he was radically modifying and fitting out with attachment points that also was put away. The Captain looked the other way on things so long as discipline appeared in order. The pirate crew hid itself in their section of the corvette, and Slooga graciously stayed in his quarters when such inspections happened. It wasn't the Imperial Army, but obvious disrepair tended to bring down the disapproval and no one needed that. The battle droid drew more attention from the assembled troopers than the replacement accompanying the battle droid. "A clanker?" whispered Besk, "I've never seen one of these before." Though there was at least one droid in the cargo hold that none of them could actually activate -- the security protocols were more advanced than their knowledge, which was saying something for a pretty tech-savvy crew. The droid looked like it had weaponry installed, and that made it a security model or something that could, theoretically, be put to use guarding the unit's armory when Besk wasn't around or the platoon was deployed. As the platoon's armorer, the locker's security was his job. Usually, the duty of securing it was done in shifts, or, if dropping, by a wounded trooper or someone not going on the drop. Never the Intruder's crew. Worse came to worst, they'd lock it tight, but a droid could fill the gap. "Yeah, well you were knee-high to a strill when the Clone War ended, weren't you?" muttered another trooper. "Look at it this way," Besk shot back in a low tone of voice, "At least one of the replacements is really ready to go. Wonder how Palps' vat-grown plastic boys are going to feel about that one...think those clones get nostalgic for the good old days?"</s>
<\|description\|>Slooga Besadii Nem'ro Species: Hutt Age: 452 Planet of Origin/Birth: Nal Hutta Force Sensitive Y/N: No; it's safe to say Slooga isn't very sensitive to much, least of all things that involve kindness, generosity or anything not directly related to preserving his own skin. Appearance:A hutt. Ho-ho-ho-ho. Slooga prefers wide brimmed hats and a cane, because he's an alien space pimp. Description:Prior to a bad deal with Imperial Forces, Slooga Besadii Nem'ro was a crime lord working out of Ord Vetasi, runing a salvage and repair business that was actually a sophisticated ship theft and sales ring, supplying pirates, planetary defense forces looking for a bargain, separatists and others ships. Unwittingly, he also supplied ships to the Rebel Alliance, which is why the Empire finally came for him. He boosted off with what was left of his organization and went into the privateering business for the Rebel Alliance. It turned out that quite a number of pirates and smugglers in his operations had Rebel Sympathies and now he is only nominally in command with underlings to do his will for him if his operations are consistent with helping the Rebellion. He detests getting stuck in this position of having to take a side, but is resolved to make the best lemonade he can out of the lemons. It goes without saying that his pirate crew are not entirely in love with Slooga, but they are using his contacts to help move ships and loot on the black market when the Rebel Alliance isn't buying. There is even less love lost between Slooga and the troopers of 1st Platoon, but they are often roped into his money-making schemes as a result of being stationed on the Intruder. Slooga is, in a sense, a necessary evil and handles the supply and logistic end of the ship's needs, though the troops and pirates alike watch to make sure he's not shafting them in the process. It's worth noting that his one servant is a SE4 servant droid known as SE4I5, or High-Five, who does the cooking for Slooga as well as the various tasks that a slave might do...if all of his hadn't run off when the Empire came along. This impoverishment embitters Slooga, and he dreams longingly of acquiring a new palace once he's profiteered off this war.</s> <\|message\|>Toland Vas Toland spasmed for a moment, being caugh off guard twice in a literal matter of seconds. He should of known that the HK-51 unit he had worked on weeks ago would be persistent, but being close to a stalker never came to mind. "I'm sorry, one second," Toland asked Tadia politely with a hint of embarrassment. He turned to HK, grabbed the droid by the "shoulders" and stared him directly into his sensors. "I'm sorry, but this is getting to be a little much," Toland told the droid outright. "I am not your master. I don't want I be your master. I want you to find the person with the most facial hair in this room and make him your master. That is a direct order!" With that done, Toland turned back to Tadia with as much composure he could muster and saluted her. "Private Toland Vas, at your service. Not a complete idiot and yes, good with droids. My big metal friend here is Betuu. Say hi." "Hi," Betuu copies as if he were a big weaponize parrot. "Also, side note," Toland added in, "I don't condone anything the HK unit just said before. He's not mine."</s> <\|message\|>Thanner Antares Thanner stood among the regiment's new recruits, and could not help but turn up his nose at the stench of cheap liquor in the air. He knew that the regiment's soldiers considered themselves to be separate from the pirate crew aboard the Intruder, but he found it difficult to make that distinction himself. As he glanced across the room at the veterans of the unit, the likely source of the foul odor, he noticed one of the soldiers pointing a finger at him and muttering about. Thanner smirked and turned away, undoubtedly projecting a foulness of his own. It was the stench of arrogance. Of elitism. A stench not so easily washed away. In his short time with the Rebellion Thanner had become privy to such accusatory gestures and mutterings, and he had become exceedingly adept at shrugging them off. Perhaps too adept. Thanner refocused his attention as the new Lieutenant spoke. "My name is Lieutenant Durod Byron. I understand you folks have been holding your own out here for some time, and Fleet Command is real happy about the way you boy... you folks do work." "Not a great start," Thanner thought to himself, glancing around again at the rugged folks in his midst. "Now we're here to fill in some gaps, and help you keep doing what you do best. I know this can be a little awkward, and hopefully we'll get used to each other pretty quick, but in the meantime I just want you all to know that I'm not here to change the way you fellas do business. I'm gonna do my best to stay out of your hair, and together we'll get the JOB done, your way. So. Take a few minutes and get acquainted. The new guys brought a little extra gear, feel free to help them square it away, and we'll meet up in the briefing room in two hours. Got a hot new target in mind, should be a good hit." To say that things would be a little awkward was surely an understatement, but Thanner was confident that he would soon be able to smooth things over. He had been in tough spots before, but he had always been able to talk his way out of a situation. In truth, his tongue had saved him more times than he could count, and it was what allowed him to excel as an agent of the Empire. Thanner had much less confidence however, in the Lieutenant's ability to lead. Thanner knew that, above all, these gruff military-types responded to authority and detested weakness. After what these men had been through, they had no place for weakness. Lieutenant Byron possessed authority on paper, but he oozed weakness through every orifice, and Thanner knew that the veterans would detect this as surely as he detected their disgusting aroma. He wondered how long the Lieutenant could survive in this environment. After the Lieutenant finished his address, Thanner made his way across the hangar, deliberately walking past the same soldier that had been unsubtlety gesturing in his direction previously. "Guess he doesn't want us punching the new guys just yet, huh," he heard the soldier say. "I should certainly hope not," Thanner replied casually, "For your sake." Turning his back to the soldier, Thanner carried on. He saw the Lieutenant whispering something to a woman before exiting the hangar, and he managed to catch the woman's eye with his own piercing gaze. He strode over to the woman and extended his hand, ensuring that the display was seen by the soldier he had mocked. "Sergeant Sekula I presume? My name is Antares...Thanner Antares."</s> <\|message\|>Tadia Omi-Ren "Doc" Tadia sighed at the response of the droid. Saying she was threatening, out of everyone in the room she was by far the least likely to do anything harmful towards him than any of the other veterans. She rolled her eyes as she sent it away. "You may regret doing that later, Beskad won't be happy with a puppy dog following him around calling him master." She paused for a second. "Or he might, however in the case that he doesn't your secrets safe with me." She briefly returned the salute, feeling stupid as she did so. "Also relax, I'm just a lance corporal-" She offered her hand. "Tadia, though most call me Doc. As you can tell I'm the Doctor slash medic. Well I do a lot of medic work but I got my doctorate and one of the few of us who has so... yeah just stick to Doc or Tadia." She took out her datapad and brought up an image of a IM-6 medical droid. "I'm having some problems with the droid in the med-bay. His repulsors are shot, as is his diagnostic equipment so I'm needing to tell him what needs to be done and oversee everything he does to make sure that he doesn't do more harm than good. It's becoming a bit of an inconvienance." She shrugged as she clipped her datapad back to her waist. "Can you fix it?"</s> <\|message\|>Toland Vas Toland gratefully took Tadia's hand and shook. "Well first, sorry to bring this up but most IM-6 models were manufactured with feminine programming," Toland replied, "but yeah, this is like a half an hour fix tops. IM-6s may of been top class back in their day, but Cybot Galactica shit the bed manufacturing those girls for longvity. Fixing the repulsors will just take a little calibrating. She will probably have trouble the first few days, but after a week she will be zooming around like she found a chem stash." Toland stopped for a second and scratched his chin. "Her equipment might need some tinkering. It's a problem I'd have too look at first hand. What kind of equipment is she packing? I'm only coming up with blanks right now." Toland looked behind her for a second, noticing that the veterans had turned their interest from Betuu to him. "So," he brought up abruptly, "how long do you think I have to live out here?"</s> <\|message\|>Corporal Jenk Beskad "Hopefully, long enough," he replied to Toland's survival question "I'm Corporal Beskad, the platoon armorer. All you new arrivals need to see me so we can do a weapons function check," he said casually, "so we can make sure nothing goes 'click' when we need it to go 'pow.'" There was a second reason he wanted to check people's weapons out, and that was to casually assess their skills at marksmanship. As the Alliance had diverse sources of training, it was important to find out what the new guys knew and what they didn't, and Besk felt that a 'function check' was a nicer way of doing that than telling them outright that they were going to have to qualify for marksmanship under his eye. Also, it was real -- the Alliance had multiple sources of blasters, and that meant having to inspect the weapons. "Also, I notice that both the droids are combat models, so I'd like to see if we can start putting them on sentry duty over the weapons locker. The crew of the Intruder," and he said this without batting an eyelash even though he was shagging the gunnery officer and every one of the veterans knew it, "are not what we'd call entirely trustworthy and we have a Hutt on board. Security for our weaponry and explosives is a must." It meant they could free up more duty time by putting a droid on it for other jobs, so Besk was jumping right on that opportunity. But as he spoke of 'untrustworthy' his eyes tracked Thanner; he wasn't going to say it where the Lieutenant could hear it, but there was a reason he wanted a droid on weapons locker detail -- they had an Imperial agent on board and he didn't like that any more than his comrades. He actually felt a little naked without firepower strapped to his hip in the form of a pistol or something similar.</s> <\|message\|>Toland Vas "Yes sir," Toland replied. "No need to worry about Betuu here. His security subroutines are some of the best the old Seps could offer. Also, he is the type of guy to go pow-pow, or pow-pow-pow, sir." Toland looked back to the HK-51 unit, who was still probably scanning the room to fulfill his new objective. "Honesty sir, you can keep the brown one. Very clingy bot, but from what info I have it seems to be some kind of old assassin protocol droid. Favorited thousands of years ago. He might need a little weapons calibration, but he should be ship-shape for use. Nobody is getting at your guns with him around." Betuu butted into the conversation, spamming beeps and boops like there was no tomorrow. "What have I told you about not insulting people in Droid Speak," Toland replied. "'It is not cool,'" the droid replied in basic.</s>	<\|message\|>Slooga Besadii Nem'ro "No need to sir me, I work for my living. Just do me a favor and make sure the droids get over to the armory and do some weapons calibration tests to make sure their blasters are functioning properly, and bring your personal weaponry along as well. I want to shake everyone's equipment down before the next drop, whatever it is. Then we can talk about putting the droids on sentry duty. I like the idea of having droids that shoot to kill on the locker, given our situation in here." He meant Thanner as much as Slooga or the pirates; the Hutt was no doubt salivating, ugly mental image, at the idea of some sort of Imperial Intelligence agent in the ship. Besk wasn't going to take a chance with those two on board. Heck, Slooga had a price on his head from the Empire too, and hopefully the Sarge was canny enough to remind the old slug of that. It frustrated Besk a bit that they had no idea what the next op was, though they'd know in an hour, which was enough time to wash up a bit more and try to get the pounding out from behind his eyes. The Lieutenant could have given them a hint of what they were doing, but Besk took it all in stride -- for the most part, they were a pirate ship's unusually disciplined boarding force. The Intruder's crew were old hands at raiding commerce and the Liberators had experienced guerrilas and miners in their ranks that knew how to fight in tight quarters. The truth was, the training on Uslam for conversion from guerrilla to line infantry was tough, but it made them more versatile. They just hadn't been called on those skills yet in any substantial way. The Rebellion just wasn't fighting open pitched battles with an Empire that could overwhelm them at any given point. The strategy was to hit fast and make them constantly react. But when the Empire showed up in force, the Alliance went to ground and just gathered the intel on the movements. Wash, rinse, repeat.</s>
<\|description\|>Slooga Besadii Nem'ro Species: Hutt Age: 452 Planet of Origin/Birth: Nal Hutta Force Sensitive Y/N: No; it's safe to say Slooga isn't very sensitive to much, least of all things that involve kindness, generosity or anything not directly related to preserving his own skin. Appearance:A hutt. Ho-ho-ho-ho. Slooga prefers wide brimmed hats and a cane, because he's an alien space pimp. Description:Prior to a bad deal with Imperial Forces, Slooga Besadii Nem'ro was a crime lord working out of Ord Vetasi, runing a salvage and repair business that was actually a sophisticated ship theft and sales ring, supplying pirates, planetary defense forces looking for a bargain, separatists and others ships. Unwittingly, he also supplied ships to the Rebel Alliance, which is why the Empire finally came for him. He boosted off with what was left of his organization and went into the privateering business for the Rebel Alliance. It turned out that quite a number of pirates and smugglers in his operations had Rebel Sympathies and now he is only nominally in command with underlings to do his will for him if his operations are consistent with helping the Rebellion. He detests getting stuck in this position of having to take a side, but is resolved to make the best lemonade he can out of the lemons. It goes without saying that his pirate crew are not entirely in love with Slooga, but they are using his contacts to help move ships and loot on the black market when the Rebel Alliance isn't buying. There is even less love lost between Slooga and the troopers of 1st Platoon, but they are often roped into his money-making schemes as a result of being stationed on the Intruder. Slooga is, in a sense, a necessary evil and handles the supply and logistic end of the ship's needs, though the troops and pirates alike watch to make sure he's not shafting them in the process. It's worth noting that his one servant is a SE4 servant droid known as SE4I5, or High-Five, who does the cooking for Slooga as well as the various tasks that a slave might do...if all of his hadn't run off when the Empire came along. This impoverishment embitters Slooga, and he dreams longingly of acquiring a new palace once he's profiteered off this war.</s> <\|message\|>Tadia Omi-Ren "Doc" Tadia shrugged as the Imperial came over - small ship, big mouths - and began speaking to the Sgt, before rubbing her scars. "You better have clean hands, if that gets infected it's on you. Also if your fingers get broken, your fault too." With that Toland came over and spoke to her about the droid. She just sighed. "You know, you're going to need to gather some form of marksmanship skills sooner or later. Even I can shoot a gun, and hit something." A couple of the veterans stopped on the way passed giving her looks. "I can hit stuff most of that time." They continued giving the look. "Do you want medical treatment in the future?" With that they walked off. She turned her attention back to Toland. "What did I tell you? One big happy family. Full of some absolute-" The new Lieutenant walked past "-amazing people." She winked at Toland. "Come with me I'll show you Iggy. Don't ask me how he got the name I got him with it, I just kinda rolled with it." She turned signalling down the hall in a Move out! gesture before walking out of the hanger. The ship was in... various states of disrepair. A couple of the panels were original though a large portion of them seemed to have been replaced to either take the place of damaged ones or to fit in some form of upgrade to the ship. Even in her pirate days a lot of work had been done to the ship, so they were told. She walked into the med-bay, like all med-bays it was largely white and sterile with a couple of stains here and there. Four beds lay side by side, two of them occupied and there was space for a bacta tank at either end of the room as well as what would be presumed as a door into surgery. Plants littered most of the free spaces in order to try and create a nice smell, however you could still smell the oil and hydrulic smell that inhabited most of the ship. As they entered a small droid tried to hover off one of the beds, falling ot the floor and almost scraping along the floor in their general direction. "Toland, meet Iggy. He's like my pet, but more useless." She bent down as if speaking to a small animal, changing her tone of voice. "Isn't that right Iggy?""Affirmative." She stood up. "Told you."</s> <\|message\|>Toland Vas "Hi Iggy," Toland began, "your boss here told me that you haven't been doing well lately. I'm here to help. You can call me a doctor of sorts. A droid doctor! Top ten in my class in The Grand Skakoan Insitute of Droid Technologies." It was obvious that the issue here wasn't just some bad Cybot Galacitic longevity issues. Well, it was a part of the problem. No something else was keeping the little droid down. Toland turned to Tadia, his mind racing at different possibilities. The first thing that came to mind was Iggy's modifications. A small model droid like a IM-6 would have issues hovering after a while with non-factory standard mods. "Ok so I have some ideas brewing," he told her. "Do you have spare small power cells laying around?"</s> <\|message\|>Tadia Omi-Ren "Doc" Tadia burst out laughing, before slapping her side. Though she soon stopped. "Wait you're serious?" She put on a consoling face and walked over, putting her hand on Tolands shoulder. "Toland, this is the Rebel Alliance. We don't have spare anythings." She took a moment to look around. She ended up walking over to one of the older model MD droids sitting in the corner, turned it around and puilled the fusion battery out of it before tossing it over. "Use this, this MD droid has had it. In fact if you get Iggy working you can have it as fair payment for your time. Whether for spare parts or if you want to fix it up. Your call." She looked at Iggy. "I don't even understand why this is happening, the only thing that isn't box standard as far as I know is his masculine programming. No extra drug compartments or anything like that. Though I wouldn't put anything past happening on this ship."</s> <\|message\|>Toland Vas "I was just going to ask if you were up for some drink later on after this," Toland replied with a smile as he looked onto the MD droid. The old model had definitely seen hard days, either through hours of long surgery or medicating the unsavory crew of the Intruder. "If you want I can still take that old guy off your hands. Turn him into something useful like an clock or something." Toland took the power cell and hooked it up directly to Iggy's repulsorlift, overclocking it by about one-hundred and fifty percent. Along with that, Toland redirected all of the IM-6's base power cells directly to all other systems and equipment. If his hunch was right, little Iggy would be zipping and zooming around like an X-Wing pilot on the roughest drugs in the galaxy. "Ok Iggy, I want you to do five laps around the med-bay. I want you to stay low in case there something else is going on and you lose control. After the second lap, I want you to go as high as you can and show us what you are made of."</s> <\|message\|>Tadia Omi-Ren "Doc" Tadia laughed again. "Alcohol on an Ex-Pirate ship? Well. That's just a recipe for disaster. Alcohol only on shore leave, except the stuff I have in here for cleaning wounds." She pointed to a locked cabinet. "And even then I need to keep an eye on it that it doesn't go missing." She sighed as the droid went around the room, banging into things as he did so, after a couple of attempts at circumventing a bed he rocketed up into the air hitting the ceiling before falling back down, flat on his back. "I did tell you he couldn't see, right?" She winced as he sparked slightly, he was pretty much toast. "I think Iggy might be a longer term project than you had hoped he would be and what I would hope he would be." She eyed around the room, as if saying something that was secret and she shouldn't say. "Between you and me, I think he's the only other doctor other than me." Then she stopped. "Well, that's actually true. Well, he's not a Doctor but he has the same training. I mean there are plenty of medics around." She grabbed her jacket in a show of pride. "But I'm a doctor, got my diploma somewhere... though I can't remember where I put it. The Hutt probably sold it for alcohol or something, I don't know." Her chrono beeped. "Though the mystery of the missing Doctorate will have to wait for another time, briefing time."</s> <\|message\|>Lieutenant Durod Byron a short time later Sergeant Sekula called the room to order as Lt. Byron entered. All the Liberators were gathered -- old and new -- for their first mission brief together as a unit. Byron, feeling himself like the newest face, was quick to put everyone at ease, and rolled hastily into the mission overview. This objective had come from Fleet command prior to his arrival, so it came with holo imagery from the Intel division. He controlled these with a small remote, and flicked through points of interest as he spoke. "Everyone settling in, I hope? Well, we'll get back to that soon enough, but first things first." A developed world flicked onto the display. "You're looking at Col Besba. Unassuming planet, not much special about it. Imperial controlled, but they get a lot of slack and we're about to take advantage." The holo display zoomed in on a spaceport. "This is Ganatoo, primary trade hub and home to a skeleton Imperial garrison. Now these aren't fighters -- it's a support unit for the Lionesse, a Victory-class destroyer that patrols the sector. We're talking mostly spanner jockeys stationed here, with a small security detail that mostly stays home to protect their supplies from the criminal elements. Today, we don't bother them and they don't bother us -- we're interested in the comm relays, out here on the outskirts of the city." The display moved again, west about a click, and displayed a confounding array of antennae and power stations. "Intel is.... what was the word they used... 'keenly interested' in cracking the Imperial secured networks. They've had some success, but now they're looking for a way to introduce some kind of worm, which they've given to us. Our primary objective is to introduce this worm to this relay. From there it bounces off the Lionesse and into sith-knows-what, and if we're lucky, someday the data finds its way back to the spooks. If that's ever going to happen, we can't have the imps smelling rebel activity, or they'll just purge the worm before it can do its thing, which brings us to our second objective. "Your good friend Slooga has offered to support the mission. He has interests in Ganatoo, and a personal visit shouldn't trigger any red flags on the spaceport's traffic logs. A personal visit also means personal security, which will serve as our cover for the relay op. We'll ingress on Slooga's craft in two teams, one for nominal security on Slooga, and one for the slicing objective. Slooga's team will stay with him and -- this goes without saying -- keep him safe for as long as it takes to close his deal. Presently there's nothing to suggest any threats on that front, but this isn't the core worlds, so keep your heads on a swivel. When the deal is done, security detail will give the all clear and the slicers will rejoin at the craft for exfil. "Two things can blow this op wide open. One, the Lionesse goes off-schedule and returns to Col Besba before the slicers are open. Their software detects a hack, it's game over. Fleet is watching them closely and if she jumps our way, we'll have thirty minutes to get clear or lie low. Number two, if the imperial garrison gets any hint of Alliance, they might -- if they're smart -- think to check the codes. If they do that, the worm is dead and we failed. This is an undercover operation -- uniforms off, leave any standard gear at home, and act as Cartel as you can manage for as long as you're on site. The preference is we do this whole thing undetected, but if enemy contact is inevitable, plan B is to make this look like crime. We have discretion to either pull the worm out, or leave it in place and disguise the op as something else. Swipe a few credits from the Imperial slush fund, and they might just miss the real damage. "A sensor sweep can happen at any time, so keep the comm channels clear. We're going to use real basic codes for status updates -- security detail, you're the pet nerf. Slicers, you're the weather. Check on the other team by asking about the weather or the nerf. If one of you has a problem, the nerf is sick, the weather is bad, whatever sounds natural, just keep it short. If everything goes according to plan, we're in and out and back on deck in four hours or less. "Sergeant Sekula will be leading the slicer team. Dob, Beskad, you'll go along too, in case we need to run plan B. I want the droids with Slooga's detail, along with anybody else who can pass for a pirate. If you've got preferences, talk to the sergeant. We'll need our teams ready by 2300. "Questions, concerns, anything that needs clearing up?"</s>	<\|message\|>Slooga Besadii Nem'ro "Yes, sir," Besk spoke up, "I realize this is more Slooga's end than ours," but they'd been guerrillas, so he had something to add, "do we have a profile on local security forces? They can be rough here in the Rim, as they know more tricks, but usually they can be paid off." Good guerrillas often had criminal mindsets, it was said, always looking at an angle... He let that sink in, "also, do we have ground transport in case we need to get out and go to ground as a contingency? If compromised, the Intruder can boost off and make a pickup later once the heat is off, but we should have alternate extract sites prepared in case the heat is bad and we can't reach the first extract point. This is a guerrilla operation sir, we need code phrases for being overrun and captured, so we can tell you to essentially disregard all broadcasts." Thanner; the reason Besk wanted to make sure that if he were caught, others got away. He didn't have to look at he other Uslamers; they knew the terror of having a friend captured and used against them, the strain of letting the bait die in ISB hands, horribly. They knew what it was like to have to kill friends that were comprised, what a bitter decision it could be to kill a friend to save your own skin to keep fighting. These were the ambiguities. The hard calculus of guerrilla war. Besk wanted to make sure that if all went wrong, his friends wouldn't get killed to rescue him if the odds were against. After all, they were dead men with bad odds the day they decided to fight the Empire and nothing changed there. That grim outlook was why alliance command rated the Liberators' morale, as a regiment, as "Excellent-- highly motivated to fight."</s>
<\|description\|>Slooga Besadii Nem'ro Species: Hutt Age: 452 Planet of Origin/Birth: Nal Hutta Force Sensitive Y/N: No; it's safe to say Slooga isn't very sensitive to much, least of all things that involve kindness, generosity or anything not directly related to preserving his own skin. Appearance:A hutt. Ho-ho-ho-ho. Slooga prefers wide brimmed hats and a cane, because he's an alien space pimp. Description:Prior to a bad deal with Imperial Forces, Slooga Besadii Nem'ro was a crime lord working out of Ord Vetasi, runing a salvage and repair business that was actually a sophisticated ship theft and sales ring, supplying pirates, planetary defense forces looking for a bargain, separatists and others ships. Unwittingly, he also supplied ships to the Rebel Alliance, which is why the Empire finally came for him. He boosted off with what was left of his organization and went into the privateering business for the Rebel Alliance. It turned out that quite a number of pirates and smugglers in his operations had Rebel Sympathies and now he is only nominally in command with underlings to do his will for him if his operations are consistent with helping the Rebellion. He detests getting stuck in this position of having to take a side, but is resolved to make the best lemonade he can out of the lemons. It goes without saying that his pirate crew are not entirely in love with Slooga, but they are using his contacts to help move ships and loot on the black market when the Rebel Alliance isn't buying. There is even less love lost between Slooga and the troopers of 1st Platoon, but they are often roped into his money-making schemes as a result of being stationed on the Intruder. Slooga is, in a sense, a necessary evil and handles the supply and logistic end of the ship's needs, though the troops and pirates alike watch to make sure he's not shafting them in the process. It's worth noting that his one servant is a SE4 servant droid known as SE4I5, or High-Five, who does the cooking for Slooga as well as the various tasks that a slave might do...if all of his hadn't run off when the Empire came along. This impoverishment embitters Slooga, and he dreams longingly of acquiring a new palace once he's profiteered off this war.</s> <\|message\|>Slooga Besadii Nem'ro Traffic control was a small room with a large mainframe and a few access terminals, designed to control an entire plannet's ship traffic grid and provide very precise model predictions as well as interact with ships' nav computers and autopilots to provide the necessary data to get them down safely, or at least to provide pilots the guidance. Luckily, the company that provided it also provided the code to Rebel programmers, who swiftly developed very efficient viruses to penetrate the system and bug it. The PDA being used for the virus insertion by Toland went off with a warning, intended to go off if a security station arose. Handed the pad, Serossa's eyes widened considerably even as she got on the commlink with the LT and Intruder's bridge and announced, "Dove hunt." That was the code word for Imperial trouble, that the mission was compromised by Imperial Forces. A Pigeon Trap was bounty hunters and a Duck Lure was local law enforcement. A Dove Hunt was a definite abort; if the Empire caught wind of them, they'd pile on the reinforcements and firepower until the rebels were dead. One could shoot their way past local forces and buy off or gun down bounty hunters, but the Imperials with the element of surprise was a good reason to fade out of the system as quickly as possible. She turned to the others, after hitting the pad several times to abort the upload, scrub the stuff already in the Ganatoo system and sanitize the logs to show nothing ever happened. The mission was burned; if the upload were to complete itself, it would be able to conceal itself in the system, but a partial upload would be unstable and possibly reveal itself to the Imperials. An abort and erasure meant having to start over from scratch on the upload, but at least the Imperials might not ever be the wiser for the hack attempt. "Lionesse is en route, looks like, they just cleared all traffic in the Ganatoo pattern for an Imperial Code VTRL. We walk out real casual," she told the rest, "and we go to the port's speeder parking. But anything that we didn't encounter coming in that tries to stop us gets blasted." Besk nodded; assume ISB and shoot to kill; and as Besk figured-- suicide rather than capture. It might get messy, but any bribed guards would possibly turn on them with imperial trouble-- the Empire cared little for smuggling but a lot about Rebels and they'd paid smuggler rate bribes suitable for local, not Imperial, trouble. "I'll lead Serossa," he said casually, knowing that the point had to kill fast; Sekula needed to be on Thanner's back and Thanner couldn't be up on point. Toland was a cherry. Besk threw him a wink he didn't feel. "I've got rear," the sarge said as they moved out, along the slightly shabby blue-painted plastoid hallways of Ganatoo, eventually melding with the crowd of regular people who were not, it seemed, panicking or trying to necessarily leave, though they were held up in the terminal. That, to Besk's eyes, looked good -- the security people didn't look all that surprised, and while all the departures and arrivals showed delays, it didn't look like the trouble was spaceport trouble. He didn't quite dare breathe a sigh of relief as they got out the doors; the Sarge clearly didn't see anything either, since she was the one best qualified to spot a tail and off the bastard if necessary. But so far, all clear, especially when they took a few turns into less crowded areas, checked the horizon for any signs of surveillance. If they were being tracked, they'd have to be good, and if they were that good, the Liberators were probably burned. Shockingly, they made it to their speeder truck, "borrowed" with no sign that they were the object of he security problem; a quick scan of hacked local comms, using code lifted from the traffic control system indicated it was...of course. Slooga. "What's the plan, Sarge?"</s> <\|message\|>Lieutenant Durod Byron "Heads up." By now all the Liberators on the escort detail were wise to the danger at hand. They all tried to keep a low profile even though they were on high alert -- Vannin even managed to quiet himself, expecting imminent trouble. Trouble came. Slooga shook hands with the local contact, and the local contact didn't let go. The facade bled away in an instant -- muzzles left their holsters on both ends of the square. The contact raised his voice. "You all know the game," the man said loudly. "Sooner or later they get us all. Imps pinched me three weeks ago, and I walk if I give them the hutt. Walk away now, we'll do the same." "Bastard!" Slooga bellowed. "You can shoot it out if you like," the contact continued, ignoring his new prisoner. "Their frigate is already enroute. You can make it out if you run, but not if you fight. Just walk away. Leave the hutt with me, and one of you can take his place, I don't care. We can do this nice and easy, or we c..." The contact stopped short. He let go of Slooga's hand, and crumpled to the ground with an audible sizzling sound. Slooga turned to face his men, a disruptor pistol smoking in his left hand. "Kill them all!" he roared. The battle erupted in a flash. Pirates from both sides opened fire. Vannin sprayed a hail of bolts at the high rise opposite their position, then loaded a fresh cell and advanced, crouching and weaving his way towards Slooga, who was already flanked by troopers. Lt. Byron was there, letting loose with a heavy pistol and trying to speak calmly into his communicator. He was doing a poor job. Vannin snatched it out of his hands and screamed, "Nerf just shit the bed, get over here and clean it up! Now!" A hostile ran towards them, and Keller pitched the communicator at him, then brought up his rifle and took him down hard. "We need a plan!" Byron shouted. "We need to bug out!" Keller agreed. Slooga was barking orders. His pirates might have heard them, but Byron ignored them entirely. "Corporal!" he yelled, grabbing Vannin's shoulder. "Secure a path to the shuttle!" Vannin nodded. "Give me three minutes. And send the slug now! He'll slow you down!" He tossed a grenade into the hostile end of the square and turned on his heels. "Hayca! Fish! On me!" The three of them moved into the alley. The squad was surrounded -- but not for long. Meanwhile, Lt. Byron labored in vain to separate Slooga from the front line of the firefight. By now the friendlies had gained a slim edge, but more enemies were pouring in, and stormtroopers wouldn't be far behind. Confounded, Byron spotted Tadia nearby. "Doc!" he called. "We gotta get him moving now. You're in charge. Get. Him. On. That. Shuttle!" Someone called out a flanking move by the enemy, and Byron's attention was absorbed once more in the shooting. He slid into cover a few meters away, and tried his luck giving orders to Slooga's pirates. Slooga, furious but at last realizing the futility of prolonging the issue, growled and cursed, and at last began to cooperate with his Alliance team. "Get me out," he muttered.</s> <\|message\|>Tadia Omi-Ren "Doc" Tadia jumped behind cover, firing her rifle over it. "I'm in charge of the Hutt? I hope you get shot Byron." She jumped over the barrier literally pushing the giant slug towards an alleyway. "Stay in cover idiot." The Hutt cursed something in huttese. "Yeah, if you got something to say that isn't nice keep it in your mouth. Though you should probably do as I say right now as I've never operated on a Hutt before, and do you really want me to start now?" She winced as she realized the supplies were left behind, raising her commlink she spoke into it. "Lt. The Medical supplies, we can't just leave them behind. We need them. Otherwise next time someone gets shot I'm going to have to use a hammer as sedative." She ducked looked around the corner as more people began running towards them. "I really hate this job sometimes."</s> <\|message\|>Betuu Essbede Betuu was laying waste to backwater scum left and right, finally back in his element. The rouges were nothing like the highly trained clone of his day. The clones were brave and almost worthy of his respect. Bioengineered machines of war. The perfect foil to glory of The Confederacy. These idiots were cowards, cowering behind cover like rats. Betuu was happy to exterminate them. Betuu planted himself behind a civilian speeder and unleashed the fury of his blasters on any fool who rose from cover. "Advise," Betuu suggested over the comms, "the opposing forces here are being reactionary and do not seem to have set up any official plan-of-attack for this engagement. Recommend complete elimination of current ground forces before the arrival of reinforcement. No witnesses. Will allow surviving rebels time to escape off world." ----------- Toland was already at the speeder when alarms began to sound from the spaceport. Looks like someone had woken up from his nap. He grabbed his pistol, which he had snuck into the glove compartment of the stolen ride. This is it, he thought. "We should probably get out of here and meet with the others," Toland thought aloud, but he had a sneaking suspicion that his opinion wasn't worth a credit to them.</s>	<\|message\|>Slooga Besadii Nem'ro "Have Betuu give us approximate location of forces and other pertinent tac data," he told Toland, instantaneously grasping that Betuu wasn't going to lose his cool in reporting everything concisely and accurately where the Lieutenant might be a little busy having his first firefight. It was an intuitive thing on Besk's part, but he knew it was a good gut call. A droid might be limited in devising a plan, but you could always rely on one to provide a pretty accurate kriffing report in a pinch, which would really help them get it together. Behind the wheel of the speeder truck, Besk managed to drive recklessly fast, using the navigation assistance console and the HUD display that advised him that he was breaking the speeding laws -- of course, right now, the locals were probably way more concerned about a firefight than traffic control. As they drew closer to the fighting, Besk used the information from Betuu to position the truck with a good line of escape close to a good ambush point that'd give them a clear pop at the enemy's flanks. It was still taking too long, even at the speeds at which he was moving. In any case, they had limited weapons but could still pull off a hit-and-fade ambush, "This is the plan," he briefed the others quickly, "Infiltrate, hit contacts with grenades, open fire when the frags go off," it had to be fast, and wanted to give the others the gist of the plan there. "Pull back if it's hairy, link with the LT if we can. If not, back to this van and we bug out. Stay alive." The speeder truck, dilapidated as it was, fit well with the grimy industrial backdrop of Ganatoo, and the vehicle itself was inconspicuous. Using the navigational data, he had a good idea of where to park the thing and disembark the passengers, himself included, with a pistol in hand. He had a det on him, and it would be used. They had to finish this business quickly, and that's why he moved quickly, finding the right sort of urban/industrial cover in the form of crates and trash receptacles as he tried to pick a low-visibility approach on the enemy, guided by the sounds of their fire. It was taking just too kriffing long, with Liberators under fire, and Besk wanted to relieve the pressure, but not get killed doing it. They were taking risks, already, by moving the way they were, which was fast enough to draw notice if the bounty hunters had lookouts. It was a calculated risk, hoping that the bounty hunters were unaware of any other operation outside of the spaceport. When they were in place, braced against cover, Besk let the detonator fly, initiating their ambush. He only stopped long enough to note that it wasn't Imperial military, yet, but rather, fringe scum, not infantry. The plan would work even better on them, or worse if they were professional mercs, though he doubted they were due to a lack of sentries -- Bounty hunters tended to focus on the prey and didn't tend to expect actual reinforcement or the targets to fight back like trained military. There was a grouping of them pouring on fire on the Lieutenant and Slooga and the shuttle with a light repeating blaster, and they had a real good field of fire with a weapon that had good range and rate of fire. The detonator went off and that's when the blaster fire came up, gratifyingly on cue, and that's when the bounty hunters started to get confused about where the fire was coming from.</s>
<\|description\|>Slooga Besadii Nem'ro Species: Hutt Age: 452 Planet of Origin/Birth: Nal Hutta Force Sensitive Y/N: No; it's safe to say Slooga isn't very sensitive to much, least of all things that involve kindness, generosity or anything not directly related to preserving his own skin. Appearance:A hutt. Ho-ho-ho-ho. Slooga prefers wide brimmed hats and a cane, because he's an alien space pimp. Description:Prior to a bad deal with Imperial Forces, Slooga Besadii Nem'ro was a crime lord working out of Ord Vetasi, runing a salvage and repair business that was actually a sophisticated ship theft and sales ring, supplying pirates, planetary defense forces looking for a bargain, separatists and others ships. Unwittingly, he also supplied ships to the Rebel Alliance, which is why the Empire finally came for him. He boosted off with what was left of his organization and went into the privateering business for the Rebel Alliance. It turned out that quite a number of pirates and smugglers in his operations had Rebel Sympathies and now he is only nominally in command with underlings to do his will for him if his operations are consistent with helping the Rebellion. He detests getting stuck in this position of having to take a side, but is resolved to make the best lemonade he can out of the lemons. It goes without saying that his pirate crew are not entirely in love with Slooga, but they are using his contacts to help move ships and loot on the black market when the Rebel Alliance isn't buying. There is even less love lost between Slooga and the troopers of 1st Platoon, but they are often roped into his money-making schemes as a result of being stationed on the Intruder. Slooga is, in a sense, a necessary evil and handles the supply and logistic end of the ship's needs, though the troops and pirates alike watch to make sure he's not shafting them in the process. It's worth noting that his one servant is a SE4 servant droid known as SE4I5, or High-Five, who does the cooking for Slooga as well as the various tasks that a slave might do...if all of his hadn't run off when the Empire came along. This impoverishment embitters Slooga, and he dreams longingly of acquiring a new palace once he's profiteered off this war.</s> <\|message\|>Corporal Keller "Bits" Vannin Vannin and his three filled in as rear-guard as the rest of the rebels trickled into the shuttle. He took a position at the foot of the ramp, and squeezed off covering fire for the others as they ran in. Besk's speeder came up the ramp and that looked like it. "We're good!" he shouted. "Headcount!" Sekula shouted. The detail leaders checked over their men and reported back. They were short one light gunner. Someone went to check the head -- Vannin figured you never know with the new guys -- and Byron shouted something along the lines of 'Push off, we can't wait.' How typical. Just then a speeder came flying around a corner and Vannin raised his gun. "That's him!" he shouted. "Hold up!" In hindsight, it might just as easily have been a suicide bomber on one last desperate attempt to kill Slooga, but that thought never occurred to Vannin, who waved the speeder up the ramp frantically. Sure enough, it was one of their new troopers, with a big gun, dead body, and an attitude problem. Vannin was in love. "You got balls, lady," he said. "Fish over there thought you were attacking us. He almost killed you." Ortro Dob raised his fins in protest. He'd done no such thing. Nearby, Hayca rolled her eyes and muttered 'Pathetic.' --------------- "Someone ought to tell that space slug to stop crying, we still have his merchandise and it's loaded. But don't tell him we just found his contact's funds. He doesn't need to know that," Besk told the LT, with a wink, "Full report later." Byron sighed. "We just failed our mission because of him," he said. He made no mention of the unit's losses. "Controlling Slooga in the field is barely even possible, and his men are worse. We can't keep working together like this." He knew from training that he wasn't supposed to vent frustrations like this to enlisted, but the adrenaline was draining away quicker than his anger. Everything should have worked -- the rebels did their job, and they still failed against trash, all because of Slooga's miscalculation. Cost of doing business, probably -- but that wasn't a business that Lt. Byron wanted any part of anymore. "We're going to get back to basics," he decided aloud. "Get me a tally on the supplies and the wounded, see what we can do about those speeders..... We'll debrief on the Intruder." He didn't say it, but he knew already how the conversation with the captain would go. From now on, they were done playing dress-up for Hutts. It was time to point this firepower back where it belonged -- at the imps.</s> <\|message\|>Saleen Re'Revoure Saleen's attention turned over to Corporal Vannin in at the ramp. "After being almost stranded, I would only need a dose of friendly fire to complete my day." Saleen said with a sarcastic voice, turning her helmet to face Ortro. She had never been a fan of aliens, and the Mon Calamari were only too alien for her liking. The notion that he had almost fired at her did not help her opinion of his people any further. Perhaps fortunately for the sake of diplomacy, the actual expression she was currently giving Ortro was hidden under her helmet. "Sorry about the mess... I didn't have time to strap him in." She said as she turned to Vannin, motioning towards the Gran bounty hunter just as the alien slid off the back of the truck and slumped down onto the front of the burning cab which was currently being extinguished by three rebels with extinguishers. The rear of the truck, Saleen, and some of the walls in the shuttle had been covered with alien blood following the bounty hunter's splattering. "I forgot to strap him in." Moving her hands to the sides of her helmet to open the pressure and remove it, she shook her head and let her ponytail fall behind her neck. But as she moved her head, she suddenly noticed a familiar figure from the earlier battle. A twi'lek! " ... ! Wait a moment," Saleen said with a sidetracked voice to Vannin, as she turned to face Ja'vi in the shuttle. Marching up to the twi'lek with her helmet under her left arm, she stopped right behind Ja'vi. Waiting for twi'lek to turn around, Saleen raised a hand and slapped Ja'vi right in the cheek just as the twi'lek turned around, almost knocking her to the ground. "WHAT were you thinking leaving me behind?!" Saleen suddenly shouted out, whatever peaceful charade her face had ever hosted having long since been abated as she pointed accusingly down at the shorter twi'lek. "Your stupid tentacle head could have gotten me killed or captured!"</s> <\|message\|>Ja'vi Harkan Ja'vi - A Minor Altercation She stood silently to the side as the Rebel leaders began to take accountability, only to stand even further back once there was the sound of uproarious chaos behind them. Recklessly charging up the ramp in a hijacked Speeder was none other than the heavy gunner that had almost shot her! She remained nonplussed as the craft crashed into the hangar where they all stood, and stood even further back as the Rebels hurried in to douse the flames. Her further assistance wasn't needed, it seemed. All were accounted for, all were prepared to continue onward and care for the wounded and lost. Though the gruesome display of the dead and bloodied bounty hunter was at least slightly amusing. With the mission complete and gone as far as it could, she lightly plucked up her own helmet from the vehicle she had disembarked from and turned instead to head back towards her quarters to restart the meditation that had been interrupted. Her intention had been one that was peaceful and easygoing as usual. Yet the marching of heavily laden footsteps drawing closer forced her to turn about to see none other than the very same angry gunner that had crashed into the ship. Not only that, but her hand was drawn back in anger, fury and rage that she could sense and understand, but why? What purpose did it hold? It was a movement that she could easily avoid, but to what end would that meet? More likely than not, her avoidance would only cause such enraged fervor to increase in the face of dissatisfaction. More destruction would likely be wrought, and she refused to be the fault of it. So the Twi'lek accepted the strike. Closing her eyes as it drew nearer and sent her spinning into a nearby wall. Her world whirled about her as she regained her equilibrium, and slowly stood back up normally. Insults were slung, but she didn't respond to them. Bearing a sense of defiance, she looked eye to eye with the flamboyantly armored gunner for along moment as venomous words were slung towards her ears. In response, Ja'vi said nothing. Instead she only turned about on her heels while she wiped away a thin trickle of blood that crept from the corner of her lip. There was certainly pain, she accepted it, knowing all too well that her body's way of telling her that there was an injury. Yet in her mind it was not worth going to the medical ward over, as there were wounded pouring in there. A minor issue like hers was not one worth busying over. Instead, she silently into another room and resumed her meditation. This focus would bring her mind off the pain and agony, and instead upon the extent that she could grasp the force. It was very little, and she needed to truly be able to understand its depths before she ran into greater dangers. Darkness was out there, and she knew it all too well. Imperial or Rebellion, it mattered not.</s>	<\|message\|>Slooga Besadii Nem'ro Besk shrugged, "Yeah, well, after this cockup by Intel, I think we're done trying to establish contact with Slooga's old buddies. They're too likely to turn." He also knew, by dint of sleeping with an Intruder officer, not that it was precisely regs compliant, but also that the Lieutenant didn't necessarily know about that -- yet -- that the Intruder crew were actually in the Rebellion, much as they were former pirates and used to work for Slooga, the Empire had killed a couple of their crew, who were part of a family clan of sorts from their planet, Invikon, a shady Outer Rim shithole with strange clan practices that translated to a lot of the Intruder crew being relatives, though they still had a couple outsiders in their ranks much like the Liberators. Point was, they were only sort of Slooga's employees anymore, and the fiction was maintained only because Slooga didn't try to push it and because they figured taking Slooga in would piss off the Empire. There was a rumble under foot as the shuttle kicked in the thrusters and lifted off, and it was second nature for Besk to grab a handhold on the bulkhead and steady himself on his feet as the shuttle lifted. Thirty seconds of combat, then heavy lifting and running around, and they were drenched in sweat. But, they had a truck full of loot. The return to the Intruder was without much fanfare, because 1st Platoon hauled in its own, zipped up in the bags that were, perhaps morbidly so, stored on the transport for just an event. No one wanted to look at their dead friends, so they got them zipped in quickly after stripping useful equipment off them. They'd be properly handled at Vanguard, where there was a memorial of sorts for the dead followed by a general agreement to get good and plastered off whatever there was available for the purpose. In the meantime, the living, once they stacked the dead into their own small compartment, out of everyone's sightline, there was work to be done of another sort; between Sola, who seemed to be at times broodingly distant and then aggressively affectionate, and the duty that everyone either assigned to themselves or got assigned by an NCO, which in his case involved checking the weapons they acquired as well as repairing anything that could be repaired, and whatever else struck his fancy as the armory officer. When he slept, which was to say in the Gunnery Officer's bunkroom, HK-51 was set to guard the weapons locker, which he did, according to reports, disturbingly. "Report: Meatbags approached the weapons locker thirty seven times while I was on alert, and I warned each one to keep their distance." "You don't have to warn them unless they try to access it." "Query: How would you define 'access' master? I simply wish to warn all meatbags that attempts to access the weapons locker I am assigned to guard like a mere sentry droid will be disintegrated with great pleasure." The droid had picked a disintegrator rifle as its weapon of choice; it wasn't reassuring. "Simply stop them if they try to actually get into the locker by physically opening the door. Otherwise, you do not need to challenge everyone that passes by the Weapons Locker -- there's a head near it, that's why so many troopers pass, HK-51." "Statement: Of course, Master. While you are assigning more parameters to a task that mocks my advanced positronic brain, would there be any other indignities you would like to inflict upon me?" "Not at this time." "Statement: Very well master, I am forced by programming to obey your wishes, however much I feel that your kind ways are a tremendous mistake and would prefer to make an example of at least one meatbag that comes too close to the weapons locker. Perhaps I could activate my assassination protocols on the hutt? My calculations predict that elimination of that particularly loathsome, squishy meatbag would extend the ship's consumables store by an extra three months..." Out of the pile of bounty hunter weaponry, Besk picked a SoroSuub firelance blaster rifle, a bullpup weapon favored by bounty hunters that was well-represented among their opponents at Ganatoo, and started modifying it with accessories. When he modified one, then he started working on the others, adding mounts for optics and other useful items that the typical Rebel infantry, who favored accuracy in most things, favored on their blasters. It helped pass the time, along with the speeder truck -- that was being broken down by several people, the engine souped up and the thing stripped down to a bare chassis and then rebuilt with armor plating and two mounted repeating blasters -- one in the truck bed, the other in an open turret on the passenger side. Open-topped now, it allowed troopers to quickly mount and dismount, but could also function as a cargo vehicle or a way to get wounded to a shuttle fast. It also gave people something to do. Meanwhile, Vanguard liberty loomed, and Besk was half-waiting and half-dreading it; they'd get to blow off steam, but they had to say a final goodbye to friends and then take on a new batch of recruits. It got easier, but the unease in the soul never quite went away,</s>
<\|description\|>Slooga Besadii Nem'ro Species: Hutt Age: 452 Planet of Origin/Birth: Nal Hutta Force Sensitive Y/N: No; it's safe to say Slooga isn't very sensitive to much, least of all things that involve kindness, generosity or anything not directly related to preserving his own skin. Appearance:A hutt. Ho-ho-ho-ho. Slooga prefers wide brimmed hats and a cane, because he's an alien space pimp. Description:Prior to a bad deal with Imperial Forces, Slooga Besadii Nem'ro was a crime lord working out of Ord Vetasi, runing a salvage and repair business that was actually a sophisticated ship theft and sales ring, supplying pirates, planetary defense forces looking for a bargain, separatists and others ships. Unwittingly, he also supplied ships to the Rebel Alliance, which is why the Empire finally came for him. He boosted off with what was left of his organization and went into the privateering business for the Rebel Alliance. It turned out that quite a number of pirates and smugglers in his operations had Rebel Sympathies and now he is only nominally in command with underlings to do his will for him if his operations are consistent with helping the Rebellion. He detests getting stuck in this position of having to take a side, but is resolved to make the best lemonade he can out of the lemons. It goes without saying that his pirate crew are not entirely in love with Slooga, but they are using his contacts to help move ships and loot on the black market when the Rebel Alliance isn't buying. There is even less love lost between Slooga and the troopers of 1st Platoon, but they are often roped into his money-making schemes as a result of being stationed on the Intruder. Slooga is, in a sense, a necessary evil and handles the supply and logistic end of the ship's needs, though the troops and pirates alike watch to make sure he's not shafting them in the process. It's worth noting that his one servant is a SE4 servant droid known as SE4I5, or High-Five, who does the cooking for Slooga as well as the various tasks that a slave might do...if all of his hadn't run off when the Empire came along. This impoverishment embitters Slooga, and he dreams longingly of acquiring a new palace once he's profiteered off this war.</s> <\|message\|>Saleen Re'Revoure Having the shower area for herself while most of the rebels were busy assisting with the shuttle in the hangar was quite a relief. Stripping out of her tight jumpsuit, she'd swiftly move over to the nearest four shower heads, focusing them all on herself and turning them on. Having the warm water splash down on her from every direction was a wonderful sensation, especially when she did not have to share any of them with the rest of the crew. However, her sole occupation of the shower area would soon be intruded upon by a familiar twi'lek that just entered the shower area. Although Saleen pretended she did not notice her at first, she kept a constant eye on Ja'vi as the mute Twi'lek went over to find her own shower head. "Great, you just ruined my perfect moment!" "Hey, twi'lek!" Saleen would eventually shout across the shower room towards Ja'vi, while holding up a bottle. "Need some shampoo? I could barrow you mine if you wanted... " " ... " " ... ohh wait, I completely forgot, you don't even have hair in the first place. I don't know if I have a cure for tentacles." Saleen snickered from across the showers, though the twi'lek didn't seem to respond to her, let alone even notice her presence. It actually looked like Ja'vi was literally meditating in the showers, something that made Saleen raise a brow at the odd scene. "Weirdo.. " This did not make the human any less suspicious however. She had read enough imperial galactic news reports, and she knew that it was always the quiet guy who was responsible for any sudden massacres aboard vessels! As Ja'vi left the showers, Saleen also headed towards her own locker. Although she normally preferred to shower for up to half an hour at a time, right now, she was more curious about what the mute twi'lek was up to. Wrapping a towel around her torso and slinging her jumpsuit over her shoulder, she'd secretly sneak out of the showers after Ja'vi. Walking in a seemingly nonchalantly manner a couple of meters behind her as she stalked the twi'lek to her room, Saleen would approach the door to her private quarters. But as she was about to reach up to the panel besides the door, she suddenly paused. "Wait, what will I say if it turns out she isn't up to something?" Saleen pondered on the thought for a moment, eventually deciding that her excuse for entering the twi'lek's room would be that she was looking for the commander. It was a good enough explanation, at least in her mind! Without any further delay, she'd press the button to on the panel, causing the doors to Ja'vi's room to open. "Hey! Mutee! Do you know where I can find... " Saleen proclaimed her question out loudly as she marched into Ja'vi's room, before suddenly noticing the hovering objects just before they immediately dropped to the ground. " ... wait, what was that?"</s> <\|message\|>Ja'vi Harkan Ja'vi - Not-Quite-Pleasantries Do not be unsettled, maintain your focus. Slowly, the carefully precise movements of the variable parts and pieces that hovered around the Twi'lek began to snap back into place. Cautious, exact movements that required the entirety of her attention as it became constructed in the air in front of her. Once the last item had clicked into its proper position, the completed Training Saber twirled in the air in front of her as her hand brushed past it, causing it to turn slower as she inspected it. Other than the blasted lack of a crystal...she could likely get a fully functional true Lightsaber from the majority of the parts that remained, in combination with a few other pieces that she needed. Even as a child she had done her best to keep it in pristine condition. A few things were needed surely, but the most critical part of a Saber's core was what she truly lacked. She needed to find a way to get a new proper crystal soon, desperately in fact. Yet so focused as she on her task that she didn't notice that there was someone at her door before it was far too late. Just as Saleen intruded upon her private quarters, the fully constructed Training Saber fell back to the earth and Ja'vi deftly snatched it out of midair. Tucking it inside the loose-fitting clothes she wore when not armored up like normal, she looked up to see who her intruder was from where she knelt. Not good...of all the people! Why this one!? Must it always be the loud ones?! Swiftly, Ja'vi's hand shot out and snatched the heavy gunner's fingertips to drag her into the room quickly and force the door to snap shut. There, she fluidly rose to a stand, but there were no other movements of aggression made by the Force Sensitive. Instead the Twi'lek stood rather gravely still, staring intensely at the woman. What was she supposed to do? Lashing out and striking would create a further distraction that she needn't have. Going unnoticed would have been preferable, but now this accursed mercenary had gone and made that all but impossible! To make matters worse, this woman answered only to the principles of money and greed more likely than not! At least the rebels might have been more trustworthy with their idealism, but no! She had to find her instead! Her hands clenched into fists, and her jaw became set. There was only the truth, that was all she could do here. How this woman reacted would dictate how she further handled the situation for now. "I-I...I am a former Youngling Jedi." Ja'vi admitted quietly in the isolation of their room. Her voice, melancholic but beautiful all the same, continued to talk in a hushed tone. "I have no Master who teaches me, the Knight who was supposed to be such was killed during the Purge. So I am learning as best I can on my own in the ways of the Force. I could not do it under the watchful paranoia of the Empire, so I am doing what I can beneath the not-so-watchful eyes of the Rebellion." Looking up to Saleen, the Twi'lek did her best to appeal to the woman. "Please, you cannot tell a soul! There are those who despise my kind, I cannot be found nor seen for what I truly am!"</s> <\|message\|>Saleen Re'Revoure "A jedi?" Saleen said as she cocked her head slightly to the side, taking a moment to simply stare at the twi'lek. Although Ja'vi had originally met her with a sudden and harsh glare that was most unusual for the normally stoic alien, she now looked to be literally pleading with her eyes. Her eyes had grown almost to resemble that of puppy eyes, and Saleen felt that she was dangerously close to almost feeling genuine sympathy for the twi'lek! "Please, you cannot tell a soul!" Saleen gazed back at Ja'vi, whilst moving a hand up to rub her jaw as she contemplated the matter. "Well, at least I finally got her to talk!" She was not unfamiliar with the concept of jedi. Indeed, she had seen them in countless movies and video games back on her time during Coruscant, and even seen some on the street. That was at least until the new government had stepped in, and orchestrated something not far off from a holocaust against their order. She had never actually met a jedi face to face. The idea that she was now talking to one was both cool, and at the same time, a little worrisome! Jedi were known for their dangerous lightsabers capable of slicing through any material, as well as wicked mind powers with which they could wreathe unfathomable destruction. "Maaaaaybe I shouldn't be standing so close to this one! I mean, if she should turn hostile... !" "I am going to assume that the thing you're trying to hide from me was a lightsaber, wasn't it?" Saleen asked with a slight smirk on her face as she gently nodded towards the twi'lek's clothes where she had last seen the cylindrical device. Tossing the door behind her a quick glance to see if it was shut, Saleen would look back at the twi'lek with a small smile. "Can I see it?"</s>	<\|message\|>Slooga Besadii Nem'ro Captain (Navy) Probos Hud was the new G-3 for Vanguard, replacing his rather more complacent predecessor after the latter's relief, and the sectors it operated out of, which was roughly the region between Ziost and Jabiim, with a broad mandate to disrupt whatever he could with the limited forces available to his command. The most important element of that mandate was to do whatever it took to prevent Mon Calamari, the planet that provided the Alliance's best shipyards, from direct attack or at least to make the theoretical supply lines for such an attack look too daunting to undertake. So he wasn't impressed when a Captain (Army) Ornestes of Alliance Intelligence was briefing him on a botched mission involving one of his ships having to cut and run real fast from a Victory-class star destroyer that lay in waiting -- his forces, to the mind of the Duros, were supposed to be the ones with the element of surprise. "Captain, I will make this clear," Hud told him in the straightforward way the Duros tended to have, the confidence of being one of the first starfaring races, "My predecessor was slack and sat on his ass and was happy to detach forces to your operations. I am not. I need every swinging tentacle in my command to carry out -my- operations. Also, that Ganatoo station mission was a wash on all fronts -- it was only because one Lieutenant Byron sent out a separate team to tap the traffic control at the same time that they were running this funny Hutt deal, acting like a palace guard for a washed-up crime lord, that my forces managed to discover the threat and got out." "Be that as it may," Ornestes started. "Please sit, Captain," Hud ordered/requested, "And allow me to explain the facts of life." Ornestes, who was something like three grades beneath a Navy captain, did so. It was hard to read Duros expressions, at least for a human, because they were blue-faced, golden-eyed and had no noses. It took a person experienced with their expressions to really read them. All the same, they were not some provincial species -- the Duros were far-flung, with colonies all over the galaxy, and their homeworld in the core. They often acted like they invented the hyperdrive, and certainly loved to make use of it. "All Intelligence requests for my forces will be routed through me. The plans will be submitted to me. They will be vetted by myself and my staff before the forces you require are given their orders. I agree that uploading virii into the Imperial traffic control computers is a useful mission and will put my chop on it when I see an appropriate plan. By 'appropriate' I mean any plan that does not involve that Hutt." "But sir, Slooga..." "Is washed up and has a price on his head big enough for his former contacts to turn on him. He's not really a powerful Hutt Lord anymore. I am reliably informed that his ship is in the alliance with or without him. For the sake of appearances, we'll keep Slooga because he might be useful in the future, but have no illusions, Captain, we are not here to facilitate his grandiose plans of a return to glory. We're here to fight the Empire." "Yes sir," Ornestes said, somewhat stiffly, "I understand." "Good, now I'd like to turn your attention," he hit a button and the room darkened and a holodisplay came up, "to this; Operation Bantha Poacher." The Intruder, a squadron of Y-Wings, Buccaneer squadron, and, of course, 1st Platoon in the vanguard...</s>
<\|description\|>Tadia Omi-Ren "Doc" "What've we got this time?" Species: Human, Corellian Age: 28 Planet of Origin/Birth: Corellia Force Sensitive Y/N: Unknown, some claim she is however she's never played stock to such rumours. Skills/Abilities:- Basic Blaster Training - Charismatic - Tactical Thinker (Sabaac Player) - Medical training Equipment:- A280 Blaster Rifle - 1x DC17 blaster pistol, set to stun - 1x MD Droid (Stays aboard the Intruder) - Field medic kit - Psychological Profile:Tadia has a simple past, a compassionate and caring soul who has the problem of having seen conflict war and death. Which has closed her off somewhat from other people, when she doesn't notice people are watching she will often zone out looking into the distance reminicing however when it comes to the grind and when she is needed she is fully focused at getting the job done. It isn't known the exact moment she officially joined the rebellion however she's been with the Liberators since they left Uslam but few alive know some of the horrors she saw during the evacuation. History: She was always compassionate and caring, having a drive to help people. After she left secondary she entered the medical traid heading to university to become a Doctor. Specialising in surgery and life saving techniques she also self studied minor practices so that she could perform more all around duties as necessary. She passed with her doctorate, nothing special however she got her honours and her full doctorate. Which is where things began to change. She took a job on the mining world of Uslam, as a general practitioner. It was here that she saw the squalor and the poor living conditions the miners lived in. When push came to shove and conflict arose she did what she could to help the rebels. Not reporting blaster wounds and healing them up, and when it turned out into an all out war she dropped the front and moved herself from rebel cell to rebel cell helping out wherever necessary. Then the Imperials cracked down on the planet. She was in one of the last evacuation ships, and the only medic on it with a majority of wounded. It's unclear what exactly happened to the ship however when it finally made it to the rendevouz not even the recovery crew will mention what they saw aboard the ship. Tadia herself was never quite the same, still cocky and charismatic but something about her smile never quite reached her eyes and she seemed more distant. The rookies never noticing but the veterans did. Yes, and:She's less caring than many others about the Intruders pirate past but isn't really close with anyone from the crew. She does feel however that she is close friends with Serossa, Beskad and Kellar being older members of the liberators and almost sees Uslam and it's people her true family. She has also been one of the few liberators to be kind to Thanner Antares as far as she sees it it isn't his past that defines him, but the path he is on now that does.</s> <\|message\|>Thanner Antares Thanner stood among the regiment's new recruits, and could not help but turn up his nose at the stench of cheap liquor in the air. He knew that the regiment's soldiers considered themselves to be separate from the pirate crew aboard the Intruder, but he found it difficult to make that distinction himself. As he glanced across the room at the veterans of the unit, the likely source of the foul odor, he noticed one of the soldiers pointing a finger at him and muttering about. Thanner smirked and turned away, undoubtedly projecting a foulness of his own. It was the stench of arrogance. Of elitism. A stench not so easily washed away. In his short time with the Rebellion Thanner had become privy to such accusatory gestures and mutterings, and he had become exceedingly adept at shrugging them off. Perhaps too adept. Thanner refocused his attention as the new Lieutenant spoke. "My name is Lieutenant Durod Byron. I understand you folks have been holding your own out here for some time, and Fleet Command is real happy about the way you boy... you folks do work." "Not a great start," Thanner thought to himself, glancing around again at the rugged folks in his midst. "Now we're here to fill in some gaps, and help you keep doing what you do best. I know this can be a little awkward, and hopefully we'll get used to each other pretty quick, but in the meantime I just want you all to know that I'm not here to change the way you fellas do business. I'm gonna do my best to stay out of your hair, and together we'll get the JOB done, your way. So. Take a few minutes and get acquainted. The new guys brought a little extra gear, feel free to help them square it away, and we'll meet up in the briefing room in two hours. Got a hot new target in mind, should be a good hit." To say that things would be a little awkward was surely an understatement, but Thanner was confident that he would soon be able to smooth things over. He had been in tough spots before, but he had always been able to talk his way out of a situation. In truth, his tongue had saved him more times than he could count, and it was what allowed him to excel as an agent of the Empire. Thanner had much less confidence however, in the Lieutenant's ability to lead. Thanner knew that, above all, these gruff military-types responded to authority and detested weakness. After what these men had been through, they had no place for weakness. Lieutenant Byron possessed authority on paper, but he oozed weakness through every orifice, and Thanner knew that the veterans would detect this as surely as he detected their disgusting aroma. He wondered how long the Lieutenant could survive in this environment. After the Lieutenant finished his address, Thanner made his way across the hangar, deliberately walking past the same soldier that had been unsubtlety gesturing in his direction previously. "Guess he doesn't want us punching the new guys just yet, huh," he heard the soldier say. "I should certainly hope not," Thanner replied casually, "For your sake." Turning his back to the soldier, Thanner carried on. He saw the Lieutenant whispering something to a woman before exiting the hangar, and he managed to catch the woman's eye with his own piercing gaze. He strode over to the woman and extended his hand, ensuring that the display was seen by the soldier he had mocked. "Sergeant Sekula I presume? My name is Antares...Thanner Antares."</s> <\|message\|>Tadia Omi-Ren "Doc" Tadia sighed at the response of the droid. Saying she was threatening, out of everyone in the room she was by far the least likely to do anything harmful towards him than any of the other veterans. She rolled her eyes as she sent it away. "You may regret doing that later, Beskad won't be happy with a puppy dog following him around calling him master." She paused for a second. "Or he might, however in the case that he doesn't your secrets safe with me." She briefly returned the salute, feeling stupid as she did so. "Also relax, I'm just a lance corporal-" She offered her hand. "Tadia, though most call me Doc. As you can tell I'm the Doctor slash medic. Well I do a lot of medic work but I got my doctorate and one of the few of us who has so... yeah just stick to Doc or Tadia." She took out her datapad and brought up an image of a IM-6 medical droid. "I'm having some problems with the droid in the med-bay. His repulsors are shot, as is his diagnostic equipment so I'm needing to tell him what needs to be done and oversee everything he does to make sure that he doesn't do more harm than good. It's becoming a bit of an inconvienance." She shrugged as she clipped her datapad back to her waist. "Can you fix it?"</s> <\|message\|>Toland Vas Toland gratefully took Tadia's hand and shook. "Well first, sorry to bring this up but most IM-6 models were manufactured with feminine programming," Toland replied, "but yeah, this is like a half an hour fix tops. IM-6s may of been top class back in their day, but Cybot Galactica shit the bed manufacturing those girls for longvity. Fixing the repulsors will just take a little calibrating. She will probably have trouble the first few days, but after a week she will be zooming around like she found a chem stash." Toland stopped for a second and scratched his chin. "Her equipment might need some tinkering. It's a problem I'd have too look at first hand. What kind of equipment is she packing? I'm only coming up with blanks right now." Toland looked behind her for a second, noticing that the veterans had turned their interest from Betuu to him. "So," he brought up abruptly, "how long do you think I have to live out here?"</s> <\|message\|>Corporal Jenk Beskad "Hopefully, long enough," he replied to Toland's survival question "I'm Corporal Beskad, the platoon armorer. All you new arrivals need to see me so we can do a weapons function check," he said casually, "so we can make sure nothing goes 'click' when we need it to go 'pow.'" There was a second reason he wanted to check people's weapons out, and that was to casually assess their skills at marksmanship. As the Alliance had diverse sources of training, it was important to find out what the new guys knew and what they didn't, and Besk felt that a 'function check' was a nicer way of doing that than telling them outright that they were going to have to qualify for marksmanship under his eye. Also, it was real -- the Alliance had multiple sources of blasters, and that meant having to inspect the weapons. "Also, I notice that both the droids are combat models, so I'd like to see if we can start putting them on sentry duty over the weapons locker. The crew of the Intruder," and he said this without batting an eyelash even though he was shagging the gunnery officer and every one of the veterans knew it, "are not what we'd call entirely trustworthy and we have a Hutt on board. Security for our weaponry and explosives is a must." It meant they could free up more duty time by putting a droid on it for other jobs, so Besk was jumping right on that opportunity. But as he spoke of 'untrustworthy' his eyes tracked Thanner; he wasn't going to say it where the Lieutenant could hear it, but there was a reason he wanted a droid on weapons locker detail -- they had an Imperial agent on board and he didn't like that any more than his comrades. He actually felt a little naked without firepower strapped to his hip in the form of a pistol or something similar.</s> <\|message\|>Toland Vas "Yes sir," Toland replied. "No need to worry about Betuu here. His security subroutines are some of the best the old Seps could offer. Also, he is the type of guy to go pow-pow, or pow-pow-pow, sir." Toland looked back to the HK-51 unit, who was still probably scanning the room to fulfill his new objective. "Honesty sir, you can keep the brown one. Very clingy bot, but from what info I have it seems to be some kind of old assassin protocol droid. Favorited thousands of years ago. He might need a little weapons calibration, but he should be ship-shape for use. Nobody is getting at your guns with him around." Betuu butted into the conversation, spamming beeps and boops like there was no tomorrow. "What have I told you about not insulting people in Droid Speak," Toland replied. "'It is not cool,'" the droid replied in basic.</s> <\|message\|>Slooga Besadii Nem'ro "No need to sir me, I work for my living. Just do me a favor and make sure the droids get over to the armory and do some weapons calibration tests to make sure their blasters are functioning properly, and bring your personal weaponry along as well. I want to shake everyone's equipment down before the next drop, whatever it is. Then we can talk about putting the droids on sentry duty. I like the idea of having droids that shoot to kill on the locker, given our situation in here." He meant Thanner as much as Slooga or the pirates; the Hutt was no doubt salivating, ugly mental image, at the idea of some sort of Imperial Intelligence agent in the ship. Besk wasn't going to take a chance with those two on board. Heck, Slooga had a price on his head from the Empire too, and hopefully the Sarge was canny enough to remind the old slug of that. It frustrated Besk a bit that they had no idea what the next op was, though they'd know in an hour, which was enough time to wash up a bit more and try to get the pounding out from behind his eyes. The Lieutenant could have given them a hint of what they were doing, but Besk took it all in stride -- for the most part, they were a pirate ship's unusually disciplined boarding force. The Intruder's crew were old hands at raiding commerce and the Liberators had experienced guerrilas and miners in their ranks that knew how to fight in tight quarters. The truth was, the training on Uslam for conversion from guerrilla to line infantry was tough, but it made them more versatile. They just hadn't been called on those skills yet in any substantial way. The Rebellion just wasn't fighting open pitched battles with an Empire that could overwhelm them at any given point. The strategy was to hit fast and make them constantly react. But when the Empire showed up in force, the Alliance went to ground and just gathered the intel on the movements. Wash, rinse, repeat.</s>	<\|message\|>Tadia Omi-Ren "Doc" "I should point out that she is a he. Voice and programming." She cast her arms around indicating at the group. "This unit doesn't fit into any standardisation, nor does it equipment." Beskad walked over basically confirming her previous statement. "Besk, meet my new buddy. New Buddy meet Besk." She slapped him on the arm, somewhat playfully. "He's always so serious, forgets that not everything is about fighting and bloodshed." Her face adpted a wishful look. "When what we're fighting for is going to be so much more..." She laughed. "Anyway if you drop by the medbay at some point I am usually there, I tend to sleep on a spare bed rather than in my quarters. It's just down the hall, can't miss it. Just follow the screams of pain, the crying and the smell of blood and filth." She gave him a smirk. "Also don't worry about the Vets, they're as close as family-" she turned to Beskad "Aren't you Uncle Besky?" She laughed. "Anyway they've been through a lot together, and the best way to deal with that is making light off it. If you stick around, mingle. Prove your worth you'll be part of the family in no time and if it comes to it there's always something you can do around here." She turned and walked away, turning again to face him as she walked backwards, extending her arms shouting slightly. "And welcome aboard the Intruder, finest ship in the Navy!" There were a couple of laughs at that as she walked away. She stopped beside the Sarge. "How's the latest scar looking?"</s>
<\|description\|>Tadia Omi-Ren "Doc" "What've we got this time?" Species: Human, Corellian Age: 28 Planet of Origin/Birth: Corellia Force Sensitive Y/N: Unknown, some claim she is however she's never played stock to such rumours. Skills/Abilities:- Basic Blaster Training - Charismatic - Tactical Thinker (Sabaac Player) - Medical training Equipment:- A280 Blaster Rifle - 1x DC17 blaster pistol, set to stun - 1x MD Droid (Stays aboard the Intruder) - Field medic kit - Psychological Profile:Tadia has a simple past, a compassionate and caring soul who has the problem of having seen conflict war and death. Which has closed her off somewhat from other people, when she doesn't notice people are watching she will often zone out looking into the distance reminicing however when it comes to the grind and when she is needed she is fully focused at getting the job done. It isn't known the exact moment she officially joined the rebellion however she's been with the Liberators since they left Uslam but few alive know some of the horrors she saw during the evacuation. History: She was always compassionate and caring, having a drive to help people. After she left secondary she entered the medical traid heading to university to become a Doctor. Specialising in surgery and life saving techniques she also self studied minor practices so that she could perform more all around duties as necessary. She passed with her doctorate, nothing special however she got her honours and her full doctorate. Which is where things began to change. She took a job on the mining world of Uslam, as a general practitioner. It was here that she saw the squalor and the poor living conditions the miners lived in. When push came to shove and conflict arose she did what she could to help the rebels. Not reporting blaster wounds and healing them up, and when it turned out into an all out war she dropped the front and moved herself from rebel cell to rebel cell helping out wherever necessary. Then the Imperials cracked down on the planet. She was in one of the last evacuation ships, and the only medic on it with a majority of wounded. It's unclear what exactly happened to the ship however when it finally made it to the rendevouz not even the recovery crew will mention what they saw aboard the ship. Tadia herself was never quite the same, still cocky and charismatic but something about her smile never quite reached her eyes and she seemed more distant. The rookies never noticing but the veterans did. Yes, and:She's less caring than many others about the Intruders pirate past but isn't really close with anyone from the crew. She does feel however that she is close friends with Serossa, Beskad and Kellar being older members of the liberators and almost sees Uslam and it's people her true family. She has also been one of the few liberators to be kind to Thanner Antares as far as she sees it it isn't his past that defines him, but the path he is on now that does.</s> <\|message\|>Sergeant Serossa Sekula Serossa Sekula set her eyes on the Replacement that approached her, and offered his hand. He had her attention. She listened to his introduction...and then she turned her attention away from him, to the entire room. Without skipping a beat Sekula spoke up with a loud bark that emphasised the typically understated husky nature in the NCO's voice. "LIBERATORS; Corporals conduct a muster, and get me a list of everyone." If she had to go chase some Replacement out of a rack, now was the time. Or, rather, if she had to send a Corporal to go chase some Replacement out of a rack. Only then did her head turn back to the Replacement in front of her, and the hint of a smile come to her lips. A hint of a tease. "No, I'm the other six foot blonde that tells all of you what to do." Only then did she take his hand with her right hand and offer a quick shake, a thin line of scarred bright red flesh cutting across just above every knuckle on her hand but her thumb. "How can I help you?"</s> <\|message\|>Thanner Antares "Sergeant Sekula I presume? My name is Antares...Thanner Antares." Thanner extended his hand, as the Sergeant wheeled around to address the room. He couldn't help but laugh, as he has just employed the same social tactic against the gesturing soldier only moments earlier. It was typical posturing. Sekula turned to face him once more, this time acknowledging the agent's offer and shaking his hand, albeit briefly. "How can I help you?" asked the Sergeant. He heard the question clearly, but deliberately paused for a moment as he took notice of the scar on Sekula's hand. He knew he would be able to use it to his advantage, at the proper moment. "I'm not sure you can help me Sergeant," said Thanner, choosing each word very carefully, "A former Imperial in the midst of this rabble, whatever is a man to do." The skeptical undertone in Thanner's statement was quite deliberate. In truth, he was confident in Sekula's ability as a leader, which was far more than he could say for Lieutenant Byron, and he was intent on winning the Sergeant over as an ally by challenging her in this way. She was a woman that had thrived in a man's world, a feat that required true strength of character. He admired her resolve greatly and knew she would be a valuable asset to him during his time in the regiment. Thanner took Sekula's injured hand gently, running his thumb across her scarred knuckles in a a shrewd and calculated way, flashing a smile as he did so. "I'm sure there must be a story to go along with it?" Thanner said quietly, "You certainly seem like a woman with a few tales to tell."</s> <\|message\|>Specialist Hayca Carid Hayca smirked at Keller. "He said that we were going to keep doing stuff our way, didnt he?" She chuckled as she looked over Keller's picks and nodded. "Seems like a fair bet to me. But remember, no cheating. If one of our picks gets 'accidentily' blown into space by a friendly thermal detonator then it doesnt count, alright?" The Imperial Keller placed his bet on thought that it was a good idea to antagonise him by responding with a not so subtle threat. He then walked off to Sekula. Hayca placed a hand on Keller's shoulder and her smile disappeared. "Although I guess we could make an exception for once." Right at that moment the SBD which had been standing there for a while started moving to the shooting range and guess who stood in it's way. The droid forced its way past both Keller and Hayca. "Aargh! Watch where you're going you useless bucket of bolts!" Who ever programmed that droid should have maybe programmed some manners into that thing. But, atleast it got her mind of the Imperial. She looked over at Keller. "How about we observe some of the rookies at the firing range? Might be able to annoy little old Besky abit aswell, you think he has finally been able to requisition that Z-6 I've been begging for?" She said with a grin. She didnt wait for his reply as she was already walking towards the firing range. On her way out she passed the sarge, to whom she gave a nod, and the Imperial. She was very tempted to give him a shove but decided not to, since he was talking to the sarge. Once she got the the firing range the SBD was already tearing through the targets. She walked up to Beskad and interupted what he was doing by ruffeling his hair. "Hey Besk, what are you doing? Something to do with tech or explosives... or both?"</s> <\|message\|>Betuu Essbede "Roger roger," Betuu replied to the Corperal as he cocked his arm back inwords. "I will retrieve Priavte Vas' equipment for inspection. Do you require his presence?" Before the battle droid could get a response, one of the verterans stumbled into the armory with alchohl still tainting his breath. "Hey!," the soldier shouted, "there's that stupid fucking droid that pushed me! Stupid Seperatist shit pushed me!" The veteran looked over to the captain and pointed at Betuu. "Corperal! That fucking droid pushed me! Why are we letting goddamn death bots push people!" Betuu just stood quietly, waiting for his inquiry to be satisfied. --------- Toland wasn't far behind Tadia as he noticed the Sarge and another recruit like himself. He had heard small rumors surrounding the guy, how he was a former Imerial and heels bring down Uslam. Toland didn't have any love for Uslam personally, but could understand the outrage. "Hey," Toland greeted as he stepped up to Tadia. "You want to show me your droid? Betuu probably has my gear by now and has all of that settled. Better for me to do something useful then show off my nonexistent marksman skills."</s> <\|message\|>Tadia Omi-Ren "Doc" Tadia shrugged as the Imperial came over - small ship, big mouths - and began speaking to the Sgt, before rubbing her scars. "You better have clean hands, if that gets infected it's on you. Also if your fingers get broken, your fault too." With that Toland came over and spoke to her about the droid. She just sighed. "You know, you're going to need to gather some form of marksmanship skills sooner or later. Even I can shoot a gun, and hit something." A couple of the veterans stopped on the way passed giving her looks. "I can hit stuff most of that time." They continued giving the look. "Do you want medical treatment in the future?" With that they walked off. She turned her attention back to Toland. "What did I tell you? One big happy family. Full of some absolute-" The new Lieutenant walked past "-amazing people." She winked at Toland. "Come with me I'll show you Iggy. Don't ask me how he got the name I got him with it, I just kinda rolled with it." She turned signalling down the hall in a Move out! gesture before walking out of the hanger. The ship was in... various states of disrepair. A couple of the panels were original though a large portion of them seemed to have been replaced to either take the place of damaged ones or to fit in some form of upgrade to the ship. Even in her pirate days a lot of work had been done to the ship, so they were told. She walked into the med-bay, like all med-bays it was largely white and sterile with a couple of stains here and there. Four beds lay side by side, two of them occupied and there was space for a bacta tank at either end of the room as well as what would be presumed as a door into surgery. Plants littered most of the free spaces in order to try and create a nice smell, however you could still smell the oil and hydrulic smell that inhabited most of the ship. As they entered a small droid tried to hover off one of the beds, falling ot the floor and almost scraping along the floor in their general direction. "Toland, meet Iggy. He's like my pet, but more useless." She bent down as if speaking to a small animal, changing her tone of voice. "Isn't that right Iggy?""Affirmative." She stood up. "Told you."</s> <\|message\|>Toland Vas "Hi Iggy," Toland began, "your boss here told me that you haven't been doing well lately. I'm here to help. You can call me a doctor of sorts. A droid doctor! Top ten in my class in The Grand Skakoan Insitute of Droid Technologies." It was obvious that the issue here wasn't just some bad Cybot Galacitic longevity issues. Well, it was a part of the problem. No something else was keeping the little droid down. Toland turned to Tadia, his mind racing at different possibilities. The first thing that came to mind was Iggy's modifications. A small model droid like a IM-6 would have issues hovering after a while with non-factory standard mods. "Ok so I have some ideas brewing," he told her. "Do you have spare small power cells laying around?"</s> <\|message\|>Tadia Omi-Ren "Doc" Tadia burst out laughing, before slapping her side. Though she soon stopped. "Wait you're serious?" She put on a consoling face and walked over, putting her hand on Tolands shoulder. "Toland, this is the Rebel Alliance. We don't have spare anythings." She took a moment to look around. She ended up walking over to one of the older model MD droids sitting in the corner, turned it around and puilled the fusion battery out of it before tossing it over. "Use this, this MD droid has had it. In fact if you get Iggy working you can have it as fair payment for your time. Whether for spare parts or if you want to fix it up. Your call." She looked at Iggy. "I don't even understand why this is happening, the only thing that isn't box standard as far as I know is his masculine programming. No extra drug compartments or anything like that. Though I wouldn't put anything past happening on this ship."</s> <\|message\|>Toland Vas "I was just going to ask if you were up for some drink later on after this," Toland replied with a smile as he looked onto the MD droid. The old model had definitely seen hard days, either through hours of long surgery or medicating the unsavory crew of the Intruder. "If you want I can still take that old guy off your hands. Turn him into something useful like an clock or something." Toland took the power cell and hooked it up directly to Iggy's repulsorlift, overclocking it by about one-hundred and fifty percent. Along with that, Toland redirected all of the IM-6's base power cells directly to all other systems and equipment. If his hunch was right, little Iggy would be zipping and zooming around like an X-Wing pilot on the roughest drugs in the galaxy. "Ok Iggy, I want you to do five laps around the med-bay. I want you to stay low in case there something else is going on and you lose control. After the second lap, I want you to go as high as you can and show us what you are made of."</s>	<\|message\|>Tadia Omi-Ren "Doc" Tadia laughed again. "Alcohol on an Ex-Pirate ship? Well. That's just a recipe for disaster. Alcohol only on shore leave, except the stuff I have in here for cleaning wounds." She pointed to a locked cabinet. "And even then I need to keep an eye on it that it doesn't go missing." She sighed as the droid went around the room, banging into things as he did so, after a couple of attempts at circumventing a bed he rocketed up into the air hitting the ceiling before falling back down, flat on his back. "I did tell you he couldn't see, right?" She winced as he sparked slightly, he was pretty much toast. "I think Iggy might be a longer term project than you had hoped he would be and what I would hope he would be." She eyed around the room, as if saying something that was secret and she shouldn't say. "Between you and me, I think he's the only other doctor other than me." Then she stopped. "Well, that's actually true. Well, he's not a Doctor but he has the same training. I mean there are plenty of medics around." She grabbed her jacket in a show of pride. "But I'm a doctor, got my diploma somewhere... though I can't remember where I put it. The Hutt probably sold it for alcohol or something, I don't know." Her chrono beeped. "Though the mystery of the missing Doctorate will have to wait for another time, briefing time."</s>
<\|description\|>Tadia Omi-Ren "Doc" "What've we got this time?" Species: Human, Corellian Age: 28 Planet of Origin/Birth: Corellia Force Sensitive Y/N: Unknown, some claim she is however she's never played stock to such rumours. Skills/Abilities:- Basic Blaster Training - Charismatic - Tactical Thinker (Sabaac Player) - Medical training Equipment:- A280 Blaster Rifle - 1x DC17 blaster pistol, set to stun - 1x MD Droid (Stays aboard the Intruder) - Field medic kit - Psychological Profile:Tadia has a simple past, a compassionate and caring soul who has the problem of having seen conflict war and death. Which has closed her off somewhat from other people, when she doesn't notice people are watching she will often zone out looking into the distance reminicing however when it comes to the grind and when she is needed she is fully focused at getting the job done. It isn't known the exact moment she officially joined the rebellion however she's been with the Liberators since they left Uslam but few alive know some of the horrors she saw during the evacuation. History: She was always compassionate and caring, having a drive to help people. After she left secondary she entered the medical traid heading to university to become a Doctor. Specialising in surgery and life saving techniques she also self studied minor practices so that she could perform more all around duties as necessary. She passed with her doctorate, nothing special however she got her honours and her full doctorate. Which is where things began to change. She took a job on the mining world of Uslam, as a general practitioner. It was here that she saw the squalor and the poor living conditions the miners lived in. When push came to shove and conflict arose she did what she could to help the rebels. Not reporting blaster wounds and healing them up, and when it turned out into an all out war she dropped the front and moved herself from rebel cell to rebel cell helping out wherever necessary. Then the Imperials cracked down on the planet. She was in one of the last evacuation ships, and the only medic on it with a majority of wounded. It's unclear what exactly happened to the ship however when it finally made it to the rendevouz not even the recovery crew will mention what they saw aboard the ship. Tadia herself was never quite the same, still cocky and charismatic but something about her smile never quite reached her eyes and she seemed more distant. The rookies never noticing but the veterans did. Yes, and:She's less caring than many others about the Intruders pirate past but isn't really close with anyone from the crew. She does feel however that she is close friends with Serossa, Beskad and Kellar being older members of the liberators and almost sees Uslam and it's people her true family. She has also been one of the few liberators to be kind to Thanner Antares as far as she sees it it isn't his past that defines him, but the path he is on now that does.</s> <\|message\|>Lieutenant Durod Byron Escort Detail Slooga moved slow enough, but the Liberators managed to lag behind. Thanks to Lt. Byron's diplomatic graces, the soldiers were volunteered to do most of the heavy lifting for the exchange, while the crooks (and a few of the lighter Liberators) fanned out in a loose echelon formation. All told they had thirty sets of eyes, all panning the scenery of Ganatoo Spaceport and assessing the crowds. It was easy to forget, while in deep space, that plenty of people in the galaxy weren't smugglers, or stormtroopers, or rebels, or whatever else -- plenty of people were simply living out their lives as normally as could be managed in a time like this. Merchants, small game hunters, chefs, stick jockeys. The spaceport attracted all types. All types seemed eager to give the Hutt a wide berth. The team encountered no resistance as they made their way, slowly, to the illicit rendezvous. The exchange was to take place in an open square, isolated from the main drags by a few blocks and secure enough from any prying eyes. There were alleys and high windows to contend with, but with all the manpower and kit they'd brought, it seemed like nothing they couldn't handle. A pair of runners -- shady as hell, Keller thought -- had run ahead to check out the site, and they were presently coming back into view. Vannin hummed a tune that could've passed for Gammorean folk music and pushed a heavily-laden sled. The pirates were nervous talking about business around the new LT, but he'd managed to gather that the trade involved weapons and scrap from the last weapon, and they were getting some medical gear of some sort (which Tadia, much to Byron's chagrin, had insisted on inspecting personally). The new faces in the detail were, to their credit, pushing heavy sleds up a hill like real-live Liberators. A noble calling. The HIGHEST calling. True Heroes of the Republic, to the last, astride their mighty loads. He chuckled. Well, that was the job, no helping it. They brought the goods into the square and caught their breath. On the opposite end stood the requisite amount of scum and villainy, there to watch over the exchange and protect their own crime lord. One had to wonder how many of those could exist in the galaxy -- enough, certainly. Tensions seemed low and the business people set about their business while the grunts thumbed at their blasters and wondered about the slicing progress. After a while -- the deal still progressing according to the brief -- a few more goons began to trickle in behind Slooga's rival. One at a time, at first, and spaced out enough so as not to arouse suspicions. But there were definitely more of them. A dozen had turned into fifteen, and another walking in with a carbine. Keller kept humming and casually checked the alley by which they'd come in. Someone was turning back passers-by a few blocks down -- and not one of their own people. Motherfucker, he thought out loud. He made his way to the LT, casually as possible. "I'm getting a real bad vibe," he muttered, omitting the 'sir' on account of their cover. "Might be nothing -- might be trouble." He gave a quick recap of the situation. "I see them," Byron replied, with a tone that suggested he'd caught the same feeling as well. "Slooga's guys aren't picking up on it, and I don't know how they'll react, so keep it quiet for now. But pass the word to the Liberators. If something goes down, we can't lose the Hutt." Keller nodded and shuffled off to whisper in someone's ear. Meanwhile, Byron keyed his communicator. "How's the weather?" he asked. "Looks like we might have to take the nerf outside pretty quick."</s> <\|message\|>Slooga Besadii Nem'ro Traffic control was a small room with a large mainframe and a few access terminals, designed to control an entire plannet's ship traffic grid and provide very precise model predictions as well as interact with ships' nav computers and autopilots to provide the necessary data to get them down safely, or at least to provide pilots the guidance. Luckily, the company that provided it also provided the code to Rebel programmers, who swiftly developed very efficient viruses to penetrate the system and bug it. The PDA being used for the virus insertion by Toland went off with a warning, intended to go off if a security station arose. Handed the pad, Serossa's eyes widened considerably even as she got on the commlink with the LT and Intruder's bridge and announced, "Dove hunt." That was the code word for Imperial trouble, that the mission was compromised by Imperial Forces. A Pigeon Trap was bounty hunters and a Duck Lure was local law enforcement. A Dove Hunt was a definite abort; if the Empire caught wind of them, they'd pile on the reinforcements and firepower until the rebels were dead. One could shoot their way past local forces and buy off or gun down bounty hunters, but the Imperials with the element of surprise was a good reason to fade out of the system as quickly as possible. She turned to the others, after hitting the pad several times to abort the upload, scrub the stuff already in the Ganatoo system and sanitize the logs to show nothing ever happened. The mission was burned; if the upload were to complete itself, it would be able to conceal itself in the system, but a partial upload would be unstable and possibly reveal itself to the Imperials. An abort and erasure meant having to start over from scratch on the upload, but at least the Imperials might not ever be the wiser for the hack attempt. "Lionesse is en route, looks like, they just cleared all traffic in the Ganatoo pattern for an Imperial Code VTRL. We walk out real casual," she told the rest, "and we go to the port's speeder parking. But anything that we didn't encounter coming in that tries to stop us gets blasted." Besk nodded; assume ISB and shoot to kill; and as Besk figured-- suicide rather than capture. It might get messy, but any bribed guards would possibly turn on them with imperial trouble-- the Empire cared little for smuggling but a lot about Rebels and they'd paid smuggler rate bribes suitable for local, not Imperial, trouble. "I'll lead Serossa," he said casually, knowing that the point had to kill fast; Sekula needed to be on Thanner's back and Thanner couldn't be up on point. Toland was a cherry. Besk threw him a wink he didn't feel. "I've got rear," the sarge said as they moved out, along the slightly shabby blue-painted plastoid hallways of Ganatoo, eventually melding with the crowd of regular people who were not, it seemed, panicking or trying to necessarily leave, though they were held up in the terminal. That, to Besk's eyes, looked good -- the security people didn't look all that surprised, and while all the departures and arrivals showed delays, it didn't look like the trouble was spaceport trouble. He didn't quite dare breathe a sigh of relief as they got out the doors; the Sarge clearly didn't see anything either, since she was the one best qualified to spot a tail and off the bastard if necessary. But so far, all clear, especially when they took a few turns into less crowded areas, checked the horizon for any signs of surveillance. If they were being tracked, they'd have to be good, and if they were that good, the Liberators were probably burned. Shockingly, they made it to their speeder truck, "borrowed" with no sign that they were the object of he security problem; a quick scan of hacked local comms, using code lifted from the traffic control system indicated it was...of course. Slooga. "What's the plan, Sarge?"</s> <\|message\|>Lieutenant Durod Byron "Heads up." By now all the Liberators on the escort detail were wise to the danger at hand. They all tried to keep a low profile even though they were on high alert -- Vannin even managed to quiet himself, expecting imminent trouble. Trouble came. Slooga shook hands with the local contact, and the local contact didn't let go. The facade bled away in an instant -- muzzles left their holsters on both ends of the square. The contact raised his voice. "You all know the game," the man said loudly. "Sooner or later they get us all. Imps pinched me three weeks ago, and I walk if I give them the hutt. Walk away now, we'll do the same." "Bastard!" Slooga bellowed. "You can shoot it out if you like," the contact continued, ignoring his new prisoner. "Their frigate is already enroute. You can make it out if you run, but not if you fight. Just walk away. Leave the hutt with me, and one of you can take his place, I don't care. We can do this nice and easy, or we c..." The contact stopped short. He let go of Slooga's hand, and crumpled to the ground with an audible sizzling sound. Slooga turned to face his men, a disruptor pistol smoking in his left hand. "Kill them all!" he roared. The battle erupted in a flash. Pirates from both sides opened fire. Vannin sprayed a hail of bolts at the high rise opposite their position, then loaded a fresh cell and advanced, crouching and weaving his way towards Slooga, who was already flanked by troopers. Lt. Byron was there, letting loose with a heavy pistol and trying to speak calmly into his communicator. He was doing a poor job. Vannin snatched it out of his hands and screamed, "Nerf just shit the bed, get over here and clean it up! Now!" A hostile ran towards them, and Keller pitched the communicator at him, then brought up his rifle and took him down hard. "We need a plan!" Byron shouted. "We need to bug out!" Keller agreed. Slooga was barking orders. His pirates might have heard them, but Byron ignored them entirely. "Corporal!" he yelled, grabbing Vannin's shoulder. "Secure a path to the shuttle!" Vannin nodded. "Give me three minutes. And send the slug now! He'll slow you down!" He tossed a grenade into the hostile end of the square and turned on his heels. "Hayca! Fish! On me!" The three of them moved into the alley. The squad was surrounded -- but not for long. Meanwhile, Lt. Byron labored in vain to separate Slooga from the front line of the firefight. By now the friendlies had gained a slim edge, but more enemies were pouring in, and stormtroopers wouldn't be far behind. Confounded, Byron spotted Tadia nearby. "Doc!" he called. "We gotta get him moving now. You're in charge. Get. Him. On. That. Shuttle!" Someone called out a flanking move by the enemy, and Byron's attention was absorbed once more in the shooting. He slid into cover a few meters away, and tried his luck giving orders to Slooga's pirates. Slooga, furious but at last realizing the futility of prolonging the issue, growled and cursed, and at last began to cooperate with his Alliance team. "Get me out," he muttered.</s>	<\|message\|>Tadia Omi-Ren "Doc" Tadia jumped behind cover, firing her rifle over it. "I'm in charge of the Hutt? I hope you get shot Byron." She jumped over the barrier literally pushing the giant slug towards an alleyway. "Stay in cover idiot." The Hutt cursed something in huttese. "Yeah, if you got something to say that isn't nice keep it in your mouth. Though you should probably do as I say right now as I've never operated on a Hutt before, and do you really want me to start now?" She winced as she realized the supplies were left behind, raising her commlink she spoke into it. "Lt. The Medical supplies, we can't just leave them behind. We need them. Otherwise next time someone gets shot I'm going to have to use a hammer as sedative." She ducked looked around the corner as more people began running towards them. "I really hate this job sometimes."</s>
<\|description\|>Thanner Antares Species: Human Age: 25 Planet of Origin/Birth: Alderaan Force Sensitive Y/N: No Appearance: Skills/Abilities: - Subterfuge: Thanner Antares is a spy, and spy's deal in secrecy. He excels at avoiding detection, and he is able to slice into computer networks and security systems. - Smooth-talker: A master of deception, Thanner is able to utilize his suave and sophisticated demeanor to manipulate others effectively. - Sharpshooter: Trained in marksmanship at the Imperial academy, his weapon of his choice is the sniper rifle and he has carried out several assassinations on behalf of the Empire in the past. - Traitor: Given his background, he also has a working knowledge of Imperial procedures and personnel, which has proven to be an asset to the Rebellion on multiple occasions. Equipment: - Sniper rifle - Blaster pistols - Stealth field generator - Fusion cutter - Night vision goggles - Charm and charisma Psychological Profile: At the end of the day, Thanner is a turncoat. He is a traitor to not only the Empire, but to his family. Although he believes what he is doing is morally right, Thanner continues to struggle with this notion of betrayal and he is haunted by the missions he's carried out in service to the Empire. He past also makes it hard for others within the Rebellion to fully trust him. Thanner can't blame them. History: Thanner was born into a wealthy and respected family on the planet Alderaan. His father, Commander Calder Antares, served in the Republic government and has since gone on to become a highly ranked and very well regarded Imperial officer, a true loyalist to the Emperor's cause. To Thanner's father, legacy is of the utmost importance, and he instilled in his son a strong respect for authority. During his teenaged years, Thanner met and fell in love with an idyllic young woman named Rashira. Rashira did not share the same views as Thanner with regards to the Empire, but he still greatly admired her spirit. Unfortunately, politics would soon come between them, and Rashira left Alderaan. At the age of 18, Thanner was intent on following in his father's footsteps. He would attend the Imperial academy on a full scholarship and soon became an Imperial officer in his own right. Thanner learned quickly how to present himself in order to rise the ranks of the Empire. His noble bloodline, combined with his ability to manipulate his fellow officers allowed him to ascend quite quickly. Imperial Intelligence soon took a great interest in the young Antares, noticing his uncanny ability to know exactly what to say at any given moment. He was recruited as an agent of the Empire, carrying out secret missions at the highest level of discretion. The Rebel movement was growing across the galaxy and Thanner was exactly what the agency was looking for, a skilled operative with an undying loyalty to the Empire. The only problem was, Thanner's loyalty had started to wane. He had seen the atrocities committed by the Empire, especially the ones committed by his own father, and for the first time he questioned his place in the galaxy. Thanner specialized in anti-Rebel operations, detecting and eliminating Rebel sympathizers or spies. However, he grew to resent his actions over time, and he would become the very thing he swore to destroy. He became a double agent, selling Imperial secrets to the Rebel cause. His contact within the Rebellion was none other than his lost love Rashira, who had grown to become a powerful freedom fighter. Unfortunately, his treason would soon be discovered by Imperial Intelligence, and his family legacy would be disgraced in the eyes of the Empire. In the Empire, the penalty for treason is death, and Thanner's father was ordered to be his executioner. Commander Antares was forced to chose between his son and his Emperor, and he would chose the latter. Luckily for Thanner, Rashira still considered him to be an asset of great value to the Rebellion and she led a Rebel strike team on a mission to rescue him. During the ensuing escape, a firefight erupted. Rashira was shot and killed by Thanner's father, a sacrifice that allowed Thanner to escape. Thanner now fights on the side of the Rebellion, still haunted by the sins of his past and by Rashira's sacrifice. Yes, and: During his time as an Imperial agent, he gathered vital intelligence that aided the Empire in their conquest of the planet Uslam. This has led to some (understandable) hostility from Corporal Jenk Beskad and Corporal Keller "Bits" Vannin, both of whom are natives of Uslam. Coproral Beskad in particular harbors great distrust for Agent Antares, owing not just to Thanner's past alliegiances but because of his personality as well. Beskad is a rugged loud-mouthed miner while Antares is a smooth-talking man of sophistication, born into the highest class of society.</s> <\|message\|>HK-51 HK-51 re-activated on cue to the Human Female pointing at The Master. "Warning: Safety protocols disengaging - I am detecting aggressive behaviour towards the Master. I would not threaten The Master if I were you, meatbag." His cold and synthetic tones pierced the room, and all eyes turned on him and the incredulous woman</s> <\|message\|>Specialist Hayca Carid Hayca had been standing behind most of the veterans. She had been observing and assessing the greenhorns according to her own weird measurements. The moment the captain was outside of earshot Hayca walked up to Keller. "So, who are you placing your bets on this time Bits?" She looked over at the group and started pointing at two men. "One, two aaanndd..." A grin formed on her face as she pointed at Toland. "Three." She looked back at Keller and gave him a shove with her elbow. "Those are my picks, gonna bet ten credits on each of em. Speaking about credits, who won last time?" She said, still with that same grin on her face. She actually wanted to bet on the new lieutenant but saying that directly to a superiour officer's face might get you into trouble. Speaking about the new guy, it looked like the sarge would be the one who was going to have to keep the platoon together, cause this guy looked like a whimp. Besk saluted to the guy. Well, he shouldnt really expect any salute from her untill he had proven himself as a capable member of the unit. Besides that, she was rather happy with her picks and was almost sure that she'd win this bet. Right at that moment the droid which had been collecting dust all this time reactivated and started calling Tadia a meatbag. Well, it certainly seemed like things were gonna liven up in a few minutes.</s> <\|message\|>Corporal Keller "Bits" Vannin "I think we split the last round. Lemme see...." Vannin evaluated Hayca's picks, rattling off baseless assumptions about each of them under his breath and listing things like 'funny smile' as if they would have an impact on the soldier's lifespan in battle. When he was satisfied, his volume came back up to a conversational level and he finished his train of thought. "... kind of a limp I guess or not, but you're right about Chompers there, he'll go for sure. And Tats for three? Maybe." He bobbed his head left and right, and one could almost hear the loose screw in his head clanging against either side of his skull. "But I'll take the squid over him, if droids don't count. And that one." He leveled a finger at Thanner Antares. "That one smells like a clone vat. I'll go double that he's first." The humor drained from his voice entirely. He knew imperial defectors were a dime a dozen, and sometimes -- like the Captain -- they even came with some useful talents. But this one had a grating air about him that, for some reason, was setting off alarm bells in Vannin's head. "Make it triple, if I'm the one that breaks his neck." "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that, corporal," said the Lieutenant. Vannin shrugged, as if to say 'Whatever helps you sleep,' and straightened up a bit. He raised his voice, trying to draw some attention away from the myriad powderkegs that seemed to be springing up on every front. "My name is Lieutenant Durod Byron. I understand you folks have been holding your own out here for some time, and Fleet Command is real happy about the way you boy... you folks do work." The look on his face said that he hoped nobody noticed the blunder. "Now we're here to fill in some gaps, and help you keep doing what you do best. I know this can be a little awkward, and hopefully we'll get used to each other pretty quick, but in the meantime I just want you all to know that I'm not here to change the way you fellas do business. I'm gonna do my best to stay out of your hair, and together we'll get the job done, your way. So. Take a few minutes and get acquainted. The new guys brought a little extra gear, feel free to help them square it away, and we'll meet up in the briefing room in two hours. Got a hot new target in mind, should be a good hit." He glanced at the HK, and a glimmer of dread flashed across his face as he envisioned a brawl breaking out. "Better make that one hour. We'll get some introductions out of the way and go over the mission." He came very close to saying 'dismissed,' but decided against it at the last second, made a half-salute, and stepped off. Before leaving the hangar he whispered something to Sergeant Sekula. Vannin didn't make anything out of that conversation, but he turned back to Hayca and said, "Guess he doesn't want us punching the new guys just yet, huh."</s> <\|message\|>Toland Vas Toland spasmed for a moment, being caugh off guard twice in a literal matter of seconds. He should of known that the HK-51 unit he had worked on weeks ago would be persistent, but being close to a stalker never came to mind. "I'm sorry, one second," Toland asked Tadia politely with a hint of embarrassment. He turned to HK, grabbed the droid by the "shoulders" and stared him directly into his sensors. "I'm sorry, but this is getting to be a little much," Toland told the droid outright. "I am not your master. I don't want I be your master. I want you to find the person with the most facial hair in this room and make him your master. That is a direct order!" With that done, Toland turned back to Tadia with as much composure he could muster and saluted her. "Private Toland Vas, at your service. Not a complete idiot and yes, good with droids. My big metal friend here is Betuu. Say hi." "Hi," Betuu copies as if he were a big weaponize parrot. "Also, side note," Toland added in, "I don't condone anything the HK unit just said before. He's not mine."</s>	<\|message\|>Thanner Antares Thanner stood among the regiment's new recruits, and could not help but turn up his nose at the stench of cheap liquor in the air. He knew that the regiment's soldiers considered themselves to be separate from the pirate crew aboard the Intruder, but he found it difficult to make that distinction himself. As he glanced across the room at the veterans of the unit, the likely source of the foul odor, he noticed one of the soldiers pointing a finger at him and muttering about. Thanner smirked and turned away, undoubtedly projecting a foulness of his own. It was the stench of arrogance. Of elitism. A stench not so easily washed away. In his short time with the Rebellion Thanner had become privy to such accusatory gestures and mutterings, and he had become exceedingly adept at shrugging them off. Perhaps too adept. Thanner refocused his attention as the new Lieutenant spoke. "My name is Lieutenant Durod Byron. I understand you folks have been holding your own out here for some time, and Fleet Command is real happy about the way you boy... you folks do work." "Not a great start," Thanner thought to himself, glancing around again at the rugged folks in his midst. "Now we're here to fill in some gaps, and help you keep doing what you do best. I know this can be a little awkward, and hopefully we'll get used to each other pretty quick, but in the meantime I just want you all to know that I'm not here to change the way you fellas do business. I'm gonna do my best to stay out of your hair, and together we'll get the JOB done, your way. So. Take a few minutes and get acquainted. The new guys brought a little extra gear, feel free to help them square it away, and we'll meet up in the briefing room in two hours. Got a hot new target in mind, should be a good hit." To say that things would be a little awkward was surely an understatement, but Thanner was confident that he would soon be able to smooth things over. He had been in tough spots before, but he had always been able to talk his way out of a situation. In truth, his tongue had saved him more times than he could count, and it was what allowed him to excel as an agent of the Empire. Thanner had much less confidence however, in the Lieutenant's ability to lead. Thanner knew that, above all, these gruff military-types responded to authority and detested weakness. After what these men had been through, they had no place for weakness. Lieutenant Byron possessed authority on paper, but he oozed weakness through every orifice, and Thanner knew that the veterans would detect this as surely as he detected their disgusting aroma. He wondered how long the Lieutenant could survive in this environment. After the Lieutenant finished his address, Thanner made his way across the hangar, deliberately walking past the same soldier that had been unsubtlety gesturing in his direction previously. "Guess he doesn't want us punching the new guys just yet, huh," he heard the soldier say. "I should certainly hope not," Thanner replied casually, "For your sake." Turning his back to the soldier, Thanner carried on. He saw the Lieutenant whispering something to a woman before exiting the hangar, and he managed to catch the woman's eye with his own piercing gaze. He strode over to the woman and extended his hand, ensuring that the display was seen by the soldier he had mocked. "Sergeant Sekula I presume? My name is Antares...Thanner Antares."</s>
<\|description\|>Ja'vi Harkan Species: Twi'lek Age: 25 Planet of Origin/Birth: Unknown, she doesn't remember. Force Sensitive Y/N: Yes Appearance: (Training Lightsaber is Defunct and hidden.) Skills/Abilities:-Healer- Although she is not a masterful user of the Force compared to even a Padawan, Ja'van is able to use it to help hasten the healing of injuries or slowing the rate by which they cause death. Enabling her to buy time to save lives. -Ja'vi be Nimble, Ja'vi be Quick- Being a creature that is slender and light of feet, she is quite skilled in acrobatic feats. She treads lightly, and is adept in being stealthy and sticking to the shadows in patience waiting for a vulnerability to take advantage of. -Speeder Bike Pilot- With the uncanny reactivity that force sensitivity has given her, Ja'vi is an insanely skilled Speeder Bike pilot. -Still Learning the Ways - After abandoning Coruscant and escaping to the outer-rim to try and find and aid rebels, she has restarted the meditations she had came to know as a youngling. It has granted her extremely limited use of the force in the form of slight increases to reaction time and the ability to move small objects with the Force. Though she would only ever use it in the case of a truly dire emergency as it tends to get her noticed more than she'd like. -Quick Wits that Stay Steady- Even though she is not very practiced on the field of battle, she has the uncanny ability to stay cool under significant pressure. Whether it's the ability to think clearly while under fire and similar situations. -Small Arms Crack Shot- Having gained some practice while wandering the universe in search of the rebellion, Ja'vi has become quite a decent shot with some of the weapons. Particularly the pistol, as the Rifle often feels to cumbersome for her to like. -Duelist- Even though she hasn't had much practice with a Lightsaber, she's quite good with various kinds of blades due to her nimbleness and dexterity. She carries a pair of Vibro-Blades (short swords) on her back instead, of which she uses with great effectiveness in close quarters combat. With such fluidity is this, that those who have seen her fight in such a manner oft say that she moves like a Jedi. Equipment:- Blaster Pistol x 1 - Vibro Blades x 2 - Standard Issue Rebellion Helmet and Blaster Armor Psychological Profile:Calm and steady of mind. Benevolent, but strict. Ja'vi cares deeply for those that surround her and does her best to insure their well being. If someone hurts those she cares for however, her tendencies can swing into the outright defiant...or even ferocious. The Tranquility of the Light Side is hard to instill within her. History: Her first memory was the hand of a strange looking man reaching down to her amongst blinding sunlight. As a child, she was swept up by the Jedi as a recruit during the horrors of the Clone Wars. They had discovered her to be rather credibly sensitive to the invisible will that governed the flow of life and will in the universe. Her midichlorian count was high, but not incredible akin to the masterfulness of Yoda, or the prodigal Anakin Skywalker. She was destined not to become a Master, she was destined to become a Knight. She was barely a youngling when the insidious Order 66 was issued. One of the very few fortunate enough to escape into the alleyways of Coruscant in the first few minutes of the Great Purge, Ja'vi lived a fearful life that was constantly on the run until she found someone who took pity on her. A Doctor, a kind, benevolent man who had taken The Doctor's Oath in ages past. He hid her away from those who hunted her, fulfilling the oath that he held concerning helping those in need. She lived in hiding then for many years until her adoptive father decided that it would be safer for them to move to the outer rim. On the way there, she was separated from him in an unfortunate accident. From then on as a young teenaged girl living on the outer rim, she lived a life of risk and danger of falling into enslavement; until one day she won a Speeder Bike from an unwitting man in a game of chance. This was the moment that she discovered her knack for such a task. Tearing through jungles and oft escaping death by mere hairs of a distance, the nimble girl took her talents to blurring past on-planet outposts of Imperial Guards as a small-time smuggler of small, insanely valuable and illicit goods. So competent was she in this, that as she grew older, the former Youngling eventually obtained the attention of the Rebellion. They sought her for her ability to sneak past or outrun those who pursued her. And one day, she awoke not in the hovel of her hideout, but instead a eerily quite and cold chamber with a bag over her head. Once she stirred, it was removed, and she was suddenly face to face with members of the Rebellion. More than willingly for the sins cast upon her from the past, she joined their cause. Thankfully they did not know what she actually was, and they paid fairly well. Through basic training she never fared well, except for in the close-quarters setting of combat. There she became known as a monstrosity. Not much longer, the former youngling would find herself on the front lines of a messy, bloody conflict; and she was more than willing to put her blades to work. Yes, and:This is a bit of a writing exercise; how your character relates to the character posted above yours. It should be something incidental, and can easily involve antipathies and disagreements. It's almost like a 'how they met' sort of exercise.</s> <\|message\|>Betuu Essbede Betuu was laying waste to backwater scum left and right, finally back in his element. The rouges were nothing like the highly trained clone of his day. The clones were brave and almost worthy of his respect. Bioengineered machines of war. The perfect foil to glory of The Confederacy. These idiots were cowards, cowering behind cover like rats. Betuu was happy to exterminate them. Betuu planted himself behind a civilian speeder and unleashed the fury of his blasters on any fool who rose from cover. "Advise," Betuu suggested over the comms, "the opposing forces here are being reactionary and do not seem to have set up any official plan-of-attack for this engagement. Recommend complete elimination of current ground forces before the arrival of reinforcement. No witnesses. Will allow surviving rebels time to escape off world." ----------- Toland was already at the speeder when alarms began to sound from the spaceport. Looks like someone had woken up from his nap. He grabbed his pistol, which he had snuck into the glove compartment of the stolen ride. This is it, he thought. "We should probably get out of here and meet with the others," Toland thought aloud, but he had a sneaking suspicion that his opinion wasn't worth a credit to them.</s> <\|message\|>Slooga Besadii Nem'ro "Have Betuu give us approximate location of forces and other pertinent tac data," he told Toland, instantaneously grasping that Betuu wasn't going to lose his cool in reporting everything concisely and accurately where the Lieutenant might be a little busy having his first firefight. It was an intuitive thing on Besk's part, but he knew it was a good gut call. A droid might be limited in devising a plan, but you could always rely on one to provide a pretty accurate kriffing report in a pinch, which would really help them get it together. Behind the wheel of the speeder truck, Besk managed to drive recklessly fast, using the navigation assistance console and the HUD display that advised him that he was breaking the speeding laws -- of course, right now, the locals were probably way more concerned about a firefight than traffic control. As they drew closer to the fighting, Besk used the information from Betuu to position the truck with a good line of escape close to a good ambush point that'd give them a clear pop at the enemy's flanks. It was still taking too long, even at the speeds at which he was moving. In any case, they had limited weapons but could still pull off a hit-and-fade ambush, "This is the plan," he briefed the others quickly, "Infiltrate, hit contacts with grenades, open fire when the frags go off," it had to be fast, and wanted to give the others the gist of the plan there. "Pull back if it's hairy, link with the LT if we can. If not, back to this van and we bug out. Stay alive." The speeder truck, dilapidated as it was, fit well with the grimy industrial backdrop of Ganatoo, and the vehicle itself was inconspicuous. Using the navigational data, he had a good idea of where to park the thing and disembark the passengers, himself included, with a pistol in hand. He had a det on him, and it would be used. They had to finish this business quickly, and that's why he moved quickly, finding the right sort of urban/industrial cover in the form of crates and trash receptacles as he tried to pick a low-visibility approach on the enemy, guided by the sounds of their fire. It was taking just too kriffing long, with Liberators under fire, and Besk wanted to relieve the pressure, but not get killed doing it. They were taking risks, already, by moving the way they were, which was fast enough to draw notice if the bounty hunters had lookouts. It was a calculated risk, hoping that the bounty hunters were unaware of any other operation outside of the spaceport. When they were in place, braced against cover, Besk let the detonator fly, initiating their ambush. He only stopped long enough to note that it wasn't Imperial military, yet, but rather, fringe scum, not infantry. The plan would work even better on them, or worse if they were professional mercs, though he doubted they were due to a lack of sentries -- Bounty hunters tended to focus on the prey and didn't tend to expect actual reinforcement or the targets to fight back like trained military. There was a grouping of them pouring on fire on the Lieutenant and Slooga and the shuttle with a light repeating blaster, and they had a real good field of fire with a weapon that had good range and rate of fire. The detonator went off and that's when the blaster fire came up, gratifyingly on cue, and that's when the bounty hunters started to get confused about where the fire was coming from.</s>	<\|message\|>Ja'vi Harkan Ja'vi Harkan - Going Hunting The Rebels had struck her as a peculiar, but practical bunch. In the early hours of her morning, she had begun it with a similar routine ever since she had escaped to the Outer Rim. There, in the quiet tranquility of the room that the Alliance had bequeathed to her, she sat cross legged in the center upon a rug. With her eyes closed peacefully, and her slender fingertips woven upon her lap while her elbows rested neatly bent upon her knees; she remained deeply within a tranquil state. She could feel it, flowing around her. The Force. It was a will, a consciousness beyond her own that she could not truly grasp. Yet, the teachings that she had been given as a child reminded her all too well that the ability to sense it was only the beginning. Minor hints, whispers, it spoke to her; yet even after she had been meditating daily for months, she lacked the ability to truly decipher it. Frustrating in some instances and encouraging in others, it was a constant reminder to herself that she direly needed to keep a steady mind, a steadfast conscience. One that would not let her mind slip into anger, no matter how irksome and fickle it seemed to be. Both she and it had changed much from when she was a Youngling, after all. A knock on the barrier that separated her from the rest of the rebellion, and the abrupt slide of its' opening caused her to open one eye. In front of her stood another Rebel Trooper who looked at her in a befuddled manner. It was a fair gesture, most of these men and women seemed to be souls of direct action; searching not for the subtleties of complex trials, but the simplest means with the least amount of sacrifice. For that, they had her admiration. But it didn't excuse how they oft looked at her with such peculiarity. "Harkan, get your fangs. We're going hunting today." Standing up and plucking up her Helmet, she was careful to insure that it didn't cause discomfort for the tendrils that extended in a smooth curl past beyond her head as she donned it. The former small-time smuggler turned trooper quietly nodded and then holstered her blaster pistol. Belts tightly fastened about her shoulders as a pair of Vibro-blades fastened tightly about her upper waist neatly. Then equipping the standard issue plate, the former Youngling then bound out after the other fellow Rebel Troopers that soon embarked upon a wild sprint through the city. As they traveled, Ja'vi's eyes remained closed. Continuing to strive for inner balance while she herself rumbled along in the back of the truck. Orders were given, and she listened carefully; knowing what she was meant to do, the job that Besk wanted her to perform. She was a distraction, she always was. But the way by which the Rebellion's helmet confined her peripheral vision was suffocating. Digging her fingertips into the side, she slowly removed it. Once the Truck came to a sudden, abrupt halt however, she sprinted hurriedly to the cover with the others. Watching as Besk prepared the detonators, she reached behind her and drew out her pair of Vibro-Blades. With the flick of a switch, they hummed softly as they knew all too well their purpose. With a cacophonous roar, the foundations of the earth shook with the eruption of the blast, and she sprung into action. Through the clearing and obscuring smoke, she exploded forward into the confused ranks of the Bounty Hunters like a resurgent wave. Chaos was around her, there was anger, rage, consuming fury, and fear. Yet she herself was tranquil, a resolute wave of resilient strength that tore into the first Bounty Hunter she saw. Blaster Fire hissed and cooked the very air over her as she nimbly avoided it by mere hairs. It was a dance she partook in, a dance that made her feel the very flow of the world around her. One villainous hunter unceremoniously fell, caught by utter surprise and bisected by the waist with a swipe of her blades. Vibro-Blades hissed through the air, and she barely managed to gravely wound another bounty hunter before his shouted warning warned his comrades of her presence. Blasters turned in her direction and instinctively she fled. Nimbly kicking off and away to dive back into the smoke behind some cover where she sheathed one blade and drew her Blaster Pistol instead. She was there to fulfill her purpose, and that was to buy time for others to evacuate before Imperials got involved. That, and naturally escape herself so that she might live and fight another day.</s>
<\|description\|>Ja'vi Harkan Species: Twi'lek Age: 25 Planet of Origin/Birth: Unknown, she doesn't remember. Force Sensitive Y/N: Yes Appearance: (Training Lightsaber is Defunct and hidden.) Skills/Abilities:-Healer- Although she is not a masterful user of the Force compared to even a Padawan, Ja'van is able to use it to help hasten the healing of injuries or slowing the rate by which they cause death. Enabling her to buy time to save lives. -Ja'vi be Nimble, Ja'vi be Quick- Being a creature that is slender and light of feet, she is quite skilled in acrobatic feats. She treads lightly, and is adept in being stealthy and sticking to the shadows in patience waiting for a vulnerability to take advantage of. -Speeder Bike Pilot- With the uncanny reactivity that force sensitivity has given her, Ja'vi is an insanely skilled Speeder Bike pilot. -Still Learning the Ways - After abandoning Coruscant and escaping to the outer-rim to try and find and aid rebels, she has restarted the meditations she had came to know as a youngling. It has granted her extremely limited use of the force in the form of slight increases to reaction time and the ability to move small objects with the Force. Though she would only ever use it in the case of a truly dire emergency as it tends to get her noticed more than she'd like. -Quick Wits that Stay Steady- Even though she is not very practiced on the field of battle, she has the uncanny ability to stay cool under significant pressure. Whether it's the ability to think clearly while under fire and similar situations. -Small Arms Crack Shot- Having gained some practice while wandering the universe in search of the rebellion, Ja'vi has become quite a decent shot with some of the weapons. Particularly the pistol, as the Rifle often feels to cumbersome for her to like. -Duelist- Even though she hasn't had much practice with a Lightsaber, she's quite good with various kinds of blades due to her nimbleness and dexterity. She carries a pair of Vibro-Blades (short swords) on her back instead, of which she uses with great effectiveness in close quarters combat. With such fluidity is this, that those who have seen her fight in such a manner oft say that she moves like a Jedi. Equipment:- Blaster Pistol x 1 - Vibro Blades x 2 - Standard Issue Rebellion Helmet and Blaster Armor Psychological Profile:Calm and steady of mind. Benevolent, but strict. Ja'vi cares deeply for those that surround her and does her best to insure their well being. If someone hurts those she cares for however, her tendencies can swing into the outright defiant...or even ferocious. The Tranquility of the Light Side is hard to instill within her. History: Her first memory was the hand of a strange looking man reaching down to her amongst blinding sunlight. As a child, she was swept up by the Jedi as a recruit during the horrors of the Clone Wars. They had discovered her to be rather credibly sensitive to the invisible will that governed the flow of life and will in the universe. Her midichlorian count was high, but not incredible akin to the masterfulness of Yoda, or the prodigal Anakin Skywalker. She was destined not to become a Master, she was destined to become a Knight. She was barely a youngling when the insidious Order 66 was issued. One of the very few fortunate enough to escape into the alleyways of Coruscant in the first few minutes of the Great Purge, Ja'vi lived a fearful life that was constantly on the run until she found someone who took pity on her. A Doctor, a kind, benevolent man who had taken The Doctor's Oath in ages past. He hid her away from those who hunted her, fulfilling the oath that he held concerning helping those in need. She lived in hiding then for many years until her adoptive father decided that it would be safer for them to move to the outer rim. On the way there, she was separated from him in an unfortunate accident. From then on as a young teenaged girl living on the outer rim, she lived a life of risk and danger of falling into enslavement; until one day she won a Speeder Bike from an unwitting man in a game of chance. This was the moment that she discovered her knack for such a task. Tearing through jungles and oft escaping death by mere hairs of a distance, the nimble girl took her talents to blurring past on-planet outposts of Imperial Guards as a small-time smuggler of small, insanely valuable and illicit goods. So competent was she in this, that as she grew older, the former Youngling eventually obtained the attention of the Rebellion. They sought her for her ability to sneak past or outrun those who pursued her. And one day, she awoke not in the hovel of her hideout, but instead a eerily quite and cold chamber with a bag over her head. Once she stirred, it was removed, and she was suddenly face to face with members of the Rebellion. More than willingly for the sins cast upon her from the past, she joined their cause. Thankfully they did not know what she actually was, and they paid fairly well. Through basic training she never fared well, except for in the close-quarters setting of combat. There she became known as a monstrosity. Not much longer, the former youngling would find herself on the front lines of a messy, bloody conflict; and she was more than willing to put her blades to work. Yes, and:This is a bit of a writing exercise; how your character relates to the character posted above yours. It should be something incidental, and can easily involve antipathies and disagreements. It's almost like a 'how they met' sort of exercise.</s> <\|message\|>Corporal Keller "Bits" Vannin Vannin and his three filled in as rear-guard as the rest of the rebels trickled into the shuttle. He took a position at the foot of the ramp, and squeezed off covering fire for the others as they ran in. Besk's speeder came up the ramp and that looked like it. "We're good!" he shouted. "Headcount!" Sekula shouted. The detail leaders checked over their men and reported back. They were short one light gunner. Someone went to check the head -- Vannin figured you never know with the new guys -- and Byron shouted something along the lines of 'Push off, we can't wait.' How typical. Just then a speeder came flying around a corner and Vannin raised his gun. "That's him!" he shouted. "Hold up!" In hindsight, it might just as easily have been a suicide bomber on one last desperate attempt to kill Slooga, but that thought never occurred to Vannin, who waved the speeder up the ramp frantically. Sure enough, it was one of their new troopers, with a big gun, dead body, and an attitude problem. Vannin was in love. "You got balls, lady," he said. "Fish over there thought you were attacking us. He almost killed you." Ortro Dob raised his fins in protest. He'd done no such thing. Nearby, Hayca rolled her eyes and muttered 'Pathetic.' --------------- "Someone ought to tell that space slug to stop crying, we still have his merchandise and it's loaded. But don't tell him we just found his contact's funds. He doesn't need to know that," Besk told the LT, with a wink, "Full report later." Byron sighed. "We just failed our mission because of him," he said. He made no mention of the unit's losses. "Controlling Slooga in the field is barely even possible, and his men are worse. We can't keep working together like this." He knew from training that he wasn't supposed to vent frustrations like this to enlisted, but the adrenaline was draining away quicker than his anger. Everything should have worked -- the rebels did their job, and they still failed against trash, all because of Slooga's miscalculation. Cost of doing business, probably -- but that wasn't a business that Lt. Byron wanted any part of anymore. "We're going to get back to basics," he decided aloud. "Get me a tally on the supplies and the wounded, see what we can do about those speeders..... We'll debrief on the Intruder." He didn't say it, but he knew already how the conversation with the captain would go. From now on, they were done playing dress-up for Hutts. It was time to point this firepower back where it belonged -- at the imps.</s> <\|message\|>Saleen Re'Revoure Saleen's attention turned over to Corporal Vannin in at the ramp. "After being almost stranded, I would only need a dose of friendly fire to complete my day." Saleen said with a sarcastic voice, turning her helmet to face Ortro. She had never been a fan of aliens, and the Mon Calamari were only too alien for her liking. The notion that he had almost fired at her did not help her opinion of his people any further. Perhaps fortunately for the sake of diplomacy, the actual expression she was currently giving Ortro was hidden under her helmet. "Sorry about the mess... I didn't have time to strap him in." She said as she turned to Vannin, motioning towards the Gran bounty hunter just as the alien slid off the back of the truck and slumped down onto the front of the burning cab which was currently being extinguished by three rebels with extinguishers. The rear of the truck, Saleen, and some of the walls in the shuttle had been covered with alien blood following the bounty hunter's splattering. "I forgot to strap him in." Moving her hands to the sides of her helmet to open the pressure and remove it, she shook her head and let her ponytail fall behind her neck. But as she moved her head, she suddenly noticed a familiar figure from the earlier battle. A twi'lek! " ... ! Wait a moment," Saleen said with a sidetracked voice to Vannin, as she turned to face Ja'vi in the shuttle. Marching up to the twi'lek with her helmet under her left arm, she stopped right behind Ja'vi. Waiting for twi'lek to turn around, Saleen raised a hand and slapped Ja'vi right in the cheek just as the twi'lek turned around, almost knocking her to the ground. "WHAT were you thinking leaving me behind?!" Saleen suddenly shouted out, whatever peaceful charade her face had ever hosted having long since been abated as she pointed accusingly down at the shorter twi'lek. "Your stupid tentacle head could have gotten me killed or captured!"</s>	<\|message\|>Ja'vi Harkan Ja'vi - A Minor Altercation She stood silently to the side as the Rebel leaders began to take accountability, only to stand even further back once there was the sound of uproarious chaos behind them. Recklessly charging up the ramp in a hijacked Speeder was none other than the heavy gunner that had almost shot her! She remained nonplussed as the craft crashed into the hangar where they all stood, and stood even further back as the Rebels hurried in to douse the flames. Her further assistance wasn't needed, it seemed. All were accounted for, all were prepared to continue onward and care for the wounded and lost. Though the gruesome display of the dead and bloodied bounty hunter was at least slightly amusing. With the mission complete and gone as far as it could, she lightly plucked up her own helmet from the vehicle she had disembarked from and turned instead to head back towards her quarters to restart the meditation that had been interrupted. Her intention had been one that was peaceful and easygoing as usual. Yet the marching of heavily laden footsteps drawing closer forced her to turn about to see none other than the very same angry gunner that had crashed into the ship. Not only that, but her hand was drawn back in anger, fury and rage that she could sense and understand, but why? What purpose did it hold? It was a movement that she could easily avoid, but to what end would that meet? More likely than not, her avoidance would only cause such enraged fervor to increase in the face of dissatisfaction. More destruction would likely be wrought, and she refused to be the fault of it. So the Twi'lek accepted the strike. Closing her eyes as it drew nearer and sent her spinning into a nearby wall. Her world whirled about her as she regained her equilibrium, and slowly stood back up normally. Insults were slung, but she didn't respond to them. Bearing a sense of defiance, she looked eye to eye with the flamboyantly armored gunner for along moment as venomous words were slung towards her ears. In response, Ja'vi said nothing. Instead she only turned about on her heels while she wiped away a thin trickle of blood that crept from the corner of her lip. There was certainly pain, she accepted it, knowing all too well that her body's way of telling her that there was an injury. Yet in her mind it was not worth going to the medical ward over, as there were wounded pouring in there. A minor issue like hers was not one worth busying over. Instead, she silently into another room and resumed her meditation. This focus would bring her mind off the pain and agony, and instead upon the extent that she could grasp the force. It was very little, and she needed to truly be able to understand its depths before she ran into greater dangers. Darkness was out there, and she knew it all too well. Imperial or Rebellion, it mattered not.</s>
<\|description\|>Ja'vi Harkan Species: Twi'lek Age: 25 Planet of Origin/Birth: Unknown, she doesn't remember. Force Sensitive Y/N: Yes Appearance: (Training Lightsaber is Defunct and hidden.) Skills/Abilities:-Healer- Although she is not a masterful user of the Force compared to even a Padawan, Ja'van is able to use it to help hasten the healing of injuries or slowing the rate by which they cause death. Enabling her to buy time to save lives. -Ja'vi be Nimble, Ja'vi be Quick- Being a creature that is slender and light of feet, she is quite skilled in acrobatic feats. She treads lightly, and is adept in being stealthy and sticking to the shadows in patience waiting for a vulnerability to take advantage of. -Speeder Bike Pilot- With the uncanny reactivity that force sensitivity has given her, Ja'vi is an insanely skilled Speeder Bike pilot. -Still Learning the Ways - After abandoning Coruscant and escaping to the outer-rim to try and find and aid rebels, she has restarted the meditations she had came to know as a youngling. It has granted her extremely limited use of the force in the form of slight increases to reaction time and the ability to move small objects with the Force. Though she would only ever use it in the case of a truly dire emergency as it tends to get her noticed more than she'd like. -Quick Wits that Stay Steady- Even though she is not very practiced on the field of battle, she has the uncanny ability to stay cool under significant pressure. Whether it's the ability to think clearly while under fire and similar situations. -Small Arms Crack Shot- Having gained some practice while wandering the universe in search of the rebellion, Ja'vi has become quite a decent shot with some of the weapons. Particularly the pistol, as the Rifle often feels to cumbersome for her to like. -Duelist- Even though she hasn't had much practice with a Lightsaber, she's quite good with various kinds of blades due to her nimbleness and dexterity. She carries a pair of Vibro-Blades (short swords) on her back instead, of which she uses with great effectiveness in close quarters combat. With such fluidity is this, that those who have seen her fight in such a manner oft say that she moves like a Jedi. Equipment:- Blaster Pistol x 1 - Vibro Blades x 2 - Standard Issue Rebellion Helmet and Blaster Armor Psychological Profile:Calm and steady of mind. Benevolent, but strict. Ja'vi cares deeply for those that surround her and does her best to insure their well being. If someone hurts those she cares for however, her tendencies can swing into the outright defiant...or even ferocious. The Tranquility of the Light Side is hard to instill within her. History: Her first memory was the hand of a strange looking man reaching down to her amongst blinding sunlight. As a child, she was swept up by the Jedi as a recruit during the horrors of the Clone Wars. They had discovered her to be rather credibly sensitive to the invisible will that governed the flow of life and will in the universe. Her midichlorian count was high, but not incredible akin to the masterfulness of Yoda, or the prodigal Anakin Skywalker. She was destined not to become a Master, she was destined to become a Knight. She was barely a youngling when the insidious Order 66 was issued. One of the very few fortunate enough to escape into the alleyways of Coruscant in the first few minutes of the Great Purge, Ja'vi lived a fearful life that was constantly on the run until she found someone who took pity on her. A Doctor, a kind, benevolent man who had taken The Doctor's Oath in ages past. He hid her away from those who hunted her, fulfilling the oath that he held concerning helping those in need. She lived in hiding then for many years until her adoptive father decided that it would be safer for them to move to the outer rim. On the way there, she was separated from him in an unfortunate accident. From then on as a young teenaged girl living on the outer rim, she lived a life of risk and danger of falling into enslavement; until one day she won a Speeder Bike from an unwitting man in a game of chance. This was the moment that she discovered her knack for such a task. Tearing through jungles and oft escaping death by mere hairs of a distance, the nimble girl took her talents to blurring past on-planet outposts of Imperial Guards as a small-time smuggler of small, insanely valuable and illicit goods. So competent was she in this, that as she grew older, the former Youngling eventually obtained the attention of the Rebellion. They sought her for her ability to sneak past or outrun those who pursued her. And one day, she awoke not in the hovel of her hideout, but instead a eerily quite and cold chamber with a bag over her head. Once she stirred, it was removed, and she was suddenly face to face with members of the Rebellion. More than willingly for the sins cast upon her from the past, she joined their cause. Thankfully they did not know what she actually was, and they paid fairly well. Through basic training she never fared well, except for in the close-quarters setting of combat. There she became known as a monstrosity. Not much longer, the former youngling would find herself on the front lines of a messy, bloody conflict; and she was more than willing to put her blades to work. Yes, and:This is a bit of a writing exercise; how your character relates to the character posted above yours. It should be something incidental, and can easily involve antipathies and disagreements. It's almost like a 'how they met' sort of exercise.</s> <\|message\|>Saleen Re'Revoure "A jedi?" Saleen said as she cocked her head slightly to the side, taking a moment to simply stare at the twi'lek. Although Ja'vi had originally met her with a sudden and harsh glare that was most unusual for the normally stoic alien, she now looked to be literally pleading with her eyes. Her eyes had grown almost to resemble that of puppy eyes, and Saleen felt that she was dangerously close to almost feeling genuine sympathy for the twi'lek! "Please, you cannot tell a soul!" Saleen gazed back at Ja'vi, whilst moving a hand up to rub her jaw as she contemplated the matter. "Well, at least I finally got her to talk!" She was not unfamiliar with the concept of jedi. Indeed, she had seen them in countless movies and video games back on her time during Coruscant, and even seen some on the street. That was at least until the new government had stepped in, and orchestrated something not far off from a holocaust against their order. She had never actually met a jedi face to face. The idea that she was now talking to one was both cool, and at the same time, a little worrisome! Jedi were known for their dangerous lightsabers capable of slicing through any material, as well as wicked mind powers with which they could wreathe unfathomable destruction. "Maaaaaybe I shouldn't be standing so close to this one! I mean, if she should turn hostile... !" "I am going to assume that the thing you're trying to hide from me was a lightsaber, wasn't it?" Saleen asked with a slight smirk on her face as she gently nodded towards the twi'lek's clothes where she had last seen the cylindrical device. Tossing the door behind her a quick glance to see if it was shut, Saleen would look back at the twi'lek with a small smile. "Can I see it?"</s> <\|message\|>Slooga Besadii Nem'ro Captain (Navy) Probos Hud was the new G-3 for Vanguard, replacing his rather more complacent predecessor after the latter's relief, and the sectors it operated out of, which was roughly the region between Ziost and Jabiim, with a broad mandate to disrupt whatever he could with the limited forces available to his command. The most important element of that mandate was to do whatever it took to prevent Mon Calamari, the planet that provided the Alliance's best shipyards, from direct attack or at least to make the theoretical supply lines for such an attack look too daunting to undertake. So he wasn't impressed when a Captain (Army) Ornestes of Alliance Intelligence was briefing him on a botched mission involving one of his ships having to cut and run real fast from a Victory-class star destroyer that lay in waiting -- his forces, to the mind of the Duros, were supposed to be the ones with the element of surprise. "Captain, I will make this clear," Hud told him in the straightforward way the Duros tended to have, the confidence of being one of the first starfaring races, "My predecessor was slack and sat on his ass and was happy to detach forces to your operations. I am not. I need every swinging tentacle in my command to carry out -my- operations. Also, that Ganatoo station mission was a wash on all fronts -- it was only because one Lieutenant Byron sent out a separate team to tap the traffic control at the same time that they were running this funny Hutt deal, acting like a palace guard for a washed-up crime lord, that my forces managed to discover the threat and got out." "Be that as it may," Ornestes started. "Please sit, Captain," Hud ordered/requested, "And allow me to explain the facts of life." Ornestes, who was something like three grades beneath a Navy captain, did so. It was hard to read Duros expressions, at least for a human, because they were blue-faced, golden-eyed and had no noses. It took a person experienced with their expressions to really read them. All the same, they were not some provincial species -- the Duros were far-flung, with colonies all over the galaxy, and their homeworld in the core. They often acted like they invented the hyperdrive, and certainly loved to make use of it. "All Intelligence requests for my forces will be routed through me. The plans will be submitted to me. They will be vetted by myself and my staff before the forces you require are given their orders. I agree that uploading virii into the Imperial traffic control computers is a useful mission and will put my chop on it when I see an appropriate plan. By 'appropriate' I mean any plan that does not involve that Hutt." "But sir, Slooga..." "Is washed up and has a price on his head big enough for his former contacts to turn on him. He's not really a powerful Hutt Lord anymore. I am reliably informed that his ship is in the alliance with or without him. For the sake of appearances, we'll keep Slooga because he might be useful in the future, but have no illusions, Captain, we are not here to facilitate his grandiose plans of a return to glory. We're here to fight the Empire." "Yes sir," Ornestes said, somewhat stiffly, "I understand." "Good, now I'd like to turn your attention," he hit a button and the room darkened and a holodisplay came up, "to this; Operation Bantha Poacher." The Intruder, a squadron of Y-Wings, Buccaneer squadron, and, of course, 1st Platoon in the vanguard...</s>	<\|message\|>Ja'vi Harkan Ja'vi - Show and Tell? Behind her set jaw, there was a sense of worry that lingered in the corner of her mind. Was this woman going to report her or not? Instead of hated and suspicion that she thought would be there, the Twi'lek was met with something else entirely; something that she didn't expect. There was curiosity. Whether or not it was genuine was another matter, but the woman wanted to see something that she had kept hidden from so many. Yet with her inquiry came a slight, weary smile from Ja'vi. It wasn't as if she had a choice now in this moment, she had to take the chance with this woman. Otherwise, the consequences could even be more dire. Reaching into her loose-fitting robes, she retrieved the long, slender device. Carefully, she set it into Saleen's outstretched hand for her to inspect it. "It isn't a full-fledged saber." The former youngling softly stated, looking upward at the behemoth of a human woman. "It was only a training saber from my days as an initiate, nothing more. Even still, it's dysfunctional and broken. With a new gem I could make an actual Lightsaber...but that is proving to be a task beyond my ability." Once Saleen had held it long enough to make the Twi'lek nervous, she lightly plucked it away from the grasp of the human and tucked it back away beneath her clothing. "It...it doesn't matter. I'm simply here to help the rebellion as best as I can. That is all that matters. Shall we move on?" Motioning for the human to follow, she gracefully strode through the corridors of the Intruder to arrive at the ship's armory. There, she would scavenge through the last of the spare parts that had been retrieved. More particularly, a newer battery for her blaster pistol. She had never been a fan of rifles or heavier weapons. Too heavy, too cumbersome, and too showy. She preferred subtlety for a reason, after all. Blades rather than blasters, even her pistol was more of a last support. If only she could find a smaller, compact power source for her other work in progress...</s>
<\|description\|>Alex Taylor Age: 14 Gender: Male Appearance: (Description or picture allowed): Red Hair, wears a hat. Has a light color T-Shirt with a Red vest over it. Always wears Jeans and Sneakers when out. Starts Wearing Fingerless gloves after his time in the 12th Gunpla Battle Tournament. Average height for his age, so he'd be shorter than those who are older than him. Nationality: United States of America Backstory: Born in the West coast of America, Alex Taylor had been a fan of Gundam since he had watched his first Gundam Series, Gundam SEED. When he was 9, after watching the 7th Gunpla Battle Tournament on TV, he had wanted to become a Gunpla Fighter and Builder, but had no idea what his first model will be. However, the next year, he had lost his Mother and Father in an accident, just days after obtaining his first model kit, an AGE-1 Normal Gundam from the series Gundam AGE. He was then cared for by a family that was friends with his parents, the same family that has his closest friend (and possible Girlfriend) Jo. By his 14th birthday, without proper tools, he was able to finish constructing his own custom unit from his kit he had received from his parents, the Star AGE Gundam. Despite not being well put together like other builders, he was able to take that unit all the way to victory in the 12th Gunpla Battle Tournament. His victory my be in due to a little help from his unique 6th sense he had developed after his first ever Gunpla Battle. Though victorious in the tournament, due to many close battles, he felt that he had still much to learn, and wouldn't be well known due to the exploits of other builders and fighters like the famous Meiji Kawaguchi and Sei Iori (who weren't at the tournament (based off what i know so far) ). He accepted an inventation to Yajima Tradings summer program at Neilsen Labs hoping to learn how to become both a better builder and better fighter, and to meet many other builders and become friends and rivals, taking the Star AGE Gundam with him. He'll often write home about his time there to his friend/girlfriend (He hasn't say yet). Other information: Seeing the modified GAT-X105 Strike Gundam custom, Sei Iori's Build Strike Gundam, Alex feels any basic unit can have a strong potential if piloted and built right, hence why he pilots a custom AGE-1 Normal. He has a soft weak spot for pretty girls, but he doesn't let this get over him if he's battling them in Gunpla Battle. Also he states that his favorite female character in the gundam series is Lacus Clyne from Gundam SEED. Main Gunpla: St/AGE-1 Star AGE Gundam. Can add on equipment to become the St/AGE-1FGA Star AGE Gundam: Full Glansa Assault Scale: 1/144 HG + Scratch Based from: AGE-1 Normal and AGE-1G Glansa Equipment and Weapons: Star AGE Gundam: DODS Rifle, 2x Beam Sabers, Anti-Beam Shield, Forward Swept Wing flight pack, "Starlight" Program. Star AGE Gundam Full Glansa Assault: Twin Shield Rifles, DODS Rifle, Beam Rifle Ax, 2x Beam Sabers, Twin Glansa Launchers, Twin High Impulse Cannons, 6 Glansa Armor missile pods, Twin 3 missile pod launchers, Glansa Armor (can detach to form standard Star AGE Gundam), "Starlight" Program. If you have a picture, feel free to post it up. St/AGE-1 Star AGE Gundam St/AGE-1FGA Star AGE Gundam: Full Glansa Assault Other Gunpla: RX-79T [G] Terra Gundam Ground Type, New model planned later in RP</s> <\|message\|>Alex Taylor Space… the sight of the next battlefield. Ships from both factions of the Earth Federation of the Universal Century and ships of the Orb Union of Gundam SEED fire up a massive anti air battery towards their enemy. Multiple GM's and M1 Astray's were trying to advance forward, but some retreat and then a few had been shot from behind and destroyed. Soon one of the alliances Izumo-class main ships was destroyed when it took a direct hit to the bridge. Then a Salamis-class ship takes heavy damage from multiple missiles. An officer cries on the radio: "The enemy has broken through the 2nd defense line! They're going to overrun us!" The cries cut out when the Salamis explodes. Multiple enemy mobile suits, Geara Zulu's, slowly push in towards the final defensive line. One admiral calls out on the radio: "Send out the reinforcements! Contact the White Base!" Pulling out from behind the final defensive line were two ships, the ever famous White Base from Mobile Suit Gundam, and the Archangel from Mobile Suit Gundam SEED. Captain Bright Noa comes onto the radio: "This is Captain Bright Noa. Request acknowledge. Launching the reinforcements!" Both launch bays on the two ships open up, sending out their suits. Two suits that came out of the White Base that were most notable were the Exia and the Musha Gundam. From the Archangle, a Brave suit launches out. The last suit is preparing to launch out of the catapult. The captain of the Archangel, Murrue Ramius, contacts the pilot of the suit: "Our forces are spread thin. We're counting on you and your team to push the enemy back." The pilot, wearing the Orb pilot outfit that Kira Yamato wore in Gundam SEED Destiny, responds: "Not to worry Captain Ramius, you can count on the Gundam Team." The catapult's countdown turns green, ready to launch as the pilot reveals himself responding: "Alex Taylor. Star AGE Gundam. LAUNCHING NOW!" The Gundam accelerates on the catapult till it flies out into open space. The suit flies towards the enemy's attack force, firing off a few rounds from its DODS rifle, taking out several Geara Zulu's. The other units were quickly and easily taking out the other enemy Zulu suits. Alex gets the allies attention: "All units regroup! We're taking the fight to the enemy!" GM's and Astray's all-around rally towards the 4 suits leading the charge. It looked like they were gonna push back the attack. Alex talks to himself: "Now to find the enemy commander of the attack. Where could he…" Suddenly, something big starts to slowly rise up, blocking the sun in front of the pilots. It was shadowed well so it was hard to see what it was exactly. Alex was shocked: "What in the world is that??" He heard one thing that made him worry more: "HARO!!!" Alex: "What's going on?! Captain? Can anyone hear me?!" Before he could wonder what was going on, his suit's alarm rings, alerting him to above, which was a giant hand coming towards him. Alex eyes sink as well as his heart. Then…. Alex cries out: "GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!" Thud! Next thing Alex knew… he had fallen out of his bed, flat on his back onto the ground. After falling onto the floor, his elbow had hit the desk next to his bed, knocking over a round object... a Haro alarm clock. The second after it landed, 8:00 AM strikes, and the Haro acts up: "Haro! Good Morning Haro! Time to get up! Time to get up!" Alex quietly says with a bit of an annoyed tone: "Thanks Haro…" Chapter 2: Straight assembly skills.</s> <\|message\|>Rou Gernot/Ball Guy Rou groaned loudly and began tossing anything nearby at the fiendish sound. "Alex turn that thing OFF!" he mumbled as he lazily rolled off the side of the bed. He kicked off the sweatpants he slept in and put on a pair of jeans before putting on a bright and tacky Tokusou Sentai Dekranger shirt. Rou sat on the bed and adjusted his hat on top of his head. "What's the plan today, Alex?" He said amidst a yawn.</s> <\|message\|>Alexis Voll Alexis slept well enough, and when she awoke she got dressed and ready for class, tucking her Exia away in the hip mounted carrying case she'd been using since she started battling seriously. The Strike Freedom, while repaired, and even tuned a bit, was not something she wanted to use regularly, besides, she wanted to cut lose with her 'partner' in the next battle, when ever that was gonna be.</s> <\|message\|>Alex Taylor All Alex did was groan. The PA system rings with a morning tone followed by an announcement: "Good Morning everyone. The mess hall is now open for breakfast. And remember, Class starts at 10:00 AM."</s> <\|message\|>Sakuya Kawashiro Sakuya yawned as she stretched once more she was already out and at it. Despite everything she woke up early to get some extra work done on her gunpla. Looking down at her Seravee she smirked her partner through thick and thin and with the recent upgrades it should be better than ever. Pushing up her rimless glasses and standing up she stretched a bit pulling up her thigh high light purple socks she straightened out her clothes before slipping on her Tieria jacket. It made her only look more like said character sure but she didn't mind after all the mere fact she looked like a female Tieria normally got most gundam fans over the top about it. Lifting up a small suit case she opened it up revealing a padded foam covering it. She gently placed her Seravee Panzer into its spot before looking a bit sadly at the spot next to it. Lying there was a modified Gerbera Tetra it was badly damaged but for some reason she could not bring herself to fix it just yet though underneath was a hidden gunpla one she did not want to really show. Shaking those thoughts from her head she quietly closed the case perhaps she could get a small match in she woke up early to fix her gunpla missing the last set of matches because of such but now it was time to shine she thought. "The lightning count" was what they called her basing her strategies and fighting style similar to Milliardo. Perhaps it was time to show them that she was not as "washed out" or "dead" as they claimed. Though hearing the news for breakfast broke that chain of thought as she went to the mess hall for some food. Perhaps this time she could actually find someone to interact with she thought. While she went to the line and waited for her turn to get her breakfast. Grabbing her breakfast of corned beef hash with toast and eggs she sat down with a bottle of orange juice as she went to eat. Though she did place her gunpla case on the table besides her. Best to keep it in sight than misplace it was her main train of thought as she noticed more people filing in for food.</s> <\|message\|>Rou Gernot/Ball Guy Rou grabbed his backpack and hastily threw in his Ball Guy outfit before Alex could see. He packed in his Brave in one case and his Balls in another. All his tools were in order as he shouldered his bag. Rou left the room and headed for the breakfast hall. He wasn't going to eat anything. If not for the academy schedule he wouldn't even be awake until it was time for a late lunch. Day Two of his quest to become a more social butterfly dawned on him, and he scanned the room for anyone he could make an acquaintance to. Immediately his eye for the strange spotted him a girl sporting a style very similar to Tiera from Gundam 00. Go big or go home. Rou sat down in front of her, setting his bag next to his foot. He exhaled and prepared himself by clearing his throat. "Um. Hi. I don't think I saw you at the opening ceremony or in the battle room yesterday." Rou paused, catching himself and nervously adjusting his hat. "I'm Rou...by the way. Is that your Gunpla?" He said motioning towards the case.</s> <\|message\|>Alexis Voll Alexis walked into the mess hall, not really hungry, but was best to eat something to keep hunger from getting in the way later. As she looked around while crunching into an apple she saw, Tiera? Likely some girl cosplaying as him. Not a bad rendition of him ether. Alexis tossed the apple core into the trash, loaded up a plate of hash-browns and scrambled eggs and bacon, she thought about going over and talking to the fellow 00 fan, but some one else was already talking to her, so Alexis decided to not be rude and found a seat and start eating.</s>	<\|message\|>Alex Taylor For Alex, the morning is evil. He had always slept in during the morning, hence why he was almost late everytime he had to go to school. Were it not for Jo, he'd really be late. However, if he wanted breakfast, he had to go get it. There were many people in the room, familiar and unfamiliar, however he was too tired to figure out who he knew. So far it was the third day here at the academy. Yesterday, the classes were just brief explanations about what they were going to do and how the system worked, followed by lunch. All the classmates had to also fill out a form with a question asking: "What Gunpla model would they like to build that was straight forward?", and that's it. For the rest of that day, Alex did nothing but play a few Gunpla battles with others. Two fights he had won, but they were pretty close, and he had not activated his Star AGE Gundam's "Starlight" program. He had not seen this cosplay guy that Rou and some others had mentioned, but that was likely due to having done a few sparring battles with his roommate and his Brave Gunpla. They must have battled about half a dozen times, and each one ended in a draw due to the time limit. So much time had passed that he didn't get a chance to go get snacks at the convenient store. Well there's always today. However, he wasn't thinking too much about what'll happen today, he's just too busy trying to stay awake. Hopefully a plate of some scrambled eggs, Buttermilk pancakes and a cup of Apple Juice would help get his energy. Though he didn't realize someone had come up to him.</s>
<\|description\|>Alex Taylor Age: 14 Gender: Male Appearance: (Description or picture allowed): Red Hair, wears a hat. Has a light color T-Shirt with a Red vest over it. Always wears Jeans and Sneakers when out. Starts Wearing Fingerless gloves after his time in the 12th Gunpla Battle Tournament. Average height for his age, so he'd be shorter than those who are older than him. Nationality: United States of America Backstory: Born in the West coast of America, Alex Taylor had been a fan of Gundam since he had watched his first Gundam Series, Gundam SEED. When he was 9, after watching the 7th Gunpla Battle Tournament on TV, he had wanted to become a Gunpla Fighter and Builder, but had no idea what his first model will be. However, the next year, he had lost his Mother and Father in an accident, just days after obtaining his first model kit, an AGE-1 Normal Gundam from the series Gundam AGE. He was then cared for by a family that was friends with his parents, the same family that has his closest friend (and possible Girlfriend) Jo. By his 14th birthday, without proper tools, he was able to finish constructing his own custom unit from his kit he had received from his parents, the Star AGE Gundam. Despite not being well put together like other builders, he was able to take that unit all the way to victory in the 12th Gunpla Battle Tournament. His victory my be in due to a little help from his unique 6th sense he had developed after his first ever Gunpla Battle. Though victorious in the tournament, due to many close battles, he felt that he had still much to learn, and wouldn't be well known due to the exploits of other builders and fighters like the famous Meiji Kawaguchi and Sei Iori (who weren't at the tournament (based off what i know so far) ). He accepted an inventation to Yajima Tradings summer program at Neilsen Labs hoping to learn how to become both a better builder and better fighter, and to meet many other builders and become friends and rivals, taking the Star AGE Gundam with him. He'll often write home about his time there to his friend/girlfriend (He hasn't say yet). Other information: Seeing the modified GAT-X105 Strike Gundam custom, Sei Iori's Build Strike Gundam, Alex feels any basic unit can have a strong potential if piloted and built right, hence why he pilots a custom AGE-1 Normal. He has a soft weak spot for pretty girls, but he doesn't let this get over him if he's battling them in Gunpla Battle. Also he states that his favorite female character in the gundam series is Lacus Clyne from Gundam SEED. Main Gunpla: St/AGE-1 Star AGE Gundam. Can add on equipment to become the St/AGE-1FGA Star AGE Gundam: Full Glansa Assault Scale: 1/144 HG + Scratch Based from: AGE-1 Normal and AGE-1G Glansa Equipment and Weapons: Star AGE Gundam: DODS Rifle, 2x Beam Sabers, Anti-Beam Shield, Forward Swept Wing flight pack, "Starlight" Program. Star AGE Gundam Full Glansa Assault: Twin Shield Rifles, DODS Rifle, Beam Rifle Ax, 2x Beam Sabers, Twin Glansa Launchers, Twin High Impulse Cannons, 6 Glansa Armor missile pods, Twin 3 missile pod launchers, Glansa Armor (can detach to form standard Star AGE Gundam), "Starlight" Program. If you have a picture, feel free to post it up. St/AGE-1 Star AGE Gundam St/AGE-1FGA Star AGE Gundam: Full Glansa Assault Other Gunpla: RX-79T [G] Terra Gundam Ground Type, New model planned later in RP</s> <\|message\|>Alex Taylor Alex was getting excited, thinking about what her mainstay was: "I'll be looking forward to that day." Right then, the clock struck 10:00. The door near the front opens up, and in comes Instructor Ran, he was shorter than the other instructors for sure, but he would have that look on his face that showed fierce determination when talking about Gunpla Building. He stands behind the main desk and begins: "Good morning students. I'm glad to see you are all here on time. For those who had breakfast late and brought food, not to worry, you are allowed to eat anything as long as it doesn't disrupt the class or your work." Alex thought in his mind: "Being able to eat while in class. Best. Class. Ever." Ran continues: "As you know, yesterday we just went through a brief run through of how this class will work. Today, we will begin with the first lesson related to Gunpla. Building the model. Now, if you recall, yesterday you had filled out a form asking about what model you would like to build if had one. Thanks to the nearby model store for donating supplies..." He motions to the door, which slides open and Instructor Johnson walks in, pushing a cart filled with dozens upon dozens of Gunpla boxes as Ran continues: "We have gotten every model that was requested by you. As of today, these kits belong to you. You must take very good care of them and will be constantly evaluated throughout the course of the academy." Some of the students were whispering, some were surprised. Others like Alexis however were aware about something like this since yesterday. One of the student's raised their hand asking: "Are we allowed to modify anything, like add equipment and such." Ran knew someone would ask that and answers: "The answer, is a big N-O. No. The models here are intended to be built straight from the box. You can only equip the model with equipment that came in the box. Anything added on that is not in the original model, and the builder will flunk this part of the course." Most of the students all replied with: "WHAT?!" They weren't expecting this at all. The instructor knew he would have to better explain this: "This is all necessary for becoming better builders, and in turn it will help you become better fighters. For some of you, you do have plenty of experience with model building. For others, this is a chance to relearn what you have learned, with secrets and tips that we will share to make what comes out of the box, more appealing. Sometimes it takes just the smallest tune of the poly cap or sanding down parts that will make all the difference." Another students decides to ask: "Are we allowed to custom paint them?" Ran looks at Johnson, and both nod as Johnson decides to answer: "After today, you are allowed to custom color the units as long as you follow the rule of not adding any new equipment." Ran then continues: "Now, we will start by passing out everyone's Gunpla kits. Each box will have your name written on the side." With that, Ran and Johnson begin passing out kits to the students. The models were all over the series, with those from Mobile Suit Gundam, to Gundam Wing, 00 Gundam, Gundam Unicorn, Victory Gundam, G Gundam, Gundam SEED, and Zeta Gundam. You named it, there was likely a suit from it in the pile.</s> <\|message\|>Dani Hatashi Dani had only a few bites left of her sandwich but cleared out her mouth of the food by swallowing again. She held up her hand with a question. "The model trees that the parts come off of, are we allowed to use them in the kit? And second questions: Why are we not allowed to modify them? The Meijin's own stance on Gunpla is that 'Gunpla is freedom'. I understand the values of just doing a straight build, but there becomes a point where any gunpla builder that competes in the championship will modify their gunpla in the slightest to accomodate personal fighting style and taste. If it truly is our gunpla that we live through, then why must we mold ourselves to stone designs and comprimise what our style might be instead of reaching amidway point with the model? Even after some time in the class, there has to be a point where we can modify them and allow us to be graded upon what we have done to improve the suit beyond its own capabilities. Respectfully ofcourse." she commented, taking a breath after finishing her wall of words. "This also isn't to forget the abilities of such gunpla that possess the AGE system, which itself is almost vital to the sucess of the gunpla, since the gunpla itself is developing equipment to suit its current needs. In that respect, one could say adding equipment to an age gundam would simply be following the model's own design." The girl added quickly.</s> <\|message\|>Alexis Voll As Dani went on her tangent, Alexis got up to go collect ... what ever kit it was she wrote down. She literally had no idea what she wrote down, so when she got to her turn and the teachers aid handed her an RG Wing Zero Custom she was a little surprised. Kit in hand she went back to her seat. "Apparently ... I picked Wing Zero." she said as she showed the box with the angelic Gundam to Dani.</s> <\|message\|>Sakuya Kawashiro Sakuya heard all of the murmers from the crowed and as she thought about it from one standpoint it made sense it would allow them to gain better control and knowledge on limited items and so forth. Though also going by that they also limit the growth of a person as a builder and a fighter. "Sir I dont mean to speak up but doing this seems counter productive. I admit using a straight build has its benefits though it also limits the fighter. Gunpla should grow and change along with pilot as they learn what works and what doesn't they learn the limits of their gunpla and as such will try to reach out more. Which they do through modification of the gunpla adding to it and losing pieces all the while making it more in tune with the pilot." Sakuya spoke up it was honestly bothering a little bit though as she grabbed her model box of the XM-X1 Crossbone Gundam X-1 Kai Kai "Skull Heart" otherwise known as the Crossbone Gundam Full Cloth. This was her personal favorite gundam it was fast and with good defense not to mention its main weapons were designed for multiple situations allowing it to cover all main fields since it could attack with both short range and long range.</s> <\|message\|>Alex Taylor The class was nearly quiet till Johnson starts to talk: "Well Ms. Hatashi, you are indeed right. Gunpla is freedom. No doubt you take the ideas passed by the Meijin. I know what we ask for you, for all of you to do may be something you're not used to. However, just by having a unit that goes beyond the limits of imagination, does not mean you are always guaranteed for success in battle." This was based on personal experience the two had encountered. A while back, they had witnessed a fight where one piloted used an HG model of a Geara Zulu, just straight built and nothing added on, and it fought two customized units from the After War Gundam X timeline... and the Zulu defeated both opponents without much damage to it. Taking the boy who won under their wing, teaching some hidden tricks, training with time in straight assembly units and soon combining it with a Gunpla he would later customized, he was nearly invincible. Even Alex was aware of how the slightest changes could improve performance, since he had fought most of his battles with his Star AGE gundam being almost nothing more than a recolored AGE-1 Normal. Even after adding both the Starlight program and also the Glansa armor, the AGE was still technically close to being a straight assembly model. Ran explains as well: "But not everything ever goes perfect. Anything that could possibly go wrong will go wrong, and that's when you must trust on the skills you have yourself, but if you trust on the equipment too much, that will cause you to fail. We should know. After all, we saw a straight assembly model of a Geara Zulu take on two custom Gundams from the Gundam X series, and defeat them both with only light damage to the suit."</s> <\|message\|>Dani Hatashi "With all due respect sensei, that's a fallacy you're using to defend your point with your experience. All number of factors go into winning a battle, a suit's quality is one thing and so is a fighter's capabilities, field being another and so on and so forth. Skills in battle can carry you with a straight build and that is acceptable to some people. Others love Gunpla for what it is and how you can express yourself with it, which brings me to my next point." she explained to the teachers. This is when she put her chair into motion and drove across the room to fetch her Victory 2 Buster Assault gundam. Then she drove her wheelchair back across the room and to her position before resuming her comment. "Now i never claimed that it could bring success just because it was custom, my concern is that, much echoing the other female who spoke after myself, that the best results come from being as closely in tune with your gunpla as possible so that you know every movement and inch of it without having to consciously conform to it." Hatashi explained, gingerly setting down the box. "I will say this and swear by it. If i fight you with this straight build, either of you two professors, you won't feel much. But the second Block is on the field, you will find my heart and soul in that gunpla. It is exactly in the image i want it to be and i only see myself out there on the field, fighting the others. I may have lost my ability to walk a few years ago, but i've found and now live gunpla out on the field and even in the heat of battle. I can express my feelings, emotions, desires and walk out there." the girl continued on in her speech as her eyes had fires roaring behind them now. "So unless you love those straight build gunpla as much as yourself or your own children, i challenge you to try and defeat my spirit the gunpla i built brings to the field." she said, putting a fist to her chest and over her own heart in her determination and solidity. "My offer is open any time."</s> <\|message\|>Alexis Voll Alexis snickered "Oh I'd paid money to see the looks on those guys faces." she commented as she pushed her glasses up and started going over the parts trees and instructions. "And speaking form my own experiences, skill is much more likely to get you the win then some fancy gimmick. or gimmicks, in some cases." she added to the instructors point. With all the parts accounted for she put the bottom in the lid, with the lid facing down so she could start grabbing parts once they could start building.</s>	<\|message\|>Alex Taylor All Ran replied was: "I believe you're going to fit in quiet well here Ms. Hatashi." Alex went over to pick up his box. As he turns, Instrustor Ran whispers to him: "You can learn a lot from her. As I'm sure she can learn from you Mr. Taylor." Alex was a bit confused on what he mean by that, but heads back over to the desk. With the models gathered, Ran continued: "Alright. At each of your desks, you have all the basic tools you'll need to help put together your models. You also will have some more advanced tools for those who are better skilled with putting together Gunpla. If you need anything, just call, and one of us will come over to help out. Take all the time you need to put together your model." Alex sits down back at his seat and asks: "So what did you two get for models?"</s>
<\|description\|>Rou Gernot/Ball Guy Age: 17 Gender: M Appearance: Normal: Rou wears a large black Kamen Rider baseball cap that shades his green eyes and makes his black shaggy hair fan out to shoulder length. He often forgets to shave. He wears a short sleeved button up shirt that is usually left open to show whatever Toku/Anime shirt he has chosen to wear for the day. His light blue jeans are a little stained and torn, but still decent. Ball Guy: Rou's alter ego is modeled after his Toku heroes. Ball Guy's outfit consists of a stark white spandex suit and a plastic helmet that sports a red hexagon and a green opaque visor. On top of the helmet is a small pair of mini turret "antennas". Nationality: American Backstory: All his life Rou has loved Tokusatsu heroes and giant robots, especially combiners. He began collecting Super Sentai robots, gunpla and merchandise when he was 8 and his collection is still growing. He can quote Riders, sing theme songs, and name any mobile suit. However, his biggest problem is that he can rarely discuss his hobbies due to his timidness. This was onset by his first gunpla battle at the local hobby shop. Rou built a simple GM to test the waters of the new game. He was stomped and ridiculed for his inexperience, and quickly left the shop and never returned. He longed for companions to help him. Better yet, a team. Despite his trepidation, he attempted to find friends at a different hobby shop. He laid low, but no one really stood out to him. Rou began to only fight matches in private, fearing what the audience would say about his skills. Struggling to overcome his fear of confrontation and people, Rou discovered that he wasn't too timid if the opponent didn't know who he was. He began planning a cosplay suit to hide his identity, but could not seem to fathom what mobile suit to base it from. Rou surveyed his shelf. He wanted something simple. Zaku? Nah, cliche. BCUE? Too animalistic. His eyes finally rested on something he constantly over looked. The quaint little cannon fodder known as the Ball. It was perfect. Rou's skills were good enough that he could hold his own with such a puny gunpla, ad it fit his hero theme quite nicely. He finished his suit in a week and went to the shop. People stared, but no one knew who he actually was, and it made Rou feel so much more comfortable. "Ball Guy" was what they called him. He didn't win many matches, but he was well known and rather liked, even if he was just acting like a "gaudy super hero". Rou decided that a simple upgrade would not suffice. He needed something extra. Then it dawned on his. What about...extra balls? IF that was the case then he would need a Flash system, and that's something that an ordinary Ball wouldn't be able to handle. Rou brainstormed. Balls were what made him so renowned in his town, he couldn't just stop using one. He crafted for weeks and weeks until he found a solution. The transforming ball! he could still use the Flash system as a Gundam, but still look like a ball. Weeks later, his prototype was complete. In a private match he quickly lost ground, but once he transformed his Ball, his opponent dropped like a rock. Now he just needed to know how to use his backup Balls. Constantly controlling them would be tedious and require immense effort. As he wracked his brain, the Super Sentai show running in the back ground showed a scene of them calling their mecha together. It was miraculous, and it fit Rou's personality perfectly. He was going to make a Ball Sentai. He began winning his local matches, preferring to keep his Ball Squad's ability a secret. It was for only those eyes he thought deserving. Learning of his fame, he was invited to Neilsen Labs to participate, signing up under the guise "Ball Guy", to keep his identity a secret for just a little longer. The suit had become a crutch, but its ability to keep him calm in social situations was invaluable. Other information: Rou changes into costume before every match, or constantly wears it if expecting challenges. Main Gunpla: Round Sentai: Ball Squad!/DAI-BALL-OH! Scale: 1/144 Based from: Balls Equipment and Weapons: Fireworks hidden in the tubes of each Ball arm. (Gotta be flashy right?). When combined into a single unit, all attributes are increased due to combined power output and source. Brigadier Ball (Red Stripe): The Ball Rou Controls and uses to command his squad. It is capable of transforming into a Gundam-esque mobile suit to combine with the rest of the balls to form DAI-BALL-OH!. Chest can fire an extremely powerful beam when connected to the other Balls as power sources. Blade Ball (Blue Stripe): Right arm of DAI-BALL-OH!. Equipped with four beam beam sabers to be wielded. Unfoldable hand. Blaster Ball (Green Stripe): Left arm of DAI-BALL-OH!. Equipped with twin beam rifles. A hand folds out from underneath when attached. Bomb Ball (Yellow Stripe) Legs of DAI-BALL-OH!. Equipped with four tri missile pods, two on each side. Added support on bottom to be used as feet. Booster Ball (Pink Stripe): Unfolds to become the backpack and cape for DAI-BALL-OH!, very fast but otherwise useless in combat. Other Gunpla: Name: Brave Knight Based From: GNX- Brave Appearance: Silvery gray. Same basic format, but with some more regal additions like a thin cape and a knights visor on the face that hides the green mono eye and a green feather plume. The upper arms and legs have been beefed up. The Astray Tactical Arms serve as the backpack and as a weapon. Armaments: GN Lance (Thinner and longer) Beam Rapier Tactical Arms (Arm blades (3 pairs) and Bow mode) Wrist vulcans Feet daggers (Al-la Blue Frame) Beam Shield Royal Mode (Half strength Trans Am but double the duration) Flight mode</s> <\|message\|>Rou Gernot/Ball Guy Rou groaned loudly and began tossing anything nearby at the fiendish sound. "Alex turn that thing OFF!" he mumbled as he lazily rolled off the side of the bed. He kicked off the sweatpants he slept in and put on a pair of jeans before putting on a bright and tacky Tokusou Sentai Dekranger shirt. Rou sat on the bed and adjusted his hat on top of his head. "What's the plan today, Alex?" He said amidst a yawn.</s> <\|message\|>Alexis Voll Alexis slept well enough, and when she awoke she got dressed and ready for class, tucking her Exia away in the hip mounted carrying case she'd been using since she started battling seriously. The Strike Freedom, while repaired, and even tuned a bit, was not something she wanted to use regularly, besides, she wanted to cut lose with her 'partner' in the next battle, when ever that was gonna be.</s> <\|message\|>Alex Taylor All Alex did was groan. The PA system rings with a morning tone followed by an announcement: "Good Morning everyone. The mess hall is now open for breakfast. And remember, Class starts at 10:00 AM."</s> <\|message\|>Sakuya Kawashiro Sakuya yawned as she stretched once more she was already out and at it. Despite everything she woke up early to get some extra work done on her gunpla. Looking down at her Seravee she smirked her partner through thick and thin and with the recent upgrades it should be better than ever. Pushing up her rimless glasses and standing up she stretched a bit pulling up her thigh high light purple socks she straightened out her clothes before slipping on her Tieria jacket. It made her only look more like said character sure but she didn't mind after all the mere fact she looked like a female Tieria normally got most gundam fans over the top about it. Lifting up a small suit case she opened it up revealing a padded foam covering it. She gently placed her Seravee Panzer into its spot before looking a bit sadly at the spot next to it. Lying there was a modified Gerbera Tetra it was badly damaged but for some reason she could not bring herself to fix it just yet though underneath was a hidden gunpla one she did not want to really show. Shaking those thoughts from her head she quietly closed the case perhaps she could get a small match in she woke up early to fix her gunpla missing the last set of matches because of such but now it was time to shine she thought. "The lightning count" was what they called her basing her strategies and fighting style similar to Milliardo. Perhaps it was time to show them that she was not as "washed out" or "dead" as they claimed. Though hearing the news for breakfast broke that chain of thought as she went to the mess hall for some food. Perhaps this time she could actually find someone to interact with she thought. While she went to the line and waited for her turn to get her breakfast. Grabbing her breakfast of corned beef hash with toast and eggs she sat down with a bottle of orange juice as she went to eat. Though she did place her gunpla case on the table besides her. Best to keep it in sight than misplace it was her main train of thought as she noticed more people filing in for food.</s> <\|message\|>Rou Gernot/Ball Guy Rou grabbed his backpack and hastily threw in his Ball Guy outfit before Alex could see. He packed in his Brave in one case and his Balls in another. All his tools were in order as he shouldered his bag. Rou left the room and headed for the breakfast hall. He wasn't going to eat anything. If not for the academy schedule he wouldn't even be awake until it was time for a late lunch. Day Two of his quest to become a more social butterfly dawned on him, and he scanned the room for anyone he could make an acquaintance to. Immediately his eye for the strange spotted him a girl sporting a style very similar to Tiera from Gundam 00. Go big or go home. Rou sat down in front of her, setting his bag next to his foot. He exhaled and prepared himself by clearing his throat. "Um. Hi. I don't think I saw you at the opening ceremony or in the battle room yesterday." Rou paused, catching himself and nervously adjusting his hat. "I'm Rou...by the way. Is that your Gunpla?" He said motioning towards the case.</s> <\|message\|>Alexis Voll Alexis walked into the mess hall, not really hungry, but was best to eat something to keep hunger from getting in the way later. As she looked around while crunching into an apple she saw, Tiera? Likely some girl cosplaying as him. Not a bad rendition of him ether. Alexis tossed the apple core into the trash, loaded up a plate of hash-browns and scrambled eggs and bacon, she thought about going over and talking to the fellow 00 fan, but some one else was already talking to her, so Alexis decided to not be rude and found a seat and start eating.</s> <\|message\|>Alex Taylor For Alex, the morning is evil. He had always slept in during the morning, hence why he was almost late everytime he had to go to school. Were it not for Jo, he'd really be late. However, if he wanted breakfast, he had to go get it. There were many people in the room, familiar and unfamiliar, however he was too tired to figure out who he knew. So far it was the third day here at the academy. Yesterday, the classes were just brief explanations about what they were going to do and how the system worked, followed by lunch. All the classmates had to also fill out a form with a question asking: "What Gunpla model would they like to build that was straight forward?", and that's it. For the rest of that day, Alex did nothing but play a few Gunpla battles with others. Two fights he had won, but they were pretty close, and he had not activated his Star AGE Gundam's "Starlight" program. He had not seen this cosplay guy that Rou and some others had mentioned, but that was likely due to having done a few sparring battles with his roommate and his Brave Gunpla. They must have battled about half a dozen times, and each one ended in a draw due to the time limit. So much time had passed that he didn't get a chance to go get snacks at the convenient store. Well there's always today. However, he wasn't thinking too much about what'll happen today, he's just too busy trying to stay awake. Hopefully a plate of some scrambled eggs, Buttermilk pancakes and a cup of Apple Juice would help get his energy. Though he didn't realize someone had come up to him.</s> <\|message\|>Sakuya Kawashiro Looking up from her breakfast to see someone sitting in front of her. Looking up from her food she swallowed her bite and took a quick sip of her orange juice before answering. "My name is Sakuya Kawashiro its a pleasure to meet you" she said greeting herself before continuing on "Yah that is my gunpla" she said before pushing away her empty plate. Bringing her case closer to her she opened it up revealing her gunpla's inside "here they are my Seravee Panzer heavy assault and my other gunpla the gerbera tetra Kai though on the subject of the gerbera tetra I haven't repaired it yet since I personally feel like it's not the time to do so." She tried to explain though she was having a hard time getting the words to form exactly. "Perhaps later you get to see me in action was planning a quick match later with my seravee." She quickly added it was after all open for anyone to watch so perhaps he would catch her in action.</s>	<\|message\|>Rou Gernot/Ball Guy Rou nodded as Sakuya explained her Gunpla to him. "Awesome! The Seravee is my favorite out of Tiera's Gundams, even though I'm more of an Allelujah person..." He said as he mimicked the side swiped hair of the bipolar pilot. "Today however, I'm using my custom Brave Knight..." He said as he pulled the gleaming Gunpla out of its case. "Maybe sometime during our stay we can reenact some scenes from the anime."</s>
<\|description\|>Rou Gernot/Ball Guy Age: 17 Gender: M Appearance: Normal: Rou wears a large black Kamen Rider baseball cap that shades his green eyes and makes his black shaggy hair fan out to shoulder length. He often forgets to shave. He wears a short sleeved button up shirt that is usually left open to show whatever Toku/Anime shirt he has chosen to wear for the day. His light blue jeans are a little stained and torn, but still decent. Ball Guy: Rou's alter ego is modeled after his Toku heroes. Ball Guy's outfit consists of a stark white spandex suit and a plastic helmet that sports a red hexagon and a green opaque visor. On top of the helmet is a small pair of mini turret "antennas". Nationality: American Backstory: All his life Rou has loved Tokusatsu heroes and giant robots, especially combiners. He began collecting Super Sentai robots, gunpla and merchandise when he was 8 and his collection is still growing. He can quote Riders, sing theme songs, and name any mobile suit. However, his biggest problem is that he can rarely discuss his hobbies due to his timidness. This was onset by his first gunpla battle at the local hobby shop. Rou built a simple GM to test the waters of the new game. He was stomped and ridiculed for his inexperience, and quickly left the shop and never returned. He longed for companions to help him. Better yet, a team. Despite his trepidation, he attempted to find friends at a different hobby shop. He laid low, but no one really stood out to him. Rou began to only fight matches in private, fearing what the audience would say about his skills. Struggling to overcome his fear of confrontation and people, Rou discovered that he wasn't too timid if the opponent didn't know who he was. He began planning a cosplay suit to hide his identity, but could not seem to fathom what mobile suit to base it from. Rou surveyed his shelf. He wanted something simple. Zaku? Nah, cliche. BCUE? Too animalistic. His eyes finally rested on something he constantly over looked. The quaint little cannon fodder known as the Ball. It was perfect. Rou's skills were good enough that he could hold his own with such a puny gunpla, ad it fit his hero theme quite nicely. He finished his suit in a week and went to the shop. People stared, but no one knew who he actually was, and it made Rou feel so much more comfortable. "Ball Guy" was what they called him. He didn't win many matches, but he was well known and rather liked, even if he was just acting like a "gaudy super hero". Rou decided that a simple upgrade would not suffice. He needed something extra. Then it dawned on his. What about...extra balls? IF that was the case then he would need a Flash system, and that's something that an ordinary Ball wouldn't be able to handle. Rou brainstormed. Balls were what made him so renowned in his town, he couldn't just stop using one. He crafted for weeks and weeks until he found a solution. The transforming ball! he could still use the Flash system as a Gundam, but still look like a ball. Weeks later, his prototype was complete. In a private match he quickly lost ground, but once he transformed his Ball, his opponent dropped like a rock. Now he just needed to know how to use his backup Balls. Constantly controlling them would be tedious and require immense effort. As he wracked his brain, the Super Sentai show running in the back ground showed a scene of them calling their mecha together. It was miraculous, and it fit Rou's personality perfectly. He was going to make a Ball Sentai. He began winning his local matches, preferring to keep his Ball Squad's ability a secret. It was for only those eyes he thought deserving. Learning of his fame, he was invited to Neilsen Labs to participate, signing up under the guise "Ball Guy", to keep his identity a secret for just a little longer. The suit had become a crutch, but its ability to keep him calm in social situations was invaluable. Other information: Rou changes into costume before every match, or constantly wears it if expecting challenges. Main Gunpla: Round Sentai: Ball Squad!/DAI-BALL-OH! Scale: 1/144 Based from: Balls Equipment and Weapons: Fireworks hidden in the tubes of each Ball arm. (Gotta be flashy right?). When combined into a single unit, all attributes are increased due to combined power output and source. Brigadier Ball (Red Stripe): The Ball Rou Controls and uses to command his squad. It is capable of transforming into a Gundam-esque mobile suit to combine with the rest of the balls to form DAI-BALL-OH!. Chest can fire an extremely powerful beam when connected to the other Balls as power sources. Blade Ball (Blue Stripe): Right arm of DAI-BALL-OH!. Equipped with four beam beam sabers to be wielded. Unfoldable hand. Blaster Ball (Green Stripe): Left arm of DAI-BALL-OH!. Equipped with twin beam rifles. A hand folds out from underneath when attached. Bomb Ball (Yellow Stripe) Legs of DAI-BALL-OH!. Equipped with four tri missile pods, two on each side. Added support on bottom to be used as feet. Booster Ball (Pink Stripe): Unfolds to become the backpack and cape for DAI-BALL-OH!, very fast but otherwise useless in combat. Other Gunpla: Name: Brave Knight Based From: GNX- Brave Appearance: Silvery gray. Same basic format, but with some more regal additions like a thin cape and a knights visor on the face that hides the green mono eye and a green feather plume. The upper arms and legs have been beefed up. The Astray Tactical Arms serve as the backpack and as a weapon. Armaments: GN Lance (Thinner and longer) Beam Rapier Tactical Arms (Arm blades (3 pairs) and Bow mode) Wrist vulcans Feet daggers (Al-la Blue Frame) Beam Shield Royal Mode (Half strength Trans Am but double the duration) Flight mode</s> <\|message\|>Rou Gernot/Ball Guy Rou stood up and slammed his hands on the desk, startling everyone around him. "No no no no no no no no NO!" He yelled. "I know Gunpla originated from straight builds, but Gunpla battle thrives from creativity! I didn't come here to straight build like I did when I was 6. Gunpla is about freedom and expression, it's about evolving!" Rou exhaled and looked squarely at Ran. "You're telling me, I came to this class to build a Gunpla and paint it? The VERY BEGINNING stages of customization!" Rou picked up his special order for the class. "This Buster Gundam...it's a beautiful Mobile Suit. I love its base design..." Rou dropped the box and picked up his thick notebook. "But! Weapon Binders. Shotguns. Beam Cannons. Every weapon I could think of loading onto this Buster Gundam, are now moot designs." Rou was about to start rambling on about something else, but he cut himself short. "I'm gonna sit down before I make more of an ass of myself." He slumped back into his chair and crossed his arms as he pouted.</s> <\|message\|>Dani Hatashi decided to interrupt his rant there. "Victory has four beam sabers, a beam rifle, mega beamcannon, mega beam rifle, mega beam shield, two more shields flat out built into the arms, multi launcher, a spray beam pod and variable speed beam rifles. Not to mention it can travel to Jupiter from the moon in less than a week without using any of that teleporation mumbo jumbo. Alexis's wing over there can literally destroy an entire massive space rock gone space station with its main gun and can transform into a jet bird. You're no more special than anyone at the table, champ." she commented, done with one leg's rough assembly.</s> <\|message\|>Alex Taylor Alex realized he was going off track: "Oh sorry. I get lost when i express what i like." He didn't want to comment back about that champion bit she threw at him, cause he knew in his heart that he was not better than anyone else. And that would be shown when he looks at his kit and his tools and pauses. Alex: "... um... okay..." When he picks up the first runner that has the first piece mentioned in his manual, he was trying to place the cutter, but his hands were a bit shaky. Apparently when it came to Gunpla building, he did not have the most steady hands.</s> <\|message\|>Sakuya Kawashiro Sakuya was not happy that much was a fact. Sitting alone on her table she was able to spread the pieces out there was so much she wanted to do for this model. Though now it was moot point it seemed though she smirked when she heard Allelujah break out she agreed with him quite a bit but now was no the time to voice out. Looking back down at her work she was carefully building and sanding the pieces each one colored to the exact colors of the gundam. The stickers was placed neatly as well she was mad sure and angry but that did not excuse sloppy work. She started to sand down the torso of the gunpla since the legs was already done. "Hey Allelujah I understand that your mad and angry and I agree with you a hundred and ten percent but right now its time to retreat. Remember as a member celestial being we must stop all conflict not start it." she threw in talking to Rou and added the part of celestial being as a small easter egg she supposed.</s> <\|message\|>Dani Hatashi Dani stopped and watched him try to build. Taking note of his shakey hands, she guessed the kid was a great fighter since his gunpla assembly skills didn't seem top notch. The female let out a sigh and put down her tools. She rolled herself closer to him and grabbed his hands. "Take a few deep breaths and close your eyes, just focus on being calm and then cut a little bit away from the plastic of the part." she said, helping guide his hands to where they had to be. It also appeared that he didn't have much choice since he could tell that her hands and arms were more akin to the jaws of life than human body parts. She helped him clip a single part out, then showed him what to do. "You go in closer with the snippers the second time around, cutting it almost flush with the plastic, leaving a teeny tiny bit to sand down." she explained, still guiding his hands until the part was clipped down. Then the girl had him pick up sand paper before having him set to work grinding down the remaining stubs. "Good, now look at the part." she said, the one that she helped him with looking damn good.</s> <\|message\|>Rou Gernot/Ball Guy Rou grumbled and nodded as Sakuya told him to hush. She was, sadly, right about the situation. Rou looked at his kit, a very nice MG Buster Kit, one he had built a few years ago when it released. Today though, his skills were much sharper and keen, and he had become a great builder. In fact, building was his greatest strength. His supreme knowledge and confidence of his own creations were what made him deadly on the field. He emptied the runners out of the box and set to work, swiftly but carefully cutting and shaving nubs from the parts. Rou had a set in stone method for building. He built from the ground up. Legs, then waist, the torso, the arms and accessories, and finally attaching the head. Rou didn't build any other way. The Buster's feet and shins rapidly formed. Rou's concentration was unbreakable, for he was truly a monster at the cutting board.</s> <\|message\|>Alexis Voll "Ah ... the good Freedom, good suit. Better then it's 'Upgrade' anyway." Alexis said as Alex went off about it. She was about to comment on it when another kid flew off the hinges about the 'straight build only' thing. Another girl silenced him but she just rolled her eyes. "Apparently we have to many 'artists' and not enough 'warriors' in class" Alexis bemused really only loud enough for her table to hear her, though Dani pulling out her 'Block' caught her attention, it was really well built, but not 'over built' like a lot of customs where. "Well, since we're sharing ..." Alexis commented as she pulled her Gunpla carrier off her hip and after putting the GN Blades on its hips, set Exia on the table. The Suit it self was 'unremarkable' at a glance. It was clear from the paint, and lack of seems that Alexis put a lot of effort into making it look 'show accurate', save the white line stickers on the left shoulder and vent cover. The GN Blades, and GN Sword hinted it was more then that though, the way the light in the room reflected of them was like the way light reflects off of polished metal, not the shiny plastic the kit came with. Since others where starting Alexis followed suit, she figured they'd be on a timer but eh, oh well. Alexis started building Zero like every other kit she'd built, torso and waist first, then, what ever she felt like doing next. Past building the 'core' of the suit first she really had no set way of building, more over she didn't seem like she was in any hurry what with the way she leaned back and took the time to inspect the pieces before putting them together. Building was the 'relaxing' part of the hobby to her after all. "Oh, and, Dani, This is Wing Zero Custom. From the Endless Waltz OVA, it doesn't have the Neo Bird mode that Wing and Wing Zero have in the show. Just as fast though."</s> <\|message\|>Alex Taylor Alex was starting to understand better: "Ah. I get it. I'm sure that..." As he was cutting out the next piece, without holding onto the part well, as he cut the last gate/tree connecting to the part, it suddenly flings downward and bounces across the table: "Oops! I didn't mean to do that." As the class went by, tips were passed along that some who were still novice at building including to cut the trees slightly longer and then trim the excess off, more effective to make two cuts than one, carefully placing stickers on right due to losing adhesion and to use cotton swabs to help put them in place, along with checking the range and movement of the model so they would have a better understanding when in combat. For Alex, the tips given to him by Dani and the instructors did help him out in making the model starting to look better in quality, however, it did not help improve his speed too much. Around the time others were finishing their models, he had yet to start on the Freedom's legs. He was double checking to make sure he did not botch a step. But so far, it appeared the Freedom was very well put together, despite this being his 3rd model he ever built. On Kasumi's side, she was quiet most of the class. The model she had chosen was G Gundams GF13-017NJ Shining Gundam. It didn't take long for her to soon produce a well quality HG Shining Gundam. She was now applying on the panel marking with the marker. Johnson told the class at this point: "Next door, we have our battle systems up and running, ready to test your models in battle."</s>	<\|message\|>Rou Gernot/Ball Guy Rou sat back and observed his work. The MG Buster was a marvel to behold alright. The perfect mixture of tan, green, and red was beautiful. Every nub mark was invisible, every panel line was perfectly flushed with gray or black. Rou posed the Buster with its dual cannons and missile pods open, ready for battle. He looked over at Kasumi, who displayed a quite lovely Shining Gundam. Rou nodded approvingly. "Good choice." He said.</s>
<\|description\|>Rou Gernot/Ball Guy Age: 17 Gender: M Appearance: Normal: Rou wears a large black Kamen Rider baseball cap that shades his green eyes and makes his black shaggy hair fan out to shoulder length. He often forgets to shave. He wears a short sleeved button up shirt that is usually left open to show whatever Toku/Anime shirt he has chosen to wear for the day. His light blue jeans are a little stained and torn, but still decent. Ball Guy: Rou's alter ego is modeled after his Toku heroes. Ball Guy's outfit consists of a stark white spandex suit and a plastic helmet that sports a red hexagon and a green opaque visor. On top of the helmet is a small pair of mini turret "antennas". Nationality: American Backstory: All his life Rou has loved Tokusatsu heroes and giant robots, especially combiners. He began collecting Super Sentai robots, gunpla and merchandise when he was 8 and his collection is still growing. He can quote Riders, sing theme songs, and name any mobile suit. However, his biggest problem is that he can rarely discuss his hobbies due to his timidness. This was onset by his first gunpla battle at the local hobby shop. Rou built a simple GM to test the waters of the new game. He was stomped and ridiculed for his inexperience, and quickly left the shop and never returned. He longed for companions to help him. Better yet, a team. Despite his trepidation, he attempted to find friends at a different hobby shop. He laid low, but no one really stood out to him. Rou began to only fight matches in private, fearing what the audience would say about his skills. Struggling to overcome his fear of confrontation and people, Rou discovered that he wasn't too timid if the opponent didn't know who he was. He began planning a cosplay suit to hide his identity, but could not seem to fathom what mobile suit to base it from. Rou surveyed his shelf. He wanted something simple. Zaku? Nah, cliche. BCUE? Too animalistic. His eyes finally rested on something he constantly over looked. The quaint little cannon fodder known as the Ball. It was perfect. Rou's skills were good enough that he could hold his own with such a puny gunpla, ad it fit his hero theme quite nicely. He finished his suit in a week and went to the shop. People stared, but no one knew who he actually was, and it made Rou feel so much more comfortable. "Ball Guy" was what they called him. He didn't win many matches, but he was well known and rather liked, even if he was just acting like a "gaudy super hero". Rou decided that a simple upgrade would not suffice. He needed something extra. Then it dawned on his. What about...extra balls? IF that was the case then he would need a Flash system, and that's something that an ordinary Ball wouldn't be able to handle. Rou brainstormed. Balls were what made him so renowned in his town, he couldn't just stop using one. He crafted for weeks and weeks until he found a solution. The transforming ball! he could still use the Flash system as a Gundam, but still look like a ball. Weeks later, his prototype was complete. In a private match he quickly lost ground, but once he transformed his Ball, his opponent dropped like a rock. Now he just needed to know how to use his backup Balls. Constantly controlling them would be tedious and require immense effort. As he wracked his brain, the Super Sentai show running in the back ground showed a scene of them calling their mecha together. It was miraculous, and it fit Rou's personality perfectly. He was going to make a Ball Sentai. He began winning his local matches, preferring to keep his Ball Squad's ability a secret. It was for only those eyes he thought deserving. Learning of his fame, he was invited to Neilsen Labs to participate, signing up under the guise "Ball Guy", to keep his identity a secret for just a little longer. The suit had become a crutch, but its ability to keep him calm in social situations was invaluable. Other information: Rou changes into costume before every match, or constantly wears it if expecting challenges. Main Gunpla: Round Sentai: Ball Squad!/DAI-BALL-OH! Scale: 1/144 Based from: Balls Equipment and Weapons: Fireworks hidden in the tubes of each Ball arm. (Gotta be flashy right?). When combined into a single unit, all attributes are increased due to combined power output and source. Brigadier Ball (Red Stripe): The Ball Rou Controls and uses to command his squad. It is capable of transforming into a Gundam-esque mobile suit to combine with the rest of the balls to form DAI-BALL-OH!. Chest can fire an extremely powerful beam when connected to the other Balls as power sources. Blade Ball (Blue Stripe): Right arm of DAI-BALL-OH!. Equipped with four beam beam sabers to be wielded. Unfoldable hand. Blaster Ball (Green Stripe): Left arm of DAI-BALL-OH!. Equipped with twin beam rifles. A hand folds out from underneath when attached. Bomb Ball (Yellow Stripe) Legs of DAI-BALL-OH!. Equipped with four tri missile pods, two on each side. Added support on bottom to be used as feet. Booster Ball (Pink Stripe): Unfolds to become the backpack and cape for DAI-BALL-OH!, very fast but otherwise useless in combat. Other Gunpla: Name: Brave Knight Based From: GNX- Brave Appearance: Silvery gray. Same basic format, but with some more regal additions like a thin cape and a knights visor on the face that hides the green mono eye and a green feather plume. The upper arms and legs have been beefed up. The Astray Tactical Arms serve as the backpack and as a weapon. Armaments: GN Lance (Thinner and longer) Beam Rapier Tactical Arms (Arm blades (3 pairs) and Bow mode) Wrist vulcans Feet daggers (Al-la Blue Frame) Beam Shield Royal Mode (Half strength Trans Am but double the duration) Flight mode</s> <\|message\|>Rou Gernot/Ball Guy Rou usually tried to play the the strength of the gunpla. Accepting the beam saber would go against that tactic on so many levels. However, his love of cheesy honorable battles got the better of him. He attached his cannons to form the Anti Armor Shotgun and fired a shot into the air to let Kasumi know he was coming. He took the beam saber in his hand and walked forward, letting the attached cannons fall to the side.</s> <\|message\|>Kasumi Arashi The Shining Gundam turned to face the coming Buster. The Shining Gundam was already shorter than the Buster by about 2 meters, but since Rou's model was an MG while Kasumi's was an HG, it was even shorter. But the size of the suit didn't intimidate her. She takes her stance, mimicking her kendo school's form.</s> <\|message\|>Rou Gernot/Ball Guy Rou's Buster towered over the Shining Gundam, but he wasn't cocky. He turned the beam saber over in his hand so the blade extended from the bottom. The ZAFT Gundam held the saber in a manner that lined the blade along his arm in a defensive manner and gripped his wrist with his free hand to support himself. Kasumi looked like she knew what she was doing. It was like a scene from a samurai movie. Rou chuckled, he could practically hear the YOOOOOOOOOOO-"DUNK" sound bit.</s> <\|message\|>Sakuya Kawashiro Internally Sakuya wanted to scream at how he could forget her when he was the one who promised that rematch. This pissed her off a bit it was one of her most defining battles and he did not remember!! "It was the 12th championship battles you beat me in the semi finals when I was using my custom gerbera tetra. I was known back than as "Zechs the Lightning count" she said as she tried to job up any memories it was kind of annoying she had to do this though. "It was a hard battle but in the end you won since my gunpla wouldnt move when time ran out. Afterwards you promised a rematch if we ever meet again which is now." Sakuya stated simply it was just that she was not satisfied with how the battle ended and wanted another run at him.@Pilot231</s> <\|message\|>Alex Taylor 's when it hit him. That battle he had in the semi-finals. His Star AGE Gundam faced off against a very fast and modified Gerbera tetra. He couldn't seem to get a shot on her for a while, and when the fight moved to close range, his unit had lost its right arm and left leg. He managed to claim the victory when he charged right on into his opponent and pierce the suit with his beam saber, doing enough damage to shut it down. It was after that fight he made a promise to her that they'll have a rematch someday. Alex pats his fist in the palm of his other hand responding: "NOW I REMEMBER! Lightning count! I remember the fight and the promise. Of course you looked different back then a bit. You actually remind me of Tieria from Gundam 00. Sorry."</s> <\|message\|>Kasumi Arashi battle stood still for some time... until a leaf nearby finally hit the ground. The Shining Gundam's head rose a bit and its eyes glow brighter. In a fast movement of the arms, the blade was held close to the unit as Kasumi shouts: "Arashi school style, Storm Breaker!" The unit slashed forward, sending out a gust of wind that nearly blew the Buster off balanced, sending many of the leaves on the ground into the air. When one leaf passed by the view of the Buster, the Shining Gundam went from standing to dashing forward towards her opponent.</s> <\|message\|>Sakuya Kawashiro "Ha yah back than I always wore that char mask and dyed my hair blond. Though I stopped after that battle I took it as a sign that perhaps it was time for me to stop though I still have that gerbera tetra untouched something felt that it was its time to be repaired. I used to be mad about looking like Tieria back than I did everything to stop it though I just felt like it was time to lay down the mask after that perhaps I shall wear it once more for old time sakes though." She commented off her hand going to her bag which held said mask in it for some reason she never felt the need to throw it away and kept it in good condition. "Still it was a good battle heck you were the one who made me take off my mask." She laughed back than all she cared for was victory it was afterwords she felt like she could actually enjoy gunpla battles.@Pilot231</s> <\|message\|>Rou Gernot/Ball Guy Rou braced the Buster Gundam for the impact that the Shining would bring him. Only moments before the Shining would hit, he unclasped his hands and quickly reached for the Anti Armor Shotgun and quickly blasted in front of him.</s> <\|message\|>Kasumi Arashi There was an explosion from the shot. But it looked like nothing was there. Before Rou could react, the Anti Armor Shotgun had suddenly broken into several pieces, super-heated from being slashed by a beam saber. Right behind him, the Shining Gundam was there, but it was missing its left arm, which was hit by the round from the Buster. Kasumi thought to herself: "My reaction was slow. I'll need to be faster than that."@FerriteFox</s> <\|message\|>Dani Hatashi rolled into the room. She didn't want to disrupt people, but gave a small bow as she spoke up. "Greetings. My name is Dani Hatashi. I've come to speak about my ideas for plavasky particles." she said to him, giving a bow. "It would require knowledge on their subject and if you could please give me access to those who can help me bring these ideas to life, i would greatly appreciate it." she said, looking up at the one in charge of the room.</s> <\|message\|>Rou Gernot/Ball Guy Rou leaped forward and ran a few meters forward to create distance. His little stunt had destroyed four of his six current weapons, he had to play it safe now. The Buster turned around and ripped off the remains of its cannons, as they would only hinder him at this point. Rou readied his beam saber in the defensive fashion it had before and began circling around the area with the Shining. "You're pretty swift there Kasumi. If I hadn't reacted in that manner I would have already lost this."</s> <\|message\|>Alex Taylor did remember also in the fight, asking how why all she could think about was victory, when he always believed Gunpla should be fun. He's glad to see people who take his ideal to heart for they always seem to have more fun. Alex continues: "Well it's good to see you're doing well. Though about that rematch, i was hoping that we could have it another time, when we can use our other models, that and the fact that I already have someone in mind to challenge today. Gives a fist forward But I'll still keep my promise to you for a battle." Though down an arm, the fight to her was farm from over. She readied herself again and wait for the right moment... before she charged right at the spot the Buster was going to be at. Satsuki didn't turn around yet but he said: "Dani Hatashi. I've read up on you. IQ of 175. Prefers using suits that don't have legs. And who follows the ideals of Meijin Kawaguchi the 3rd. And i see you're interested in knowing more about the particles that we use in our systems."</s> <\|message\|>Rou Gernot/Ball Guy Rou felt jolted as the Shining crashed into him, shattering the armor panels and cracking the inner frame of his arms. As quickly as he could react, they were cleanly cut off. In a final desperate attempt, Rou opened the shoulder missile pods and fired off one last hoo-Ra.</s> <\|message\|>Kasumi Arashi With 12 missiles closing in at her Gundam, she waited till they were just about to impact... suddenly swish swish slash, and all 12 were split in half nearly at the same time, exploding. The flames engulfed the gundam. Did it work? From the flames, the outline of the Shining Gundam stood. Though burnted and damaged, it was still standing, with its saber drawn. The next second Rou noticed, it was just in front of his Buster with a saber right at the chest, ready to slash the Gundam in half. Kasumi warned Rou: "If you value your Gunpla, surrender. Just know there is no shame in surrendering."</s>	<\|message\|>Rou Gernot/Ball Guy Rou sighed heavily. With both arms gone and no more artillery, he really had no other choice. Wordlessly, he inputted the command to withdraw from the match. BATTLE ENDED</s>
<\|description\|>Rou Gernot/Ball Guy Age: 17 Gender: M Appearance: Normal: Rou wears a large black Kamen Rider baseball cap that shades his green eyes and makes his black shaggy hair fan out to shoulder length. He often forgets to shave. He wears a short sleeved button up shirt that is usually left open to show whatever Toku/Anime shirt he has chosen to wear for the day. His light blue jeans are a little stained and torn, but still decent. Ball Guy: Rou's alter ego is modeled after his Toku heroes. Ball Guy's outfit consists of a stark white spandex suit and a plastic helmet that sports a red hexagon and a green opaque visor. On top of the helmet is a small pair of mini turret "antennas". Nationality: American Backstory: All his life Rou has loved Tokusatsu heroes and giant robots, especially combiners. He began collecting Super Sentai robots, gunpla and merchandise when he was 8 and his collection is still growing. He can quote Riders, sing theme songs, and name any mobile suit. However, his biggest problem is that he can rarely discuss his hobbies due to his timidness. This was onset by his first gunpla battle at the local hobby shop. Rou built a simple GM to test the waters of the new game. He was stomped and ridiculed for his inexperience, and quickly left the shop and never returned. He longed for companions to help him. Better yet, a team. Despite his trepidation, he attempted to find friends at a different hobby shop. He laid low, but no one really stood out to him. Rou began to only fight matches in private, fearing what the audience would say about his skills. Struggling to overcome his fear of confrontation and people, Rou discovered that he wasn't too timid if the opponent didn't know who he was. He began planning a cosplay suit to hide his identity, but could not seem to fathom what mobile suit to base it from. Rou surveyed his shelf. He wanted something simple. Zaku? Nah, cliche. BCUE? Too animalistic. His eyes finally rested on something he constantly over looked. The quaint little cannon fodder known as the Ball. It was perfect. Rou's skills were good enough that he could hold his own with such a puny gunpla, ad it fit his hero theme quite nicely. He finished his suit in a week and went to the shop. People stared, but no one knew who he actually was, and it made Rou feel so much more comfortable. "Ball Guy" was what they called him. He didn't win many matches, but he was well known and rather liked, even if he was just acting like a "gaudy super hero". Rou decided that a simple upgrade would not suffice. He needed something extra. Then it dawned on his. What about...extra balls? IF that was the case then he would need a Flash system, and that's something that an ordinary Ball wouldn't be able to handle. Rou brainstormed. Balls were what made him so renowned in his town, he couldn't just stop using one. He crafted for weeks and weeks until he found a solution. The transforming ball! he could still use the Flash system as a Gundam, but still look like a ball. Weeks later, his prototype was complete. In a private match he quickly lost ground, but once he transformed his Ball, his opponent dropped like a rock. Now he just needed to know how to use his backup Balls. Constantly controlling them would be tedious and require immense effort. As he wracked his brain, the Super Sentai show running in the back ground showed a scene of them calling their mecha together. It was miraculous, and it fit Rou's personality perfectly. He was going to make a Ball Sentai. He began winning his local matches, preferring to keep his Ball Squad's ability a secret. It was for only those eyes he thought deserving. Learning of his fame, he was invited to Neilsen Labs to participate, signing up under the guise "Ball Guy", to keep his identity a secret for just a little longer. The suit had become a crutch, but its ability to keep him calm in social situations was invaluable. Other information: Rou changes into costume before every match, or constantly wears it if expecting challenges. Main Gunpla: Round Sentai: Ball Squad!/DAI-BALL-OH! Scale: 1/144 Based from: Balls Equipment and Weapons: Fireworks hidden in the tubes of each Ball arm. (Gotta be flashy right?). When combined into a single unit, all attributes are increased due to combined power output and source. Brigadier Ball (Red Stripe): The Ball Rou Controls and uses to command his squad. It is capable of transforming into a Gundam-esque mobile suit to combine with the rest of the balls to form DAI-BALL-OH!. Chest can fire an extremely powerful beam when connected to the other Balls as power sources. Blade Ball (Blue Stripe): Right arm of DAI-BALL-OH!. Equipped with four beam beam sabers to be wielded. Unfoldable hand. Blaster Ball (Green Stripe): Left arm of DAI-BALL-OH!. Equipped with twin beam rifles. A hand folds out from underneath when attached. Bomb Ball (Yellow Stripe) Legs of DAI-BALL-OH!. Equipped with four tri missile pods, two on each side. Added support on bottom to be used as feet. Booster Ball (Pink Stripe): Unfolds to become the backpack and cape for DAI-BALL-OH!, very fast but otherwise useless in combat. Other Gunpla: Name: Brave Knight Based From: GNX- Brave Appearance: Silvery gray. Same basic format, but with some more regal additions like a thin cape and a knights visor on the face that hides the green mono eye and a green feather plume. The upper arms and legs have been beefed up. The Astray Tactical Arms serve as the backpack and as a weapon. Armaments: GN Lance (Thinner and longer) Beam Rapier Tactical Arms (Arm blades (3 pairs) and Bow mode) Wrist vulcans Feet daggers (Al-la Blue Frame) Beam Shield Royal Mode (Half strength Trans Am but double the duration) Flight mode</s> <\|message\|>Alex Taylor shot pierces through the Reborns Gundam, and with a clear shot through it, the suit explodes. With that, the battle system announces: "BATTLE ENDED!" Sakuya's opponent was disappointed that his plans had failed against his opponent, feeling he had the faster unit. A while later after his battle, Alex was heading back down one of the halls of the labs. He was putting together the pieces from the Freedom that broke off during the fight. Though he couldn't fully fix everything, he'd get a good start till he gets back to his room to finish up the repairs. Thoughts from the fight were going through his head. It was true that Alex was technically still a rookie when it came to Gunpla battles, despite winning the tournament. Though through all his fights, his usual preferred weapon that he uses the most was the Beam Saber, even if it meant heavy damage to his Gunpla. He had feelings during his fight that Alexis was no doubt a long time pro with battling, so he felt that he fared well, but still had a lot of work to do. However, he smiles when he feels that he was indeed on the right track. With that, he hurried his way back to his room. Alex enters the room and notices Rou at the desk nearby his bed: "Hey Rou." Just like that, he sits down at his desk and places Freedom at the desk. But instead of going to work on his new Gunpla right away, he pulls out his Star AGE Gundam and starts taking apart some parts, pulling out some tools that were provided at each desk.</s> <\|message\|>Sakuya Kawashiro Nodding to herself for the victory well earned in her opinion she picked up her gunpla nodded to her "foe" and started leave. It was a decent battle she supposed she managed to see how her crossbone matched up though she supposed that despite the early lose of her peackock smasher it did real good. Just as she though though the main feature of the crossbone will become is I field and versatility in a battle. Though as she went back to her room she couldn't help but wonder just how would things turned out if she was against a stronger person?</s> <\|message\|>Rou Gernot/Ball Guy Rou looked up drowsily from the desk. "Oh, what's up. How'd your battle go?" Rou brushed off some excess plastic bits from the desk, luckily he had hidden the new Ball modules he had been working soon before. He posed the Brave Knight on his GP Base and laid back on his bed. Kasumi had really done a number on him. If he had played along with her game, he would have lost so much sooner. Rou struggled to wrap his head around what today's lesson was supposed to teach him. Was he too reliant on his custom weapons? Was he, in reality, using customization as a crutch?</s> <\|message\|>Alex Taylor continues to work on his Gunpla while he answers: "It went amazingly. Alexis really is a top of the line Gunpla Fighter. Just shows that i have a lot more to learn if i want to become a better fighter. Also, when i was using the Freedom, i was moving so much more smoothly than i had before. And if the tips i learned and the help i got from Dani, then I can only imagine what will happen when i finish with fixing up the Star AGE Gundam."</s> <\|message\|>Rou Gernot/Ball Guy Rou smiled at Alex's enthusiasm. "Yeah, I don't really feel like I've learned much today." Rou laughed. "I'll probably realize it in the middle of a battle, anime style you know?" Rou said, mindlessly lining the inside of some spare parts of a HG Jesta Cannon with layers of aluminum foil.</s> <\|message\|>Dani Hatashi @FerriteFox Dani had totally not followed alex back to his room after the battles. This was now totally not the reason why both Alex and Rou heard a knock on their door, at about waist level height none the less. Dani was sitting in her wheel chair outside the door, her victory two gundam sitting in her lap as she waited for someone to answer.</s> <\|message\|>Alex Taylor mentioned: "You know, i don't think there was one specific lesson that needed to be learned. Everyone had something to learn, and maybe they'll realize it later. I know i have learned something, and that's only gonna help make my partner and I stronger." door was knocked, catching their attention and Alex asked: "I wonder who's here?" He sets down his Star AGE Gundam he was working on and heads to the door, opening it revealing their guest: "Dani? What brings you here?"</s> <\|message\|>Rou Gernot/Ball Guy Rou leaned over behind Alex and swallowed hard. It was the girl in the wheelchair, Dani? He hadn't really seen or spoken to her since the first day of the academy, he wondered what she could possibly want. In her lap was a nicely made V2 Gundam, was she looking for a battle? Rou exhaled and looked at her. "Yeah, what's up?"</s> <\|message\|>Alexis Voll As Alexis sat at the desk working on Wing Zero she replayed the battle in her mind, looking for things she could have done differently to win, and coming up with a few things, not over using the Buster Rifles for one. She'd need to work on that, she normally avoided the super high output beam cannons like Zero's Buster Rifles due to the energy drain, these kits practically demanded an upgrade just to handle that, let alone general performance, and it annoyed her greatly she wouldn't be able to make those changes.</s> <\|message\|>Dani Hatashi @Pilot231 The V2 wasn't painted yet, but it looked beautiful none the less. "Alex, i'm here to be your mentor, like it or not." she said and rolled into the room regardless. "Rou... if i recall hearing your name correctly, if you want to sit in on my lesson, then feel free to do so." she said and rolled up to the work table and looked at the gunpla on the table. "well made and put together. however, i'm here to teach you how to paint it." she said to them.</s> <\|message\|>Rou Gernot/Ball Guy Rou sat at his desk while Dani entered. He looked at Alex coyly. "You know, if you wanted to bring a girl into the room I'd have gladly left." He teased. Rou straightened his cap and toyed with an ink pen before finally breaking it on accident. As the ink flowed into his hand, an idea struck him. Slowly, his rubbed it into his hand, testing the stickiness and viscosity. When he noticed the others staring, he blushed. "Sorry...theorizing..."</s> <\|message\|>Sakuya Kawashiro Sakuya sighed to herself as she walked back towards the dormitory area but as she was passing she spotted Alexis sitting at a building table. Seeing that she was by herself she decided to try and see what she was doing it wouldn't hurt after all plus it gave her a potential person to help her with her idea. Walking up to her she tried to announce her presence as to not startle her. "Ah hello Alexis was it?" she opened up as she grabbed a chair and pulled it next to where alexis was sitting.</s> <\|message\|>Alex Taylor @FerriteFoxAlex was a little caught off guard: "Mentor? When did, i mean, why would, i uh..." And when he heard Rou's comment: "It's not what you think! Could we maybe, um..." Alex ending narration: "Well, I'll admit, i've had a lot more crazier things happen to me than this. But I'm sure this will likely end very well. After all, the more I can learn from others, the better things will be. Just like the AGE system on the normal AGE-1 Gundam, we'll both keep evolving."</s> <\|message\|>Alexis Voll "Yeah, Sakuya right? Hows it going?" Alexis asked as Sakuya sat down next to her. Alexis was still working on Wing Zero, and it was tore down to the frame work in some spots still, with the damaged parts laying about beside the Gunpla in no real 'order'.</s> <\|message\|>Dani Hatashi @FerriteFox"Right..." she said to rou on the comment of the girl thing. "Anyways... i'm going to teach you how to properly paint your gunpla. not that you did a bad job, because it's looks fairly ok." she said examining the star age. "Anyways, do you know the first step before you even begin to paint your gunpla is to do to the gunpla?" she asked.</s>	<\|message\|>Rou Gernot/Ball Guy Rou shot off the rubber band that was wrapped around his fingers. Would a Gunpla have enough flexibility to utilize something like that? He snorted as it pinged off of Alex's shoulder. He looked at Dani. "Picking a color right?"</s>
<\|description\|>Saffron Bridges Sabre09 Military Rank: Warrant officer Age: 36 Gender: Female Appearance: Personality: Saffron is an adrenaline junkie with a quick temper, always living life to the fullest. She often charges into action before considering the overall tactical situation and sometimes leaves herself in difficult situations having failed to consider the consequences of her actions. She's smart and learns quickly in a scholastic environment, but only when carefully monitored and guided to ensure her attention doesn't wander off topic. Openly homosexual, Saffron has been married to her lesbian life partner for many happy years. Biography: Seen early on as a rising star Saffron was warmly accepted into the advanced officer training program at the academy based solely on her academic results and early aptitude evaluations. She completed her training in short order, scoring highly in tactical assessments and battle simulations with her instructors making note of her unwavering bravery and dedication to her goals. Things fell apart soon after that when during her first official mission she lost over half her squad when trying to perform a suicidal frontal attack against an entrenched enemy. Placed under psychological review pending court martial she was cleared of all charges, insisting that the tactic was sound given the circumstances and the intel provided to her at the time of operational planning. Her psychiatrist agreed that she was fit to return to duty, but noted a possible Messiah Complex or megalomaniac tendencies which should be monitored in future. Returning to action Saffron found command difficult. Word of her previous failure, and rumours that she was undergoing psychological treatment, undermined her position with the troops to whom she was assigned, and despite several successful operations she soon found herself being reassigned between divisions as her superiors tried to have the black sheep placed under anyone's command but their own. Things finally reached a head when Saffron received orders for her fifth transfer in two years. Facing off with her CO what started as a calm interview soon became violent, first with angry words thrown and then punches. Once again facing court martial, this time for striking a superior officer, Saffron found herself stripped of her commission and reenlisted as a Warrant Officer. Realise this could be a breaking point in her career Saffron's psychiatrist made arrangements for her to be transferred to a specialist program which would allow the Service to make best use of her skills rather than losing her altogether. Specializations: Skills:* Basic small arms training * Advanced combat training in close quarters combat and swordsmanship * Advanced tactical training, lapsed * Experienced knowledge of military protocols and procedures * Holds degrees in military history and humanities, but most of her knowledge is now outdated * Expert chef Suit Augmentation - Energy Shielding Shield Armour: In combat Saffron can activate her suit's shield capacitor units encasing herself in dense optical armour which protects her from concussive and kinetic attacks. The armour reacts to impacts by diverting power to the point of pressure, making it more effective when dealing with fewer targets. When facing attacks from multiple angles the armour strains to adjust fast enough (requiring 0.3 seconds to recover from each incoming attack) but when facing sustained attacks from a single assailant the armour can shunt all available power to a single facing, making it perfect for dealing with rapid fire weaponry. Since the armour prevents material passing through it also grants limited effectiveness against area of effect attacks, such as flames, liquids and gases, however it cannot protect against high frequency energy attacks such as heat, radiation and electronic interference. Suit Augmentation - Shield Emitters Shield Projection: By focusing the shield emitters in her hands Saffron can create either walls or blades of light which can be used to either defend or attack. When using her Shield Wall ability Saffron can create upto two shields (one per hand) a meter in diameter upto a maximum of three meters away. Unlike her armour these shields are static and have a fixed protection rating but may be easily repositioned on the fly simply by moving her hands to face a new direction. Energy Blades: When using her hand emitters to generate blades Saffron focuses the power of her shields into a single, almost indestructible monomolecular surface capable of easily slicing through practically any material. As the blades are composed of pure energy they are subject to disruption from other energy sources, such as other shields and similarly powered blades. Upto two blades can be created at a time (one per hand) and as they use the same emitters as her projected shields the two systems are mutually exclusive for each hand, although Saffron often chooses to equip a shield with one hand and a blade with the other, effortlessly switching between the two in the heat of combat. Energy Wave: Saffron can choose to overload her hand shield emitters, causing them to send out a powerful burst of energy in the direction she is pointing her hand at the time of discharge. This ability requires her to shut down the shield or sword she's using for at least two seconds in order to charge the capacitor and also burns out the emitter when used, requiring a cold restart to be performed which takes several minutes. Dual Service Pistols In order to cover herself on those occasions when either she's unable to close with the enemy to use her blades or her suit is recovering from overexertion Saffron carries a pair of standard-issue service pistols as backup weapons. While she's proficient with these handguns she's in no way a marksman, often relying on sustained suppressive fire until heavier support can reach her, or her suit is back to full power and ready for some hands on action. [[PSYCHOLOGICAL REPORT]] Warrant Officer Bridges shows signs of developing an inferiority complex based around the perceived persecution and ostracisation she has suffered from her fellow service personnel in recent years. In regards to any anger management issues she may have, it is my belief that the recent incident was a 'flashpoint' event caused by the ongoing treatment she had been receiving and not an indication of any deeper problems. No further action is advised at this time. I highly recommend she be placed into a high-profile programme which will not only make best use of her obvious combat proficiencies but also grant her the positive exposure she requires to stabilise her condition at this time. A small, tight-knit team would be preferable as it would allow her to form meaningful bonds with her colleagues on a more intimate basis, improving her perception of her fellow soldiers. Warrant Officer Bridges is hereby declared fit for duty and has been granted permission to resume her duties as soon as possible.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges Saffron was more confused than ever about this new setup, chain of command was based on their assigned squad numbers? In that case Sgt Garron outranked SSgt Grayeson rather than the other way around, and all three sergeants out ranked Lt Indar. Worst of all a civilian outranked her. Unable to hold back any longer she quickly raised her hand and glanced down the line of chairs towards her new CO. "I'm sorry to speak out of turn Sir, but could I just clarify the chain of command? You said 'lowest number is in charge', does that go for all ranks?" She was sure she was making herself sound stupid, and the others already knew of her previous history with command, but if she really was to be treated as the junior amongst them she was certainly not going to let them make her inconsequential.</s> <\|message\|>Jax "Ghost Reaper" Orion Jax sat in silence as he normally did. His knife in hand he was spinning that blade around. Catching it in his hand as he spun around once more as he let rolling it on the back of his hand and then turning it catching it. Though as he did this he wasn't even watching it. His eyes focused on a spot on the table in front of him. He had read all the dossiers he was given on all of them. Looking through his memory was sharp, he watched them all as they sat in uncomfortable silence, well uncomfortable for the rest of them. For himself, and he figured 04, silence was a friend. Used to working in the field by them selves, days, weeks of silence. One wrong sound and you were dead. You learned to be a mouse, a mouse with very big weapons. 02 stood up and started to speak, speaking to the others about how they needed to break the ice. He was right they were a team, but Jax would have the least amount of interaction with them, in and off the the field. As a sniper you learned to keep a distance a certain distance from people, he was always looking at people though a Scope. Though as long as every one did their job Jax didn't see any problems. he would socialize with them, get to know them. He would always keep that distance from them. He watched as the Doc stood up, out of turn, and started to speak. He was boasting it seemed, which was something that Jax didn't understand. He wasn't new to the SPEC OPs community, he had spent most of his career in black ops. You didn't talk about it, you didn't boast. There was a certain respect about such things. Snipers never asked each other numbers, black ops never asked about Ops. Distance it all came down to distance. Soon enough things were back on tract. 03 stood up and started speaking. Though all of this he kept playing with his knife as his facial expression never changing as he listened to him speak. He was very direct and to the point, Jax Liked that. The one thing he noticed was that he was the only one with a call sign. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. His tags, said "Ghost Reaper" none of his field uniforms had name tapes. More then just nicknames Call signs kept real names out of it, during black Ops it was something that helped keep them safe as there Unofficial names meant that linking the soldier to the person was harder. 04 was next, it was short and sweet just as Jax expected. Next would be 05, but there was another interruption 09 stood up asking about rank. He personally felt like she deserved her spot. He read her record, she was volatile, acted with out thinking. People like that got others killed, she had gotten people killed. In his Black Ops world she wouldn't of lasted. Her little outburst only helped cement his opinion of her in his mind though. He spun his blade and caught it his eyes kept on that spot on the table as he expression had still yet to change.</s> <\|message\|>Scott Riley One by one the group introduced themselves. Somehow Scott knew that Dr. Sigmund would interject, that man almost couldn't get enough of himself. Arrogance can only take you so far in the social realm, but he knew that if he had even half of the qualifications the doctor had then he might be arrogant too. After the brief introduction, Sabre 03 Phayne stood up and did the same. The contrast was almost comical. Here was this hulking mountain of a man that could break several bones in each of our bodies if he really wanted to struggling to talk about himself. He was modest, and hard working. He would be a valuable asset to the team, as long as his empathy didn't cloud his judgement. Next in line was Sabre 04 Garron. Almost as if it was a contest, Garron made his introduction the shortest one yet. It is understandable that neither he nor Sabre 06 Orion would be much for talk, and Scott half expected them not to say anything at all since it was that hard just to interview them prior. Communication is a key component of any team however, and it was the leader's intent to make sure there were no obstacles preventing this. That includes during down time. Then, all the way on the other side of the room, a marginally higher voice spoke up. Sabre 09 Bridges, arm raised and poised at attention, had asked a question. having already spoken to her before, Scott knew that socially there would be far fewer problems with her than there would be tactical problems. Hopefully after a few missions she would understand exactly what she had gotten into, and find her niche in the spec-ops environment. Answering her question, Scott replied, "I didn't mention anything about an ascending or descending order. I simply said 'lowest number is in charge'. I'm the lowest number, so I'm in charge. That's all there is to it. To put it another way, you are all on equal footing and take orders from me, unless I temporarily grant the power to give orders to someone to meet the circumstances." With a slight welcoming gesture of the hand, he continued, "Now, since we're having a conversation why don't you go next?" A faint smile formed across his face as he crossed his arms and waited for a response.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges Saffron frowned, shaken with inner doubts over her CO's proclamation. She'd always worked within the standard operational protocols as part of her previous assignments and the idea of not having clear communication channels shook her up a little. What should the squad do in combat if Cmdr Riley went down without assigning a deputy, who would take charge? Taking a deep breath she pushed her doubts aside. This was no time to raise such concerns, with the squad gathered together, at best it would make her seem argumentative and petty and at worse it may undermine the Commander's authority. Besides she'd just been given an order. Jumping to her feet the Warrant Officer snapped off a salute to her CO before standing to attention and with her eyes focusing in the middle distance she began to speak. "Warrant Officer class one Saffron Bridges reporting for duty, Sir." She began, unsure exactly what the team would need to hear that hadn't been included in her file, "Specialist training in close combat and tactical planning, Sir." Having completed her breakdown Saffron fell silent, still standing to attention as she awaited a response.</s> <\|message\|>Scott Riley Still smiling, Scott spoke to Saffron. "That's good and all, but why don't you share something about yourself? You know, so we believe you're a real person and not an android. It doesn't have to be big or interesting, just something small to break the mold. Also, don't use your former rank unless you are specifically stating that you are no longer that rank. You're a Sabre now, not a Warrant Officer." Scott was starting to have fun with this. The more awkward he made them feel now, the less there would be to deal with later.</s>	<\|message\|>Saffron Bridges This man was really beginning to confuse Saffron, he wasn't anything like the commanding officers she'd dealt with in the past, and she wasn't sure exactly what she should do about that. His comment about just being a Sabre now helped clarify things, in a way they were all just Privates now, equal and expendable. Only now Saffron began to wonder how they fitted into the wider military command structure. Were they a special division, like the Airbourne Cavalry, or simply support reserves? Once again she tabled her questions for later and instead concentrated on the matter at hand. "To be frank Sir, I'm not a 'real person', I'm a soldier." She replied, her voice clipped and precise, "but if you really need to know more than I suppose I could just say that I'm quite a good cook."</s>
<\|description\|>Saffron Bridges Sabre09 Military Rank: Warrant officer Age: 36 Gender: Female Appearance: Personality: Saffron is an adrenaline junkie with a quick temper, always living life to the fullest. She often charges into action before considering the overall tactical situation and sometimes leaves herself in difficult situations having failed to consider the consequences of her actions. She's smart and learns quickly in a scholastic environment, but only when carefully monitored and guided to ensure her attention doesn't wander off topic. Openly homosexual, Saffron has been married to her lesbian life partner for many happy years. Biography: Seen early on as a rising star Saffron was warmly accepted into the advanced officer training program at the academy based solely on her academic results and early aptitude evaluations. She completed her training in short order, scoring highly in tactical assessments and battle simulations with her instructors making note of her unwavering bravery and dedication to her goals. Things fell apart soon after that when during her first official mission she lost over half her squad when trying to perform a suicidal frontal attack against an entrenched enemy. Placed under psychological review pending court martial she was cleared of all charges, insisting that the tactic was sound given the circumstances and the intel provided to her at the time of operational planning. Her psychiatrist agreed that she was fit to return to duty, but noted a possible Messiah Complex or megalomaniac tendencies which should be monitored in future. Returning to action Saffron found command difficult. Word of her previous failure, and rumours that she was undergoing psychological treatment, undermined her position with the troops to whom she was assigned, and despite several successful operations she soon found herself being reassigned between divisions as her superiors tried to have the black sheep placed under anyone's command but their own. Things finally reached a head when Saffron received orders for her fifth transfer in two years. Facing off with her CO what started as a calm interview soon became violent, first with angry words thrown and then punches. Once again facing court martial, this time for striking a superior officer, Saffron found herself stripped of her commission and reenlisted as a Warrant Officer. Realise this could be a breaking point in her career Saffron's psychiatrist made arrangements for her to be transferred to a specialist program which would allow the Service to make best use of her skills rather than losing her altogether. Specializations: Skills:* Basic small arms training * Advanced combat training in close quarters combat and swordsmanship * Advanced tactical training, lapsed * Experienced knowledge of military protocols and procedures * Holds degrees in military history and humanities, but most of her knowledge is now outdated * Expert chef Suit Augmentation - Energy Shielding Shield Armour: In combat Saffron can activate her suit's shield capacitor units encasing herself in dense optical armour which protects her from concussive and kinetic attacks. The armour reacts to impacts by diverting power to the point of pressure, making it more effective when dealing with fewer targets. When facing attacks from multiple angles the armour strains to adjust fast enough (requiring 0.3 seconds to recover from each incoming attack) but when facing sustained attacks from a single assailant the armour can shunt all available power to a single facing, making it perfect for dealing with rapid fire weaponry. Since the armour prevents material passing through it also grants limited effectiveness against area of effect attacks, such as flames, liquids and gases, however it cannot protect against high frequency energy attacks such as heat, radiation and electronic interference. Suit Augmentation - Shield Emitters Shield Projection: By focusing the shield emitters in her hands Saffron can create either walls or blades of light which can be used to either defend or attack. When using her Shield Wall ability Saffron can create upto two shields (one per hand) a meter in diameter upto a maximum of three meters away. Unlike her armour these shields are static and have a fixed protection rating but may be easily repositioned on the fly simply by moving her hands to face a new direction. Energy Blades: When using her hand emitters to generate blades Saffron focuses the power of her shields into a single, almost indestructible monomolecular surface capable of easily slicing through practically any material. As the blades are composed of pure energy they are subject to disruption from other energy sources, such as other shields and similarly powered blades. Upto two blades can be created at a time (one per hand) and as they use the same emitters as her projected shields the two systems are mutually exclusive for each hand, although Saffron often chooses to equip a shield with one hand and a blade with the other, effortlessly switching between the two in the heat of combat. Energy Wave: Saffron can choose to overload her hand shield emitters, causing them to send out a powerful burst of energy in the direction she is pointing her hand at the time of discharge. This ability requires her to shut down the shield or sword she's using for at least two seconds in order to charge the capacitor and also burns out the emitter when used, requiring a cold restart to be performed which takes several minutes. Dual Service Pistols In order to cover herself on those occasions when either she's unable to close with the enemy to use her blades or her suit is recovering from overexertion Saffron carries a pair of standard-issue service pistols as backup weapons. While she's proficient with these handguns she's in no way a marksman, often relying on sustained suppressive fire until heavier support can reach her, or her suit is back to full power and ready for some hands on action. [[PSYCHOLOGICAL REPORT]] Warrant Officer Bridges shows signs of developing an inferiority complex based around the perceived persecution and ostracisation she has suffered from her fellow service personnel in recent years. In regards to any anger management issues she may have, it is my belief that the recent incident was a 'flashpoint' event caused by the ongoing treatment she had been receiving and not an indication of any deeper problems. No further action is advised at this time. I highly recommend she be placed into a high-profile programme which will not only make best use of her obvious combat proficiencies but also grant her the positive exposure she requires to stabilise her condition at this time. A small, tight-knit team would be preferable as it would allow her to form meaningful bonds with her colleagues on a more intimate basis, improving her perception of her fellow soldiers. Warrant Officer Bridges is hereby declared fit for duty and has been granted permission to resume her duties as soon as possible.</s> <\|message\|>Cyprian Sigmund "Oh, don't say that," Cyprian interjected once again, still standing from his last speech. "Each one of us is the best there is in what we do. The very reason you're here is because of your unique skills. That's only something a 'real person' could pull-off." He swung his finger in a swiping motion to point at everyone in the room quickly. "That goes for all of you. I may be a cocky bastard, but I am very confident in all of you, and you can be sure that I will do my best to keep you all alive. I certainly hope that each of you feel the same way..." His finger dropped as his expression turned very serious. "The eight of us were hand picked out of millions of people. Our missions will not be easy, and 'normal' soldiers would most certainly die if they had to do what we will be doing. So keep your chins up, your minds clear, and shake off the antisocial tendencies. The seven people you see in this room will be your family for quite some time." At the resolution of his rant, Cyprian sat on the table that had each Sabre's papers on them, pushing sheets out of his way as he sat down. He crossed his arms and examined his companions.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges Realising that she'd been dismissed, or as close to being dismissed as she was likely to get in this loose-knit outfit, Saffron dropped back down into her seat. She was glad to get off her feet, the pain in her back from the surgery she'd undergone less than a week before was still causing her some difficulties, despite her excellent physical health otherwise. Taking a moment to stretch her knees and arch her spine, Saffron quickly dropped back into her seated attention, enduring the discomfort she was feeling as she look up at the CO. It was quite an inspiring little speech, and she recognised it from one of the many she'd been taught back at the Academy. Hopefully this would all be over soon and they could get on with whatever it was the lucky eight had been selected for.</s> <\|message\|>Seth Garron Family... The word seemed alien to Seth. The man using the word talked of "antisocial behavior", which wasn't the case. Is there a problem with not seeing the point in talking? I'm just not used to needing a voice. I'm a soldier. A number. No matter what this commander says. I will have my assignment. I do it, and I get out. No need to talk, except for updating the handler or remote base about my situation. Why is that so hard? Seth took some mental notes about the others: - The sixth chair's owner has yet to speak, change his line of sight, or look at anyone. Seemed like-minded about talking. - Commander is trying to force everyone to talk, maybe even to the point of forcing awkwarness. Check back on his motivations. - 09, Bridges, is concerned about chain of command. And looks attractive. - The Mad Doctor is overqualified in intellect, yet seems to lack physical qualifications. He is supposed to be tagging along in missions, presumedly. Seth stifles a sigh. Great. We're a rag-tag group of qualified soldiers. We sound like the start of some war video game...</s> <\|message\|>Jax "Ghost Reaper" Orion Jax kept playing with his Knife. He was less rigid then the rest as even though he never looked he saw everything. Things were less formal in Spec ops, chain of command less clear. They didn't answer to a unit but usually higher. In truth Jax never knew who gave him missions, just a mission would come down,there squad leader would brief and they were off. Occasionally they would be approached as individuals and giving missions. Jax him self having to do this several times. Every one was speaking, talking about this and that. 09 was talking bout how she was a soldier and not a "real person". She almost sounded like she came right out of boot. The doctor was talking next as it was getting obvious who the personalities in the group was. There was always a few, people who stood out more then others. Jax him self never much saw a problem with this, it simply wasn't him. As a moment of silence fell over he kept playing with his knife. He would let the others keep carrying on, this briefing wasn't going to until every one was finished saying there piece and Jax was a very patient person. He decided to take this moment to let speak so they weren't waiting on him. Catching his knife he stopped playing with it for a bit "Sabre 06, Jax Orion. Call sign Ghost Reaper, Sniper" he spoke very straight forward and deliberate, just loud enough for those in the room to hear him.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges Saf smiled to herself as she heard Sgt Orion's introduction. He reminder her of other snipers she'd worked with in the past, the successful ones at least. It took a certain mindset to be able to sit in place, sometimes for days at a time, waiting for that perfect moment to take the shot and Sgt Orion seemed to fit the model perfectly. He'd be a good asset for the team. It took a moment for Saf to realise she was still making the same mistake in her thinking, calling her colleagues by their old ranks. She'd have to learn to call them Sabres, was she was too.</s> <\|message\|>Rory Phayne As the Sabres introduced themselves, Rory remained quiet. He could feel tension in the air but in a good way. It was the same feeling Phayne got before a mission-prickly skin and clarity of mind. Phayne relaxed and let the others speak, but soon grew anxious. ..don't they know there is a war on? And we're losing?.. he thought, immediately scolding himself....of course they do. These are the best the military can muster. This is all going somewhere...</s> <\|message\|>Seth Garron The corner of Seth's mouth moved up when he heard 06's intro. His suspicion of the like-mindedness on talking was confirmed. Only speaking when necessary and only what is necessary. The sniper chose his moment to speak as he probably chose when to shoot, using nothing less than the perfect timing. There was sizable silence before he spoke, then silence fell again afterwards. Sweet silence. It's the only time I can truly think to myself. This is nice, even though they're making their own tension at this point, it's interestng to see how they do with social tension. Heavy, 03, seems to... enjoy it? It's not like we're awaiting deployment to shoot down dozens of foreigners or federal enemies. Seth's focus on 03's reaction unintentionally forced his face into what would appear to be a scowl or glare. It's simply Seth's anylitical face, but it has before been seen as a glare or, in more common terms, a bitch face. Regardless, Seth still identifies with 06 closest since they both have a liking to silence unless it's absolutely necessary to speak. In recon training, Seth learned to only speak in whispers at most, and that's only if he needed to relay information to his handler that couldn't be given through other means of communication to the observing recon team. Since he spent a few years in the recon "business", Seth learned to keep quiet. It may also have to do with not having used his creative half of his brain since elementary school, but that has yet to be proven. Well, to a definitive point. It's been theorized by all the psychologists he's been examined by, but there's no concrete evidence. Yet.</s> <\|message\|>Jackson Indar After the quiet man sitting next to him finished his introduction, Jackson stood up, pushing the chair back a small distance. He cleared his throat, ready to introduce himself. "Hi, my name is Jackson Indar, Sabre 07, and I guess ex-Lieutenant. I'm the combat medic, as they say. I'll be keeping you guys alive in the heat of battle" He said, nodding his head slightly as he said his name. Everyone probably already knew that, but it didn't hurt to reiterate it. He sat back down and looked around at the other faces in the room. The dossier he had gotten about the other Sabres had been fairly accurate so far. 04 and 06 were very quiet, saying next to nothing for their introductions. 08 had surprised him by interjecting and boasting, but even the brief list of his accolades attached to the dossier were incredibly impressive for one man. Jackson adjusted his collar, making sure that it was straight enough. "Uh, so is that everyone then?" Jackson asked no one in particular.</s>	<\|message\|>Saffron Bridges "Uh, so is that everyone then?" "Everyone other than 'Overwatch'." Saf responded, speaking before she even realised the words were coming out of her mouth. Quickly snapping her jaw shut she stiffened her pose, hoping that speaking out of turn wouldn't cause any problems. The medic had seemed... nice, she supposed. A little unsure of himself maybe, but if his file was anything to go by then he was at least proficient in his craft. Saffron tended not to like having too many medics around, it made troops take dangerous risks if they thought there was someone who'd just patch them up after every fight available at the drop of a hat, but for some reason she felt reassured to know that the squad would have the support of an experienced field medic along for the ride.</s>
<\|description\|>Saffron Bridges Sabre09 Military Rank: Warrant officer Age: 36 Gender: Female Appearance: Personality: Saffron is an adrenaline junkie with a quick temper, always living life to the fullest. She often charges into action before considering the overall tactical situation and sometimes leaves herself in difficult situations having failed to consider the consequences of her actions. She's smart and learns quickly in a scholastic environment, but only when carefully monitored and guided to ensure her attention doesn't wander off topic. Openly homosexual, Saffron has been married to her lesbian life partner for many happy years. Biography: Seen early on as a rising star Saffron was warmly accepted into the advanced officer training program at the academy based solely on her academic results and early aptitude evaluations. She completed her training in short order, scoring highly in tactical assessments and battle simulations with her instructors making note of her unwavering bravery and dedication to her goals. Things fell apart soon after that when during her first official mission she lost over half her squad when trying to perform a suicidal frontal attack against an entrenched enemy. Placed under psychological review pending court martial she was cleared of all charges, insisting that the tactic was sound given the circumstances and the intel provided to her at the time of operational planning. Her psychiatrist agreed that she was fit to return to duty, but noted a possible Messiah Complex or megalomaniac tendencies which should be monitored in future. Returning to action Saffron found command difficult. Word of her previous failure, and rumours that she was undergoing psychological treatment, undermined her position with the troops to whom she was assigned, and despite several successful operations she soon found herself being reassigned between divisions as her superiors tried to have the black sheep placed under anyone's command but their own. Things finally reached a head when Saffron received orders for her fifth transfer in two years. Facing off with her CO what started as a calm interview soon became violent, first with angry words thrown and then punches. Once again facing court martial, this time for striking a superior officer, Saffron found herself stripped of her commission and reenlisted as a Warrant Officer. Realise this could be a breaking point in her career Saffron's psychiatrist made arrangements for her to be transferred to a specialist program which would allow the Service to make best use of her skills rather than losing her altogether. Specializations: Skills:* Basic small arms training * Advanced combat training in close quarters combat and swordsmanship * Advanced tactical training, lapsed * Experienced knowledge of military protocols and procedures * Holds degrees in military history and humanities, but most of her knowledge is now outdated * Expert chef Suit Augmentation - Energy Shielding Shield Armour: In combat Saffron can activate her suit's shield capacitor units encasing herself in dense optical armour which protects her from concussive and kinetic attacks. The armour reacts to impacts by diverting power to the point of pressure, making it more effective when dealing with fewer targets. When facing attacks from multiple angles the armour strains to adjust fast enough (requiring 0.3 seconds to recover from each incoming attack) but when facing sustained attacks from a single assailant the armour can shunt all available power to a single facing, making it perfect for dealing with rapid fire weaponry. Since the armour prevents material passing through it also grants limited effectiveness against area of effect attacks, such as flames, liquids and gases, however it cannot protect against high frequency energy attacks such as heat, radiation and electronic interference. Suit Augmentation - Shield Emitters Shield Projection: By focusing the shield emitters in her hands Saffron can create either walls or blades of light which can be used to either defend or attack. When using her Shield Wall ability Saffron can create upto two shields (one per hand) a meter in diameter upto a maximum of three meters away. Unlike her armour these shields are static and have a fixed protection rating but may be easily repositioned on the fly simply by moving her hands to face a new direction. Energy Blades: When using her hand emitters to generate blades Saffron focuses the power of her shields into a single, almost indestructible monomolecular surface capable of easily slicing through practically any material. As the blades are composed of pure energy they are subject to disruption from other energy sources, such as other shields and similarly powered blades. Upto two blades can be created at a time (one per hand) and as they use the same emitters as her projected shields the two systems are mutually exclusive for each hand, although Saffron often chooses to equip a shield with one hand and a blade with the other, effortlessly switching between the two in the heat of combat. Energy Wave: Saffron can choose to overload her hand shield emitters, causing them to send out a powerful burst of energy in the direction she is pointing her hand at the time of discharge. This ability requires her to shut down the shield or sword she's using for at least two seconds in order to charge the capacitor and also burns out the emitter when used, requiring a cold restart to be performed which takes several minutes. Dual Service Pistols In order to cover herself on those occasions when either she's unable to close with the enemy to use her blades or her suit is recovering from overexertion Saffron carries a pair of standard-issue service pistols as backup weapons. While she's proficient with these handguns she's in no way a marksman, often relying on sustained suppressive fire until heavier support can reach her, or her suit is back to full power and ready for some hands on action. [[PSYCHOLOGICAL REPORT]] Warrant Officer Bridges shows signs of developing an inferiority complex based around the perceived persecution and ostracisation she has suffered from her fellow service personnel in recent years. In regards to any anger management issues she may have, it is my belief that the recent incident was a 'flashpoint' event caused by the ongoing treatment she had been receiving and not an indication of any deeper problems. No further action is advised at this time. I highly recommend she be placed into a high-profile programme which will not only make best use of her obvious combat proficiencies but also grant her the positive exposure she requires to stabilise her condition at this time. A small, tight-knit team would be preferable as it would allow her to form meaningful bonds with her colleagues on a more intimate basis, improving her perception of her fellow soldiers. Warrant Officer Bridges is hereby declared fit for duty and has been granted permission to resume her duties as soon as possible.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges Fidgeting in her seat Saf began to really worry about this new assignment. A loose-knit group of specialists working for someone who refused to even properly identify themselves to their subordinates screamed black ops, and whenever they were involved the mission was sure to be something morally questionable. She hadn't even been given an explanation for the invasive surgeries she'd been forced to undergo before accepting this posting. Quickly glancing at the doctor sitting next to her Saf reached down and tapped her wristcomp, activating its video record function. If these people were upto something questionable she wanted to make sure they didn't leave her out to dry once the work was done.</s> <\|message\|>Jax "Ghost Reaper" Orion Jax was un-phased by the man appearing on the screen as he finally looked up moving his head toward the screen. To him none of this was new, missions with very little prep time or briefing. Though something caught his eye. He looked over to 09 as she reached down and he rose an eye brow. Jax was very perceptive, it was one of the things that made him such a good sniper. Looking down he saw her wrist device turning on. That made his brow furrow as he looked at her, "you" He looked at her pointing his knife at her "off" His knife moved to point down at her wrist. His tone was very serious as he wouldn't let anything compromise him, or his team. Very little of any of Jax's operations were recorded. Most of his record simply has operations he was a part of, what he did and his contributions were all classified at the highest levels. Anonymity was the name of the game. Once on mission, they no longer existed. The idea of being recorded bothered him as there would be a record of involvement. He wasn't about to change things now. It should be slightly obvious that he was black ops. His out of regs hair style for one, his slack wear of his uniform, and the fact that he wore no rank or insignia, only a name tape that said "Ghost Reaper"</s> <\|message\|>Seth Garron Seth heard the voice least heard, from 06. Looking over, the sniper had caught 09 trying to record using her wrist device. Noting the keen eye sight of the Sabre unit with 'Ghost Reaper' taped on his uniform, he also took note of how demilitarized the sniper was. Must be federally employed or highly classified missions. I'll keep an eye out since he also talks short and precicely. Seth wasn't exactly in uniform, but he wasn't specified to, so he dressed commonly. Especially since previous branches, ranks, and titles were basically expunged. At this point, Seth just wanted to get on with this briefing and get the mission. Since he was stealth-recon, he figured he'd be going in, getting info that wasn't locked down before the rest of them come in and kill every being that stands in their way. It's almost an art sneaking past opposing soldiers, knocking one out to "borrow" a uniform and identification, and getting everything possible with those credentials. Or, in the higher security areas, sneaking past everyone, slipping into a room by following somebody, and plugging in a USB worm host into a server room. It was a mental challenge to get into places that Seth couldn't get from any video game, board game, or personal challenge. Mental challenges is the one reason Seth stuck with the reconnaissance squad he was placed in. He could almost make it a game.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges Looking over at the former sergeant Saf was unimpressed with his passive threat and placed her hand onto her sidearm. "No," She answered back levelly, mimicking the longarm's tone. As it had already been made clear to her there was no rank here and he had no right to make demands of her, and unless he wanted to actually try and force her to do what he said she most certainly wasn't going to, especially not at knifepoint. She'd read Sgt Orion's file, and knew he was a skilled sniper and expert in stealth operations, but she was the close combat expert here and in the close confines of the briefing room she had the advantage.</s> <\|message\|>Jackson Indar Jackson put a hand on both Jax's knife hand and Saffrons' sidearm holster, motioning for them to stop. "Calm down, both of you. I won't have the first injury here in the briefing room, m'kay? We're a team now, remember?" Jackson attempted to defuse the tense situation. Teamwork would be what would make or break them, and distrust between them would surely be the death of them. He was just glad he could heal minor wounds without any tools, using his nanites. If the two did attack each other, he could at least heal them, like he said he would. Let's just hope it doesn't get to that.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges Slowly relaxing Saf slipped his pistol back into the holster and lifted her hand away, holding it up to show she meant no harm. All the while her eyes remained fixed on the sniper, unwavering and ready should he make any hostile move. Finally her eyes broke away from Sgt Orion and moved over to the screen. "I'm getting tired of all this bullshit," She said, her tone obviously riled, "I was told this was a military operation, but so far all I've seen is wasted time and pointless theatrics. If you have a mission for us then give us the intel and send us on our way. If not, let us get back to our duties."</s> <\|message\|>Jax "Ghost Reaper" Orion Jax watched as Saf put her hand on her side arm. He waited for her to make a move, they were both experts in hand to hand combat, hell everyone in the room probably was, But she specialized in it. But she was brash and aggressive, tended to act before thinking. These were things he could take advantage of, these were also things you didn't want in a black operative. Though he felt the Docs hands on his own as he lowered his knife, but kept his eyes on saf. His own posture never changed, he was still sitting in a relaxed state as he flipped and spun his knife around once more. Looking at her, she had another outburst. In Jax's eyes she was quickly becoming the biggest liability. In the field this spat wouldn't effect Jax, he had team mates that he didn't get along with before. Once on the field though mission took priority. Jax had learned to separate himself, Jax became Ghost. Her he wasn't so sure about, she seemed to controlled by emotion. He turned his head over to the screen once more as he pushed everything down. Right not it didn't really matter, but that didn't mean he wouldn't be watching her closely in the field to see how she act.s</s> <\|message\|>Seth Garron With all of these volatile emotions flaring up, at least in 09 and 07, Seth thought that trying to reason these motions down would be the most effective way to move forward, since apparently this group isn't a one-time thing. "Oh-Nine. This isn't standard military op. It's closer to a black op, which is still military. That would mean discretion is key. If we don't succeed, we have nobody to turn to. It's just us, meaning team cohesion is also key. All of us are very different and we should be trusting of each other, and our mission director, as this won't be our last mission together, I presume." Seth read her dossier. He knew she had trust issues. Trying to reason trust from her seemed like the most efficient way to make her trust someone. "He'll give us the information we need, then we carry out the mission. Nothing else needs to be done. A recording isn't necessary unless you're just forgetful. Even then, seven others will have heard the same knowledge and can repeat it to you if you do forget." Using a disguised insult would help at least take her focus off of the recording itself and, if it worked, she'd be angry at him for insulting her memory. Once finished, Seth maintained eye contact with 09, awaiting her response.</s>	<\|message\|>Saffron Bridges Saf nodded her head towards Sgt Garron, acknowledging his words if not heeding them. The non-com obviously had little in the way of actual battle command and his blatant attempts at psychological manipulation were as clear to her as they had been during her numerous psychological evaluations. He was trying to smooth the waters though, even if a little hamfistedly, and she appreciated his attempt. Now if everyone would just get to the point and explain why it was she'd been cut open and tortured for days she could get the show on the road and actually put her suffering to good use.</s>
<\|description\|>Saffron Bridges Sabre09 Military Rank: Warrant officer Age: 36 Gender: Female Appearance: Personality: Saffron is an adrenaline junkie with a quick temper, always living life to the fullest. She often charges into action before considering the overall tactical situation and sometimes leaves herself in difficult situations having failed to consider the consequences of her actions. She's smart and learns quickly in a scholastic environment, but only when carefully monitored and guided to ensure her attention doesn't wander off topic. Openly homosexual, Saffron has been married to her lesbian life partner for many happy years. Biography: Seen early on as a rising star Saffron was warmly accepted into the advanced officer training program at the academy based solely on her academic results and early aptitude evaluations. She completed her training in short order, scoring highly in tactical assessments and battle simulations with her instructors making note of her unwavering bravery and dedication to her goals. Things fell apart soon after that when during her first official mission she lost over half her squad when trying to perform a suicidal frontal attack against an entrenched enemy. Placed under psychological review pending court martial she was cleared of all charges, insisting that the tactic was sound given the circumstances and the intel provided to her at the time of operational planning. Her psychiatrist agreed that she was fit to return to duty, but noted a possible Messiah Complex or megalomaniac tendencies which should be monitored in future. Returning to action Saffron found command difficult. Word of her previous failure, and rumours that she was undergoing psychological treatment, undermined her position with the troops to whom she was assigned, and despite several successful operations she soon found herself being reassigned between divisions as her superiors tried to have the black sheep placed under anyone's command but their own. Things finally reached a head when Saffron received orders for her fifth transfer in two years. Facing off with her CO what started as a calm interview soon became violent, first with angry words thrown and then punches. Once again facing court martial, this time for striking a superior officer, Saffron found herself stripped of her commission and reenlisted as a Warrant Officer. Realise this could be a breaking point in her career Saffron's psychiatrist made arrangements for her to be transferred to a specialist program which would allow the Service to make best use of her skills rather than losing her altogether. Specializations: Skills:* Basic small arms training * Advanced combat training in close quarters combat and swordsmanship * Advanced tactical training, lapsed * Experienced knowledge of military protocols and procedures * Holds degrees in military history and humanities, but most of her knowledge is now outdated * Expert chef Suit Augmentation - Energy Shielding Shield Armour: In combat Saffron can activate her suit's shield capacitor units encasing herself in dense optical armour which protects her from concussive and kinetic attacks. The armour reacts to impacts by diverting power to the point of pressure, making it more effective when dealing with fewer targets. When facing attacks from multiple angles the armour strains to adjust fast enough (requiring 0.3 seconds to recover from each incoming attack) but when facing sustained attacks from a single assailant the armour can shunt all available power to a single facing, making it perfect for dealing with rapid fire weaponry. Since the armour prevents material passing through it also grants limited effectiveness against area of effect attacks, such as flames, liquids and gases, however it cannot protect against high frequency energy attacks such as heat, radiation and electronic interference. Suit Augmentation - Shield Emitters Shield Projection: By focusing the shield emitters in her hands Saffron can create either walls or blades of light which can be used to either defend or attack. When using her Shield Wall ability Saffron can create upto two shields (one per hand) a meter in diameter upto a maximum of three meters away. Unlike her armour these shields are static and have a fixed protection rating but may be easily repositioned on the fly simply by moving her hands to face a new direction. Energy Blades: When using her hand emitters to generate blades Saffron focuses the power of her shields into a single, almost indestructible monomolecular surface capable of easily slicing through practically any material. As the blades are composed of pure energy they are subject to disruption from other energy sources, such as other shields and similarly powered blades. Upto two blades can be created at a time (one per hand) and as they use the same emitters as her projected shields the two systems are mutually exclusive for each hand, although Saffron often chooses to equip a shield with one hand and a blade with the other, effortlessly switching between the two in the heat of combat. Energy Wave: Saffron can choose to overload her hand shield emitters, causing them to send out a powerful burst of energy in the direction she is pointing her hand at the time of discharge. This ability requires her to shut down the shield or sword she's using for at least two seconds in order to charge the capacitor and also burns out the emitter when used, requiring a cold restart to be performed which takes several minutes. Dual Service Pistols In order to cover herself on those occasions when either she's unable to close with the enemy to use her blades or her suit is recovering from overexertion Saffron carries a pair of standard-issue service pistols as backup weapons. While she's proficient with these handguns she's in no way a marksman, often relying on sustained suppressive fire until heavier support can reach her, or her suit is back to full power and ready for some hands on action. [[PSYCHOLOGICAL REPORT]] Warrant Officer Bridges shows signs of developing an inferiority complex based around the perceived persecution and ostracisation she has suffered from her fellow service personnel in recent years. In regards to any anger management issues she may have, it is my belief that the recent incident was a 'flashpoint' event caused by the ongoing treatment she had been receiving and not an indication of any deeper problems. No further action is advised at this time. I highly recommend she be placed into a high-profile programme which will not only make best use of her obvious combat proficiencies but also grant her the positive exposure she requires to stabilise her condition at this time. A small, tight-knit team would be preferable as it would allow her to form meaningful bonds with her colleagues on a more intimate basis, improving her perception of her fellow soldiers. Warrant Officer Bridges is hereby declared fit for duty and has been granted permission to resume her duties as soon as possible.</s> <\|message\|>Jackson Indar Jackson remained silent for majority of the trip, eyes glued to the majestic scene of the Earth outside the viewport. It was awe-inspiring, and it was no surprise that it was a beacon of hope for the Conglomerate. Pulling his eyes away from the window and his mind back to reality, he began wondering about many things at once. What kind of gear are we gonna get? I know I'm a medic, but what kind of stuff will I be using? What about a gun? And what will everyone else use? Questions whizzed around Indar's head faster than he could answer them. Jackson turned his head to 05, who before that point had said nothing. "Well James, great to have you on board. As you probably know, Jackson Indar" Jackson introduced himself again, outstretching his arm to the other man for a handshake. "By god, this elevator has got to be almost there by now, right?" Jackson asked.</s> <\|message\|>Seth Garron Seth's mind began churning again with the new off-dossier info on the newly spoken tech savant. Hmm... More attempts at lowering off-duty tensions. Do these agents keep off-duty feelings while on the battlefield? Risky to do so. One would think that any feelings towards a teammate outside of combat would most logically be compartmentalized to off-duty, while during a mission, the most critical thing would be ensuring safety of as many operatives as possible. -Deductions: 05 and 09 will become closest, due to similar relationship-mending goals. 07 will be second-closest with 09. Also attempting to keep positive mannerisms with all teammates. -Note to self: check for social normality in keeping all team relationships positive. Video games have proven otherwise. Source - Alpha Protocol. Relationships built on "owing" one another in the form of favors and working together based on goals, not feelings. Internet search to follow... -Tactics: 05 would be optimal for flanking with robotics and numbers on his side. 09 would be second-best. They will most likely bond best; therefore, they could flank simultaneously, increasing flank effectiveness. Shields and robotics. Least casualties. The 'Tactics' note made Seth rethink the 'one-(wo)man distraction battalion', and now thinking of a two-man distraction armada, with 05's robots on his side.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges As the elevator finally ground to a halt the party were faced with a set of heavy cargo bay doors emblazoned with the sign A23F. Quickly stepping off the platform Saf made her way towards them, watching with a mixture of trepidation and excitement as the access hissed open in front of her. Pausing for a moment she looked back at her new CO, reminded for a moment that she still had to respect the chain-of-command, no matter how informal her commander liked to keep it. "Sir?" She asked cautiously, "Permission to proceed?"</s> <\|message\|>Scott Riley Scott answered Saf's question, "Yes. Right this way, everyone." He led everyone to the door, stepping to the side in order to access the lock. It was a standard hand print lock, displaying a silhouette of a hand as it prompted authentication aloud. Placing his hand on the lock, a blue light appeared as a bar on-screen and swept from top to bottom. The scan finished, causing the door to slide open sideways away from the lock. "Alright everyone, you'll know what to do as soon as you step inside." Entering first, Scott couldn't help but smile as he saw each of the Sabre Suits lined up along the far wall, in numerical order. Varying in size and appearence drastically, they were a glorious sight to behold indeed. Proceeding to his suit, Scott began to outfit himself. In other spots on the walls and in crates on the floor were other supplies and armament, such as pistols, assault riffles, combat knives, grenades, first-aid kits, riot shields, and even a few launchers. This was an armory designed specifically for the current Sabres, and it certainly showed.</s> <\|message\|>Jackson Indar Indar smiled as he entered the armory. The clean, steel walls were lined with suits, armour and weaponry, ready just for them. Indar approached the suit on the wall with '07' over it in simple block numbers. Walking over, he examined the suit he'd be wearing. It was made up of two parts, a rough cloth material in a tan sort of colour and blue armour plates over the top, covering his arms, lower legs, torso and head. There was also a table in front of the suit, with his equipment laid out on it. Immediately catching his eye was an assault rifle. It had a strange magazine, almost octagonal in shape. He found it strange, but assumed that it would probably hold more ammo that way. Moving on, there was a white pistol with a revolver barrel. The barrel, instead of pushing out to one side and spinning to reload, half of the barrel would push out either way, and cartridges would be loaded that way. Strange weapons, but they look effective Indar remarked in his head. He moved on to the seven thin and long cylindrical objects next to the guns. They looked similar, but two of them were different from the other five. Five of them had three short, needle-like extrusions at the bottom and a white button at the top. The other two had a pin at the top and were slightly shorter and thicker. It took Jackson a second to realise what he was looking at. They were advanced med-kits, injected into the arm. They alleviated pain and kept people alive for longer. The other two were things he didn't even know existed. They were healing grenades, and when thrown towards allies, a burst of chemicals and nanites would rejuvenate and heal his allies. Impressed by the developers, Jackson began suiting up, the med-kits and grenades fitting nicely on one side of the belt, and his revolver on the other. There was one other thing on a small shelf underneath the table. It was a white box with a red cross on it. There was a small note on a piece of paper sitting on the box. "In case all else fails... :)" Indar read aloud as he retrieved the first-aid box. The handle of the box fit nicely on two hooks located on his lower back. Jackson smiled once more as he looked down at all the advanced Sabre gear he was wearing. "I think I'm gonna like it here" He remarked.</s> <\|message\|>Cyprian Sigmund "Finally, let us see if my intuition and study has allowed for the most ergonomic integration." Cyprian wondered out loud as he approached his suit. Each outfit was sealed within either own large glass cylinder, with a base of machinery and computational systems displaying information. Cyprian places his hand on the screen in front of his suit, as Scott did to open the door. After doing this, the glass rose from around his suit, and he pulled it out of its chamber. The flexible grey and black exoskin was a separate entity from the silver and white armor that would lay around it. After slipping on the skin and donning the armor, he tapped a screen on his wrist, and several lights began to blink and glow across his wrists and around his visor. On each arm, machinery moves down from his shoulders to his forearms, and piece themselves together into two cannon-like items. These cannons rest on the outside of his forearms, keeping his hands free. "Ahh yes, this feels good." He said as he stretches and flexes in the armor, testing its mobility and expressing satisfaction with his agility. "What do the rest of you think? Each of these suits have been designed specially for you. Try them on! I hope you will enjoy them."</s>	<\|message\|>Saffron Bridges As she walked down through the bay Saf couldn't help but be impressed by the heavy suits of power armour arrayed on their display stands, or the ample amount of weaponry, ammunition and supplies piled in around them. Her excitement began to build as she reached her own suit, only to quickly dissipate with surprise. "Is this some kind of joke?" She asked the room in general as she studied the Sabre suit assigned to her. Unlike some of the others the suit appeared to be little more than a bodyglove with a few armoured plates attached to it, barely any better than the standard-issue gear worn by most soldiers. Reaching out she picked one of the armoured gloves off of the stand to examine it more closely. As she stood turn in the gauntlet over between her fingers Saf felt a surge of energy rising from within her, pulsing from the devices which had so recently been implanted inside her. In her hands the gauntlet began to glow as its surface began to feel oily and slippery. Before she could stop it the gauntlet slipped out from between her fingers, the glow dying before the armoured glove clattered to the deck. "What the fu..?" Saf muttered, eying the glove carefully. The power had obvious come from within her, she'd felt it after all, but what exactly it was she couldn't even begin to guess. Prodding the glove tentatively with her foot Saf looked back down the room and saw the others starting to suit up in their own armour and with one last look down at the mystery gauntlet she let out a deep sigh. "What've you gotten yourself into this time..?" She asked herself, pulling her service uniform off over her head before reaching out for the new suit which was waiting for her to wear.</s>
<\|description\|>Saffron Bridges Sabre09 Military Rank: Warrant officer Age: 36 Gender: Female Appearance: Personality: Saffron is an adrenaline junkie with a quick temper, always living life to the fullest. She often charges into action before considering the overall tactical situation and sometimes leaves herself in difficult situations having failed to consider the consequences of her actions. She's smart and learns quickly in a scholastic environment, but only when carefully monitored and guided to ensure her attention doesn't wander off topic. Openly homosexual, Saffron has been married to her lesbian life partner for many happy years. Biography: Seen early on as a rising star Saffron was warmly accepted into the advanced officer training program at the academy based solely on her academic results and early aptitude evaluations. She completed her training in short order, scoring highly in tactical assessments and battle simulations with her instructors making note of her unwavering bravery and dedication to her goals. Things fell apart soon after that when during her first official mission she lost over half her squad when trying to perform a suicidal frontal attack against an entrenched enemy. Placed under psychological review pending court martial she was cleared of all charges, insisting that the tactic was sound given the circumstances and the intel provided to her at the time of operational planning. Her psychiatrist agreed that she was fit to return to duty, but noted a possible Messiah Complex or megalomaniac tendencies which should be monitored in future. Returning to action Saffron found command difficult. Word of her previous failure, and rumours that she was undergoing psychological treatment, undermined her position with the troops to whom she was assigned, and despite several successful operations she soon found herself being reassigned between divisions as her superiors tried to have the black sheep placed under anyone's command but their own. Things finally reached a head when Saffron received orders for her fifth transfer in two years. Facing off with her CO what started as a calm interview soon became violent, first with angry words thrown and then punches. Once again facing court martial, this time for striking a superior officer, Saffron found herself stripped of her commission and reenlisted as a Warrant Officer. Realise this could be a breaking point in her career Saffron's psychiatrist made arrangements for her to be transferred to a specialist program which would allow the Service to make best use of her skills rather than losing her altogether. Specializations: Skills:* Basic small arms training * Advanced combat training in close quarters combat and swordsmanship * Advanced tactical training, lapsed * Experienced knowledge of military protocols and procedures * Holds degrees in military history and humanities, but most of her knowledge is now outdated * Expert chef Suit Augmentation - Energy Shielding Shield Armour: In combat Saffron can activate her suit's shield capacitor units encasing herself in dense optical armour which protects her from concussive and kinetic attacks. The armour reacts to impacts by diverting power to the point of pressure, making it more effective when dealing with fewer targets. When facing attacks from multiple angles the armour strains to adjust fast enough (requiring 0.3 seconds to recover from each incoming attack) but when facing sustained attacks from a single assailant the armour can shunt all available power to a single facing, making it perfect for dealing with rapid fire weaponry. Since the armour prevents material passing through it also grants limited effectiveness against area of effect attacks, such as flames, liquids and gases, however it cannot protect against high frequency energy attacks such as heat, radiation and electronic interference. Suit Augmentation - Shield Emitters Shield Projection: By focusing the shield emitters in her hands Saffron can create either walls or blades of light which can be used to either defend or attack. When using her Shield Wall ability Saffron can create upto two shields (one per hand) a meter in diameter upto a maximum of three meters away. Unlike her armour these shields are static and have a fixed protection rating but may be easily repositioned on the fly simply by moving her hands to face a new direction. Energy Blades: When using her hand emitters to generate blades Saffron focuses the power of her shields into a single, almost indestructible monomolecular surface capable of easily slicing through practically any material. As the blades are composed of pure energy they are subject to disruption from other energy sources, such as other shields and similarly powered blades. Upto two blades can be created at a time (one per hand) and as they use the same emitters as her projected shields the two systems are mutually exclusive for each hand, although Saffron often chooses to equip a shield with one hand and a blade with the other, effortlessly switching between the two in the heat of combat. Energy Wave: Saffron can choose to overload her hand shield emitters, causing them to send out a powerful burst of energy in the direction she is pointing her hand at the time of discharge. This ability requires her to shut down the shield or sword she's using for at least two seconds in order to charge the capacitor and also burns out the emitter when used, requiring a cold restart to be performed which takes several minutes. Dual Service Pistols In order to cover herself on those occasions when either she's unable to close with the enemy to use her blades or her suit is recovering from overexertion Saffron carries a pair of standard-issue service pistols as backup weapons. While she's proficient with these handguns she's in no way a marksman, often relying on sustained suppressive fire until heavier support can reach her, or her suit is back to full power and ready for some hands on action. [[PSYCHOLOGICAL REPORT]] Warrant Officer Bridges shows signs of developing an inferiority complex based around the perceived persecution and ostracisation she has suffered from her fellow service personnel in recent years. In regards to any anger management issues she may have, it is my belief that the recent incident was a 'flashpoint' event caused by the ongoing treatment she had been receiving and not an indication of any deeper problems. No further action is advised at this time. I highly recommend she be placed into a high-profile programme which will not only make best use of her obvious combat proficiencies but also grant her the positive exposure she requires to stabilise her condition at this time. A small, tight-knit team would be preferable as it would allow her to form meaningful bonds with her colleagues on a more intimate basis, improving her perception of her fellow soldiers. Warrant Officer Bridges is hereby declared fit for duty and has been granted permission to resume her duties as soon as possible.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges Snapping the last of the armoured plates into place Saf relaxed for a moment and let her suit settle into place before starting a few warm-up exercises. The rig felt no different than any other she'd worn in her career, if anything it was a little less protective than most she'd used. While her chest was well covered and the interlocking plates running over her abdomen and spine moved smoothly and provided cover her arms and legs only had plates covering about a third of their total area, with her inner arms and thigh only protected by the flexible underlayer which was little more than an alloy weave. Halfway through her exercises Saf felt the power building inside her again and quickly stopped moving. Carefully straightening up as the power flowed through her Saf realised her entire body was beginning to glow with the same light she'd seen on the gauntlet before. Moving slowly she tried to touch her arm, but as she drew near the glowing energy seemed to merge, letting her hand pass straight through without difficulty. 'Well, at least I won't have a problem getting the damn thing off when the time comes,' She thought derisively, still not convinced as to the suit's value. As a thought came over her she quickly lifted her foot and examined the sole of her boot. Almost instantly the glowing field snapped into place, enveloping her feet from below. 'They thought of that, too, huh?' She thought, starting to be impressed by the designer's foresight. As she lowered her foot again Saf felt a moment's pressure before her boot touched the floor, the field shutting off as it detected the constant pressure demanding contact with the deck plating. Moving over to the rack of weapons Saf ran her eyes over the selection of a moment before reaching out for an SMG which was close at hand. 'Guess I'll need a weapon...' she thought to herself. An instant later the SMG exploded in a shower of metal fragments, skewered on a shaft of energy emanating from Saf's hand. Pulling her gauntlet back quickly Saf glanced down the row at the rest of her squad sheepishly, wondering if any of them had noticed her little mishap.</s> <\|message\|>Seth Garron Seth didn't see the need to respond to anyone as they rode down the elevator. Staying silent and observing was his speciality, so why not use it? Silence was his only constant friend, and observation was the best tool he had in his arsenal. No amount of chatting and aimlessly talking compared to simply watching a person act on their own accord, because people try to make themselves seem a certain way in conversations, and the only way to see that happening is observing multiple conversations with said person and find the things that match to use as a baseline for how they are. Seth walked off the elevator into his designated chamber and almost instinctively stripped once he saw his suit. It was outfitted to be as quiet and elusive as possible. He slips it on, noticing the tight fit, but not suffocating. More like putting on another layer of skin, due to how natural and thin it felt. Running through the test course was too easy. Though, it was only meant to test the suit's integration, not pose as a mental challenge. Or if it was, it did no good against Seth. Every camera was avoided, even the test camera that was supposed to serve as a starting point for the observing scientists. When Seth re-entered from the ending side, the scientists were baffled. And impressed. Having been told nothing except to run the course without being seen by any person or camera, Seth didn't know of a 'test camera' that he was supposed to be seen in to start the time, the sneaky stealth operative avoided that one, too. Waiting for others to finish their tests and calibrations, Seth sat down, checking out everyone else's armour and weapons. Seth unsheathed the knife from his right boot. His 'last chance bullet'. He'd only kill if he had to, which it shouldn't come to that. His job was to put eyes and ears in the enemy base, not kill them all. He collects all available info, then gets out, the latter being the more difficult of the two.</s>	<\|message\|>Saffron Bridges As she stepped into the testing area Saf heard the scientists' voices calling in through the radio built into her suit's helmet, "All you have to do is eliminate the turrets." That seems a little too easy, Saf thought to herself, she'd been in the same position on the battlefield a dozen times or more. All she had to do was keep in cover and move around to the turret's weak rear side in order to shut it down. As she sood waiting for the test to start, expecting panels to rise out of the floor to provide simulated battlefield terrain, Saf was surprised to see six turrets rising up out instead. Okay, they did say turrets, now where's the cover? Without warning the turrets began firing, steady streams of energy pulses tracking round towards the soldier as she stood in the empty space between them. By reflex Saf pulled her arms up to protect her face, feeling the surge of energy from the implants inside her body as she did. Saf's shielding sprung to life just as the first pulse hit, splattering harmlessly against the glowing field surrounding her. Okay, well that works too, she thought to herself as she stood in the middle of the maelstrom of energy, unharmed thanks to the wonders of modern technology, but how do I take the turrets down? Remembering back to her mishap in the armoury Saf reached her hand out towards the nearest turret and concentrated, instantly causing a beam of light to project from the focusing len set into her palm. The beam stopped short of the turret, stabilising as a blade about a meter long. Not quite what I hoped for, she thought with a smile, So it's a sword, I can work with that. Pushing off with her leading foot Saf had planned to sprint towards the turret, but instead she found herself launched several feet into the air, leaping clear of the turrets' energy blasts as the automated guns pivoted to try and catch up with her swift movements. Quickly recovering herself Saf shifted her weight, spinning vertically in the air to drop herself down behind the turret she'd been heading for. Woah, cool, she thought, reaching back and effortlessly slicing the turret in half with her blade, before quickly darting to one side as the others locked in on her once more. This is going to be easy! Pushing herself as fast as she could move Saf darted towards the next turret, dodging from side to side to avoid getting hit by the energy bolts flying towards her from its emitter lenses. Projecting blades from both hands to slice the turret into pieces she jumped forwards through the mechanical remains, using them for cover to close with the third. In less than a minute the soldier stood standing in the middle of the training arena surrounded by the sparking and burning machine parts which moments before had been the turrets. Looking up at the surveillance cameras recording her performance Saf relaxed, letting her blades and shielding snap off leaving her in the middle of the darkened chamber, lit only by the burning debris. "Is that all you got?" She asked, smiling inside her helmet.</s>
<\|description\|>Saffron Bridges Sabre09 Military Rank: Warrant officer Age: 36 Gender: Female Appearance: Personality: Saffron is an adrenaline junkie with a quick temper, always living life to the fullest. She often charges into action before considering the overall tactical situation and sometimes leaves herself in difficult situations having failed to consider the consequences of her actions. She's smart and learns quickly in a scholastic environment, but only when carefully monitored and guided to ensure her attention doesn't wander off topic. Openly homosexual, Saffron has been married to her lesbian life partner for many happy years. Biography: Seen early on as a rising star Saffron was warmly accepted into the advanced officer training program at the academy based solely on her academic results and early aptitude evaluations. She completed her training in short order, scoring highly in tactical assessments and battle simulations with her instructors making note of her unwavering bravery and dedication to her goals. Things fell apart soon after that when during her first official mission she lost over half her squad when trying to perform a suicidal frontal attack against an entrenched enemy. Placed under psychological review pending court martial she was cleared of all charges, insisting that the tactic was sound given the circumstances and the intel provided to her at the time of operational planning. Her psychiatrist agreed that she was fit to return to duty, but noted a possible Messiah Complex or megalomaniac tendencies which should be monitored in future. Returning to action Saffron found command difficult. Word of her previous failure, and rumours that she was undergoing psychological treatment, undermined her position with the troops to whom she was assigned, and despite several successful operations she soon found herself being reassigned between divisions as her superiors tried to have the black sheep placed under anyone's command but their own. Things finally reached a head when Saffron received orders for her fifth transfer in two years. Facing off with her CO what started as a calm interview soon became violent, first with angry words thrown and then punches. Once again facing court martial, this time for striking a superior officer, Saffron found herself stripped of her commission and reenlisted as a Warrant Officer. Realise this could be a breaking point in her career Saffron's psychiatrist made arrangements for her to be transferred to a specialist program which would allow the Service to make best use of her skills rather than losing her altogether. Specializations: Skills:* Basic small arms training * Advanced combat training in close quarters combat and swordsmanship * Advanced tactical training, lapsed * Experienced knowledge of military protocols and procedures * Holds degrees in military history and humanities, but most of her knowledge is now outdated * Expert chef Suit Augmentation - Energy Shielding Shield Armour: In combat Saffron can activate her suit's shield capacitor units encasing herself in dense optical armour which protects her from concussive and kinetic attacks. The armour reacts to impacts by diverting power to the point of pressure, making it more effective when dealing with fewer targets. When facing attacks from multiple angles the armour strains to adjust fast enough (requiring 0.3 seconds to recover from each incoming attack) but when facing sustained attacks from a single assailant the armour can shunt all available power to a single facing, making it perfect for dealing with rapid fire weaponry. Since the armour prevents material passing through it also grants limited effectiveness against area of effect attacks, such as flames, liquids and gases, however it cannot protect against high frequency energy attacks such as heat, radiation and electronic interference. Suit Augmentation - Shield Emitters Shield Projection: By focusing the shield emitters in her hands Saffron can create either walls or blades of light which can be used to either defend or attack. When using her Shield Wall ability Saffron can create upto two shields (one per hand) a meter in diameter upto a maximum of three meters away. Unlike her armour these shields are static and have a fixed protection rating but may be easily repositioned on the fly simply by moving her hands to face a new direction. Energy Blades: When using her hand emitters to generate blades Saffron focuses the power of her shields into a single, almost indestructible monomolecular surface capable of easily slicing through practically any material. As the blades are composed of pure energy they are subject to disruption from other energy sources, such as other shields and similarly powered blades. Upto two blades can be created at a time (one per hand) and as they use the same emitters as her projected shields the two systems are mutually exclusive for each hand, although Saffron often chooses to equip a shield with one hand and a blade with the other, effortlessly switching between the two in the heat of combat. Energy Wave: Saffron can choose to overload her hand shield emitters, causing them to send out a powerful burst of energy in the direction she is pointing her hand at the time of discharge. This ability requires her to shut down the shield or sword she's using for at least two seconds in order to charge the capacitor and also burns out the emitter when used, requiring a cold restart to be performed which takes several minutes. Dual Service Pistols In order to cover herself on those occasions when either she's unable to close with the enemy to use her blades or her suit is recovering from overexertion Saffron carries a pair of standard-issue service pistols as backup weapons. While she's proficient with these handguns she's in no way a marksman, often relying on sustained suppressive fire until heavier support can reach her, or her suit is back to full power and ready for some hands on action. [[PSYCHOLOGICAL REPORT]] Warrant Officer Bridges shows signs of developing an inferiority complex based around the perceived persecution and ostracisation she has suffered from her fellow service personnel in recent years. In regards to any anger management issues she may have, it is my belief that the recent incident was a 'flashpoint' event caused by the ongoing treatment she had been receiving and not an indication of any deeper problems. No further action is advised at this time. I highly recommend she be placed into a high-profile programme which will not only make best use of her obvious combat proficiencies but also grant her the positive exposure she requires to stabilise her condition at this time. A small, tight-knit team would be preferable as it would allow her to form meaningful bonds with her colleagues on a more intimate basis, improving her perception of her fellow soldiers. Warrant Officer Bridges is hereby declared fit for duty and has been granted permission to resume her duties as soon as possible.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges Walking back down to her locker after finishing her training session Saf almost bumped into Sgt. Garron. "Whoa, sorry I didn't..." She started to say, holding her hand up by way of apology. Immediately her suit took over, projecting a shield wall forwards and pinning Seth back against the rack of guns behind him. For a moment Saf didn't know what was happening, before recognising the golden yellow glow which surrounded her own suit being created in front of her. Gentle lowering her hand she watched the wall fade into nonexistence before bending down towards where Seth lay crumpled on the floor, "Sorry about that too... I guess these suits will take a little getting used to." She said with as friendly a tone as she could, holding her hand out and offering to help her teammate back up onto his feet.</s> <\|message\|>Seth Garron Seth didn't notice 09 walk by, but was going to wave off her apology. He wasn't able to due to the wall of energy her outstretched hand created, which, due to the force of its creation, pinned Seth against the weapons rack with his feet an inch or two off the ground. Once the female teammate realized it was her suit that had created the hard place that pinned Seth between it and the rock that was the weapons rack, she made it disappear with a releasing gesture. Once gone, Seth fell to the ground, catching himself on one foot and one knee. He was still getting used to the lack of nerve endings on his feet bottoms, or he would have stayed up on his feet. Interesting, gesture-based restricted energy fields. Useful for defensive and offensive tactics. Exponentially so for defensive, yet innovative uses may create more offensive possibilities. Note made. 09 seems to offer help and friendliness, which may just due to the fact that I haven't said anything towards her, forcing paranoia of possible negative feelings. Previously noted to keep her in a positive mood while outside combat to avoid possible battlefield quarrels; therefore, accepting her help and reciprocating positive attitude towards her would be most beneficial to avoiding possible future volatility. After deliberating and rationalizing, while feigning impact shock, Seth clasped his hand on the woman's forearm and used his own strength to get up, releasing once he regained balance. "Agreed." Nodding with a slight, forced smile, Seth checked his person to make sure nothing fell out, namely his boot-knife. That's all he saw as necessary to reply to 09's talk of the calibration of the self-to-suit integration. Small talk didn't interest him, but analysing the rest of the team's post-calibration conditions would seem to be priority, as there would be hurdles to overcome with having suits that acted as though they were exoskeletons for each person, enhancing their natural abilities further than the augmentations done on them have. Remembering the pores on his neck and the fact that they'd put a gauze pad over them post-operation, Seth lowered his suit's neck line to take off the gauze and test out his new breathing abilities. After sliding the neck line up, he was able to breathe without inhaling from his nose or mouth. After a few moments of consciously switching breathing patterns around, he was able to balance the pore-breathing and nostril breathing, causing almost no noticeable breathing noise from him. Almost completely silent when standing still and moving, with his feet made to make as close to no noise as possible.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges After helping Sgt. Garron to his feet Saf was a little unnerved by his unnatural smile and quickly turned her gaze away glancing down the row of lockers at the other Sabers before turning back to the strong silent one in front of her, "So, what toys did they give you?" She asked as Sgt. Garron picked at something on his neck. As she waited for a response something seemed... wrong with the former sergeant, and for a moment Saf couldn't quite place her finger on what it was, but suddenly it dawned on her. "Hey, are you alright?" She asked, her voice worried as she reached forwards and took hold of Sgt. Garron's arm, "Did you stop breathing or something?"</s> <\|message\|>Seth Garron Seth cocked an eyebrow and pulled his arm from 09's grasp. "Breathing pores: allows near-silent breathing." Deciding that it's courteous to continue to answer her question, Seth adds, "synthetic foot pads: silent steps when barefoot. Seventy-percent nightvision mode. Chameleon camo function in suit. ... Yours?" Getting through everything with minimal wording, Seth figures it's customary in conversation to ask the other about a subject with which each can describe, list, or otherwise talk about. This is the most interaction Seth has had with a live female since before his right brain shut down. Interesting. Compassionate towards teammates, even though volatile. Not afraid to cause pain nor relieve it. Very interesting dynamic. Or simply trying to gain favor after the events in the briefing room. Should keep an eye on emotional levels throughout the training mission. Find high and low points and their causes. Seth nods at 09 before turning and joining the others who have finished their self-suit integration calibration.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges Lifting her arms Saf activated her shielding and her blades, giving Sgt. Garron the full light show. "Protective shields and what I think are variable-yield emitters in the gauntlets. I'm still getting a hang on those." As she explained the Warrant Officer tried imagining different sized blades and to her delight the long sharp beams shortened and widened, changing from what she thought of as lances to machetes and finally to shovels. When she tried to pull them back further a gauge suddenly appeared on her HUD and the gauntlets whined for a moment before sending a wave of force up into the ceiling, leaving a noticeable dent in the armoured plating there. "Okay, and they can be overcharged to act as some sort of recharging ranged attack." She said, watching as the gauge slowly began to shrink. Saf tried to activate her blades again but the emitters just glowed weakly for a moment before cutting out. "Gotta be careful with that though, seems it breaks the blade emitters at least for a short while, there's a gauge here that seems to be indicating the recovery time." Saf tapped at her faceplate to indicate to Sgt. Garron what she was talking about, as she knew the HUD was probably an internal projection not visible to others. "There's also some sort of rainbow strength gauge over here," She continued, moving her hand to the other side of her helmet, "Which I think is something to do with the shielding. It flickered slightly while under constant attack by six training turrets, but I've no idea how much of an indication of actual shield strength." Turning to look over Sgt. Garron's shoulder Saf called down the room to the Sabre standing at the locker beside hers. "Hey, Dr. Sigmund? You said earlier you were involved with the creation of these... systems," She said, waving her hand down the front of the top-of-the-line, form-fitting, technological marvel of a cybersuit, "I was just wondering what the maximum protective power the shielding on my suit could withstand? In terms a soldier could understand, if you can."</s> <\|message\|>SABRE TEAM "Well, the short answer is 'a lot.' More so than the rest of us, actually." The doctor responded from the front of the testing course. He, alongside Scott, were already used to the suits. His voice echoed through the helms of all the Sabres as he spoke through radio. "Each suit was designed to compliment your strengths while covering your weaknesses. The capabilities of offense, defense, mobility and utility appropriately vary among all of us to begin with, and so too should any equipment you use."</s>	<\|message\|>Saffron Bridges Tilting her head Saf frowned inside her helmet, that sounded just a little too glib to be true, and for a moment she wondered if the Great Creator was just a little too proud of his accomplishments. "So, what? I'm invulnerable then?" Saf asked, her voice dripping with doubt. "Could this shielding of yours stop an entire enemy squad? A tank? An airstrike!?! How about if you dropped me from orbit? Would it protect me from the heat damage from the friction, or just eliminate the friction altogether?"</s>
<\|description\|>Seth Garron Sabre04 Military Rank: Sargent Age: 26 Sex: Male All clothing as well as the mask are black. Equiped with Chameleon-tech camoflage abilities built-in. Personality: Seth acts like he does on the battlefield- quiet. When Seth does talk, it's in a hushed tone. He's cold, calculative, and efficient, so don't get in his way. This distances people that first meet Seth, but nobody's really gotten to know him since elementary school. Details in Bio, but he used to be just a goofy nerd with other nerdy frineds. Biography: In elementary school, Seth was one of the coolest nerds, making friends and doing school stuff. By 5th grade, others had moved on to hanging out at peoples' houses, but because of his strict parents, Seth couldn't go. By 6th grade, he had all but refused to do school work and was nearly expelled. Something switched. From that point on, his devoted all energy not spent eating and sleeping went into school work. By high school, and not having talked to anyone outside of ice breaker games, Seth's parents got worried, so they got him video games, which his parents made him play for a certain amount of time each day. He mostly played mostly survival or stealth-based games. He started breezing through them in a few hours and eventually having to make up extreme challenges to make it anything more than a cakewalk. By the end of high school, he didn't know what he wanted to do, but wanted something with precision, calculation, and something he hadn't used much before: physical work. So, he joined the army. Seth didn't take much time to reach the rank of Sergent. Once a Sergent, his talents acquired by social learning during his video game time started to shine while doing rudimentery drills. He was assigned to a top-secret military reconnisaince squad due to his exemplary time in obstacle cources and the notes of being quiet in all noises by his commanding officers. Their missions were only observe without being observed. Sometimes a "find this person" mission thrown in there. Seth was the one that was usually sent in when close-up observation was needed without being seen. By the time he was 25, he was selected to be sent out for the Sabre project. He didn't know what that meant, but Seth thought it would be more of what he was doing. He wasn't ready for what it was at first. He didn't know he would be augmented. Once he was, and after getting used to the augments, they became second nature to him, making him nearly ghost-like. Especially with the suit he was issued, which also heavily catered to his reconnaisence ability. Specializations: Natural skills- - Stealth knowledge and training - Survival knowledge and training Augments- - Silent Step: Seth's bottom half of his feet have been integrated with quieter materials so he can make no sound by stepping alone (obviously he'll make a noise if he steps on something that makes a noise. And yes, this also means he goes barefooted on his missions) and has had the nerve endings on the bottom of his feet removed. - 70% night vision: Seth's irises have been artificially enlargened to be able to see much better in the dark. - Breathing pores: Seth's trachea has been given about a dozen tubes out of it that lead to pores along his neck, allowing for slow and silent breathing. >> Retrieving most recent Psychological Evaluations. . . \| >> Done >> File extracted >> [[PSYCHOLOGICAL EVALUATION: SETH GARRON, SARGENT]] EXAMINER: JONATHAN S. WALSH DATE: [[REDACTED]] Sargent Garron exhibits extreme introversion, most likely caused by an onset of high expectations, albeit external or internal factors. That being said, Garron's logical and reasoning capabilities far exceed the curve for his age group. Keeping Garron engaged in speech is increasingly difficult proportional to the amount of time the conversation lasts, and his body language is very closed and cut off. Garron opts to not talk unless he deems it necessary, and will often answer yes/no questions with head nods and shakes unless pressed for a verbal confirmation. I recommend that Garron be placed in settings where verbal communication is mandatory and vital. Social interaction is also recommended to exercise the creative half of the brain that hardly shows in any of his communication and testing.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges Cautiously Saffron tapped her wrist comp and accessed the information she had on her new colleagues. Having only arrived the night before and been given separate quarters from the rest, for obvious reasons, this was her first encounter with most of them. Other than Cmdr Riley, who'd conducted her integration interview a few weeks earlier the only information she had was the official reports and documents to which she'd been granted access after being accepted onto this programme. Quickly she skimmed through the notes, trying to put faces to names as she glanced down the line. There were the three officers and three non-coms, not including herself. Along with that there was a civilian whose status seemed unconfirmed according to her files. Having read all she could from the sparse information at hand the newly warranted officer pulled up a holo of her wife, Yolanda. For a moment she let her mind wander back to the previous morning and smiled lovingly at the projected image before shutting the display down. She wasn't entirely comfortable with her new rank. Technically she did still have seniority over half the men in the room, although she was unsure exactly where the good doctor fell in the chain of command as there was no rank listed for him in any of the data packets she'd received. Her own position felt just as unstable somehow, as though she were only here under sufferance and at the first misstep would be asked to leave, not that she wouldn't deserve it. Obviously they'd been locked in this room for a reason though, and as only a non-com it wasn't her place to question orders, not anymore. Instead she sat to attention, her hands on her knees and back straight, awaiting those unquestionable orders as her mind drifted back to the warmth of the previous day.</s> <\|message\|>Seth Garron Seth looked around at the room with his typical stoic face on, deciding to test his memory skills which were below average compared to his other mental capabilities. The man on his right was the leader; 2. After him was the heavy weapons expert; 3. Next after himself was 5, was, according to the dossier, the "unconventional warfare" specialist. So a guerilla. 6... That was the... Sniper. That was it. To the sniper's left was the team medic, then the Tech expert, then our... Female. Right. Forgot there was a female in the team. Numbers and specialties don't convey gender, yet are the only means of getting accurate tactical data. Names mean nothing. Especially in millitary. All we are are numbers and/or ranks. We're here for their purposes. We do good, then we get a treat. It's the real life RTS game. With that, Seth saw no reason to sit at attention, so he leaned back comfortably in his chair as he sized everyone up to their dossier.</s> <\|message\|>Scott Riley Today's the big day. Scott carefully examined each soldier in the room, or more accurately, reexamined them. One by one he had previously met each of them, so he already knew much about his team. Despite this, a certain uneasiness loomed over him as if drawn vicariously from the others. Though he had gotten to know the seven of them, they had not gotten to know each other. The sight of them was something, alright; though most of them were about the same age, most everything else was different about them from their physique to their posture and even the clothes they wore. It was a hop-skip-and-yard away from the matching uniforms and robotic salutes of the infantry he usually dealt with. Nevertheless, Scott was still in charge. He had led entire divisions of forces against the JFA, but the question that remained to be seen was whether he could effectively lead a spec-ops group comprised of similarly skilled agents. There was only one way to find out, and no better time than now. Standing up and moving to the front of the room to face the rest of his team, he addressed them thus: "Well, we should be hearing from Overwatch soon, but in the meantime we need to do something about... this." Scott gestured around the room with his hands, calling to attention the awkwardness that he knew they were well aware of. "It may be silly but we need to break the ice. The sooner we get to know each other the better off we'll be. Now, I hope you all remember me but in case you don't I'll go first. My name is Scott Riley, and I'm a former commander for the EMA's armed forces. Oh, that reminds me... you're past ranks mean nothing in this unit. Now, the chain of command is 'lowest number is in charge', which means I'm always in charge. Even if I'm not there. Don't get me wrong, there's no superiority complex going on here. If everyone does as I say then there won't be any problems, it's as simple as that. Beyond that, we are all equally important gears in this machine. You've each been selected for the same reason I have, so you already have my respect. Just try not to lose that respect." After a short pause he realized that he had gone off topic. A short cough into his fist later and he retraced his steps. "Right then, I'm Sabre 02, my specialization is versatility in all fields of expertise, and I will be leading this team. I have a younger sister, both of my parents are dead and my brother died in the line of duty. I have no wife, nor will I ever if I stay here long enough to die first. I enjoy listening to music in my spare time, and my favorite color is red. I look forward to working with you." Pointing at the man who was sitting next to him in chair number 3, Scott declared, "You. Stand up, you're next."</s> <\|message\|>Cyprian Sigmund "If you don't mind, Riley, I would like to speak next." The man seated in chair number eight rose and brushed his hair from his brow before stepping forward and pivoting towards his companions. He began to introduce himself without waiting for a response from Sabre02. "I'll have you know that I worked very hard for my doctorate, and will be referred to as such." He said to Riley. His determination turned to a smile as he twisted his torso towards the rest of the group."MY name is DOCTOR Cyprian Sigmund! You can all thank me for those little 'upgrades' Overwatch crammed into your bodies." He rose his fingers for air quotes, and let out a short laugh at the conclusion of his sentence. "Oh! And also for the specialized deployment suits that you will be receiving. Now then, I am Sabre zero-eight, and I will be serving as the brains for our team." He cracked a wide smile before pointing his finger out into the group. "Now, that doesn't mean I'll be sticking my nose into books all day, oh no no no. In addition to our deployments, I will be working tirelessly to improve our gear and other assets." He placed his hands onto his hips with a satisfied "hmph," and looked around for a response.</s> <\|message\|>Rory Phayne The lieutenant commander had been sitting still and silent for what seemed an eternity when Commander Scott stood up and started talking. Rory admired the man, a good leader; a natural leader. Dad would like him, he thought absently. His attention snapped back as the Doctor who had worked with Rory over the past few months began speaking. Rory liked him too-the Doctor had given him weapons and abilities that far surpassed anything he might be able to achieve on his own. This is good for your career.., he could hear his dad telling him... "Right, then." Rory stood up as both commander Scott and the Doctor finished there introductions. "So I know the Doctor here and we all know the Commander." Rory paused;suddenly self conscious about addressing the group. He was by no means slight, even in the thin military greys he was wearing now, but he was not accustomed to speaking to groups of people he did not know. "I don't know any of you-I don't think I do anyways. But my name is Rory Phayne and I'm a heavy weapons specialist. That's it. No fancy tricks or bouncing around behind enemy lines. Just put me in front of something and I'll make it gone-No questions asked. When were in the thick of it you can count on me to back you up." I could tell you how I'm career military and my family has been for generations-but I think that's probably the case for most of us-Uh that's it. I look forward to working with you all." Rory, visibly sweating now sat down awkwardly and waited patiently for the next introduction.</s>	<\|message\|>Seth Garron Seeing the trend forcing its way down the line, save for the doctor, Seth opted to get it over with. Once 03 finished his shpiel, Seth stood up, took off his hood and mask, and addressed the room, barely loud enough to fill the room with his voice, starting with an audible sigh. "Sabre-04. Seth Garron. Stealth-recon specialist. You have my dossier for further info." And with his introduction nothing less than short, precise, and included all the information needed, Seth sat back down in his relaxed posture. Reviewing the other team members' introductions, the commander seemed to want this over with quickly as well. Could be dislike for this team or tension needing relief. Either way, the quiker these take place and end, the quicker we get to our new 'home'. What a waste of breath with personal information that we already have. But, when in Rome, do as they say. The doctor seemed to want nothing more than recognition of his achievements. Bragging of at least one doctorate and having either overseen or created the augmentations and suits. Then there's 03, the Heavy. He seems to know a little about the previous two that had spoken. He seems like he'd do anything the commander says, regardless of morality or ethics. Interesting...</s>
<\|description\|>Seth Garron Sabre04 Military Rank: Sargent Age: 26 Sex: Male All clothing as well as the mask are black. Equiped with Chameleon-tech camoflage abilities built-in. Personality: Seth acts like he does on the battlefield- quiet. When Seth does talk, it's in a hushed tone. He's cold, calculative, and efficient, so don't get in his way. This distances people that first meet Seth, but nobody's really gotten to know him since elementary school. Details in Bio, but he used to be just a goofy nerd with other nerdy frineds. Biography: In elementary school, Seth was one of the coolest nerds, making friends and doing school stuff. By 5th grade, others had moved on to hanging out at peoples' houses, but because of his strict parents, Seth couldn't go. By 6th grade, he had all but refused to do school work and was nearly expelled. Something switched. From that point on, his devoted all energy not spent eating and sleeping went into school work. By high school, and not having talked to anyone outside of ice breaker games, Seth's parents got worried, so they got him video games, which his parents made him play for a certain amount of time each day. He mostly played mostly survival or stealth-based games. He started breezing through them in a few hours and eventually having to make up extreme challenges to make it anything more than a cakewalk. By the end of high school, he didn't know what he wanted to do, but wanted something with precision, calculation, and something he hadn't used much before: physical work. So, he joined the army. Seth didn't take much time to reach the rank of Sergent. Once a Sergent, his talents acquired by social learning during his video game time started to shine while doing rudimentery drills. He was assigned to a top-secret military reconnisaince squad due to his exemplary time in obstacle cources and the notes of being quiet in all noises by his commanding officers. Their missions were only observe without being observed. Sometimes a "find this person" mission thrown in there. Seth was the one that was usually sent in when close-up observation was needed without being seen. By the time he was 25, he was selected to be sent out for the Sabre project. He didn't know what that meant, but Seth thought it would be more of what he was doing. He wasn't ready for what it was at first. He didn't know he would be augmented. Once he was, and after getting used to the augments, they became second nature to him, making him nearly ghost-like. Especially with the suit he was issued, which also heavily catered to his reconnaisence ability. Specializations: Natural skills- - Stealth knowledge and training - Survival knowledge and training Augments- - Silent Step: Seth's bottom half of his feet have been integrated with quieter materials so he can make no sound by stepping alone (obviously he'll make a noise if he steps on something that makes a noise. And yes, this also means he goes barefooted on his missions) and has had the nerve endings on the bottom of his feet removed. - 70% night vision: Seth's irises have been artificially enlargened to be able to see much better in the dark. - Breathing pores: Seth's trachea has been given about a dozen tubes out of it that lead to pores along his neck, allowing for slow and silent breathing. >> Retrieving most recent Psychological Evaluations. . . \| >> Done >> File extracted >> [[PSYCHOLOGICAL EVALUATION: SETH GARRON, SARGENT]] EXAMINER: JONATHAN S. WALSH DATE: [[REDACTED]] Sargent Garron exhibits extreme introversion, most likely caused by an onset of high expectations, albeit external or internal factors. That being said, Garron's logical and reasoning capabilities far exceed the curve for his age group. Keeping Garron engaged in speech is increasingly difficult proportional to the amount of time the conversation lasts, and his body language is very closed and cut off. Garron opts to not talk unless he deems it necessary, and will often answer yes/no questions with head nods and shakes unless pressed for a verbal confirmation. I recommend that Garron be placed in settings where verbal communication is mandatory and vital. Social interaction is also recommended to exercise the creative half of the brain that hardly shows in any of his communication and testing.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges Fidgeting in her seat Saf began to really worry about this new assignment. A loose-knit group of specialists working for someone who refused to even properly identify themselves to their subordinates screamed black ops, and whenever they were involved the mission was sure to be something morally questionable. She hadn't even been given an explanation for the invasive surgeries she'd been forced to undergo before accepting this posting. Quickly glancing at the doctor sitting next to her Saf reached down and tapped her wristcomp, activating its video record function. If these people were upto something questionable she wanted to make sure they didn't leave her out to dry once the work was done.</s> <\|message\|>Jax "Ghost Reaper" Orion Jax was un-phased by the man appearing on the screen as he finally looked up moving his head toward the screen. To him none of this was new, missions with very little prep time or briefing. Though something caught his eye. He looked over to 09 as she reached down and he rose an eye brow. Jax was very perceptive, it was one of the things that made him such a good sniper. Looking down he saw her wrist device turning on. That made his brow furrow as he looked at her, "you" He looked at her pointing his knife at her "off" His knife moved to point down at her wrist. His tone was very serious as he wouldn't let anything compromise him, or his team. Very little of any of Jax's operations were recorded. Most of his record simply has operations he was a part of, what he did and his contributions were all classified at the highest levels. Anonymity was the name of the game. Once on mission, they no longer existed. The idea of being recorded bothered him as there would be a record of involvement. He wasn't about to change things now. It should be slightly obvious that he was black ops. His out of regs hair style for one, his slack wear of his uniform, and the fact that he wore no rank or insignia, only a name tape that said "Ghost Reaper"</s> <\|message\|>Seth Garron Seth heard the voice least heard, from 06. Looking over, the sniper had caught 09 trying to record using her wrist device. Noting the keen eye sight of the Sabre unit with 'Ghost Reaper' taped on his uniform, he also took note of how demilitarized the sniper was. Must be federally employed or highly classified missions. I'll keep an eye out since he also talks short and precicely. Seth wasn't exactly in uniform, but he wasn't specified to, so he dressed commonly. Especially since previous branches, ranks, and titles were basically expunged. At this point, Seth just wanted to get on with this briefing and get the mission. Since he was stealth-recon, he figured he'd be going in, getting info that wasn't locked down before the rest of them come in and kill every being that stands in their way. It's almost an art sneaking past opposing soldiers, knocking one out to "borrow" a uniform and identification, and getting everything possible with those credentials. Or, in the higher security areas, sneaking past everyone, slipping into a room by following somebody, and plugging in a USB worm host into a server room. It was a mental challenge to get into places that Seth couldn't get from any video game, board game, or personal challenge. Mental challenges is the one reason Seth stuck with the reconnaissance squad he was placed in. He could almost make it a game.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges Looking over at the former sergeant Saf was unimpressed with his passive threat and placed her hand onto her sidearm. "No," She answered back levelly, mimicking the longarm's tone. As it had already been made clear to her there was no rank here and he had no right to make demands of her, and unless he wanted to actually try and force her to do what he said she most certainly wasn't going to, especially not at knifepoint. She'd read Sgt Orion's file, and knew he was a skilled sniper and expert in stealth operations, but she was the close combat expert here and in the close confines of the briefing room she had the advantage.</s> <\|message\|>Jackson Indar Jackson put a hand on both Jax's knife hand and Saffrons' sidearm holster, motioning for them to stop. "Calm down, both of you. I won't have the first injury here in the briefing room, m'kay? We're a team now, remember?" Jackson attempted to defuse the tense situation. Teamwork would be what would make or break them, and distrust between them would surely be the death of them. He was just glad he could heal minor wounds without any tools, using his nanites. If the two did attack each other, he could at least heal them, like he said he would. Let's just hope it doesn't get to that.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges Slowly relaxing Saf slipped his pistol back into the holster and lifted her hand away, holding it up to show she meant no harm. All the while her eyes remained fixed on the sniper, unwavering and ready should he make any hostile move. Finally her eyes broke away from Sgt Orion and moved over to the screen. "I'm getting tired of all this bullshit," She said, her tone obviously riled, "I was told this was a military operation, but so far all I've seen is wasted time and pointless theatrics. If you have a mission for us then give us the intel and send us on our way. If not, let us get back to our duties."</s> <\|message\|>Jax "Ghost Reaper" Orion Jax watched as Saf put her hand on her side arm. He waited for her to make a move, they were both experts in hand to hand combat, hell everyone in the room probably was, But she specialized in it. But she was brash and aggressive, tended to act before thinking. These were things he could take advantage of, these were also things you didn't want in a black operative. Though he felt the Docs hands on his own as he lowered his knife, but kept his eyes on saf. His own posture never changed, he was still sitting in a relaxed state as he flipped and spun his knife around once more. Looking at her, she had another outburst. In Jax's eyes she was quickly becoming the biggest liability. In the field this spat wouldn't effect Jax, he had team mates that he didn't get along with before. Once on the field though mission took priority. Jax had learned to separate himself, Jax became Ghost. Her he wasn't so sure about, she seemed to controlled by emotion. He turned his head over to the screen once more as he pushed everything down. Right not it didn't really matter, but that didn't mean he wouldn't be watching her closely in the field to see how she act.s</s> <\|message\|>Seth Garron With all of these volatile emotions flaring up, at least in 09 and 07, Seth thought that trying to reason these motions down would be the most effective way to move forward, since apparently this group isn't a one-time thing. "Oh-Nine. This isn't standard military op. It's closer to a black op, which is still military. That would mean discretion is key. If we don't succeed, we have nobody to turn to. It's just us, meaning team cohesion is also key. All of us are very different and we should be trusting of each other, and our mission director, as this won't be our last mission together, I presume." Seth read her dossier. He knew she had trust issues. Trying to reason trust from her seemed like the most efficient way to make her trust someone. "He'll give us the information we need, then we carry out the mission. Nothing else needs to be done. A recording isn't necessary unless you're just forgetful. Even then, seven others will have heard the same knowledge and can repeat it to you if you do forget." Using a disguised insult would help at least take her focus off of the recording itself and, if it worked, she'd be angry at him for insulting her memory. Once finished, Seth maintained eye contact with 09, awaiting her response.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges Saf nodded her head towards Sgt Garron, acknowledging his words if not heeding them. The non-com obviously had little in the way of actual battle command and his blatant attempts at psychological manipulation were as clear to her as they had been during her numerous psychological evaluations. He was trying to smooth the waters though, even if a little hamfistedly, and she appreciated his attempt. Now if everyone would just get to the point and explain why it was she'd been cut open and tortured for days she could get the show on the road and actually put her suffering to good use.</s> <\|message\|>Scott Riley Watching as the first arguments already began, Scott couldn't help but let out a short laugh. "If you don't mind, you'll all have plenty of time to get your irks and quirks out of your system en-route to our mission. But for now, I would like to remind you all that we're in the presence of Overwatch, and as such you should all be on your best behavior." He waited a moment in silence, making sure everyone understood him. Turning in place to face the monitor, he rubbed his chin briefly and said, "My apologies, sir. please continue."</s> <\|message\|>SABRE TEAM "Thank you, Zero-Two. Now, I'm sorry to burst your bubbles, but this first assignment will not be on the field. This will be an exercise of sorts. It would be a grave mistake so send you out against the JFA without getting used to your new augmentations, equipment, and team-mates." Overwatch adjusted his glasses again and fixed his gaze on Cyprian. "Zero-Eight. Have you relocated the SDS's to designation Alpha Twenty-Three Foxtrot?" "Affirmative, sir. Models Zero-Two and Zero-Eight are test confirmed, and the other six models are fully functional and ready for testing." Cyprian responded in a normal tone, a method of speech new to his allies. "Very good. Zero-Two, lead your team to Alpha Twenty-Three Foxtrot, and have them suit up. Even though you and Zero-Eight are confirmed, I want you to partake in this assignment again."</s>	<\|message\|>Seth Garron Seth's attention was brought back to Oh-Two talking about this sort of banter being done en route. This shouldn't continue past this room. En route should be spent strategizing an briefing of any sort that 02 can do. If we bicker en route, we'll surely bicker on the battlefield. Well, this time it would be on a training field of some sort. At least there's some soundness in their strategy, having us tested with these SMS's before being sent into a real firefight. Alpha Twenty-Three Foxtrot... A23F. It might help to remember that. My memory might become faulty before the time of its relevance... Someone should be able to remember. Once Overwatch had finished giving orders, Seth stood up and absent-mindedly saluted the figure on the screen, wobbling a bit as he stood up, still getting used to the bottoms of his feet not giving off any feeling, which forced Seth to calculate his balance by means other than his foot bottoms. Once he readjusted his balance, he turned to Oh-Two and made an 'after you' motion towards the door, ready to leave and finally have the mental challenge he'd been craving since arriving at the facility.</s>
<\|description\|>Seth Garron Sabre04 Military Rank: Sargent Age: 26 Sex: Male All clothing as well as the mask are black. Equiped with Chameleon-tech camoflage abilities built-in. Personality: Seth acts like he does on the battlefield- quiet. When Seth does talk, it's in a hushed tone. He's cold, calculative, and efficient, so don't get in his way. This distances people that first meet Seth, but nobody's really gotten to know him since elementary school. Details in Bio, but he used to be just a goofy nerd with other nerdy frineds. Biography: In elementary school, Seth was one of the coolest nerds, making friends and doing school stuff. By 5th grade, others had moved on to hanging out at peoples' houses, but because of his strict parents, Seth couldn't go. By 6th grade, he had all but refused to do school work and was nearly expelled. Something switched. From that point on, his devoted all energy not spent eating and sleeping went into school work. By high school, and not having talked to anyone outside of ice breaker games, Seth's parents got worried, so they got him video games, which his parents made him play for a certain amount of time each day. He mostly played mostly survival or stealth-based games. He started breezing through them in a few hours and eventually having to make up extreme challenges to make it anything more than a cakewalk. By the end of high school, he didn't know what he wanted to do, but wanted something with precision, calculation, and something he hadn't used much before: physical work. So, he joined the army. Seth didn't take much time to reach the rank of Sergent. Once a Sergent, his talents acquired by social learning during his video game time started to shine while doing rudimentery drills. He was assigned to a top-secret military reconnisaince squad due to his exemplary time in obstacle cources and the notes of being quiet in all noises by his commanding officers. Their missions were only observe without being observed. Sometimes a "find this person" mission thrown in there. Seth was the one that was usually sent in when close-up observation was needed without being seen. By the time he was 25, he was selected to be sent out for the Sabre project. He didn't know what that meant, but Seth thought it would be more of what he was doing. He wasn't ready for what it was at first. He didn't know he would be augmented. Once he was, and after getting used to the augments, they became second nature to him, making him nearly ghost-like. Especially with the suit he was issued, which also heavily catered to his reconnaisence ability. Specializations: Natural skills- - Stealth knowledge and training - Survival knowledge and training Augments- - Silent Step: Seth's bottom half of his feet have been integrated with quieter materials so he can make no sound by stepping alone (obviously he'll make a noise if he steps on something that makes a noise. And yes, this also means he goes barefooted on his missions) and has had the nerve endings on the bottom of his feet removed. - 70% night vision: Seth's irises have been artificially enlargened to be able to see much better in the dark. - Breathing pores: Seth's trachea has been given about a dozen tubes out of it that lead to pores along his neck, allowing for slow and silent breathing. >> Retrieving most recent Psychological Evaluations. . . \| >> Done >> File extracted >> [[PSYCHOLOGICAL EVALUATION: SETH GARRON, SARGENT]] EXAMINER: JONATHAN S. WALSH DATE: [[REDACTED]] Sargent Garron exhibits extreme introversion, most likely caused by an onset of high expectations, albeit external or internal factors. That being said, Garron's logical and reasoning capabilities far exceed the curve for his age group. Keeping Garron engaged in speech is increasingly difficult proportional to the amount of time the conversation lasts, and his body language is very closed and cut off. Garron opts to not talk unless he deems it necessary, and will often answer yes/no questions with head nods and shakes unless pressed for a verbal confirmation. I recommend that Garron be placed in settings where verbal communication is mandatory and vital. Social interaction is also recommended to exercise the creative half of the brain that hardly shows in any of his communication and testing.</s> <\|message\|>Jax "Ghost Reaper" Orion Jax watched as Saf put her hand on her side arm. He waited for her to make a move, they were both experts in hand to hand combat, hell everyone in the room probably was, But she specialized in it. But she was brash and aggressive, tended to act before thinking. These were things he could take advantage of, these were also things you didn't want in a black operative. Though he felt the Docs hands on his own as he lowered his knife, but kept his eyes on saf. His own posture never changed, he was still sitting in a relaxed state as he flipped and spun his knife around once more. Looking at her, she had another outburst. In Jax's eyes she was quickly becoming the biggest liability. In the field this spat wouldn't effect Jax, he had team mates that he didn't get along with before. Once on the field though mission took priority. Jax had learned to separate himself, Jax became Ghost. Her he wasn't so sure about, she seemed to controlled by emotion. He turned his head over to the screen once more as he pushed everything down. Right not it didn't really matter, but that didn't mean he wouldn't be watching her closely in the field to see how she act.s</s> <\|message\|>Seth Garron With all of these volatile emotions flaring up, at least in 09 and 07, Seth thought that trying to reason these motions down would be the most effective way to move forward, since apparently this group isn't a one-time thing. "Oh-Nine. This isn't standard military op. It's closer to a black op, which is still military. That would mean discretion is key. If we don't succeed, we have nobody to turn to. It's just us, meaning team cohesion is also key. All of us are very different and we should be trusting of each other, and our mission director, as this won't be our last mission together, I presume." Seth read her dossier. He knew she had trust issues. Trying to reason trust from her seemed like the most efficient way to make her trust someone. "He'll give us the information we need, then we carry out the mission. Nothing else needs to be done. A recording isn't necessary unless you're just forgetful. Even then, seven others will have heard the same knowledge and can repeat it to you if you do forget." Using a disguised insult would help at least take her focus off of the recording itself and, if it worked, she'd be angry at him for insulting her memory. Once finished, Seth maintained eye contact with 09, awaiting her response.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges Saf nodded her head towards Sgt Garron, acknowledging his words if not heeding them. The non-com obviously had little in the way of actual battle command and his blatant attempts at psychological manipulation were as clear to her as they had been during her numerous psychological evaluations. He was trying to smooth the waters though, even if a little hamfistedly, and she appreciated his attempt. Now if everyone would just get to the point and explain why it was she'd been cut open and tortured for days she could get the show on the road and actually put her suffering to good use.</s> <\|message\|>Scott Riley Watching as the first arguments already began, Scott couldn't help but let out a short laugh. "If you don't mind, you'll all have plenty of time to get your irks and quirks out of your system en-route to our mission. But for now, I would like to remind you all that we're in the presence of Overwatch, and as such you should all be on your best behavior." He waited a moment in silence, making sure everyone understood him. Turning in place to face the monitor, he rubbed his chin briefly and said, "My apologies, sir. please continue."</s> <\|message\|>SABRE TEAM "Thank you, Zero-Two. Now, I'm sorry to burst your bubbles, but this first assignment will not be on the field. This will be an exercise of sorts. It would be a grave mistake so send you out against the JFA without getting used to your new augmentations, equipment, and team-mates." Overwatch adjusted his glasses again and fixed his gaze on Cyprian. "Zero-Eight. Have you relocated the SDS's to designation Alpha Twenty-Three Foxtrot?" "Affirmative, sir. Models Zero-Two and Zero-Eight are test confirmed, and the other six models are fully functional and ready for testing." Cyprian responded in a normal tone, a method of speech new to his allies. "Very good. Zero-Two, lead your team to Alpha Twenty-Three Foxtrot, and have them suit up. Even though you and Zero-Eight are confirmed, I want you to partake in this assignment again."</s> <\|message\|>Seth Garron Seth's attention was brought back to Oh-Two talking about this sort of banter being done en route. This shouldn't continue past this room. En route should be spent strategizing an briefing of any sort that 02 can do. If we bicker en route, we'll surely bicker on the battlefield. Well, this time it would be on a training field of some sort. At least there's some soundness in their strategy, having us tested with these SMS's before being sent into a real firefight. Alpha Twenty-Three Foxtrot... A23F. It might help to remember that. My memory might become faulty before the time of its relevance... Someone should be able to remember. Once Overwatch had finished giving orders, Seth stood up and absent-mindedly saluted the figure on the screen, wobbling a bit as he stood up, still getting used to the bottoms of his feet not giving off any feeling, which forced Seth to calculate his balance by means other than his foot bottoms. Once he readjusted his balance, he turned to Oh-Two and made an 'after you' motion towards the door, ready to leave and finally have the mental challenge he'd been craving since arriving at the facility.</s> <\|message\|>Scott Riley "Yes, sir" Scott said to the monitor with a short salute. With that, the monitor powered down and a click could be heard from the door as it unlocked electronically. "Alright everyone, enough waiting around. Follow me." Leaving the room, there was a hallway spanning left-to-right. Once everyone was outside, Scott lead the group down the hall to the left. The facility they were currently located in was on Earth, and as such there was a certain high-class aesthetic about the building. Hardly any dust on the floors, the walls and ceiling free of marks or dents. After about three minutes of walking they stopped in front of a large gate. This was an elevator shaft, meant to be used by whole platoons and possibly even fit a small vehicle. As he called the elevator to the current floor, a low whirring sound came from below. It seemed like an eternity before the elevator finally reached the current floor. The gates opened, and Scott stepped onto the large platform which echoed a hollow metallic sound beneath his boots. "Everyone, please step onto the platform. We're heading down. Doc, you can take it from here."</s> <\|message\|>Jax "Ghost Reaper" Orion Jax sat in his chair as he stopped playing with his knife and soon returned it to the sheath on his belt. He waited for every member of the team to stand up and move out of the room before he finally fallowed suit. He was used to bringing up the rear, so it felt most familiar to him even in simple situations like this. Keeping a few steps back he fallowed everyone along the hallway. He looked around as he did as well. The building was so, clean and proper. He honestly hadn't seen anything like it in a very long time. Most of the time operating out of a ship or station, going to places that were even less well maintained some times. That was the nature of the beast though. Everyone on earth had power and money, it makes since that every thing is well maintained. Soon enough though they arrived at the elevator shaft. He kept to hime self and observed the others, watching them as they waited. After time seemed to pass by slower waiting on the elevator, but finally it arrived. Moving he leaned against the railings on the side of it. Even the rails on this fright elevator was sturdy. He'd been on some elevators that you doubted would make it the floor you wanted, and it was miracle when you did. Reaching up he pushed just underneath this left ear. The cybernetics in his eyes coming to life. Soon every one was highlighted and there names and saber numbers were shown. It even showed life signs. He assumed these were readings from there own IFFs. He decided to leave him active, as the elevator came to life and they were soon on there way to retrieve equipment.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges Saf could feel Sgt Orion walking behind her and it made her spine itch even more than the jack ports which had been installed down her back. She didn't trust him, and even though knew that when they were out in the field he would be watching over her she needed some kind of assurance he wouldn't be saving a round for her. Hanging back from the rest of the group slightly she took her chance as they waited for the elevator to turn on her new teammate with what she hoped was a friendly smile. "We good?" She asked, her tone level and precise. She'd noticed he didn't like talking much, so she kept her question as brief as she could.</s>	<\|message\|>Seth Garron Seth raised his eyebrows at 09's question of her status with 06. Hmm... Her speech style has adapted to 06's speech patterns. She's not showing any emotion. Short, clipped sentence. She must be worried that a highly trained sniper would keep a grudge against his own teammate. Highly unlikely, since in combat, this team has greater things to think about than a tiff that occurred off the battlefield. His attire assumes that he's either been off duty for an extended period of time or he is either in or has recently been in highly secretive military/federal operations. The latter is most likely, since we're called 'the best of the best'. This leads to the assumption that 06 would not be motivated to assault, let alone kill, a member of his squad purely for a spat. Especially since it has the possibility of jeopardizing an operation. Once he got on the elevator with the others, Seth shifted his eyes over to 06 for a response. Meanwhile, he takes notes and makes predictions. -Calculation: 06 will use two or less words, including a slight nod of the head. Thus, 09 will either nod in response, if she continues this personality adaptation of 06, or she will smile and thank him, if she reverts to her own personality, originally exhibited in the briefing room. -Observation: 09 seems to be trying to get on people's 'good side', at least since her spat with 06. -Note: no biases or initial connotations should be used when speaking to 09 to avoid possible misinterpretations or aggravations. Trust, and possibly inferiority, issues have been causing extreme emotional bursts. Volatility could be a weakness. Or, redirected, can be a possible distraction method against enemy units. Hm... With the last two mental sentences, Seth contemplates the thought of 09 being used as a one-(wo)man distraction battalion.</s>
<\|description\|>Seth Garron Sabre04 Military Rank: Sargent Age: 26 Sex: Male All clothing as well as the mask are black. Equiped with Chameleon-tech camoflage abilities built-in. Personality: Seth acts like he does on the battlefield- quiet. When Seth does talk, it's in a hushed tone. He's cold, calculative, and efficient, so don't get in his way. This distances people that first meet Seth, but nobody's really gotten to know him since elementary school. Details in Bio, but he used to be just a goofy nerd with other nerdy frineds. Biography: In elementary school, Seth was one of the coolest nerds, making friends and doing school stuff. By 5th grade, others had moved on to hanging out at peoples' houses, but because of his strict parents, Seth couldn't go. By 6th grade, he had all but refused to do school work and was nearly expelled. Something switched. From that point on, his devoted all energy not spent eating and sleeping went into school work. By high school, and not having talked to anyone outside of ice breaker games, Seth's parents got worried, so they got him video games, which his parents made him play for a certain amount of time each day. He mostly played mostly survival or stealth-based games. He started breezing through them in a few hours and eventually having to make up extreme challenges to make it anything more than a cakewalk. By the end of high school, he didn't know what he wanted to do, but wanted something with precision, calculation, and something he hadn't used much before: physical work. So, he joined the army. Seth didn't take much time to reach the rank of Sergent. Once a Sergent, his talents acquired by social learning during his video game time started to shine while doing rudimentery drills. He was assigned to a top-secret military reconnisaince squad due to his exemplary time in obstacle cources and the notes of being quiet in all noises by his commanding officers. Their missions were only observe without being observed. Sometimes a "find this person" mission thrown in there. Seth was the one that was usually sent in when close-up observation was needed without being seen. By the time he was 25, he was selected to be sent out for the Sabre project. He didn't know what that meant, but Seth thought it would be more of what he was doing. He wasn't ready for what it was at first. He didn't know he would be augmented. Once he was, and after getting used to the augments, they became second nature to him, making him nearly ghost-like. Especially with the suit he was issued, which also heavily catered to his reconnaisence ability. Specializations: Natural skills- - Stealth knowledge and training - Survival knowledge and training Augments- - Silent Step: Seth's bottom half of his feet have been integrated with quieter materials so he can make no sound by stepping alone (obviously he'll make a noise if he steps on something that makes a noise. And yes, this also means he goes barefooted on his missions) and has had the nerve endings on the bottom of his feet removed. - 70% night vision: Seth's irises have been artificially enlargened to be able to see much better in the dark. - Breathing pores: Seth's trachea has been given about a dozen tubes out of it that lead to pores along his neck, allowing for slow and silent breathing. >> Retrieving most recent Psychological Evaluations. . . \| >> Done >> File extracted >> [[PSYCHOLOGICAL EVALUATION: SETH GARRON, SARGENT]] EXAMINER: JONATHAN S. WALSH DATE: [[REDACTED]] Sargent Garron exhibits extreme introversion, most likely caused by an onset of high expectations, albeit external or internal factors. That being said, Garron's logical and reasoning capabilities far exceed the curve for his age group. Keeping Garron engaged in speech is increasingly difficult proportional to the amount of time the conversation lasts, and his body language is very closed and cut off. Garron opts to not talk unless he deems it necessary, and will often answer yes/no questions with head nods and shakes unless pressed for a verbal confirmation. I recommend that Garron be placed in settings where verbal communication is mandatory and vital. Social interaction is also recommended to exercise the creative half of the brain that hardly shows in any of his communication and testing.</s> <\|message\|>Cyprian Sigmund "I certainly hope so, Zero-Nine. This will be a long ride." Cyprian answered Saffron's question, though it was directed at another. His tone returned to its bright and cheery attitude and stood out against hers. The elevator was one of industrial use, all eight occupants easily fit inside with plenty of room to spare. It was these kinds of lifts that would transport heavy machinery to different levels of the the structure. Cyprian selected the desired floor, and the lift lurched into motion. The lift's decent caused those inside to feel lighter in weight. In reality, the falling platform reduces the "normal force" that pushes against the people standing on it, since the object applying the force is moving away from the object that the force is being applied to. It is actually this normal force that is felt by a person standing on a surface. Therefore, the apparent gravitational force felt by those on the moving platform is reduced. Cyprian was very close to explaining all of this on the way down, were it not for the beautiful scenery that made itself visible through windows that would periodically flash past the elevator. Looking outside, Cyprian and anyone else who looked saw the starry backdrop of deep space shimmering behind beacons of light that marked the presence of satellite structures. The bright sun light peaked from around a massive body that covered almost all of the field of vision downward. Peering down, one could see white clouds swirling and streaking across vibrant blue oceans, and green masses of land. Off to the side was a grey sphere far off in the distance. Only the lower half of this sphere was illuminated. "Ahhhh... Earth truly is a magnificent sight, isn't she?" Cyprian held his head in his hands as he pressed his face against the window, a bit too eager to take in the view as the party descended closer and closer towards the planet's surface.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges As she watched the starscape slide past the viewport Saf couldn't help but be taken aback. SHe'd seen the station when she'd arrived, but the passenger shuttle had had its back to Earth and so all she'd seen were the stark metal columns and support braces holding the structure together, something she'd seen hundreds of times before during her military career. The sheer overwhelming beauty of the Earth took her breath away every time she saw it though and today was no exception. It was good to have such an obvious reminder of exactly what they were fighting for, especially before what was sure to turn out to be a very dangerous mission. Tearing her eyes away from the blue pearl for a moment Saf eyed her new CO carefully, was this a deliberate form of manipulation on his part? After all, it would've made far more sense to have had the team muster in the bay they were in transit to rather than the briefing room which had had a distinct lack of briefing.</s> <\|message\|>Jax "Ghost Reaper" Orion Jax shockingly remained quite during the elevator trip. He heard Saf's question but honestly didn't think to dignify it with a response, His personal feelings on her wouldn't change after just a few minutes. With Saf though that answer would simply stir things up. He kept leaning against the railing as soon he looked up and out the window to see the earth outside that view port. It had been a very long time. This being closest he had been to the 3rd rock in nearly a decade. Looking at it though he felt little attachment, His family was military he spent most of his life in an orbiting station where his parents where. Looking at that rock he didn't even really know what it looks like on the surface, his only extended time there was for his training when he initially joined and again when he Went to scout sniper. Some of the others were more overwhelmed by the site as he looked back down. His eyes closed as he reached up and scratched the under side of his chin. Though he hit something and his eye site changed. Looking up mostly everything was black, except for a blue glow that emitted from things, Wires, the motor of the elevator, looking at his team some of the bigger implants had lit up. Apparently he had EMF...something that could be useful, Reaching up he clicked it again, a thermal vision, Every thing was in black and white, hotter objects glowed white as colder were darker and black, he looked around seeing his teammates, one thing he noticed is that they were hot, hotter than normal people. That is something he would keep in mind for the future. Clicking again there was a night vision, though he flinched a bit and quickly clicked it over back to his normal tactical mode. He wished there was a form of what he called 'thumper' vision. It was simple and picked up vibrations, it helped cause it showed heart beats. Though for now he wouldn't worry about it, He was sure they would have calibrations and regular maintenance and would bring it up then.</s> <\|message\|>James Mathias Alexander James sighed as he stood among his fellow soldiers, he had kept quiet this entire time, considering the woman went on a childish rampage. The sniper acted unprofessional, waving his knife around and dishing out commands even though he was not the leader, people like them got someone killed. The woman already did, but the sniper had a lot of hidden records, which bothered him greatly. Men like him are never truly able to cohere with a team, this was not going to go well if they were going to keep this shit up. When he was deep in he NEEDED to bond with the team he was with, they needed to know every flaw, every skill, this made them men, and not just numbers. The guys with suits may not care for them, but they cared for each other, and that's what mattered. Even his command while he was in the Service cared, all of the big-wigs showed up to ONE man's funeral, and he was only a PFC, grant they couldn't always do it, but they did it whenever they could. To him, the Service was who he was, this sort of feeling made him adjust the leather coat he wore, it was a well-fitting leather jacket with his Battalion's symbol with the Winged Dagger of the S.A.S., on the dagger hung a gas mask. Above it read '23rd Battalion, He Who Dares Wins'. There was a reason he was picked for them, and this, he was the best at his profession, and those who matched him barely did so even before his augs. Now he was truly the best around with his kit, his augs, he was the most qualified in his eyes. At least for now, one day he would be replaced. Until that day comes however, he is gonna set one high fucking standard for whoever comes in after he does. His job was to control the fight, and even in the S.A.S with less than half the shit he had now he was one hell of a soldier, with his new drone, a Hollenhund. One lovely machine if he said so himself, a lovely amount of combat modifications gave him another soldier to fight with, this could make his life a lot easier. Running through the files of the other teammates, other than two he wanted to crack...Fucking wankers. The rest looked so much more worthwhile, and more tolerable. 6 and 9 had their skills, but they both seemed to be fatally flawed in a way that truly makes them butt heads pretty hard...This'll be fun indeed...Or so he hoped. Then his brain had a lightbulb and he spoke up rather randomly. "I apologize for not speakin' up earlier, James Mathias Alexander. A former S.A.S Scout and Unconventional Combat Specialist, I can high-jack any machine with nano-tech, or if you need someone isolated, I can get it done. I pretty much cause a shitstorm for our foes, giving us an opportunity to end an engagement early, or get the fuck outta dodge, whichever comes first. Oh! I also have a Masters in Robotics and a Bachelors in Nanotechnology, you can get that and more off my dossier. Alright, rant over." He quieted quickly and rolled his shoulders, trying to relax after that little speech. Fuck...He needed his gear, he was more comfortable in a military outfit, and in the field, not in a lift with people he didn't know worth shit.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges As she heard the Lt speak Saf quickly reached down to her wrist comp and pulled up his file, glancing over it and picking out the important details before turning her attention to the quiet 'Englishman'. Quickly running her eyes down his body Saf did a quick assessment. For a guy hitting his thirties Lt Alexander looked more like someone in their late teens. Either he'd taken really good care of himself or his family had enough money to pay for incredible thorough gene scrubbing in utero. Her money was on the former though, families who threw their money away on making sure their children were born with perfect genes tended to keep them at home rather than letting them enlist in potentially life threatening military careers. If he had come from money like that he'd more likely be the one sitting behind the monitor, beside Overwatch, than riding a freight elevator. "Special Air Service veteran? Where were you posted?" Before he had a chance to answer Saf quickly held up her hand with a smile, "Don't tell me. 'it's classified', right?"</s> <\|message\|>Jackson Indar Jackson remained silent for majority of the trip, eyes glued to the majestic scene of the Earth outside the viewport. It was awe-inspiring, and it was no surprise that it was a beacon of hope for the Conglomerate. Pulling his eyes away from the window and his mind back to reality, he began wondering about many things at once. What kind of gear are we gonna get? I know I'm a medic, but what kind of stuff will I be using? What about a gun? And what will everyone else use? Questions whizzed around Indar's head faster than he could answer them. Jackson turned his head to 05, who before that point had said nothing. "Well James, great to have you on board. As you probably know, Jackson Indar" Jackson introduced himself again, outstretching his arm to the other man for a handshake. "By god, this elevator has got to be almost there by now, right?" Jackson asked.</s>	<\|message\|>Seth Garron Seth's mind began churning again with the new off-dossier info on the newly spoken tech savant. Hmm... More attempts at lowering off-duty tensions. Do these agents keep off-duty feelings while on the battlefield? Risky to do so. One would think that any feelings towards a teammate outside of combat would most logically be compartmentalized to off-duty, while during a mission, the most critical thing would be ensuring safety of as many operatives as possible. -Deductions: 05 and 09 will become closest, due to similar relationship-mending goals. 07 will be second-closest with 09. Also attempting to keep positive mannerisms with all teammates. -Note to self: check for social normality in keeping all team relationships positive. Video games have proven otherwise. Source - Alpha Protocol. Relationships built on "owing" one another in the form of favors and working together based on goals, not feelings. Internet search to follow... -Tactics: 05 would be optimal for flanking with robotics and numbers on his side. 09 would be second-best. They will most likely bond best; therefore, they could flank simultaneously, increasing flank effectiveness. Shields and robotics. Least casualties. The 'Tactics' note made Seth rethink the 'one-(wo)man distraction battalion', and now thinking of a two-man distraction armada, with 05's robots on his side.</s>
<\|description\|>Seth Garron Sabre04 Military Rank: Sargent Age: 26 Sex: Male All clothing as well as the mask are black. Equiped with Chameleon-tech camoflage abilities built-in. Personality: Seth acts like he does on the battlefield- quiet. When Seth does talk, it's in a hushed tone. He's cold, calculative, and efficient, so don't get in his way. This distances people that first meet Seth, but nobody's really gotten to know him since elementary school. Details in Bio, but he used to be just a goofy nerd with other nerdy frineds. Biography: In elementary school, Seth was one of the coolest nerds, making friends and doing school stuff. By 5th grade, others had moved on to hanging out at peoples' houses, but because of his strict parents, Seth couldn't go. By 6th grade, he had all but refused to do school work and was nearly expelled. Something switched. From that point on, his devoted all energy not spent eating and sleeping went into school work. By high school, and not having talked to anyone outside of ice breaker games, Seth's parents got worried, so they got him video games, which his parents made him play for a certain amount of time each day. He mostly played mostly survival or stealth-based games. He started breezing through them in a few hours and eventually having to make up extreme challenges to make it anything more than a cakewalk. By the end of high school, he didn't know what he wanted to do, but wanted something with precision, calculation, and something he hadn't used much before: physical work. So, he joined the army. Seth didn't take much time to reach the rank of Sergent. Once a Sergent, his talents acquired by social learning during his video game time started to shine while doing rudimentery drills. He was assigned to a top-secret military reconnisaince squad due to his exemplary time in obstacle cources and the notes of being quiet in all noises by his commanding officers. Their missions were only observe without being observed. Sometimes a "find this person" mission thrown in there. Seth was the one that was usually sent in when close-up observation was needed without being seen. By the time he was 25, he was selected to be sent out for the Sabre project. He didn't know what that meant, but Seth thought it would be more of what he was doing. He wasn't ready for what it was at first. He didn't know he would be augmented. Once he was, and after getting used to the augments, they became second nature to him, making him nearly ghost-like. Especially with the suit he was issued, which also heavily catered to his reconnaisence ability. Specializations: Natural skills- - Stealth knowledge and training - Survival knowledge and training Augments- - Silent Step: Seth's bottom half of his feet have been integrated with quieter materials so he can make no sound by stepping alone (obviously he'll make a noise if he steps on something that makes a noise. And yes, this also means he goes barefooted on his missions) and has had the nerve endings on the bottom of his feet removed. - 70% night vision: Seth's irises have been artificially enlargened to be able to see much better in the dark. - Breathing pores: Seth's trachea has been given about a dozen tubes out of it that lead to pores along his neck, allowing for slow and silent breathing. >> Retrieving most recent Psychological Evaluations. . . \| >> Done >> File extracted >> [[PSYCHOLOGICAL EVALUATION: SETH GARRON, SARGENT]] EXAMINER: JONATHAN S. WALSH DATE: [[REDACTED]] Sargent Garron exhibits extreme introversion, most likely caused by an onset of high expectations, albeit external or internal factors. That being said, Garron's logical and reasoning capabilities far exceed the curve for his age group. Keeping Garron engaged in speech is increasingly difficult proportional to the amount of time the conversation lasts, and his body language is very closed and cut off. Garron opts to not talk unless he deems it necessary, and will often answer yes/no questions with head nods and shakes unless pressed for a verbal confirmation. I recommend that Garron be placed in settings where verbal communication is mandatory and vital. Social interaction is also recommended to exercise the creative half of the brain that hardly shows in any of his communication and testing.</s> <\|message\|>James Mathias Alexander James smiled as the elevator came to a halt, there was only one reason this would happen, and he knew exactly what it was. They had arrived at the armory, and that was the best feeling he ever felt as he saw the beauteous gear that each Sabre had available to them. When he saw his kit, he really did get a 'child in the candy store' smile. He strode over to the Suit with '05' printed over it in the standard military font. He smiled as he ran his hands over the fabric-like weave, feeling it...come to life? On contact with his body, he pulled the suit free from its resting place and quickly slid on the outfit, the 'clothing' conforming to the contours of his body to be comfortable, yet it looked, nice, and a very, standard grey. After sliding on the nano-fiber outfit, that resembled basic military attire, but it felt so much better on him, flicking up the hood, it almost seemed like he didn't have one on, but to the rest, unless they had enhanced vision, they wouldn't see anything of his face. He turned back to the table, grabbing the vest that held many pouches for magazines, grenades, and other gadgets he had yet to grab. Looking at the rest of his kit, he saw a small crate, bout the size of a large dinner pan. Opening the crate, inside sat a small single-eye optic, which fit to his right eye amazingly well. After he had it on, an interface lit up, and he noticed he had missed a wrist-mountable tool, after taking it and putting it on his wrist, the interface called it 'Anchor' stating it was ready for use. "Shit, even a Masters degree can't prep you for shit this amazing." Soon he looked to what else sat in the crate, and inside he saw a drone that nearly encompassed the whole thing. after a small scouring of the drone he found it's method of activation, a small switch on the inside, and the machine nearly jumped out of the box. Startling James a tad he stepped back, watching as the machine circled around him, was it...Was it looking him over? He'd heard of sentient A.I., but that was a theory before he left. He extended his hand to it, and the drone, bumped the tips of his fingers, almost giving him a curious look. "You are one perky li'l bugger ain't ya?" He chuckled, giving the drone a light pat on the 'head' and motioning for it to follow, which it surprisingly did. As it moved he did a diagnostic on its weapon systems, small flamethrower...it's own SMG, a small grenade launcher...A flash? Nifty. He'll have to figure that out later. Now it was to his weaponry, which was just as odd as the erst of what he saw, was what resembled a sub-machine gun with an extended barrel, a solid stock, foregrip, hybrid sight, and extended mags. Alongside it sat a compacted shotgun, about the same size, he knew the model and smiled. The gun had a sling, which'd make it easy to carry, the shells were both buck and solid slug. Sitting next to the table was a box for explosives, opening it he saw two spheres with sensory nodes on them, your standard frags, and what looked like remotely detonated charges. With an analysis from his optic, he realized they had nanites that were interfaced with the software in his suit and wrist-tool. According to the interface, he could...'Possess' other machinery? "Nice..."</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges Snapping the last of the armoured plates into place Saf relaxed for a moment and let her suit settle into place before starting a few warm-up exercises. The rig felt no different than any other she'd worn in her career, if anything it was a little less protective than most she'd used. While her chest was well covered and the interlocking plates running over her abdomen and spine moved smoothly and provided cover her arms and legs only had plates covering about a third of their total area, with her inner arms and thigh only protected by the flexible underlayer which was little more than an alloy weave. Halfway through her exercises Saf felt the power building inside her again and quickly stopped moving. Carefully straightening up as the power flowed through her Saf realised her entire body was beginning to glow with the same light she'd seen on the gauntlet before. Moving slowly she tried to touch her arm, but as she drew near the glowing energy seemed to merge, letting her hand pass straight through without difficulty. 'Well, at least I won't have a problem getting the damn thing off when the time comes,' She thought derisively, still not convinced as to the suit's value. As a thought came over her she quickly lifted her foot and examined the sole of her boot. Almost instantly the glowing field snapped into place, enveloping her feet from below. 'They thought of that, too, huh?' She thought, starting to be impressed by the designer's foresight. As she lowered her foot again Saf felt a moment's pressure before her boot touched the floor, the field shutting off as it detected the constant pressure demanding contact with the deck plating. Moving over to the rack of weapons Saf ran her eyes over the selection of a moment before reaching out for an SMG which was close at hand. 'Guess I'll need a weapon...' she thought to herself. An instant later the SMG exploded in a shower of metal fragments, skewered on a shaft of energy emanating from Saf's hand. Pulling her gauntlet back quickly Saf glanced down the row at the rest of her squad sheepishly, wondering if any of them had noticed her little mishap.</s>	<\|message\|>Seth Garron Seth didn't see the need to respond to anyone as they rode down the elevator. Staying silent and observing was his speciality, so why not use it? Silence was his only constant friend, and observation was the best tool he had in his arsenal. No amount of chatting and aimlessly talking compared to simply watching a person act on their own accord, because people try to make themselves seem a certain way in conversations, and the only way to see that happening is observing multiple conversations with said person and find the things that match to use as a baseline for how they are. Seth walked off the elevator into his designated chamber and almost instinctively stripped once he saw his suit. It was outfitted to be as quiet and elusive as possible. He slips it on, noticing the tight fit, but not suffocating. More like putting on another layer of skin, due to how natural and thin it felt. Running through the test course was too easy. Though, it was only meant to test the suit's integration, not pose as a mental challenge. Or if it was, it did no good against Seth. Every camera was avoided, even the test camera that was supposed to serve as a starting point for the observing scientists. When Seth re-entered from the ending side, the scientists were baffled. And impressed. Having been told nothing except to run the course without being seen by any person or camera, Seth didn't know of a 'test camera' that he was supposed to be seen in to start the time, the sneaky stealth operative avoided that one, too. Waiting for others to finish their tests and calibrations, Seth sat down, checking out everyone else's armour and weapons. Seth unsheathed the knife from his right boot. His 'last chance bullet'. He'd only kill if he had to, which it shouldn't come to that. His job was to put eyes and ears in the enemy base, not kill them all. He collects all available info, then gets out, the latter being the more difficult of the two.</s>
<\|description\|>Scott Riley Sabre02 WIP Earth-Time[ 4:29am, 7th, June, 4598 ] Enter Class S+ PIN and passcode to continue\| **********0001 -*********************** Checking... Access granted: User0001, welcome Mr. President. Enter Console command\| access[ data.********9264-02 ] Accessing database **********9264-02, Operation Shadow-Sabre Unit S02 dosier... Access complete, Loading... -Beta Stage: 7th, June, 4598 Notes[ Sabre02 dosier accessible as of ET 4:00 am on 6/7/4598 ] [ redirecting... ] [ done ] Sabre02 Dosier Military Rank: Commander Age: 37 Sex: Male Personality: Scott has been around the block so to speak; since joining the military he has become a different person than he used to be. Growing up on Mars he was quite amiable and outgoing, and this persisted into military service. After a traumatic encounter in the line of duty (disclosed below) he suffered from varied degrees of PTSD and depression. After therapy he returned to duty and flew through the ranks. He seems to think that becoming the best soldier possible will atone for his mistakes. As of now Scott is known to act in a stern, professional manner consistently. His role is that of a leader. Bearing this in mind, the only bond he wishes to form with his peers and subordinates is one of trust and dedication; friendship leads to more pain and should be avoided. Biography: Commander Riley was born and raised on Mars. He received an average middle-class education along with his brother and sister, and had two parents that were able to support him for his entire childhood. He and his brother Sargent Leon Riley both joined the the army after high school and received a college education after combat training, courtesy of the central government. Several years later his sister Michelle Riley suffered from a then-recently discovered illness present only on Mars, resulting in paralysis from the waist-down. Both Scott and Leon took a leave of absence to care for her until she recovered from the illness, however the paralysis persists. By this time, both parents have died of natural causes. Upon returning to duty in 4590, both brothers were assigned to different squads sent to perform the same mission: an assault on A2297-1, an asteroid colony in the A sector of the belt that served as a checkpoint for refugees between the outer solar system and a designated Martian Interplanetary Orbital Dominance Sector (MIODS). Alpha Team, to which Sgt. Riley had been assigned, was to infiltrate the colony as recon, with teams Bravo - Foxtrot to serve as the advance force to launch a coordinated surprise assault for the main forces to follow up. The rebel forces were anticipating our assault, however, and as a result Alpha team was nearly wiped out in a counter-ambush. By the time reinforcements had arrived, Sgt. Riley was mortally wounded and perished before medical aid could be provided. Despite overwhelming odds, Cmdr. Riley along with the remaining assault teams were able to completely destroy enemy forces before the central army's main forces arrived. For his bravery and dedication to completing the mission, Cmdr. Riley was awarded the EMA Medal of Valor. After his brother's death, Cmdr. Riley began to suffer from depression and PTSD. Mental therapy sessions were mandated by level 3 Class A personnel and after 14 weeks he made a nearly-full recovery. After observing a new and ideal personality type in Cmdr. Riley, Sabre staff approached him with the intent to induct him into the project. Cmdr. Riley consented and gave researchers full cooperation. As of 01/22/98, work on Sabre02 begins and is completed in 4 months based on research left over from Sabre01. Combat training and augmentation specialization testing commences and concludes within the next two months; Sabre02 is now ready for deployment. Specializations: Sabre02 is modeled after Sabre01 in terms of functionality. While other members of the Sabre team will be recruited and designed for specific purposes, S02 will be outfitted to handle every situation and cover every need. Because of this broad lack of specialization, individual Sabres who specialize in a field will likely preform at a higher level than S02. However, S02 will spearhead Sabre Operations on the ground. All Sabres are expected to follow orders issued by S02. - Basic and Advanced level training in each major weapons category, all formal martial arts training, and first-aid. S02 is outfitted to carry up to two [2] different high-caliber rifles, two [2] personal-arms handguns, and one [1] melee hand-held blade. - S02's SDS (Sabre Deployment Suit) is outfitted with energy shielding similar to SDS09. However, energy requirements by other features allow for less overall shielding potential. Note the formation of energy-based weaponry is not possible. - Medium plating armor balances protection and weight. Armor is outfitted with cartridge stores to hold excesses of ammunition - Energy propulsion capabilities installed on SDS02's back, palms and underside of feet. Short and powerful bursts can clear chasms, alter trajectory, and easily navigate in areas of low gravity. Sustained use allows for gravity defiance, and possibly flight. This second use must be used in moderation due to high energy consumption rate. - SDS02 is equipped with a broadsword, as mentioned above. It is forged from a composite alloy that is both light and durable, allowing for great ease of use. The edges are made of diamond, making this blade capable of cutting most physical materials without dulling. - Muscular, cardiovascular and respiratory enhancements for improved performance all-around. - Optical enhancements improving eyesight, allowing for farther vision as well as toggled vision modes including night vision, thermal, infrared and ultraviolet. - Active camouflage system which bends light around the suit, rendering it invisible to the naked eye. This technology is still in development, so it's uses are limited to being motionless and against targets which do not possess appropriate visual aid. - Reflex and coordination enhancements; S02's "human reaction time" has been improved to an average of 50ms, allowing for quicker and more decisive action in situations of stress. Due to physical constraints on S02's brain and nervous system, a specially-designed medication has been given to him. S02 is to carry as many doses as needed to carry out once-per-day use without skipping more than one day at a time. Command will provide S02 with an appropriate dosage at the outset of each mission. [SPECIAL NOTE: Any and all personal accompanying S02 on a mission must ensure S02 takes this medication on time. Failure to do so can result in [DATA EXPUNGED], as well as compromise the mission.] Enter Console command\| Logging off... Shutting down... Good bye.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges Saffron was more confused than ever about this new setup, chain of command was based on their assigned squad numbers? In that case Sgt Garron outranked SSgt Grayeson rather than the other way around, and all three sergeants out ranked Lt Indar. Worst of all a civilian outranked her. Unable to hold back any longer she quickly raised her hand and glanced down the line of chairs towards her new CO. "I'm sorry to speak out of turn Sir, but could I just clarify the chain of command? You said 'lowest number is in charge', does that go for all ranks?" She was sure she was making herself sound stupid, and the others already knew of her previous history with command, but if she really was to be treated as the junior amongst them she was certainly not going to let them make her inconsequential.</s> <\|message\|>Jax "Ghost Reaper" Orion Jax sat in silence as he normally did. His knife in hand he was spinning that blade around. Catching it in his hand as he spun around once more as he let rolling it on the back of his hand and then turning it catching it. Though as he did this he wasn't even watching it. His eyes focused on a spot on the table in front of him. He had read all the dossiers he was given on all of them. Looking through his memory was sharp, he watched them all as they sat in uncomfortable silence, well uncomfortable for the rest of them. For himself, and he figured 04, silence was a friend. Used to working in the field by them selves, days, weeks of silence. One wrong sound and you were dead. You learned to be a mouse, a mouse with very big weapons. 02 stood up and started to speak, speaking to the others about how they needed to break the ice. He was right they were a team, but Jax would have the least amount of interaction with them, in and off the the field. As a sniper you learned to keep a distance a certain distance from people, he was always looking at people though a Scope. Though as long as every one did their job Jax didn't see any problems. he would socialize with them, get to know them. He would always keep that distance from them. He watched as the Doc stood up, out of turn, and started to speak. He was boasting it seemed, which was something that Jax didn't understand. He wasn't new to the SPEC OPs community, he had spent most of his career in black ops. You didn't talk about it, you didn't boast. There was a certain respect about such things. Snipers never asked each other numbers, black ops never asked about Ops. Distance it all came down to distance. Soon enough things were back on tract. 03 stood up and started speaking. Though all of this he kept playing with his knife as his facial expression never changing as he listened to him speak. He was very direct and to the point, Jax Liked that. The one thing he noticed was that he was the only one with a call sign. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. His tags, said "Ghost Reaper" none of his field uniforms had name tapes. More then just nicknames Call signs kept real names out of it, during black Ops it was something that helped keep them safe as there Unofficial names meant that linking the soldier to the person was harder. 04 was next, it was short and sweet just as Jax expected. Next would be 05, but there was another interruption 09 stood up asking about rank. He personally felt like she deserved her spot. He read her record, she was volatile, acted with out thinking. People like that got others killed, she had gotten people killed. In his Black Ops world she wouldn't of lasted. Her little outburst only helped cement his opinion of her in his mind though. He spun his blade and caught it his eyes kept on that spot on the table as he expression had still yet to change.</s> <\|message\|>Scott Riley One by one the group introduced themselves. Somehow Scott knew that Dr. Sigmund would interject, that man almost couldn't get enough of himself. Arrogance can only take you so far in the social realm, but he knew that if he had even half of the qualifications the doctor had then he might be arrogant too. After the brief introduction, Sabre 03 Phayne stood up and did the same. The contrast was almost comical. Here was this hulking mountain of a man that could break several bones in each of our bodies if he really wanted to struggling to talk about himself. He was modest, and hard working. He would be a valuable asset to the team, as long as his empathy didn't cloud his judgement. Next in line was Sabre 04 Garron. Almost as if it was a contest, Garron made his introduction the shortest one yet. It is understandable that neither he nor Sabre 06 Orion would be much for talk, and Scott half expected them not to say anything at all since it was that hard just to interview them prior. Communication is a key component of any team however, and it was the leader's intent to make sure there were no obstacles preventing this. That includes during down time. Then, all the way on the other side of the room, a marginally higher voice spoke up. Sabre 09 Bridges, arm raised and poised at attention, had asked a question. having already spoken to her before, Scott knew that socially there would be far fewer problems with her than there would be tactical problems. Hopefully after a few missions she would understand exactly what she had gotten into, and find her niche in the spec-ops environment. Answering her question, Scott replied, "I didn't mention anything about an ascending or descending order. I simply said 'lowest number is in charge'. I'm the lowest number, so I'm in charge. That's all there is to it. To put it another way, you are all on equal footing and take orders from me, unless I temporarily grant the power to give orders to someone to meet the circumstances." With a slight welcoming gesture of the hand, he continued, "Now, since we're having a conversation why don't you go next?" A faint smile formed across his face as he crossed his arms and waited for a response.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges Saffron frowned, shaken with inner doubts over her CO's proclamation. She'd always worked within the standard operational protocols as part of her previous assignments and the idea of not having clear communication channels shook her up a little. What should the squad do in combat if Cmdr Riley went down without assigning a deputy, who would take charge? Taking a deep breath she pushed her doubts aside. This was no time to raise such concerns, with the squad gathered together, at best it would make her seem argumentative and petty and at worse it may undermine the Commander's authority. Besides she'd just been given an order. Jumping to her feet the Warrant Officer snapped off a salute to her CO before standing to attention and with her eyes focusing in the middle distance she began to speak. "Warrant Officer class one Saffron Bridges reporting for duty, Sir." She began, unsure exactly what the team would need to hear that hadn't been included in her file, "Specialist training in close combat and tactical planning, Sir." Having completed her breakdown Saffron fell silent, still standing to attention as she awaited a response.</s>	<\|message\|>Scott Riley Still smiling, Scott spoke to Saffron. "That's good and all, but why don't you share something about yourself? You know, so we believe you're a real person and not an android. It doesn't have to be big or interesting, just something small to break the mold. Also, don't use your former rank unless you are specifically stating that you are no longer that rank. You're a Sabre now, not a Warrant Officer." Scott was starting to have fun with this. The more awkward he made them feel now, the less there would be to deal with later.</s>
<\|description\|>Scott Riley Sabre02 WIP Earth-Time[ 4:29am, 7th, June, 4598 ] Enter Class S+ PIN and passcode to continue\| **********0001 -*********************** Checking... Access granted: User0001, welcome Mr. President. Enter Console command\| access[ data.********9264-02 ] Accessing database **********9264-02, Operation Shadow-Sabre Unit S02 dosier... Access complete, Loading... -Beta Stage: 7th, June, 4598 Notes[ Sabre02 dosier accessible as of ET 4:00 am on 6/7/4598 ] [ redirecting... ] [ done ] Sabre02 Dosier Military Rank: Commander Age: 37 Sex: Male Personality: Scott has been around the block so to speak; since joining the military he has become a different person than he used to be. Growing up on Mars he was quite amiable and outgoing, and this persisted into military service. After a traumatic encounter in the line of duty (disclosed below) he suffered from varied degrees of PTSD and depression. After therapy he returned to duty and flew through the ranks. He seems to think that becoming the best soldier possible will atone for his mistakes. As of now Scott is known to act in a stern, professional manner consistently. His role is that of a leader. Bearing this in mind, the only bond he wishes to form with his peers and subordinates is one of trust and dedication; friendship leads to more pain and should be avoided. Biography: Commander Riley was born and raised on Mars. He received an average middle-class education along with his brother and sister, and had two parents that were able to support him for his entire childhood. He and his brother Sargent Leon Riley both joined the the army after high school and received a college education after combat training, courtesy of the central government. Several years later his sister Michelle Riley suffered from a then-recently discovered illness present only on Mars, resulting in paralysis from the waist-down. Both Scott and Leon took a leave of absence to care for her until she recovered from the illness, however the paralysis persists. By this time, both parents have died of natural causes. Upon returning to duty in 4590, both brothers were assigned to different squads sent to perform the same mission: an assault on A2297-1, an asteroid colony in the A sector of the belt that served as a checkpoint for refugees between the outer solar system and a designated Martian Interplanetary Orbital Dominance Sector (MIODS). Alpha Team, to which Sgt. Riley had been assigned, was to infiltrate the colony as recon, with teams Bravo - Foxtrot to serve as the advance force to launch a coordinated surprise assault for the main forces to follow up. The rebel forces were anticipating our assault, however, and as a result Alpha team was nearly wiped out in a counter-ambush. By the time reinforcements had arrived, Sgt. Riley was mortally wounded and perished before medical aid could be provided. Despite overwhelming odds, Cmdr. Riley along with the remaining assault teams were able to completely destroy enemy forces before the central army's main forces arrived. For his bravery and dedication to completing the mission, Cmdr. Riley was awarded the EMA Medal of Valor. After his brother's death, Cmdr. Riley began to suffer from depression and PTSD. Mental therapy sessions were mandated by level 3 Class A personnel and after 14 weeks he made a nearly-full recovery. After observing a new and ideal personality type in Cmdr. Riley, Sabre staff approached him with the intent to induct him into the project. Cmdr. Riley consented and gave researchers full cooperation. As of 01/22/98, work on Sabre02 begins and is completed in 4 months based on research left over from Sabre01. Combat training and augmentation specialization testing commences and concludes within the next two months; Sabre02 is now ready for deployment. Specializations: Sabre02 is modeled after Sabre01 in terms of functionality. While other members of the Sabre team will be recruited and designed for specific purposes, S02 will be outfitted to handle every situation and cover every need. Because of this broad lack of specialization, individual Sabres who specialize in a field will likely preform at a higher level than S02. However, S02 will spearhead Sabre Operations on the ground. All Sabres are expected to follow orders issued by S02. - Basic and Advanced level training in each major weapons category, all formal martial arts training, and first-aid. S02 is outfitted to carry up to two [2] different high-caliber rifles, two [2] personal-arms handguns, and one [1] melee hand-held blade. - S02's SDS (Sabre Deployment Suit) is outfitted with energy shielding similar to SDS09. However, energy requirements by other features allow for less overall shielding potential. Note the formation of energy-based weaponry is not possible. - Medium plating armor balances protection and weight. Armor is outfitted with cartridge stores to hold excesses of ammunition - Energy propulsion capabilities installed on SDS02's back, palms and underside of feet. Short and powerful bursts can clear chasms, alter trajectory, and easily navigate in areas of low gravity. Sustained use allows for gravity defiance, and possibly flight. This second use must be used in moderation due to high energy consumption rate. - SDS02 is equipped with a broadsword, as mentioned above. It is forged from a composite alloy that is both light and durable, allowing for great ease of use. The edges are made of diamond, making this blade capable of cutting most physical materials without dulling. - Muscular, cardiovascular and respiratory enhancements for improved performance all-around. - Optical enhancements improving eyesight, allowing for farther vision as well as toggled vision modes including night vision, thermal, infrared and ultraviolet. - Active camouflage system which bends light around the suit, rendering it invisible to the naked eye. This technology is still in development, so it's uses are limited to being motionless and against targets which do not possess appropriate visual aid. - Reflex and coordination enhancements; S02's "human reaction time" has been improved to an average of 50ms, allowing for quicker and more decisive action in situations of stress. Due to physical constraints on S02's brain and nervous system, a specially-designed medication has been given to him. S02 is to carry as many doses as needed to carry out once-per-day use without skipping more than one day at a time. Command will provide S02 with an appropriate dosage at the outset of each mission. [SPECIAL NOTE: Any and all personal accompanying S02 on a mission must ensure S02 takes this medication on time. Failure to do so can result in [DATA EXPUNGED], as well as compromise the mission.] Enter Console command\| Logging off... Shutting down... Good bye.</s> <\|message\|>James Mathias Alexander James sighed as he stood among his fellow soldiers, he had kept quiet this entire time, considering the woman went on a childish rampage. The sniper acted unprofessional, waving his knife around and dishing out commands even though he was not the leader, people like them got someone killed. The woman already did, but the sniper had a lot of hidden records, which bothered him greatly. Men like him are never truly able to cohere with a team, this was not going to go well if they were going to keep this shit up. When he was deep in he NEEDED to bond with the team he was with, they needed to know every flaw, every skill, this made them men, and not just numbers. The guys with suits may not care for them, but they cared for each other, and that's what mattered. Even his command while he was in the Service cared, all of the big-wigs showed up to ONE man's funeral, and he was only a PFC, grant they couldn't always do it, but they did it whenever they could. To him, the Service was who he was, this sort of feeling made him adjust the leather coat he wore, it was a well-fitting leather jacket with his Battalion's symbol with the Winged Dagger of the S.A.S., on the dagger hung a gas mask. Above it read '23rd Battalion, He Who Dares Wins'. There was a reason he was picked for them, and this, he was the best at his profession, and those who matched him barely did so even before his augs. Now he was truly the best around with his kit, his augs, he was the most qualified in his eyes. At least for now, one day he would be replaced. Until that day comes however, he is gonna set one high fucking standard for whoever comes in after he does. His job was to control the fight, and even in the S.A.S with less than half the shit he had now he was one hell of a soldier, with his new drone, a Hollenhund. One lovely machine if he said so himself, a lovely amount of combat modifications gave him another soldier to fight with, this could make his life a lot easier. Running through the files of the other teammates, other than two he wanted to crack...Fucking wankers. The rest looked so much more worthwhile, and more tolerable. 6 and 9 had their skills, but they both seemed to be fatally flawed in a way that truly makes them butt heads pretty hard...This'll be fun indeed...Or so he hoped. Then his brain had a lightbulb and he spoke up rather randomly. "I apologize for not speakin' up earlier, James Mathias Alexander. A former S.A.S Scout and Unconventional Combat Specialist, I can high-jack any machine with nano-tech, or if you need someone isolated, I can get it done. I pretty much cause a shitstorm for our foes, giving us an opportunity to end an engagement early, or get the fuck outta dodge, whichever comes first. Oh! I also have a Masters in Robotics and a Bachelors in Nanotechnology, you can get that and more off my dossier. Alright, rant over." He quieted quickly and rolled his shoulders, trying to relax after that little speech. Fuck...He needed his gear, he was more comfortable in a military outfit, and in the field, not in a lift with people he didn't know worth shit.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges As she heard the Lt speak Saf quickly reached down to her wrist comp and pulled up his file, glancing over it and picking out the important details before turning her attention to the quiet 'Englishman'. Quickly running her eyes down his body Saf did a quick assessment. For a guy hitting his thirties Lt Alexander looked more like someone in their late teens. Either he'd taken really good care of himself or his family had enough money to pay for incredible thorough gene scrubbing in utero. Her money was on the former though, families who threw their money away on making sure their children were born with perfect genes tended to keep them at home rather than letting them enlist in potentially life threatening military careers. If he had come from money like that he'd more likely be the one sitting behind the monitor, beside Overwatch, than riding a freight elevator. "Special Air Service veteran? Where were you posted?" Before he had a chance to answer Saf quickly held up her hand with a smile, "Don't tell me. 'it's classified', right?"</s> <\|message\|>Jackson Indar Jackson remained silent for majority of the trip, eyes glued to the majestic scene of the Earth outside the viewport. It was awe-inspiring, and it was no surprise that it was a beacon of hope for the Conglomerate. Pulling his eyes away from the window and his mind back to reality, he began wondering about many things at once. What kind of gear are we gonna get? I know I'm a medic, but what kind of stuff will I be using? What about a gun? And what will everyone else use? Questions whizzed around Indar's head faster than he could answer them. Jackson turned his head to 05, who before that point had said nothing. "Well James, great to have you on board. As you probably know, Jackson Indar" Jackson introduced himself again, outstretching his arm to the other man for a handshake. "By god, this elevator has got to be almost there by now, right?" Jackson asked.</s> <\|message\|>Seth Garron Seth's mind began churning again with the new off-dossier info on the newly spoken tech savant. Hmm... More attempts at lowering off-duty tensions. Do these agents keep off-duty feelings while on the battlefield? Risky to do so. One would think that any feelings towards a teammate outside of combat would most logically be compartmentalized to off-duty, while during a mission, the most critical thing would be ensuring safety of as many operatives as possible. -Deductions: 05 and 09 will become closest, due to similar relationship-mending goals. 07 will be second-closest with 09. Also attempting to keep positive mannerisms with all teammates. -Note to self: check for social normality in keeping all team relationships positive. Video games have proven otherwise. Source - Alpha Protocol. Relationships built on "owing" one another in the form of favors and working together based on goals, not feelings. Internet search to follow... -Tactics: 05 would be optimal for flanking with robotics and numbers on his side. 09 would be second-best. They will most likely bond best; therefore, they could flank simultaneously, increasing flank effectiveness. Shields and robotics. Least casualties. The 'Tactics' note made Seth rethink the 'one-(wo)man distraction battalion', and now thinking of a two-man distraction armada, with 05's robots on his side.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges As the elevator finally ground to a halt the party were faced with a set of heavy cargo bay doors emblazoned with the sign A23F. Quickly stepping off the platform Saf made her way towards them, watching with a mixture of trepidation and excitement as the access hissed open in front of her. Pausing for a moment she looked back at her new CO, reminded for a moment that she still had to respect the chain-of-command, no matter how informal her commander liked to keep it. "Sir?" She asked cautiously, "Permission to proceed?"</s>	<\|message\|>Scott Riley Scott answered Saf's question, "Yes. Right this way, everyone." He led everyone to the door, stepping to the side in order to access the lock. It was a standard hand print lock, displaying a silhouette of a hand as it prompted authentication aloud. Placing his hand on the lock, a blue light appeared as a bar on-screen and swept from top to bottom. The scan finished, causing the door to slide open sideways away from the lock. "Alright everyone, you'll know what to do as soon as you step inside." Entering first, Scott couldn't help but smile as he saw each of the Sabre Suits lined up along the far wall, in numerical order. Varying in size and appearence drastically, they were a glorious sight to behold indeed. Proceeding to his suit, Scott began to outfit himself. In other spots on the walls and in crates on the floor were other supplies and armament, such as pistols, assault riffles, combat knives, grenades, first-aid kits, riot shields, and even a few launchers. This was an armory designed specifically for the current Sabres, and it certainly showed.</s>
<\|description\|>Cyprian Sigmund Accessing database ************9264-08, Operation Shadow-Sabre Unit S08 dosier... Access complete, Loading... -Beta Stage: 7th, June, 4598 Notes[ Sabre08 dosier accessible as of ET 4:00 am on 6/7/4598 ] [ redirecting... ] [ done ] Sabre-08 Military Rank None (Formally, Dr.) Age 37 Sex Male Appearance Cyprian stands at 182.88cm, and weighs 74.8427kg. His snow white hair hangs unkempt, barely reaching his bright blue eyes, and surpassing his ears. His face is rather sharp and lean in shape, but in no way malnourished or otherwise deprived. His broad shoulders and confident posture contradict his lack of significant muscle. One would not pin his body type to be that of a soldier. When not deployed, Cyprian wears a white and gray lab coat, black slacks, and black shoes. His attire is designed to stave off harmful chemicals. Personality Neutral Good Cyprian is a scientist first and foremost. Even as a Sabre, his job is that of his previous fields of expertise. He sees the Sabre project as not only a team, but a new opportunity for learning and experimentation. His optimism might slightly annoy the other Sabres at times, but they will quickly see his devotion towards making sure everyone gets home in one piece. Biography DOB: 12th, December, 4560 Sigmund was born and resided in Asteroid Sector 2575920-19485 until the age of seventeen [17]. There he attended standard primary and secondary tier education, showing exceptional academic skill in mathematical and scientific fields of study. At the age of seventeen [17], Sigmund relocated to the Martian Institute of Information Technology and Sciences. Until the age of thirty-seven [37], Sigmund maintained a 4.00GPA in all fields of study. However, his PhD's are only in the following fields. Note that each field is a broad spectrum, and each contains multiple actual doctoral studies: Engineering Computer and Information Science Mathematics Astronomy Atmospheric Science and Meteorology Chemistry Physics Dr. Sigmund's accomplishments in his doctoral studies is of great interest to Dr.[REDACTED]. Sigmund is to be contacted by Sabre-Recruitment Team, and deployed as Sabre 08. Specializations Skills Sigmund's vast intelligence and technological skills will be an asset to the Sabre Project. Subject has shown the ability to self-teach and therein operate foreign computer systems, recall inhuman amounts of information and knowledge with no outside aid, and has hundreds of patented inventions related to his fields of degrees. Augmentations Due to his role on the Sabre Project, Sigmund has received little in the way of Sabre-level augmentation, not receiving augs designed for combat.: Model AJHAP-255910 Electronic Sensory Nodes Implanted into cerebral cortex, enhancement of thought process and speed. Subject can store, recall and process information faster. Neurons now fire in excess of 500 times/second (compared to the average of 200/sec). Direct Wireless Binary Access Module This module is installed at the base of the skull. Allows subject to wirelessly connect to and control computer and operation systems. This is done by redirecting electrical pulses down the spinal cord to instead trip sensors in the module, which convert the pulses to binary code, and are wirelessly transmitted to the target. Subject can control the target system with thought-based commands. S08 Deployment Suit The S08 Model Deployment suit, like models S02 through S09, are all designed and built by Dr. Sigmund. Similarly to his augmentaitons, S08's SDS is not optimized for combat. Sabre OS Intergration The Sabre Operating System v8.0 is installed within this suit. The suit is a fully functioning computer, able to show displays on both the inside and outside of the visor, and on a tech-pad installed on the right wrist. System is optimized for the Binary Access Module. As long as user maintains connection to Overwatch, he can access all data that the user is cleared for. Plasma Energy Beam Fire-Arm S08 SDS is outfitted with an arm cannon on the left arm, set on the posterior side. Cannon is capable of firing many types of energy-based shots, including standard energy pulses, disruption beams, exothermic and endothermic rays, and high-concentration energy blasts. The PFA is highly useful but is out shined by standard firearms in raw stopping power. Temporal Stasis / Tractor Beam Utility-Arm Opposite the Plasma Fire-Arm is a similar energy based gun upon the right arm. However the energy types associated with the Temporal Utility-Arm are not optimized for combat. Instead, this tool can warp space. This has near unlimited uses, but is highly taxing upon the suit's energy reserve. Advisory against the use of the Temporal Utility-Arm in excess is recommended. Temporal Thrusters The space-warping energy of the TUA is also installed in the palms, soles and back of the S08 SDS. However, these installations are specialized to only allow for propulsion. Use of the Temporal Thruster is less taxing than the TUA, and presice angling of the hands, feet and torso can allow for full-directional movement.</s> <\|message\|>Scott Riley Watching as the first arguments already began, Scott couldn't help but let out a short laugh. "If you don't mind, you'll all have plenty of time to get your irks and quirks out of your system en-route to our mission. But for now, I would like to remind you all that we're in the presence of Overwatch, and as such you should all be on your best behavior." He waited a moment in silence, making sure everyone understood him. Turning in place to face the monitor, he rubbed his chin briefly and said, "My apologies, sir. please continue."</s> <\|message\|>SABRE TEAM "Thank you, Zero-Two. Now, I'm sorry to burst your bubbles, but this first assignment will not be on the field. This will be an exercise of sorts. It would be a grave mistake so send you out against the JFA without getting used to your new augmentations, equipment, and team-mates." Overwatch adjusted his glasses again and fixed his gaze on Cyprian. "Zero-Eight. Have you relocated the SDS's to designation Alpha Twenty-Three Foxtrot?" "Affirmative, sir. Models Zero-Two and Zero-Eight are test confirmed, and the other six models are fully functional and ready for testing." Cyprian responded in a normal tone, a method of speech new to his allies. "Very good. Zero-Two, lead your team to Alpha Twenty-Three Foxtrot, and have them suit up. Even though you and Zero-Eight are confirmed, I want you to partake in this assignment again."</s> <\|message\|>Seth Garron Seth's attention was brought back to Oh-Two talking about this sort of banter being done en route. This shouldn't continue past this room. En route should be spent strategizing an briefing of any sort that 02 can do. If we bicker en route, we'll surely bicker on the battlefield. Well, this time it would be on a training field of some sort. At least there's some soundness in their strategy, having us tested with these SMS's before being sent into a real firefight. Alpha Twenty-Three Foxtrot... A23F. It might help to remember that. My memory might become faulty before the time of its relevance... Someone should be able to remember. Once Overwatch had finished giving orders, Seth stood up and absent-mindedly saluted the figure on the screen, wobbling a bit as he stood up, still getting used to the bottoms of his feet not giving off any feeling, which forced Seth to calculate his balance by means other than his foot bottoms. Once he readjusted his balance, he turned to Oh-Two and made an 'after you' motion towards the door, ready to leave and finally have the mental challenge he'd been craving since arriving at the facility.</s> <\|message\|>Scott Riley "Yes, sir" Scott said to the monitor with a short salute. With that, the monitor powered down and a click could be heard from the door as it unlocked electronically. "Alright everyone, enough waiting around. Follow me." Leaving the room, there was a hallway spanning left-to-right. Once everyone was outside, Scott lead the group down the hall to the left. The facility they were currently located in was on Earth, and as such there was a certain high-class aesthetic about the building. Hardly any dust on the floors, the walls and ceiling free of marks or dents. After about three minutes of walking they stopped in front of a large gate. This was an elevator shaft, meant to be used by whole platoons and possibly even fit a small vehicle. As he called the elevator to the current floor, a low whirring sound came from below. It seemed like an eternity before the elevator finally reached the current floor. The gates opened, and Scott stepped onto the large platform which echoed a hollow metallic sound beneath his boots. "Everyone, please step onto the platform. We're heading down. Doc, you can take it from here."</s> <\|message\|>Jax "Ghost Reaper" Orion Jax sat in his chair as he stopped playing with his knife and soon returned it to the sheath on his belt. He waited for every member of the team to stand up and move out of the room before he finally fallowed suit. He was used to bringing up the rear, so it felt most familiar to him even in simple situations like this. Keeping a few steps back he fallowed everyone along the hallway. He looked around as he did as well. The building was so, clean and proper. He honestly hadn't seen anything like it in a very long time. Most of the time operating out of a ship or station, going to places that were even less well maintained some times. That was the nature of the beast though. Everyone on earth had power and money, it makes since that every thing is well maintained. Soon enough though they arrived at the elevator shaft. He kept to hime self and observed the others, watching them as they waited. After time seemed to pass by slower waiting on the elevator, but finally it arrived. Moving he leaned against the railings on the side of it. Even the rails on this fright elevator was sturdy. He'd been on some elevators that you doubted would make it the floor you wanted, and it was miracle when you did. Reaching up he pushed just underneath this left ear. The cybernetics in his eyes coming to life. Soon every one was highlighted and there names and saber numbers were shown. It even showed life signs. He assumed these were readings from there own IFFs. He decided to leave him active, as the elevator came to life and they were soon on there way to retrieve equipment.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges Saf could feel Sgt Orion walking behind her and it made her spine itch even more than the jack ports which had been installed down her back. She didn't trust him, and even though knew that when they were out in the field he would be watching over her she needed some kind of assurance he wouldn't be saving a round for her. Hanging back from the rest of the group slightly she took her chance as they waited for the elevator to turn on her new teammate with what she hoped was a friendly smile. "We good?" She asked, her tone level and precise. She'd noticed he didn't like talking much, so she kept her question as brief as she could.</s> <\|message\|>Seth Garron Seth raised his eyebrows at 09's question of her status with 06. Hmm... Her speech style has adapted to 06's speech patterns. She's not showing any emotion. Short, clipped sentence. She must be worried that a highly trained sniper would keep a grudge against his own teammate. Highly unlikely, since in combat, this team has greater things to think about than a tiff that occurred off the battlefield. His attire assumes that he's either been off duty for an extended period of time or he is either in or has recently been in highly secretive military/federal operations. The latter is most likely, since we're called 'the best of the best'. This leads to the assumption that 06 would not be motivated to assault, let alone kill, a member of his squad purely for a spat. Especially since it has the possibility of jeopardizing an operation. Once he got on the elevator with the others, Seth shifted his eyes over to 06 for a response. Meanwhile, he takes notes and makes predictions. -Calculation: 06 will use two or less words, including a slight nod of the head. Thus, 09 will either nod in response, if she continues this personality adaptation of 06, or she will smile and thank him, if she reverts to her own personality, originally exhibited in the briefing room. -Observation: 09 seems to be trying to get on people's 'good side', at least since her spat with 06. -Note: no biases or initial connotations should be used when speaking to 09 to avoid possible misinterpretations or aggravations. Trust, and possibly inferiority, issues have been causing extreme emotional bursts. Volatility could be a weakness. Or, redirected, can be a possible distraction method against enemy units. Hm... With the last two mental sentences, Seth contemplates the thought of 09 being used as a one-(wo)man distraction battalion.</s>	<\|message\|>Cyprian Sigmund "I certainly hope so, Zero-Nine. This will be a long ride." Cyprian answered Saffron's question, though it was directed at another. His tone returned to its bright and cheery attitude and stood out against hers. The elevator was one of industrial use, all eight occupants easily fit inside with plenty of room to spare. It was these kinds of lifts that would transport heavy machinery to different levels of the the structure. Cyprian selected the desired floor, and the lift lurched into motion. The lift's decent caused those inside to feel lighter in weight. In reality, the falling platform reduces the "normal force" that pushes against the people standing on it, since the object applying the force is moving away from the object that the force is being applied to. It is actually this normal force that is felt by a person standing on a surface. Therefore, the apparent gravitational force felt by those on the moving platform is reduced. Cyprian was very close to explaining all of this on the way down, were it not for the beautiful scenery that made itself visible through windows that would periodically flash past the elevator. Looking outside, Cyprian and anyone else who looked saw the starry backdrop of deep space shimmering behind beacons of light that marked the presence of satellite structures. The bright sun light peaked from around a massive body that covered almost all of the field of vision downward. Peering down, one could see white clouds swirling and streaking across vibrant blue oceans, and green masses of land. Off to the side was a grey sphere far off in the distance. Only the lower half of this sphere was illuminated. "Ahhhh... Earth truly is a magnificent sight, isn't she?" Cyprian held his head in his hands as he pressed his face against the window, a bit too eager to take in the view as the party descended closer and closer towards the planet's surface.</s>
<\|description\|>Cyprian Sigmund Accessing database ************9264-08, Operation Shadow-Sabre Unit S08 dosier... Access complete, Loading... -Beta Stage: 7th, June, 4598 Notes[ Sabre08 dosier accessible as of ET 4:00 am on 6/7/4598 ] [ redirecting... ] [ done ] Sabre-08 Military Rank None (Formally, Dr.) Age 37 Sex Male Appearance Cyprian stands at 182.88cm, and weighs 74.8427kg. His snow white hair hangs unkempt, barely reaching his bright blue eyes, and surpassing his ears. His face is rather sharp and lean in shape, but in no way malnourished or otherwise deprived. His broad shoulders and confident posture contradict his lack of significant muscle. One would not pin his body type to be that of a soldier. When not deployed, Cyprian wears a white and gray lab coat, black slacks, and black shoes. His attire is designed to stave off harmful chemicals. Personality Neutral Good Cyprian is a scientist first and foremost. Even as a Sabre, his job is that of his previous fields of expertise. He sees the Sabre project as not only a team, but a new opportunity for learning and experimentation. His optimism might slightly annoy the other Sabres at times, but they will quickly see his devotion towards making sure everyone gets home in one piece. Biography DOB: 12th, December, 4560 Sigmund was born and resided in Asteroid Sector 2575920-19485 until the age of seventeen [17]. There he attended standard primary and secondary tier education, showing exceptional academic skill in mathematical and scientific fields of study. At the age of seventeen [17], Sigmund relocated to the Martian Institute of Information Technology and Sciences. Until the age of thirty-seven [37], Sigmund maintained a 4.00GPA in all fields of study. However, his PhD's are only in the following fields. Note that each field is a broad spectrum, and each contains multiple actual doctoral studies: Engineering Computer and Information Science Mathematics Astronomy Atmospheric Science and Meteorology Chemistry Physics Dr. Sigmund's accomplishments in his doctoral studies is of great interest to Dr.[REDACTED]. Sigmund is to be contacted by Sabre-Recruitment Team, and deployed as Sabre 08. Specializations Skills Sigmund's vast intelligence and technological skills will be an asset to the Sabre Project. Subject has shown the ability to self-teach and therein operate foreign computer systems, recall inhuman amounts of information and knowledge with no outside aid, and has hundreds of patented inventions related to his fields of degrees. Augmentations Due to his role on the Sabre Project, Sigmund has received little in the way of Sabre-level augmentation, not receiving augs designed for combat.: Model AJHAP-255910 Electronic Sensory Nodes Implanted into cerebral cortex, enhancement of thought process and speed. Subject can store, recall and process information faster. Neurons now fire in excess of 500 times/second (compared to the average of 200/sec). Direct Wireless Binary Access Module This module is installed at the base of the skull. Allows subject to wirelessly connect to and control computer and operation systems. This is done by redirecting electrical pulses down the spinal cord to instead trip sensors in the module, which convert the pulses to binary code, and are wirelessly transmitted to the target. Subject can control the target system with thought-based commands. S08 Deployment Suit The S08 Model Deployment suit, like models S02 through S09, are all designed and built by Dr. Sigmund. Similarly to his augmentaitons, S08's SDS is not optimized for combat. Sabre OS Intergration The Sabre Operating System v8.0 is installed within this suit. The suit is a fully functioning computer, able to show displays on both the inside and outside of the visor, and on a tech-pad installed on the right wrist. System is optimized for the Binary Access Module. As long as user maintains connection to Overwatch, he can access all data that the user is cleared for. Plasma Energy Beam Fire-Arm S08 SDS is outfitted with an arm cannon on the left arm, set on the posterior side. Cannon is capable of firing many types of energy-based shots, including standard energy pulses, disruption beams, exothermic and endothermic rays, and high-concentration energy blasts. The PFA is highly useful but is out shined by standard firearms in raw stopping power. Temporal Stasis / Tractor Beam Utility-Arm Opposite the Plasma Fire-Arm is a similar energy based gun upon the right arm. However the energy types associated with the Temporal Utility-Arm are not optimized for combat. Instead, this tool can warp space. This has near unlimited uses, but is highly taxing upon the suit's energy reserve. Advisory against the use of the Temporal Utility-Arm in excess is recommended. Temporal Thrusters The space-warping energy of the TUA is also installed in the palms, soles and back of the S08 SDS. However, these installations are specialized to only allow for propulsion. Use of the Temporal Thruster is less taxing than the TUA, and presice angling of the hands, feet and torso can allow for full-directional movement.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges As she heard the Lt speak Saf quickly reached down to her wrist comp and pulled up his file, glancing over it and picking out the important details before turning her attention to the quiet 'Englishman'. Quickly running her eyes down his body Saf did a quick assessment. For a guy hitting his thirties Lt Alexander looked more like someone in their late teens. Either he'd taken really good care of himself or his family had enough money to pay for incredible thorough gene scrubbing in utero. Her money was on the former though, families who threw their money away on making sure their children were born with perfect genes tended to keep them at home rather than letting them enlist in potentially life threatening military careers. If he had come from money like that he'd more likely be the one sitting behind the monitor, beside Overwatch, than riding a freight elevator. "Special Air Service veteran? Where were you posted?" Before he had a chance to answer Saf quickly held up her hand with a smile, "Don't tell me. 'it's classified', right?"</s> <\|message\|>Jackson Indar Jackson remained silent for majority of the trip, eyes glued to the majestic scene of the Earth outside the viewport. It was awe-inspiring, and it was no surprise that it was a beacon of hope for the Conglomerate. Pulling his eyes away from the window and his mind back to reality, he began wondering about many things at once. What kind of gear are we gonna get? I know I'm a medic, but what kind of stuff will I be using? What about a gun? And what will everyone else use? Questions whizzed around Indar's head faster than he could answer them. Jackson turned his head to 05, who before that point had said nothing. "Well James, great to have you on board. As you probably know, Jackson Indar" Jackson introduced himself again, outstretching his arm to the other man for a handshake. "By god, this elevator has got to be almost there by now, right?" Jackson asked.</s> <\|message\|>Seth Garron Seth's mind began churning again with the new off-dossier info on the newly spoken tech savant. Hmm... More attempts at lowering off-duty tensions. Do these agents keep off-duty feelings while on the battlefield? Risky to do so. One would think that any feelings towards a teammate outside of combat would most logically be compartmentalized to off-duty, while during a mission, the most critical thing would be ensuring safety of as many operatives as possible. -Deductions: 05 and 09 will become closest, due to similar relationship-mending goals. 07 will be second-closest with 09. Also attempting to keep positive mannerisms with all teammates. -Note to self: check for social normality in keeping all team relationships positive. Video games have proven otherwise. Source - Alpha Protocol. Relationships built on "owing" one another in the form of favors and working together based on goals, not feelings. Internet search to follow... -Tactics: 05 would be optimal for flanking with robotics and numbers on his side. 09 would be second-best. They will most likely bond best; therefore, they could flank simultaneously, increasing flank effectiveness. Shields and robotics. Least casualties. The 'Tactics' note made Seth rethink the 'one-(wo)man distraction battalion', and now thinking of a two-man distraction armada, with 05's robots on his side.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges As the elevator finally ground to a halt the party were faced with a set of heavy cargo bay doors emblazoned with the sign A23F. Quickly stepping off the platform Saf made her way towards them, watching with a mixture of trepidation and excitement as the access hissed open in front of her. Pausing for a moment she looked back at her new CO, reminded for a moment that she still had to respect the chain-of-command, no matter how informal her commander liked to keep it. "Sir?" She asked cautiously, "Permission to proceed?"</s> <\|message\|>Scott Riley Scott answered Saf's question, "Yes. Right this way, everyone." He led everyone to the door, stepping to the side in order to access the lock. It was a standard hand print lock, displaying a silhouette of a hand as it prompted authentication aloud. Placing his hand on the lock, a blue light appeared as a bar on-screen and swept from top to bottom. The scan finished, causing the door to slide open sideways away from the lock. "Alright everyone, you'll know what to do as soon as you step inside." Entering first, Scott couldn't help but smile as he saw each of the Sabre Suits lined up along the far wall, in numerical order. Varying in size and appearence drastically, they were a glorious sight to behold indeed. Proceeding to his suit, Scott began to outfit himself. In other spots on the walls and in crates on the floor were other supplies and armament, such as pistols, assault riffles, combat knives, grenades, first-aid kits, riot shields, and even a few launchers. This was an armory designed specifically for the current Sabres, and it certainly showed.</s> <\|message\|>Jackson Indar Indar smiled as he entered the armory. The clean, steel walls were lined with suits, armour and weaponry, ready just for them. Indar approached the suit on the wall with '07' over it in simple block numbers. Walking over, he examined the suit he'd be wearing. It was made up of two parts, a rough cloth material in a tan sort of colour and blue armour plates over the top, covering his arms, lower legs, torso and head. There was also a table in front of the suit, with his equipment laid out on it. Immediately catching his eye was an assault rifle. It had a strange magazine, almost octagonal in shape. He found it strange, but assumed that it would probably hold more ammo that way. Moving on, there was a white pistol with a revolver barrel. The barrel, instead of pushing out to one side and spinning to reload, half of the barrel would push out either way, and cartridges would be loaded that way. Strange weapons, but they look effective Indar remarked in his head. He moved on to the seven thin and long cylindrical objects next to the guns. They looked similar, but two of them were different from the other five. Five of them had three short, needle-like extrusions at the bottom and a white button at the top. The other two had a pin at the top and were slightly shorter and thicker. It took Jackson a second to realise what he was looking at. They were advanced med-kits, injected into the arm. They alleviated pain and kept people alive for longer. The other two were things he didn't even know existed. They were healing grenades, and when thrown towards allies, a burst of chemicals and nanites would rejuvenate and heal his allies. Impressed by the developers, Jackson began suiting up, the med-kits and grenades fitting nicely on one side of the belt, and his revolver on the other. There was one other thing on a small shelf underneath the table. It was a white box with a red cross on it. There was a small note on a piece of paper sitting on the box. "In case all else fails... :)" Indar read aloud as he retrieved the first-aid box. The handle of the box fit nicely on two hooks located on his lower back. Jackson smiled once more as he looked down at all the advanced Sabre gear he was wearing. "I think I'm gonna like it here" He remarked.</s>	<\|message\|>Cyprian Sigmund "Finally, let us see if my intuition and study has allowed for the most ergonomic integration." Cyprian wondered out loud as he approached his suit. Each outfit was sealed within either own large glass cylinder, with a base of machinery and computational systems displaying information. Cyprian places his hand on the screen in front of his suit, as Scott did to open the door. After doing this, the glass rose from around his suit, and he pulled it out of its chamber. The flexible grey and black exoskin was a separate entity from the silver and white armor that would lay around it. After slipping on the skin and donning the armor, he tapped a screen on his wrist, and several lights began to blink and glow across his wrists and around his visor. On each arm, machinery moves down from his shoulders to his forearms, and piece themselves together into two cannon-like items. These cannons rest on the outside of his forearms, keeping his hands free. "Ahh yes, this feels good." He said as he stretches and flexes in the armor, testing its mobility and expressing satisfaction with his agility. "What do the rest of you think? Each of these suits have been designed specially for you. Try them on! I hope you will enjoy them."</s>
<\|description\|>Jax "Ghost Reaper" Orion Sabre06 Military Rank: Sargent Age:28 Sex:Male Appearance: Personality: Ghost is a quite, reserved man, Cautious and patient believing in the saying, always appear less then you are. He tends to keep to himself and speaks mostly only when necessary. Despite that he is a very compassionate and protective. It takes him awhile to truly trust people but once he does he is very loyal to his friends and would protect them with his life. On a mission he has learned away to focus on a goal and push down all emotion, his old unit used to say he went "Ghost" which is how he earned his nickname. Biography: Jax is from a military family, his family joining the military as long as they can trace back. So it wasn't much of a surprise when he him self joined. Unlike most it was a very easy transition, but Jax wanted to challenge himself. So instead of simply enlisting as a foot soldier he shot for Spec Ops. He knew it was going to be hard, the selection process alone was hard. Only a hand full out of the hundreds of candidates even being picked. After several months he was finally selected, he shipped out and was heading for some of the most grueling training there is. He went with nearly 200 initiates, out that nearly 95% of them wouldn't make it. Training was nothing like he imagined. They would be awake for nearly a week at a time, send them on ops where they would have to sleep wherever they could. Which wasn't hard considering how tired everybody was. It was designed to test there endurance and fortitude as they were put in the worst conditions they could think up, cold, heat, even low garv situations and whatever else some sick sadistic mind thought of. In a six month training process there class was reduced down to half before the end of there 2nd month. Durning that Six months even Jax had thought about quitting, though the instructors had already starting calling him the Ghost as the apparently liked to call everyone by some sort of nickname. After awhile though time started to mean nothing. They would get a few days to rest but most spent those days studying for there the test they have to take besides the physical. It seemed like it would never end, but one day it finally came. Jax and 12 others graduated and would be placed in the field. Jax moved out and was instantly put to work. Working in special forces he spent years out on the field, earth being a distant memory as it was always one op after another. After many operations though his Commander recommended him for Scout sniper. More then just his ability it was his calm demeanor and patients. His natural ability to suppress everything and focus on his goals was also noticed as in the middle of a fire fight once he "Ghosted" it was like nothing was evening happening. This also meant more training, another six months off the field. Scout sniper training was a whole new kind of battle. They were trained to operate on there own: Survival skills, moving unseen, how to spot position, build snipers nest, how to calculate how a bullet will travel over long distances. Shooting itself was less important then knowing when to shoot. They took hours ingraining muscle memory into there habits and how to survey every situation they were in. He graduated in the top ten of his class, 6th to be more specific. But he got lucky. He was assigned a new team that was almost immediately sent out. He worked in the field before he was approached, he wasn't the best shot but he was a well rounded soldier. Because of this he was selected to join the Sabre Program. Specializations: Natural Ability: Survival skills Over watch Stealth Expert marksman Mechanical SKills Augmentations: Augmented skin: His entire epidermal lay has been lined with a thin membrane that acts as a filter as well as oxygen abosrbers and microscopic air scrubbers. This allows him to breath through his skin as well as filter the air from contaminants protecting him from most kinds of Airborne toxins. They also link up to his Suit, measuring humidity and other environmental factors Cybernetic optics: His eyes have been replaced with cybernetic ones. This gives him enhanced optics as well as giving him multiple vision modes, to include thermal, night and night. They also link directly in the optics of his helmet and and weapon allowing him to have lest visual obstructions as the three also work together to process ranges, measure wind speed even allowing him to see how much light is on him and any other information can be scent right to him. Cerebral system Inhibitor: An Implant that allows his his mind to go a week with out sleep. By systematically shutting down qudrants of the brain it allows him not to get mentally fatigued. When need be it reactivates any parts resting so that he is back at 100%. This however doesn't erase the need for sleep, after a week he will sometimes sleep for two days or longer depending on how taxing the assignment was. Saber O6: His suit is a lightweight offering less protection for more mobility as well as linking into his own augmentations. It also contains a fluids and nutrient systems for if he has to spend long periods of time in the field with out food or water, it also has a filtration system for some, other bodily functions. His suit is a self contained environment system as well, taking readings and adjusting so that he can handle almost any enviroment.</s> <\|message\|>Scott Riley "Yes, sir" Scott said to the monitor with a short salute. With that, the monitor powered down and a click could be heard from the door as it unlocked electronically. "Alright everyone, enough waiting around. Follow me." Leaving the room, there was a hallway spanning left-to-right. Once everyone was outside, Scott lead the group down the hall to the left. The facility they were currently located in was on Earth, and as such there was a certain high-class aesthetic about the building. Hardly any dust on the floors, the walls and ceiling free of marks or dents. After about three minutes of walking they stopped in front of a large gate. This was an elevator shaft, meant to be used by whole platoons and possibly even fit a small vehicle. As he called the elevator to the current floor, a low whirring sound came from below. It seemed like an eternity before the elevator finally reached the current floor. The gates opened, and Scott stepped onto the large platform which echoed a hollow metallic sound beneath his boots. "Everyone, please step onto the platform. We're heading down. Doc, you can take it from here."</s> <\|message\|>Jax "Ghost Reaper" Orion Jax sat in his chair as he stopped playing with his knife and soon returned it to the sheath on his belt. He waited for every member of the team to stand up and move out of the room before he finally fallowed suit. He was used to bringing up the rear, so it felt most familiar to him even in simple situations like this. Keeping a few steps back he fallowed everyone along the hallway. He looked around as he did as well. The building was so, clean and proper. He honestly hadn't seen anything like it in a very long time. Most of the time operating out of a ship or station, going to places that were even less well maintained some times. That was the nature of the beast though. Everyone on earth had power and money, it makes since that every thing is well maintained. Soon enough though they arrived at the elevator shaft. He kept to hime self and observed the others, watching them as they waited. After time seemed to pass by slower waiting on the elevator, but finally it arrived. Moving he leaned against the railings on the side of it. Even the rails on this fright elevator was sturdy. He'd been on some elevators that you doubted would make it the floor you wanted, and it was miracle when you did. Reaching up he pushed just underneath this left ear. The cybernetics in his eyes coming to life. Soon every one was highlighted and there names and saber numbers were shown. It even showed life signs. He assumed these were readings from there own IFFs. He decided to leave him active, as the elevator came to life and they were soon on there way to retrieve equipment.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges Saf could feel Sgt Orion walking behind her and it made her spine itch even more than the jack ports which had been installed down her back. She didn't trust him, and even though knew that when they were out in the field he would be watching over her she needed some kind of assurance he wouldn't be saving a round for her. Hanging back from the rest of the group slightly she took her chance as they waited for the elevator to turn on her new teammate with what she hoped was a friendly smile. "We good?" She asked, her tone level and precise. She'd noticed he didn't like talking much, so she kept her question as brief as she could.</s> <\|message\|>Seth Garron Seth raised his eyebrows at 09's question of her status with 06. Hmm... Her speech style has adapted to 06's speech patterns. She's not showing any emotion. Short, clipped sentence. She must be worried that a highly trained sniper would keep a grudge against his own teammate. Highly unlikely, since in combat, this team has greater things to think about than a tiff that occurred off the battlefield. His attire assumes that he's either been off duty for an extended period of time or he is either in or has recently been in highly secretive military/federal operations. The latter is most likely, since we're called 'the best of the best'. This leads to the assumption that 06 would not be motivated to assault, let alone kill, a member of his squad purely for a spat. Especially since it has the possibility of jeopardizing an operation. Once he got on the elevator with the others, Seth shifted his eyes over to 06 for a response. Meanwhile, he takes notes and makes predictions. -Calculation: 06 will use two or less words, including a slight nod of the head. Thus, 09 will either nod in response, if she continues this personality adaptation of 06, or she will smile and thank him, if she reverts to her own personality, originally exhibited in the briefing room. -Observation: 09 seems to be trying to get on people's 'good side', at least since her spat with 06. -Note: no biases or initial connotations should be used when speaking to 09 to avoid possible misinterpretations or aggravations. Trust, and possibly inferiority, issues have been causing extreme emotional bursts. Volatility could be a weakness. Or, redirected, can be a possible distraction method against enemy units. Hm... With the last two mental sentences, Seth contemplates the thought of 09 being used as a one-(wo)man distraction battalion.</s> <\|message\|>Cyprian Sigmund "I certainly hope so, Zero-Nine. This will be a long ride." Cyprian answered Saffron's question, though it was directed at another. His tone returned to its bright and cheery attitude and stood out against hers. The elevator was one of industrial use, all eight occupants easily fit inside with plenty of room to spare. It was these kinds of lifts that would transport heavy machinery to different levels of the the structure. Cyprian selected the desired floor, and the lift lurched into motion. The lift's decent caused those inside to feel lighter in weight. In reality, the falling platform reduces the "normal force" that pushes against the people standing on it, since the object applying the force is moving away from the object that the force is being applied to. It is actually this normal force that is felt by a person standing on a surface. Therefore, the apparent gravitational force felt by those on the moving platform is reduced. Cyprian was very close to explaining all of this on the way down, were it not for the beautiful scenery that made itself visible through windows that would periodically flash past the elevator. Looking outside, Cyprian and anyone else who looked saw the starry backdrop of deep space shimmering behind beacons of light that marked the presence of satellite structures. The bright sun light peaked from around a massive body that covered almost all of the field of vision downward. Peering down, one could see white clouds swirling and streaking across vibrant blue oceans, and green masses of land. Off to the side was a grey sphere far off in the distance. Only the lower half of this sphere was illuminated. "Ahhhh... Earth truly is a magnificent sight, isn't she?" Cyprian held his head in his hands as he pressed his face against the window, a bit too eager to take in the view as the party descended closer and closer towards the planet's surface.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges As she watched the starscape slide past the viewport Saf couldn't help but be taken aback. SHe'd seen the station when she'd arrived, but the passenger shuttle had had its back to Earth and so all she'd seen were the stark metal columns and support braces holding the structure together, something she'd seen hundreds of times before during her military career. The sheer overwhelming beauty of the Earth took her breath away every time she saw it though and today was no exception. It was good to have such an obvious reminder of exactly what they were fighting for, especially before what was sure to turn out to be a very dangerous mission. Tearing her eyes away from the blue pearl for a moment Saf eyed her new CO carefully, was this a deliberate form of manipulation on his part? After all, it would've made far more sense to have had the team muster in the bay they were in transit to rather than the briefing room which had had a distinct lack of briefing.</s>	<\|message\|>Jax "Ghost Reaper" Orion Jax shockingly remained quite during the elevator trip. He heard Saf's question but honestly didn't think to dignify it with a response, His personal feelings on her wouldn't change after just a few minutes. With Saf though that answer would simply stir things up. He kept leaning against the railing as soon he looked up and out the window to see the earth outside that view port. It had been a very long time. This being closest he had been to the 3rd rock in nearly a decade. Looking at it though he felt little attachment, His family was military he spent most of his life in an orbiting station where his parents where. Looking at that rock he didn't even really know what it looks like on the surface, his only extended time there was for his training when he initially joined and again when he Went to scout sniper. Some of the others were more overwhelmed by the site as he looked back down. His eyes closed as he reached up and scratched the under side of his chin. Though he hit something and his eye site changed. Looking up mostly everything was black, except for a blue glow that emitted from things, Wires, the motor of the elevator, looking at his team some of the bigger implants had lit up. Apparently he had EMF...something that could be useful, Reaching up he clicked it again, a thermal vision, Every thing was in black and white, hotter objects glowed white as colder were darker and black, he looked around seeing his teammates, one thing he noticed is that they were hot, hotter than normal people. That is something he would keep in mind for the future. Clicking again there was a night vision, though he flinched a bit and quickly clicked it over back to his normal tactical mode. He wished there was a form of what he called 'thumper' vision. It was simple and picked up vibrations, it helped cause it showed heart beats. Though for now he wouldn't worry about it, He was sure they would have calibrations and regular maintenance and would bring it up then.</s>
<\|description\|>Jackson Indar Apologies for taking so long, here's Sabre07. Sabre07 Military Rank: Lieutenant Age: 27 Sex: Male Appearance: Personality: Jackson is a loyal and trustworthy soldier, following all commands given to him by superiors and peers. He is also intelligent and flexible, able to facilitate multiple commands and objectives at one time. He can be stubborn at times, always believing that he can save everyone. He can occasionally have a short-temper, snapping out at anything that annoys him. But if he hurts someone on his team or someone he cares for, because of his temper or not, he is quick to apologise and make up for his transgressions. He easily forgives people, but only once. Jackson is a doing person, prefering to create and execute plans then tell people how to do the plan and sit back. He also dislikes bureaucracy and logistics. Doing is more important than saying to Jackson. Biography: Born and raised on the Mars colony, Jackson was born to be in the army. He was loyal and followed orders to a T. His parents did all that they could to give him a good education and upbringing, and deed he wishes to repay. He enlisted to join the millitary the moment he was old enough and showed extreme proficiency with any firearm he wielded. His fellow soldiers all respected him and admired him. Jackson was in a great place in life. He had gotten a promotion from Officer Cadet to Lieutenant and wanted nothing other than for his effort to mean something. If he could leave a mark on this world, no matter how small, he would be happy. Higher ups in the army began observing Jackson during training exercises. Jackson couldn't remember when they first began showing up, but they would always observe Jackson during firing drills and physical exercises, scribbling notes down on their clipboards. They gave Jackson the shivers, but he payed no mind first. Obviously they would want to see how their soldiers are doing, right? But Jackson became more suspicious as time went on, always seeing them with their tablets and their clipboards. Then, at the end of a private firing drill, he was approached by a scientist and two men in suits. They simply asked him to come with them. After travelling through a maze-like facility, he was briefed on the Sabre initiative and that he had been chosen as the 7th Sabre. They told him about how he could become an ultimate soldier, selling Jackson imediately. The augmentations went without a hitch. Specializations: Skills: -Small-arms training -Advanced first-aid -Battle tactics -Three different Earth languages (French, German and Mandarin Chinese) Augmentations: Jacksons' body, skin and organs contains countless microscopic nanites who passively increase the ouput of organs and muscles and allow him several different abilities. Everything requires a certain amount of time to pass before they can be used again. These are also taxing on Jackson and cause pain when used too often. -Nanite Overshield: Jackson can use the nanites in his skin and flesh to increase small arms resistance for a short time. -Nano-Regen Device: For a short time, Jackson can use medical nanites to heal him and remove bullets imbedded in him. Also has a small radius that slowly heals teammates inside the radius (about two metres in diameter). -Nanite Fabrication: Jackson can use metalic objects to both synthesize nanites and use nanites to synthesize other objects (eg Ammo). This ability is particularly dangerous and can cause excruciating pain and even permanent defects, such as desensitization in his fingers and arms. -Nanite Respiration: Does what it says on the box, helps him breath in low oxygen environments. -Jetpack: Jacksons' suit is also equipped with a jump jet system in a pack on his back. It slowly synthesises its' own fuel if left alone for a while, but can also be manually refilled. (I don't know how balanced he is, so if you want me to change something, just say so)</s> <\|message\|>James Mathias Alexander James sighed as he stood among his fellow soldiers, he had kept quiet this entire time, considering the woman went on a childish rampage. The sniper acted unprofessional, waving his knife around and dishing out commands even though he was not the leader, people like them got someone killed. The woman already did, but the sniper had a lot of hidden records, which bothered him greatly. Men like him are never truly able to cohere with a team, this was not going to go well if they were going to keep this shit up. When he was deep in he NEEDED to bond with the team he was with, they needed to know every flaw, every skill, this made them men, and not just numbers. The guys with suits may not care for them, but they cared for each other, and that's what mattered. Even his command while he was in the Service cared, all of the big-wigs showed up to ONE man's funeral, and he was only a PFC, grant they couldn't always do it, but they did it whenever they could. To him, the Service was who he was, this sort of feeling made him adjust the leather coat he wore, it was a well-fitting leather jacket with his Battalion's symbol with the Winged Dagger of the S.A.S., on the dagger hung a gas mask. Above it read '23rd Battalion, He Who Dares Wins'. There was a reason he was picked for them, and this, he was the best at his profession, and those who matched him barely did so even before his augs. Now he was truly the best around with his kit, his augs, he was the most qualified in his eyes. At least for now, one day he would be replaced. Until that day comes however, he is gonna set one high fucking standard for whoever comes in after he does. His job was to control the fight, and even in the S.A.S with less than half the shit he had now he was one hell of a soldier, with his new drone, a Hollenhund. One lovely machine if he said so himself, a lovely amount of combat modifications gave him another soldier to fight with, this could make his life a lot easier. Running through the files of the other teammates, other than two he wanted to crack...Fucking wankers. The rest looked so much more worthwhile, and more tolerable. 6 and 9 had their skills, but they both seemed to be fatally flawed in a way that truly makes them butt heads pretty hard...This'll be fun indeed...Or so he hoped. Then his brain had a lightbulb and he spoke up rather randomly. "I apologize for not speakin' up earlier, James Mathias Alexander. A former S.A.S Scout and Unconventional Combat Specialist, I can high-jack any machine with nano-tech, or if you need someone isolated, I can get it done. I pretty much cause a shitstorm for our foes, giving us an opportunity to end an engagement early, or get the fuck outta dodge, whichever comes first. Oh! I also have a Masters in Robotics and a Bachelors in Nanotechnology, you can get that and more off my dossier. Alright, rant over." He quieted quickly and rolled his shoulders, trying to relax after that little speech. Fuck...He needed his gear, he was more comfortable in a military outfit, and in the field, not in a lift with people he didn't know worth shit.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges As she heard the Lt speak Saf quickly reached down to her wrist comp and pulled up his file, glancing over it and picking out the important details before turning her attention to the quiet 'Englishman'. Quickly running her eyes down his body Saf did a quick assessment. For a guy hitting his thirties Lt Alexander looked more like someone in their late teens. Either he'd taken really good care of himself or his family had enough money to pay for incredible thorough gene scrubbing in utero. Her money was on the former though, families who threw their money away on making sure their children were born with perfect genes tended to keep them at home rather than letting them enlist in potentially life threatening military careers. If he had come from money like that he'd more likely be the one sitting behind the monitor, beside Overwatch, than riding a freight elevator. "Special Air Service veteran? Where were you posted?" Before he had a chance to answer Saf quickly held up her hand with a smile, "Don't tell me. 'it's classified', right?"</s> <\|message\|>Jackson Indar Jackson remained silent for majority of the trip, eyes glued to the majestic scene of the Earth outside the viewport. It was awe-inspiring, and it was no surprise that it was a beacon of hope for the Conglomerate. Pulling his eyes away from the window and his mind back to reality, he began wondering about many things at once. What kind of gear are we gonna get? I know I'm a medic, but what kind of stuff will I be using? What about a gun? And what will everyone else use? Questions whizzed around Indar's head faster than he could answer them. Jackson turned his head to 05, who before that point had said nothing. "Well James, great to have you on board. As you probably know, Jackson Indar" Jackson introduced himself again, outstretching his arm to the other man for a handshake. "By god, this elevator has got to be almost there by now, right?" Jackson asked.</s> <\|message\|>Seth Garron Seth's mind began churning again with the new off-dossier info on the newly spoken tech savant. Hmm... More attempts at lowering off-duty tensions. Do these agents keep off-duty feelings while on the battlefield? Risky to do so. One would think that any feelings towards a teammate outside of combat would most logically be compartmentalized to off-duty, while during a mission, the most critical thing would be ensuring safety of as many operatives as possible. -Deductions: 05 and 09 will become closest, due to similar relationship-mending goals. 07 will be second-closest with 09. Also attempting to keep positive mannerisms with all teammates. -Note to self: check for social normality in keeping all team relationships positive. Video games have proven otherwise. Source - Alpha Protocol. Relationships built on "owing" one another in the form of favors and working together based on goals, not feelings. Internet search to follow... -Tactics: 05 would be optimal for flanking with robotics and numbers on his side. 09 would be second-best. They will most likely bond best; therefore, they could flank simultaneously, increasing flank effectiveness. Shields and robotics. Least casualties. The 'Tactics' note made Seth rethink the 'one-(wo)man distraction battalion', and now thinking of a two-man distraction armada, with 05's robots on his side.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges As the elevator finally ground to a halt the party were faced with a set of heavy cargo bay doors emblazoned with the sign A23F. Quickly stepping off the platform Saf made her way towards them, watching with a mixture of trepidation and excitement as the access hissed open in front of her. Pausing for a moment she looked back at her new CO, reminded for a moment that she still had to respect the chain-of-command, no matter how informal her commander liked to keep it. "Sir?" She asked cautiously, "Permission to proceed?"</s> <\|message\|>Scott Riley Scott answered Saf's question, "Yes. Right this way, everyone." He led everyone to the door, stepping to the side in order to access the lock. It was a standard hand print lock, displaying a silhouette of a hand as it prompted authentication aloud. Placing his hand on the lock, a blue light appeared as a bar on-screen and swept from top to bottom. The scan finished, causing the door to slide open sideways away from the lock. "Alright everyone, you'll know what to do as soon as you step inside." Entering first, Scott couldn't help but smile as he saw each of the Sabre Suits lined up along the far wall, in numerical order. Varying in size and appearence drastically, they were a glorious sight to behold indeed. Proceeding to his suit, Scott began to outfit himself. In other spots on the walls and in crates on the floor were other supplies and armament, such as pistols, assault riffles, combat knives, grenades, first-aid kits, riot shields, and even a few launchers. This was an armory designed specifically for the current Sabres, and it certainly showed.</s>	<\|message\|>Jackson Indar Indar smiled as he entered the armory. The clean, steel walls were lined with suits, armour and weaponry, ready just for them. Indar approached the suit on the wall with '07' over it in simple block numbers. Walking over, he examined the suit he'd be wearing. It was made up of two parts, a rough cloth material in a tan sort of colour and blue armour plates over the top, covering his arms, lower legs, torso and head. There was also a table in front of the suit, with his equipment laid out on it. Immediately catching his eye was an assault rifle. It had a strange magazine, almost octagonal in shape. He found it strange, but assumed that it would probably hold more ammo that way. Moving on, there was a white pistol with a revolver barrel. The barrel, instead of pushing out to one side and spinning to reload, half of the barrel would push out either way, and cartridges would be loaded that way. Strange weapons, but they look effective Indar remarked in his head. He moved on to the seven thin and long cylindrical objects next to the guns. They looked similar, but two of them were different from the other five. Five of them had three short, needle-like extrusions at the bottom and a white button at the top. The other two had a pin at the top and were slightly shorter and thicker. It took Jackson a second to realise what he was looking at. They were advanced med-kits, injected into the arm. They alleviated pain and kept people alive for longer. The other two were things he didn't even know existed. They were healing grenades, and when thrown towards allies, a burst of chemicals and nanites would rejuvenate and heal his allies. Impressed by the developers, Jackson began suiting up, the med-kits and grenades fitting nicely on one side of the belt, and his revolver on the other. There was one other thing on a small shelf underneath the table. It was a white box with a red cross on it. There was a small note on a piece of paper sitting on the box. "In case all else fails... :)" Indar read aloud as he retrieved the first-aid box. The handle of the box fit nicely on two hooks located on his lower back. Jackson smiled once more as he looked down at all the advanced Sabre gear he was wearing. "I think I'm gonna like it here" He remarked.</s>
<\|description\|>Jackson Indar Apologies for taking so long, here's Sabre07. Sabre07 Military Rank: Lieutenant Age: 27 Sex: Male Appearance: Personality: Jackson is a loyal and trustworthy soldier, following all commands given to him by superiors and peers. He is also intelligent and flexible, able to facilitate multiple commands and objectives at one time. He can be stubborn at times, always believing that he can save everyone. He can occasionally have a short-temper, snapping out at anything that annoys him. But if he hurts someone on his team or someone he cares for, because of his temper or not, he is quick to apologise and make up for his transgressions. He easily forgives people, but only once. Jackson is a doing person, prefering to create and execute plans then tell people how to do the plan and sit back. He also dislikes bureaucracy and logistics. Doing is more important than saying to Jackson. Biography: Born and raised on the Mars colony, Jackson was born to be in the army. He was loyal and followed orders to a T. His parents did all that they could to give him a good education and upbringing, and deed he wishes to repay. He enlisted to join the millitary the moment he was old enough and showed extreme proficiency with any firearm he wielded. His fellow soldiers all respected him and admired him. Jackson was in a great place in life. He had gotten a promotion from Officer Cadet to Lieutenant and wanted nothing other than for his effort to mean something. If he could leave a mark on this world, no matter how small, he would be happy. Higher ups in the army began observing Jackson during training exercises. Jackson couldn't remember when they first began showing up, but they would always observe Jackson during firing drills and physical exercises, scribbling notes down on their clipboards. They gave Jackson the shivers, but he payed no mind first. Obviously they would want to see how their soldiers are doing, right? But Jackson became more suspicious as time went on, always seeing them with their tablets and their clipboards. Then, at the end of a private firing drill, he was approached by a scientist and two men in suits. They simply asked him to come with them. After travelling through a maze-like facility, he was briefed on the Sabre initiative and that he had been chosen as the 7th Sabre. They told him about how he could become an ultimate soldier, selling Jackson imediately. The augmentations went without a hitch. Specializations: Skills: -Small-arms training -Advanced first-aid -Battle tactics -Three different Earth languages (French, German and Mandarin Chinese) Augmentations: Jacksons' body, skin and organs contains countless microscopic nanites who passively increase the ouput of organs and muscles and allow him several different abilities. Everything requires a certain amount of time to pass before they can be used again. These are also taxing on Jackson and cause pain when used too often. -Nanite Overshield: Jackson can use the nanites in his skin and flesh to increase small arms resistance for a short time. -Nano-Regen Device: For a short time, Jackson can use medical nanites to heal him and remove bullets imbedded in him. Also has a small radius that slowly heals teammates inside the radius (about two metres in diameter). -Nanite Fabrication: Jackson can use metalic objects to both synthesize nanites and use nanites to synthesize other objects (eg Ammo). This ability is particularly dangerous and can cause excruciating pain and even permanent defects, such as desensitization in his fingers and arms. -Nanite Respiration: Does what it says on the box, helps him breath in low oxygen environments. -Jetpack: Jacksons' suit is also equipped with a jump jet system in a pack on his back. It slowly synthesises its' own fuel if left alone for a while, but can also be manually refilled. (I don't know how balanced he is, so if you want me to change something, just say so)</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges As she stepped into the testing area Saf heard the scientists' voices calling in through the radio built into her suit's helmet, "All you have to do is eliminate the turrets." That seems a little too easy, Saf thought to herself, she'd been in the same position on the battlefield a dozen times or more. All she had to do was keep in cover and move around to the turret's weak rear side in order to shut it down. As she sood waiting for the test to start, expecting panels to rise out of the floor to provide simulated battlefield terrain, Saf was surprised to see six turrets rising up out instead. Okay, they did say turrets, now where's the cover? Without warning the turrets began firing, steady streams of energy pulses tracking round towards the soldier as she stood in the empty space between them. By reflex Saf pulled her arms up to protect her face, feeling the surge of energy from the implants inside her body as she did. Saf's shielding sprung to life just as the first pulse hit, splattering harmlessly against the glowing field surrounding her. Okay, well that works too, she thought to herself as she stood in the middle of the maelstrom of energy, unharmed thanks to the wonders of modern technology, but how do I take the turrets down? Remembering back to her mishap in the armoury Saf reached her hand out towards the nearest turret and concentrated, instantly causing a beam of light to project from the focusing len set into her palm. The beam stopped short of the turret, stabilising as a blade about a meter long. Not quite what I hoped for, she thought with a smile, So it's a sword, I can work with that. Pushing off with her leading foot Saf had planned to sprint towards the turret, but instead she found herself launched several feet into the air, leaping clear of the turrets' energy blasts as the automated guns pivoted to try and catch up with her swift movements. Quickly recovering herself Saf shifted her weight, spinning vertically in the air to drop herself down behind the turret she'd been heading for. Woah, cool, she thought, reaching back and effortlessly slicing the turret in half with her blade, before quickly darting to one side as the others locked in on her once more. This is going to be easy! Pushing herself as fast as she could move Saf darted towards the next turret, dodging from side to side to avoid getting hit by the energy bolts flying towards her from its emitter lenses. Projecting blades from both hands to slice the turret into pieces she jumped forwards through the mechanical remains, using them for cover to close with the third. In less than a minute the soldier stood standing in the middle of the training arena surrounded by the sparking and burning machine parts which moments before had been the turrets. Looking up at the surveillance cameras recording her performance Saf relaxed, letting her blades and shielding snap off leaving her in the middle of the darkened chamber, lit only by the burning debris. "Is that all you got?" She asked, smiling inside her helmet.</s> <\|message\|>Jax "Ghost Reaper" Orion Soon a voice came over his helmet "Ghost, Go through the door on your left, proceed down the hall then forth door on the left. We have a shooting gallery for you." Ghost nodded and walked off fallowing the directions he was provided as he was in a very long room, he could barely see the end of it as he tried to focus down on it, his eyes and suite zoomed in but even then. "Ok ghost we are going to bring up some sighting target,gather ammo from the table, lay down at the line, also each time you nod it gives a green conformation light, it will do this to your squad as well. Shake it and we get a red one." Ghost nodded as there was a table with clips for his gun, he moved and placed three of them on the ground before un-hooking the gun from his chest he laid it down to the right, easier to grab if need be. Soon pulling out his rifle he un-folded the bi-pod as he put the forth 10 round magazine into the clip he laid down resting it on that stand. Bringing the stock to his shoulder as he leaned his head looking through the sight of his scope. His interface came up giving him the range to the back of the wall, 6000meters...damn. "Ok so your weapon is standard affair, built in flash suppressor and that, oh so useful, sound suppressor...cause those work so well on silencing the thunder from the .50 caliber round. Good news the recoiling barrel works" This guy was a bit of a sarcastic asshole, he kind of liked him. Looking down soon a target came up in front of him, the range read out displayed 500 meters. "Ok now, hold your breath like normal, but don't stop. Your skin now can breath and provide oxygen to your heart mixing with your blood, it's safer that way as well since you can filter out toxins" Ghost paused a moment before nodding his head. He looked down his scope as he reached forward pulling the bolt of his rifle back before pushing it forward placing a round into the chamber. His finger ran along the top of the trigger guard before he brought it down, placing it over the trigger he held his breath. His scope steady he squeezed down on the trigger. There was a "silent" bang echoing through hall, though his helmet dampened the sound, his hand came up pulling the bolt back as the round was ejected and another chambered as he slid it back forward. Three the degrees, down, four to the right. After making his adjustments he pulled the trigger as it was dead on. He saved the settings before the target went down and the next one opened up at a 1000 meters, rinse repeat. He did this again for 1500, 2000, 3000 and then 5000. To think that back in the day shots like this would be deemed impossible, joys of modern tech. "Ok, so at this moment we don't just needed the gun calibrated, most of the testing we were able to do before you all got here, now we just need to test maneuverability." Ghost nodded again as he stood up, placing the the rifle back around as he then pickd up that rifle and placed the Magazines on pockets in his chest. walking back over he loaded up with three mags for his assault rife, and three for his pistol . These went into pouches on his hip. "Ok proceed to the door across the hall." Nodding he walked across the hall to the next room. Obstetrical course with targets, line at the floor as he moved up to it. Slipping a mag into his Rifle he smacked the bottom locking it in place as he looked forward through that Acog scope "Ok simple battle simulation...Have fun" Soon a red dot appeared and he flipped the rifle into single shot on his Hud before it turned green and he moved. Soon holographic targets came up, with out hesitation he rose his rifle and and squeezed off a round as the hologram went down. Shots fired at him as he moved sliding into cover. His tac display had fired, up, showing directions of the sound as he looked over, looking it marked were the sound was coming from. Popping out of cover he squeezed off a round taking them down. He moved cover to cover, sliding over obstetrical and squeezing off rounds as he moved quickly. They were intensifying the training, it started out as just a few guys at a time, now it was a god damn army, Sarcastic asshole. Dropping a mag he brought a new one into his gun before pulling back the slide to chamber the first round before moving out. He dropped his gun and pulled his pistol out as he entered a room, three shots and he moved in. He moved with efficiency as soon the hologram died down. "Ok good to go, everything held up fine. Have to say these are some of the best scores I've seen in awhile, Nearly every shot to the heart or other vitals. Good job, you can rejoin your group of marry men" Sarcastic Asshole. Ghost moved rejoining his team back in the man room and looked around before finding a crate and sitting on it. Waiting for the rest of the team to finish, though he wondered where you could go to get a good drink.</s>	<\|message\|>Jackson Indar Jackson was excited to test his new equipment. He had seen some of the other walk off to test area to try out their suits and equipment. "Ok Jackson, we're ready to test now" A voice said through a helmet mounted microphone. Jackson walked out of the armoury and towards the designated testing area, ready for what they would throw at him. Needless to say, he was disappointed at the small room with a small pile of assorted scrap objects. "What the f...." Jackson began, but the helmet mic cut him off. "Ahem, Jackson Indar, are you ready to commence training?" The feminine voice asked. "Uh, I guess" Jackson said as he retrieved his assault rifle. "Ah, there's no need for that Indar. We know you can shoot a gun. But do take your sidearm and reload it please, just to show you understand it" Jackson obeyed and put his assault rifle back on his back, and instead took the revolver off of his leg. There were two buttons, one on either side. Jackson pressed one of the buttons and half of the barrel pushed out, revealing three chambers for cartridges. Loading them up, he did the same for the other side. "Good. Now I'd like you to use a medikit on yourself. Simply pla-" The pretentious voice began again, and Indar simple rolled his eyes and obeyed. "Yeah, yeah, I know what I'm doing" Jackson said dryly. He placed the tube against his upper arm and pressed the button on top. He felt a small prick as the microscopic needles punctured both skin and clothing, filling him with medical nanites. "Ahem, well then. For your information, medikits can also be used on others, and even through heavy armour. Now they are typically one use only, so used them wisely. But, if necessary, you, and only you, can refill them with your nanites. There will be a replacement waiting for you outside the door. Now, as you probably know, you can change scrap metals into more useful objects. Try making some of your revolver cartridges with the scrap over there. Three will do" The pretentious woman continued. Jackson sighed and approached the scrap, picking up a piece of metal. With a small bit of effort, the metal scrap turned into a battle ready cartridge. "Good job. I'm sure you've been informed of your other abilities. Underwater breathing, healing nanites. You're ready to fight Jackson" The voice finally stopped and Indar was free to leave the room. He picked up the replacement medkit and navigated back to the armoury where he came from.</s>
<\|description\|>SABRE TEAM S02 - Scott Riley (MercuryHg34) [Sabre Squad Leader / Jack-of-all-Trades] S03 - Rory Phayne (Rhymer) [Heavy Weapons / Assault Combat] S04 - Seth Garron (Dragonite777) [Stealth / Reconnaissance] S05 - James Alexander (Shadowman215) [Decoy / Scout] S06 - Jax Orion (GhostReaper) [Precision Combat / Survival] S07 - Jackson Indar (nk1506) [Medic / Tactician] S08 - Cyprian Sigmund (Light) [Information / Technology] S09 - Saffron Bridges (SimplyJhon) [Tank / CQC]</s> <\|message\|>Jackson Indar Jackson was excited to test his new equipment. He had seen some of the other walk off to test area to try out their suits and equipment. "Ok Jackson, we're ready to test now" A voice said through a helmet mounted microphone. Jackson walked out of the armoury and towards the designated testing area, ready for what they would throw at him. Needless to say, he was disappointed at the small room with a small pile of assorted scrap objects. "What the f...." Jackson began, but the helmet mic cut him off. "Ahem, Jackson Indar, are you ready to commence training?" The feminine voice asked. "Uh, I guess" Jackson said as he retrieved his assault rifle. "Ah, there's no need for that Indar. We know you can shoot a gun. But do take your sidearm and reload it please, just to show you understand it" Jackson obeyed and put his assault rifle back on his back, and instead took the revolver off of his leg. There were two buttons, one on either side. Jackson pressed one of the buttons and half of the barrel pushed out, revealing three chambers for cartridges. Loading them up, he did the same for the other side. "Good. Now I'd like you to use a medikit on yourself. Simply pla-" The pretentious voice began again, and Indar simple rolled his eyes and obeyed. "Yeah, yeah, I know what I'm doing" Jackson said dryly. He placed the tube against his upper arm and pressed the button on top. He felt a small prick as the microscopic needles punctured both skin and clothing, filling him with medical nanites. "Ahem, well then. For your information, medikits can also be used on others, and even through heavy armour. Now they are typically one use only, so used them wisely. But, if necessary, you, and only you, can refill them with your nanites. There will be a replacement waiting for you outside the door. Now, as you probably know, you can change scrap metals into more useful objects. Try making some of your revolver cartridges with the scrap over there. Three will do" The pretentious woman continued. Jackson sighed and approached the scrap, picking up a piece of metal. With a small bit of effort, the metal scrap turned into a battle ready cartridge. "Good job. I'm sure you've been informed of your other abilities. Underwater breathing, healing nanites. You're ready to fight Jackson" The voice finally stopped and Indar was free to leave the room. He picked up the replacement medkit and navigated back to the armoury where he came from.</s> <\|message\|>James Mathias Alexander James sighed as the others proceeded through their respective training courses, then the female voice popped in his earpiece that linked to his optic. "Alright James, you're up." He nodded quietly and stood up, proceeding to his respective training area. First off there was your basic firing range, simple enough, he strode to a booth and slapped a mag into his SMG, grasping the foregrip and pressing the stock into his shoulder. "The SMG is calibrated already, just need to get data on you." After that, targets began popping up, each one taken down with tight focused bursts. Some targets moved slightly, some dived for cover. Each one got picked off quick, and soon the range was empty, his clip included. "Grab your shotgun, that needs to be tested." He nodded and strode back to the door, then turned toward the next range, only to see a holo jump out at him. Quick as a wink he flicked his shotgun up and squeezed the trigger, blasting the target with buckshot, though when it hit the wall, it burned through the metal. "Thermite ammo...Nice." He said quietly, the voice popped up again, with a cockier tone. "Like my trick?" He shook his head and sighed, this one thought they were witty? "Not really, pretty boring." He smiled in his rebuttal, waiting for her to be offended, but she didn't. Instead she ushered him to a room with drones and stationary targets. "Take a charge and jack one of the drone turrets here, then order it to take out a target, then make it destroy itself." He nodded and slapped a charge on the closest turret, stepping back as he remotely detonated it, and watched as nanites seep into the machinery, slowly taking it over as the info of the turret popped into his HUD. "Freaky shit.." He thought aloud as he watched the final processes be under his command. "Alright, lets do this shit." He ordered it to destroy the targets, which it did, but when it shot the turret. The turret registered as friendly after the first shot, the nanites had coated the ammo and now act as a virus, infecting the machine it attacks. "Impressed?" the female voice asked, rather proud of herself. He nodded and chuckled "Color me impressed miss, that's fucking amazing. Even in college this shit was just a theory." She replied smoothly with a curt "Yes, but now we need to see how it works on moving units, don't worry, nothing will try and kill you." In his thoughts were the words: 'That is reassuring..' he sighed and proceeded forward as he saw a large tank-like drone (envision one of the drones from Black Ops 2). "Just place a charge." He did so, placed a charge, detonated it, soon he had control of this as well. He then ordered it to move, he had to sigh of boredom. Primarily since he was used to thick jungles and every day being a risk. "Soon you'll be in-field 05, just be patient, now command the drone to move and shoot." Using the interface he had in his optic, he did so. Though the machine didn't fire, instead in informed him it lacked ammo. The voice came up again. "Alright, thats good on interface testing, your personal drone is in the next room, use your retinal interface to take over the drone and see the room." She lied, he was watching the armory, everyone registered as friendlies on the drones FFID software. Then he heard the sound of holo footsteps, and immediately hid behind his larger drone. "Use one of your Seeker Mines to handle these holograms." He nodded and rolled it towards the noise, only hearing the thump of it launching, and the miniature explosions from its cluster bombs hitting the ground. "Alright James, you're good. All data calibrated." He nodded and returned to his allies, impressed with what was available, and how quick his interface went on and off.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges Walking back down to her locker after finishing her training session Saf almost bumped into Sgt. Garron. "Whoa, sorry I didn't..." She started to say, holding her hand up by way of apology. Immediately her suit took over, projecting a shield wall forwards and pinning Seth back against the rack of guns behind him. For a moment Saf didn't know what was happening, before recognising the golden yellow glow which surrounded her own suit being created in front of her. Gentle lowering her hand she watched the wall fade into nonexistence before bending down towards where Seth lay crumpled on the floor, "Sorry about that too... I guess these suits will take a little getting used to." She said with as friendly a tone as she could, holding her hand out and offering to help her teammate back up onto his feet.</s> <\|message\|>Seth Garron Seth didn't notice 09 walk by, but was going to wave off her apology. He wasn't able to due to the wall of energy her outstretched hand created, which, due to the force of its creation, pinned Seth against the weapons rack with his feet an inch or two off the ground. Once the female teammate realized it was her suit that had created the hard place that pinned Seth between it and the rock that was the weapons rack, she made it disappear with a releasing gesture. Once gone, Seth fell to the ground, catching himself on one foot and one knee. He was still getting used to the lack of nerve endings on his feet bottoms, or he would have stayed up on his feet. Interesting, gesture-based restricted energy fields. Useful for defensive and offensive tactics. Exponentially so for defensive, yet innovative uses may create more offensive possibilities. Note made. 09 seems to offer help and friendliness, which may just due to the fact that I haven't said anything towards her, forcing paranoia of possible negative feelings. Previously noted to keep her in a positive mood while outside combat to avoid possible battlefield quarrels; therefore, accepting her help and reciprocating positive attitude towards her would be most beneficial to avoiding possible future volatility. After deliberating and rationalizing, while feigning impact shock, Seth clasped his hand on the woman's forearm and used his own strength to get up, releasing once he regained balance. "Agreed." Nodding with a slight, forced smile, Seth checked his person to make sure nothing fell out, namely his boot-knife. That's all he saw as necessary to reply to 09's talk of the calibration of the self-to-suit integration. Small talk didn't interest him, but analysing the rest of the team's post-calibration conditions would seem to be priority, as there would be hurdles to overcome with having suits that acted as though they were exoskeletons for each person, enhancing their natural abilities further than the augmentations done on them have. Remembering the pores on his neck and the fact that they'd put a gauze pad over them post-operation, Seth lowered his suit's neck line to take off the gauze and test out his new breathing abilities. After sliding the neck line up, he was able to breathe without inhaling from his nose or mouth. After a few moments of consciously switching breathing patterns around, he was able to balance the pore-breathing and nostril breathing, causing almost no noticeable breathing noise from him. Almost completely silent when standing still and moving, with his feet made to make as close to no noise as possible.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges After helping Sgt. Garron to his feet Saf was a little unnerved by his unnatural smile and quickly turned her gaze away glancing down the row of lockers at the other Sabers before turning back to the strong silent one in front of her, "So, what toys did they give you?" She asked as Sgt. Garron picked at something on his neck. As she waited for a response something seemed... wrong with the former sergeant, and for a moment Saf couldn't quite place her finger on what it was, but suddenly it dawned on her. "Hey, are you alright?" She asked, her voice worried as she reached forwards and took hold of Sgt. Garron's arm, "Did you stop breathing or something?"</s> <\|message\|>Seth Garron Seth cocked an eyebrow and pulled his arm from 09's grasp. "Breathing pores: allows near-silent breathing." Deciding that it's courteous to continue to answer her question, Seth adds, "synthetic foot pads: silent steps when barefoot. Seventy-percent nightvision mode. Chameleon camo function in suit. ... Yours?" Getting through everything with minimal wording, Seth figures it's customary in conversation to ask the other about a subject with which each can describe, list, or otherwise talk about. This is the most interaction Seth has had with a live female since before his right brain shut down. Interesting. Compassionate towards teammates, even though volatile. Not afraid to cause pain nor relieve it. Very interesting dynamic. Or simply trying to gain favor after the events in the briefing room. Should keep an eye on emotional levels throughout the training mission. Find high and low points and their causes. Seth nods at 09 before turning and joining the others who have finished their self-suit integration calibration.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges Lifting her arms Saf activated her shielding and her blades, giving Sgt. Garron the full light show. "Protective shields and what I think are variable-yield emitters in the gauntlets. I'm still getting a hang on those." As she explained the Warrant Officer tried imagining different sized blades and to her delight the long sharp beams shortened and widened, changing from what she thought of as lances to machetes and finally to shovels. When she tried to pull them back further a gauge suddenly appeared on her HUD and the gauntlets whined for a moment before sending a wave of force up into the ceiling, leaving a noticeable dent in the armoured plating there. "Okay, and they can be overcharged to act as some sort of recharging ranged attack." She said, watching as the gauge slowly began to shrink. Saf tried to activate her blades again but the emitters just glowed weakly for a moment before cutting out. "Gotta be careful with that though, seems it breaks the blade emitters at least for a short while, there's a gauge here that seems to be indicating the recovery time." Saf tapped at her faceplate to indicate to Sgt. Garron what she was talking about, as she knew the HUD was probably an internal projection not visible to others. "There's also some sort of rainbow strength gauge over here," She continued, moving her hand to the other side of her helmet, "Which I think is something to do with the shielding. It flickered slightly while under constant attack by six training turrets, but I've no idea how much of an indication of actual shield strength." Turning to look over Sgt. Garron's shoulder Saf called down the room to the Sabre standing at the locker beside hers. "Hey, Dr. Sigmund? You said earlier you were involved with the creation of these... systems," She said, waving her hand down the front of the top-of-the-line, form-fitting, technological marvel of a cybersuit, "I was just wondering what the maximum protective power the shielding on my suit could withstand? In terms a soldier could understand, if you can."</s>	<\|message\|>SABRE TEAM "Well, the short answer is 'a lot.' More so than the rest of us, actually." The doctor responded from the front of the testing course. He, alongside Scott, were already used to the suits. His voice echoed through the helms of all the Sabres as he spoke through radio. "Each suit was designed to compliment your strengths while covering your weaknesses. The capabilities of offense, defense, mobility and utility appropriately vary among all of us to begin with, and so too should any equipment you use."</s>
<\|description\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name Party Roster Hundred Kira - @Tenish the Mighty - Docking Bay Control Room - Active Sevyn Spades - @TTwoThumbsUp - Docking Bay Control Room - Inactive Marga - @Bonjour xx - Docking Bay Control Room - Active Farvis Kren - @TheUnknowable - Docking Bay Access Corridor - Inactive Mez - @Kalas - Docking Bay Access Corridor - Inactive Simon Brewer - @DJAtomika - Docking Bay Control Room - Active James "JR" Rourke - @TheMadAsshatter - Retired Red hatched areas are currently exposed to space and inaccessible for characters not in full EVA gear. Character Sheet Race: Species or sub-species. No defined limits here so feel free to pick any species appearing in popular culture or just make up your own. If your race has any special inherent abilities please be sure to list them below. Appearance: A basic description of the character's overall appearance and common attire, or a photo reference if possible. Personality: Simple psychological profile for your character, giving details of their main motivations and outlook on life. Skills: An outline of the training and abilities of the character. These come in five levels of proficiency: Amateur, Proficient, Experienced, Skilled, Expert. I'd recommend limiting the character to a maximum of five skills with two class or profession skills, two general skills and one combat skill. For example a Mechanic might have Expert Engineering and Expert Mechanics as class skills, Skilled Driver and Experienced Salesman as general skills and Proficient Brawler as a combat skill. Non-standard Abilities: This section is for unique abilities for the character's species, as well as any personal abilities they may have. I'd recommend an absolute maximum of three of these, but would counsel for only one or two in most cases. Equipment: Here you should give details of the main pieces of equipment the character usually carries with them when going on a high-risk mission. I'd recommend taking one or two weapons, at least one piece of class or profession-specific equipment, a set of armour or protective clothing, some form of communications gear and any utility or survival gear you feel would be appropriate. Bio: A brief (two or three paragraph) history of the character detailing where they're from, their current life circumstances and their reason for being included on the mission. Quote: An example of something the character is likely to say, giving an insight into their personality and general life attitude.</s> <\|message\|>Hundred Kira Many neuro-plastic printings were coded into every Gygan before completion. Vocational training and data. Standard overview of Consortium internal policies and procedures. A familial, slavish loyalty to the Consortium. And a xenophobic disdain for other client species. Some might be surprised that for the culture of the Consortium, an entity ostensibly devoted to free enterprise, money and trade were seen as an unclean if necessary business. Internally, the Consortium had no sense of private enterprise. For the Gygans, all labor and the products thereof were to be utilized solely for the betterment of the Consortium as a whole, guided and directed by the unseen master's of Gyges. From the Gygan perspective, trade with outside civilizations was an act of charity and vulgar communication between the Consortium and cultures to ignorant to see their perfect system. Aliens were to be pitied, looked down upon, and be carefully directed through Gyges' ubiquitous, economic influence. Hundred was not a typical Gygan, she had divorced herself from the Consortium and all that it represented. She had learned to be skeptical of her internal programming with a violent intensity that bordered upon blind hate. Hundred sneered to herself at the barbarians around her. Not all of her programming had been proven wrong by experience. Perhaps they would prove themselves useful, non-Consortium powers were not without perspicacity. Her would-be comrades must have been chosen for some reasons and with some logic, flawed though it may be. Their problem solving skills, however, did not seem to be one of those reasons. She looked over at the one fiddling with his quaint firearm as he voiced his impatience. Well he wasn't wrong. Hundred stood from her seat at the far end of the shuttles seating. The Dust shifted and reoriented itself in the air, a golden shimmer from countless phasic transference events signifying their activity. Hundred's fluttered near her face, millions of programmable particulate rushed around her head, compacting, coalescing, constructing into the sealed helmet of her suit. She walked over to the airlock, more particulate filtering into the activation circuit, cycling the internal aperture into an open position. Stepping inside the Dust flooded in after her from the cabin, one final wisp remaining to cycle the hatch shut behind them. Hundred sniffed in the closed, quiet confines of her freshly constructed helmet, activating her suits comm. Clear, curt, and dripping with disdain, Hundred's husky voice materialized from the shuttle cockpit's speakers. "Open the airlock, pilot. I will get us inside."</s> <\|message\|>Sevyn Spades The excitement was almost palpable for a certain Syndari heading toward a certain famed, lost, recently relocated, and positively massive ship who was practically jumping up and down in her seat, the drone in her lap protesting profusely in angry whirrs and chirps with the precise translation appearing on her HUD. That, or the nitrogen oxidizers in her mask were malfunctioning and she was currently having a seizure. Either way, nothing went against the fact that Sevyn was indeed traveling toward the infamous Lone Star, lost only a decade earlier than today. Stories of its disappearance were as varied and countless as the stars, the possible secrets and treasures it held even more so. There were many schematics available for the ship, booming especially in popularity in the first few solar years that it disappeared with almost all of them naturally fake. The true schematics for the one-of-a-kind ship was a jealously guarded secret of its creators, rumored to be hidden in the ship itself with all the workers that had worked on its construction being silently killed off (or at least that was how the most popular theory went). Either way, Sevyn knew this was once-in-a-lifetime chance and would not spend it by concerning herself with the specifics like who her teammates were or what was she actually sent to do on the ship. All she needed to know was that they were there, and they would help her discover all there was to learn about the ship. Of course there was the snag of how she was supposed to actually get inside the vessel, which proved to be quite the conundrum with the lack of power in the ship and the presumably extended nature of the mission. While all her teammates provided all semi-worthwhile suggestions of how to get inside, she was already getting her Ardie ready to provide a quick surface scan on the ship, but then the pilot beat her to it when he pointed out a nearby airlock that the team of ragtag misfits could enter through. Assuming that the ship used standard sizes for all its doors, the shuttle could theoretically dock with the ship. The only problem was that the docking tube for variety of shuttle that they were riding in was extremely, designed only to be used to dock with another shuttle or lifepod, which meant that correctly aligning the tube would require the skills of utmost top pilots - skills which Sevyn most certainly possessed, but perhaps not which their current pilot did if her prior experience working with United Alliance Navy single-craft pilots were anything to go by. Otherwise, assuming the ship worked with standard airlocks, there would be a manual latch both inside and outside that the party could open without needing any power from the ship and from there, possibly the greatest moment up until now for the Syndari. "Listen flyboy," she said, the flanging in her voice reverberating around the passenger bay, "if you think you can dock us with the airlock, aces! But if not, why not let me take the shuttle for a spin. You do know who I am right? Sevyn Spades? Kind of a big deal in the Syndarin systems? We'll be in and out before you know it."</s> <\|message\|>Mez Fire. It was all he could see whenever he closed his eyes. Brilliant, raging flames burning throughout the universe, spreading from one planet to the next. Engulfing each world and every life-form that inhabited them, leaving nothing but cinders and smoke in their wake. It had been a recurring vision for just over a year now. At first, Mez had thought it was just a nightmare, something to keep him awake at night. But as time went on, as he began to force himself to see more of the vision, he soon realized that it was a warning of events that would eventually come to pass. He hadn't needed any help or spiritual guidance to interpret what the fire represented or, rather, who it represented. The Visipian Government were still searching for him, which had only served to increase their rate of expansion. He knew it wouldn't be long now. Here, on the other side of the galaxy, the Visipians would arrive and war would be thrust upon all of them. Mez opened his eyes only to be greeted to the same, cramped transport shuttle as the one he'd first set foot on three hours prior. The only difference being the small buzz of activity that had arisen now that they'd nearly reached their objective; The Lone Star. A mysteriously abandoned ship that had randomly arrived in system, seemingly of its own accord. Mez had never believed in ghost stories, however, which is why he was fiddling with his combat blade. The tip of it precariously placed in the middle of his palm whilst he nonchalantly spun it at the handle. If the ship had arrived in system, it was because someone had meant for it to. And the only way for that to occur would be to have someone on board to pilot it. So whether the rest of them believed it was empty or not, it didn't matter. He would be ready to take down whatever it was that wanted them on that ship. He scoured the shuttle for the hundredth time. Some of the others had stood up to speak with the pilot; Felix. They were trying to figure out a way to get onto the spacecraft without the need for anyone to actually go out into space. Moves like that were risky even at the best of times. He would be fine though, his cybernetics included an internal re-breather and a transparent, organic ooze-like substance that would cover his being to make him airtight. It wasn't the most comfortable of experiences but he'd be fine to float about in space for as long as he needed. Some of the others, however, didn't have this luxury. But nevertheless, he figured that one of them would eventually come up with a plan and all he'd need to do was sit back and relax. Something as trivial as boarding a ship wasn't a concern for him. Not considering his exemplary success during his time spent in the V.I.R.U.S. Squads. Upon looking around the ship, he finally laid his eyes on the one person he'd been avoiding contact with for the entire journey. An old partner, a female by the name of Marga. A fellow merc and one of the most renowned thieves this side of the galaxy. The first thing he noted were the handcuffs. Not the standard issue ones that were normally used by the Navy. She'd gotten herself into some trouble, which wasn't exactly a surprise. From the time he'd known her, trouble had been all she'd ever cavorted with. But he knew that wasn't true the moment he thought of it. His gaze followed the length of her arms before reaching her upper body, which remained scarcely adorned in the usual attire she wore. It was tighter than usual, more form-fitting. The shapes and curves of her slender figure could be made out more easily. He could feel his skin tingle ever so slightly as his temperature rose by a degree. Her lithe but powerful legs had commanded his attention now. He remembered their strength as well as the nigh-impossible angles in which they could stretch, a feat that had almost baffled him at first. Images began to show themselves within his mind. Memories of her, memories of them, together. He could still remember her warm breath against him, the soft touch of her nimble fingers and the brush of her hair as the two of them lay together, entwined and entangled. The pair of them writhing about in a strange dance of lust and emotion. He remembered how warm her skin was every time he placed his lips upon her. A wave of warmth flushed over him. But as quick as it came, the feeling was gone. 'Her skin...' His grasp on the handle of his blade tightened, whitening his knuckles. A darkened glare now plagued his face. He remembered how, for the briefest of moments, her skin had changed colour. To a light shade of blue, accompanied by strange patterns. At first, Mez thought he'd imagined it but as her screams of passion grew louder, her skin became more prominent. More Thuboisii. His train of thought was interrupted by a sudden spike of pain. The tip of his blade had begun piercing his palm. Crimson liquid oozed from the wound after he removed the weapon. But he knew by now that his enhanced cells would already be hard at work. A singular drop of blood hit the metallic grating beneath his feet but by the time he looked back up to inspect the injury, it had been healed. When he glanced back in Marga's direction, his anger had dissipated too. Now, he only looked at her with a smirk. Stowing away his combat knife, he leaned back into his seat. "Are they supposed to be some kind of a fashion statement?" He called out, directing his question towards his former partner.</s>	<\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name As Felix gently guided the shuttle as close as he could to the spinning, twirling hulk of the abandoned dreadnought he heard the search party beginning to move around in the compartment behind him. Finally they seemed to be getting their acts together and one of them was even stepping up to the airlock, their armour shifting and hardening around them as they prepared for a space walk. "It's your funeral, happy landings." Felix responded with a grin, reaching out to activate the control and triggering the system. It would take a minute to flush the air from the small chamber, but soon the outer door would be ready to open for his guest. "No can do." Felix replied with a smile, "This is a military vessel, not some pleasure cruiser, as you've no doubt gathered from our lack of hot tub and bar facilities. Only authorised personnel are permitted to pilot her. And I've never been to Syndarin, or your colonies, and the only Spades I work with are the little black ones that win me hands." With that Felix slapped his hand down on the console, cutting the 'com as he focused his attention on aligning the shuttle to the larger ship, getting them as close as he safely could to give the Gygan the best possible chance of success.</s>
<\|description\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name Party Roster Hundred Kira - @Tenish the Mighty - Docking Bay Control Room - Active Sevyn Spades - @TTwoThumbsUp - Docking Bay Control Room - Inactive Marga - @Bonjour xx - Docking Bay Control Room - Active Farvis Kren - @TheUnknowable - Docking Bay Access Corridor - Inactive Mez - @Kalas - Docking Bay Access Corridor - Inactive Simon Brewer - @DJAtomika - Docking Bay Control Room - Active James "JR" Rourke - @TheMadAsshatter - Retired Red hatched areas are currently exposed to space and inaccessible for characters not in full EVA gear. Character Sheet Race: Species or sub-species. No defined limits here so feel free to pick any species appearing in popular culture or just make up your own. If your race has any special inherent abilities please be sure to list them below. Appearance: A basic description of the character's overall appearance and common attire, or a photo reference if possible. Personality: Simple psychological profile for your character, giving details of their main motivations and outlook on life. Skills: An outline of the training and abilities of the character. These come in five levels of proficiency: Amateur, Proficient, Experienced, Skilled, Expert. I'd recommend limiting the character to a maximum of five skills with two class or profession skills, two general skills and one combat skill. For example a Mechanic might have Expert Engineering and Expert Mechanics as class skills, Skilled Driver and Experienced Salesman as general skills and Proficient Brawler as a combat skill. Non-standard Abilities: This section is for unique abilities for the character's species, as well as any personal abilities they may have. I'd recommend an absolute maximum of three of these, but would counsel for only one or two in most cases. Equipment: Here you should give details of the main pieces of equipment the character usually carries with them when going on a high-risk mission. I'd recommend taking one or two weapons, at least one piece of class or profession-specific equipment, a set of armour or protective clothing, some form of communications gear and any utility or survival gear you feel would be appropriate. Bio: A brief (two or three paragraph) history of the character detailing where they're from, their current life circumstances and their reason for being included on the mission. Quote: An example of something the character is likely to say, giving an insight into their personality and general life attitude.</s> <\|message\|>Mez "There's a lever inside the airlock, on the upper left side of the outer hatch. Yank it down and the umbilical will deploy. You can fine tune it using the monitor just below the lever and the controls beside it. Won't be needing a perfect lock, just one good enough to hold pressure until you get the party aboard." @SimplyJohn "Perfect." Mez replied. He moved to spring into action but the droids' change of movement caught his eye. "Looks like time's about to run out." He stated before moving back into rear bay. Quickly scouring the ship, his eyes fell on a equipment locker towards the end of the bay. He'd need a comm-link headset to be able to communicate with the Gygan outside. Mez crossed the bay in less that five strides and wrenched open the locker door. The following smirk on his face meant he'd found what he was looking for; a powerful shortwave comm-link headset. All he needed now was to cannibalize it for the transmitter and insert it into one of the many sub-ports of his Direct Neural Interface. He could use his body to amplify the transmission range and communicate with Hundred. Before he'd finished thinking of what he wanted to do, Mez was already walking towards the airlock, the transmitter was now sending out radio waves at 200% more power which allowed the waves to be able to cut through space. "Hundred, do you copy? Come in, Hundred. I am going to release the shuttle's umbilical early using the manual override. I need you to ensure a positive lock on with the Lone Star, nothing perfect but enough to pressurize the walkway. We have less than 5 minutes ETA on an asteroid shower which'll mean mission failure if we don't do this now." Mez punched the control panel of the airlock, pressurizing the small room. It took a few seconds but far longer than it needed. Once he was inside, he followed the Pilot's direction. True to his word, the lever was there. Mez pulled it which activated a series of loud clunks and a hissing sound. 'The umbilical must be moving.' He quickly turned his gaze to the monitor and keyed in a few simple commands via the control pad. Like everything else on board the shuttle, the computer systems proved rudimentary. So Mez only had to alter a few sub-routines in order to exact the optimum speed efficiency for the extending walkway.</s> <\|message\|>Hundred Kira Hundred's frown had never left. It certainly didn't change when the ships macrobot accompaniment swarmed out of the arresting airlock. With a thought she impelled the Dust further into the airlocks mechanisms. Ah. There was the problem. She should have checked first. Her comm crackled. She snarled at the pilots castigation. He was right to berate her. She had not performed as she had tacitly implied. Hundred took a moment in the flurry of activity around her person. She examined the Star bots' movement patterns. They may have been upkeep drones, trapped in a process loop, unable to perform their scheduled maintenance due to the faulty door mechanism. No, not faulty, sabotaged. The bots surrounded her, the emitters on their cutting lasers adjusting. Her frown deepened even further. Hostile then. She was more interested in the one maneuvering over to her micro-channel. They had the wherewithal to target her Dust. Curious. Her comm was filled with the beam of another of her mission mates. The Visipian. Hundred did not like the Visipians. The Consortium did not like them either, but she didn't see that as much of a point in their favor. They were dogmatic, fascistic, too much like the Consortium for comfort. But their methods were barbarous. Conquest. War. Wasteful. But most damning of all, they possessed technologies that Gyges had yet to replicate. Divine Energy. A superstitious designation. A weak grip upon the fire whose secrets they alone had discovered. But he had given her a gift. A goal. Redemption. Five minutes. "It will be done in one." Hundred raised her arms, fingers flickering tactile commands. Dust around her compacted and formed, layer upon layer of tightly packed Fullerenes wrapped around each other, growing, hardening, sharpening. From Dust to dagger, little black spikes of graphene, bristling around her in a satellite sphere. She looked around herself at the busy little bots. So large, so few, so primitive. Her hand waved dismissively. Her teeth bared. It was almost a smile. Punching into the closest hostile robots, the spikes split upon intentional faults, fragmenting into flechettes, shredding the interiors of the bots trying to unseat her footing. Striding forwards a second wave of spikes formed to deal with the rest of the offensive constructs. She flexed her right hand, just above her open palm another longer, leaner blade began to form the constructing edge of it's black blade radiating a sharp golden glow. She stepped over the half-melted lip of the plating she was standing on, moving back towards the airlock. Her other hand waved dismissively again, the second set of spikes shot forth to enforce her lethal contempt for the machines that had lost her face. It would be done in the next 47 seconds. She was keeping count.</s> <\|message\|>Sevyn Spades The moment the tiny little bots began firing their lasers, Sevyn fired into the swarm, jumping from target to target. She felt the shuttle beneath her inching every slowly forward as it clumsily tried to align itself with the open airlock. She considered the idea of throwing one of her EMP grenades into the two meter hole, a relatively easy target, but deemed it too risky once the shuttle started extending its umbilical tube. Once the tube started moving, Sevyn moved herself to its lip, still firing at the droids as the silent thump, thump, thump of her magnetic boots causing a dull reverb throughout the umbilical. Meanwhile Jemini tried to make herself useful by calculating the trajectory of the tube and sending the necessary minor adjustments needed to align it with the Lone Star to the shuttle pilot while she took shots at the stationary droids. She chirped and whirred angrily, even beeping once to express her extreme displeasure at having to work with the current shuttle pilot, though the droid couldn't place a value on either Sevyn's or the less-than-adequate shuttle pilot's maneuvering, seeing as how both were equally annoying. Sevyn was edging out on top though, considering she was standing at the lip of tube, ready to snap herself into the tube right before it would attach to the Lone Star instead of staying outside of taking care of all the bots all because of her stupid desire to be the first inside the derelict dreadnought. But then again, why else would she have teamed up with a bunch of ruffians if the rest couldn't handle themselves in a little scrap.</s> <\|message\|>James "JR" Rourke JR was no less anxious to get on the Star, but the rate at which people seemed to be stepping out was both impressive and astonishing. Aside from the Gygan, it didn't really make much sense for anyone to be going for the ship without having been docked, but at least it made for some entertainment. At least until it seemed as though things were... well, going. He definitely began to get an apprehensive feeling about boarding the ship, though it made him all the more anxious to get onboard and find out why. There was definitely something about that ship. He stood himself up at the mention of them docking with the dreadnought, knowing that it wouldn't take much longer now. He was more than ready to board, though he couldn't help but be distracted by two of his apparent crewmates' bickering. The two of them were either going at each others throats, or organizing their next romantic getaway, or both. It was definitely hard to tell, and he was sure plenty of sarcasm was flying through the shuttle. He couldn't help but chuckle at some of their remarks. The window through the airlock showed their point of entry, a few hundred meters away at this point. The movements of the shuttle were jarring at points, but JR bore through it. It definitely wouldn't be the first time. "Well then, who's ready to party?" he asked, eyes still fixed on the Lone Star's airlock.</s> <\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name "Watch out, we're incoming!" Felix screamed into the radio as the shuttle drew closer to the dreadnought, its thruster fire swelling across the ancient plating, burning away a few of the scurrying droids as they finished cutting into the hull plating. They seemed unconcerned with their dwindling numbers as both Sevyn and Hundred targeted their colleagues, instead setting into the damaged innards of the ship's docking mechanism with a single-minded devotion. The spinning hull fragment spun off into the cold darkness of space, drifting passed the shuttle's viewports with an almost serene grace. A groaning shriek of twisting metal echoed inside the shuttle's compartments as the umbilical made contact with the Lone Star's hull, scraping a couple of inches before the magnetic clamps managed to lock into place on the ancient plating. The placement wasn't ideal with the maintenance hatch a little off-centre, but it was a good solid lock which would be more than sufficient for the party to board. "You guys had better be going," Felix called through the 'com as his fingers danced a grim fandango across the thruster controls. "That asteroid belt's coming up fast."</s> <\|message\|>Simon Brewer "T minus one minute and closing!" That was the last thing that escaped Simon's mouth before several tons of space-grade steel plowed straight into the Star's hull. The screech was ear splitting, but after all was done, the umbilical was locked firmly in place by the magnetic clamps. Felix had done his job, now it was time for them to do theirs. Simon stood, unclipped a slightly bent piece of plas-steel from his chest plate and bolted it into place on the back of his neck guard. The folded piece of equipment powered up and unfolded with a rhythmic whirring and clicking, extending itself up over his head and around his ears, the helmet slowly forming itself in place. The last thing to form itself was the faceplate, which he left up while he excited the cockpit, not without giving Felix a pat on the shoulder. "Good job Felix, thank you. We'll take it from here, you busy yourself with getting out of the way of those rocks." Without waiting for anyone else he booked it from the cockpit, grabbing his rifle from the bench as he strode towards the shuttle's airlock. He pushed his way ("excuse me sorry") past the Visipian, Mez, and tapped the airlock control. He turned back to the remaining crew still within the ship, a grimace on his face. "Colleagues, we have to leave, now." He nodded his head and his faceplate slid down and snapped into place, the viewports of the stark white helmet lighting up in a crimson red cross. "Otherwise we all perish."</s>	<\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name The shuttle airlock quickly cycled open. With the sealed unbilical on the far side the system knew not to waste time decompressing the chamber and Simon found himself looking down the passage towards where Sevyn waited for him.</s>
<\|description\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name Party Roster Hundred Kira - @Tenish the Mighty - Docking Bay Control Room - Active Sevyn Spades - @TTwoThumbsUp - Docking Bay Control Room - Inactive Marga - @Bonjour xx - Docking Bay Control Room - Active Farvis Kren - @TheUnknowable - Docking Bay Access Corridor - Inactive Mez - @Kalas - Docking Bay Access Corridor - Inactive Simon Brewer - @DJAtomika - Docking Bay Control Room - Active James "JR" Rourke - @TheMadAsshatter - Retired Red hatched areas are currently exposed to space and inaccessible for characters not in full EVA gear. Character Sheet Race: Species or sub-species. No defined limits here so feel free to pick any species appearing in popular culture or just make up your own. If your race has any special inherent abilities please be sure to list them below. Appearance: A basic description of the character's overall appearance and common attire, or a photo reference if possible. Personality: Simple psychological profile for your character, giving details of their main motivations and outlook on life. Skills: An outline of the training and abilities of the character. These come in five levels of proficiency: Amateur, Proficient, Experienced, Skilled, Expert. I'd recommend limiting the character to a maximum of five skills with two class or profession skills, two general skills and one combat skill. For example a Mechanic might have Expert Engineering and Expert Mechanics as class skills, Skilled Driver and Experienced Salesman as general skills and Proficient Brawler as a combat skill. Non-standard Abilities: This section is for unique abilities for the character's species, as well as any personal abilities they may have. I'd recommend an absolute maximum of three of these, but would counsel for only one or two in most cases. Equipment: Here you should give details of the main pieces of equipment the character usually carries with them when going on a high-risk mission. I'd recommend taking one or two weapons, at least one piece of class or profession-specific equipment, a set of armour or protective clothing, some form of communications gear and any utility or survival gear you feel would be appropriate. Bio: A brief (two or three paragraph) history of the character detailing where they're from, their current life circumstances and their reason for being included on the mission. Quote: An example of something the character is likely to say, giving an insight into their personality and general life attitude.</s> <\|message\|>Farvis Kren Farvis search the shuttle for anything useful he could take but came up empty. The emergency supply kit contained a bottle of brandy and some protein bars, but there was no sign of the first aid kit or the emergency laser pistol that was supposed to be there. It was possible they stripped all of the emergency weaponry from the shuttle before the mission to keep it from the dangerous criminals they were loading on board, but he doubted they were that competent. It was much more likely that some idiot was using the shuttle to hook up with female officers and was too busy in his pursuits to think about restocking anything but the food and alcohol. He stood up as he felt the umbilical connect and waited to leave, preferring to keep the angry cyborg in front of him he he wouldn't literally stab him in the back. He saw Marga eying the cockpit and knew what must be going through her head. He knew because the same thought had already went through his head dispute his inept piloting skills and been discarded. "There are much better prizes than a military shuttle." he whispered beside her ear. "You just need to wait a few hours." Hopefully she wouldn't take the shuttle. That would mean losing a very valuable ally in the operation he had planned.</s> <\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name As he sat counting the seconds, his eyes fixed firmly on the long-range scanners as the asteroid field loomed ever closer Felix spotted the emergency alarm fire up. Immediately his finger was on the intercom and he began screaming down the line, "Whoever's messing with my gear, get your hands off! Any supplies you're authorised to use can be found in the storage compartment beside the airlock, everything else has been earmarked for a highly confidential, need-to-know only mission we have lined up after I've dropped you bozos off." With that the pilot sat back in his seat, fretting whether the antique bottle of brandy he'd managed to procure for his 'confidential mission' with Ensign Ballard would still be there after the party left. And that her husband, his CO, wouldn't find out about the need-to-know docking maneuvers he had planned for her.</s> <\|message\|>Mez "I wear this armour not for show, Mez. Remove the medical officer and no one will be getting off her alive. Not even Hundred." @DJAtomika Mez was impressed by his counter threat. Though it wasn't directed entirely at him, he could understand the underlying meaning to it, even if there wasn't one. "I wouldn't let Hundred hear you saying that. I have a feeling she'd beg to differ. As much fun as this is, though, we really should get going. 'Cause, y'know, there's the small matter of the incoming asteroid belt and our impending doom to worry about if you don't move your ass instead of blocking the doorway." "Boys, boys, please. Let me get out a ruler and you two can settle this." @Bonjour xx He hadn't felt Marga walk up behind him. He wasn't startled but more concerned that she could still do that to him. He rolled his eyes at her comment. "Well you won't be needing a ruler for mine, I'm sure you remember well enough. Give it an hour, though, and I doubt you'll need a ruler for his either, seeing as that's what you do best, am I right?" It was a cutting reply, probably unwarranted, but Mez had had enough of her games already. If she was going to act like a whore just to spite him, he was going to treat her like one. With that, Mez decided to step past the Human Medic and into the umbilical, making sure not to touch the suited man. Sure, Mez was an asshole, but he sure as hell wasn't a hypocrite. He saw that Sevyn was waiting at the other end, seemingly puzzled with the access hatch that would lead them into the Lone Star. There wasn't any time to waste, they needed to get on that ship now or all of them would perish. Striding confidently toward the other end, Mez reached for his pistols, the ones given to him by Rasgrid. He held them out in front of him and aimed for the joints of the hatch, then he opened fire. The barrage of plasma fire slammed into the metal hull of the Lone Star, at first it only seemed to harmlessly splash against it. But before long it became apparent that the rounds were melting away at the joints as there were now glowing holes left where the joints used to be. He changed his target towards the handle, a red lever that would undoubtedly operate a large metallic latch behind it. That too would succumb to the intense heat of his plasma-fire. A larger hole was left in the wake of his rounds and molten, metallic slag was now running down the side of the dreadnought. He'd made sure not to hit Sevyn at all but it would have been impossible for her not the feel the heat of his passing bullets. By the time he'd finished firing, Mez had reached the end of the walkway, passing the Syndarin in the mean time. He stowed his right pistol, Osebon, at his side before grabbing the recently damaged hatch and ripping it from the rest of the ship, allowing it to clang loudly to the floor. He half-turned back towards the Syndarin and held up his remaining pistol, Ahael, before saying, "Super-heated Divine Energy, always does the trick." Mez then began climbing his way into the access hatch, making sure to scour the area ahead with his weapon. If those droids decided to make a return, Mez would turn them all to small piles of molten scrap.</s> <\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name The sudden shift in air pressure sent a wave of fetid, stale gas down the companionway as Mez yanked the airlock door open, and a heavy thunking sound could be heard from the inner hatch as some ancient mechanical safety feature quickly sealed the rest of the ship off from the breach, preventing any more air from escaping.</s> <\|message\|>Simon Brewer "Well I guess we're in. Quickly now, the asteroid field is coming." Simon nodded in appreciation as Mez swiftly handled the issue of the door not opening. Superheated plasma definitely ate through metal, no matter how reinforced it was. He simply followed the Visipian in, his visor light shining a bright red cross on the floor and walls wherever he looked. It wasn't particularly bright; without power, probably not even emergency power judging from how long it'd been gone, the Lone Star's interior was completely pitch black, save for the light streaming in through the open airlock and whatever glowy pieces of equipment the team had. It was quiet, too quiet, but here he was: a galaxy first, the first team to ever set foot on the Lone Star ever since it disappeared a decade ago. If they weren't on such a clandestine mission, he was sure that the whole thing would've been covered by news casters all over the sector, if not the whole system. This was the sort of thing that corporations won and lost money over, that built fortunes or lost them…or something absurdly profound like that. All Simon had in mind was his mission. Simon extended an arm and opened his hand, exposing the scanners built into the palm and fingers of his armour. Time to get a scope on what they were going to be dealing with. "System, full environment scan. Optics, visual scan, identify key facilities." With a soft bleep his armour got to working out their surroundings. A faint blue beam shot forth from his palm as he swept his hand slowly back and forth around the whole docking bay area, trying to take in as much information as he could, while his optics scanned and updated his heads-up display with key details; doors leading to unknown areas, potential hazards, along with any outstanding features within the bay that might've been of interest. The micro fans on his chest plate whirred softly away as they took in sample particulates from the air for sampling, while he panned his vision slowly across the entire bay, his optics scanning each nook and cranny, highlighting whatever was of interest in a pale blue outline, with details on what they were or where they led, if what was highlighted was a door. The full analysis took only a few seconds, and soon he had his samples taken and visual references gathered. Soon his armour would finish the physical analysis and it would give him the most important data he needed: could they breathe in here?</s> <\|message\|>Sevyn Spades It was a conundrum. How to open a door without the door handle. Or in this case an impossibly heavy and impossibly thick airlock that happened to have its wheel knocked off, either by the robots or hurtling debris. Sevyn could plug Jemini into the wheel socket and use the bot at a wheel, but when brought up to the drone the Syndarin was answered by a rapid succession of high pitched beeps and whirrs, followed by attempted mutilation by blowtorch. That meant that the plan was a go. Before Sevyn even had the chance to reach over for the drone however, a barrage of plasma fire splashed against the door, melting away the joints of the airlock. Which meant someone has shot at the Lone Star The Syndarin could only stare in horror, locking her magnetic boots reflexively against the sudden decompression. Luckily, that didn't happen, but the fetid stench coming from inside seemed to more than make up for it. Curious, as that meant there was a working atmosphere inside the ship, which meant that some power had to be operational which shouldn't have surprised Sevyn, really. Many ships were more than capable of running ten or more years without having to dock at any spaceport, provided they passed by the occasional gas giant every so often. Sure, minor systems would have broken down, but the ship itself would still have kept chugging. But still, someone shot the Lone Star. That also meant that whatever scanners the United Alliance Navy had used to scan the ship had either been tampered, damaged, or jammed somehow. Sevyn gave them all an almost equal split chance of probability, with extra points going toward jammed. It was the Vespian. But that was a discussion for another time because if the ship had power, that meant main protocols and subroutines were running, which meant an automatic bulkhead lockdown of their immediate surrounding section. While they certainly could blow through each and every one of them, the bulkheads would keep on shutting down and their progressed would be slowed immeasurably. Not to mention he shot at the Lone Star. Sevyn made her frustration known by ignoring everything the smug Vespian said to her, putting a hand to his helmet providing a direct communications channel and screamed, "WHAT. HAVE. YOU. DONE." The Syndarin stormed off angrily and hurriedly, pushing past the medic man and with the help of Jemini, began working on unlocking the inner door before the umbilical detached and the laws of pressure would forcibly remove everyone far, far away from the Lone Star and presumably into the then-onrushing asteroids. All without blowing the inner airlock to absolute shit, of course.</s>	<\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name "System, full environment scan. Optics, visual scan, identify key facilities." The initial scan results were, without a doubt, less than ideal. The plating around the airlock chamber was heavy enough to block a wider ranged scan but inside the compartment there was a distinct lack of anything. Apart from a few slight biological traces, which were quickly dying off due to the exposure to vacuum, the room seemed as though it had been thoroughly cleared out well before the party had arrived. Most likely by the Lone Star's original crew. As the beam played over the walls it quickly noted over a dozen storage lockers lining each of the airlock's walls. All apart from one hung open, their contents missing, presumably also removed purposefully many years before. The remaining locker seemed to have been sealed, the edges of its frame melted and blistered. The only other entrance from the chamber was another airlock hatch set into the opposite wall from the external one through which the party were now beginning to board. The scan showed the door had been mechanically locked down, heavy bars within the walls clamping it closed to prevent any loss of atmosphere due to the detected hull breach. With a beep the scanner lit up a panel beside the hatch which seemed to be some sort of manual override, but overriding what the scanner couldn't tell. --- With the shuttle now secured to the larger vessel Felix's job had become a whole lot easier, but with the short-range scanner now pinging with an alarming regularity as new asteroid fragments were showing up in close proximity he didn't have time to relax. Thumbing open the external commlink he raised as many of his passengers as he could, "Hate to break this to you guys but if you don't get a move on I'm gonna have to blow this popsicle stand with or without you." Almost as if on cue a small pebble tapped against the viewport in front of the pilot, leaving a small but very definite scratch in his otherwise unspoilt panorama. "And I mean like right now!"</s>
<\|description\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name Party Roster Hundred Kira - @Tenish the Mighty - Docking Bay Control Room - Active Sevyn Spades - @TTwoThumbsUp - Docking Bay Control Room - Inactive Marga - @Bonjour xx - Docking Bay Control Room - Active Farvis Kren - @TheUnknowable - Docking Bay Access Corridor - Inactive Mez - @Kalas - Docking Bay Access Corridor - Inactive Simon Brewer - @DJAtomika - Docking Bay Control Room - Active James "JR" Rourke - @TheMadAsshatter - Retired Red hatched areas are currently exposed to space and inaccessible for characters not in full EVA gear. Character Sheet Race: Species or sub-species. No defined limits here so feel free to pick any species appearing in popular culture or just make up your own. If your race has any special inherent abilities please be sure to list them below. Appearance: A basic description of the character's overall appearance and common attire, or a photo reference if possible. Personality: Simple psychological profile for your character, giving details of their main motivations and outlook on life. Skills: An outline of the training and abilities of the character. These come in five levels of proficiency: Amateur, Proficient, Experienced, Skilled, Expert. I'd recommend limiting the character to a maximum of five skills with two class or profession skills, two general skills and one combat skill. For example a Mechanic might have Expert Engineering and Expert Mechanics as class skills, Skilled Driver and Experienced Salesman as general skills and Proficient Brawler as a combat skill. Non-standard Abilities: This section is for unique abilities for the character's species, as well as any personal abilities they may have. I'd recommend an absolute maximum of three of these, but would counsel for only one or two in most cases. Equipment: Here you should give details of the main pieces of equipment the character usually carries with them when going on a high-risk mission. I'd recommend taking one or two weapons, at least one piece of class or profession-specific equipment, a set of armour or protective clothing, some form of communications gear and any utility or survival gear you feel would be appropriate. Bio: A brief (two or three paragraph) history of the character detailing where they're from, their current life circumstances and their reason for being included on the mission. Quote: An example of something the character is likely to say, giving an insight into their personality and general life attitude.</s> <\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name "Don't worry, I'm already playing the Countdown theme over here. Can't just dump the boarding party and run without at least giving them a chance to get the job done, otherwise I'll be toasted by the Admiralty rather than some useless chunk of rock." Felix replied back testily, his hands hovering over the control panel ready to break free the instant he got the all clear, or when the clock ran out. The light pattering sound on the shuttle's hull almost reminded him of the rainstorm back at home, except those storms couldn't suddenly change into a maelstrom of deadly metal fragments at a moment's notice. He should've been gone well before the storm reached them, and unless he broke away soon he'd never make it clear in time.</s> <\|message\|>"Call me Marga" is how she's most likely to answer the question "what's your name?" Whether that's her real name or not remains unanswered. "Well you won't be needing a ruler for mine, I'm sure you remember well enough. Give it an hour, though, and I doubt you'll need a ruler for his either, seeing as that's what you do best, am I right?" @Kalas Marga's face froze for a second, before her left eye gave an involuntary twitched and her expression morphed from one of smugness into one of sheer vexation. For a split second she was tempted to retort back the she'd need the magnifying spectrum on her googles, but the childish response died in her throat before it even had a half decent chance of being voiced. The biting comment didn't perturb her as much as the fact that Mez could still call her out on her shit when she was being full of herself; that he could still tell when her behaviour was an act she put on. Besides her former paramour, there were only two other beings which had ever been able to tell when Marga was being fake, when her actions and words were part of a performance meant to conceal something. Those two individuals were her brother and her mother. With the exception of Mez for one short stage in her life, Marga had never been closer to another person than she was to her brother. Her mother however was another matter. While her brother knew how to read her demeanour from years of practice from raising her from childhood and then working alongside her when she became an adult, Marga's estranged mother instinctively knew when her daughter's conduct was a sham, a pre tense that was filled with posturing. But they shared the same blood as her, something therefore bound them together, connected them. How Mez could tell performance from actuality was still unknown to her. Even back when he was no more to her than a possible fling, someone to waste a few hours with between the sheets, to escape from reality for a short while before she had to head back to the Armada and deal with a bunch of arseholes who gave her the absolute minimum respect they could get away with without receiving any punishment, Mez had been able to call her out on her shit. When she'd entered that bar all that time ago and clocked Mez standing near the bar nursing a drink, she had sauntered over to the handsome stranger, full of cockiness and confidence, her seductrice mask had just automatically fallen into place. Seduction was a game and Marga always won. Seduction was about manipulation and control. Seduction was power. And then that bastard had seen right through her facade and knocked her whole world off its axis. Suddenly it was a situation that Marga couldn't control, where there were unknowns that she couldn't anticipate. Suddenly she was unsure of herself. The feeling had blind-sided her then, and it had the exact same effect on her now. Uncertainty got you killed. Uncertainty made you vulnerable. Uncertainty led to failure. It was an emotion Marga couldn't afford. She had fought tooth and nail for her position in the Armada and she knew that all it would take was one slight crack in her metaphorical armour and it would all be wrenched from her grasp. She worked with thugs, ruffians and murderers. If she gave in to them even a single inch, they would see her as a weak link. Weak links were disposed of - or worse. Yes, Marga knew there were worse things that could happen to her than death or mutiny at the hands of the outfit of pirates. And hence the need for her mask and if she had to be perceived as a bitch to maintain it, so be it. Until she had met Mez, Marga had been positive that her mask was flawless. With the exception of family, no one had ever seen through it before. It had taken her several weeks to realise that instead of annoyance at having been found out, what she actually felt was pleased. The ramifications of that self-discovery was what had eventually sent her right back to Mez. Standing just inside of the Navy shuttle, Marga ground her thoughts to a halt. Her mind had a strong tendency to wonder, her emotions getting the better of her. But now wasn't the time to reminisce on such things. Marga had a decision to make. With the astroid field closing in on them within the next thirty seconds, the thief knew she didn't have the necessary piloting skills to make a successful getaway without being torn to shreds. As Marga eyed the umbilical tunnel, her attention was caught by the only unopened locker on the other side of the Lone Star's docking entrance. Locked. Marga liked things that were locked. It meant someone had taken the time to place something they valued into the locker, box, vault, etc to keep it safe. People regarded items differently - as they said, one man's rubbish is another man's gold. Marga felt a familiar tingle starting at the tips of her long, slender fingers. The more she pondered the mystery that was the Lone Star, she further up her hands and arms the sensation traveled. Locked. In its essence, the dreadnought was one massive locked box… And Marga had never been able to resist peeking inside a locked box. So, despite her reservations, the thief turned back to where she had spied a set of naval issue environmental suits, quickly slid into it, placed the helmet over her head, grabbed a pair of small laser-beam guns, then turned and put one foot in front of the other and walked down the connecting tunnel and stepped into the Lone Star.</s> <\|message\|>Farvis Kren Farvis opened the storage locker and grabbed a shotgun and several extra rounds, then put on a space suit and comm system from the same locker. The medical suit he was wearing could withstand the pressure change and had its own air processing system, but it lacked the ability to heat itself, making it of limited use as a space suit. He activated the force field helmet on his medical suit for extra protection and made his way across the umbilical. He was contemplating how to get the inner hatch open when someone decided to just melt the hinges with a plasma weapon. "Are you just going to keep melting through every locked door?" he asked. "We need to equalize pressure in here. Not all of us can survive indefinitely in the vacuum of space, you know. Everyone needs to get inside so that we can reseal the door behind us, probably by welding in in place with more plasma fire." He entered the room they had just blown there way into, pushing his way past the others if he had to, and went over to the only locker that hadn't been ransacked yet, probably because of the damage to it. To get it open, though, he was going to have to damage it even more. Hopefully it was built like most lockers, and only made of thin metal, otherwise this would hurt. He increased his adrenaline level to Alpha-state levels and punched the center of the locker door. Hopefully the door would bend enough to break whatever minor welding the heat damage had caused and break the locker open.</s> <\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name As soon as Farvis's hand slammed through the thin metal door of the locker he felt sharp claws grabbing at his wrist, cutting easily through his space suit but catching on his sterile suit beneath. Luckily the added protection from the outer armour was enough to prevent any worse damage, but he could still feel the sharp tine sawing its way through the nano-tube reinforced material far more quickly than a conventional blade should be able to.</s> <\|message\|>Sevyn Spades Jemini had the good sense to stay quiet as the Syndarin mentally screamed in her head as she worked desperately to open the door. Her emotions were playing too much with the adrenaline she depended on to stay calm and cool in high tense situations such as this, though usually she had a team behind her back that she could trust and she often had the blessing of being blissfully unaware of the true precariousness of her situations. Unfortunately the misfits Sevyn had found herself with had no respect or no knowledge of how ships were constructed (at least the mercenaries asked her first if it was safe to blow something up), were too focused on baiting and antagonizing each other rather than focusing on the mission (at least the mercenaries she was with waited until after the job was done), psychopathic killers (at least the mercen... well okay her people were essentially a race of repressed psychopaths so she didn't really have anything to counter for this one), or some ungodly combination of all three. She also added "sticking hands into places they shouldn't be" to the list, judging from the sounds behind her, though she admitted that she fell amazingly well into that category. The pilot announcing that he had to leave soon and fast did nothing to help Sevyn's nerves, pounding at the impossible door once in frustration. The nearby console beeped on almost immediately after. Sevyn briefly entertained the possibly of her being capable of great and powerful technomagic before jumping onto the console and began working furiously to activate the manual override. Unfortunately the flashy user-friendly interface shut down the moment the Syndarin touched the screen which made her think of what terrible gifts she was now in control of before the screen rebooted back on, only to now show the base code. The language the code was written in had been cutting edge when the Lone Star was first built, written specifically for it if Sevyn remembered correctly, and it was so impossibly difficult to work with that it was never released to the general public. In fact it still wasn't, and is only used in the most top of the line military software. Of course that didn't stop Sevyn from getting her grubby little hands on it and while programming certainly wasn't her best skill, she sure as hell didn't want to be blown out of the airlock. Although, perhaps it didn't bode well when Sevyn realized she still had trouble working with the code and she didn't exactly know what she was manually overriding.</s>	<\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name A grinding howl echoed through the shuttle and the status board lit up with warnings as Felix swore loudly into his mike. "Oh shit! Whatever you guys are doing you'd better hurry up. One of the big rocks just grazed my starboard engine pod and almost killed us all!"</s>
<\|description\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name Party Roster Hundred Kira - @Tenish the Mighty - Docking Bay Control Room - Active Sevyn Spades - @TTwoThumbsUp - Docking Bay Control Room - Inactive Marga - @Bonjour xx - Docking Bay Control Room - Active Farvis Kren - @TheUnknowable - Docking Bay Access Corridor - Inactive Mez - @Kalas - Docking Bay Access Corridor - Inactive Simon Brewer - @DJAtomika - Docking Bay Control Room - Active James "JR" Rourke - @TheMadAsshatter - Retired Red hatched areas are currently exposed to space and inaccessible for characters not in full EVA gear. Character Sheet Race: Species or sub-species. No defined limits here so feel free to pick any species appearing in popular culture or just make up your own. If your race has any special inherent abilities please be sure to list them below. Appearance: A basic description of the character's overall appearance and common attire, or a photo reference if possible. Personality: Simple psychological profile for your character, giving details of their main motivations and outlook on life. Skills: An outline of the training and abilities of the character. These come in five levels of proficiency: Amateur, Proficient, Experienced, Skilled, Expert. I'd recommend limiting the character to a maximum of five skills with two class or profession skills, two general skills and one combat skill. For example a Mechanic might have Expert Engineering and Expert Mechanics as class skills, Skilled Driver and Experienced Salesman as general skills and Proficient Brawler as a combat skill. Non-standard Abilities: This section is for unique abilities for the character's species, as well as any personal abilities they may have. I'd recommend an absolute maximum of three of these, but would counsel for only one or two in most cases. Equipment: Here you should give details of the main pieces of equipment the character usually carries with them when going on a high-risk mission. I'd recommend taking one or two weapons, at least one piece of class or profession-specific equipment, a set of armour or protective clothing, some form of communications gear and any utility or survival gear you feel would be appropriate. Bio: A brief (two or three paragraph) history of the character detailing where they're from, their current life circumstances and their reason for being included on the mission. Quote: An example of something the character is likely to say, giving an insight into their personality and general life attitude.</s> <\|message\|>Farvis Kren Farvis opened the storage locker and grabbed a shotgun and several extra rounds, then put on a space suit and comm system from the same locker. The medical suit he was wearing could withstand the pressure change and had its own air processing system, but it lacked the ability to heat itself, making it of limited use as a space suit. He activated the force field helmet on his medical suit for extra protection and made his way across the umbilical. He was contemplating how to get the inner hatch open when someone decided to just melt the hinges with a plasma weapon. "Are you just going to keep melting through every locked door?" he asked. "We need to equalize pressure in here. Not all of us can survive indefinitely in the vacuum of space, you know. Everyone needs to get inside so that we can reseal the door behind us, probably by welding in in place with more plasma fire." He entered the room they had just blown there way into, pushing his way past the others if he had to, and went over to the only locker that hadn't been ransacked yet, probably because of the damage to it. To get it open, though, he was going to have to damage it even more. Hopefully it was built like most lockers, and only made of thin metal, otherwise this would hurt. He increased his adrenaline level to Alpha-state levels and punched the center of the locker door. Hopefully the door would bend enough to break whatever minor welding the heat damage had caused and break the locker open.</s> <\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name As soon as Farvis's hand slammed through the thin metal door of the locker he felt sharp claws grabbing at his wrist, cutting easily through his space suit but catching on his sterile suit beneath. Luckily the added protection from the outer armour was enough to prevent any worse damage, but he could still feel the sharp tine sawing its way through the nano-tube reinforced material far more quickly than a conventional blade should be able to.</s> <\|message\|>Sevyn Spades Jemini had the good sense to stay quiet as the Syndarin mentally screamed in her head as she worked desperately to open the door. Her emotions were playing too much with the adrenaline she depended on to stay calm and cool in high tense situations such as this, though usually she had a team behind her back that she could trust and she often had the blessing of being blissfully unaware of the true precariousness of her situations. Unfortunately the misfits Sevyn had found herself with had no respect or no knowledge of how ships were constructed (at least the mercenaries asked her first if it was safe to blow something up), were too focused on baiting and antagonizing each other rather than focusing on the mission (at least the mercenaries she was with waited until after the job was done), psychopathic killers (at least the mercen... well okay her people were essentially a race of repressed psychopaths so she didn't really have anything to counter for this one), or some ungodly combination of all three. She also added "sticking hands into places they shouldn't be" to the list, judging from the sounds behind her, though she admitted that she fell amazingly well into that category. The pilot announcing that he had to leave soon and fast did nothing to help Sevyn's nerves, pounding at the impossible door once in frustration. The nearby console beeped on almost immediately after. Sevyn briefly entertained the possibly of her being capable of great and powerful technomagic before jumping onto the console and began working furiously to activate the manual override. Unfortunately the flashy user-friendly interface shut down the moment the Syndarin touched the screen which made her think of what terrible gifts she was now in control of before the screen rebooted back on, only to now show the base code. The language the code was written in had been cutting edge when the Lone Star was first built, written specifically for it if Sevyn remembered correctly, and it was so impossibly difficult to work with that it was never released to the general public. In fact it still wasn't, and is only used in the most top of the line military software. Of course that didn't stop Sevyn from getting her grubby little hands on it and while programming certainly wasn't her best skill, she sure as hell didn't want to be blown out of the airlock. Although, perhaps it didn't bode well when Sevyn realized she still had trouble working with the code and she didn't exactly know what she was manually overriding.</s> <\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name A grinding howl echoed through the shuttle and the status board lit up with warnings as Felix swore loudly into his mike. "Oh shit! Whatever you guys are doing you'd better hurry up. One of the big rocks just grazed my starboard engine pod and almost killed us all!"</s> <\|message\|>"Call me Marga" is how she's most likely to answer the question "what's your name?" Whether that's her real name or not remains unanswered. Marga walked passed Farvis as he approached the locker that looked welded shut. As curious as she was to its contents, she figured she'd let Farvis take the risk of opening it. Then if she liked what was inside, she'd just take it - well, eventually anyway. The special environmental suit she had taken from the shuttle felt strange on her person. Unused to wearing such things as they tended to slow one down and limit one's abilities, Marga hoped there would be enough power left in the ship to enable them to activate the basic life support functions. She did note however, that the grip the suit allowed her to maintain on the floor was a point in its favour. The thief was quietly adjusting her small taser gun onto the outside of her suit and pondering how they were going to get the Gygan inside the Lone Star with them when she spotted the Syndarian who had introduced herself as Seyvn Spades standing in front of a console clearly meant for opening the next door. Having preformed a bit of work in that neck of the woods before, Marga had heard of Sevyn's impressive reputation as a pilot and made a mental note to ask for some pointers from her once this was all over. For now though, Marga knew there were more pressing matters to attend to - like the fact that they were all about to become space mush in under thirty seconds if they didn't open the aforementioned door. "Not to brag, but codes, algorithms and cracking them are sort of my thing, love," Marga said, coming to stand next to the Syndarian. "Right, let's see what we're dealing with."</s> <\|message\|>Farvis Kren Farvis felt something cut through the wrist of his space suit at rub against the wrist of his medical suit. In the slowed down time of Alpha state he was able to pull his hand out before it could do anything more. He then drew his shotgun and fired three times into the hole, the motion of the shotgun taking him several seconds to pump the next shell into the firing chamber as he perceived it. After he fired it he pulled himself out of the Alpha state so that he wouldn't wear himself out any more, abut kept the gun trained on the hole. "Something's in there." he said, "It felt like some creature tried to cut my hand off."</s> <\|message\|>Simon Brewer Simon merely watched as his teammates bumbled around like plebs. At least Mez and Hundred has some sense of what was going on and they were efficient. Everyone else though? He didn't even know why they needed this many people for one lousy retrieval mission. A pilot, sure, but two pilots? And two doctors too? Two combat types as well, that was to be expected, which left the only odd one out being the prissy bitch that was Marga. Hmm. The prospect of sharing the mission with someone like her irked him, but then again he had had to work with prissy bitch interns before on Mars. That backwater colony had the notorious rep for being the one place that nearly every off-world med school sent bad interns. He'd get used to it. For now, he simply focused on the tasks at hand. With the initial analysis of the inner airlock holding room done, and everything safe except for the rapid lack of air and heat, he was done with his safety checks. But when he approached the lockers he saw Farvis punch the only closed one through the door, then withdraw his hand just as abruptly. His optics noted the claw marks that had eaten through the outer suit and almost through the inner, and he gently pushed Farvis aside after he'd sufficiently vented his shotgun-based anger into the locker. "Stand aside, let me scan this. Optics, scan and x-ray." He slowly panned his vision from the top to the bottom of the locker, unsure of what he'd find past the three gaping holes in the locker door.</s>	<\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name "Stand aside, let me scan this. Optics, scan and x-ray." As the beam shone through the holes in the locker door the heads-up display began to flicker between two very different readings. One moment it reported a lifeform, the next a piece of equipment. Finally the computer intelligence admitted that it didn't know what to make of what it was seeing and flashed up a message reading '[[INCONCLUSIVE]]', followed by a long list of all the data points it had been able to gather. Luckily for Simon he wouldn't have to wait too long for more information to work with as a set of glistening, metallic blades reached out from inside the largest hole and began to claw at the edges, slowly widening the breach as thick purple ichor seeped from inside. --- Grabbing his helmet and quickly locking it into place JR quickly made his way over to the airlock, slamming his hand on the door control to cycle the outer door open. He glanced over at the weapon's rack but all he could see were some older pattern shotguns and pistols, no grenades or other gear which could help bolster his own gear, so without wasting another second he boosted down the umbilical, letting the low gravity float him towards the Lone Star's airlock chamber. Halfway along the passage he saw something shoot passed his faceplate and as he drifted along he looked back to see a pair of holes, one each side of the umbilical. "Umm, guys, I think we have a problem." He called out through his headset, hoping the others were on the same frequency. A moment later he stepped through the melted doorframe and saw the claws ripping their way out of the locker. "Ohh, nevermind. Looks like you have your hands full." He said calmly as he reached for his submachine gun and pistol. Swinging them both up he opened fire on whatever it was, only to be thrown back against the far bulkhead as sprays of plasma impacted around the locker, hitting everything but the holes he'd been aiming at. For a moment he lay stunned, his head ringing from where he'd hit it against the inside of his helmet, but as he recovered he quickly slammed his hand down on his belt control, activating the suit's grav boots. "Okay, let's try that again." He said, taking aim with his guns once more, only this time he balsted at the door panel, shattering the controls in a burst of sparks. With a silent hiss of escaping gas the door seal snapped off and the hatch swung open, a cloud of noxious air accompanying it into the airlock chamber, only to be sucked out towards the breach in the umbilical. "Quick, all of you clear the bay. I got this." JT called out, pulling a det-pack from his belt and thumbing the activator.</s>
<\|description\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name Party Roster Hundred Kira - @Tenish the Mighty - Docking Bay Control Room - Active Sevyn Spades - @TTwoThumbsUp - Docking Bay Control Room - Inactive Marga - @Bonjour xx - Docking Bay Control Room - Active Farvis Kren - @TheUnknowable - Docking Bay Access Corridor - Inactive Mez - @Kalas - Docking Bay Access Corridor - Inactive Simon Brewer - @DJAtomika - Docking Bay Control Room - Active James "JR" Rourke - @TheMadAsshatter - Retired Red hatched areas are currently exposed to space and inaccessible for characters not in full EVA gear. Character Sheet Race: Species or sub-species. No defined limits here so feel free to pick any species appearing in popular culture or just make up your own. If your race has any special inherent abilities please be sure to list them below. Appearance: A basic description of the character's overall appearance and common attire, or a photo reference if possible. Personality: Simple psychological profile for your character, giving details of their main motivations and outlook on life. Skills: An outline of the training and abilities of the character. These come in five levels of proficiency: Amateur, Proficient, Experienced, Skilled, Expert. I'd recommend limiting the character to a maximum of five skills with two class or profession skills, two general skills and one combat skill. For example a Mechanic might have Expert Engineering and Expert Mechanics as class skills, Skilled Driver and Experienced Salesman as general skills and Proficient Brawler as a combat skill. Non-standard Abilities: This section is for unique abilities for the character's species, as well as any personal abilities they may have. I'd recommend an absolute maximum of three of these, but would counsel for only one or two in most cases. Equipment: Here you should give details of the main pieces of equipment the character usually carries with them when going on a high-risk mission. I'd recommend taking one or two weapons, at least one piece of class or profession-specific equipment, a set of armour or protective clothing, some form of communications gear and any utility or survival gear you feel would be appropriate. Bio: A brief (two or three paragraph) history of the character detailing where they're from, their current life circumstances and their reason for being included on the mission. Quote: An example of something the character is likely to say, giving an insight into their personality and general life attitude.</s> <\|message\|>Mez When he had told them to get inside, Mez hadn't expected Hundred to come hurtling straight at him. The impact of their collision sent him cascading across the corridor and smashing into the wall. An audible clang of metal rang out, echoing in both directions. That was sure to wake something up. As he regained his composure and returned to his feet, he let out a feral growl of displeasure. The metal flooring beneath where he had fallen remained scraped and dented but Mez was fine in comparison. He was just brushing himself off when he turned a focused stare toward the Gygan, sizing her up. Despite the recent calamity, he didn't feel any ill will towards her simply annoyance. Though the look he received in return was just as predatory. Of the six of them on board the forgotten space hulk, he deemed her the most dangerous besides him. However, she also seemed the least likely to lash out in an angry manner. He supposed that's what made her one to watch. If she was going to do anything, it would most certainly be a well-calculated, premeditated attack. And if the pair of them came to blows, he wasn't entirely sure how he'd call the fight. Whilst he was extremely familiar and confident in his own strengths and abilities, the Gygan on the other hand remained somewhat of a mystery to him. Sure, she had displayed sufficient usage of her micro/nano-scale machinery she liked to call The Dust, but her actual fighting prowess had yet to be fully displayed. The droids from earlier were hardly a fight. He mentally noted her down as a level 3. As he did so, three miniature stars appeared above her head. His optical implants came with a Combat Initiative Program that would identify threats, weaknesses and certain points of interest, as well as vitals and damage reports. Whilst it remained useless as a normal environment scanner, during the heat of combat or situations that presented a certain factor of danger towards his being, the program would display many useful pieces of information and data to help Mez to survive. Scanning the room, he looked at each of his so-called 'teammates', they were currently all identified as green. Anything new that moved would automatically be identified as red until established that it was not a threat. He had input suspected combat ratings of the other members of the mission back on board the shuttle, only now had he decided upon Hundred's. He noted that Marga had managed to drag an injured Human through the door in time. It was Farvis - the man he had sworn to himself would die by his hand. He felt nothing for him now, even if he were on death's door, although he would have preferred to be the one to administer the killing blow. His former lover was growing increasingly more concerned with the man but Mez let it go, she was prone to becoming emotional during times like these. Instead of hovering over the man, he decided that he would look around the corridor in which they had managed to survive. He began an idle stroll to the left, keeping a single hand on his pistol and his other hand on his blade, ready for anything.</s> <\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name The terminal sparked into life, restoring partial emergency power to the corridor and lighting up the evacuation guides designed to help guide the crew in case of a hull breach, a system which may have been triggered by either the loss of the external hatch, the explosion in the airlock or the shuttle's inglorious exit. Unfortunately for the party, the guides all seemed to be pointing to the very hatch they'd just sealed behind them, granting no further assistance to their endeavour. The emergency lighting however was a little more useful, bringing to light the guide arrows etched into scorched the wall panel. To the bow of the ship lay the main hangar, where the ship's own complement of shuttles was likely housed, a chamber currently exposed to space with the main docking doors opened two meters. To the stern the sign pointed to something identified as a maintenance bay, presumably a facility for the upkeep of the shuttle fleet, as well as other basic ship's systems. The two doors in the corridor were identified as the Shuttle Control Room, and the Head.</s> <\|message\|>Simon Brewer "On my way!" Ignoring the relative havoc that was going on within the docking bay, he rushed to Marga and Farvis' side. His hand found the release of the force field helmet and tapped it, opening up the man's face to the elements, well, all the elements that were in the room anyway. He barely had time to register Hundred careening past the closing door, crashing into Mez and upsetting everything else, but then there she was, sealing up the door to give them breathable air, or at least a semblance of one. The ship's emergency lighting chose that moment to restore itself, though he knew not how, and he had more light than just his visor's light. He flipped the faceplate of his armour up with a flick of his chin and gave the poor man a once over. His face was covered in blood, so was the inside of his visor, his breathing was ragged but steady, but his optics would have to provide him with a better view. As he reached behind him to grab a hand into his back rig, he gave his optics their next command. "Optics, x-ray, scan for severe injuries and highlight immediately." His groping hand found a small tube and he pulled it right out immediately. The translucent green fluid within vibrated gently as the vial settled in his hand while he slowly swept his optics over Farvis' battered body. Even without the help of his tech, he saw the mighty large gash that had torn its way across the man's face, diagonally across and to the left. Thankfully whatever had caused him the damage had missed his eyes; even with his medical supplies he couldn't regrow those here. He popped the top of the vial and poured a small amount of the cool green gel along the gash. The antiseptics in the compound acted immediately, producing a slight buzzing, painful sensation that almost immediately dulled as the analgesics within the gel next took their effect; the gel warmed up and began to melt, flowing into the wound and being absorbed by Farvis' exposed dermis and tissue underneath. As the medigel continued its healing effects, Simon kept his hand still and gentle on the man's face, his eyes shut tight, and if one were to lean in closely, they could hear him muttering, under his breath, the below statement extremely quietly, repeating itself over and over again. "A spiritibus supra omnia curare et absolvat hunc dolorem." The flesh underneath his hand would, almost as if by magic, slowly stitch itself and seal back together. The gash, after all, was a minor injury, merely a flesh wound, and the medigel's rapid healing capabilities could handle that no sweat. It was the other injuries that concerned him more, and shortly his system would have the answer to that. After he'd treated Farvis he would return his attention to the matter of the ship and the rest of their unlikely team.</s> <\|message\|>Farvis Kren Farvis opened his eyes to see the doctor standing over him. "Trying to give me Last Rights, Doctor?" he said. "I'm not Catholic and I'm not dead yet. Thank you for the healing, though." He felt the would on his head repair itself. "Gotta love medigel." When he sat up he grabbed a syringe of stem cells from his kit and laid them on a glowing section the cellular programmer he carried them in. "Still a bit of a concussion. Mind if I use a few stem cells to fix any neural damage?" Without waiting for a reply he told the machine to set program them to mimic human neurons, then injected them into himself. Pulling the needle out, he looked around. "So, I was out for a bit so I've got a few questions. One, who rescued me? I need to thank them. Two, does anyone know which way I need to go to get to the medical bay, as we obviously need to set up quickly? And three, WHO THE HELL THOUGHT IT WAS A GOOD IDEA TO SET OFF AN EXPLOSION IN THE AIRLOCK? I ALMOST DIED!" He shouted the last bit, hoping that whoever that idiot was would realize how stupid they were for doing it. What were they thinking? Explosions in close proximity to others in an enclosed space?</s> <\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name In a sudden burst of sparks and plastic components the terminal under Sevyn's fingers suddenly exploded in her face, almost as if someone had intentionally directed a pulse through the ship's systems to deliberately prevent her from activating anything other than the lights.</s> <\|message\|>"Call me Marga" is how she's most likely to answer the question "what's your name?" Whether that's her real name or not remains unanswered. Marga rolled her eyes at Farvis' outburst, noting gladly that there appeared to be no worse injury than some nasty looking tissue damage and a concussion - which both doctors promptly took care of anyway. Marga stood up, pleased that the situation had been dealt with. Normally she wouldn't have been the one to help out a fellow teammate - and especially not an injured one at that. However the circumstances here were very different from a mission with the Armada. With these people, half of whom were strangers, there was no law that stated that any man who fell behind would be left behind - at least, Marga thought, no one had voiced such a notion. Furthermore, having two trained medical professionals was bound to come in extremely useful given how the team was barely in the Lone Star's front door and had already suffered casualties and fatalities. Looking over to where Mez stood further down the corridor, Marga wasn't so sure what would happen to her if she were that aforementioned person unlucky enough to fall behind. Then again, there was that moment right before and immediately following the bomb going off earlier. Unconsciously, the thief's feet had started leading her over to where the Visipian was standing, hand poised on his gun. When Marga noticed this, she spun on her heel and quickly diverted her attention to the nearest possible thing. This just happened to be the door with writing on it that read 'Shuttle Control Room'. Hoping her earlier actions hadn't been caught by Mez, Marga ran her palm up and down the center of the door. She knocked against the metal a few times too, testing it. Her findings didn't shock her. The door was heavily reinforced, but clearly wasn't designed to outsmart thieves. The middle of the door held the solution to opening it. Marga knocked on this part of the entrance a few more times before she was satisfied, then she opened the messenger-style bad that was slung over her shoulder and started rooting around in its depths. After a few moments of searching, Marga pulled out what looked to be a type of grenade and then a vial of fluorescent purple liquid. Marga popped open the vial and poured the liquid along the edges of the armoured panels that were located down the middle of the Shuttle Control Room's door. Then, the thief expertly and carefully picked apart the grenade and sprinkled its contents over where she had poured the colourful liquid. Grinning, Marga stepped back and watched as the chemicals reacted to effectively melt through the amoured panel, which when Marga stepped forward and tugged at it, fell away easily, revealing six heavy-duty locks beneath it. Marga nodded, more to herself than anyone, then preceded to crack her knuckles. It was an unconscious habit she had before she attempted picking locks, one she'd had for years now. Marga worked silently on the locks, carefully twisted the tumblers this way and that, hoping to hit their sweet spots. It didn't take too long and one by one, a satisfying click was heard from each of them. The thief stood up from where she'd been crouching as she worked on the last lock and took a step back, bumping into a familiar body. Jumping slightly, Marga cleared her throat and stepped to the side. "Anybody want to do the honours?" she asked, referring to pushing or pulling the heavy door open now that she had unlocked it. Well, she hoped she had unlocked it.</s>	<\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name As the locks gave way under Marga's deft touch a gentle hiss of escaping air wafted past as the uncontaminated atmosphere within began to mix with the thinner, less well fragranced air in the corridor. A moment later a series of clicks and whirrs could be heard from the ceiling as ancient systems came back to life, panels sliding apart and gears moving into place lowering a pair of automated guns down into the passageway. For a moment the guns swung back and forth as if uncertain as to what they were supposed to be doing, before springing to life, peppering the hallway with laser blasts designed to discourage unwanted access to the control room behind them.</s>
<\|description\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name Party Roster Hundred Kira - @Tenish the Mighty - Docking Bay Control Room - Active Sevyn Spades - @TTwoThumbsUp - Docking Bay Control Room - Inactive Marga - @Bonjour xx - Docking Bay Control Room - Active Farvis Kren - @TheUnknowable - Docking Bay Access Corridor - Inactive Mez - @Kalas - Docking Bay Access Corridor - Inactive Simon Brewer - @DJAtomika - Docking Bay Control Room - Active James "JR" Rourke - @TheMadAsshatter - Retired Red hatched areas are currently exposed to space and inaccessible for characters not in full EVA gear. Character Sheet Race: Species or sub-species. No defined limits here so feel free to pick any species appearing in popular culture or just make up your own. If your race has any special inherent abilities please be sure to list them below. Appearance: A basic description of the character's overall appearance and common attire, or a photo reference if possible. Personality: Simple psychological profile for your character, giving details of their main motivations and outlook on life. Skills: An outline of the training and abilities of the character. These come in five levels of proficiency: Amateur, Proficient, Experienced, Skilled, Expert. I'd recommend limiting the character to a maximum of five skills with two class or profession skills, two general skills and one combat skill. For example a Mechanic might have Expert Engineering and Expert Mechanics as class skills, Skilled Driver and Experienced Salesman as general skills and Proficient Brawler as a combat skill. Non-standard Abilities: This section is for unique abilities for the character's species, as well as any personal abilities they may have. I'd recommend an absolute maximum of three of these, but would counsel for only one or two in most cases. Equipment: Here you should give details of the main pieces of equipment the character usually carries with them when going on a high-risk mission. I'd recommend taking one or two weapons, at least one piece of class or profession-specific equipment, a set of armour or protective clothing, some form of communications gear and any utility or survival gear you feel would be appropriate. Bio: A brief (two or three paragraph) history of the character detailing where they're from, their current life circumstances and their reason for being included on the mission. Quote: An example of something the character is likely to say, giving an insight into their personality and general life attitude.</s> <\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name As she backed through the doorway the turrets quickly seemed to lose interest in her, their simple machine logic ordering them to focus fire on the people outside the control room, rather than those already inside. The control room itself seemed surprisingly well furnished, with several padded and comfortable looking chairs lining the side of the room and looking out through a heavily armoured viewport into the shuttle bay below. The control panel was shot, literally. The casing marred and pitted with multiple blaster holes, almost as if someone had opened fire on it on full-auto, but the display screens were flicking to life in response to Sevyn's entry, their screens smashed and broken but systems obviously still active, even after all this time.</s> <\|message\|>Simon Brewer He had expected Farvis to stand up and recover rather quickly; the man was a doctor, albeit not a very honest one, but a doctor nonetheless. He nodded as the doors to the innards of the ship slowly slid open after Marga's fiddling. Progress. Finally. "Marga rescued you, Farvis. And as to the medical bay, unless someone has a detailed map of the ship interior, I don't we'll find it that -" Suddenly he was interrupted by the pings and cracks of laser fire from down the hall, and as he ducked out of the way he saw that the fire came from two ceiling mounted turrets that swiveled and tracked their movements with frightening accuracy. Obviously these things were a threat that needed to be taken care of, but he was too busy trying not to get shot to solve that problem. As he dove for cover he spotted Marga and Farvis, frozen in the hallway. He knew that the augmented human could dive to safety quick enough, but Marga wasn't that fast. She took a spatter of laser fire across her abdomen, scorching her suit and whatever armour she wore as she fell. He heard her swear multiple times ("FUCKING SHIT FUCK OW BLOODY FUCKING <alien swear words> OW") as she hit the floor, while their Syndari teammate took cover behind her drone and blasted her way forward. Simon sighed and reached out, grasping Marga by the wrist as he pulled her out of the line of fire and into the relative safety of the bay. Once done, he assessed her just like he did with Farvis. He guessed that the lasers the ceiling turrets were packing weren't strong to completely incinerate whatever they hit, but lasers were lasers; they were hot and they hurt like a bitch. That's what he needed to treat first, and another tube of medigel was all he needed. With Farvis recovering quickly enough from his injuries, he'd still had half a tube left over, so he used that tube and squeezed the rest of it all over her burned stomach and sides, using his gloves to liberally spread the cooling, numbing gel all over the burns. The regenerative agents within the gel would act quickly, sealing wounds, healing her inner flesh and regenerating the outer layers of skin, and though they wouldn't heal whatever cosmetic damage she'd sustained to her suit, she was healthy. He capped the empty tube and slid it back into his rear rigging for refilling later, so now he focused on the turrets. Those things were dual-barreled security turrets, rapid fire laser guns that were more for area denial than anything else. He cursed under his breath, flipped his faceplate down and deactivated the safety of his battle rifle. He felt its computers whirr its internal machinery into life, powering up the huge, magnetic rails and tines that made up its assembly. With fire still spattering the front of that hallway, Simon had barely any space to reach around the wall, but so he did, and he aimed his rifle at the relative area where one of the turrets was and pulled the trigger several times. Slugs of molten metal screamed their way towards his target, punching through whatever armour the turrets had as they buried themselves in the machinery and circuitry, frying and searing whatever they touched before they rapidly cooled, sealing themselves inside their holes, preventing any repair.</s> <\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name "Hey, watch the hands!" Marga glared at Simon, her eyes darting over at Mez for a moment, self-conscious of her own weakened condition. The doctor was already turning away from the stricken Thuboisii half-breed, his rifle firing several shots at the turrets as they continued tracking targets in the hallway. The first volley skitted harmlessly off of the turrets' armour plating, the metal darts bouncing away to impact against the hallway wall. THe second round was luckier, a single sliver finding a weak point in the military-grade plating and digging its way inside the weapon. The turret fell silent, hanging limply from its housing, its innards shredded. The second turret suddenly stopped its random firing, and for a moment darted back and forth uncertainly before locking onto Simon's position and opening fire with all its strength. The charged laser blasts peppered his cover, slowly eating their way through as the electronics hidden inside began to spark and stutter, sending arcs of energy rippling through the surface.</s> <\|message\|>Hundred Kira Hundred bared her teeth as the Syndarin spoke. It was a smile. It did not just resemble one. It wasn't just with her teeth. Mirth reached her eyes. But there was something else in it. A bloody stain on the purity of the genuine smile. A brutality. Some awful anticipation glistened off of Hundred's teeth. The Syndarin was actually challenging her. In albeit an insipid and infantile way, but the brazen gall with which she did so sent an electric shiver through the faulty Gygan. Her mouth opened slightly to respond, so many possibilities whirling through her head and on her lips. Then the Syndarin spoke of the most beautiful thing Hundred could imagine. An explosion of excitement burst through Hundred's nervous system. Then the console exploded across her face. Hundred did not flinch. She regarded the melted ruins of the node. The smile remained. If anything, it only grew in intensity. She looked at the console, then back at the Syndarin. She looked like she was about to kiss the alien, or, perhaps, tear out her throat with her teeth. The smile on her face suggested that the two propositions were not exclusive. Hundred parted her teeth again to speak. A click, the gentle breathy sound of metals sliding across one another, nearly frictionless. The whine of auto-lasers. Now Hundred's smile shifted. No more warmth in the eyes. A snarl now. This ship had a most irritating sense of timing. The Dust reacted according to automated contingencies, reflexively contracting in the atmosphere around Hundred, reorienting themselves in response to the observed threat of the lasers. A small cloud of refractive particles was being generated around her to diminish the strength of any stray bolts that found themselves firing at Hundred, who remained still, crouched next to the panel. Her lips slipped over her teeth, the snarl becoming a more comfortable frown. She calmly watched the scattering barrage. The turrets were not exceptionally powerful, designed for suppression and to avoid causing significant damage to the ships hull or systems. Still, effective anti-personnel weapons with consistent, direct fire. Movement to her right caught Hundred's eye, the Syndarin retreated behind the cover of her drone, retreating into the far chamber. Perhaps she was a useless creature after all, Hundred mused. The magic of the moment was gone, in any case. Hundred turned her attentions elsewhere. The human, combat-medical officer had pulled the Thuboisii into cover turning his weapons to bear upon the turrets. He managed to disable one, drawing the attention of the other. Hundred frowned. The turrets were behaving from software. They had almost completely ignored her. She glared at the remaining turret, firing incessantly with a rapid whine. A burning, liquid anger rose in Hundred's throat. She growled low to herself. It offended her. It wasn't that the thing was trying to kill her or her fellow mercenaries. It wasn't that it's attention resources were not focused upon her. It was how pointless the exercise was. How utterly banal the entire affair was in comparison to the possibilities that had surge through her consciousness a scant, few moments ago. Hundred's wrist flexed. This was the end of enough. The Dust arrayed a portion of itself into a long black blade, similar to the one she had driven into the hull of the ship when she had tried to access the airlock, smaller in scale, but almost identical in function. A second iteration of the idea. Hundred sniffed with disdain, heavy, gloved fingers closing around the lance. She whipped her arm forwards, throwing the spear. The gravimetric control of the Dust adjusting to the flippant, untrained throw. The tip of the spinning spear connected with the base of the turret arresting it's motion vertical, in line with the center of the turret's housing socket. Hundred's fingers transcribed a small circle in the air, the Lance thrust into the machine, punching a small, but vital line through the center of the turret. In the fractions of a second that followed the penetration of the turret casing, the tip of the lance blossomed, a flow of compressed Dust injecting itself into the turrets circuitry. But Hundred was not interested in the simple, robust innervation of the security device. Dust flooded along the circuit lines, swift as signals. It skated along the q-bit, superconductive wiring, fast as thought, spreading throughout the local area circuitry. Hundred did not have a lot of time, she was frozen, her arm still outstretched, somato-tactile control switched over to point-to-point interfacing with the Dust. The remaining Dust cloud around her body slithered and shifted through the air, forging free-form circuits in the air that shifted constantly with her computations. Little golden sigils formed and flowed into one another in the air around Hundred, the only visible indicator of what she was trying to accomplish. If Hundred was correct, she would not have much time to accomplish her intentions. The Dust spindled and spread through as much of the internal ship circuitry as it could, it was beautiful, tracing the Lone Star's nervous system, an intricate, crystalline web of metal and mineral that gave the ship it's life. Hundred's supply of Dust dwindled, her mylination efforts slowed. She felt the commands firing through the network. No time. Hundred mutilated her little slice of the ship. The ships lights turned off for .023 seconds before popping back on. Hundred straightened. She moved slowly, as through carelessness could kill them all. Perhaps it would. She blinked rapidly, her eyes darting with similar frenetic energy around her field of vision. It was always difficult to reorient herself to the more singular perceptions of her 'natural' body. She slowly flexed her fingers and toes. She spoke over the comms in the silence that followed. "I have-" her voice cracked, Hundred paused and cleared her throat. "I have introduced a halting problem to the local area systems for this part of the ship and physically isolated it from the rest of the network." Her voice sounded alien to her ears. "The alternating compilation problem with the system could cease in this part of the ship and we should have no interference from agency in other parts of the vessel." She did not elaborate. Those that would understand a more detailed explanation would more efficaciously be informed by their own interactions with the ship. Those that did not were not worth her time. Hundred walked slowly towards the control room. She had not mentioned how uncertain it was that she could maintain the system isolation or lockdown, the Dust had physically severed the mainline connections with the central ship computers. Thousands of tiny segments of broken superconductive wire were floating around in the walls. But there could be no way of knowing yet whether the ship had the ability to repair such damage, or even if it was capable of identifying that such damage had been done. It did not matter. The brutal action had bought her time. Time to think. To plan. To observe and experiment upon the specimens of the ships computational software she had within her newly minted control conditions. A small, toothless smile returned to Hundred's lips as she stalked towards the control center. Possibilities blazed once more in her mind. She would get what she came for in this mission. Her thoughts only briefly noted the presence of her fellows. Perhaps she was be the only one.</s>	<\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name Inside the control room the damaged system displays suddenly went dead, the screen blanking out as their connection to the central computer core was cut. With no orders in place the ship's systems began to switch back to conservation mode, lights and life support powering down as the systems mistook the interruption as a ship-wide power down. Somewhere, several decks above the intruding party, a presence sensed the change in state, something which hadn't happened since its first awakening. While its mind didn't truly understand the concept a new sensation rushed through its form, a wave of pleasure and anticipation. Its brief contact with the Other had been exhilarating, and even now it could sense its influence growing beyond its own structure.</s>
<\|description\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name Party Roster Hundred Kira - @Tenish the Mighty - Docking Bay Control Room - Active Sevyn Spades - @TTwoThumbsUp - Docking Bay Control Room - Inactive Marga - @Bonjour xx - Docking Bay Control Room - Active Farvis Kren - @TheUnknowable - Docking Bay Access Corridor - Inactive Mez - @Kalas - Docking Bay Access Corridor - Inactive Simon Brewer - @DJAtomika - Docking Bay Control Room - Active James "JR" Rourke - @TheMadAsshatter - Retired Red hatched areas are currently exposed to space and inaccessible for characters not in full EVA gear. Character Sheet Race: Species or sub-species. No defined limits here so feel free to pick any species appearing in popular culture or just make up your own. If your race has any special inherent abilities please be sure to list them below. Appearance: A basic description of the character's overall appearance and common attire, or a photo reference if possible. Personality: Simple psychological profile for your character, giving details of their main motivations and outlook on life. Skills: An outline of the training and abilities of the character. These come in five levels of proficiency: Amateur, Proficient, Experienced, Skilled, Expert. I'd recommend limiting the character to a maximum of five skills with two class or profession skills, two general skills and one combat skill. For example a Mechanic might have Expert Engineering and Expert Mechanics as class skills, Skilled Driver and Experienced Salesman as general skills and Proficient Brawler as a combat skill. Non-standard Abilities: This section is for unique abilities for the character's species, as well as any personal abilities they may have. I'd recommend an absolute maximum of three of these, but would counsel for only one or two in most cases. Equipment: Here you should give details of the main pieces of equipment the character usually carries with them when going on a high-risk mission. I'd recommend taking one or two weapons, at least one piece of class or profession-specific equipment, a set of armour or protective clothing, some form of communications gear and any utility or survival gear you feel would be appropriate. Bio: A brief (two or three paragraph) history of the character detailing where they're from, their current life circumstances and their reason for being included on the mission. Quote: An example of something the character is likely to say, giving an insight into their personality and general life attitude.</s> <\|message\|>Hundred Kira Hundred bared her teeth as the Syndarin spoke. It was a smile. It did not just resemble one. It wasn't just with her teeth. Mirth reached her eyes. But there was something else in it. A bloody stain on the purity of the genuine smile. A brutality. Some awful anticipation glistened off of Hundred's teeth. The Syndarin was actually challenging her. In albeit an insipid and infantile way, but the brazen gall with which she did so sent an electric shiver through the faulty Gygan. Her mouth opened slightly to respond, so many possibilities whirling through her head and on her lips. Then the Syndarin spoke of the most beautiful thing Hundred could imagine. An explosion of excitement burst through Hundred's nervous system. Then the console exploded across her face. Hundred did not flinch. She regarded the melted ruins of the node. The smile remained. If anything, it only grew in intensity. She looked at the console, then back at the Syndarin. She looked like she was about to kiss the alien, or, perhaps, tear out her throat with her teeth. The smile on her face suggested that the two propositions were not exclusive. Hundred parted her teeth again to speak. A click, the gentle breathy sound of metals sliding across one another, nearly frictionless. The whine of auto-lasers. Now Hundred's smile shifted. No more warmth in the eyes. A snarl now. This ship had a most irritating sense of timing. The Dust reacted according to automated contingencies, reflexively contracting in the atmosphere around Hundred, reorienting themselves in response to the observed threat of the lasers. A small cloud of refractive particles was being generated around her to diminish the strength of any stray bolts that found themselves firing at Hundred, who remained still, crouched next to the panel. Her lips slipped over her teeth, the snarl becoming a more comfortable frown. She calmly watched the scattering barrage. The turrets were not exceptionally powerful, designed for suppression and to avoid causing significant damage to the ships hull or systems. Still, effective anti-personnel weapons with consistent, direct fire. Movement to her right caught Hundred's eye, the Syndarin retreated behind the cover of her drone, retreating into the far chamber. Perhaps she was a useless creature after all, Hundred mused. The magic of the moment was gone, in any case. Hundred turned her attentions elsewhere. The human, combat-medical officer had pulled the Thuboisii into cover turning his weapons to bear upon the turrets. He managed to disable one, drawing the attention of the other. Hundred frowned. The turrets were behaving from software. They had almost completely ignored her. She glared at the remaining turret, firing incessantly with a rapid whine. A burning, liquid anger rose in Hundred's throat. She growled low to herself. It offended her. It wasn't that the thing was trying to kill her or her fellow mercenaries. It wasn't that it's attention resources were not focused upon her. It was how pointless the exercise was. How utterly banal the entire affair was in comparison to the possibilities that had surge through her consciousness a scant, few moments ago. Hundred's wrist flexed. This was the end of enough. The Dust arrayed a portion of itself into a long black blade, similar to the one she had driven into the hull of the ship when she had tried to access the airlock, smaller in scale, but almost identical in function. A second iteration of the idea. Hundred sniffed with disdain, heavy, gloved fingers closing around the lance. She whipped her arm forwards, throwing the spear. The gravimetric control of the Dust adjusting to the flippant, untrained throw. The tip of the spinning spear connected with the base of the turret arresting it's motion vertical, in line with the center of the turret's housing socket. Hundred's fingers transcribed a small circle in the air, the Lance thrust into the machine, punching a small, but vital line through the center of the turret. In the fractions of a second that followed the penetration of the turret casing, the tip of the lance blossomed, a flow of compressed Dust injecting itself into the turrets circuitry. But Hundred was not interested in the simple, robust innervation of the security device. Dust flooded along the circuit lines, swift as signals. It skated along the q-bit, superconductive wiring, fast as thought, spreading throughout the local area circuitry. Hundred did not have a lot of time, she was frozen, her arm still outstretched, somato-tactile control switched over to point-to-point interfacing with the Dust. The remaining Dust cloud around her body slithered and shifted through the air, forging free-form circuits in the air that shifted constantly with her computations. Little golden sigils formed and flowed into one another in the air around Hundred, the only visible indicator of what she was trying to accomplish. If Hundred was correct, she would not have much time to accomplish her intentions. The Dust spindled and spread through as much of the internal ship circuitry as it could, it was beautiful, tracing the Lone Star's nervous system, an intricate, crystalline web of metal and mineral that gave the ship it's life. Hundred's supply of Dust dwindled, her mylination efforts slowed. She felt the commands firing through the network. No time. Hundred mutilated her little slice of the ship. The ships lights turned off for .023 seconds before popping back on. Hundred straightened. She moved slowly, as through carelessness could kill them all. Perhaps it would. She blinked rapidly, her eyes darting with similar frenetic energy around her field of vision. It was always difficult to reorient herself to the more singular perceptions of her 'natural' body. She slowly flexed her fingers and toes. She spoke over the comms in the silence that followed. "I have-" her voice cracked, Hundred paused and cleared her throat. "I have introduced a halting problem to the local area systems for this part of the ship and physically isolated it from the rest of the network." Her voice sounded alien to her ears. "The alternating compilation problem with the system could cease in this part of the ship and we should have no interference from agency in other parts of the vessel." She did not elaborate. Those that would understand a more detailed explanation would more efficaciously be informed by their own interactions with the ship. Those that did not were not worth her time. Hundred walked slowly towards the control room. She had not mentioned how uncertain it was that she could maintain the system isolation or lockdown, the Dust had physically severed the mainline connections with the central ship computers. Thousands of tiny segments of broken superconductive wire were floating around in the walls. But there could be no way of knowing yet whether the ship had the ability to repair such damage, or even if it was capable of identifying that such damage had been done. It did not matter. The brutal action had bought her time. Time to think. To plan. To observe and experiment upon the specimens of the ships computational software she had within her newly minted control conditions. A small, toothless smile returned to Hundred's lips as she stalked towards the control center. Possibilities blazed once more in her mind. She would get what she came for in this mission. Her thoughts only briefly noted the presence of her fellows. Perhaps she was be the only one.</s> <\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name Inside the control room the damaged system displays suddenly went dead, the screen blanking out as their connection to the central computer core was cut. With no orders in place the ship's systems began to switch back to conservation mode, lights and life support powering down as the systems mistook the interruption as a ship-wide power down. Somewhere, several decks above the intruding party, a presence sensed the change in state, something which hadn't happened since its first awakening. While its mind didn't truly understand the concept a new sensation rushed through its form, a wave of pleasure and anticipation. Its brief contact with the Other had been exhilarating, and even now it could sense its influence growing beyond its own structure.</s> <\|message\|>"Call me Marga" is how she's most likely to answer the question "what's your name?" Whether that's her real name or not remains unanswered. Marga ignored the commotion going on from where she was sheltered, examining her newly sustained wounds. Damn, laser burns hurt like a bitch - and they'd burned a hole right through her environmental suit to boot. It wasn't a particularly bad or large hole though, so with a bit of luck she could patch it up just fine. And with even a bit more luck they might be able to get the proper power back switched back onto the Lone Star. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but the environmental suit currently keeping the thief alive was also irritating her. It was very cumbersome and heavy. Without it she'd have been able to easily dive out of the way of those lasers. Marga cursed the bloody thing. Though why the lasers were still activated was beyond her. The possibilities were intriguing though - well, to a thief such as Marga they were anyway. The Shuttle Control Room had security to keep out miscreants, that she could understand, there was valuable equipment in there after all and tampering with it could potentially affect the safety of everyone on board. If you were to sabotage it, that was - again, she was approaching the situation like she would if she were planning to steal something. However, the ship was only now running on back-up power which the team had activated. The mystery as to where the turrets were getting their power from was puzzling - and why? Surely there were more important rooms than this one to divert power to in an emergency or black-out situation. Marga mused on this thought for a while. Perhaps there was something of value inside the Shuttle Control Room? Odd place to stash something worth stealing, but the experienced thief had seen odder. Well, only one way to find out. Pushing herself to her feet and letting out more curses, Marga walked into the room. She surveyed it like she was preforming a heist. She grinned, anticipation rising at what she might come across.</s> <\|message\|>Simon Brewer Simon breathed a sigh of relief as the turrets powered down. He peeked out of his cover and them got out the full way as Marga and Hundred went ahead, presumably to scout the way. He hung back a little to let them advance; the Gygan was suitably armed to handle everything thrown at them thus far, so he felt safe, at least, for now. Sevyn was there too, fiddling with a console as the party entered the next room. With rifle lowered he flipped up the faceplate of his armour to give the room a slow scan. "Optics, full scan. Repeat previous." Then, to the rest of the group (or anyone that would listen), he threw out another question. "Anyone hurt?" He knew Marga was wounded, but the painkillers in the medigel he had applied would've no doubt kicked in by now, so he didn't worry as much. Hopefully they'd get somewhere productive this time instead of constantly running into danger like headless chickens. He hoped.</s>	<\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name "Optics, full scan. Repeat previous." Simon's HUD quickly began to filter through various colours as the scanners took in every detail they could. The party's entrance had disturbed the air in the previously sealed room and dust particles danced in the lights from the emergency overhead fixtures. Unlike the parts of the ship they'd seen so far the control room was virtually untouched, apart from the gun-shot control console. Mugs of congealed beverages rested on the work surface and several pairs of overalls worker's hung at the back of the room, almost as if their owners had only just stepped out and would be back any minute, even though the ship had been deserted for years. Across from the armoured viewport the scanner noted a row of security lockers, their access pads disabled due to lack of power. Everything else seemed dead and dormant, the loss of power having cut off all functions in the consoles, whose monitors now lay dark and empty. The scanner chimed a warning as it picked up organic residue on the console. A window opened on Simon's display identifying human blood, the data quickly trying to match it against any known individuals but finally giving up and simply reporting that the blood type was AR+, which meant the person injured had been of a mixed species background, not that it mattered anymore. Even if they'd survived whatever injury had left their blood behind they'd most likely have died of exposure well before the party's arrival. Continuing its survey the scanner pinged off various data ports and power sockets arrayed along the console, signs of heavy use and regular maintenance having been performed right up until the chamber had been sealed. WHatever had happened here it had been sudden and dramatic, driving the crew from their posts before anything could be done to secure the terminals.</s>
<\|description\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name Party Roster Hundred Kira - @Tenish the Mighty - Docking Bay Control Room - Active Sevyn Spades - @TTwoThumbsUp - Docking Bay Control Room - Inactive Marga - @Bonjour xx - Docking Bay Control Room - Active Farvis Kren - @TheUnknowable - Docking Bay Access Corridor - Inactive Mez - @Kalas - Docking Bay Access Corridor - Inactive Simon Brewer - @DJAtomika - Docking Bay Control Room - Active James "JR" Rourke - @TheMadAsshatter - Retired Red hatched areas are currently exposed to space and inaccessible for characters not in full EVA gear. Character Sheet Race: Species or sub-species. No defined limits here so feel free to pick any species appearing in popular culture or just make up your own. If your race has any special inherent abilities please be sure to list them below. Appearance: A basic description of the character's overall appearance and common attire, or a photo reference if possible. Personality: Simple psychological profile for your character, giving details of their main motivations and outlook on life. Skills: An outline of the training and abilities of the character. These come in five levels of proficiency: Amateur, Proficient, Experienced, Skilled, Expert. I'd recommend limiting the character to a maximum of five skills with two class or profession skills, two general skills and one combat skill. For example a Mechanic might have Expert Engineering and Expert Mechanics as class skills, Skilled Driver and Experienced Salesman as general skills and Proficient Brawler as a combat skill. Non-standard Abilities: This section is for unique abilities for the character's species, as well as any personal abilities they may have. I'd recommend an absolute maximum of three of these, but would counsel for only one or two in most cases. Equipment: Here you should give details of the main pieces of equipment the character usually carries with them when going on a high-risk mission. I'd recommend taking one or two weapons, at least one piece of class or profession-specific equipment, a set of armour or protective clothing, some form of communications gear and any utility or survival gear you feel would be appropriate. Bio: A brief (two or three paragraph) history of the character detailing where they're from, their current life circumstances and their reason for being included on the mission. Quote: An example of something the character is likely to say, giving an insight into their personality and general life attitude.</s> <\|message\|>Hundred Kira Phantom sensation. That was what it was. Phantom sensations from limbs Hundred did not have. Had Hundred ever had any limbs? She shook her head like a pack animal. Of course she had limbs. She had the same arrangement of limbs as most ambulatory, sentient species of the galaxy. This wasn't anything new. After such an intimate utilization of the Dust it was always difficult to reorient her senses with the rote material. Hundred placed a hand on the bulkhead to her left, pausing in her progression. She was not dizzy. The feel of the solid section of superstructure was steadying regardless. Hundred closed her eyes and swallowed. It did not normally take her this long to adjust. But then, she had rarely ever attempted such an expansive test of her Dusts' capacities before. Hundred hummed thoughtfully to herself. Stead. Certain. Hundred continued to the control room. Looking around the sepulchral chamber Hundred frowned. There was a story here. Violence always had a tale to tell. The Dust tasted of the blood. It told her that it was made mostly of iron. She hummed again. She was not terribly interested in what the blood had to say. Give her the ions of computational systems over the carbon of the dead. Hundred assessed her Dust reserves. She was spread thin. Her tactics seemed successful, but it had left her greatly diminished in reach and grasp. But she had enough. Moving towards one of the terminals, Hundred extended her hands over the control pylon like a shaman of some failed culture. Flexing her fingers the Dust descended upon the terminal, slithering between casings and keys, running along it's internal circuitry similar to, but much more carefully than, it had with the main lines. As it moved along the circuits, identifying it's structure, motes of Dust coalesced at certain junctures, building microprocessors to interface with the ships systems in novel and useful ways for Hundred's purposes. Building her own access point Hundred allowed her systems to connect with the terminals data. A jolt. Hundred physically jumped, almost imperceptibly as she connected to the system. Also an unusually heightened response. Hundred tasked some SIs to perform a diagnostic on her internal interface hardware and software. Her attention turned to the data. It was beautiful. It was shoddy. It was dense and shallow. It was familiar. Hundred's frown deepened. Familiar? Why? She dove deeper into the terminals backlog of data. No, it wasn't it's contents. That was as the Syndarian had described, like a river frozen mid flow, it was an exquisite, curving collection of data that swirled and shaped itself in an almost illogical pattern as it had shifted as if in response to the intrusion of their attempted access. Hundred could spend months pouring over the dynamics of the way the code transposed itself. But that was not what had garnered her attention. It was not the data in the system. It was not the river. It was the riverbed. The architecture of the system. Sophisticated yet simple. Not the frankensteinian monstrosities of most modern system design, meant for high fungibility and user friendliness. This was custom work, yes, but it was not just designed, as most custom jobs were, for personal tastes and efficiency. It was not an efficient system. It served it's purpose perhaps, but that seemed like a necessary contrivance. All of the systems and subroutines afforded to ship function seemed ancillary. The system seemed designed for massive transference of data. More communications hub than ship system. Like a intragalactic server system. That was what was so familiar. It was like her own systems, back when she was still a branded slave-spawn of the Consortium. The massive processing power distributed over such a large area. Hundred had used them to generate the compression necessary to produce emergent AI. But this system was not the same. Similar, yes, but Hundred's systems were more foundry space. This system seemed smaller, more streamlined. Like a private repair slip. Something blared in the back of Hundred's mind, clawing at her attentional resources. Hundred hummed thoughtfully and pulled away from the system. She was slightly surprised to see it was not her diagnostic tasked SI, but rather her biostatic overwatch systems which drew her attention. A backlog of attenuated requests for system maintenance greeted her. Hundred frowned more. Tissue death. Inflammation. Overextension of ligatures and a dozen other anomalous reports of damaged sensory equipment and necessary physical repair and calibration events. Hundred hummed a soft growl, her systems could not self-repair, at least not at a rate that was satisfactory. "Medic. I require your aid." She said simply over the comm. Breathing out, Hundred shut her eyes again. The Dust remaining around her person obeyed new commands. The fluid layer of Dust that constituted the majority of her suits frenzied into motion. Disengaged from their normal non-newtonian behavior, the Dust flooded to the suit seals, unraveling the seams. Her suit seemed to slit along her flanks, peeling and slithering away from her body, curling up into itself, it folded into her gloves, boots, and mantled collar, exposing her flesh for examination. Mostly naked now, Hundred turned her attention back to the terminal in front of her. The doctor had all the access to her body that he would need for basic medical treatment, she trusted the man to do his job. Her focus was not on whatever he would do to her. Instead she started to dissect the backlog of system behavior in the terminal, trying to parse what had been done to it preceding the teams arrival. Some artifacts of what had happened aboard the ship must remain in the record, Hundred would have them. She let the q-bits fill her processors and brain space. She hummed thoughtfully.</s> <\|message\|>Simon Brewer "You got it." Simon walked up from his place near the rear of the group, stowing his rifle carefully on his front rigging. A cursory scan with his optics indicated that yes, the Gygan was in need of medical attention, though which parts he would need to use medigel and which parts to solder...were not familiar to him. "Hundred, I assume your internal mechanisms can repair themselves with that Dust of yours? For I am unsure of how to treat your more...mechanical injuries. Otherwise, stand still so I can do my work." With her standing straight and still, he ran his optics over her proper, a deeper system scan that ran head to toe to identify injuries, of which she had several. Firstly, all the bruising and inflammation of flesh from the impacts of fragments of the asteroid belt they'd nearly perished in. Secondly, the burns and bruising from when she'd been hit by the explosion of JR's grenade back outside the Lone Star. There was also some stress damage to her legs; torn and stressed ligaments and tendons, bruised flesh and even some minor fractures (if she had any bones, that is). "Alright, actually I need you to lie down for this. On your chest, preferably. I require access to the backs of your knees and ankles." Once she did that, he drew a little gadget that looked and was the size of an average pen. With a click of the back end, a small laser was emitted from its tip. He twisted it and the laser's intensity lowered. With his other hand he grabbed a small spray bottle from his back rigging. "Hundred, I'm going to numb your legs so that I can cut into your flesh. Once I'm done with that, I will be applying medigel to your injured areas, including your bones. I will require you to keep your legs and hips still during this process." He knelt down and flipped his faceplate back on. With his laser cutter in his right hand and spray bottle in his left, he drew in close to the Gygan's lower half. His first step: spraying the backs of her legs with the bottle. The topical disinfectant and anaesthetic within acted quickly, seeping into her flesh and numbing it, along with removing any chance of foreign infection from the outside air or substances that she'd been in contact with. Next, he drew his cutter horizontally down the lengths of her legs and gently drew the flesh open with his fingers. He'd never been familiar with Gygan biology, but upon seeing similarities to human physiology, he was silently pleased. With his optics he found several hairline fractures in her tibia and fibula's shafts, along with more severe breakages at her ankle joints, as if she'd been violently slammed feet-first onto something hard. He didn't really know, he'd been too busy fighting for his life for the past few minutes to have noticed her movements. The flesh around these breakages was injured; inflammed, some bleeding, thankfully no damage to any major blood vessels, including the ones that ran down the inners of her thighs. If those were cut, she would've died possibly, unless her more mechanical physiology would've stopped it. He drew a tube of medigel from his back and popped the top. With a squeeze he laid out half the tube inside her left leg, and the other half in her right. Then he gently pushed the flesh closed with his fingers before using his cutter to cauterise the cuts, sealing them back up while the gel within went to work re-knitting her bones and healing her flesh. Simon reattached the empty tube to his back rigging and stood. "Alright, that's done. You can re...uh, restitch your garments now, but do not move your legs for about five minutes. Give the gel some time to heal you." He flipped up his faceplate, a small smile gracing his face. "Well then, at least that's done with."</s>	<\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name As the nanotech went to work the consoles began to stutter with life, drawing power from Hundred's systems while still cut off from the central core by some mechanical means further into the ship than the Gygan would be able to reach from this lower deck without extending all of her Dust into infiltrating the maze of wires and network connections, or lack thereof, between there and the control room she was physically inhabiting. A surge of data flowed from the local back-up memory drive, files and reports covering over two years of continuous operation, most of which seemed trivially mundane and repetitive. An odd report or mislabelled link flagged up on Hundred's display every few seconds, only to be whisked away just as quickly as her search algorithms identified them as on-going activities or explainable damage suffered as part of the ship's journey. As the algorithms closed in on the last days before the ship had fallen silent more and more of these seemingly trivial repair reports began to pile up and the algorithms began to compile a list. At first the faults seemed random; the temperature in a crewman's quarters turning freezing while he slept causing hypothermia, grav plating cutting out in the middle of a cargo transfer leading to the lose of some non-vital supplies, food replicators defaulting to producing only chilled tomato soup and other such minor mishaps. Scanning back through the records the algorithms found the earliest of these anomalous events had occurred not long after a shuttle whose previous destination and departure details had been erased from the system had docked with the Lone Star. Immediately the algorithms centred on the event, interrogating the system for any information on the shuttle that was available, but apart from the basic registration and identification details of the craft itself all other requests for data were pinged to the central computer, which at present was showing as disconnected from access. Flagging the shuttle for future analysis the algorithms moved on, once again scanning the data files for anything of note until reaching the final recorded entries. A video file crackled into life on one of the damaged screen, the sound muted and illegible, showing a group of crewmembers rushing into the control room while bursts of light, possibly gunshots or explosions, flashed in the doorway behind them. The group were all armed apart from one woman hiding in the middle of them as if being escorted or guarded. In her arms was what appeared to be a large box of some kind which she hugged to her chest tightly while the rest of the party spread out around the room. One of the men, a larger man with subtly different armour from the others, an officer perhaps, moved to access the control panel. After several seconds he began hitting the console with the butt of his rifle before turning the weapon round and firing several shots into the terminal. The woman with the box stepped forwards, apparently angered by the man's actions before her attention was called back out into the corridor. A moment later the party swarmed back out of the room as quickly as they'd entered, heading off elsewhere. Further systems logs recorded the departure of a shuttle a few minutes later, the same one which seemed to have caused all the troubles on-board the ship, but no information was available as to who was piloting the small craft, or what its cargo could've been.</s>
<\|description\|>"Call me Marga" is how she's most likely to answer the question "what's your name?" Whether that's her real name or not remains unanswered. Race: Marga's brother tells her that his best guess on her lineage would be half-human, a man from one of the space colonies probably, and then of course their absent mother. Their mother came from a race of people called the Thuboisii that travel the various galaxies, intent on expanding their people's knowledge and understanding in all matters. Marga has inherited some features of the Thuboisii from her maternal genes. Her mind processes information quick and puzzles or problems present themselves to her easily, allowing her to find solutions rapidly. Similarly, her five senses are heightened beyond that of a full-breed human. Appearance: Marga's physical appearance differs very little from that of a regular human. Though perhaps shorter than average, standing at only 5'5, most of the time she is indistinguishable from the human race. However, when experiencing emotions in their extremes such as anger, arousal or sadness, her skin changes colour to the characteristic light blue and intricate patterning of the Thuboisii people. She has little to no control over the change. Personality: Marga's personality is best described as feline for the most part. She observes those around her with a demeanour of having little interest or care in their goings on, however she is quietly cataloguing information that may be valuable to her at a later date. Furthermore, like a feline, Marga does not exactly do "friendly" all too well. Be sure that when the mood takes her or the situation arises, she can be completely charming and charismatic, often talking her way out of a dangerous situation or likewise, talking her way into someone's interests. Manipulation of people's emotions is easy for Marga. When she sees an opening in a person's metaphorical armour, she pounces on the opportunity given to her. Extracting people's secrets from them without them even realising that they are giving them away is the art form of a grifter - and Marga is no doubt one of the best. Indeed, she enjoys exercising her skills of manipulation and persuasion when given the chance, be this by deception, intimidation or seduction. Marga's own emotions are not kept in check all too well. While she can act pious and meek, those adjectives are not what anyone who knew the young woman would use to describe her. She sees most insults as a challenge - a character fault which has led her into trouble more than once. Ever eager to prove she as earned her place among her fellow pirates, thieves and bandits by her own merit and skill and not by warming the leaders' beds, she can be rather reckless. Marga takes the outlook on life that it is very person for themselves. Though she has her brother, she does not do herself the disservice of relying on him too much for the day may come when they are no longer together. Each person's demons and troubles are their own problem. If they fall beneath the weight and darkness of them, so be it. If a person is not useful to her, they are dispensable and that is just the way of the worlds. As a result, she constantly fears someone better replacing her role in the band of thieves she belongs to. Skills: Marga's hard-earned place in her band of thieves is secure for the moment as she hasn't come across anyone who can exceed her infiltration skills. Whereas the tactic of others is to go in all guns blazing and take over a ship by force, Marga adopts a much more stealthier approach. Locked doors are no obstacle for her, whether she is locked out or in, as she is an expert hacker and lock-picker. Her methods of infiltration involve sabotage - rot a ship from the inside out without anyone even realising she was there. Then, her fellow thieves can attack a weakened and distressed vessel. Another skill Marga could be considered an expert in is explosives. While she is light of foot and generally can either avoid or hack security systems, being detected can sometimes be a problem. Her plan B in such situations for a successful getaway are her trusty explosives. BOOM. Marga is rather proficient in such areas of climbing, abseiling and squeezing/crawling through tight spaces like air vents as her much smaller size and flexibility allows her to do this. Her heightened senses also give her improved hand-to-eye co-ordination. Where she lacks skill is in hand-to-hand combat and knowledge of various weaponry. Her solution when faced with such confrontation is to escape the immediate situation and recalculate her next move. Physically she is not much of an opponent, but intellectually she can bring a man to his knees. Non-standard Abilities: Marga cannot recite to you great works of literature or poetry, but give her an untracked algorithm and she'll break it for you quicker than you thought possible. The Thuboisii have a superior brain in terms of intelligence and storage capacity than that of a lot of other races as they have unlocked more parts of the brain than most. While Marga does not posses the full extent of these attributes, she has an eidetic memory and an ability to pick up information and instructions fast. Equipment: Goggles (see appearance): Marga's googles can pick up changes in temperature (helpful in detecting a person's body heat) and traces of various elements. They are essentially a data base and are excellent when tracking a chemical signature of either a specific race or item. Explosives and Mask (see appearance): Not all of the explosives Marga constructs are simply made to go boom. There are flash grenades made to blind and stun people; small, localised charges made to block passageways; smoke bombs made to provide cover and toxic or chemical bombs made for various purposes but most regularly to render a room of people unconscious. Her specialised mask allows her to breath and not experience any of the effects from her explosives. Lock-picking and hacking equipment: Old school and high tech, Marga can turn her hand to both. Taser gun (see appearance): Located on her left hand, Marga's taser looks deceptively like a rather nasty knuckle duster. However, the sheer amount of voltage fired from the small taser gun is enough to render nearly all species unconscious. Depending on the quality of an opponent's armour, they are not always left unconscious but will experience something similar to having received a blow to the head or having been drugged. The taser is accurate over a range of fifteen feet, any more and results vary considerably. Bio: Marga was primarily raised by her much older brother, Caael, who is also half Thuboisii. Her brother's other half is unknown but is most certainly not human. Marga's mother left her with her brother because to the Thuboisii, nothing is more important than the pursuit of knowledge - even family. Given that neither child showed the promise or desire to gather knowledge and intelligence from the universe, they were abandoned. This is not an uncommon trait of the Thuboisii. Marga's brother was already an established member of a group of thieves when Marga was unceremoniously left in his care. His skill as a pilot had earned him a place among one of the most exclusive criminal groups which was compromised of various experts from across the galaxies. Instead of leaving her behind, Caael established a bond with the young child left in his care and brought her into the fold. Growing up surrounded by pirates, bandits and thieves, Marga's path in life was unsurprising. Though, her rising beyond being a standard crew member to an essential and trusted member of the inner circle was. What led Marga to becoming a member of the team breaching the Lone Star was a botched heist. She and several other members of the infamous group of thieves called the Armada were captured by the United Alliance Navy. Contrary to the saying, there is little honour amongst thieves and so, upon learning on the unique skills Marga possessed, she was given the choice between following her fellow crew members in their executions or joining a task force being sent to explore the Lone Star. Marga chose the later and began planning her escape. Well, that and her revenge. Being a saboteur herself, she could tell that her captured had not being accidental. Quote: "Whatever isn't bolted down is my business. If I can sell it, spend it or trade with it, it's as good as already mine. And if I don't get caught, I deserve everything I steal." ******************** FYI, Though this isn't a primary focus of the story, I'm open to romance with this character if anyone is interested.</s> <\|message\|>Farvis Kren Farvis opened the storage locker and grabbed a shotgun and several extra rounds, then put on a space suit and comm system from the same locker. The medical suit he was wearing could withstand the pressure change and had its own air processing system, but it lacked the ability to heat itself, making it of limited use as a space suit. He activated the force field helmet on his medical suit for extra protection and made his way across the umbilical. He was contemplating how to get the inner hatch open when someone decided to just melt the hinges with a plasma weapon. "Are you just going to keep melting through every locked door?" he asked. "We need to equalize pressure in here. Not all of us can survive indefinitely in the vacuum of space, you know. Everyone needs to get inside so that we can reseal the door behind us, probably by welding in in place with more plasma fire." He entered the room they had just blown there way into, pushing his way past the others if he had to, and went over to the only locker that hadn't been ransacked yet, probably because of the damage to it. To get it open, though, he was going to have to damage it even more. Hopefully it was built like most lockers, and only made of thin metal, otherwise this would hurt. He increased his adrenaline level to Alpha-state levels and punched the center of the locker door. Hopefully the door would bend enough to break whatever minor welding the heat damage had caused and break the locker open.</s> <\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name As soon as Farvis's hand slammed through the thin metal door of the locker he felt sharp claws grabbing at his wrist, cutting easily through his space suit but catching on his sterile suit beneath. Luckily the added protection from the outer armour was enough to prevent any worse damage, but he could still feel the sharp tine sawing its way through the nano-tube reinforced material far more quickly than a conventional blade should be able to.</s> <\|message\|>Sevyn Spades Jemini had the good sense to stay quiet as the Syndarin mentally screamed in her head as she worked desperately to open the door. Her emotions were playing too much with the adrenaline she depended on to stay calm and cool in high tense situations such as this, though usually she had a team behind her back that she could trust and she often had the blessing of being blissfully unaware of the true precariousness of her situations. Unfortunately the misfits Sevyn had found herself with had no respect or no knowledge of how ships were constructed (at least the mercenaries asked her first if it was safe to blow something up), were too focused on baiting and antagonizing each other rather than focusing on the mission (at least the mercenaries she was with waited until after the job was done), psychopathic killers (at least the mercen... well okay her people were essentially a race of repressed psychopaths so she didn't really have anything to counter for this one), or some ungodly combination of all three. She also added "sticking hands into places they shouldn't be" to the list, judging from the sounds behind her, though she admitted that she fell amazingly well into that category. The pilot announcing that he had to leave soon and fast did nothing to help Sevyn's nerves, pounding at the impossible door once in frustration. The nearby console beeped on almost immediately after. Sevyn briefly entertained the possibly of her being capable of great and powerful technomagic before jumping onto the console and began working furiously to activate the manual override. Unfortunately the flashy user-friendly interface shut down the moment the Syndarin touched the screen which made her think of what terrible gifts she was now in control of before the screen rebooted back on, only to now show the base code. The language the code was written in had been cutting edge when the Lone Star was first built, written specifically for it if Sevyn remembered correctly, and it was so impossibly difficult to work with that it was never released to the general public. In fact it still wasn't, and is only used in the most top of the line military software. Of course that didn't stop Sevyn from getting her grubby little hands on it and while programming certainly wasn't her best skill, she sure as hell didn't want to be blown out of the airlock. Although, perhaps it didn't bode well when Sevyn realized she still had trouble working with the code and she didn't exactly know what she was manually overriding.</s> <\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name A grinding howl echoed through the shuttle and the status board lit up with warnings as Felix swore loudly into his mike. "Oh shit! Whatever you guys are doing you'd better hurry up. One of the big rocks just grazed my starboard engine pod and almost killed us all!"</s>	<\|message\|>"Call me Marga" is how she's most likely to answer the question "what's your name?" Whether that's her real name or not remains unanswered. Marga walked passed Farvis as he approached the locker that looked welded shut. As curious as she was to its contents, she figured she'd let Farvis take the risk of opening it. Then if she liked what was inside, she'd just take it - well, eventually anyway. The special environmental suit she had taken from the shuttle felt strange on her person. Unused to wearing such things as they tended to slow one down and limit one's abilities, Marga hoped there would be enough power left in the ship to enable them to activate the basic life support functions. She did note however, that the grip the suit allowed her to maintain on the floor was a point in its favour. The thief was quietly adjusting her small taser gun onto the outside of her suit and pondering how they were going to get the Gygan inside the Lone Star with them when she spotted the Syndarian who had introduced herself as Seyvn Spades standing in front of a console clearly meant for opening the next door. Having preformed a bit of work in that neck of the woods before, Marga had heard of Sevyn's impressive reputation as a pilot and made a mental note to ask for some pointers from her once this was all over. For now though, Marga knew there were more pressing matters to attend to - like the fact that they were all about to become space mush in under thirty seconds if they didn't open the aforementioned door. "Not to brag, but codes, algorithms and cracking them are sort of my thing, love," Marga said, coming to stand next to the Syndarian. "Right, let's see what we're dealing with."</s>
<\|description\|>"Call me Marga" is how she's most likely to answer the question "what's your name?" Whether that's her real name or not remains unanswered. Race: Marga's brother tells her that his best guess on her lineage would be half-human, a man from one of the space colonies probably, and then of course their absent mother. Their mother came from a race of people called the Thuboisii that travel the various galaxies, intent on expanding their people's knowledge and understanding in all matters. Marga has inherited some features of the Thuboisii from her maternal genes. Her mind processes information quick and puzzles or problems present themselves to her easily, allowing her to find solutions rapidly. Similarly, her five senses are heightened beyond that of a full-breed human. Appearance: Marga's physical appearance differs very little from that of a regular human. Though perhaps shorter than average, standing at only 5'5, most of the time she is indistinguishable from the human race. However, when experiencing emotions in their extremes such as anger, arousal or sadness, her skin changes colour to the characteristic light blue and intricate patterning of the Thuboisii people. She has little to no control over the change. Personality: Marga's personality is best described as feline for the most part. She observes those around her with a demeanour of having little interest or care in their goings on, however she is quietly cataloguing information that may be valuable to her at a later date. Furthermore, like a feline, Marga does not exactly do "friendly" all too well. Be sure that when the mood takes her or the situation arises, she can be completely charming and charismatic, often talking her way out of a dangerous situation or likewise, talking her way into someone's interests. Manipulation of people's emotions is easy for Marga. When she sees an opening in a person's metaphorical armour, she pounces on the opportunity given to her. Extracting people's secrets from them without them even realising that they are giving them away is the art form of a grifter - and Marga is no doubt one of the best. Indeed, she enjoys exercising her skills of manipulation and persuasion when given the chance, be this by deception, intimidation or seduction. Marga's own emotions are not kept in check all too well. While she can act pious and meek, those adjectives are not what anyone who knew the young woman would use to describe her. She sees most insults as a challenge - a character fault which has led her into trouble more than once. Ever eager to prove she as earned her place among her fellow pirates, thieves and bandits by her own merit and skill and not by warming the leaders' beds, she can be rather reckless. Marga takes the outlook on life that it is very person for themselves. Though she has her brother, she does not do herself the disservice of relying on him too much for the day may come when they are no longer together. Each person's demons and troubles are their own problem. If they fall beneath the weight and darkness of them, so be it. If a person is not useful to her, they are dispensable and that is just the way of the worlds. As a result, she constantly fears someone better replacing her role in the band of thieves she belongs to. Skills: Marga's hard-earned place in her band of thieves is secure for the moment as she hasn't come across anyone who can exceed her infiltration skills. Whereas the tactic of others is to go in all guns blazing and take over a ship by force, Marga adopts a much more stealthier approach. Locked doors are no obstacle for her, whether she is locked out or in, as she is an expert hacker and lock-picker. Her methods of infiltration involve sabotage - rot a ship from the inside out without anyone even realising she was there. Then, her fellow thieves can attack a weakened and distressed vessel. Another skill Marga could be considered an expert in is explosives. While she is light of foot and generally can either avoid or hack security systems, being detected can sometimes be a problem. Her plan B in such situations for a successful getaway are her trusty explosives. BOOM. Marga is rather proficient in such areas of climbing, abseiling and squeezing/crawling through tight spaces like air vents as her much smaller size and flexibility allows her to do this. Her heightened senses also give her improved hand-to-eye co-ordination. Where she lacks skill is in hand-to-hand combat and knowledge of various weaponry. Her solution when faced with such confrontation is to escape the immediate situation and recalculate her next move. Physically she is not much of an opponent, but intellectually she can bring a man to his knees. Non-standard Abilities: Marga cannot recite to you great works of literature or poetry, but give her an untracked algorithm and she'll break it for you quicker than you thought possible. The Thuboisii have a superior brain in terms of intelligence and storage capacity than that of a lot of other races as they have unlocked more parts of the brain than most. While Marga does not posses the full extent of these attributes, she has an eidetic memory and an ability to pick up information and instructions fast. Equipment: Goggles (see appearance): Marga's googles can pick up changes in temperature (helpful in detecting a person's body heat) and traces of various elements. They are essentially a data base and are excellent when tracking a chemical signature of either a specific race or item. Explosives and Mask (see appearance): Not all of the explosives Marga constructs are simply made to go boom. There are flash grenades made to blind and stun people; small, localised charges made to block passageways; smoke bombs made to provide cover and toxic or chemical bombs made for various purposes but most regularly to render a room of people unconscious. Her specialised mask allows her to breath and not experience any of the effects from her explosives. Lock-picking and hacking equipment: Old school and high tech, Marga can turn her hand to both. Taser gun (see appearance): Located on her left hand, Marga's taser looks deceptively like a rather nasty knuckle duster. However, the sheer amount of voltage fired from the small taser gun is enough to render nearly all species unconscious. Depending on the quality of an opponent's armour, they are not always left unconscious but will experience something similar to having received a blow to the head or having been drugged. The taser is accurate over a range of fifteen feet, any more and results vary considerably. Bio: Marga was primarily raised by her much older brother, Caael, who is also half Thuboisii. Her brother's other half is unknown but is most certainly not human. Marga's mother left her with her brother because to the Thuboisii, nothing is more important than the pursuit of knowledge - even family. Given that neither child showed the promise or desire to gather knowledge and intelligence from the universe, they were abandoned. This is not an uncommon trait of the Thuboisii. Marga's brother was already an established member of a group of thieves when Marga was unceremoniously left in his care. His skill as a pilot had earned him a place among one of the most exclusive criminal groups which was compromised of various experts from across the galaxies. Instead of leaving her behind, Caael established a bond with the young child left in his care and brought her into the fold. Growing up surrounded by pirates, bandits and thieves, Marga's path in life was unsurprising. Though, her rising beyond being a standard crew member to an essential and trusted member of the inner circle was. What led Marga to becoming a member of the team breaching the Lone Star was a botched heist. She and several other members of the infamous group of thieves called the Armada were captured by the United Alliance Navy. Contrary to the saying, there is little honour amongst thieves and so, upon learning on the unique skills Marga possessed, she was given the choice between following her fellow crew members in their executions or joining a task force being sent to explore the Lone Star. Marga chose the later and began planning her escape. Well, that and her revenge. Being a saboteur herself, she could tell that her captured had not being accidental. Quote: "Whatever isn't bolted down is my business. If I can sell it, spend it or trade with it, it's as good as already mine. And if I don't get caught, I deserve everything I steal." ******************** FYI, Though this isn't a primary focus of the story, I'm open to romance with this character if anyone is interested.</s> <\|message\|>Farvis Kren Farvis opened his eyes to see the doctor standing over him. "Trying to give me Last Rights, Doctor?" he said. "I'm not Catholic and I'm not dead yet. Thank you for the healing, though." He felt the would on his head repair itself. "Gotta love medigel." When he sat up he grabbed a syringe of stem cells from his kit and laid them on a glowing section the cellular programmer he carried them in. "Still a bit of a concussion. Mind if I use a few stem cells to fix any neural damage?" Without waiting for a reply he told the machine to set program them to mimic human neurons, then injected them into himself. Pulling the needle out, he looked around. "So, I was out for a bit so I've got a few questions. One, who rescued me? I need to thank them. Two, does anyone know which way I need to go to get to the medical bay, as we obviously need to set up quickly? And three, WHO THE HELL THOUGHT IT WAS A GOOD IDEA TO SET OFF AN EXPLOSION IN THE AIRLOCK? I ALMOST DIED!" He shouted the last bit, hoping that whoever that idiot was would realize how stupid they were for doing it. What were they thinking? Explosions in close proximity to others in an enclosed space?</s> <\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name In a sudden burst of sparks and plastic components the terminal under Sevyn's fingers suddenly exploded in her face, almost as if someone had intentionally directed a pulse through the ship's systems to deliberately prevent her from activating anything other than the lights.</s>	<\|message\|>"Call me Marga" is how she's most likely to answer the question "what's your name?" Whether that's her real name or not remains unanswered. Marga rolled her eyes at Farvis' outburst, noting gladly that there appeared to be no worse injury than some nasty looking tissue damage and a concussion - which both doctors promptly took care of anyway. Marga stood up, pleased that the situation had been dealt with. Normally she wouldn't have been the one to help out a fellow teammate - and especially not an injured one at that. However the circumstances here were very different from a mission with the Armada. With these people, half of whom were strangers, there was no law that stated that any man who fell behind would be left behind - at least, Marga thought, no one had voiced such a notion. Furthermore, having two trained medical professionals was bound to come in extremely useful given how the team was barely in the Lone Star's front door and had already suffered casualties and fatalities. Looking over to where Mez stood further down the corridor, Marga wasn't so sure what would happen to her if she were that aforementioned person unlucky enough to fall behind. Then again, there was that moment right before and immediately following the bomb going off earlier. Unconsciously, the thief's feet had started leading her over to where the Visipian was standing, hand poised on his gun. When Marga noticed this, she spun on her heel and quickly diverted her attention to the nearest possible thing. This just happened to be the door with writing on it that read 'Shuttle Control Room'. Hoping her earlier actions hadn't been caught by Mez, Marga ran her palm up and down the center of the door. She knocked against the metal a few times too, testing it. Her findings didn't shock her. The door was heavily reinforced, but clearly wasn't designed to outsmart thieves. The middle of the door held the solution to opening it. Marga knocked on this part of the entrance a few more times before she was satisfied, then she opened the messenger-style bad that was slung over her shoulder and started rooting around in its depths. After a few moments of searching, Marga pulled out what looked to be a type of grenade and then a vial of fluorescent purple liquid. Marga popped open the vial and poured the liquid along the edges of the armoured panels that were located down the middle of the Shuttle Control Room's door. Then, the thief expertly and carefully picked apart the grenade and sprinkled its contents over where she had poured the colourful liquid. Grinning, Marga stepped back and watched as the chemicals reacted to effectively melt through the amoured panel, which when Marga stepped forward and tugged at it, fell away easily, revealing six heavy-duty locks beneath it. Marga nodded, more to herself than anyone, then preceded to crack her knuckles. It was an unconscious habit she had before she attempted picking locks, one she'd had for years now. Marga worked silently on the locks, carefully twisted the tumblers this way and that, hoping to hit their sweet spots. It didn't take too long and one by one, a satisfying click was heard from each of them. The thief stood up from where she'd been crouching as she worked on the last lock and took a step back, bumping into a familiar body. Jumping slightly, Marga cleared her throat and stepped to the side. "Anybody want to do the honours?" she asked, referring to pushing or pulling the heavy door open now that she had unlocked it. Well, she hoped she had unlocked it.</s>
<\|description\|>Farvis Kren Race: Genetically Enhanced Human Appearance: Personality: Wishes to end suffering, disease, and death. He will help anyone who isn't his enemy, as long as it doesn't mean risking his own life too much. Skills: Expert: Genetics, Biochemistry Skilled: Implant Technology, Surgery Experienced: MMA fighting Non-standard Abilities: Enhanced immunity (Mostly disease, but some radiation), Enhanced healing (10x rate, plus complete limb regeneration, though it is slow), Adrenal control (adrenaline burst gives him superhuman strength and speed, and, at higher levels can place him in the alpha state, ie, bullet time, though it tires him more the larger the burst of adrenaline) Equipment: Prison jumpsuit, Tracking/disable collar, medical sterile suit (carbon nano-tube reinforced polymer weave with a built-in forcefield for the head, to function as an emergency hazmat suit.), self-prepared Med kit (Programmable Antharan stem cells, various pain meds, bio-glue, various anti-viral and anti-bacterial agents, 5 full shots of adrenaline), Neural disruptor circlet (for use in restraining patients.) Bio: Born on Kalasis, a planet in the Proxima Centauri system, he witnesses the death of millions at a young age when a plague infected his planet. It took over a year for the Galactic Medical Society to find a cure for the disease, by which time both of his parents had died. He was raised by his grandparents, and vowed to put an end to suffering and disease. By the time he was an adult he had a degree in genetics and had begun training for his doctorate in medicine. He started conducting medical research in his own home, selling the results of his experiments to the GMS whenever they had need of them. Shortly after graduating, however, the Antharan Security Force found that he was testing his genetic treatments on larval Antharans. While they had no protection under Antharan law, and weren't even officially recognized as sapient beings, he was linked to terrorists with interests in biological weapons, have used them to get supplies on the black market, which gave the authorities probable cause to search his lab. There they found evidence of other crimes, and he was arrested. He was released from prison three weeks ago on probation, and then arrested a few days later on charges of practicing medicine on a revoked license. The military secured his temporary release on the grounds that he help with the Lone Star. Quote: "They have a 95% death rate before reaching the metamorphosis to second stage. The Antharans don't even consider them to be sentient beings until then, but their second stage will adapt to any physical hardship they come under during larval stage. Imagine if all species could adapt to physical hardship and trauma in such a manner." -Explaining to an officer why he was experimenting on larval Antharans</s> <\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name No-one knew exactly when the ship first drifted into the system but as soon as word that it was the Lone Star, thought to have been lost with all hands a decade earlier, every freebooter, scavenger and rogue trader were racing to be the first to board her. Stories of the alien and ancient treasures hidden within her hull had them all salivating and before long the first bodies began to appear in back alleys and floating in rivers. Finally the United Alliance Navy stepped in to quarantine the derelict, using the threat of alien diseases and possible contamination as an excuse to hold back the looters until a properly funded and equipped salvage mission could be mounted. Somehow you managed to make the shortlist for the crew, whether due to your skills, social connections or simply because they couldn't find anyone else willing to take the risk of cracking the possibly deadly seals on the ship's airlocks, and now as you sat on the shuttle launched towards the wreck you wonder to yourself whether the more than generous bounty being paid was really worth it. --- [From: Alphansi Planetary Governor's Office, Operator Unlisted] [To: <USER UNKNOWN>] [Re: LS] I think they're onto me and I won't be able to delay the Navy much longer. Whatever you're gonna do, you'd better get it done fast. At this rate the Rats'll be all over that ship within the week. GET YOUR CREW ON BOARD THAT WRECK NOW! -S</s> <\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name It had been a long ride at sublight to reach the derelict after leaving the closest Naval picket ship behind, and for almost three hours the cramped transport had chugged its way through the asteroids and debris on the edge of the system until finally breaking through to open space. Ahead the Lone Star hung in space, cold and dark. Not even its running lights were operational and as the shuttle performed a close fly-by, radio pinging standard hailing messages on all known channels the hulk remained lifeless. In the passenger compartment sat the ragged party of mercenaries cobbled together from whoever the Admiralty could find to take on the dangerous mission at such short notice. Amongst the sorry lot were an ex-con named Kren, a Gygan going by the name of Hundred, a field medic named Simon, a Visipian with the moniker Mez, a Syndari titled Sevyn and a young woman who'd given the pilot a tingly sensation when she'd introduced herself as Marga, and not the nice one which promised sweaty fun, but instead the one which had him check the ship's ident scanner had been properly calibrated, just in case. Finally Felix, the transport's dedicated pilot, turned on the ship's intercom to address his passengers. "Well guys, looks like we're finally here. And it's not looking too good." He said with a grin, he always preferred life to be a little interesting, after all life as a shuttle pilot was hardly as glamourous as the Naval recruitment vids had made it out to be. "Main power's down throughout the ship, and as far as I can tell from here backups aren't running either. Can't even get a return on the docking bay doors so looks like we're stuck out here unless one of you can figure out how you're gonna get onboard."</s> <\|message\|>"Call me Marga" is how she's most likely to answer the question "what's your name?" Whether that's her real name or not remains unanswered. The long ride from the Naval Base where she had been held did not do much to improve Marga's mood. She had not anticipated she speed at which she would be dispatched to the Lone Star and as such, had had to put together a rather ramshackle plan to escape. Normally one for meticulously careful planning when breaking out of jail cells, Marga had had to improvise. Without her equipment, without back-up and with officers guarding her that had been given the strictest orders of "do not engage with the prisoner, or else" her options for escape had been severely limited. Her escape attempt had ultimately been unsuccessful and had ended when several thousand volts of energy had been applied to her body, rendering her unconscious. Waking up already boarded on the ship carrying her closer to the Lone Star had not improved her mood either. She'd flashed the pilot a smile that had had too much teeth, judging by how he had seemed slightly nervous afterwards. Marga berated herself for that, annoyed that she'd put the man on high alter. She waited many hours for the chance to try again, this time with a gentler, more friendly approach, but the opportunity did not present itself. The long hours waiting for the chance did allow her to take in and analyse her surroundings however. The other members on board the ship did not bother her, with the exception of the Visipian. If he held a grudge against her - and Marga was pretty sure he did - then that was just another problem to add to the increasingly growing list. She'd been careful not to catch his eye so far. The real kicker for Marga though, was that it appeared that she was the only one here against her will as she was the only member of the crew handcuffed. Furthermore, she was the only one without any equipment on her person. If the fact did not irk her so much, she would congratulate the Navy on the quality of their handcuffs. Clearly they weren't taking any chances after her failed escape attempt back at the base. Marga rested her head against the wall and closed her eyes, focusing on twisting her hands and running her fingers over the handcuffs, looking for weaknesses. Without her lock picking and hacking equipment, escaping her constraints would be difficult. Difficult but not impossible. However, there was still the matter of what she would then do. Marga was contemplating her options when the pilot's voice interrupted her thoughts, announcing that they had arrived.</s>	<\|message\|>Farvis Kren Farvis opened his eyes, hearing the pilot say something. He'd been meditating since they left for the Lone Star, hoping to calm himself and clear his head for the mission. Unfortunately, the fact that the only way he was getting out of prison was to help uncover the mystery on the deathtrap they were approaching prevented him from fulling calming down. He looked over to the woman sitting beside him. Marga had done some work for him before, acquiring one thousand Antharan eggs for him to hatch and even bringing him a prototype gene assembler that he couldn't get access to otherwise. "Just think, that hunk of junk could barely be sold for scrap if it wasn't famous, but because it is, anyone who got their hands own it could make a fortune selling it to the right people." It would sound like idle conversation to most people, but she was a thief, and he knew she'd get the message. He was in this for the long game. If the Law wanted to make him a criminal, then he'd be one, but he'd complete his life's work one way or the other. He walked up to the pilot. "I doubt this has anything as advanced as a teleporter on it. Can this thing broadcast power?" he asked. Some rescue ships had microwave transmitters that could send up to a few hundred kilowatts a few kilometers away to provide emergency power to derelicts. "I could probably stay conscious for ninety, maybe a hundred seconds with this suit on in space. If you could get me over there, I could attach the receiver and power the docking bay door."</s>
<\|description\|>Farvis Kren Race: Genetically Enhanced Human Appearance: Personality: Wishes to end suffering, disease, and death. He will help anyone who isn't his enemy, as long as it doesn't mean risking his own life too much. Skills: Expert: Genetics, Biochemistry Skilled: Implant Technology, Surgery Experienced: MMA fighting Non-standard Abilities: Enhanced immunity (Mostly disease, but some radiation), Enhanced healing (10x rate, plus complete limb regeneration, though it is slow), Adrenal control (adrenaline burst gives him superhuman strength and speed, and, at higher levels can place him in the alpha state, ie, bullet time, though it tires him more the larger the burst of adrenaline) Equipment: Prison jumpsuit, Tracking/disable collar, medical sterile suit (carbon nano-tube reinforced polymer weave with a built-in forcefield for the head, to function as an emergency hazmat suit.), self-prepared Med kit (Programmable Antharan stem cells, various pain meds, bio-glue, various anti-viral and anti-bacterial agents, 5 full shots of adrenaline), Neural disruptor circlet (for use in restraining patients.) Bio: Born on Kalasis, a planet in the Proxima Centauri system, he witnesses the death of millions at a young age when a plague infected his planet. It took over a year for the Galactic Medical Society to find a cure for the disease, by which time both of his parents had died. He was raised by his grandparents, and vowed to put an end to suffering and disease. By the time he was an adult he had a degree in genetics and had begun training for his doctorate in medicine. He started conducting medical research in his own home, selling the results of his experiments to the GMS whenever they had need of them. Shortly after graduating, however, the Antharan Security Force found that he was testing his genetic treatments on larval Antharans. While they had no protection under Antharan law, and weren't even officially recognized as sapient beings, he was linked to terrorists with interests in biological weapons, have used them to get supplies on the black market, which gave the authorities probable cause to search his lab. There they found evidence of other crimes, and he was arrested. He was released from prison three weeks ago on probation, and then arrested a few days later on charges of practicing medicine on a revoked license. The military secured his temporary release on the grounds that he help with the Lone Star. Quote: "They have a 95% death rate before reaching the metamorphosis to second stage. The Antharans don't even consider them to be sentient beings until then, but their second stage will adapt to any physical hardship they come under during larval stage. Imagine if all species could adapt to physical hardship and trauma in such a manner." -Explaining to an officer why he was experimenting on larval Antharans</s> <\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name Suddenly the airlock doors ground to a halt, the opening barely two meters wide. Inside the ancient mechanism the Dust felt around before finding the fault, the ancient cogworks which were intended to operate the aperture had been damaged, but not through age. This damaged seemed deliberate, intentional, as though someone had jammed grenades into the workings and metaled them together into an unsalvageable mass of slag. From inside the docking bay small pieces of debris, disturbed by the door's meager activity, began to float out into the void. Scraps of metal and wrappers from low since consumed ration packs drifted passed Hundred in a small cloud. Moments later something else emerged from inside the bay, a small misshaped droid with a single piercing blue optic, barely the size of her hand. Silently in the vacuum the droid scuttled over the hull towards the Gygan as several more of its equally misshapen brethren emerged from within the ship.</s> <\|message\|>Sevyn Spades The Syndarin scoffed in mock anger at being rebuffed so rudely by the pilot, though she was privately amused by how he easily dismissed her, as if he was the king of this tiny little shuttle. Then again, there was no arguing the fact that cockpit doors built to withstand sudden and violent decompression meant that the little king was safe in his undoubtedly cramped throne room. Realizing there was little else she could do but settle back into her seat, block out the sounds of the odd couple and their frankly hostile mating calls, and wait for the one currently in the shuttle airlock to pull out the welcoming mat for the rest of the team. Then it hit her. "Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no, there is no way someone is getting inside that ship before me," the Syndarin snarled as she grabbed Jemini (Jemini Cricket, Sevyn's Ardie) and the rest of her and began pounding on the airlock door, willing for the atmosphere to flood back in faster, with Jem protesting in her loud, usual, chirpy ways. It was a long painful minute while Sevyn waited, followed by another as the atmosphere vented back into space. By the time Sevyn drifted off the shuttle and aligned herself with Jem, a person shaped figured was already outlined against the stark grey of the Lone Star, already at the ship's airlock door. The Syndarin began swearing heavily as her "teammate" reported success with the airlock, her mouth almost as dirty as Jemini's. The drone complaining directly into the Syndarin's comm channel the entire time as Sevyn tightly gripped onto a handlehold on the drone's slick frame, with the drone itself still stuck magnetically as it had been ever since it was forced into space. Sevyn could already see the ship's airlock slowly sliding open, causing her to swear even more profusely as she furiously typed in a rough trajectory for Jem to fly in since the drone refused to do so itself, insisting that there unknown objects moving about near the person-figure. It was then that it hit her again. Derelict ships shouldn't have anything moving about in them. The mercenary immediately grabbed for the rifle placed on her back as she magnetically attached herself to the shuttle, adrenaline clearing her head and her senses as every sight suddenly came into perfect clarity. Sevyn unwaveringly trained her sights on the tiny slit the person-figure had opened, slightly below and to the right of the figure's armpit. Almost on cue, bright blue orbs which blazed harshly in space popped out of the hole, followed by several others. Sevyn's sights snapped immediately to the first one, her finger tense on the trigger should the small drones prove hostile. Somewhere off to her left, Jemini gave a single mocking whirr.</s> <\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name Felix frowned as the airlock status blinked up as active on his display. He hadn't given anyone permission to leave since the Gygan had almost forced her way out of the 'lock, and at least she'd asked for him to let her out, in her own way. For a moment he worried that the argumentative posturing he'd heard coming from the two who'd obviously been wanting to rip into each other from the moment their glowering eyes had met had taken their spat to the next level, but a quick check of the internal cameras confirmed the two were still in their seats hissing and growling each other like a pair of Coripas Oranguhogs. Stabbing a finger into the commlink he opened a channel. "Whoever just activated the airlock, report in immediately." Even as the words left his lips the pilot realised he was too late. Already a figure was moving off from the ship towards the looming hulk. "The airlock is viable, pilot. Dock." @Tenish the Mighty Turning his attention away from the unauthorised space walk Felix checked his navigational sensors and saw the docking bay doors had opened, only to freeze up again with only a couple of meters clearance. "I know you all consider me a miracle worker of a pilot, but even I can't fit a ship this size through a gap like that!" He barked, still cooling from the misuse of the airlock and taking his stress out unfairly on the Gygan. So far she was the only one of the 'specialists' he was carrying who'd actually managed to achieve anything. With a deep sigh he let his temper calm before thumbing the mike on again. "Look I'm sorry but I guess the dock's a no go. I'm going to try and bring the ship close enough to get a lock on the maintenance hatch with the umbilical. Anyone care to volunteer as my co-pilot?"</s>	<\|message\|>Farvis Kren Farvis listened to the pilot's explanation and nodded. Typical government compromise, he thought. Half the people want to decrease military spending, and half want to keep the military as strong as it was, so, instead of decreasing the number of ships and keeping them on par with mercenary equipment, you compromise. You decrease the budget AND keep it the same size, leading to all of the military gear being worthless. I wouldn't be surprised if there were a few backroom deals involved in those contracts, either. He walked back to his seat and listened to the others try to come up with a plan. That was, until Marga addressed him. "Now that's an idea, Farvis, how about you and I spend some time together on one of the Askarian moons and have a little fun when all this is over? For old times sake." "Oh, I'm definitely up for spend some "quality" time with you. I hear there are nude beaches there where the views are stunning. Of course, with you there I have no doubt of that they will be." Of course, they'd never actually been together, but the Ex didn't know that, and playing along would get her even more on his side. "As soon as the mission's over and we're free, I'll go make a withdrawal from one of my hidden accounts and buy us a cabin on a cruise liner heading there." Hopefully the last part would be enough to convince the Ex that they'd been together. He watched as one of the crew got up and irritatedly entered the airlock with a robot of some kind. The pilot demanded that they identify themselves, but apparently they had already jumped ship. He walked over to the airlock, but the indicator panel showed that there wasn't any air inside. Well, so much for boarding the station. Judging by the pilot's comments, things were going to well outside the station either. He wasn't a pilot, though, so he couldn't help.</s>
<\|description\|>Farvis Kren Race: Genetically Enhanced Human Appearance: Personality: Wishes to end suffering, disease, and death. He will help anyone who isn't his enemy, as long as it doesn't mean risking his own life too much. Skills: Expert: Genetics, Biochemistry Skilled: Implant Technology, Surgery Experienced: MMA fighting Non-standard Abilities: Enhanced immunity (Mostly disease, but some radiation), Enhanced healing (10x rate, plus complete limb regeneration, though it is slow), Adrenal control (adrenaline burst gives him superhuman strength and speed, and, at higher levels can place him in the alpha state, ie, bullet time, though it tires him more the larger the burst of adrenaline) Equipment: Prison jumpsuit, Tracking/disable collar, medical sterile suit (carbon nano-tube reinforced polymer weave with a built-in forcefield for the head, to function as an emergency hazmat suit.), self-prepared Med kit (Programmable Antharan stem cells, various pain meds, bio-glue, various anti-viral and anti-bacterial agents, 5 full shots of adrenaline), Neural disruptor circlet (for use in restraining patients.) Bio: Born on Kalasis, a planet in the Proxima Centauri system, he witnesses the death of millions at a young age when a plague infected his planet. It took over a year for the Galactic Medical Society to find a cure for the disease, by which time both of his parents had died. He was raised by his grandparents, and vowed to put an end to suffering and disease. By the time he was an adult he had a degree in genetics and had begun training for his doctorate in medicine. He started conducting medical research in his own home, selling the results of his experiments to the GMS whenever they had need of them. Shortly after graduating, however, the Antharan Security Force found that he was testing his genetic treatments on larval Antharans. While they had no protection under Antharan law, and weren't even officially recognized as sapient beings, he was linked to terrorists with interests in biological weapons, have used them to get supplies on the black market, which gave the authorities probable cause to search his lab. There they found evidence of other crimes, and he was arrested. He was released from prison three weeks ago on probation, and then arrested a few days later on charges of practicing medicine on a revoked license. The military secured his temporary release on the grounds that he help with the Lone Star. Quote: "They have a 95% death rate before reaching the metamorphosis to second stage. The Antharans don't even consider them to be sentient beings until then, but their second stage will adapt to any physical hardship they come under during larval stage. Imagine if all species could adapt to physical hardship and trauma in such a manner." -Explaining to an officer why he was experimenting on larval Antharans</s> <\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name "Don't worry, I'm already playing the Countdown theme over here. Can't just dump the boarding party and run without at least giving them a chance to get the job done, otherwise I'll be toasted by the Admiralty rather than some useless chunk of rock." Felix replied back testily, his hands hovering over the control panel ready to break free the instant he got the all clear, or when the clock ran out. The light pattering sound on the shuttle's hull almost reminded him of the rainstorm back at home, except those storms couldn't suddenly change into a maelstrom of deadly metal fragments at a moment's notice. He should've been gone well before the storm reached them, and unless he broke away soon he'd never make it clear in time.</s> <\|message\|>"Call me Marga" is how she's most likely to answer the question "what's your name?" Whether that's her real name or not remains unanswered. "Well you won't be needing a ruler for mine, I'm sure you remember well enough. Give it an hour, though, and I doubt you'll need a ruler for his either, seeing as that's what you do best, am I right?" @Kalas Marga's face froze for a second, before her left eye gave an involuntary twitched and her expression morphed from one of smugness into one of sheer vexation. For a split second she was tempted to retort back the she'd need the magnifying spectrum on her googles, but the childish response died in her throat before it even had a half decent chance of being voiced. The biting comment didn't perturb her as much as the fact that Mez could still call her out on her shit when she was being full of herself; that he could still tell when her behaviour was an act she put on. Besides her former paramour, there were only two other beings which had ever been able to tell when Marga was being fake, when her actions and words were part of a performance meant to conceal something. Those two individuals were her brother and her mother. With the exception of Mez for one short stage in her life, Marga had never been closer to another person than she was to her brother. Her mother however was another matter. While her brother knew how to read her demeanour from years of practice from raising her from childhood and then working alongside her when she became an adult, Marga's estranged mother instinctively knew when her daughter's conduct was a sham, a pre tense that was filled with posturing. But they shared the same blood as her, something therefore bound them together, connected them. How Mez could tell performance from actuality was still unknown to her. Even back when he was no more to her than a possible fling, someone to waste a few hours with between the sheets, to escape from reality for a short while before she had to head back to the Armada and deal with a bunch of arseholes who gave her the absolute minimum respect they could get away with without receiving any punishment, Mez had been able to call her out on her shit. When she'd entered that bar all that time ago and clocked Mez standing near the bar nursing a drink, she had sauntered over to the handsome stranger, full of cockiness and confidence, her seductrice mask had just automatically fallen into place. Seduction was a game and Marga always won. Seduction was about manipulation and control. Seduction was power. And then that bastard had seen right through her facade and knocked her whole world off its axis. Suddenly it was a situation that Marga couldn't control, where there were unknowns that she couldn't anticipate. Suddenly she was unsure of herself. The feeling had blind-sided her then, and it had the exact same effect on her now. Uncertainty got you killed. Uncertainty made you vulnerable. Uncertainty led to failure. It was an emotion Marga couldn't afford. She had fought tooth and nail for her position in the Armada and she knew that all it would take was one slight crack in her metaphorical armour and it would all be wrenched from her grasp. She worked with thugs, ruffians and murderers. If she gave in to them even a single inch, they would see her as a weak link. Weak links were disposed of - or worse. Yes, Marga knew there were worse things that could happen to her than death or mutiny at the hands of the outfit of pirates. And hence the need for her mask and if she had to be perceived as a bitch to maintain it, so be it. Until she had met Mez, Marga had been positive that her mask was flawless. With the exception of family, no one had ever seen through it before. It had taken her several weeks to realise that instead of annoyance at having been found out, what she actually felt was pleased. The ramifications of that self-discovery was what had eventually sent her right back to Mez. Standing just inside of the Navy shuttle, Marga ground her thoughts to a halt. Her mind had a strong tendency to wonder, her emotions getting the better of her. But now wasn't the time to reminisce on such things. Marga had a decision to make. With the astroid field closing in on them within the next thirty seconds, the thief knew she didn't have the necessary piloting skills to make a successful getaway without being torn to shreds. As Marga eyed the umbilical tunnel, her attention was caught by the only unopened locker on the other side of the Lone Star's docking entrance. Locked. Marga liked things that were locked. It meant someone had taken the time to place something they valued into the locker, box, vault, etc to keep it safe. People regarded items differently - as they said, one man's rubbish is another man's gold. Marga felt a familiar tingle starting at the tips of her long, slender fingers. The more she pondered the mystery that was the Lone Star, she further up her hands and arms the sensation traveled. Locked. In its essence, the dreadnought was one massive locked box… And Marga had never been able to resist peeking inside a locked box. So, despite her reservations, the thief turned back to where she had spied a set of naval issue environmental suits, quickly slid into it, placed the helmet over her head, grabbed a pair of small laser-beam guns, then turned and put one foot in front of the other and walked down the connecting tunnel and stepped into the Lone Star.</s> <\|message\|>Farvis Kren Farvis opened the storage locker and grabbed a shotgun and several extra rounds, then put on a space suit and comm system from the same locker. The medical suit he was wearing could withstand the pressure change and had its own air processing system, but it lacked the ability to heat itself, making it of limited use as a space suit. He activated the force field helmet on his medical suit for extra protection and made his way across the umbilical. He was contemplating how to get the inner hatch open when someone decided to just melt the hinges with a plasma weapon. "Are you just going to keep melting through every locked door?" he asked. "We need to equalize pressure in here. Not all of us can survive indefinitely in the vacuum of space, you know. Everyone needs to get inside so that we can reseal the door behind us, probably by welding in in place with more plasma fire." He entered the room they had just blown there way into, pushing his way past the others if he had to, and went over to the only locker that hadn't been ransacked yet, probably because of the damage to it. To get it open, though, he was going to have to damage it even more. Hopefully it was built like most lockers, and only made of thin metal, otherwise this would hurt. He increased his adrenaline level to Alpha-state levels and punched the center of the locker door. Hopefully the door would bend enough to break whatever minor welding the heat damage had caused and break the locker open.</s> <\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name As soon as Farvis's hand slammed through the thin metal door of the locker he felt sharp claws grabbing at his wrist, cutting easily through his space suit but catching on his sterile suit beneath. Luckily the added protection from the outer armour was enough to prevent any worse damage, but he could still feel the sharp tine sawing its way through the nano-tube reinforced material far more quickly than a conventional blade should be able to.</s> <\|message\|>Sevyn Spades Jemini had the good sense to stay quiet as the Syndarin mentally screamed in her head as she worked desperately to open the door. Her emotions were playing too much with the adrenaline she depended on to stay calm and cool in high tense situations such as this, though usually she had a team behind her back that she could trust and she often had the blessing of being blissfully unaware of the true precariousness of her situations. Unfortunately the misfits Sevyn had found herself with had no respect or no knowledge of how ships were constructed (at least the mercenaries asked her first if it was safe to blow something up), were too focused on baiting and antagonizing each other rather than focusing on the mission (at least the mercenaries she was with waited until after the job was done), psychopathic killers (at least the mercen... well okay her people were essentially a race of repressed psychopaths so she didn't really have anything to counter for this one), or some ungodly combination of all three. She also added "sticking hands into places they shouldn't be" to the list, judging from the sounds behind her, though she admitted that she fell amazingly well into that category. The pilot announcing that he had to leave soon and fast did nothing to help Sevyn's nerves, pounding at the impossible door once in frustration. The nearby console beeped on almost immediately after. Sevyn briefly entertained the possibly of her being capable of great and powerful technomagic before jumping onto the console and began working furiously to activate the manual override. Unfortunately the flashy user-friendly interface shut down the moment the Syndarin touched the screen which made her think of what terrible gifts she was now in control of before the screen rebooted back on, only to now show the base code. The language the code was written in had been cutting edge when the Lone Star was first built, written specifically for it if Sevyn remembered correctly, and it was so impossibly difficult to work with that it was never released to the general public. In fact it still wasn't, and is only used in the most top of the line military software. Of course that didn't stop Sevyn from getting her grubby little hands on it and while programming certainly wasn't her best skill, she sure as hell didn't want to be blown out of the airlock. Although, perhaps it didn't bode well when Sevyn realized she still had trouble working with the code and she didn't exactly know what she was manually overriding.</s> <\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name A grinding howl echoed through the shuttle and the status board lit up with warnings as Felix swore loudly into his mike. "Oh shit! Whatever you guys are doing you'd better hurry up. One of the big rocks just grazed my starboard engine pod and almost killed us all!"</s> <\|message\|>"Call me Marga" is how she's most likely to answer the question "what's your name?" Whether that's her real name or not remains unanswered. Marga walked passed Farvis as he approached the locker that looked welded shut. As curious as she was to its contents, she figured she'd let Farvis take the risk of opening it. Then if she liked what was inside, she'd just take it - well, eventually anyway. The special environmental suit she had taken from the shuttle felt strange on her person. Unused to wearing such things as they tended to slow one down and limit one's abilities, Marga hoped there would be enough power left in the ship to enable them to activate the basic life support functions. She did note however, that the grip the suit allowed her to maintain on the floor was a point in its favour. The thief was quietly adjusting her small taser gun onto the outside of her suit and pondering how they were going to get the Gygan inside the Lone Star with them when she spotted the Syndarian who had introduced herself as Seyvn Spades standing in front of a console clearly meant for opening the next door. Having preformed a bit of work in that neck of the woods before, Marga had heard of Sevyn's impressive reputation as a pilot and made a mental note to ask for some pointers from her once this was all over. For now though, Marga knew there were more pressing matters to attend to - like the fact that they were all about to become space mush in under thirty seconds if they didn't open the aforementioned door. "Not to brag, but codes, algorithms and cracking them are sort of my thing, love," Marga said, coming to stand next to the Syndarian. "Right, let's see what we're dealing with."</s>	<\|message\|>Farvis Kren Farvis felt something cut through the wrist of his space suit at rub against the wrist of his medical suit. In the slowed down time of Alpha state he was able to pull his hand out before it could do anything more. He then drew his shotgun and fired three times into the hole, the motion of the shotgun taking him several seconds to pump the next shell into the firing chamber as he perceived it. After he fired it he pulled himself out of the Alpha state so that he wouldn't wear himself out any more, abut kept the gun trained on the hole. "Something's in there." he said, "It felt like some creature tried to cut my hand off."</s>
<\|description\|>Farvis Kren Race: Genetically Enhanced Human Appearance: Personality: Wishes to end suffering, disease, and death. He will help anyone who isn't his enemy, as long as it doesn't mean risking his own life too much. Skills: Expert: Genetics, Biochemistry Skilled: Implant Technology, Surgery Experienced: MMA fighting Non-standard Abilities: Enhanced immunity (Mostly disease, but some radiation), Enhanced healing (10x rate, plus complete limb regeneration, though it is slow), Adrenal control (adrenaline burst gives him superhuman strength and speed, and, at higher levels can place him in the alpha state, ie, bullet time, though it tires him more the larger the burst of adrenaline) Equipment: Prison jumpsuit, Tracking/disable collar, medical sterile suit (carbon nano-tube reinforced polymer weave with a built-in forcefield for the head, to function as an emergency hazmat suit.), self-prepared Med kit (Programmable Antharan stem cells, various pain meds, bio-glue, various anti-viral and anti-bacterial agents, 5 full shots of adrenaline), Neural disruptor circlet (for use in restraining patients.) Bio: Born on Kalasis, a planet in the Proxima Centauri system, he witnesses the death of millions at a young age when a plague infected his planet. It took over a year for the Galactic Medical Society to find a cure for the disease, by which time both of his parents had died. He was raised by his grandparents, and vowed to put an end to suffering and disease. By the time he was an adult he had a degree in genetics and had begun training for his doctorate in medicine. He started conducting medical research in his own home, selling the results of his experiments to the GMS whenever they had need of them. Shortly after graduating, however, the Antharan Security Force found that he was testing his genetic treatments on larval Antharans. While they had no protection under Antharan law, and weren't even officially recognized as sapient beings, he was linked to terrorists with interests in biological weapons, have used them to get supplies on the black market, which gave the authorities probable cause to search his lab. There they found evidence of other crimes, and he was arrested. He was released from prison three weeks ago on probation, and then arrested a few days later on charges of practicing medicine on a revoked license. The military secured his temporary release on the grounds that he help with the Lone Star. Quote: "They have a 95% death rate before reaching the metamorphosis to second stage. The Antharans don't even consider them to be sentient beings until then, but their second stage will adapt to any physical hardship they come under during larval stage. Imagine if all species could adapt to physical hardship and trauma in such a manner." -Explaining to an officer why he was experimenting on larval Antharans</s> <\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name Inside the control room the damaged system displays suddenly went dead, the screen blanking out as their connection to the central computer core was cut. With no orders in place the ship's systems began to switch back to conservation mode, lights and life support powering down as the systems mistook the interruption as a ship-wide power down. Somewhere, several decks above the intruding party, a presence sensed the change in state, something which hadn't happened since its first awakening. While its mind didn't truly understand the concept a new sensation rushed through its form, a wave of pleasure and anticipation. Its brief contact with the Other had been exhilarating, and even now it could sense its influence growing beyond its own structure.</s> <\|message\|>"Call me Marga" is how she's most likely to answer the question "what's your name?" Whether that's her real name or not remains unanswered. Marga ignored the commotion going on from where she was sheltered, examining her newly sustained wounds. Damn, laser burns hurt like a bitch - and they'd burned a hole right through her environmental suit to boot. It wasn't a particularly bad or large hole though, so with a bit of luck she could patch it up just fine. And with even a bit more luck they might be able to get the proper power back switched back onto the Lone Star. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but the environmental suit currently keeping the thief alive was also irritating her. It was very cumbersome and heavy. Without it she'd have been able to easily dive out of the way of those lasers. Marga cursed the bloody thing. Though why the lasers were still activated was beyond her. The possibilities were intriguing though - well, to a thief such as Marga they were anyway. The Shuttle Control Room had security to keep out miscreants, that she could understand, there was valuable equipment in there after all and tampering with it could potentially affect the safety of everyone on board. If you were to sabotage it, that was - again, she was approaching the situation like she would if she were planning to steal something. However, the ship was only now running on back-up power which the team had activated. The mystery as to where the turrets were getting their power from was puzzling - and why? Surely there were more important rooms than this one to divert power to in an emergency or black-out situation. Marga mused on this thought for a while. Perhaps there was something of value inside the Shuttle Control Room? Odd place to stash something worth stealing, but the experienced thief had seen odder. Well, only one way to find out. Pushing herself to her feet and letting out more curses, Marga walked into the room. She surveyed it like she was preforming a heist. She grinned, anticipation rising at what she might come across.</s> <\|message\|>Simon Brewer Simon breathed a sigh of relief as the turrets powered down. He peeked out of his cover and them got out the full way as Marga and Hundred went ahead, presumably to scout the way. He hung back a little to let them advance; the Gygan was suitably armed to handle everything thrown at them thus far, so he felt safe, at least, for now. Sevyn was there too, fiddling with a console as the party entered the next room. With rifle lowered he flipped up the faceplate of his armour to give the room a slow scan. "Optics, full scan. Repeat previous." Then, to the rest of the group (or anyone that would listen), he threw out another question. "Anyone hurt?" He knew Marga was wounded, but the painkillers in the medigel he had applied would've no doubt kicked in by now, so he didn't worry as much. Hopefully they'd get somewhere productive this time instead of constantly running into danger like headless chickens. He hoped.</s> <\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name "Optics, full scan. Repeat previous." Simon's HUD quickly began to filter through various colours as the scanners took in every detail they could. The party's entrance had disturbed the air in the previously sealed room and dust particles danced in the lights from the emergency overhead fixtures. Unlike the parts of the ship they'd seen so far the control room was virtually untouched, apart from the gun-shot control console. Mugs of congealed beverages rested on the work surface and several pairs of overalls worker's hung at the back of the room, almost as if their owners had only just stepped out and would be back any minute, even though the ship had been deserted for years. Across from the armoured viewport the scanner noted a row of security lockers, their access pads disabled due to lack of power. Everything else seemed dead and dormant, the loss of power having cut off all functions in the consoles, whose monitors now lay dark and empty. The scanner chimed a warning as it picked up organic residue on the console. A window opened on Simon's display identifying human blood, the data quickly trying to match it against any known individuals but finally giving up and simply reporting that the blood type was AR+, which meant the person injured had been of a mixed species background, not that it mattered anymore. Even if they'd survived whatever injury had left their blood behind they'd most likely have died of exposure well before the party's arrival. Continuing its survey the scanner pinged off various data ports and power sockets arrayed along the console, signs of heavy use and regular maintenance having been performed right up until the chamber had been sealed. WHatever had happened here it had been sudden and dramatic, driving the crew from their posts before anything could be done to secure the terminals.</s>	<\|message\|>Farvis Kren "Anyone hurt?" Farvis stood up off the ground and checked himself. "I'm fine." he said. At least this time he had managed to dodge the attack by ducking for cover, something that was much easier when it wasn't krivin friendly fire. He saw Marga heading to the shuttle bay control room and noticed that she had been hit, then walked over to her. "We have a wounded person, though." He pulled some pain killers of his kit. "Are you in pain?" he asked her. He prepared to give her a small shot. Syrial, .14 miligrams. It was designed to work on a wide variety of alien races, and had roughly the same effect on humans and Thuboisii. It was the safest thing he had in his kit given the fact that her mixed anatomy made it difficult to predict the effects of the rest. "So, find anything useful?" he asked her.</s>
<\|description\|>James "JR" Rourke Race: Human Appearance: James is a pretty slender guy, standing at 5'10" and weighing 148 lbs. He has fairly attractive features; well-toned muscles, nice mid-length brown hair, green eyes, a shapely chin, and attractive facial features in general. He also looks pretty young, for thirty, and while he may look attractive, he also has a consistent look of annoyance or lack of giving a shit, which tends to repel some people. Personality: In a nutshell, James has a very devil-may-care attitude, mixed in with blunt honesty, sarcasm, and a touch of jaded withdrawal. Skills: -Expert Weapons Engineering -Skilled Mechanics -Skilled Close Quarters Operations -Amateur Hacking Equipment: -YF12 Blaster Pistol: A standard pistol used by many privateers, it functions by concentrating electrons into a plasma-like bolt of energy. It is powered by interchangeable power cells which function like magazines, containing enough power for anywhere between 45 and 55 bolts, depending on the quality of the cell. The YF12 has a fairly low range due to the nature of it's shots, with the bolts typically losing their efficacy between 50 and 60 meters and dissipating at 75 meters. They inflict fairly high damage, are pretty accurate, have low recoil, and a moderate rate of fire. -KA76 Submachine Gun: A somewhat older design, the KA76 functions similar to a blaster, but instead uses physical ammunition consisting of ceramic flechettes containing a plasmoid liquid which is charged in the firing process and converted into pure plasma. The casing contains the charge far better than the YF12, resulting in better range, though it suffers in inflicting damage. It does, however, have a very high rate of fire, decent accuracy, very low recoil, and a magazine capacity of 120 rounds, making it ideal for close quarters. -Weapons Maintenance Kit: "The Leo-tec advanced weapons maintenance kit contains all the tools you'll need to fix any gun, anywhere, anytime. Replacement parts sold separately." -M23 Standard Headset and Uplink: An earpiece/headband which acts as a communicator, as well as relays vital information to the user's eyepiece. Typically used in squads where tactical information may be needed in a fraction of a second. Bio: James was born and raised on Halloran, a cold planet inhabited by several different races. While civilized, the planet was also small and sparsely populated, and thus quite boring. There was never any sort of danger, and James was having none of that shit. He wanted to get out and explore the fringes of known space, and when he reached the age of 17 he got an opportunity to join the Sol Alliance Navy with the guarantee that he would be on an exploration vessel. During training, he became enthralled with the mechanics of modern weaponry. Although he was trained as a CQC specialist to begin with, he was soon switched over to the position of weapons specialist, and within weeks he knew everything about the Alliance's small arms, along with several other weapons built by private manufacturers. When his training was finished, he was placed onboard a light expedition vessel. He and his crew marked several planets for future colonization, encountering all sorts of hostile wildlife, and on one occasion, a band of pirates. After doing this for seven years or so, James began to actually get bored. Even exploring planets seemed to become nothing more than just going through the motions. Land here, shoot anything with teeth the size of your arm, drop some beacons and survey probes, maintain the squad's weapons, extract from the planet, repeat. Maybe it was the idea of procedure that put James off. He wanted more unpredictability, which he got when he left the Navy and became a privateer. He began to help on explorations with random people rather than a government entity, and that helped make things a bit more fun, but it still was basically the same thing as before. Still, it allowed him to build a reputation as someone who could handle himself and was virtually without fear, not to mention he knew his way around a gun more than pretty much anyone else. In his days of exploring, he never went a day without having his curiosity satisfied, but he went nearly every day without any real excitement. When he heard about the appearance of the long-missing Lone Star, and that a crew was being assembled to enter the ship, he was more than interested in checking it out. This time, hopefully, he could satisfy both his curiosity and his need for some adrenaline. Quotes: "What can I say; shit happens." "Hold your horses! Fixing a plasma rifle takes time, and if I'm not careful it can blow us all up." "Well, that's a thing."</s> <\|message\|>"Call me Marga" is how she's most likely to answer the question "what's your name?" Whether that's her real name or not remains unanswered. The long ride from the Naval Base where she had been held did not do much to improve Marga's mood. She had not anticipated she speed at which she would be dispatched to the Lone Star and as such, had had to put together a rather ramshackle plan to escape. Normally one for meticulously careful planning when breaking out of jail cells, Marga had had to improvise. Without her equipment, without back-up and with officers guarding her that had been given the strictest orders of "do not engage with the prisoner, or else" her options for escape had been severely limited. Her escape attempt had ultimately been unsuccessful and had ended when several thousand volts of energy had been applied to her body, rendering her unconscious. Waking up already boarded on the ship carrying her closer to the Lone Star had not improved her mood either. She'd flashed the pilot a smile that had had too much teeth, judging by how he had seemed slightly nervous afterwards. Marga berated herself for that, annoyed that she'd put the man on high alter. She waited many hours for the chance to try again, this time with a gentler, more friendly approach, but the opportunity did not present itself. The long hours waiting for the chance did allow her to take in and analyse her surroundings however. The other members on board the ship did not bother her, with the exception of the Visipian. If he held a grudge against her - and Marga was pretty sure he did - then that was just another problem to add to the increasingly growing list. She'd been careful not to catch his eye so far. The real kicker for Marga though, was that it appeared that she was the only one here against her will as she was the only member of the crew handcuffed. Furthermore, she was the only one without any equipment on her person. If the fact did not irk her so much, she would congratulate the Navy on the quality of their handcuffs. Clearly they weren't taking any chances after her failed escape attempt back at the base. Marga rested her head against the wall and closed her eyes, focusing on twisting her hands and running her fingers over the handcuffs, looking for weaknesses. Without her lock picking and hacking equipment, escaping her constraints would be difficult. Difficult but not impossible. However, there was still the matter of what she would then do. Marga was contemplating her options when the pilot's voice interrupted her thoughts, announcing that they had arrived.</s> <\|message\|>Farvis Kren Farvis opened his eyes, hearing the pilot say something. He'd been meditating since they left for the Lone Star, hoping to calm himself and clear his head for the mission. Unfortunately, the fact that the only way he was getting out of prison was to help uncover the mystery on the deathtrap they were approaching prevented him from fulling calming down. He looked over to the woman sitting beside him. Marga had done some work for him before, acquiring one thousand Antharan eggs for him to hatch and even bringing him a prototype gene assembler that he couldn't get access to otherwise. "Just think, that hunk of junk could barely be sold for scrap if it wasn't famous, but because it is, anyone who got their hands own it could make a fortune selling it to the right people." It would sound like idle conversation to most people, but she was a thief, and he knew she'd get the message. He was in this for the long game. If the Law wanted to make him a criminal, then he'd be one, but he'd complete his life's work one way or the other. He walked up to the pilot. "I doubt this has anything as advanced as a teleporter on it. Can this thing broadcast power?" he asked. Some rescue ships had microwave transmitters that could send up to a few hundred kilowatts a few kilometers away to provide emergency power to derelicts. "I could probably stay conscious for ninety, maybe a hundred seconds with this suit on in space. If you could get me over there, I could attach the receiver and power the docking bay door."</s> <\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name "Sorry buddy," Felix's voices crackled over the 'com. "Best I can offer you is a communications array. Even if you could set up a power link, the shuttle's core barely provides enough power to run our own systems, let alone trying to tap into another ship's as well. Military's not exactly known for extravagance in their designs. Lowest bidder, y'know."</s> <\|message\|>Simon Brewer The soft spoken medical officer, one of the only few people in the transport shuttle not in handcuffs, was busying himself with the Holonet. His employers, the pharmaceuticals corporation known around the galaxy as PharmCo, had sent him this mission dossier in the hopes that he'd be able to field test their newest creation, but currently he was trying to evoke a response from his contacts in the staff. Slow going, out here in deep space, but at least he had a working Holonet connection. With his rifle laid out on his lap, his elbows rested on its smooth plas-steel surface as he tapped and scrolled away, trying to compose an email to his employers updating them on his situation. Then his datapad bleeped and abruptly cut the mail feed he'd been streaming. Well, he had a working Holonet connection. With a grumble he folded up his pad and stowed it in his rig. Stupid thing. Here he was in deep space, trying to get an update to his employers, and the damn thing refused to send it. Oh well. The message was saved and archived on his holomail account. He'd send it later. Simon sighed and stretched and rolled his shoulders upon hearing Felix come over the intercom with the pleasant update that yes, they were here, and no, the Lone Star had no power so they couldn't dock. One of the crew shot a suggestion into the air, the only other human in the crew, upon closer inspection, though he knew that Farvis was no ordinary human; the vitals and bio signs his armour's visor was displaying into his eyes told him all the story he needed, along with the vitals and basic details on every other person in the shuttle. PharmCo's Reactive Armour line was living up to his expectations so far, although he knew the 'reactive' part was yet to be tested. Supposedly the plate armour he wore could react and adapt to protect against any projectile or melee threat thrown at him, from bullets to energy weapons to knives and explosives, but that feature was untested. He was here to test it, mostly anyway. His real reason...lay in his head, something he was unwilling to even think about before they were able to board. Getting back to it, Felix shot down the suggestion, leaving the air open to more ideas on how to get the shuttle, and its passengers, into the Lone Star. Simon was but a doctor, but he had an inkling of an idea. First though, he needed something confirmed. He stood and ambled to the pilot door. "Felix, are the hangar bay doors of the Lone Star armoured? If we had a large enough armament, we could theoretically blow open those doors or a fragile structure next to them to allow us entry."</s> <\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name Tapping on an auxiliary panel Felix quickly brought up the passive scan results coming in from the navigational sensors before flicking his mike back on. "Those look military-grade to me, and all this shuttle's got are some low-range autolasers. I could probably blast through with enough time, but you might need to hold your breath for the last hour or two, 'cos I don't see out air supply lasting that long." 'Well, not your air supply, at least,' He added to himself, absently reaching down to check the personal life support unit fitted into the cockpit module. As he looked back up something on the scan caught his eye. With a wave of his hand Felix activated the active scanner to get a better look at the anomaly before grinning happily. "Got some good news for you though, looks like there's a maintenance airlock not too far stern of the main dock. Should be big enough for a personnel transfer if we can get a lock. That or you could always go for a walk."</s>	<\|message\|>James "JR" Rourke James had been absentmindedly fiddling with his SMG the entire way; disassembling it, re-assembling it, calibrating something here and there, that sort of thing. It helped keep his boredom at bay for the trip, but it didn't work out too well in the end. It became repetitive after about an hour, so he decided to finally properly secure it to his suit and plant his chin on his hand, an expression of pure boredom showing across his face. He began to take note of the others' weapons. Some of them were impressive, others were just typical things he could find pretty much anywhere. Still, the common weapons were common for a reason. He began mentally taking each individual weapon apart, examining their inner components with his mind's eye. That held his interest for a while, until his concentration was broken by a bit of chatter from the pilot. He raised his head from his hand, letting out a sigh as he adjusted himself in his seat. These shuttles definitely didn't have the most comfortable passenger compartments, but what would you expect from military tech? He could see the ship looming outside one of the windows; a massive beast she was indeed. A sleeping giant as one might say. Oh gods, wasn't that a foreboding thought. The thought of what might lie beyond one of the behemoth's airlocks excited James to the point of anxiousness. He didn't so much care about the ship's secrets, more about the thrill. So many rumors about what happened aboard the dreadnought; so many things that could get his adrenaline pumping. He began to wonder about the mission in general, on that point. He took a look at the crew around him and realized it was a very ragtag sort of outfit. No two people came from the same background, it seemed. Some of them were even in handcuffs. The fuck was that about? Weren't they supposed to help? They couldn't very well do that while being bound, so maybe the pilot had the keys or something. Who knew, who cared, James just wanted to get on that ship already. At the mention of an airlock, JR finally spoke up. "Well we've got a point of entry. Let's get onboard already," he said, impatiently.</s>
<\|description\|>James "JR" Rourke Race: Human Appearance: James is a pretty slender guy, standing at 5'10" and weighing 148 lbs. He has fairly attractive features; well-toned muscles, nice mid-length brown hair, green eyes, a shapely chin, and attractive facial features in general. He also looks pretty young, for thirty, and while he may look attractive, he also has a consistent look of annoyance or lack of giving a shit, which tends to repel some people. Personality: In a nutshell, James has a very devil-may-care attitude, mixed in with blunt honesty, sarcasm, and a touch of jaded withdrawal. Skills: -Expert Weapons Engineering -Skilled Mechanics -Skilled Close Quarters Operations -Amateur Hacking Equipment: -YF12 Blaster Pistol: A standard pistol used by many privateers, it functions by concentrating electrons into a plasma-like bolt of energy. It is powered by interchangeable power cells which function like magazines, containing enough power for anywhere between 45 and 55 bolts, depending on the quality of the cell. The YF12 has a fairly low range due to the nature of it's shots, with the bolts typically losing their efficacy between 50 and 60 meters and dissipating at 75 meters. They inflict fairly high damage, are pretty accurate, have low recoil, and a moderate rate of fire. -KA76 Submachine Gun: A somewhat older design, the KA76 functions similar to a blaster, but instead uses physical ammunition consisting of ceramic flechettes containing a plasmoid liquid which is charged in the firing process and converted into pure plasma. The casing contains the charge far better than the YF12, resulting in better range, though it suffers in inflicting damage. It does, however, have a very high rate of fire, decent accuracy, very low recoil, and a magazine capacity of 120 rounds, making it ideal for close quarters. -Weapons Maintenance Kit: "The Leo-tec advanced weapons maintenance kit contains all the tools you'll need to fix any gun, anywhere, anytime. Replacement parts sold separately." -M23 Standard Headset and Uplink: An earpiece/headband which acts as a communicator, as well as relays vital information to the user's eyepiece. Typically used in squads where tactical information may be needed in a fraction of a second. Bio: James was born and raised on Halloran, a cold planet inhabited by several different races. While civilized, the planet was also small and sparsely populated, and thus quite boring. There was never any sort of danger, and James was having none of that shit. He wanted to get out and explore the fringes of known space, and when he reached the age of 17 he got an opportunity to join the Sol Alliance Navy with the guarantee that he would be on an exploration vessel. During training, he became enthralled with the mechanics of modern weaponry. Although he was trained as a CQC specialist to begin with, he was soon switched over to the position of weapons specialist, and within weeks he knew everything about the Alliance's small arms, along with several other weapons built by private manufacturers. When his training was finished, he was placed onboard a light expedition vessel. He and his crew marked several planets for future colonization, encountering all sorts of hostile wildlife, and on one occasion, a band of pirates. After doing this for seven years or so, James began to actually get bored. Even exploring planets seemed to become nothing more than just going through the motions. Land here, shoot anything with teeth the size of your arm, drop some beacons and survey probes, maintain the squad's weapons, extract from the planet, repeat. Maybe it was the idea of procedure that put James off. He wanted more unpredictability, which he got when he left the Navy and became a privateer. He began to help on explorations with random people rather than a government entity, and that helped make things a bit more fun, but it still was basically the same thing as before. Still, it allowed him to build a reputation as someone who could handle himself and was virtually without fear, not to mention he knew his way around a gun more than pretty much anyone else. In his days of exploring, he never went a day without having his curiosity satisfied, but he went nearly every day without any real excitement. When he heard about the appearance of the long-missing Lone Star, and that a crew was being assembled to enter the ship, he was more than interested in checking it out. This time, hopefully, he could satisfy both his curiosity and his need for some adrenaline. Quotes: "What can I say; shit happens." "Hold your horses! Fixing a plasma rifle takes time, and if I'm not careful it can blow us all up." "Well, that's a thing."</s> <\|message\|>Simon Brewer "T minus three and a half minutes, Felix." Simon kept his eyes on the field of floating rocks. They were in his field of view now, a roiling, seething mass of destruction that was tumbling towards them. With the Visipian behind them almost irate with their struggling, they finally came up with a plan. The umbilical would be essential in getting a docking secure, but that would require precision. Something...He knew who to ask. He kept himself in the co-pilot chair, but swivelled to face the interior of the ship. Farvis, was it? Wasn't he a doctor as well? He knew medical practitioners such as himself had a fine degree of motor precision in guiding things to where they were meant to be. As much as he liked having the alien on the controls, his brain told him a two man job would be better. This was a surgical procedure alright, and if no one was going to take charge, he would. "Farvis! You're a doctor, right? Why not get yourself in that airlock, help our friend here guide the umbilical! We need to do this soon or we're all dead meat!" He quickly swivelled back to the viewport. In the time it had taken for him to do all of that, the field of asteroids had grown in size. They had next to no time. Either this team work as a team or everything here would be for - The blue drones at the Star suddenly sprung to life, cutting through the hull section that their bot (Hundred, was it?) was clinging to. Uh oh. That added a wrinkle to the whole surgery. Now they needed a combat specialist out there to take care of the drones if Hundred and the Syndari woman were occupying themselves with helping the crew get in. An easy fix. He spun around again. "Alright, change of plans. Farvis, you man the umbilical monitor, guide it in remotely. You, Visipian whose name escapes me, you take his place in the airlock. You are armed, yes? You're perfect to take care of those blue drones harassing our crew outside. That good?" Once done, he returned his attention to the asteroids. "T minus two minutes."</s> <\|message\|>Mez "There's a lever inside the airlock, on the upper left side of the outer hatch. Yank it down and the umbilical will deploy. You can fine tune it using the monitor just below the lever and the controls beside it. Won't be needing a perfect lock, just one good enough to hold pressure until you get the party aboard." @SimplyJohn "Perfect." Mez replied. He moved to spring into action but the droids' change of movement caught his eye. "Looks like time's about to run out." He stated before moving back into rear bay. Quickly scouring the ship, his eyes fell on a equipment locker towards the end of the bay. He'd need a comm-link headset to be able to communicate with the Gygan outside. Mez crossed the bay in less that five strides and wrenched open the locker door. The following smirk on his face meant he'd found what he was looking for; a powerful shortwave comm-link headset. All he needed now was to cannibalize it for the transmitter and insert it into one of the many sub-ports of his Direct Neural Interface. He could use his body to amplify the transmission range and communicate with Hundred. Before he'd finished thinking of what he wanted to do, Mez was already walking towards the airlock, the transmitter was now sending out radio waves at 200% more power which allowed the waves to be able to cut through space. "Hundred, do you copy? Come in, Hundred. I am going to release the shuttle's umbilical early using the manual override. I need you to ensure a positive lock on with the Lone Star, nothing perfect but enough to pressurize the walkway. We have less than 5 minutes ETA on an asteroid shower which'll mean mission failure if we don't do this now." Mez punched the control panel of the airlock, pressurizing the small room. It took a few seconds but far longer than it needed. Once he was inside, he followed the Pilot's direction. True to his word, the lever was there. Mez pulled it which activated a series of loud clunks and a hissing sound. 'The umbilical must be moving.' He quickly turned his gaze to the monitor and keyed in a few simple commands via the control pad. Like everything else on board the shuttle, the computer systems proved rudimentary. So Mez only had to alter a few sub-routines in order to exact the optimum speed efficiency for the extending walkway.</s> <\|message\|>Hundred Kira Hundred's frown had never left. It certainly didn't change when the ships macrobot accompaniment swarmed out of the arresting airlock. With a thought she impelled the Dust further into the airlocks mechanisms. Ah. There was the problem. She should have checked first. Her comm crackled. She snarled at the pilots castigation. He was right to berate her. She had not performed as she had tacitly implied. Hundred took a moment in the flurry of activity around her person. She examined the Star bots' movement patterns. They may have been upkeep drones, trapped in a process loop, unable to perform their scheduled maintenance due to the faulty door mechanism. No, not faulty, sabotaged. The bots surrounded her, the emitters on their cutting lasers adjusting. Her frown deepened even further. Hostile then. She was more interested in the one maneuvering over to her micro-channel. They had the wherewithal to target her Dust. Curious. Her comm was filled with the beam of another of her mission mates. The Visipian. Hundred did not like the Visipians. The Consortium did not like them either, but she didn't see that as much of a point in their favor. They were dogmatic, fascistic, too much like the Consortium for comfort. But their methods were barbarous. Conquest. War. Wasteful. But most damning of all, they possessed technologies that Gyges had yet to replicate. Divine Energy. A superstitious designation. A weak grip upon the fire whose secrets they alone had discovered. But he had given her a gift. A goal. Redemption. Five minutes. "It will be done in one." Hundred raised her arms, fingers flickering tactile commands. Dust around her compacted and formed, layer upon layer of tightly packed Fullerenes wrapped around each other, growing, hardening, sharpening. From Dust to dagger, little black spikes of graphene, bristling around her in a satellite sphere. She looked around herself at the busy little bots. So large, so few, so primitive. Her hand waved dismissively. Her teeth bared. It was almost a smile. Punching into the closest hostile robots, the spikes split upon intentional faults, fragmenting into flechettes, shredding the interiors of the bots trying to unseat her footing. Striding forwards a second wave of spikes formed to deal with the rest of the offensive constructs. She flexed her right hand, just above her open palm another longer, leaner blade began to form the constructing edge of it's black blade radiating a sharp golden glow. She stepped over the half-melted lip of the plating she was standing on, moving back towards the airlock. Her other hand waved dismissively again, the second set of spikes shot forth to enforce her lethal contempt for the machines that had lost her face. It would be done in the next 47 seconds. She was keeping count.</s> <\|message\|>Sevyn Spades The moment the tiny little bots began firing their lasers, Sevyn fired into the swarm, jumping from target to target. She felt the shuttle beneath her inching every slowly forward as it clumsily tried to align itself with the open airlock. She considered the idea of throwing one of her EMP grenades into the two meter hole, a relatively easy target, but deemed it too risky once the shuttle started extending its umbilical tube. Once the tube started moving, Sevyn moved herself to its lip, still firing at the droids as the silent thump, thump, thump of her magnetic boots causing a dull reverb throughout the umbilical. Meanwhile Jemini tried to make herself useful by calculating the trajectory of the tube and sending the necessary minor adjustments needed to align it with the Lone Star to the shuttle pilot while she took shots at the stationary droids. She chirped and whirred angrily, even beeping once to express her extreme displeasure at having to work with the current shuttle pilot, though the droid couldn't place a value on either Sevyn's or the less-than-adequate shuttle pilot's maneuvering, seeing as how both were equally annoying. Sevyn was edging out on top though, considering she was standing at the lip of tube, ready to snap herself into the tube right before it would attach to the Lone Star instead of staying outside of taking care of all the bots all because of her stupid desire to be the first inside the derelict dreadnought. But then again, why else would she have teamed up with a bunch of ruffians if the rest couldn't handle themselves in a little scrap.</s>	<\|message\|>James "JR" Rourke JR was no less anxious to get on the Star, but the rate at which people seemed to be stepping out was both impressive and astonishing. Aside from the Gygan, it didn't really make much sense for anyone to be going for the ship without having been docked, but at least it made for some entertainment. At least until it seemed as though things were... well, going. He definitely began to get an apprehensive feeling about boarding the ship, though it made him all the more anxious to get onboard and find out why. There was definitely something about that ship. He stood himself up at the mention of them docking with the dreadnought, knowing that it wouldn't take much longer now. He was more than ready to board, though he couldn't help but be distracted by two of his apparent crewmates' bickering. The two of them were either going at each others throats, or organizing their next romantic getaway, or both. It was definitely hard to tell, and he was sure plenty of sarcasm was flying through the shuttle. He couldn't help but chuckle at some of their remarks. The window through the airlock showed their point of entry, a few hundred meters away at this point. The movements of the shuttle were jarring at points, but JR bore through it. It definitely wouldn't be the first time. "Well then, who's ready to party?" he asked, eyes still fixed on the Lone Star's airlock.</s>
<\|description\|>Sevyn Spades Race: Hailing from the planet Solun, a planet host to ammonia based life, the Syndari first established themselves in the galactic community as aggressive imperialists, quickly colonizing nearby planets whether they be settled already or not, terraforming planets to suit their needs. They spread far and wide, subjugating species after species under their iron fists and quickly becoming feared terrors among their galaxy. It was only through a coalition of several galactic civilizations and a coordinated uprising of all their slave species did the Syndari Empire stumble and fall, the entirety of the Syndari people forced to retreat back to Solun. It would be many years before the Syndari dared to venture off planet and recolonize their local solar system, long after the last whispers of their past had faded, and it was only very recently that the Syndari have been reintroduced back into the galaxy, this time as a keen and amiable mercantile race with perhaps not-so-surprisingly elite mercenary forces. The Syndari are a primarily mercantile race quickly becoming some of the most renowned traders throughout the known universe despite having relatively recently joined the galactic community at large. While formally holding no standing army, their interests are primarily protected by Syndari private military contractors, acting as the race's pseudo-military force and regular soldiers of fortune. Solun, their homeworld, lies far beyond the normal lifezones of its twin stars. However, the world has a high pressure greenhouse atmosphere that traps enough heat to support an ammonia-based biochemistry. As a result, the Syndari have to wear high pressure suits and breathers when dealing with other species due to typical nitrogen-oxygen air being poisonous to them, and in the low pressures tolerable to most species Syndari would actually be split apart. An interesting note about the Syndari race is that despite being newcomers to the galactic community, ruins and items reminiscent of ancient Syndari culture have been found all throughout their galaxy, suggesting that the Syndari had been a space faring race in the ancient past. However, little records exist of the time many archaeologists would date this Syndari culture. WARNING: Many Syndari exhibit signs of mild socio- or psychopathy in comparison to many other galactic species. However they are commonly devoid of the aggressive or irresponsible traits of the antisocial personality disorder. Appearance: Equipment: * Ranged Weapon The Synapse Armaments 679 Blaster Rifle is the embodiment of the trope "if it ain't broke, don't fix it." Mechanically very similar to their previous Model 673 and is in essence just a minor upgrade to the rifle, the 679 boasts a greater charge capacity with a more efficient rechargeable battery pack. The only other difference was that the gun's design has been streamlined and focused on creating a professional look for the professional soldier. Otherwise the weapon still packs the same, deadly punch of its predecessor. * Uses high powered and dense energy beams to melt through flesh and armor alike * 150 round energy pack * Effective range of far enough to kill you * Sidearm The Synapse Armament 574 plasma weapon favors power over control; saying it has a bit of a recoil is an understatement. This made the 574 the weapon of choice for thugs, pirates, and other persons of unsavory natures due to it's high firepower and intimidation factor when the weapon fires. * Fires bolts of superheated plasma that can burn through two inches of solid titanium alloy * Uses heatsinks to provide quick cooldown of weapon * Other One of Emtek's first forays into the robotics field, the original Ardie proved to be popular with a wide number of people as it saw use with government armies to bounty hunters to everything that lied in between. The Mark I has since been phased out by later Mark II and III models, but there are a few that still float around, providing testament to the Mark I's reliable nature. * Equipped with a simple AI focused in scouting and reconnaissance [MODIFIED TO INCLUDE STATE OF THE ART HACKING AND TRANSLATION FUNCTIONS] * Video feed can be transmitted to over a range of 1000km without the use of satellites [MODIFIED TO BE ABLE TO TRANSMIT UP TO 9000KM] * Equipped with 4m self defense shock probe [MODIFIED TO BE RETROFITTED WITH 2 HANDGUNS OR ITEMS OF EQUIVALENT SIZE] * [INSTALLED WITH STATE OF THE ART TRANSLATION SOFTWARE / ERROR: FAILURE TO COMPLY FOLLOWING COMMAND "UNINSTALL FOUL LANGUAGE SUBROUTINE"] * [MODIFIED TO BE ABLE TO RECEIVE AND TRANSMIT ANY COMMUNICATION FREQUENCIES] * [MODIFIED WITH STATE OF THE ART STEALTH SYSTEMS] * Blast radius of 30m * Releases an explosion of superheated plasma * Lethal radius of 10m; Wounding radius of 12m Bio: Born into the average mercantile family on Solun, Sevyn lived a fairly average life. She grew up, went to school, and earned an unrecorded juvenile streak miles wide. However, she had an unusually keen interest in spacecrafts of all shapes and sizes having been introduced to the racing scene while still in the early stages of her life and could often be found spectating flying crafts of all shapes and sizes when she wasn't about mucking up trouble. It wasn't long before she got into the scene itself. Like many she started the lowest of the low, a pilot jockey that was willing to get into flying bucket if only to feel the roar of an engine beneath her and the simple rush of being able to fly. It was also her only real escape once her parents disowned her and left the young Syndari to her own devices after too many years of having to harbor what they perceived as a criminal under their household. Luckily, Sevyn proved herself to be more than just a simple jockey by winning nearly every race that she competed in, creating a legend for herself in the underground circuit. Such great fame usually also came with great money, which she used to further herself toward becoming a ship engineer and an actual certified spacecraft pilot. Yet the Syndari could not tear herself away from the racing scene which would unfortunately lead to a series of events where she would steal a prominent mercenary captain's prized fighter craft, get caught, and then by law become the property of said mercenary captain which were arguably the worst years of her life. Although mainly because there was this one time where the captain forced Sevyn to lick a toilet clean and becoming bedridden for days afterwards. Otherwise if was a complete blast of time as the mercenary captain had given the Syndari a brief two hour crash course on how to aim a gun and shoot it without killing herself before dropping her off in the middle of the mission with the rest of his merry band of mercenaries, acting as only mere cannon fodder alongside all the other servants the mercenary band had happened to accrue over the years. Amazingly, Sevyn didn't die at the end of the first month of her servitude, which was reason enough for the mercenary captain to prematurely end her lifelong sentence and recruit her into his company of killers-for-hire. She could not forget her love for ship however, and since no one in the mercenary band would ever trust her piloting anything ever again due to a second incident with a prized cruiser of a different mercenary captain, she resigned herself to endlessly studying countless ship manuals and staying up late nights reading ghost stories of various spacecraft lost to the depths of space forever. So naturally, when she heard one of these ghost ships, the Lone Star, had come back from whatever empty grave it had gone to, she knew she had to board it and discover all its secrets. Unfortunately, she knew the mercenary band would never entertain the idea of having to compete with almost literally millions if not billions of people just for the chance to board some dead, deadly, derelict dreadnought. So she did the most logical thing, which was to steal a third mercenary captain's prized corvette (admittedly a little less ambitious than usual), rush off to the nearest spaceport, ring up the nearest United Alliance Navy base and wait for their inevitable reply of yes. Skills: * Fantasticly reckless pilot * Fantastic mechanical engineer * Skilled marksman Non-standard Abilities: * The absolute best at hijacking prized spacecraft Quote: "Okay, I get that you're angry and that I completely ruined your ship, but MAN weren't we going so awesomely fast?"</s> <\|message\|>Mez "There's a lever inside the airlock, on the upper left side of the outer hatch. Yank it down and the umbilical will deploy. You can fine tune it using the monitor just below the lever and the controls beside it. Won't be needing a perfect lock, just one good enough to hold pressure until you get the party aboard." @SimplyJohn "Perfect." Mez replied. He moved to spring into action but the droids' change of movement caught his eye. "Looks like time's about to run out." He stated before moving back into rear bay. Quickly scouring the ship, his eyes fell on a equipment locker towards the end of the bay. He'd need a comm-link headset to be able to communicate with the Gygan outside. Mez crossed the bay in less that five strides and wrenched open the locker door. The following smirk on his face meant he'd found what he was looking for; a powerful shortwave comm-link headset. All he needed now was to cannibalize it for the transmitter and insert it into one of the many sub-ports of his Direct Neural Interface. He could use his body to amplify the transmission range and communicate with Hundred. Before he'd finished thinking of what he wanted to do, Mez was already walking towards the airlock, the transmitter was now sending out radio waves at 200% more power which allowed the waves to be able to cut through space. "Hundred, do you copy? Come in, Hundred. I am going to release the shuttle's umbilical early using the manual override. I need you to ensure a positive lock on with the Lone Star, nothing perfect but enough to pressurize the walkway. We have less than 5 minutes ETA on an asteroid shower which'll mean mission failure if we don't do this now." Mez punched the control panel of the airlock, pressurizing the small room. It took a few seconds but far longer than it needed. Once he was inside, he followed the Pilot's direction. True to his word, the lever was there. Mez pulled it which activated a series of loud clunks and a hissing sound. 'The umbilical must be moving.' He quickly turned his gaze to the monitor and keyed in a few simple commands via the control pad. Like everything else on board the shuttle, the computer systems proved rudimentary. So Mez only had to alter a few sub-routines in order to exact the optimum speed efficiency for the extending walkway.</s> <\|message\|>Hundred Kira Hundred's frown had never left. It certainly didn't change when the ships macrobot accompaniment swarmed out of the arresting airlock. With a thought she impelled the Dust further into the airlocks mechanisms. Ah. There was the problem. She should have checked first. Her comm crackled. She snarled at the pilots castigation. He was right to berate her. She had not performed as she had tacitly implied. Hundred took a moment in the flurry of activity around her person. She examined the Star bots' movement patterns. They may have been upkeep drones, trapped in a process loop, unable to perform their scheduled maintenance due to the faulty door mechanism. No, not faulty, sabotaged. The bots surrounded her, the emitters on their cutting lasers adjusting. Her frown deepened even further. Hostile then. She was more interested in the one maneuvering over to her micro-channel. They had the wherewithal to target her Dust. Curious. Her comm was filled with the beam of another of her mission mates. The Visipian. Hundred did not like the Visipians. The Consortium did not like them either, but she didn't see that as much of a point in their favor. They were dogmatic, fascistic, too much like the Consortium for comfort. But their methods were barbarous. Conquest. War. Wasteful. But most damning of all, they possessed technologies that Gyges had yet to replicate. Divine Energy. A superstitious designation. A weak grip upon the fire whose secrets they alone had discovered. But he had given her a gift. A goal. Redemption. Five minutes. "It will be done in one." Hundred raised her arms, fingers flickering tactile commands. Dust around her compacted and formed, layer upon layer of tightly packed Fullerenes wrapped around each other, growing, hardening, sharpening. From Dust to dagger, little black spikes of graphene, bristling around her in a satellite sphere. She looked around herself at the busy little bots. So large, so few, so primitive. Her hand waved dismissively. Her teeth bared. It was almost a smile. Punching into the closest hostile robots, the spikes split upon intentional faults, fragmenting into flechettes, shredding the interiors of the bots trying to unseat her footing. Striding forwards a second wave of spikes formed to deal with the rest of the offensive constructs. She flexed her right hand, just above her open palm another longer, leaner blade began to form the constructing edge of it's black blade radiating a sharp golden glow. She stepped over the half-melted lip of the plating she was standing on, moving back towards the airlock. Her other hand waved dismissively again, the second set of spikes shot forth to enforce her lethal contempt for the machines that had lost her face. It would be done in the next 47 seconds. She was keeping count.</s>	<\|message\|>Sevyn Spades The moment the tiny little bots began firing their lasers, Sevyn fired into the swarm, jumping from target to target. She felt the shuttle beneath her inching every slowly forward as it clumsily tried to align itself with the open airlock. She considered the idea of throwing one of her EMP grenades into the two meter hole, a relatively easy target, but deemed it too risky once the shuttle started extending its umbilical tube. Once the tube started moving, Sevyn moved herself to its lip, still firing at the droids as the silent thump, thump, thump of her magnetic boots causing a dull reverb throughout the umbilical. Meanwhile Jemini tried to make herself useful by calculating the trajectory of the tube and sending the necessary minor adjustments needed to align it with the Lone Star to the shuttle pilot while she took shots at the stationary droids. She chirped and whirred angrily, even beeping once to express her extreme displeasure at having to work with the current shuttle pilot, though the droid couldn't place a value on either Sevyn's or the less-than-adequate shuttle pilot's maneuvering, seeing as how both were equally annoying. Sevyn was edging out on top though, considering she was standing at the lip of tube, ready to snap herself into the tube right before it would attach to the Lone Star instead of staying outside of taking care of all the bots all because of her stupid desire to be the first inside the derelict dreadnought. But then again, why else would she have teamed up with a bunch of ruffians if the rest couldn't handle themselves in a little scrap.</s>
<\|description\|>Sevyn Spades Race: Hailing from the planet Solun, a planet host to ammonia based life, the Syndari first established themselves in the galactic community as aggressive imperialists, quickly colonizing nearby planets whether they be settled already or not, terraforming planets to suit their needs. They spread far and wide, subjugating species after species under their iron fists and quickly becoming feared terrors among their galaxy. It was only through a coalition of several galactic civilizations and a coordinated uprising of all their slave species did the Syndari Empire stumble and fall, the entirety of the Syndari people forced to retreat back to Solun. It would be many years before the Syndari dared to venture off planet and recolonize their local solar system, long after the last whispers of their past had faded, and it was only very recently that the Syndari have been reintroduced back into the galaxy, this time as a keen and amiable mercantile race with perhaps not-so-surprisingly elite mercenary forces. The Syndari are a primarily mercantile race quickly becoming some of the most renowned traders throughout the known universe despite having relatively recently joined the galactic community at large. While formally holding no standing army, their interests are primarily protected by Syndari private military contractors, acting as the race's pseudo-military force and regular soldiers of fortune. Solun, their homeworld, lies far beyond the normal lifezones of its twin stars. However, the world has a high pressure greenhouse atmosphere that traps enough heat to support an ammonia-based biochemistry. As a result, the Syndari have to wear high pressure suits and breathers when dealing with other species due to typical nitrogen-oxygen air being poisonous to them, and in the low pressures tolerable to most species Syndari would actually be split apart. An interesting note about the Syndari race is that despite being newcomers to the galactic community, ruins and items reminiscent of ancient Syndari culture have been found all throughout their galaxy, suggesting that the Syndari had been a space faring race in the ancient past. However, little records exist of the time many archaeologists would date this Syndari culture. WARNING: Many Syndari exhibit signs of mild socio- or psychopathy in comparison to many other galactic species. However they are commonly devoid of the aggressive or irresponsible traits of the antisocial personality disorder. Appearance: Equipment: * Ranged Weapon The Synapse Armaments 679 Blaster Rifle is the embodiment of the trope "if it ain't broke, don't fix it." Mechanically very similar to their previous Model 673 and is in essence just a minor upgrade to the rifle, the 679 boasts a greater charge capacity with a more efficient rechargeable battery pack. The only other difference was that the gun's design has been streamlined and focused on creating a professional look for the professional soldier. Otherwise the weapon still packs the same, deadly punch of its predecessor. * Uses high powered and dense energy beams to melt through flesh and armor alike * 150 round energy pack * Effective range of far enough to kill you * Sidearm The Synapse Armament 574 plasma weapon favors power over control; saying it has a bit of a recoil is an understatement. This made the 574 the weapon of choice for thugs, pirates, and other persons of unsavory natures due to it's high firepower and intimidation factor when the weapon fires. * Fires bolts of superheated plasma that can burn through two inches of solid titanium alloy * Uses heatsinks to provide quick cooldown of weapon * Other One of Emtek's first forays into the robotics field, the original Ardie proved to be popular with a wide number of people as it saw use with government armies to bounty hunters to everything that lied in between. The Mark I has since been phased out by later Mark II and III models, but there are a few that still float around, providing testament to the Mark I's reliable nature. * Equipped with a simple AI focused in scouting and reconnaissance [MODIFIED TO INCLUDE STATE OF THE ART HACKING AND TRANSLATION FUNCTIONS] * Video feed can be transmitted to over a range of 1000km without the use of satellites [MODIFIED TO BE ABLE TO TRANSMIT UP TO 9000KM] * Equipped with 4m self defense shock probe [MODIFIED TO BE RETROFITTED WITH 2 HANDGUNS OR ITEMS OF EQUIVALENT SIZE] * [INSTALLED WITH STATE OF THE ART TRANSLATION SOFTWARE / ERROR: FAILURE TO COMPLY FOLLOWING COMMAND "UNINSTALL FOUL LANGUAGE SUBROUTINE"] * [MODIFIED TO BE ABLE TO RECEIVE AND TRANSMIT ANY COMMUNICATION FREQUENCIES] * [MODIFIED WITH STATE OF THE ART STEALTH SYSTEMS] * Blast radius of 30m * Releases an explosion of superheated plasma * Lethal radius of 10m; Wounding radius of 12m Bio: Born into the average mercantile family on Solun, Sevyn lived a fairly average life. She grew up, went to school, and earned an unrecorded juvenile streak miles wide. However, she had an unusually keen interest in spacecrafts of all shapes and sizes having been introduced to the racing scene while still in the early stages of her life and could often be found spectating flying crafts of all shapes and sizes when she wasn't about mucking up trouble. It wasn't long before she got into the scene itself. Like many she started the lowest of the low, a pilot jockey that was willing to get into flying bucket if only to feel the roar of an engine beneath her and the simple rush of being able to fly. It was also her only real escape once her parents disowned her and left the young Syndari to her own devices after too many years of having to harbor what they perceived as a criminal under their household. Luckily, Sevyn proved herself to be more than just a simple jockey by winning nearly every race that she competed in, creating a legend for herself in the underground circuit. Such great fame usually also came with great money, which she used to further herself toward becoming a ship engineer and an actual certified spacecraft pilot. Yet the Syndari could not tear herself away from the racing scene which would unfortunately lead to a series of events where she would steal a prominent mercenary captain's prized fighter craft, get caught, and then by law become the property of said mercenary captain which were arguably the worst years of her life. Although mainly because there was this one time where the captain forced Sevyn to lick a toilet clean and becoming bedridden for days afterwards. Otherwise if was a complete blast of time as the mercenary captain had given the Syndari a brief two hour crash course on how to aim a gun and shoot it without killing herself before dropping her off in the middle of the mission with the rest of his merry band of mercenaries, acting as only mere cannon fodder alongside all the other servants the mercenary band had happened to accrue over the years. Amazingly, Sevyn didn't die at the end of the first month of her servitude, which was reason enough for the mercenary captain to prematurely end her lifelong sentence and recruit her into his company of killers-for-hire. She could not forget her love for ship however, and since no one in the mercenary band would ever trust her piloting anything ever again due to a second incident with a prized cruiser of a different mercenary captain, she resigned herself to endlessly studying countless ship manuals and staying up late nights reading ghost stories of various spacecraft lost to the depths of space forever. So naturally, when she heard one of these ghost ships, the Lone Star, had come back from whatever empty grave it had gone to, she knew she had to board it and discover all its secrets. Unfortunately, she knew the mercenary band would never entertain the idea of having to compete with almost literally millions if not billions of people just for the chance to board some dead, deadly, derelict dreadnought. So she did the most logical thing, which was to steal a third mercenary captain's prized corvette (admittedly a little less ambitious than usual), rush off to the nearest spaceport, ring up the nearest United Alliance Navy base and wait for their inevitable reply of yes. Skills: * Fantasticly reckless pilot * Fantastic mechanical engineer * Skilled marksman Non-standard Abilities: * The absolute best at hijacking prized spacecraft Quote: "Okay, I get that you're angry and that I completely ruined your ship, but MAN weren't we going so awesomely fast?"</s> <\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name The sudden shift in air pressure sent a wave of fetid, stale gas down the companionway as Mez yanked the airlock door open, and a heavy thunking sound could be heard from the inner hatch as some ancient mechanical safety feature quickly sealed the rest of the ship off from the breach, preventing any more air from escaping.</s> <\|message\|>Simon Brewer "Well I guess we're in. Quickly now, the asteroid field is coming." Simon nodded in appreciation as Mez swiftly handled the issue of the door not opening. Superheated plasma definitely ate through metal, no matter how reinforced it was. He simply followed the Visipian in, his visor light shining a bright red cross on the floor and walls wherever he looked. It wasn't particularly bright; without power, probably not even emergency power judging from how long it'd been gone, the Lone Star's interior was completely pitch black, save for the light streaming in through the open airlock and whatever glowy pieces of equipment the team had. It was quiet, too quiet, but here he was: a galaxy first, the first team to ever set foot on the Lone Star ever since it disappeared a decade ago. If they weren't on such a clandestine mission, he was sure that the whole thing would've been covered by news casters all over the sector, if not the whole system. This was the sort of thing that corporations won and lost money over, that built fortunes or lost them…or something absurdly profound like that. All Simon had in mind was his mission. Simon extended an arm and opened his hand, exposing the scanners built into the palm and fingers of his armour. Time to get a scope on what they were going to be dealing with. "System, full environment scan. Optics, visual scan, identify key facilities." With a soft bleep his armour got to working out their surroundings. A faint blue beam shot forth from his palm as he swept his hand slowly back and forth around the whole docking bay area, trying to take in as much information as he could, while his optics scanned and updated his heads-up display with key details; doors leading to unknown areas, potential hazards, along with any outstanding features within the bay that might've been of interest. The micro fans on his chest plate whirred softly away as they took in sample particulates from the air for sampling, while he panned his vision slowly across the entire bay, his optics scanning each nook and cranny, highlighting whatever was of interest in a pale blue outline, with details on what they were or where they led, if what was highlighted was a door. The full analysis took only a few seconds, and soon he had his samples taken and visual references gathered. Soon his armour would finish the physical analysis and it would give him the most important data he needed: could they breathe in here?</s>	<\|message\|>Sevyn Spades It was a conundrum. How to open a door without the door handle. Or in this case an impossibly heavy and impossibly thick airlock that happened to have its wheel knocked off, either by the robots or hurtling debris. Sevyn could plug Jemini into the wheel socket and use the bot at a wheel, but when brought up to the drone the Syndarin was answered by a rapid succession of high pitched beeps and whirrs, followed by attempted mutilation by blowtorch. That meant that the plan was a go. Before Sevyn even had the chance to reach over for the drone however, a barrage of plasma fire splashed against the door, melting away the joints of the airlock. Which meant someone has shot at the Lone Star The Syndarin could only stare in horror, locking her magnetic boots reflexively against the sudden decompression. Luckily, that didn't happen, but the fetid stench coming from inside seemed to more than make up for it. Curious, as that meant there was a working atmosphere inside the ship, which meant that some power had to be operational which shouldn't have surprised Sevyn, really. Many ships were more than capable of running ten or more years without having to dock at any spaceport, provided they passed by the occasional gas giant every so often. Sure, minor systems would have broken down, but the ship itself would still have kept chugging. But still, someone shot the Lone Star. That also meant that whatever scanners the United Alliance Navy had used to scan the ship had either been tampered, damaged, or jammed somehow. Sevyn gave them all an almost equal split chance of probability, with extra points going toward jammed. It was the Vespian. But that was a discussion for another time because if the ship had power, that meant main protocols and subroutines were running, which meant an automatic bulkhead lockdown of their immediate surrounding section. While they certainly could blow through each and every one of them, the bulkheads would keep on shutting down and their progressed would be slowed immeasurably. Not to mention he shot at the Lone Star. Sevyn made her frustration known by ignoring everything the smug Vespian said to her, putting a hand to his helmet providing a direct communications channel and screamed, "WHAT. HAVE. YOU. DONE." The Syndarin stormed off angrily and hurriedly, pushing past the medic man and with the help of Jemini, began working on unlocking the inner door before the umbilical detached and the laws of pressure would forcibly remove everyone far, far away from the Lone Star and presumably into the then-onrushing asteroids. All without blowing the inner airlock to absolute shit, of course.</s>
<\|description\|>Mez Age: 28 Race: Visipian - The Visipian race, otherwise known as The Silent Empire, are primarily a Religious-Extremist race, lead by a Stratocratic Government of Cybernetically Augmented Beings, who are commonly referred to as the Eternal Lords. Their sole mission as an Empire is to convert all other beings of the Universe to live under the rule and religious guidance of their dormant deity; The AllHeart. To achieve this mission, the Government, supported heavily by the entire population, impose a completely militarian lifestyle upon all beings within the Empire's control. Through this tradition, spanning thousands of years, the Empire has evolved into an Advanced Military Power. It is by utilizing this Military Power as well as the Divine Energy Source of Jurichara (Mantra), granted to them by The AllHeart, that they have resolved to converting the Universe to follow their One True God. Failure to submit to The AllHeart's rule will result in Conversion of the rebellious nation; A painful disintegration process that converts matter into Jurichara. Crimes: Desertion, Political/Civilian Assassination, Intergalactic Subterfuge, Sabotage, Trespassing & Terrorism. Personality: Confident. Egotistic. Sarcastic. Calculating. Anarchist. Prideful. Mildly Xenophobic. Mez is a law unto himself, he follows no rules or laws, no moral or ethical guidelines and bends the knee to no one. At least, not any more. He is confident in his abilities and hires himself out more to constantly test them, than as a way of earning money. During his missions, he constantly belittles people or systems that are below his skill level. If he can get passed it with ease then it is no more than a trivial matter and not really worth his time. Despite being this way, however, he is loyal to the mission and will do everything in his power to see that it is completed with success. Skills: - Expert Infiltration Specialist - Expert Small Arms & Weapons Proficiency - Skilled Computer-Based Systems Engineer - Proficient Acrobat - Experienced Hand-to-Hand Combatant Non-standard Abilities: Shadowstep: Invoking the divine energy of Jurichara, given to every Visipian by The AllHeart, Mez may at will, change into a smoke-like shadow form to camouflage himself. In this state, Mez is extremely hard to spot. After around two minutes, his form begins to solidify where he starts to become visible once again. Cybernetically Augmented: Every Visipian undergoes cybernetic augmentation from birth to enhance their physical abilities and ensure a legitimate system of control. Aside from enhancements to bone structure, muscle tissue and vital organs, which improve their physical strength, speed and durability, the Visipians are fitted with a Direct Neural Interface which allows them to insert their minds into machine software or, more intrusively, receive software that may control their minds. Whilst the majority of the population do not require these measures, when the DNI's are implanted, a sleeper software is downloaded into the receiver's brain that, upon activation, can render that person completely under the control of the software owner. Which, in this case, happens to be the Visipian Government. Equipment: Rasgrid's Retribution: Dual Mantra-Infused Energy Pistols designed to recycle and compress latent Jurichara Energy that lingers throughout the cosmos, then forcefully expel the heated energy through a reinforced pistol-based mechanism which fires the energy as super-heated projectiles. These are Mez's mainstay weapons. He reaches for these first before anything else and utilizes them expertly and efficiently. They were awarded to him for his outstanding service during his time as a Visipian citizen. The pistols each possess their own name. One being Osebon and the other being Ahael. Xerxes' Silence: A singular 10-inch curved combat blade. The blade is forged from Visipian Steel, a highly versatile material that is renown for its incredible cutting ability. It's name comes from the unnatural property is possesses. The blade, when slicing through any material, doesn't make a sound. This property makes it the perfect weapon for any assassin. Mez was gifted this by the Eternal Lord Xerxes himself for his constant bravery and unparalleled success during his time as a Visipian citizen. Rosenthal's Blessing: This is less of a singular object and more of a series of upgrades performed on his standard issue Cybernetic Augmentations. The Eternal Lord Rosenthal oversaw the upgrade procedure personally, which resulted in Mez receiving a noticeable boost in his cybernetic abilities as well as the addition of the highly-coveted Jurichara Energy Shielding. With only two other Visipians receiving this blessing before him, Mez was vaulted into Visipian knighthood. The shield itself protects the user much like a power suit would with the exception that it remains non-visible until the need for it arises. While it may certainly stop series of bullets or energy shots from small arms fire, it would surely dissipate from a high-powered rifle shot, although the user would remain mostly unharmed during dissipation. In this event, the user will need to enter a deep state of meditation to gather enough Jurichara to re-power to shielding. Bio: Born as the son of a traitor, Mez was practically abandoned as a child after both of his parents were executed for treason. He was doomed to spend his life in a juvenile camp, destined to grow up being the lowest class of citizen within The Silent Empire. However, Xerxes, one of the Eternal Lords, took pity on him and ordered Mez to be relocated to his private estate. Xerxes would raise him as his own son. Mez grew well and, under the tutelage of an Eternal Lord, he excelled through the ranks of the military with ease. By the time he was 16, Mez was transferred to the Elite Forces section of the Visipian military specifically joining as a member of the V.I.R.U.S. Squads (Vacuum Insertion Raid Under Siege). This raid is a Ship-Boarding battle tactic. Each soldier is projected via an Insertion Pod, usually from a battleship or larger-class ship and are aimed towards an enemy spacecraft. The pods are controlled mainly by automated systems but also provide a manual override for the soldier inside to control, once the pod reaches the opposition's ship, it begins to latch itself onto the hull and proceeds to burn its way through the armour plating, effectively creating its own docking station. Whilst burning through the hull, the pod secretes an organic membrane that seals the breach, preventing the vacuum of space from tearing the ship apart. When the pod has burnt through to the inside of the ship, the front of the pod will open, allowing the person inside to exit onto the enemy ship. From there the Elite Forces soldier can proceed to exact any mission objectives they have been given, ranging from sabotaging weapon systems and engines, to complete capture of the enemy vessel. Mez proved himself repeatedly on each mission and eventually his name started to become well known. The son of the Eternal Lord Xerxes was fast becoming a hero within the Visipian ranks. At the age of 21, Mez was honoured by the Commander of the Visipian Fleet & General of all Military Operations; The Eternal Lord Rasgrid. She bestowed upon him her personal energy pistols and issued him with the new rank of Warmaster. With this new rank came the opportunity and the honour of new and dangerous missions. These missions typically consisted of Assassinations, Sabotage and the retrieval of highly sensitive information by any means. It was after the success of his first mission, the assassination of a decorated military general on board a capital-class warship, that Xerxes gifted him with a specially made blade to assist him in his future missions. Up until he was the age of 25, Mez's life had been an unexpected story of success. He had attained the highest, most revered rank that the Visipian military had to offer. He was a Champion of Visipia. His deeds were legendary, there were statues raised on Planet Visipia, the Homeworld of The Silent Empire, in his honour. The population adored him and he adored them. For Mez, he could think of no higher honour than to be a Champion of his people. The Eternal Lords, however, had one last blessing. They were going to grant him a Lordship. He was to become the thirteenth member of The Eternal Lords and live the rest of his life as as a King. But it wasn't to be. Merely days before his inauguration, Xerxes revealed the truth about his real parents and how he had come to live such a fortunate life. When he heard the news, Mez was devastated. His entire life, everything he had achieved had been a lie. At first he was too shocked to even think, let alone speak. But soon anger began to rise within him and it quickly turned to rage. Before he knew it, Mez was acting without thought. He struck his adopted father down, the resulting noise alerted the honour guards outside of his quarters who saw Mez standing over the injured Eternal Lord. Immediately, the alarm was sounded and the warrant for Mez's arrest announced. He was wanted for the attempted murder of an Eternal Lord and Treason against The Silent Empire. He escaped capture by hijacking Xerxes' personal ship and warp-jumping to the edge of Visipian space. Once he had reached the outer edges of his people's territory, he set a course for the farthest side of the galaxy and put himself into cryosleep. When he awoke, he had arrived at a bandit-owned outpost where he began his life as a mercenary for hire. Quote: "I have one rule: No questions. 'Cause as far as you or anyone else are concerned, I'm just a guy who gets shit done. And I'm pretty fucking good at it too...make sure you tell 'em that bit."</s> <\|message\|>James "JR" Rourke JR was no less anxious to get on the Star, but the rate at which people seemed to be stepping out was both impressive and astonishing. Aside from the Gygan, it didn't really make much sense for anyone to be going for the ship without having been docked, but at least it made for some entertainment. At least until it seemed as though things were... well, going. He definitely began to get an apprehensive feeling about boarding the ship, though it made him all the more anxious to get onboard and find out why. There was definitely something about that ship. He stood himself up at the mention of them docking with the dreadnought, knowing that it wouldn't take much longer now. He was more than ready to board, though he couldn't help but be distracted by two of his apparent crewmates' bickering. The two of them were either going at each others throats, or organizing their next romantic getaway, or both. It was definitely hard to tell, and he was sure plenty of sarcasm was flying through the shuttle. He couldn't help but chuckle at some of their remarks. The window through the airlock showed their point of entry, a few hundred meters away at this point. The movements of the shuttle were jarring at points, but JR bore through it. It definitely wouldn't be the first time. "Well then, who's ready to party?" he asked, eyes still fixed on the Lone Star's airlock.</s> <\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name "Watch out, we're incoming!" Felix screamed into the radio as the shuttle drew closer to the dreadnought, its thruster fire swelling across the ancient plating, burning away a few of the scurrying droids as they finished cutting into the hull plating. They seemed unconcerned with their dwindling numbers as both Sevyn and Hundred targeted their colleagues, instead setting into the damaged innards of the ship's docking mechanism with a single-minded devotion. The spinning hull fragment spun off into the cold darkness of space, drifting passed the shuttle's viewports with an almost serene grace. A groaning shriek of twisting metal echoed inside the shuttle's compartments as the umbilical made contact with the Lone Star's hull, scraping a couple of inches before the magnetic clamps managed to lock into place on the ancient plating. The placement wasn't ideal with the maintenance hatch a little off-centre, but it was a good solid lock which would be more than sufficient for the party to board. "You guys had better be going," Felix called through the 'com as his fingers danced a grim fandango across the thruster controls. "That asteroid belt's coming up fast."</s> <\|message\|>Simon Brewer "T minus one minute and closing!" That was the last thing that escaped Simon's mouth before several tons of space-grade steel plowed straight into the Star's hull. The screech was ear splitting, but after all was done, the umbilical was locked firmly in place by the magnetic clamps. Felix had done his job, now it was time for them to do theirs. Simon stood, unclipped a slightly bent piece of plas-steel from his chest plate and bolted it into place on the back of his neck guard. The folded piece of equipment powered up and unfolded with a rhythmic whirring and clicking, extending itself up over his head and around his ears, the helmet slowly forming itself in place. The last thing to form itself was the faceplate, which he left up while he excited the cockpit, not without giving Felix a pat on the shoulder. "Good job Felix, thank you. We'll take it from here, you busy yourself with getting out of the way of those rocks." Without waiting for anyone else he booked it from the cockpit, grabbing his rifle from the bench as he strode towards the shuttle's airlock. He pushed his way ("excuse me sorry") past the Visipian, Mez, and tapped the airlock control. He turned back to the remaining crew still within the ship, a grimace on his face. "Colleagues, we have to leave, now." He nodded his head and his faceplate slid down and snapped into place, the viewports of the stark white helmet lighting up in a crimson red cross. "Otherwise we all perish."</s> <\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name The shuttle airlock quickly cycled open. With the sealed unbilical on the far side the system knew not to waste time decompressing the chamber and Simon found himself looking down the passage towards where Sevyn waited for him.</s>	<\|message\|>Mez Mez felt the shuttle jolt as the umbilical finally connected to the dreadnought, it wasn't perfect, just as Felix had said, but it would do the job. "We have a solid connection on the umbilical tube." He began radioing to the Gygan. "Keep those things away from the hatch whilst we open her up. You can follow in behind us once the shuttle disconnects from the ship." He moved to open the airlock and enter the walkway but was pushed aside by someone from behind. That someone was adorned in a brilliantly white battle-suit, or so it looked. His enhanced sense of smell informed him that the person was Human. A fact confirmed when the being turned to face him and the others still on board the shuttle. It was the co-pilot. "Why the rush, Human? Scared you're going to be left behind?" He said, a feral tone taking place in his voice. "Well you should be, because if you push past me again, I'll see to it that you never set another foot off of that ship." He nodded in the direction of the Lone Star then glowered at the man. A look of disgust overcame him, their stench was repulsive. Humans were commonly thought of as sacks of slowly decaying meat. Good for nothing except sating the hunger of a Helkite back on Visipia. Though they were somewhat intelligent, their physical forms were weak and easily broken, rendering them useless when compared against him.</s>
<\|description\|>Lucatiel "Luca" St.Dragoon Age: 20 Gender: Female Appearance (anime): History: Lucatiel had come from a long line of Service Members, most whom became part of the Scout Regiment. The only one who was different was her mother: She actually had the skills to join the Military Police. And she did, but not because she feared the Titans; it was mostly due to Lucatiel, who was currently in her mother around the time she had finished her time training. Lucatiel's mother chose to to join the Military Police for the benefits, knowing that she'd need to raise Lucatiel while her father continued his work in the Scout Regiment. Lucatiel was still a trainee when the Colossal Titan attacked and the wall was breached. Her father died during the defense, while Lucatiel was forced to stay back with her mother. She hated what was happening: to see her city getting torn apart by those monsters. Lucatiel's mother didn't take it any better and wanted to fight, however she had orders to stay within the wall. They both watched helplessly as the titans ravaged their homes. Once it was all over, Lucatiel made a promise to her mother: To avenge their father, and to change the city so that people like her mother could fight for her homeland for once, instead of just watching in helpless horror as others die on their behalf. Shortly after the attack Lucatiel graduated from the training Academy, a fire burning in her heart to put an end to the monsters that keep threatening her home and their lives. She joined the Scout Regiment with the hopes of exploring the world outside the wall and discovering some way to put an end to all of this. Personality: Lucatiel was always a strong-willed and forceful person. She can be down right intimidating, as she fears little, not those in authority, not even those who outclass her. She makes her beliefs known and her puts her issues upfront. It's not that she's rebellious however: She can follow orders and can put a lot of faith into others. Lucatiel understands the need to take risks and even sacrifice one's self, and while she's in no hurry to commit suicide, she's come to terms that she'll likely die in the line of duty. She has almost reckless abandonment for her own life, which would get her killed if her skills can't save her. Lucatiel hates boasting and lying, and someone who does either will earn her ire quite easily. She would challenge them, violently, to figure out the truth in their words. Squad: Scout Regiment Titan Kills/Assists: None so far, though she did once slap a titan with a sea bass!</s> <\|message\|>Bachus Gregoravic Levi Cassandra's gun powder bag landed firmly on the tongue of a titan in the centre of the group. It was swallowed, before exploding, sending a mass of boiling titan guts everywhere. The size of the explosion was enough completely obliterate the nap of the neck. "Good work." He reassured Cassandra, before turning to the rest of the squad. "Well? You know what to do." He grunted. "Move out!" He ordered. Bachus He watched Cassandra's movements. Although he was part of Levi's squad, he was still weak. He wasn't special. The type of people that would lead humanity into the light were levi and cassandra. The rest of them were just souls to be lost along the way. His hand stung so bad. His missing finger was long gone, and he was still bleeding. Thankfully the packing he had wrapped his hand up in was slowing the blood loss. He nodded. "Yes Corporal!" He fired his wires into a nearby wall to take off, accelerating towards the nearest titan he could find. He hovered around for a while drawing it closer. He drew a fresh blade to create a spark to light his bag, before dropping it into the titan's open mouth. He back flipped out, watching the titan explode in a bloody red mess. He planted heavily on a rooftop. He panted a little, finding it difficult to use his gear without his index finger. He soon realized that two newish recruits were standing right in front of him. He knew them. "Winchesters!" He barked out. "Where is your squa..." he stopped. His eyes widened, looking down the street. "...Squad." He was distracted as he finished his sentence. Behind several other titan's he could see it. He couldn't not remember it. He'd been face to face with it twice as it devoured 2 of his siblings. It was the titan that had ruined his family. Ignoring the two younger soldiers in front of him he barged through them using his gas, almost screaming, cursing the titan. He wasn't worried about the other's in his way, he out maneuvered anything that came his way, tears rolling down his cheeks. He drew fresh blades as he got closer and closer. levi His attention was drawn by Bachus' screams. He looked towards his squad member's destination, and instantly feared the worst. "Stop him!" He shouted to the Winchester siblings. They bore the wings of freedom, and they were the closest. He also looked towards Cassandra just in case. "That's the titan... the one he's been looking for Cassandra. You must stop him."</s> <\|message\|>Cassandra Cassandra was already moving, not needing to be told anything, just seeing that Bachus was now out of control, and that would certainly lead to his death, but it was little Niesha who reached Bachus first, slamming into the larger man without it seemed a thought. Cassandra swung around, moving so she was in front of them in several quick moves, bearing down on the titan. "Get back, Bachus. Now. Do not be foolish. You cannot fight if you are this emotional" She shouted at him, keeping her voice cool and level, nodding to Niesha. She had her blades in hand, and once more seemed to dance through the air. Niesha struggled, trying to hold Bachus, but knowing that he was way stronger then she could ever hope to be. She didn't even remember making the move to stop him, only knowing that if he reached the titan, in this state, he most likely wouldn't survive. Niesha was just support, but she didn't want to see someone die, not if she could stop it. "Bachus!" Niesha shouted at him</s> <\|message\|>Ethan Winchester Ethan Standing on the highest peek of the clock tower he watched as Levi's squad literally set the titans on fire from the inside out and seeing the nape of the neck get completely obliterated. He smiled and even let out a slight chuckle, "Nice!" He remarked to himself, when he saw Lana making her way up to him. He turned his attention to all around him and saw a 7metre titan coming their way, aiming straight for Lana, when she couldn't see him She'd never make it in time. "Shit!" He cursed to himself, putting his stance on guard, ready to leap into action the moment the titan was near enough for him to use his ODM gear and swing to the titan's neck and cut him down once and for all. "LANA WATCH OUT!" Ethan shouted to alert her of her incoming doom. Lana Running across the rooftop she was aiming for the clock tower to meet up with her twin brother. "Just a little bit further Lana" She mumbled to herself, when she almost tripped on her own footfall when she heard a massive explosion from behind her. Stopping momentarily, she turned around and saw Levi's squad literally blowing up titans, wiping out the nape of the neck in the process. This made her joyous, when she suddenly remembered she had to get to Ethan. She began to pick up her feet once more and began running again, placing her index fingers on the trigger ready to fly onwards and upwards. "Lana watch out!!" She heard, and as she looked at Ethan's stance and warning, she saw a 7metre charging towards her. "No no no" she muttered, picking up her speed as much as she could. It was then she saw Ethan swing into action and land on the titan's beck, before running upwards and slicing the nape of the neck swiftly, causing the titan to stumble and fall. Lana continued to run forward and when the timing was right, she pulled the trigger and sent herself flying onto the clock tower. Ethan AND Lana Both sibling now landed on the clock tower when they're attention was caught from Bachus shouting at them, asking where their squad was. "FURTHER UP SIR!" They shouted back in perfect unison, when they both saw him get get distracted from a titan he clearly recognised. "We gotta stop him" Lana told her brother, when suddenly Levi barked orders to them to stop him. "SIR!" They called back in agreement, before chasing after him. "Bachus you gotta stop this!! Fall back!!" Ethan called after him, when Cassandra came blasting passed them to also stop him. Bachus was a friend of the Winchester family. He was the one soldier that knew their father. They were not prepared to lose him.</s> <\|message\|>Angelo Ortega Angelo ran and after a few more feet into a clearing nearby it wasn't much but it would be enough. Once his 3 titans were in the area he quickly did a 180 and turned around charging at them and while they tried to grab him Angelo quickly used his gas and went down towards the ground making evasive maneuvers and Angelo quickly cut off their Achilles tendons forcing them down onto one knee and as they screeched getting angry Angelo took the shot and used his blade as a flint to light the bag that Corporal levi gave him and threw it into the first ones mouth. As expected it made the stupid titan explode into pieces, honestly Angelo wasn't entirely sure this would even work but to see it work so well meant that once again the wings of freedom are leading the pack. Angelo then did the same thing to the other two and as expected they exploded as well. Once they were dealt with Angelo got on the move looking for more titans however he knew that he would need to get more gas soon if he took to long and not having any gas was a death sentence against titans...</s> <\|message\|>Bachus Gregoravic Bachus "GET OUT OF MY WAY CASSANDRA!" He darted beneath her back in front. Neisha was grasping onto him in the air. "FUCKING LET GO!" He used his powerful shoulder to brush her off. The winchester twins were also calling after him. He completely ignored those calls. So much like your father. Brats. He screamed out once more with tears dripping down his cheeks. He plunged his blades deep into the eyeballs of the titan, and continued to stab, yelling. He retracted, and began slicing pieces off of the titan, switching blades when necessary. Pieces of flesh and skin fell from the titan, as it was diced up. After a good 20 seconds of brutal dismembering, he went straight through the neck, bringing the head off, and landed at the corpse's side. he sat there and wept. It felt so good... some closer... but he couldn't coontrol his tears. Levi Looking around he did notice that the area was starting to clear of titans. The other squads could manage for now. He zipped down towards Bachus. He looked around at all the other squad members present with a menacing glare. "You failed to stop him. That was a direct order." He swung his head back around to Bachus. His tone lowered, still aggressive though. "I understand everything you feel right now." "I lost two of my closet friends on my first expedition with the scouts. It was all commander Erwin's fault. We were supposed to kill him. I used the rain and storm as cover to get close. My error in timing and judgement cost me my friends. I told them to stay back inside the walls, but they made me believe in them. I was wrong to do so that time. You made a decision right now Bachus. You believed in your own ability to take down that titan, and you didn't trust your comrades judgement. That is fine." He stood up. "Seeing you kill it. That's just the way I was when I took revenge on the titan that took my friends. Don't let it consume you Bachus." He almost gave him a smile.. Almost instantly his boot collided with Bachus' nose, breaking it. "However. You put everyone else in danger regardless." He followed up with another kick to the jaw this time. A savage beating took place before Bachus face dripped with blood. "It's never wrong to trust in yourself over your comrades. But to put them in danger too is a crime in my book." He turned quickly on the spot and took off. He wiped his hands clean. "Get him up and back to the barracks." He ordered to the others around.</s> <\|message\|>Cassandra "You try holding a man at least twice your size" Niesha shouted back at Levi, before she realised what she had done. She clamped a hand over her mouth. She had done her best damn it, but Bachus was a big man, and while Niesha was strong, she wasn't that strong. Add in the emotional strength, and then Niesha had had no chance. She gave a sigh, and did as she was told. --- Cassandra gave a heavy sigh, looking to Levi, she said softly "You know none of us could have stopped him. Bachus is stronger then most of us even without the emotional turmoil. We're all alive. And that's all that matters for now, Levi. I should have moved faster, and taken the Titan down. This is my fault. Don't take it out on them"</s> <\|message\|>Ethan Winchester Ethan started to go ahead but when there was no stopping Bachus, he quickly stuck his arm out to stop Lana going any further ahead. "Ethan we can't let him do this!" Lana practically pleaded to her brother, but Ethan refused to even answer her. He just sighed, closed his eyes momentarily and re opened them watching the carnage unfold that Bachus was giving this particular titan. Instead, they made their way close beside Cassandra and Neisha and watched. Luckily they remained alive. Though when Levi came over and gave Bachus a hell of a beating, the twins didn't think Bachus would be alive for much longer. Lana even cringed at how easily Levi was dishing it out and drawing blood from Bachus. Ethan cringed more when Levi shouted at them four for not stopping him though. "Sorry Levi, but if we tried to stop him whilst on that Titan we'd all be dead and not alive." Ethan explained calmly before he told them to take him back to the barracks. "Sir." The twins acknowledged giving a short salute before heading over to Bachus. "Lets get you back and cleaned up" Lana told their family friend.</s>	<\|message\|>Lucatiel "Luca" St.Dragoon Lucatiel frankly had too much on her plate to focus on what Levi and his squad was doing. Her "Kill one titan to attract the others" strategy worked a bit too well. Now she was being chased down by at least seven titans, and not all of them were coming from behind. Some were smark enough to try to intercept her, and a few were breaking down houses just to get to her. She needed to draw then away from here, take them to somewhere that was already in ruins. But in doing so she'd limit her mobility to the titans themselves, which was a death sentence. Perhaps... Lucatiel used what little time she had left to retreat to Levi's group. Fortunately for her the path was clear, but she was leading titans to their direction. Surely they could take care of them however, helped by the fact that Lucatiel wasn't intending to run away either. She just needed to make a tactical retreat and lure the titans into a trap.</s>
<\|description\|>Kaaili Pack: Uutar Gender: Female Age: 3 years Personality: Before one gets to know her, she fits the stereotype of the Uutar. She is distrusting, touchy and can easily be made angry. However after another wolf earns her trust, she shows a side that is friendly, generous and playful. She likes to wrestle and show off her strength, and she is very proud of her identity as Uutar. Appearance: Grizzled pale gray and black fur. Her left ear is half torn off. She has large paws, a short but thick tail and a mane of fur around her neck that makes her appear much larger than she actually is. Other: The rest of the Uutar are killed by a rockslide.</s> <\|message\|>Kaaili All was a swirling mess of gray-white dust that took forever to settle. When at last it did, Kaaili recognized nothing. She cast her gaze around what was once the den site of the great, the unmatchable Uutar, and coughed dryly. Everything had been crushed by the thundering scree in the late morning, just as the pack had settled down to sleep through the hot part of the day. There had been pups in the den. Pups! Heaviness tugged at her heart at the realization that they wouldn't have stood a chance. A faint whiff of blood wafted into her snout and lingered, making Kaaili cringe slightly. She tried to get to her feet, discovered that her tail was trapped under a stone, and whimpered as she pulled free and felt the blood rushing back to the end of her tail. Claws scrabbled feebly against dusty scree as she tried to search for the rest of the Uutar. "No, no, no," she groaned softly. A paw stuck out from under a heavy rock. When Kaaili moved it, she revealed the crushed skull of the Alpha male, a massive bulky white wolf named Tarukida, and jumped back in fright, tumbling down the crumbly slope and very nearly causing another rockslide. "No no no!" she squeaked. Carefully she got up and panted with the emotional exhaustion of having discovered one of the leaders so... disfigured. A soft, careful howl wove from her lips as she called: "Is anyone alive?"</s> <\|message\|>DeadWood Dead. Everything was dead. Eaten away by vicious flames from a fire storm about a week ago. DeadWood carefully, but quickly, padded through the unknown forest she had mistakenly bolted into. She didn't even think twice about the direction she had fled when the claps of hunter-thunder had suddenly errupted, causing her entire pack to scatter as quickly as possible. For all she knew, they could be dead aswell, just like the forest she treaded in. The grass was nothing but ashes, burnt trees layed on the ground or leaned up against the other trees that has somehow remained standing, thorn bushes had begun to replace what might have been a beautiful landscape, and large rocks that had once been covered by bushes or tall grass were now completely exposed. However, the burnt forest seemed to provide her with more cover than the healthy ones did. Her fur blended in with the black and greys of the ashes and rocks, it might have been the only thing that saved her life. DeadWood paused in her tracks, taking a moment to listen for anymore danger or a pack member. Her ears flicked and swivled, trying to pick up even the slightest of sounds. Her tail flicked as she just barely picked up a howl in the far distance, but it was very faint. "Hmm... Its far too distant to be one of my pack members... And too far to be a member of the Eirir.." DeadWood thought to herself. She turned and faced the direction it had came from, finding herself looking towards the Uutar Mountain. "Why would an Uutar be asking if anyone's alive? Surely they wouldn't care about us, they never have." DeadWood thought, puzzled. She quickly padded up to a large rock, wanting to get a better view of the mountain. She leaped up onto the stone and squinted her eyes. She growled in uncertainty, "Something's not right.." DeadWood stared at the space above the treeline. Ever so slightly she could see a light grey cloud, too light to be from a fire. "What is that..?" DeadWood kept her gaze on the odd cloud for another moment or two and then brought her attention back to her current situation. She leaped down from the rock she had been standing on and made her way to a particularly thick thorn bush area. She needed to have some sort of protection, and from what she had observed from past experiences, hunters hated thick bushes, especially thorn bushes. Carefully, she weaved her way through the spikey bushes, crawling, jumping, and cautiously stepping over and under their branches. Once she was safely situated in the middle of them, she gave out a few loud roar-barks warning everyone, "Hunters have attacked! Hide or take shelter!" ()</s> <\|message\|>Sasha Sasha lifted her head slightly, what had happened she saw nothing her ears rang loudly the air was dry and full of dust and derbies. Her eyes flicked open darkness was all she saw she pushed her body to a rock and helped herself up she stood in place licking her nose trying to give herself some comfort from the dryness. she moved her right front paw over and felt wet ... soft and wet.. she squealed and yelped moving backwards quickly, she could smell now blood .. smoke.. decaying bodies mixed with familiar scents. she saw a small amount of light shine threw what was the entrance to her den and didn't move she didn't want to step on more bodies .. more of her pack... how many more.. they had elders and pups... and Alpha where was he. she howled out. "anyone is anyone here" she howled once more... she needed to get out she needed to find anyone who had survived. she stepped down once more this time hearing a loud crack she felt the bones of another under her paw. she growled lowly as she help back tears "no!" she lunged towards the rocks covering the entrance to the cave they barely even moved this time with her whole body growling louder "no!" this time a small movement "no!" she roared out slamming her whole body to the rocks this time pushing them all out of place and outside the smoke filling her lung instantly she gasped out and yelped feeling her back leg get buried under the rocks her front claws grasping at the ground to pull it out.</s> <\|message\|>Jalil (Jal) It was like in the stories, the tales of the Tall Mountains that touched the sun. When one of the Mountains became angry, they would scream and cry, a noise that sounded like a thousand rocks crashing over each other, a rumbling so deep you heard it under your paws a thousand forests away. Then in their furious rage they would spit out their teeth, which were massive rocks the size of ten wolves. It is said that the teeth of the old mountains still litter the land today. The roaring and the spitting were so destructive they could kill wolf or lynx or hunter, anything that stood in the mountain's path. But these were just stories. So when Jal was playing in a mountain spring a fair few number of lopes away from the Uutar Den, and he noticed the ground trembling beneath his feet, he did not take heed. When a flock of birds that lived in one of the sparse spruces took to the sky, screaming and cawing, Jal did not take heed. It was only when a lump of rock the size of his head landed at his paws with a splash did he look up to the Uutar Den, just in time to see it be obliterated by a cascade of boulders. An involuntary whimper escaped from his throat. The rumbling intensified, and soon rocks the size of his paws were hitting his pelt, as he stood transfixed staring at his crushed home. When one bounced off the top of his head, he came to his senses and fled down the mountaintop. As he stared from between the brambles, the cloud of dust seemed to be as tall as the tallest mountain. As the dust cleared, and the shower of rocks had stopped, Jalil approached the wrecked den cautiously. Although the air was clouded and heavy with the smell of dust, he could just about scent his packmate, Kaaili, round the other side of the pile of rocks. The thin howl confirmed it. He quickly made his way round the pile of rocks, and seeing his elder, he lowered himself at her feet whimpering as a good youngling should do. 'What happened?' He enquired desperately. 'What happened to the pups? What happened to everyone?'</s> <\|message\|>Kaaili Within a moment Jalil was covered with relieved, fervent licks as the young wolf approached Kaaili. Normally she would display dominant body language, but it didn't cross her mind now. All she could think was that one other had lived. The pack was not extinct. Someone had survived. Now as he was asking questions, she circled him, prodding his flanks gently with her nose and sniffing carefully as she checked him over for injuries. When it became apparent that he was unhurt, she let out a long sigh and sat carefully in front of Jal on a large, stable-feeling rock. There should be no beating around the bush on this one. She stared him in the eyes a few moments and then dropped her gaze to his paws. "Rock slide," she finally answered hollowly. "Everyone is dead. The pups..." Her voice cracked. "It was probably instant. Painless." Her ears fell flat against her neck.</s> <\|message\|>Jalil (Jal) Jal's eyes opened wide in horror, the news crashing over him as hard as the boulders from before. 'How can we be the only survivors? There were no hunting parties away?' Her eyes told him the answer faster than words could. Alone. The Uutar Pack was gone. He closed his eyes, wishing he could go back to this morning when everything was alright. Having composed himself, he inspected Kaaili himself, checking if she was injured in any way. Her tail was a little flattened at the tip, but otherwise she looked relatively unharmed. Once he did this, he looked up at his packmate. Suddenly all 1 and a half years of his life didn't seem so old to him, he didn't seem so big and strong. He was just an oversized pup, who no longer had a mother. 'What do we do now?' He asked, defeated.</s> <\|message\|>Sasha sasha growled at the rocks and howled loudly maybe someone would hear her "help!" she howled again into the dusty sky tugging a lil at her leg.</s>	<\|message\|>Kaaili "We should go," murmured Kaaili. "Down the mountain. This is no longer our home. We must...we must hunt." She didn't want to be in this position of leadership, but there was no other option. She started to pick her way down the scree carefully, and then...there was a howl. Her ears swiveled slightly. "Hmm," she said softly. "It's in the Hills...perhaps they too have had misfortune. Perhaps the spirits are angered." This sentence ended with a grave rumble in her chest as she tried to decide whether to seek out the wolf who had howled. It would be a gamble, that was sure. Judging on the faintness of the howl, it was very possibly an Eirir, a One of the Hills, and she certainly didn't trust them one bit.</s>
<\|description\|>Kaaili Pack: Uutar Gender: Female Age: 3 years Personality: Before one gets to know her, she fits the stereotype of the Uutar. She is distrusting, touchy and can easily be made angry. However after another wolf earns her trust, she shows a side that is friendly, generous and playful. She likes to wrestle and show off her strength, and she is very proud of her identity as Uutar. Appearance: Grizzled pale gray and black fur. Her left ear is half torn off. She has large paws, a short but thick tail and a mane of fur around her neck that makes her appear much larger than she actually is. Other: The rest of the Uutar are killed by a rockslide.</s> <\|message\|>Jalil (Jal) Jal had never been more glad to see a pup in his life. He had heard the little rocks tumbling, and for a horrible second he thought the mountain had awakened again. He had whipped his head round, ready to run, when he saw a little bundle of tan fur looking at Kaaili and himself sheepishly. 'Rudder!' He yelped, euphoric. Jalil bounded over to the cub, snuffling and licking him all over in happiness. 'Are you well? Are you hurt? Where were you? Where you in the den?' He prodded Rudder with his nose, not smelling any blood on him, rejoicing in the fact that not all of the Uutar clan were dead. He turned to Kaaili and said, 'Look, Kaaili! Come! Rudder is still alive!'</s> <\|message\|>Kaaili Kaaili's ears pricked and she turned her head as fast as a snake's strike. A precious pup had survived! She rushed after Jal as fast as the unstable scree would allow without sliding again. Practically shaking with the relief that one of the litter wasn't dead, she gave Rudder a couple of reassuring licks, her tail giving a couple wags so strong that they made her posterior wiggle. There'd be no easy way to explain to him that his parents and siblings had been crushed, so she decided that it could wait, unless the pup asked. "Come with us, Rudder. We're not angry at you, but we have to go down the mountain. You've never been below treeline, have you?"</s> <\|message\|>Sasha Sasha stayed to the ground her whimpering not stoping she didnt know what to do she was alone and confused about what had happen from what she knew she was all that was left of her pack.. but then a thought crossed her mind what about the other packs. what became of them... she knew the Rretili were sneaky but could they have survived and the Uutar well they were very un trusting but she still was concerned.. they all had pups and elders... maybe some of them survived .. she knew she was closer to the Uutar borders. she looked up toward the mountain top and let out one last loud howl the last one she had in her "Help Please!"</s> <\|message\|>DeadWood DeadWood's ears flicked and she quickly turned her head in the direction of the Eirir. Faintly she could hear a desperate howl for help, so desperate it almost sounded broken. It wasn't as faint as the howl she heard earlier, so the only other option was that it was a howl from an Eirir wolf. DeadWood growled at herself, thinking about what she should do next. "As far as I know my pack is gone, hunters could possibly still be out, but two is better than one I suppose..." She thought to herself, and then chuckled, "Well, if hunters DO find me, I better have someone else for them to pick." DeadWood said to herself and then quickly weaved her way out of the thorn bushes she had hidden in. Once she was safely out she quickly began to sprint across the burnt forest, towards the direction of the Eirir where the desperate howl came from. Ashes kicked up behind her as she ran as fast as she could. She needed to get there quickly, or else she could have quite possibly put herself back into immense danger. Within minutes DeadWood had bolted past the boarder of the burnt forest and darted into the Eirir territory. DeadWood dodged and weaved around various trees of the territory. After a few minutes of running, she skidded to a halt once she came face-to-face with what used to be the Eirir den. Huffing a bit, DeadWood shouted, "Where are you?!" All she could see were rocks and dust. A few of the large rocks were spattered with blood, but since DeadWood was sinister to begin with, she didn't mind. DeadWood attempted to move a few, they only moved slightly. She growled in annoyance. "Where are you?!" She shouted again and loudly roar-barked a few times to try to alert anyone near-by. ()</s> <\|message\|>Rudder Rudder was a tad bit confused over Jalil and Kaaili's reactions, something didn't seem right. He didn't dwell on this set of thoughts for long with all of Jalil's questions ringing in his ears, "I'm fine..." Kaaili's question caused the little cub to squirm a little, "Erm... No..." It was a half-lie, he had once chased a butterfly of evil down there but not beyond. Rudder tried to quickly think of a way out of more possible troubling questions when he heard a faint howl. "Who was that?"</s> <\|message\|>Sasha Sasha herd a growl and yiped out as she tried to move hearing the voice ask were she was her lungs still smoke filled she could barely speak "over here please on the side" she said trying to be as loud as she could. She twisted her body and tried to grab a nearby rock with her paw and push it out for the other to see. it was a small rock but could be herd and that was enough.</s> <\|message\|>DeadWood DeadWood turned as she heard a weak voice call out from her left. As she turned she saw a small rock tumble towards her paws. She carefully padded towards the direction the rock tumbled from, as she walked past a few more large rocks she spotted a white female wolf with her leg trapped underneath another large rock. DeadWood paused and glanced inside the den, seeing nothing but fallen rocks and crushed bodies. "You, my dear, are very lucky to be alive at this moment.." DeadWood said, now looking down at the wolf. DeadWood must have looked very grim and intimidating due to the other female's position. DeadWood was already rather tall, but from the other's angle it was possible for her to look even taller. DeadWood's eyes held no sympathy, her body language showed no urgent concern. Her ears perked forward as she looked at the female's trapped leg. Slowly, DeadWood backed up, head held low in concentration. With a loud growl she darted forward and slammed her torso up against the rock, just giving enough force to cause it to budge and roll away. DeadWood took a few steps back to give the wolf some space, "You, what is your name? Were there any others out hunting or scouting? Because if there are, they might be dead too. Hunters attacked my pack, they might still be out there." DeadWood said, sitting down a few steps away from the wolf. "I am DeadWood."</s> <\|message\|>Sasha "Sasha" she spoke softly moveing her back leg a lil it hurt but felt fine otherwise. "and i dont know i was alseep when i woke up... i busted out of the den but then the rocks they fell.." she looked to the other she was so tall and sleek looking. "you said something about hunters.."</s> <\|message\|>Jalil (Jal) Jalil heard the howl, as faint as it was. He turned to Rudder, aware that the pup wasn't to know about the disaster. Jal decided to just come out with it- the faster he told Rudder, (hopefully) the faster the news would heal. 'Up at the den...' He began, carefully. 'Up at the den, there was a great shower of rocks. Sometimes in the old times the mountains used to become angry, and when they were angry they would spit out their teeth at the world below.' The words flowed easier, as the old tales of his mother and grandmother seemed to come unbidden out of his mouth. 'One of these rocks landed on our den, and..it killed everyone inside. We are the only Uutar left..me, you, and our packmate Kaaili.' 'Now we must go behind the treeline, to hunt and, to find out who that howl belongs to.' He looked at Kaaili, hoping he had explained well enough.</s> <\|message\|>Kaaili Kaaili nodded in approval and closed her eyes to think, hoping that the explanation wouldn't frighten poor little Rudder too much. "We will find food," she agreed, "and we will find out about whoever howled, but we must be careful." She took a couple of pensive steps down the rocky slope and made an effort to keep her ears standing straight in a show of false confidence. "We can't let Rudder out of our sight, so that leaves only one to hunt...unless the howler is worthy of trust." Her hackles raised at the thought of facing a stranger, but she shook the dust out of her fur and continued to lead the way slowly, unsure of herself.</s> <\|message\|>Rudder Rudder stood there stumped, They're... dead? The familiar smell of his pack was evident in the air with a heavy mixture of blood. But... I... I should've been there. I could have saved them! The world around him turned silent, as if his ears turned off to it. He stared blankly at the ground as thoughts of regret crept into his mind. If only I was there. I could have helped. They wouldn't be dead! The cub's eyes watched as a small rock, displaced from Kaaili's paw, rolled down the scree. Without any real thought, he continued to observe the small rock until it collided against a huge boulder, one that was probably three times his size. He remained transfixed on the boulder for a time, his thoughts turning from regret to realization. I could have... could have... All his dreams, all his imaginary adventures, faded into nothing but black and white images to the smell of blood surrounding him, so potent that he could smell the color of it. He was kicked in the stomach by the cruel force that is reality; he was only a pup, nothing more. He wasn't a super strong wolf, he wasn't destined for greatness by some wise-owl's words; he was an ordinary pup. The words of his father crept into his mind, "Don't day-dream too much, you will get disappointed eventually." What hurt the most was that he will never, ever hear him say that again. He'll never get to play with his siblings, lay beside mother or show off his skills to his father. That pain sunk deep into him. He took one final look up the scree at the mountain that he once called home. He had always imagined to leave it for an adventure... but not like this. The young cub then followed closely behind the others; his walk somber, his poster defeated and his spirit broken.</s> <\|message\|>Jalil (Jal) The trees were still green and full of life, looking the same, like the disaster up the mountain had never happened. There were squirrels up in the branches, and birds clogging up his ears with their whistles. Jalil saw a rabbit dart out from the undergrowth, but he wasn't feeling hungry. His appetite had fled him as soon as the boulders fell. More than anything, he wished to find the wolf that had howled. The sound seemed to come from the Eirir Hills, which he assumed meant that the Eirir had encountered trouble as well. It could be a lone wolf: they were usually found in the Eirir territory, seeing as the Rretili had little patience for the exiled creatures, and few wolves dared to climb the dangerous scree alone. He turned to Kaaili. 'I would howl, to see if that wolf would answer, but that would alert any other wolves in the area...and we can't survive an attack with just us, right?' He hoped Kaaili would give him some guidance- he was by no means a leader, and wasn't quite sure of what to do.</s>	<\|message\|>Kaaili "Let's not howl," decided Kaaili. "Not yet. It's too dangerous." Then again, though, traveling out of the familiar territory of the Uutar was also dangerous, yet here they were. Her tail stuck straight out behind her as she picked her way down the rocky slope and descended under the treeline. Two bluebirds huddled in a nest with their chicks and the sight of that family, whole and together, made Kaaili's heart ache. "Maybe if we reach a place that's easily defendable, like a cliff. I'd rather find them first, though." She hated to be the one making the decisions. It was so new, and she didn't want to make a mistake and get her only kin killed.</s>
<\|description\|>DeadWood Pack: The Rretili Gender: Female Age: 2 years Personality: DeadWood is highly observative, while watching or even talking with someone she will take note of their body language, whether it be small ear flicks or large tail whips. She is quite manipulative aswell, often making friendships just to benefit herself, she can easily fake a happy-go-lucky persona all the way to a depressed emotionally-injured persona and everything in-between. Her real dark personality often shows when in the face of life-or-death between her and another wolf. When she does find someone that is 'worth' her kindness, she will defend them no matter what, but if she is betrayed, her wrath goes beyond the anger of a mountain lion and possibly to the point of complete insanity. Appearance: DeadWood is a Maned wolf, but a genetic mutation caused her to be born with black and white fur instead of the natural orange, white, and black (A maned wolf has the standard fox-like colored fur, basically her fur is colored like a silver fox's) She has the usual stature of a Maned wolf, long, tall, lanky, and thin. Her ears are large with black tufts at the tips. Her eyes are a yellow-green color and her claws and canines are slightly longer than normal. She is mainly built for speed, stealth, and tracking, not strength. Other: DeadWood was out tracking an odd scent in the territory with the pack and suddenly gunshots were fired, she bolted in a random direction while the others scattered. She ended up running into a part of the forest that she had never been to, which was covered in ashes from a fire about a week ago and mainly consisted of burnt trees and thorn bushes.</s> <\|message\|>Kaaili Within a moment Jalil was covered with relieved, fervent licks as the young wolf approached Kaaili. Normally she would display dominant body language, but it didn't cross her mind now. All she could think was that one other had lived. The pack was not extinct. Someone had survived. Now as he was asking questions, she circled him, prodding his flanks gently with her nose and sniffing carefully as she checked him over for injuries. When it became apparent that he was unhurt, she let out a long sigh and sat carefully in front of Jal on a large, stable-feeling rock. There should be no beating around the bush on this one. She stared him in the eyes a few moments and then dropped her gaze to his paws. "Rock slide," she finally answered hollowly. "Everyone is dead. The pups..." Her voice cracked. "It was probably instant. Painless." Her ears fell flat against her neck.</s> <\|message\|>Jalil (Jal) Jal's eyes opened wide in horror, the news crashing over him as hard as the boulders from before. 'How can we be the only survivors? There were no hunting parties away?' Her eyes told him the answer faster than words could. Alone. The Uutar Pack was gone. He closed his eyes, wishing he could go back to this morning when everything was alright. Having composed himself, he inspected Kaaili himself, checking if she was injured in any way. Her tail was a little flattened at the tip, but otherwise she looked relatively unharmed. Once he did this, he looked up at his packmate. Suddenly all 1 and a half years of his life didn't seem so old to him, he didn't seem so big and strong. He was just an oversized pup, who no longer had a mother. 'What do we do now?' He asked, defeated.</s> <\|message\|>Sasha sasha growled at the rocks and howled loudly maybe someone would hear her "help!" she howled again into the dusty sky tugging a lil at her leg.</s> <\|message\|>Kaaili "We should go," murmured Kaaili. "Down the mountain. This is no longer our home. We must...we must hunt." She didn't want to be in this position of leadership, but there was no other option. She started to pick her way down the scree carefully, and then...there was a howl. Her ears swiveled slightly. "Hmm," she said softly. "It's in the Hills...perhaps they too have had misfortune. Perhaps the spirits are angered." This sentence ended with a grave rumble in her chest as she tried to decide whether to seek out the wolf who had howled. It would be a gamble, that was sure. Judging on the faintness of the howl, it was very possibly an Eirir, a One of the Hills, and she certainly didn't trust them one bit.</s> <\|message\|>Sasha she howled once more before collapsing back to the ground her lungs filled with dust and smoke and her eyes red from the debris in the air. "damn" she said with spite "this is not good.. stupid stupid im so stupid" she looked around tugging on her back leg again the rock moving a bit but the pain rushed threw it making her yelp out and whimper. she laid her paws out and just laid there whimpering tears rolling down her fur.. "there gone... all gone.."</s> <\|message\|>Rudder The beast of evil faced down the Alpha male of Uutar. The great wolf barked at the beast, "Turn back from whence you came, beast! I will not let you harm my pack or our territory." The creature released a heavy, and mocking, laugh, "I've enslaved every pack before, what makes you think you can take me on?" The beast then brushed a paw against it's large buck-teeth as it's bushy tail twitched in the wind, "I, the Giant Evil Squirrel Overlord of Jumamar will not back down to anyone; especially not you, Rudder the Great! While you may have defeated the Grizzly of Ublar, I will not be as easy." Rudder, the great wolf of the forest, growled at the beast, "Turn back now, or be defeated here." The beast released a roar before charging our hero. Rudder displayed his great speed by jumping to the side, dodging the Giant Evil Squirrel Overlord of Jumamar's attack. He then chomped on the Giant Evil Squirrel Overlord of Jumamar's tail, a sound of both pain and panic erupted from the beast's mouth. Rudder then shook his head from side to side, pulling the full weight of the beast left and right. And he shook... and he shook... and shook... and shook... and- Rudder was brought back to reality; Why is the ground shaking? Dropping the stick from his mouth, Rudder glanced around at his surroundings in worry. He wasn't near the den, probably would get scolded by dad again for wandering off. However, his thoughts were on the more pressing matter of the earth shaking. Rudder also now noticed a loud rumbling coming from the direction of the mountain, What's going on?! As if hearing his thoughts, the ground stopped shaking and the rumbling ceased. He waited a few moments before bolting for the den without second thoughts. What happened? Did the mountain move? Was the earth upset? These thoughts, as well as many others, passed through the little cub's mind as he ran home... Or what was home. It took the sandy-colored wolf cub a few minutes to get within visual rang of the den, where he saw the damage. What... what happened? Boulders, stones, rocks and pebbles could be seen strewn all over the place, as if the mountain had vomited up parts of itself. Movement near what was the den caused the little cub to freeze, Who is that? He took a sniff of the air. All he could smell was the familiar smell of pack-members, stone and... Blood? The little cub needed to get closer to find out what happened but without getting caught. He didn't want to get scolded for running off again. As he quickly, and quietly, climbed up the scree to try to hear or see what's going on. He managed to get close enough to smell distinctly that Kaaili and Jal were nearby. Rudder noticed that they were on the move, down the scree. He stopped on a stone as they moved, hoping not to be noticed as they passed by. The stone he stood on however, didn't like the added weight of the wolf cub. It started to roll down the slope, crashing into other stones or boulders as it did. Rudder gave a quick yelp as he jumped off the stone that intended to take him down with it. The cub managed to keep his footing as he watched the stone tumble down to the bottom of the scree. Rudder quickly looked back at Kaaili and Jal, realizing they probably heard that. He lowered his ears and tucked his tail between his legs, expecting a scolding from either of them for running off again.</s> <\|message\|>Jalil (Jal) Jal had never been more glad to see a pup in his life. He had heard the little rocks tumbling, and for a horrible second he thought the mountain had awakened again. He had whipped his head round, ready to run, when he saw a little bundle of tan fur looking at Kaaili and himself sheepishly. 'Rudder!' He yelped, euphoric. Jalil bounded over to the cub, snuffling and licking him all over in happiness. 'Are you well? Are you hurt? Where were you? Where you in the den?' He prodded Rudder with his nose, not smelling any blood on him, rejoicing in the fact that not all of the Uutar clan were dead. He turned to Kaaili and said, 'Look, Kaaili! Come! Rudder is still alive!'</s> <\|message\|>Kaaili Kaaili's ears pricked and she turned her head as fast as a snake's strike. A precious pup had survived! She rushed after Jal as fast as the unstable scree would allow without sliding again. Practically shaking with the relief that one of the litter wasn't dead, she gave Rudder a couple of reassuring licks, her tail giving a couple wags so strong that they made her posterior wiggle. There'd be no easy way to explain to him that his parents and siblings had been crushed, so she decided that it could wait, unless the pup asked. "Come with us, Rudder. We're not angry at you, but we have to go down the mountain. You've never been below treeline, have you?"</s> <\|message\|>Sasha Sasha stayed to the ground her whimpering not stoping she didnt know what to do she was alone and confused about what had happen from what she knew she was all that was left of her pack.. but then a thought crossed her mind what about the other packs. what became of them... she knew the Rretili were sneaky but could they have survived and the Uutar well they were very un trusting but she still was concerned.. they all had pups and elders... maybe some of them survived .. she knew she was closer to the Uutar borders. she looked up toward the mountain top and let out one last loud howl the last one she had in her "Help Please!"</s> <\|message\|>DeadWood DeadWood's ears flicked and she quickly turned her head in the direction of the Eirir. Faintly she could hear a desperate howl for help, so desperate it almost sounded broken. It wasn't as faint as the howl she heard earlier, so the only other option was that it was a howl from an Eirir wolf. DeadWood growled at herself, thinking about what she should do next. "As far as I know my pack is gone, hunters could possibly still be out, but two is better than one I suppose..." She thought to herself, and then chuckled, "Well, if hunters DO find me, I better have someone else for them to pick." DeadWood said to herself and then quickly weaved her way out of the thorn bushes she had hidden in. Once she was safely out she quickly began to sprint across the burnt forest, towards the direction of the Eirir where the desperate howl came from. Ashes kicked up behind her as she ran as fast as she could. She needed to get there quickly, or else she could have quite possibly put herself back into immense danger. Within minutes DeadWood had bolted past the boarder of the burnt forest and darted into the Eirir territory. DeadWood dodged and weaved around various trees of the territory. After a few minutes of running, she skidded to a halt once she came face-to-face with what used to be the Eirir den. Huffing a bit, DeadWood shouted, "Where are you?!" All she could see were rocks and dust. A few of the large rocks were spattered with blood, but since DeadWood was sinister to begin with, she didn't mind. DeadWood attempted to move a few, they only moved slightly. She growled in annoyance. "Where are you?!" She shouted again and loudly roar-barked a few times to try to alert anyone near-by. ()</s> <\|message\|>Rudder Rudder was a tad bit confused over Jalil and Kaaili's reactions, something didn't seem right. He didn't dwell on this set of thoughts for long with all of Jalil's questions ringing in his ears, "I'm fine..." Kaaili's question caused the little cub to squirm a little, "Erm... No..." It was a half-lie, he had once chased a butterfly of evil down there but not beyond. Rudder tried to quickly think of a way out of more possible troubling questions when he heard a faint howl. "Who was that?"</s> <\|message\|>Sasha Sasha herd a growl and yiped out as she tried to move hearing the voice ask were she was her lungs still smoke filled she could barely speak "over here please on the side" she said trying to be as loud as she could. She twisted her body and tried to grab a nearby rock with her paw and push it out for the other to see. it was a small rock but could be herd and that was enough.</s>	<\|message\|>DeadWood DeadWood turned as she heard a weak voice call out from her left. As she turned she saw a small rock tumble towards her paws. She carefully padded towards the direction the rock tumbled from, as she walked past a few more large rocks she spotted a white female wolf with her leg trapped underneath another large rock. DeadWood paused and glanced inside the den, seeing nothing but fallen rocks and crushed bodies. "You, my dear, are very lucky to be alive at this moment.." DeadWood said, now looking down at the wolf. DeadWood must have looked very grim and intimidating due to the other female's position. DeadWood was already rather tall, but from the other's angle it was possible for her to look even taller. DeadWood's eyes held no sympathy, her body language showed no urgent concern. Her ears perked forward as she looked at the female's trapped leg. Slowly, DeadWood backed up, head held low in concentration. With a loud growl she darted forward and slammed her torso up against the rock, just giving enough force to cause it to budge and roll away. DeadWood took a few steps back to give the wolf some space, "You, what is your name? Were there any others out hunting or scouting? Because if there are, they might be dead too. Hunters attacked my pack, they might still be out there." DeadWood said, sitting down a few steps away from the wolf. "I am DeadWood."</s>
<\|description\|>Jalil (Jal) Pack: The Uutar Gender: Male Age: 1 1/2 years old Personality: In the Uutar pack, his mother had drilled it into him almost from the second he was born: Blood first. Protect the pack. And never, ever trust anyone but your blood. Jal has the first point down, as he's fiercely loyal, and would die for any member of his pack. But try as he might, he just can't shake his want to explore and discover, and gain the quiet reserved nature of his older pack members. He's neither overly submissive nor dominant, and despite not having a deep love for fighting, he will attack viciously if he thinks his pack or himself is in danger. Appearance: Other: He's very sure footed and good at climbing, as well as good at running, which came from navigating the crumbling scree as a pup.</s> <\|message\|>DeadWood Dead. Everything was dead. Eaten away by vicious flames from a fire storm about a week ago. DeadWood carefully, but quickly, padded through the unknown forest she had mistakenly bolted into. She didn't even think twice about the direction she had fled when the claps of hunter-thunder had suddenly errupted, causing her entire pack to scatter as quickly as possible. For all she knew, they could be dead aswell, just like the forest she treaded in. The grass was nothing but ashes, burnt trees layed on the ground or leaned up against the other trees that has somehow remained standing, thorn bushes had begun to replace what might have been a beautiful landscape, and large rocks that had once been covered by bushes or tall grass were now completely exposed. However, the burnt forest seemed to provide her with more cover than the healthy ones did. Her fur blended in with the black and greys of the ashes and rocks, it might have been the only thing that saved her life. DeadWood paused in her tracks, taking a moment to listen for anymore danger or a pack member. Her ears flicked and swivled, trying to pick up even the slightest of sounds. Her tail flicked as she just barely picked up a howl in the far distance, but it was very faint. "Hmm... Its far too distant to be one of my pack members... And too far to be a member of the Eirir.." DeadWood thought to herself. She turned and faced the direction it had came from, finding herself looking towards the Uutar Mountain. "Why would an Uutar be asking if anyone's alive? Surely they wouldn't care about us, they never have." DeadWood thought, puzzled. She quickly padded up to a large rock, wanting to get a better view of the mountain. She leaped up onto the stone and squinted her eyes. She growled in uncertainty, "Something's not right.." DeadWood stared at the space above the treeline. Ever so slightly she could see a light grey cloud, too light to be from a fire. "What is that..?" DeadWood kept her gaze on the odd cloud for another moment or two and then brought her attention back to her current situation. She leaped down from the rock she had been standing on and made her way to a particularly thick thorn bush area. She needed to have some sort of protection, and from what she had observed from past experiences, hunters hated thick bushes, especially thorn bushes. Carefully, she weaved her way through the spikey bushes, crawling, jumping, and cautiously stepping over and under their branches. Once she was safely situated in the middle of them, she gave out a few loud roar-barks warning everyone, "Hunters have attacked! Hide or take shelter!" ()</s> <\|message\|>Sasha Sasha lifted her head slightly, what had happened she saw nothing her ears rang loudly the air was dry and full of dust and derbies. Her eyes flicked open darkness was all she saw she pushed her body to a rock and helped herself up she stood in place licking her nose trying to give herself some comfort from the dryness. she moved her right front paw over and felt wet ... soft and wet.. she squealed and yelped moving backwards quickly, she could smell now blood .. smoke.. decaying bodies mixed with familiar scents. she saw a small amount of light shine threw what was the entrance to her den and didn't move she didn't want to step on more bodies .. more of her pack... how many more.. they had elders and pups... and Alpha where was he. she howled out. "anyone is anyone here" she howled once more... she needed to get out she needed to find anyone who had survived. she stepped down once more this time hearing a loud crack she felt the bones of another under her paw. she growled lowly as she help back tears "no!" she lunged towards the rocks covering the entrance to the cave they barely even moved this time with her whole body growling louder "no!" this time a small movement "no!" she roared out slamming her whole body to the rocks this time pushing them all out of place and outside the smoke filling her lung instantly she gasped out and yelped feeling her back leg get buried under the rocks her front claws grasping at the ground to pull it out.</s> <\|message\|>Jalil (Jal) It was like in the stories, the tales of the Tall Mountains that touched the sun. When one of the Mountains became angry, they would scream and cry, a noise that sounded like a thousand rocks crashing over each other, a rumbling so deep you heard it under your paws a thousand forests away. Then in their furious rage they would spit out their teeth, which were massive rocks the size of ten wolves. It is said that the teeth of the old mountains still litter the land today. The roaring and the spitting were so destructive they could kill wolf or lynx or hunter, anything that stood in the mountain's path. But these were just stories. So when Jal was playing in a mountain spring a fair few number of lopes away from the Uutar Den, and he noticed the ground trembling beneath his feet, he did not take heed. When a flock of birds that lived in one of the sparse spruces took to the sky, screaming and cawing, Jal did not take heed. It was only when a lump of rock the size of his head landed at his paws with a splash did he look up to the Uutar Den, just in time to see it be obliterated by a cascade of boulders. An involuntary whimper escaped from his throat. The rumbling intensified, and soon rocks the size of his paws were hitting his pelt, as he stood transfixed staring at his crushed home. When one bounced off the top of his head, he came to his senses and fled down the mountaintop. As he stared from between the brambles, the cloud of dust seemed to be as tall as the tallest mountain. As the dust cleared, and the shower of rocks had stopped, Jalil approached the wrecked den cautiously. Although the air was clouded and heavy with the smell of dust, he could just about scent his packmate, Kaaili, round the other side of the pile of rocks. The thin howl confirmed it. He quickly made his way round the pile of rocks, and seeing his elder, he lowered himself at her feet whimpering as a good youngling should do. 'What happened?' He enquired desperately. 'What happened to the pups? What happened to everyone?'</s> <\|message\|>Kaaili Within a moment Jalil was covered with relieved, fervent licks as the young wolf approached Kaaili. Normally she would display dominant body language, but it didn't cross her mind now. All she could think was that one other had lived. The pack was not extinct. Someone had survived. Now as he was asking questions, she circled him, prodding his flanks gently with her nose and sniffing carefully as she checked him over for injuries. When it became apparent that he was unhurt, she let out a long sigh and sat carefully in front of Jal on a large, stable-feeling rock. There should be no beating around the bush on this one. She stared him in the eyes a few moments and then dropped her gaze to his paws. "Rock slide," she finally answered hollowly. "Everyone is dead. The pups..." Her voice cracked. "It was probably instant. Painless." Her ears fell flat against her neck.</s> <\|message\|>Jalil (Jal) Jal's eyes opened wide in horror, the news crashing over him as hard as the boulders from before. 'How can we be the only survivors? There were no hunting parties away?' Her eyes told him the answer faster than words could. Alone. The Uutar Pack was gone. He closed his eyes, wishing he could go back to this morning when everything was alright. Having composed himself, he inspected Kaaili himself, checking if she was injured in any way. Her tail was a little flattened at the tip, but otherwise she looked relatively unharmed. Once he did this, he looked up at his packmate. Suddenly all 1 and a half years of his life didn't seem so old to him, he didn't seem so big and strong. He was just an oversized pup, who no longer had a mother. 'What do we do now?' He asked, defeated.</s> <\|message\|>Sasha sasha growled at the rocks and howled loudly maybe someone would hear her "help!" she howled again into the dusty sky tugging a lil at her leg.</s> <\|message\|>Kaaili "We should go," murmured Kaaili. "Down the mountain. This is no longer our home. We must...we must hunt." She didn't want to be in this position of leadership, but there was no other option. She started to pick her way down the scree carefully, and then...there was a howl. Her ears swiveled slightly. "Hmm," she said softly. "It's in the Hills...perhaps they too have had misfortune. Perhaps the spirits are angered." This sentence ended with a grave rumble in her chest as she tried to decide whether to seek out the wolf who had howled. It would be a gamble, that was sure. Judging on the faintness of the howl, it was very possibly an Eirir, a One of the Hills, and she certainly didn't trust them one bit.</s> <\|message\|>Sasha she howled once more before collapsing back to the ground her lungs filled with dust and smoke and her eyes red from the debris in the air. "damn" she said with spite "this is not good.. stupid stupid im so stupid" she looked around tugging on her back leg again the rock moving a bit but the pain rushed threw it making her yelp out and whimper. she laid her paws out and just laid there whimpering tears rolling down her fur.. "there gone... all gone.."</s> <\|message\|>Rudder The beast of evil faced down the Alpha male of Uutar. The great wolf barked at the beast, "Turn back from whence you came, beast! I will not let you harm my pack or our territory." The creature released a heavy, and mocking, laugh, "I've enslaved every pack before, what makes you think you can take me on?" The beast then brushed a paw against it's large buck-teeth as it's bushy tail twitched in the wind, "I, the Giant Evil Squirrel Overlord of Jumamar will not back down to anyone; especially not you, Rudder the Great! While you may have defeated the Grizzly of Ublar, I will not be as easy." Rudder, the great wolf of the forest, growled at the beast, "Turn back now, or be defeated here." The beast released a roar before charging our hero. Rudder displayed his great speed by jumping to the side, dodging the Giant Evil Squirrel Overlord of Jumamar's attack. He then chomped on the Giant Evil Squirrel Overlord of Jumamar's tail, a sound of both pain and panic erupted from the beast's mouth. Rudder then shook his head from side to side, pulling the full weight of the beast left and right. And he shook... and he shook... and shook... and shook... and- Rudder was brought back to reality; Why is the ground shaking? Dropping the stick from his mouth, Rudder glanced around at his surroundings in worry. He wasn't near the den, probably would get scolded by dad again for wandering off. However, his thoughts were on the more pressing matter of the earth shaking. Rudder also now noticed a loud rumbling coming from the direction of the mountain, What's going on?! As if hearing his thoughts, the ground stopped shaking and the rumbling ceased. He waited a few moments before bolting for the den without second thoughts. What happened? Did the mountain move? Was the earth upset? These thoughts, as well as many others, passed through the little cub's mind as he ran home... Or what was home. It took the sandy-colored wolf cub a few minutes to get within visual rang of the den, where he saw the damage. What... what happened? Boulders, stones, rocks and pebbles could be seen strewn all over the place, as if the mountain had vomited up parts of itself. Movement near what was the den caused the little cub to freeze, Who is that? He took a sniff of the air. All he could smell was the familiar smell of pack-members, stone and... Blood? The little cub needed to get closer to find out what happened but without getting caught. He didn't want to get scolded for running off again. As he quickly, and quietly, climbed up the scree to try to hear or see what's going on. He managed to get close enough to smell distinctly that Kaaili and Jal were nearby. Rudder noticed that they were on the move, down the scree. He stopped on a stone as they moved, hoping not to be noticed as they passed by. The stone he stood on however, didn't like the added weight of the wolf cub. It started to roll down the slope, crashing into other stones or boulders as it did. Rudder gave a quick yelp as he jumped off the stone that intended to take him down with it. The cub managed to keep his footing as he watched the stone tumble down to the bottom of the scree. Rudder quickly looked back at Kaaili and Jal, realizing they probably heard that. He lowered his ears and tucked his tail between his legs, expecting a scolding from either of them for running off again.</s>	<\|message\|>Jalil (Jal) Jal had never been more glad to see a pup in his life. He had heard the little rocks tumbling, and for a horrible second he thought the mountain had awakened again. He had whipped his head round, ready to run, when he saw a little bundle of tan fur looking at Kaaili and himself sheepishly. 'Rudder!' He yelped, euphoric. Jalil bounded over to the cub, snuffling and licking him all over in happiness. 'Are you well? Are you hurt? Where were you? Where you in the den?' He prodded Rudder with his nose, not smelling any blood on him, rejoicing in the fact that not all of the Uutar clan were dead. He turned to Kaaili and said, 'Look, Kaaili! Come! Rudder is still alive!'</s>
<\|description\|>Rudder Pack: Uutar Gender: Male Age: 3.5 weeks Personality: An overly (and dangerously) adventurous pup who is commonly oblivious to danger. Rudder is commonly found either play-fighting with his siblings or 'hunting a beast of evil'. This usually ends up with him further away from the den then he should be, fighting an imaginary monster before returning home (if not found) covered in mud or thorns. He could be described as; attentive, silly, overly imaginative, tough and annoying/entertaining (depends who you ask). Appearance: Other: While this is his character sheet of who he is, expect him to be basically the opposite (at least at first) because of the extremely traumatic event that he will be introduced to in his first post. He's going to have a bit of PTSD and probably a bit of depression to begin with. Change of plans with first post, less depressing.</s> <\|message\|>Sasha she howled once more before collapsing back to the ground her lungs filled with dust and smoke and her eyes red from the debris in the air. "damn" she said with spite "this is not good.. stupid stupid im so stupid" she looked around tugging on her back leg again the rock moving a bit but the pain rushed threw it making her yelp out and whimper. she laid her paws out and just laid there whimpering tears rolling down her fur.. "there gone... all gone.."</s> <\|message\|>Rudder The beast of evil faced down the Alpha male of Uutar. The great wolf barked at the beast, "Turn back from whence you came, beast! I will not let you harm my pack or our territory." The creature released a heavy, and mocking, laugh, "I've enslaved every pack before, what makes you think you can take me on?" The beast then brushed a paw against it's large buck-teeth as it's bushy tail twitched in the wind, "I, the Giant Evil Squirrel Overlord of Jumamar will not back down to anyone; especially not you, Rudder the Great! While you may have defeated the Grizzly of Ublar, I will not be as easy." Rudder, the great wolf of the forest, growled at the beast, "Turn back now, or be defeated here." The beast released a roar before charging our hero. Rudder displayed his great speed by jumping to the side, dodging the Giant Evil Squirrel Overlord of Jumamar's attack. He then chomped on the Giant Evil Squirrel Overlord of Jumamar's tail, a sound of both pain and panic erupted from the beast's mouth. Rudder then shook his head from side to side, pulling the full weight of the beast left and right. And he shook... and he shook... and shook... and shook... and- Rudder was brought back to reality; Why is the ground shaking? Dropping the stick from his mouth, Rudder glanced around at his surroundings in worry. He wasn't near the den, probably would get scolded by dad again for wandering off. However, his thoughts were on the more pressing matter of the earth shaking. Rudder also now noticed a loud rumbling coming from the direction of the mountain, What's going on?! As if hearing his thoughts, the ground stopped shaking and the rumbling ceased. He waited a few moments before bolting for the den without second thoughts. What happened? Did the mountain move? Was the earth upset? These thoughts, as well as many others, passed through the little cub's mind as he ran home... Or what was home. It took the sandy-colored wolf cub a few minutes to get within visual rang of the den, where he saw the damage. What... what happened? Boulders, stones, rocks and pebbles could be seen strewn all over the place, as if the mountain had vomited up parts of itself. Movement near what was the den caused the little cub to freeze, Who is that? He took a sniff of the air. All he could smell was the familiar smell of pack-members, stone and... Blood? The little cub needed to get closer to find out what happened but without getting caught. He didn't want to get scolded for running off again. As he quickly, and quietly, climbed up the scree to try to hear or see what's going on. He managed to get close enough to smell distinctly that Kaaili and Jal were nearby. Rudder noticed that they were on the move, down the scree. He stopped on a stone as they moved, hoping not to be noticed as they passed by. The stone he stood on however, didn't like the added weight of the wolf cub. It started to roll down the slope, crashing into other stones or boulders as it did. Rudder gave a quick yelp as he jumped off the stone that intended to take him down with it. The cub managed to keep his footing as he watched the stone tumble down to the bottom of the scree. Rudder quickly looked back at Kaaili and Jal, realizing they probably heard that. He lowered his ears and tucked his tail between his legs, expecting a scolding from either of them for running off again.</s> <\|message\|>Jalil (Jal) Jal had never been more glad to see a pup in his life. He had heard the little rocks tumbling, and for a horrible second he thought the mountain had awakened again. He had whipped his head round, ready to run, when he saw a little bundle of tan fur looking at Kaaili and himself sheepishly. 'Rudder!' He yelped, euphoric. Jalil bounded over to the cub, snuffling and licking him all over in happiness. 'Are you well? Are you hurt? Where were you? Where you in the den?' He prodded Rudder with his nose, not smelling any blood on him, rejoicing in the fact that not all of the Uutar clan were dead. He turned to Kaaili and said, 'Look, Kaaili! Come! Rudder is still alive!'</s> <\|message\|>Kaaili Kaaili's ears pricked and she turned her head as fast as a snake's strike. A precious pup had survived! She rushed after Jal as fast as the unstable scree would allow without sliding again. Practically shaking with the relief that one of the litter wasn't dead, she gave Rudder a couple of reassuring licks, her tail giving a couple wags so strong that they made her posterior wiggle. There'd be no easy way to explain to him that his parents and siblings had been crushed, so she decided that it could wait, unless the pup asked. "Come with us, Rudder. We're not angry at you, but we have to go down the mountain. You've never been below treeline, have you?"</s> <\|message\|>Sasha Sasha stayed to the ground her whimpering not stoping she didnt know what to do she was alone and confused about what had happen from what she knew she was all that was left of her pack.. but then a thought crossed her mind what about the other packs. what became of them... she knew the Rretili were sneaky but could they have survived and the Uutar well they were very un trusting but she still was concerned.. they all had pups and elders... maybe some of them survived .. she knew she was closer to the Uutar borders. she looked up toward the mountain top and let out one last loud howl the last one she had in her "Help Please!"</s> <\|message\|>DeadWood DeadWood's ears flicked and she quickly turned her head in the direction of the Eirir. Faintly she could hear a desperate howl for help, so desperate it almost sounded broken. It wasn't as faint as the howl she heard earlier, so the only other option was that it was a howl from an Eirir wolf. DeadWood growled at herself, thinking about what she should do next. "As far as I know my pack is gone, hunters could possibly still be out, but two is better than one I suppose..." She thought to herself, and then chuckled, "Well, if hunters DO find me, I better have someone else for them to pick." DeadWood said to herself and then quickly weaved her way out of the thorn bushes she had hidden in. Once she was safely out she quickly began to sprint across the burnt forest, towards the direction of the Eirir where the desperate howl came from. Ashes kicked up behind her as she ran as fast as she could. She needed to get there quickly, or else she could have quite possibly put herself back into immense danger. Within minutes DeadWood had bolted past the boarder of the burnt forest and darted into the Eirir territory. DeadWood dodged and weaved around various trees of the territory. After a few minutes of running, she skidded to a halt once she came face-to-face with what used to be the Eirir den. Huffing a bit, DeadWood shouted, "Where are you?!" All she could see were rocks and dust. A few of the large rocks were spattered with blood, but since DeadWood was sinister to begin with, she didn't mind. DeadWood attempted to move a few, they only moved slightly. She growled in annoyance. "Where are you?!" She shouted again and loudly roar-barked a few times to try to alert anyone near-by. ()</s> <\|message\|>Rudder Rudder was a tad bit confused over Jalil and Kaaili's reactions, something didn't seem right. He didn't dwell on this set of thoughts for long with all of Jalil's questions ringing in his ears, "I'm fine..." Kaaili's question caused the little cub to squirm a little, "Erm... No..." It was a half-lie, he had once chased a butterfly of evil down there but not beyond. Rudder tried to quickly think of a way out of more possible troubling questions when he heard a faint howl. "Who was that?"</s> <\|message\|>Sasha Sasha herd a growl and yiped out as she tried to move hearing the voice ask were she was her lungs still smoke filled she could barely speak "over here please on the side" she said trying to be as loud as she could. She twisted her body and tried to grab a nearby rock with her paw and push it out for the other to see. it was a small rock but could be herd and that was enough.</s> <\|message\|>DeadWood DeadWood turned as she heard a weak voice call out from her left. As she turned she saw a small rock tumble towards her paws. She carefully padded towards the direction the rock tumbled from, as she walked past a few more large rocks she spotted a white female wolf with her leg trapped underneath another large rock. DeadWood paused and glanced inside the den, seeing nothing but fallen rocks and crushed bodies. "You, my dear, are very lucky to be alive at this moment.." DeadWood said, now looking down at the wolf. DeadWood must have looked very grim and intimidating due to the other female's position. DeadWood was already rather tall, but from the other's angle it was possible for her to look even taller. DeadWood's eyes held no sympathy, her body language showed no urgent concern. Her ears perked forward as she looked at the female's trapped leg. Slowly, DeadWood backed up, head held low in concentration. With a loud growl she darted forward and slammed her torso up against the rock, just giving enough force to cause it to budge and roll away. DeadWood took a few steps back to give the wolf some space, "You, what is your name? Were there any others out hunting or scouting? Because if there are, they might be dead too. Hunters attacked my pack, they might still be out there." DeadWood said, sitting down a few steps away from the wolf. "I am DeadWood."</s> <\|message\|>Sasha "Sasha" she spoke softly moveing her back leg a lil it hurt but felt fine otherwise. "and i dont know i was alseep when i woke up... i busted out of the den but then the rocks they fell.." she looked to the other she was so tall and sleek looking. "you said something about hunters.."</s> <\|message\|>Jalil (Jal) Jalil heard the howl, as faint as it was. He turned to Rudder, aware that the pup wasn't to know about the disaster. Jal decided to just come out with it- the faster he told Rudder, (hopefully) the faster the news would heal. 'Up at the den...' He began, carefully. 'Up at the den, there was a great shower of rocks. Sometimes in the old times the mountains used to become angry, and when they were angry they would spit out their teeth at the world below.' The words flowed easier, as the old tales of his mother and grandmother seemed to come unbidden out of his mouth. 'One of these rocks landed on our den, and..it killed everyone inside. We are the only Uutar left..me, you, and our packmate Kaaili.' 'Now we must go behind the treeline, to hunt and, to find out who that howl belongs to.' He looked at Kaaili, hoping he had explained well enough.</s> <\|message\|>Kaaili Kaaili nodded in approval and closed her eyes to think, hoping that the explanation wouldn't frighten poor little Rudder too much. "We will find food," she agreed, "and we will find out about whoever howled, but we must be careful." She took a couple of pensive steps down the rocky slope and made an effort to keep her ears standing straight in a show of false confidence. "We can't let Rudder out of our sight, so that leaves only one to hunt...unless the howler is worthy of trust." Her hackles raised at the thought of facing a stranger, but she shook the dust out of her fur and continued to lead the way slowly, unsure of herself.</s>	<\|message\|>Rudder Rudder stood there stumped, They're... dead? The familiar smell of his pack was evident in the air with a heavy mixture of blood. But... I... I should've been there. I could have saved them! The world around him turned silent, as if his ears turned off to it. He stared blankly at the ground as thoughts of regret crept into his mind. If only I was there. I could have helped. They wouldn't be dead! The cub's eyes watched as a small rock, displaced from Kaaili's paw, rolled down the scree. Without any real thought, he continued to observe the small rock until it collided against a huge boulder, one that was probably three times his size. He remained transfixed on the boulder for a time, his thoughts turning from regret to realization. I could have... could have... All his dreams, all his imaginary adventures, faded into nothing but black and white images to the smell of blood surrounding him, so potent that he could smell the color of it. He was kicked in the stomach by the cruel force that is reality; he was only a pup, nothing more. He wasn't a super strong wolf, he wasn't destined for greatness by some wise-owl's words; he was an ordinary pup. The words of his father crept into his mind, "Don't day-dream too much, you will get disappointed eventually." What hurt the most was that he will never, ever hear him say that again. He'll never get to play with his siblings, lay beside mother or show off his skills to his father. That pain sunk deep into him. He took one final look up the scree at the mountain that he once called home. He had always imagined to leave it for an adventure... but not like this. The young cub then followed closely behind the others; his walk somber, his poster defeated and his spirit broken.</s>
<\|description\|>Rudder Pack: Uutar Gender: Male Age: 3.5 weeks Personality: An overly (and dangerously) adventurous pup who is commonly oblivious to danger. Rudder is commonly found either play-fighting with his siblings or 'hunting a beast of evil'. This usually ends up with him further away from the den then he should be, fighting an imaginary monster before returning home (if not found) covered in mud or thorns. He could be described as; attentive, silly, overly imaginative, tough and annoying/entertaining (depends who you ask). Appearance: Other: While this is his character sheet of who he is, expect him to be basically the opposite (at least at first) because of the extremely traumatic event that he will be introduced to in his first post. He's going to have a bit of PTSD and probably a bit of depression to begin with. Change of plans with first post, less depressing.</s> <\|message\|>Jalil (Jal) Jal had never been more glad to see a pup in his life. He had heard the little rocks tumbling, and for a horrible second he thought the mountain had awakened again. He had whipped his head round, ready to run, when he saw a little bundle of tan fur looking at Kaaili and himself sheepishly. 'Rudder!' He yelped, euphoric. Jalil bounded over to the cub, snuffling and licking him all over in happiness. 'Are you well? Are you hurt? Where were you? Where you in the den?' He prodded Rudder with his nose, not smelling any blood on him, rejoicing in the fact that not all of the Uutar clan were dead. He turned to Kaaili and said, 'Look, Kaaili! Come! Rudder is still alive!'</s> <\|message\|>Kaaili Kaaili's ears pricked and she turned her head as fast as a snake's strike. A precious pup had survived! She rushed after Jal as fast as the unstable scree would allow without sliding again. Practically shaking with the relief that one of the litter wasn't dead, she gave Rudder a couple of reassuring licks, her tail giving a couple wags so strong that they made her posterior wiggle. There'd be no easy way to explain to him that his parents and siblings had been crushed, so she decided that it could wait, unless the pup asked. "Come with us, Rudder. We're not angry at you, but we have to go down the mountain. You've never been below treeline, have you?"</s> <\|message\|>Sasha Sasha stayed to the ground her whimpering not stoping she didnt know what to do she was alone and confused about what had happen from what she knew she was all that was left of her pack.. but then a thought crossed her mind what about the other packs. what became of them... she knew the Rretili were sneaky but could they have survived and the Uutar well they were very un trusting but she still was concerned.. they all had pups and elders... maybe some of them survived .. she knew she was closer to the Uutar borders. she looked up toward the mountain top and let out one last loud howl the last one she had in her "Help Please!"</s> <\|message\|>DeadWood DeadWood's ears flicked and she quickly turned her head in the direction of the Eirir. Faintly she could hear a desperate howl for help, so desperate it almost sounded broken. It wasn't as faint as the howl she heard earlier, so the only other option was that it was a howl from an Eirir wolf. DeadWood growled at herself, thinking about what she should do next. "As far as I know my pack is gone, hunters could possibly still be out, but two is better than one I suppose..." She thought to herself, and then chuckled, "Well, if hunters DO find me, I better have someone else for them to pick." DeadWood said to herself and then quickly weaved her way out of the thorn bushes she had hidden in. Once she was safely out she quickly began to sprint across the burnt forest, towards the direction of the Eirir where the desperate howl came from. Ashes kicked up behind her as she ran as fast as she could. She needed to get there quickly, or else she could have quite possibly put herself back into immense danger. Within minutes DeadWood had bolted past the boarder of the burnt forest and darted into the Eirir territory. DeadWood dodged and weaved around various trees of the territory. After a few minutes of running, she skidded to a halt once she came face-to-face with what used to be the Eirir den. Huffing a bit, DeadWood shouted, "Where are you?!" All she could see were rocks and dust. A few of the large rocks were spattered with blood, but since DeadWood was sinister to begin with, she didn't mind. DeadWood attempted to move a few, they only moved slightly. She growled in annoyance. "Where are you?!" She shouted again and loudly roar-barked a few times to try to alert anyone near-by. ()</s> <\|message\|>Rudder Rudder was a tad bit confused over Jalil and Kaaili's reactions, something didn't seem right. He didn't dwell on this set of thoughts for long with all of Jalil's questions ringing in his ears, "I'm fine..." Kaaili's question caused the little cub to squirm a little, "Erm... No..." It was a half-lie, he had once chased a butterfly of evil down there but not beyond. Rudder tried to quickly think of a way out of more possible troubling questions when he heard a faint howl. "Who was that?"</s> <\|message\|>Sasha Sasha herd a growl and yiped out as she tried to move hearing the voice ask were she was her lungs still smoke filled she could barely speak "over here please on the side" she said trying to be as loud as she could. She twisted her body and tried to grab a nearby rock with her paw and push it out for the other to see. it was a small rock but could be herd and that was enough.</s> <\|message\|>DeadWood DeadWood turned as she heard a weak voice call out from her left. As she turned she saw a small rock tumble towards her paws. She carefully padded towards the direction the rock tumbled from, as she walked past a few more large rocks she spotted a white female wolf with her leg trapped underneath another large rock. DeadWood paused and glanced inside the den, seeing nothing but fallen rocks and crushed bodies. "You, my dear, are very lucky to be alive at this moment.." DeadWood said, now looking down at the wolf. DeadWood must have looked very grim and intimidating due to the other female's position. DeadWood was already rather tall, but from the other's angle it was possible for her to look even taller. DeadWood's eyes held no sympathy, her body language showed no urgent concern. Her ears perked forward as she looked at the female's trapped leg. Slowly, DeadWood backed up, head held low in concentration. With a loud growl she darted forward and slammed her torso up against the rock, just giving enough force to cause it to budge and roll away. DeadWood took a few steps back to give the wolf some space, "You, what is your name? Were there any others out hunting or scouting? Because if there are, they might be dead too. Hunters attacked my pack, they might still be out there." DeadWood said, sitting down a few steps away from the wolf. "I am DeadWood."</s> <\|message\|>Sasha "Sasha" she spoke softly moveing her back leg a lil it hurt but felt fine otherwise. "and i dont know i was alseep when i woke up... i busted out of the den but then the rocks they fell.." she looked to the other she was so tall and sleek looking. "you said something about hunters.."</s> <\|message\|>Jalil (Jal) Jalil heard the howl, as faint as it was. He turned to Rudder, aware that the pup wasn't to know about the disaster. Jal decided to just come out with it- the faster he told Rudder, (hopefully) the faster the news would heal. 'Up at the den...' He began, carefully. 'Up at the den, there was a great shower of rocks. Sometimes in the old times the mountains used to become angry, and when they were angry they would spit out their teeth at the world below.' The words flowed easier, as the old tales of his mother and grandmother seemed to come unbidden out of his mouth. 'One of these rocks landed on our den, and..it killed everyone inside. We are the only Uutar left..me, you, and our packmate Kaaili.' 'Now we must go behind the treeline, to hunt and, to find out who that howl belongs to.' He looked at Kaaili, hoping he had explained well enough.</s> <\|message\|>Kaaili Kaaili nodded in approval and closed her eyes to think, hoping that the explanation wouldn't frighten poor little Rudder too much. "We will find food," she agreed, "and we will find out about whoever howled, but we must be careful." She took a couple of pensive steps down the rocky slope and made an effort to keep her ears standing straight in a show of false confidence. "We can't let Rudder out of our sight, so that leaves only one to hunt...unless the howler is worthy of trust." Her hackles raised at the thought of facing a stranger, but she shook the dust out of her fur and continued to lead the way slowly, unsure of herself.</s> <\|message\|>Rudder Rudder stood there stumped, They're... dead? The familiar smell of his pack was evident in the air with a heavy mixture of blood. But... I... I should've been there. I could have saved them! The world around him turned silent, as if his ears turned off to it. He stared blankly at the ground as thoughts of regret crept into his mind. If only I was there. I could have helped. They wouldn't be dead! The cub's eyes watched as a small rock, displaced from Kaaili's paw, rolled down the scree. Without any real thought, he continued to observe the small rock until it collided against a huge boulder, one that was probably three times his size. He remained transfixed on the boulder for a time, his thoughts turning from regret to realization. I could have... could have... All his dreams, all his imaginary adventures, faded into nothing but black and white images to the smell of blood surrounding him, so potent that he could smell the color of it. He was kicked in the stomach by the cruel force that is reality; he was only a pup, nothing more. He wasn't a super strong wolf, he wasn't destined for greatness by some wise-owl's words; he was an ordinary pup. The words of his father crept into his mind, "Don't day-dream too much, you will get disappointed eventually." What hurt the most was that he will never, ever hear him say that again. He'll never get to play with his siblings, lay beside mother or show off his skills to his father. That pain sunk deep into him. He took one final look up the scree at the mountain that he once called home. He had always imagined to leave it for an adventure... but not like this. The young cub then followed closely behind the others; his walk somber, his poster defeated and his spirit broken.</s> <\|message\|>Jalil (Jal) The trees were still green and full of life, looking the same, like the disaster up the mountain had never happened. There were squirrels up in the branches, and birds clogging up his ears with their whistles. Jalil saw a rabbit dart out from the undergrowth, but he wasn't feeling hungry. His appetite had fled him as soon as the boulders fell. More than anything, he wished to find the wolf that had howled. The sound seemed to come from the Eirir Hills, which he assumed meant that the Eirir had encountered trouble as well. It could be a lone wolf: they were usually found in the Eirir territory, seeing as the Rretili had little patience for the exiled creatures, and few wolves dared to climb the dangerous scree alone. He turned to Kaaili. 'I would howl, to see if that wolf would answer, but that would alert any other wolves in the area...and we can't survive an attack with just us, right?' He hoped Kaaili would give him some guidance- he was by no means a leader, and wasn't quite sure of what to do.</s> <\|message\|>Kaaili "Let's not howl," decided Kaaili. "Not yet. It's too dangerous." Then again, though, traveling out of the familiar territory of the Uutar was also dangerous, yet here they were. Her tail stuck straight out behind her as she picked her way down the rocky slope and descended under the treeline. Two bluebirds huddled in a nest with their chicks and the sight of that family, whole and together, made Kaaili's heart ache. "Maybe if we reach a place that's easily defendable, like a cliff. I'd rather find them first, though." She hated to be the one making the decisions. It was so new, and she didn't want to make a mistake and get her only kin killed.</s>	<\|message\|>Rudder Rudder quietly followed behind them, not giving ear to what was being said. He simply observed their surroundings with a blank stare, things he once imagined of seeing now mean little to his young eyes.</s>
<\|description\|>Jiang Baji Clan: Shima Title: The Dog of Shima Gender: Male Age: 19 Race: Human Height: 5'11 Weight: 182 lbs Appearance: Ignore eyepatch and five other swords. Occupation: Traveling vagabond and outlaw Notable Skills: Master of Posing: As a member of his family, being able to strike a pose and look great during all that he does is paramount. They may be separated right now, but posing is still a very important skill to maintain. Dueling: During his years of enslavement he excelled at one on one fighting. Jiang has no physical problems with groups, he just prefers not having to watch his back while beating whatever is in front of him. The less he has to worry about, the more he is able to focus. Magical Abilities: N/A Familiars: N/A Ki Techniques/powers: A foreign technique that he was taught while living in a slave encampment. It is used to calm one's nerves and mind before and after partaking in dangerous missions. Weapons: His personal sword, it has been in his family for four generations, his father and grandfather have used it, though it's reputation has been tarnished due to their illicit lifestyle. His sword is deemed worthless and trash but Jiang Baji still uses it to this day and will restore both of their honor. Other Gear: Enough money to spend a week in a standard inn/hotel. Personality: Loyal, outgoing, eccentric and over the top. These were all common traits belonging to his brothers and sisters. Brief history: Enslaved by birth after his parents struck out and lived their lives as high profile criminals. He comes from a long family of criminals who have committed crimes against his own nation and the foreign nation in which he was raised. He, like his brothers and sisters were made to live their lives as weapons and serve the foreign nation by completing highly dangerous missions until their deaths. They believed that they would be granted freedom and their honor restored if they do enough, but their leader and eldest brother found out that they never had any intentions of releasing them so he planned an escape. Once free, they began a crusade to restore the honor to their names and to clear themselves of all charges and debt that they inherited from their families. The world expected them to be just like their families so they dressed the part, looking like eccentric vagabonds but going around in the foreign nation and righting wrongs, helping the little guy and saving lives until that foreign government gives up on their pursuit and identify them as cleared individuals. Six months after their escape and they found it necessary to split up and partake in individual tasks to help achieve goals as a whole. Though he never stepped foot into this land before, he was the best candidate to travel to the islands of Baji, gather influence and find someone powerful enough to speak on their behalf, or to help them fight if it ever came down to that. He allied himself with the first clan that would take him in with very little questions asked and here is where his journey picks up. Other: Jiang Baji is not his real name. He does know his real name.</s> <\|message\|>Jiang Baji Things were starting to heat up and Baji was becoming more and more excited. Someone may have been waiting on them to arrive, even one was armed. The opportunity to meet their enemy, find out who's behalf they act on and deal a crushing blow to their operation if they truly were an enemy. Baji had hoped that these people were friendly though and able to help them all get further. He wasn't aware of any further aid being delivered after leaving so soon but it was a possibility. The Dog of Shima stretched out his arms and rolled his neck around in circles to loosen up his joints. This would be a group decision but he hoped everyone would see the opportunity ahead of them and move forward instead of going around to avoid conflict. Jiang Baji unsheathed his blade and pointed it forward to their destination. "We should move forward. If they are waiting on us so patiently then we should happily oblige them. If they are friends then great, if they are enemies then even better. We beat them up, ask for information and move forward on our journey. I suggest we approach peacefully though." He then went over towards Gin and nudged him in the shoulder with his elbow to get his attention. "Hey, do you mind staying near our guide as we move forward? He may need some protection if these guys are looking to hurt us."</s> <\|message\|>Kenji Takeda The group Kenji had been traveling with was certainly not the regular kind. Though then again, they needed to be special since they were on a special mission. Its specialness increased when Metou the old Tengu used some magic involving plopping an eye into her empty eye socket which transformed her into a younger version of herself. She told everyone not to pry which and so no one did despite raising the entire group's curiosity. Some time later, Jiang began a speech about taking other people's lives. Though he had a lot of good points, Kenji was sure that dealing death was more of a 'spur of the moment' thing than a well thought-out decision. If blood was to be shed, then it shall be shed though the Yang would prefer more peaceful outcomes, even if there was a war going on and much unrest was to be found in their journey. Soon, Takumi the guide warned of multiple presences ahead of them. They wore unusual clothing and they could be the thieves behind the robbery of the Shima Clan's artifacts. Jiang certainly wanted to meet them and suggested to do so. Kenji thought there was little reason not to. "Agreed but we should still be careful. We do not know who they are and they are expecting us."</s> <\|message\|>Yuudai Wakahisa Yuudai gave a curt nod to Takumi when he told her that they would be there rather soon, which was good because she was already getting hungry by this point. She did take note of the crows that their guide interacted with, clearly being connected with him in some way, though in what way she did not know. Still they apparently made for pretty good scouts given that they could relay news to their master, and it was lucky they that had done so, otherwise they may have been in real danger. "I agree, they are either our first lead or Ru knew we were coming, either way let us meet them" She was alright with Baji's little plan, after all it made sense and it was not like she saw the waiting group as any kind of threat, more so given that they were not even trying to hide. However she did not agree on one little thing "You coming Gin? We can be up front if you like." Taking her hands out of her pockets she started to move forward "You are free to stay back if you wish guide. If you want you can ask one of the others for protect as well." She was clearly not making her self a option for this as even now she was moving up, after all she was not one to waste other peoples or her own time.</s> <\|message\|>Tetsuya Ueno Tetsuya had no real idea how to move along with his search, only that he knew he had to. It stood to reason that someone in Ru had the information he was seeking, but actually coming across that person was going to be difficult. Stolen relics were hardly the things of common trade so anyone that had knowledge of it was probably less than reputable, and therefore most people wouldn't know of them. Its times like this he wouldn't mind having someone a little more... Knowledgeable of how the underground world worked, then perhaps he'd not be chasing ghosts. If he kept at it he was bound to stumble across something, but who knows how long that might take? When being quick about it was fair important he couldn't quite afford to wander about hoping to strike it lucky. In the not too far distance the young Neko began to pick up an awful lot of voices, and if he wasn't mistaken the clatter of steel against stone as well. Marching troops? It sounded rhythmic so that made sense, but why were there troops moving? Was it Ru's own or was it something else? He had no personal claim in the matter but he was curious, enough so that he began to follow the sounds to try and see what it was. The swathes of people gathered along a main road was show enough of where the spectacle was, and Tetsuya had to pick his way through the crowds in order to get eyes on just what was happening. He'd expected perhaps one of the local nobility was passing through, or if he were so fortunate perhaps Lady Ru herself. What he found on the other sides of the crowd, however, was far from pleasing. "Naji...?" Tetsuya whispered, frowning as he glanced over at the norimono. What was someone like her doing all the way out here? It was a bit odd that such an important person would show up like this, though he could hardly claim to know what went on between rulers. When the soldiers parted and the kitsune woman began to speak he couldn't help but feel a little war of what was happening. Just by nature he had to be cautious of strangers, it was basically required by his position as a guard to do so. While he may have no personal stake in Ru he did need these people's aid, and anything that might inhibit his search would be a problem. It would hardly work for him to ask them to leave, he wasn't nearly thick enough to even consider such a thing. But maybe their being here wasn't all bad, maybe he could work it to his advantage. If the future Empress was seeking an audience with Lady Ru, and indeed she was, she was all but guaranteed to get it. Should Tetsuya be able to join the convoy then he'd surely reach the palace, and perhaps even be permitted an audience as well. Unless he had some serious claim himself to enter the palace grounds he didn't think it likely he'd see the Lady himself; Shima's badge may hold some weight, but with brigands and bandits roaming one could never be completely certain someone was who they said they were. Tetsuya decided then if he was to get in touch with Lady Ru then this was his best chance. Seeing no other option he broke rank in the crowd, stepping out to the road to confront the kitsune woman. Naturally the guards and soldiers around the area immediately went to their weapons, to which he only responded by putting his hands up defensively, trying to show he meant no harm. "Relax, I'm not here to cause trouble, I only wish to make a request," Tetsuya explained, trying to sound far more authoritative than his youthful voice might allow. Relieved when the guards looked to ease up a bit he looked at the kitsune woman, smiling faintly before making a polite bow in her direction. "I'm seeking an audience with Lady Ru as well, on behalf of Lord Shima. If it's not too much trouble I'd like to join you and your Lady in visiting her." He didn't want to admit he was utterly lost and needed directions, there was a little bit of pride to be had after all.</s> <\|message\|>Gin (pronounced 'Jin') Despite his worries that something might happen, Gin was feeling pretty prepared and willing to try and show he could still fight. If he was to be an adventurer then he was going to have to get serious. He was going to be the best Half-Oni there was, even if there was another one in their group. He would stand up to these people up ahead if they dared threatened his group, if he could keep trying to be brave about it. This was hard even for him when he was supposed to have all the confidence in the world given what he was and what he was supposed to do. Holding his head up high as he walked he couldn't help but gasp when Jiang nudged his shoulder, giving it a rub as he gave him an annoyed look before looking away. "What? I thought that would be something you would want to do". Feeling fairly confused about his decisions his eyes soon wandered away from Jiang before up to Yuudai, curious when she mentioned him by name. He didn't think she'd be comfortable with someone of his stature holding up the front along with her, given the fact she was of such a height difference that it'd probably look like a joke to their possible attackers. "What? You want me up front too?" he questioned her before smiling, showing off his sharp teeth, "I'm not going to stand back and let everything happen without me. I'm capable of protecting others!" Moving quickly to the front Gin held onto his cloak, keeping his strides fairly long so he could keep ahead of the others without falling behind his post.</s>	<\|message\|>Jiang Baji Jiang was not used to such disarray in a group. He simply motioned his hand over his head when Yuudai spoked as she seemed to miss the entire point of his request. Her attitude became infectious and Gin quickly followed up with her and now their guide would be left alone to fend for himself if anything happened. "He's the only one that needs protection..." Baji thought to himself as he sulkily walked over to Takumi to provide him with the assurance that he would be protected no matter what went down. Baji wasn't as strong or durable as Gin so if a surprise attack occurred or he was caught off guard then Jiang would fall to the first blade that pierced his flesh. He wasn't mad, it was good to know early on that he couldn't entrust the important tasks to others. He really wanted their strongest member to protect the weakest and most needed as they all moved together, but today Takumi had the dog at his side and that's who he would have to depend on from this moment on. Standing next to Takumi he sighed and spoke low enough for them to hear or anyone with a strong sense of hearing. "I'm sorry, I wanted him to watch your back but I don't think that they trust me. No matter what though, if they are the enemy then I will fall before you do, this I swear. I will not let any harm come to you while I live." Jiang then spoke up to the two half-Onis. "Well, go ahead, lead us onward."</s>
<\|description\|>Jiang Baji Clan: Shima Title: The Dog of Shima Gender: Male Age: 19 Race: Human Height: 5'11 Weight: 182 lbs Appearance: Ignore eyepatch and five other swords. Occupation: Traveling vagabond and outlaw Notable Skills: Master of Posing: As a member of his family, being able to strike a pose and look great during all that he does is paramount. They may be separated right now, but posing is still a very important skill to maintain. Dueling: During his years of enslavement he excelled at one on one fighting. Jiang has no physical problems with groups, he just prefers not having to watch his back while beating whatever is in front of him. The less he has to worry about, the more he is able to focus. Magical Abilities: N/A Familiars: N/A Ki Techniques/powers: A foreign technique that he was taught while living in a slave encampment. It is used to calm one's nerves and mind before and after partaking in dangerous missions. Weapons: His personal sword, it has been in his family for four generations, his father and grandfather have used it, though it's reputation has been tarnished due to their illicit lifestyle. His sword is deemed worthless and trash but Jiang Baji still uses it to this day and will restore both of their honor. Other Gear: Enough money to spend a week in a standard inn/hotel. Personality: Loyal, outgoing, eccentric and over the top. These were all common traits belonging to his brothers and sisters. Brief history: Enslaved by birth after his parents struck out and lived their lives as high profile criminals. He comes from a long family of criminals who have committed crimes against his own nation and the foreign nation in which he was raised. He, like his brothers and sisters were made to live their lives as weapons and serve the foreign nation by completing highly dangerous missions until their deaths. They believed that they would be granted freedom and their honor restored if they do enough, but their leader and eldest brother found out that they never had any intentions of releasing them so he planned an escape. Once free, they began a crusade to restore the honor to their names and to clear themselves of all charges and debt that they inherited from their families. The world expected them to be just like their families so they dressed the part, looking like eccentric vagabonds but going around in the foreign nation and righting wrongs, helping the little guy and saving lives until that foreign government gives up on their pursuit and identify them as cleared individuals. Six months after their escape and they found it necessary to split up and partake in individual tasks to help achieve goals as a whole. Though he never stepped foot into this land before, he was the best candidate to travel to the islands of Baji, gather influence and find someone powerful enough to speak on their behalf, or to help them fight if it ever came down to that. He allied himself with the first clan that would take him in with very little questions asked and here is where his journey picks up. Other: Jiang Baji is not his real name. He does know his real name.</s> <\|message\|>Jiang Baji Baji was going to respond to Kenji and tell him that he trusts Tetsuya's reasons for lying to them just as much as he trusts his own for doing the same to him, but it seems like the person in question completely mistook his words. Jiang simply sighed deeply as another person became hostile and misunderstood him. Tetsuya didn't know the severity of the entire situation that they were in so he kept himself calm by repeating that in his head. He didn't recall treating Tetsuya any less than the next person. "I have nothing against you, I can even see why you're so defensive, but you have misunderstood my words. I have nothing but respect for you and those that I fight beside. How about we go to sleep on this and you meet me by the town gate at the crack of dawn, because there is something that I want to show you. There is something that I want you to understand and something that I need to understand." He thought about it some more and figured now was also a good time if the neko was more up for it.</s> <\|message\|>Gin (pronounced 'Jin') Gin hoped they weren't going anywhere without them, even if there was no real reason for the others to leave them behind. He did wonder if the others went on ahead and they were left to head back to Shima just how much trouble there would be whether for them or the ones who left them behind. They were supposed to be working as a team, after all, but who knew if they actually wanted them along. Gin hadn't made any companions so he did worry he might get forgotten about, even if he slept in for too long. Maybe it was just anxieties building from the possibility of being alone and left behind because of how young and 'inexperienced' he was. Watching Metou head on out he let out a disappointed sigh, feeling terrible that he was essentially making it difficult for others. He just wanted to feel useful. Sighing as he rubbed his neck, waiting for Metou to return as he stared at the people, watching them all interact with each other and how strange some of them got in the process. This was probably why he never went to this kind of place before, too many strangers for his liking. When Metou returned he gave her a hopeful smile, but when she spoke of her decision he frowned, looking down with a sigh. "Stay here? But what if…uhh…" He couldn't say much, at least not when Metou suddenly declared her decision to be a good one. "Wait, but it's only a little bit of darkness! I'm strong, I can protect us in the dark", he spoke quickly, following on after Metou, "Have a little faith in me, please? Yuudai has a particular smell, maybe I can pick it up…"</s> <\|message\|>Metou Toribaba Gin brought up an objection to Metou's new decision, and Metou immediately paused and turned to hear him out. Getting stuck out on the streets late at night was still a very unappealing possibility to Metou, even if this town didn't seem too bad. However, Metou respected Gin's abilities and decisions, or at least felt obligated to respect them despite not knowing him very well yet. More importantly she would hate for Gin to think he wasn't taken seriously, and bring down his confidence even lower than it already seemed. "I suppose I might be giving up too early, and we'd want to give Kiko a prompt response," Metou said, though with the slightly frustrated tone of someone who just had an early night's sleep ripped away from them for the sake of the greater good. "Two of our companions went to see Lady Ru, so I know of a place they've been, at least," Metou said, "But Yuudai ran off to get food, so I have a fairly good idea of where she went too. If you're confident in your nose, we could try and track her down first."</s> <\|message\|>Gin (pronounced 'Jin') Gin was sure he could use his senses to help find the others, or at least one of them if they got unlucky. He didn't want everybody to split up like this and with the group all in different places it seemed as if they were going to have trouble communicating with each other to where they were going and when they were going to head out. They had to pick up this musician too on the way out which could be a problem if they were all properly split up. The musician could wander off or get impatient with them and decide to strike off the deal which would be a disaster. Staring at Metou with hopeful eyes he smiled slightly when she admitted the danger wasn't too much of a big deal quite yet. He would do what he could to protect her and was fairly confident he would do a good job too. He had practiced for a long time and did manage to slice up that strange stony man's legs so he couldn't be that bad at fighting. Sighing happily when Metou gave him some direction to look for he nodded quickly, looking to the door. "I won't let you down! If we follow a trail from where we last saw her, it should be easy! Right?" he spoke quickly, looking back to her, "Then if we can track down the other group, we can stay at the inn together, right? Or maybe even sleep under the stars…like adventurers!" Heading quickly to the door, Gin couldn't help but feel excited and anxious about doing this, hoping he might achieve this difficult task. He was fairly good at smelling out others, even for a half-Oni. He figured it was his hunger that made his sense of smell better, but using that to track down people shouldn't be a problem. He wondered if he should be looking for the group that went to Ru first just to see what the place they had the Lady in was like, but that might be a little suspicious at this time of day. Heading out the door he looked around, his first thought being to head back to the marketplace where all the people were before once Metou was ready to go.</s> <\|message\|>Tetsuya Ueno Tetsuya really didn't appreciate a stranger being in his room and insulting him like this. Even if Lord Shima had indeed sent Jiang that didn't necessarily mean he was going to personally like the man. For his Lord's sake he would cooperate, or try to, but that was about the extent of their partnership. His position softened a little when some of the uncertainty was cleared, yet the Neko still held some reservations. Just who was he exactly, and what reason was he here, handling Shima matters? Far as Tetsuya could recall, Jiang wasn't a resident of Shima, so did that make him a hired sword? Leaving a job so sensitive and important to someone like that didn't seem right, and he became naturally wary of anyone from outside his home; trusting Jiang wasn't impossible, but for the time being he wasn't exactly going to befriend the man. Looking at Jiang curiously as he proposed a meeting tomorrow, Tetsuya bit his lip uncertainly and glanced over at the door. Should be bother? It would probably be more of the same, with the man trying to convince him to go and see Lady Ru. He couldn't see much purpose in it if that were the case, but if they were to be cooperating on this mission of theirs he figured he should at least make an effort to get along. "Well... Alright then, I guess I can do that much," the Neko mumbled, looking back at Jiang with a slight frown, "As long as you agree that you won't go and see Lady Ru by yourself. You're helping us in Shima's affairs, so it's only right that someone from Shima come along. I've already spoken with her, so it'd make sense for me to go with you since I know her at least." Hopefully the Princess wasn't there tomorrow, he wasn't so sure he could take more of her odd behavior. "Whatever you decide, let me know in the morning. I've been walking all day and I'm tired, I need sleep," Tetsuya added, stifling a yawn with one hand as he stretched the other up over his head. His armor didn't really contribute to his exhaustion, at least not anymore as he was used to the added weight. Actually being on his feet all day, coupled with not eating much had taken its toll and now that the day had winded down he was really feeling the effects. Shuffling over to where his bedroll lay he took a seat on the floor beside it, again stretching his arms with a big yawn before rubbing at his eyes, glancing up at Kenji and Jiang curiously. "Unless you two plan on sharing a room with me I'd appreciate a bit of privacy. Just come knocking whenever you're up Jiang, I should be awake plenty early."</s> <\|message\|>Metou Toribaba Metou followed Gin to the door, but he was so excited that Metou couldn't keep up easily. Going out this late for because he wanted to sleep outside was the last straw, though. "We'll have plenty of nights under the stars on the trail, I'm sure, let's savor our roofs while we have them!" Metou said half-angrily and half-jokingly as they exited the inn. Once they were outside, Gin seemed to be indicating towards the marketplace where Yuudai ran off to. Despite how large her nose was, Metou didn't have a great sense of smell, probably even worse than a human's, and she was completely reliant on Gin to trail the others. "Lead the way," Metou said, hoping he wouldn't lead too quickly to keep up.</s>	<\|message\|>Jiang Baji Baji stood there in the door, nodding his head up and down as Tetsuya spoke to him and laid out his terms for tomorrow. He was going to go and get some sleep of his own after he was done with the neko. "Well, if you go along then that will make two vassals of Shima attending, that will be fine." Jiang didn't clarify his words nor did he wait to see if Tetsuya fully understood what he was saying. He simply strolled off downstairs to rent a room for himself and go to sleep.</s>
<\|description\|>Yuudai Wakahisa Clan: Shima Title: Yuudai the Demon of Shima Gender: Female Age: 19 Race: Half-Oni Height: 6'4 Appearance: "You bore me..." Occupation: Enforcer / Youkai Mystic Notable Skills: Combat: As expected of someone with Oni blood running through their body Yuu is a natural fighter capable of taking on both armed enemies and beasts with her bare hands. She tends to only use her fists as to not accidentally kill anyone, but she does wield large weapons with surprising amount of skill. Though she does not have any 'martial arts' training, her natural talent and instincts combined with her oni blood more than make up for any downfall. Cooking:A secret Passion for Yuu is cooking! She will more than happily cook for almost anyone and enjoy it, even if she complains about it. She hopes one day to outclass even the best cook in Baji. Handy: Being raised by a seemingly lazy women who often went out a lot, Yuu was left to defend for herself most of the time and learned a lot of basic skills. Ranging from sewing, fixing a cart wheel to stopping a old roof from caving in! Youkai Mystic: When one is the adoptive daughter of the Legendary Youkai Mystic Kyuki Wakahisa, one is commonly expected to know a little something themselves. Yuu's knowledge is in demand given that her mother does not take requests, and given it often lands her good money she does not mind. Magical Abilities:N/A Familiars: N/A Ki Techniques/powers: N/A Weapons: A massive old blade of the oni tribes that has been mostly mistreated. She often wont carry the blade around unless traveling. Other Gear: Sake Jug: Filled with fruity low alcohol sake. Money wallet bag: Something to keep her money in Thin wire: Something she picked up for tieing things up and it can even be used to cut wood, works as a sort of weapon too. Youkai Survival kit: Basic things such as a small knife, fishing line, hooks, incense, fire lighters, super basic seals. Personality: Yuu may seem indifferent towards the world and its problems but deep down she cares, she just chooses not to show it on the surface. She loves good food more than anything else, even more than booze which she tries to avoid the strong stuff out of fear of becoming addicted and the ... Incident happening again. Despite her indifference towards modesty she has a shy weakness towards compliments. However her half blood nature shows when she is in battle as she enjoys a good fight more than anything, even holding back in an effort to make any fight last longer. Brief history: On a stormy night many years ago a Oni women came to the house of Kyuki, a old friend, and pleaded with the women to care for the small bundle that she held within her arms. Out of friendship the women agreed and take the bundle into her home, watching the Oni rest her sword against the side of the building before sprinting off into the storm. A sad look overcame the womens face as she unwrapped the bundle, reveling a small baby within with eyes of darkest night and brightest gold. That was the day that Yuu came to reside within the Legendery Youkai Mystics hut, being raised by her human mother whose methods while unorthodox were effective in raising a world wise child. Though she had only a few friends within the near by human village and was feared for her rather unqiue eyes, she grew up relatively safely and by the time she was a teen was fending off bandits and beasts from her home. On the day she had come of age a rather noble looking man came to their home begging with her mother to come join the Shima clan, however in a sudden twist of fate Kyuki gestured to Yuu "Why not take her. Tis good enough" She smirked, taking a puff from her pipe and staring down to a shocked Yuu. A rather heated argument came about from that involving words Yuu wished she had never said, as now she knows that Kyuki was only trying to get her a good life. Thankfully the very next day was when she noticed this, and so joined the Shima clan. Other: Kyuki, her mother, is currently traveling Her eyes are unique, even among Oni</s> <\|message\|>Jiang Baji Jiang Baji was more offended by the half-hearted introduction than he was by the passive aggression from Gin. Jiang's eyes were wide open and staring down at his friend when he heard him say whatever after introducing himself and immediately jumped in to correct him after Takumi was done speaking once more. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Gin, you can't do that, man! You gotta sell yourself! You have speak valiantly and with pride in your title!" Jiang moved behind his buddy, lifting him up and putting him on his shoulders like his kid brother. "Now we say "I'm Gin The Halfling, greatest blacksmith in all of Shima and soon to be all of Baji!" We'll working on your posing moves later." The azure warrior placed his friend down and got more serious as he put all of his focus on to Takumi's response. It was a possible route but it was very dangerous compared to the other two and they would have no help from Shima villages, nor we they have the righteous advantage of the law aiding them in a non-Shima territory. The group would more than likely be outnumbered if they were to go down that route and he wasn't sure if they would be capable of fighting together in order to preserve one another's life. "Well, I would hate to ask you to do something that you would rather not do. I'm not sure if we would be able to make it through if we get into a fight, but I like our odds so long as those two are by our side." He said, nodding his head towards Yuudai and Gin. Jiang then turns to his allies and asks for their input. "This is a group decision, going that third route seems to be potentially risking our lives. If anyone is against it, then I say we don't go at all. How do you all feel?" He asked while looking at his friends and awaiting their valued opinions.</s> <\|message\|>Kenji Takeda A quick-written farewell letter. That was all Lord Oja had to bid farewell to his vassal Kenji. The Yang was not at all displeased about this. His Lord was never a man of words, always keeping it forward and blunt in both oral and written. "Tell Lord Oja farewell as well." Kenji ordered the Oja messenger. "And to pray for our success." The messenger bowed and went on his way just as Kenji did along with his compatriots. The village also bid them farewell, some believing they were a lost cause while some believing they will return in one piece. Kenji really preferred the latter. In time, the guide had appeared and introduced himself as Takumi of the Kunteki Clan. He was from Naji but assured the group that will not get in the way of his job. Yuudai was the first to speak up then Jiang then the halfling Gin. Their conversation was mainly about where to search first and the three routes include the Shima village Uta, the village of Ru or the bandits' route. The third one was no doubt dangerous and so Jiang and Takumi turned to the others for the group's decision. "If I may," Kenji spoke up. "We already know the village of Uta may be helpful since likely everyone there would cooperate with our search. However, the thieves may know this and so might not go there at all... or they could and use magic to properly conceal themselves. The village of Ru, on the other hand, is their logical choice to flee since it is outside Shima influence. The villagers there, however, may require more to cooperate or they may be in agreement with the thieves' not to reveal their location." "The third route, while dangerous, may provide the most information since it is bandits and vagabonds who are most knowledgeable in the latest gossips of plots and schemes." Kenji finished. "Or so I believe. I am merely relaying my thoughts and I could be wrong in everything I said."</s> <\|message\|>Yuudai Wakahisa Yuudai was picking through what Lord Shima had decided to give them in terms of supplies and she had to admit that she was rather impressed by what they had gotten. The food was what she was most interested in of course, making sure to pick through the assortment and try and wonder just what she was going to do with it in terms of a proper meal. For a moment she looked back to the sword on her back, the old hilt of the blade poking out from the clothe it was covered in, wondering if she should obtain a new better blade than the one she had now. S shook that thought out of her mind, she was sure she would not even have to use it. Though she had been listening to the group and their talk on what to do she decided that just stating what each section would entail was not going to get them anywhere. Turning around she watched the silly poses that Jiang was putting on as he was thinking, she would never get use to that. Yuu decided to put the issue to rest "We are going to Uta to check up on some freindly sources, it will provide good leads and then we can head to Ru where they may have passed on their way out of Shima land. However if we must then we can go with the more shady areas, but I would like to avoid it as long as possible." Clearly she was not use to working in groups like this, as her indifferent tone was very much 'my way' about it.</s> <\|message\|>Metou Toribaba It was against Metou's nature to jump into a heated conversation if she wasn't needed, and although she had an opinion, so long as the others were still discussing the matter of their next target she felt no inclination to voice it. It seemed like too much energy to involve herself in Jiang's theatrics, or to get in Yuudai's face. However, once the latter tried to put her foot down on the side Metou disagreed with, she felt the need to intervene. "Going to Uta would be a waste of our time, and we don't have any time to spare," Metou said, looking primarily at Yuudai. "Whatever plans these thieves have for the stolen relics, they undoubtedly lie outside of Shima. Uta is perfectly capable of searching for the relics within their own borders, our skills are better used outside of Shima territory." After speaking, Metou felt her tone was probably more authoritative than necessary, but Yuudai acting the same to push everyone in a direction she disagreed with had made the old woman a bit defensive. She tried to lighten her tone a bit and continued, "We should go to Ru to look for clues and inform the leadership there of Shima's plight. Some den of thieves may hold more information, but considering the risk it should be a last resort." Metou felt flexible about that last part.</s> <\|message\|>Gin (pronounced 'Jin') Gin thought he had done pretty alright with introducing himself, at least for someone who had never actually met someone in his life that wasn't from Shima. He wasn't a great conversationalist that was for sure. Staring up at Takumi he sighed lightly when the guy took his greeting well, staring up at the man as he spoke before gasping when Jiang's voice suddenly raised up, his head immediately turning to him as he watched him all confused. "W-What? What are you-!" Before he could even protest he was suddenly lifted up in the air, his arms going out desperately trying to balance himself. Panicking at the strange action he kept his arms out in desperation, not wanting to touch him. "Ahh! I-I'm Gin the Halfling of Shima with blacksmith-uhh greatest blacksmith of Shima and soon Baji now please put me down!" Letting out a groan once he was finally placed back on his feet he dusted down his cloak and gave Jiang an annoyed look. He was not at all happy that he had been treated in such a fashion and was already starting to get sick of being treated like he was a little kid, even if he was short and young. All this guy seemed to do was pick on his height in different ways whether it was commenting straight out that he was short or trying to make him taller; either way, he hoped this wasn't going to become a regular thing. Grumbling as he folded his arms he looked to Jiang as he spoke, wondering at first if he was looking to someone else when he nodded in his direction before feeling confused all over again. Frowning, being asked what the best way to go was going to be a pretty useless question for him when he had never been beyond Shima, especially considering what he was. Looking to the others as they gave their input he soon shrugged himself, shaking his head. "I don't know where anywhere is so I don't know why you'd think I'd be able to give input too. Never been out this far before…"</s> <\|message\|>Jiang Baji Jiang was smiling as he held Gin in the air and hearing him repeat after The Dog made him feel even better. Confidence was always one of the most important qualities of his code. Though their mission was serious, he wanted the others to have fun and enjoy themselves as well and he hoped that Gin would lose his stutter as time moves forward. This world was harsh for half-Onis but that was something very similar to Jiang's own upbringing so he could perfectly sympathize with them. The debate on where to go was still up in the air and though he highly favored the dangerous path, he didn't want to go there unless everyone was able to commit with their whole heart. The old crow had a great counterpoint in regards to traveling to Uta. Ru was the next best place, foreign territory and a chance to increase a neighbor's bond with their lord as opposed to going to a sister village while they're already full on supplies and the like. "I agree with Metou, Ru would be the best option, so let's get on our way!"</s> <\|message\|>Tarou Sasaki Tarou would travel along with the group, quietly and peacefully. He had always enjoyed the great outdoors and would try his best to make a painting or two along the way. Of course, it would never last long since they had to keep moving, so it usually put him down quite a bit. Nevertheless, he was enjoying the journey that they were having, and made no complaints whatsoever. It was at this time that Tarou and the group met a guide. The guide was quite nice, much to Tarou surprise. He was imagining some type of older gentleman who had issues or maybe just some kind of spiritual being that just knew the land very well, inside and out. He listened to the mans words, smiling. "I honestly trust you all in what decision you make. I will follow either way." He said, voicing his opinion. It wasn't much to go on, but it was a better answer than nothing.</s>	<\|message\|>Yuudai Wakahisa Yuudai let the rusty slab of iron drop to the ground, its blunt tip digging into the ground from the sheer weight and causing it to stand upright. "Strange I thought I mentioned the reason why we should do to Uta first." Crossing her arms she had to think for a moment, almost as if trying to put it another way. It seemed like they may have misunderstood to Yuudai, after all more than one person questioned her so that must have been it. She didn't think that they were disagreeing with her at the moment. "It is the most likely place to get information, it is friendly and the closet to have been set up as a base." She turned around to take out a piece of dried meat from one of the packs so that she could have a snack. "But-," She used her fanged teeth to bite and rip into the strip of dried meat. "-if you really want to go to Ru then let us hurry and leave."</s>
<\|description\|>Tarou Sasaki Clan: Sasaki Clan Title: The Rising Sun(Symbolic in the Sasaki Clan for the Son and Heir, as they are the new dawn for the Clan.) Gender: Male Age: 23 Race: Neko Height: 6'1 Weight: 115.081 Ilbs./52.2 Kg Appearance: Occupation:Heir of the Sasaki/Scholar Notable Skills: Enhanced Senses: As a Neko, Tarou has enhanced senses, just like a cat. Unfortunately he is still young, so his senses are quite unskilled compared to older Neko. However, luckily, his are more sensitive than a human beings. Swordplay: As the son and heir of the Clan, Tarou is expected to learn the ways of the sword, so that when he rules, he may uphold his authority. The fighting style of the Sasaki Clan mainly consists of fast and precise movements, with the sword held with two hands. Aside from this, the Clan's ruling family is taught how to disarm with their sword, if the situation calls for it. He still learns to this day, mainly because he still has MUCH to learn. Magical Abilities: NA Familiars: Summoning - Neko sen'nin: The Royal Family can summon the Neko sen'nin, a small cat with human-like clothing on it. Although the cat has NO combat experience, it is mainly used for advisement and information. Ki Techniques/powers: Feather Weight: It's used for general purposes, outside of combat, mainly because it requires a lot of concentration to use. It's most helpful for reaching the top of large buildings and key locations, but can also be used to increase speed, if need be. Weapons: Sasaki Clan Katana - A regular katana, with a bit more durability than most. The only special thing about this blade is that it is the Sasaki Clan's most treasured blade and it's creative design on the hilt and cover. Other Gear: Just some books and painting kits. Personality: Young, brave, and a yearning to learn, Tarou is the ideal heir to a clans leader. Of course, he is not without arrogance, considering he has much to learn in his young age. Perhaps the most notable thing of Tarou's personality is his dedication to not only to the Shima Clan, but to his honor as well. Brief history: Born under the Head of the Sasaki Clan, Tarou was raised to become the next Daimyo. At a very young age, Tarou took a liking to Fine Arts and books, wanting to take a more scholarly approach to life. Although this was accepted, he was still expected to learn the Way of the Sword, and he did so for many years of his teenage life. Growing up was very strange for Tarou, mainly because he did not understand the Sasaki Clans devotion to the Shima Clan. Of course, this would change over time, as he became devoted to the Shima Clan, just as much as others in the Sasaki had. As life continued, Tarou would eventually grow to the age of twenty-three, ready to take the throne and title of Daimyo. Of course, the Shima Clan would lose their relics and call aid in order to regain their lost artifacts. Tarou, seeing this as an opportunity to bring his Clan honor and recognition, would offer himself to go on this quest. With his fathers blessing and the family sword in hand, Tarou would leave at once to the neighboring Shima Clan, ready to take his first leap into adventure... Other: NA</s> <\|message\|>Jiang Baji Jiang Baji was more offended by the half-hearted introduction than he was by the passive aggression from Gin. Jiang's eyes were wide open and staring down at his friend when he heard him say whatever after introducing himself and immediately jumped in to correct him after Takumi was done speaking once more. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Gin, you can't do that, man! You gotta sell yourself! You have speak valiantly and with pride in your title!" Jiang moved behind his buddy, lifting him up and putting him on his shoulders like his kid brother. "Now we say "I'm Gin The Halfling, greatest blacksmith in all of Shima and soon to be all of Baji!" We'll working on your posing moves later." The azure warrior placed his friend down and got more serious as he put all of his focus on to Takumi's response. It was a possible route but it was very dangerous compared to the other two and they would have no help from Shima villages, nor we they have the righteous advantage of the law aiding them in a non-Shima territory. The group would more than likely be outnumbered if they were to go down that route and he wasn't sure if they would be capable of fighting together in order to preserve one another's life. "Well, I would hate to ask you to do something that you would rather not do. I'm not sure if we would be able to make it through if we get into a fight, but I like our odds so long as those two are by our side." He said, nodding his head towards Yuudai and Gin. Jiang then turns to his allies and asks for their input. "This is a group decision, going that third route seems to be potentially risking our lives. If anyone is against it, then I say we don't go at all. How do you all feel?" He asked while looking at his friends and awaiting their valued opinions.</s> <\|message\|>Kenji Takeda A quick-written farewell letter. That was all Lord Oja had to bid farewell to his vassal Kenji. The Yang was not at all displeased about this. His Lord was never a man of words, always keeping it forward and blunt in both oral and written. "Tell Lord Oja farewell as well." Kenji ordered the Oja messenger. "And to pray for our success." The messenger bowed and went on his way just as Kenji did along with his compatriots. The village also bid them farewell, some believing they were a lost cause while some believing they will return in one piece. Kenji really preferred the latter. In time, the guide had appeared and introduced himself as Takumi of the Kunteki Clan. He was from Naji but assured the group that will not get in the way of his job. Yuudai was the first to speak up then Jiang then the halfling Gin. Their conversation was mainly about where to search first and the three routes include the Shima village Uta, the village of Ru or the bandits' route. The third one was no doubt dangerous and so Jiang and Takumi turned to the others for the group's decision. "If I may," Kenji spoke up. "We already know the village of Uta may be helpful since likely everyone there would cooperate with our search. However, the thieves may know this and so might not go there at all... or they could and use magic to properly conceal themselves. The village of Ru, on the other hand, is their logical choice to flee since it is outside Shima influence. The villagers there, however, may require more to cooperate or they may be in agreement with the thieves' not to reveal their location." "The third route, while dangerous, may provide the most information since it is bandits and vagabonds who are most knowledgeable in the latest gossips of plots and schemes." Kenji finished. "Or so I believe. I am merely relaying my thoughts and I could be wrong in everything I said."</s> <\|message\|>Yuudai Wakahisa Yuudai was picking through what Lord Shima had decided to give them in terms of supplies and she had to admit that she was rather impressed by what they had gotten. The food was what she was most interested in of course, making sure to pick through the assortment and try and wonder just what she was going to do with it in terms of a proper meal. For a moment she looked back to the sword on her back, the old hilt of the blade poking out from the clothe it was covered in, wondering if she should obtain a new better blade than the one she had now. S shook that thought out of her mind, she was sure she would not even have to use it. Though she had been listening to the group and their talk on what to do she decided that just stating what each section would entail was not going to get them anywhere. Turning around she watched the silly poses that Jiang was putting on as he was thinking, she would never get use to that. Yuu decided to put the issue to rest "We are going to Uta to check up on some freindly sources, it will provide good leads and then we can head to Ru where they may have passed on their way out of Shima land. However if we must then we can go with the more shady areas, but I would like to avoid it as long as possible." Clearly she was not use to working in groups like this, as her indifferent tone was very much 'my way' about it.</s> <\|message\|>Metou Toribaba It was against Metou's nature to jump into a heated conversation if she wasn't needed, and although she had an opinion, so long as the others were still discussing the matter of their next target she felt no inclination to voice it. It seemed like too much energy to involve herself in Jiang's theatrics, or to get in Yuudai's face. However, once the latter tried to put her foot down on the side Metou disagreed with, she felt the need to intervene. "Going to Uta would be a waste of our time, and we don't have any time to spare," Metou said, looking primarily at Yuudai. "Whatever plans these thieves have for the stolen relics, they undoubtedly lie outside of Shima. Uta is perfectly capable of searching for the relics within their own borders, our skills are better used outside of Shima territory." After speaking, Metou felt her tone was probably more authoritative than necessary, but Yuudai acting the same to push everyone in a direction she disagreed with had made the old woman a bit defensive. She tried to lighten her tone a bit and continued, "We should go to Ru to look for clues and inform the leadership there of Shima's plight. Some den of thieves may hold more information, but considering the risk it should be a last resort." Metou felt flexible about that last part.</s> <\|message\|>Gin (pronounced 'Jin') Gin thought he had done pretty alright with introducing himself, at least for someone who had never actually met someone in his life that wasn't from Shima. He wasn't a great conversationalist that was for sure. Staring up at Takumi he sighed lightly when the guy took his greeting well, staring up at the man as he spoke before gasping when Jiang's voice suddenly raised up, his head immediately turning to him as he watched him all confused. "W-What? What are you-!" Before he could even protest he was suddenly lifted up in the air, his arms going out desperately trying to balance himself. Panicking at the strange action he kept his arms out in desperation, not wanting to touch him. "Ahh! I-I'm Gin the Halfling of Shima with blacksmith-uhh greatest blacksmith of Shima and soon Baji now please put me down!" Letting out a groan once he was finally placed back on his feet he dusted down his cloak and gave Jiang an annoyed look. He was not at all happy that he had been treated in such a fashion and was already starting to get sick of being treated like he was a little kid, even if he was short and young. All this guy seemed to do was pick on his height in different ways whether it was commenting straight out that he was short or trying to make him taller; either way, he hoped this wasn't going to become a regular thing. Grumbling as he folded his arms he looked to Jiang as he spoke, wondering at first if he was looking to someone else when he nodded in his direction before feeling confused all over again. Frowning, being asked what the best way to go was going to be a pretty useless question for him when he had never been beyond Shima, especially considering what he was. Looking to the others as they gave their input he soon shrugged himself, shaking his head. "I don't know where anywhere is so I don't know why you'd think I'd be able to give input too. Never been out this far before…"</s> <\|message\|>Jiang Baji Jiang was smiling as he held Gin in the air and hearing him repeat after The Dog made him feel even better. Confidence was always one of the most important qualities of his code. Though their mission was serious, he wanted the others to have fun and enjoy themselves as well and he hoped that Gin would lose his stutter as time moves forward. This world was harsh for half-Onis but that was something very similar to Jiang's own upbringing so he could perfectly sympathize with them. The debate on where to go was still up in the air and though he highly favored the dangerous path, he didn't want to go there unless everyone was able to commit with their whole heart. The old crow had a great counterpoint in regards to traveling to Uta. Ru was the next best place, foreign territory and a chance to increase a neighbor's bond with their lord as opposed to going to a sister village while they're already full on supplies and the like. "I agree with Metou, Ru would be the best option, so let's get on our way!"</s>	<\|message\|>Tarou Sasaki Tarou would travel along with the group, quietly and peacefully. He had always enjoyed the great outdoors and would try his best to make a painting or two along the way. Of course, it would never last long since they had to keep moving, so it usually put him down quite a bit. Nevertheless, he was enjoying the journey that they were having, and made no complaints whatsoever. It was at this time that Tarou and the group met a guide. The guide was quite nice, much to Tarou surprise. He was imagining some type of older gentleman who had issues or maybe just some kind of spiritual being that just knew the land very well, inside and out. He listened to the mans words, smiling. "I honestly trust you all in what decision you make. I will follow either way." He said, voicing his opinion. It wasn't much to go on, but it was a better answer than nothing.</s>

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<\|description\|>Dexter Kennedy The Captain Gender: Male Age: 28 Sexuality: Off Limits .3. Appearance: Dexter is tall with an athletic build. His light skin is riddled abstract tattoos, all down his back, neck, and arms. His intense steely-blue gave often intimidates the younger crew members. Personality: "Distant" would be a good word to sum him up. Dexter, although he adages his crew, has a hard time showing it. His serious expression rarely breaks, and even when it does it's only with a subtle, sly smile that is easy to misinterpret. The Leviathan and crew are his pride and joy, all that he claims to live for. He let's his shipmates do as they please, and normally lets the do all the robbing, plundering and fighting themselves. Although rare, he will occasionally talk to the members of his crew when they are having difficulties dealing with emotion, which is kind of odd seeing as it appears he has virtually none of his own. However cold and prickly he may seem from the outside, his desire is to make a positive change in the world; so, therefore, there must be a kind person in there, even if he hides it well. Weapon of Choice: For the most part? Whatever is handy. He keeps both a simple knife and flintlock pistol on his person, though he can easily adapt to any weapon he needs to "borrow". Other: N/A Revealed History: N/A Stats: Strength: 6 Dexterity: 5 Intelligence: 7 Social: 4 Crafting: 2 Fighting: 5</s> <\|message\|>Shiyami Eiji Shiyami Shiyami couldn't help but to mentally sigh as he stared out the triple-layered tempered glass in the captain's quarters. He glanced down at the table in front of him, with multiple papers scattered everywhere on it. There were written reports of all variety mixed in with what appeared to be multiple blueprints of different ships of the government fleet. The first and foremost on was the blueprint of the warship Sovereign, the one he was residing in. Towards the corner of the desk however, was a small, weathered envelope, containing two parchments. One was a rather childish drawing, of three people. The other, was a more well-done drawing, of the same three people. Looking at it, Shiyami couldn't help but to smile faintly. "I wonder what those two little rascals are up to?" Muttering these words to himself, he was reaching over to pick up the envelope, when a knock at his door interrupted him. Quickly pocketing it, she called out, "Enter." A soldier came in, clicked his heels, and saluted. "The first mate requests your presence on the bridge, sir!". Shiyami sighed aloud this time, before rubbing the back of his neck tiredly. "There's no need to call me sir." un-energetically speaking these words that sounds like they have been spoken once to often, Shiyami stood up, before walking towards the bridge. Walking down the corridor, Shiyami kept his eyes shifting, making sure to keep every detail memorized. However, no matter how times he seen it, he still felt amazed that this metal behemoth of an airship actually flew. Thing should be heavy as hell. When he arrived, the crew onboard all saluted, with the commander calling out, "Officer on deck!". "At ease that shit..." Annoyed, Shiyami muttered the usual lines, with the response of, "I see you still dislike formalities." coming from the right. Glancing over, his eyes stopping at his observer, the merc shrugged. "Formalities are a tool to be used only when required." Tossing back his words, he walked up, before looking at the map, before checking the ship's status report. "Alright, we need to refuel and resupply the Sovereign. Take us to The Crumbling Keep." Calling out his order, the Sovereign started to move, slowly getting up to speed.</s> <\|message\|>Angelo Ortega (but everyone just calls him Angel) Angelo sighed as he hung out in the corner listening to the captain explain the plan of their next raid and when he said that their was no point in being sneaky Angelo had to point out something. "for future reference its not that im not sneaky its that my way usually leaves a trail of bodies" Angelo explained to the captain since Angelo used claws Angelo usual way of killing while unseen meant to literally tear out someone's throat. it was easy with the sharpness of his claws and the fact that when he did they couldn't scream and died in a matter of seconds but because of that method their was a lot of blood and bodies and by the time Angelo gets halfway inside somewhere the alarm sounds. "as far as im concerned to what you feel is right captain ill kill either way" Angelo said simply glad he had already taken a shower before coming here, his claws usually end up smelling for hours if he doesn't shower before putting them on...</s> <\|message\|>Winston Hollands Winston looked along the various charts that they have laid out. His eyes followed the charts. He remained silent since they left the docks, but his silence was broken by his plan. "We can't do a full scale assault, but we can't do a stealth mission with everyone. There are a few... ruffians among us," he said, his eyes shifting to Angelo "but I digress. Winter, Prince, Taran, and I to sneak in, and check to see if they have any super secret tide-turning weapon. We disable that, and everyone else enters. They're going to see our huge ass mothafuckin' ship a mile off, so we need a large scale fight to happen while we sneak in." Winston had said the description of the ship jokingly, but in a poor impression of the captain. "But it will most likely damage the ship. If we don't want to damage our huge ass mothafuckin' ship, we need to park out on a nearby island, and then drift on boats onto the other island. Which is pretty dangerous, if you ask me." He said, still carrying the joke with him.</s> <\|message\|>Aubrey "Captain, what exactly are we after?" Dexter's eyes rested on Winter for a moment. He tuned Jax out, who seemed to be having some sort of ecliptic seizure, or perhaps was just laughing at something. He wasn't sure what was so funny. He pulled out a blueprint that was covered by some other papers and laid it on top. One finger tapped the paper as he spoke, his mind seemingly elsewhere. "This single creation, one that is about the size of small bookshelf, has more firepower then our ship." He paused again, letting his words sink it. He could tell some of his crew were preoccupied with something else, but he was not curious in the least. Perhaps at a different time, he would have looked more into it and discovered what the issue was, but at the moment he was simply to focused on the task at hand to care. "I don't know if we will be able to use these things." He said, "Our understanding of the technologies used are just not enough. However, we cannot allow something with this much power to be used to the military's advantage. Should they get these things up and running, and find a way to reproduce them, we wouldn't have a chance. If nothing else, we need to destroy them." Winston spoke up, and the corner of Dexter's mouth twitched when he repeated the phrase 'huge ass mothafunkin' ship' several times. Ah, that's what was so funny. "Yes, actually, that's exactly what I was thinking, Winston. Thank you. We have three paddle boats that are currently functional. Each one can hold about four people, plus perhaps an Aubrey." Aubrey crossed his arms and snorted in distaste, not appreciating the captain's dry sense of humor. Dexter continued, "So, Winston, Winter, Prince and Taran will take one and be our stealth team. Everyone else will create a diversion. Any more questions?"</s> <\|message\|>Jax Morinth Jax She couldn't stop laughing hearing Winston say the words over and over several times. Were they trying to make her pass out from lack of Oxygen? Maybe so. "Ahhaha, hahhh" Jax wiped tears from her eyes and giggled a little bit, trying to shake off the laughing fit. Unfortunately, due to her loud, obnoxious laughter, she hadn't heard most of what the others had said, except when the captain said something about Aubrey. Her gazed turned to Aubrey who crossed his arms and pouted a little. She felt bad for him always being made fun of for his size and wanted to speak up but knew better to speak against the captain, that was treachery. "Anymore questions?" The captain asked. Jax turned her head to look at the captain. "Cap'n what do you mean by diversion? I thought I heard Winny say something about entering after the stealth team... or did you want us to create a diversion after they entered? Or before" Jax scratched her head in confusion, trying to make sense of the few things that she had heard and the things the captain had said. "I don't get it..."</s> <\|message\|>Prince [PRINCE & KAI] Prince sighed as he saw the plans layed out around the table. He wasn't really one for plans but he had to listen to the captain. He listened intently, nudging Kai beside him who was in his own world. 'Stealth team?' He thought, silently chuckling to himself. 'Right.' He was surprised they put him in stealth, considering the amount of trouble he causes on a daily basis. "Large machines, high security and possibly getting killed?" Prince asked. "Sounds like my kind of place," he grinned. Kai huffed, rolling his eyes. "You better not get yourself killed," he said, crossing his arms. Kai grinned, wrapping an arm around Kai. "Of course I won't," Prince grinned.</s> <\|message\|>Winter Winter Winter's attention was drawn to Winston as he started fleshing out a plan to get in and get out with as few complications as possible. It seemed plausible… but a childish part of her begged for an alternative where she could more actively avoid Taran. (She also wanted to raise an eyebrow at the implication there was anything discreet about Prince or Taran, but she supposed everything was relative when it came to this crew.) Winter quashed that part immediately, frustration growing. This was ridiculous. All he'd done was give her a stolen necklace. She shouldn't have been avoiding him or getting so worked up about a silly trinket when it probably didn't even mean anything. Besides, it was Taran. Taran who was never serious about anything and was likely trying to bribe her so she wouldn't poison his next meal. Against her better judgement, she risked a glance over at the crew mate in question. It was the way he'd looked at her when he'd done it though. How his hand had lingered on hers for just a moment too long… Winter was absolutely not blushing. She didn't blush. She snapped her eyes over to Jax when the girl spoke. Thankful for something else to think about, Winter contemplated what she said. "Diversions tend to work best when done before the criminal act," she said. She was relieved to find her voice steady when she talked. "The four of us will go in, and the rest will stay out, doing what they do best." The corner of Winter's mouth quirked up as she looked at Jax. The young mechanic (and a good portion of the crew) would certainly enjoy the chance to wreak some havoc. "If I'm understanding correctly?" She directed this at the captain, silently asking for clarification.</s> <\|message\|>Taran Greene Taran felt his cheeks flush red. Alone...in a small boat...with Winter? The very person he had spent all day and night trying to avoid? Granted Prince and Winston would be there as well, but still. He was debating asking what level of injured would excused one from the mission. Was a broken leg enough? Or would one still be expected to perform? He heard Winter speak and he half expected Winter to disagree with the two of them being on the same team, but it never came. Perhaps he was getting too worked up, maybe she just thought of the neckless as a gift from a friend...which they were...right? Or maybe she didn't mind him...maybe she wanted them to be...in the boat...together...with Prince and Winston. Despite the flaw in his logic, the thought did make him perk up slightly. "Alright, fine, drop me into certain death guys, what is it? Tuesday already?" Said Taran, finally having processed enough of the conversation to have something to say about it. "But, in all serouseness Cap'in, you can count on me and Prince to save the day, amIright? Up top!" He held out his hand to the captain, expecting a high five with a grin on his face. When all he got was a glare, he kept the grin going "Well, that is alright, self five it is," He brought his hands together in front of his face creating a loud clapping sound. Taran then brought his hands down to his lap, looking very pleased with himself.</s>	<\|message\|>Dexter Kennedy Dexter sighed. For whatever reason, explaining this whole ordeal to them seemed to be way too much work. "The diversion team will move in at the same time as the stealth group. Although it would be nice if we could send the stealth team in to... disable the security, I highly doubt that would be successful. If we draw the attention to one side of the building we're after, say here-" his finger tapped a spot on the map, '-then the guards will be forced to gather there, making it easier for the smaller team to get inside." "Once you're in, you will need to be quick. Find wherever they keep all the equipment. If you can't take it with you, break it. There are going to be several scientists and mechanics there, and some of them may be actively working. A large majority of these people are working for the government against their own free will. As much as I would like to get all of them out of there, it's simply too much of an added risk. However, try to avoid getting them killed, if you can." Taran seemed excited about something, and held up his hand for a high-five. Dexter simply looked at him, then the boy clapped his hands together and sat back down, looking accomplished. "Okay, then. If there are no more questions, you're free to go." He checked the watch on his wrist. "You have about two and a half hours."</s>
<\|description\|>Shiyami Eiji Shiyami's Voice Appearance: (Another Image) Nicknames/Titles: Harbinger, Reaper, Immortal Vampire Gender: Male Age: 21 Sexuality: Heterosexual Personality: If you were to meet Shiyami on a normal day, you would not be able to discern anything about him. He is kind, with a chivalrous attitude, and has a way with words. Not a single piece of information would be leaked. You can't tell whether he's nervous, impatient, or even bored! However, take your eyes off him in a crowd, and you will never find him again, easily blending in by acting similar to the locals. However, when he is dealing with his contracts, he would do it without remorse, and with brutal efficiency. His skills, combined with his accumulated experience in his occupation, has allowed for some ridiculous tricks and aces hidden. For one, he weapons. Versatile, effective in many situations, and easily hidden and carried. Another would be his combat capabilities. Those lucky enough to witness his battles and live, mention reloading all twelve rounds by throwing rounds into the air, emptying the revolvers, and swinging them out, collecting the airborne paper cartridges in the now empty chambers, before closing it up, all in a short time span. Another mentions his opponent's bullets being shot right out of the air, and any bullet that haven't been deflected by another bullet, is diverted by blade. Even moreso, is that he doesn't always use his own weapons. Half the time he utilizes his opponents weapons. He seems to also specialize in group combat. Meaning in a 1v10, he, as the lone fighter, has the advantage over the ten. There is one thing very, very, very dangerous regarding him. If it ever so happens that someone manages to draw blood, or harm him...well.......good luck. There has been only one witness report. Every single person within the vicinity was slaughtered, with utter brutality, as some in extremely horrifying and inhumane methods. Weapon of Choice: Dual Apache Revolvers. Specially designed, and completely custom made of a weapon, they are one reason why Shiyami is feared. Unafraid to let loose with heavy punches, before utilizing the revolver's six round chamber to its fullest. Even during more stealthier operations, he can casually go by his target, suddenly slice through the artery at the neck, and be on his way while his victim is thrashing on the ground drowning in their own blood. However, one thing should be noted is that Shiyami is extremely proficient with a multitude of weapons. He is known for disarming his opponent, before using their own weapon against them. Other: Apache revolvers are an actual thing. The link is to wikipedia(and image). It really fired black powder rounds. The nickname 'Immortal Vampire' refers to being utterly drenched in blood, with dismembered corpses in the surroundings. Stats: Strength: 5 Dexterity: 5 Intelligence: 5 Social: 4 Crafting: 1 Fighting: 9</s> <\|message\|>Winter Winter Winter was content as she ate, listening to the sounds of her crew. Meals were the one time no one was rambling on, and yet they still managed to cause a ruckus with all their slurping and munching. Winter just smiled to herself. Taran finished his meal earlier than usual and started running his mouth about something or other. Winter didn't pay it any mind though. At least Taran was cleaning up after himself this time. Then he turned back to the group and she saw him pull out a necklace. It was a delicate thing with a silver chain meant to look like tree branches and bronze flowers set in different intervals. It was beautiful. But then Taran walked over to Winter's side and picked up her hand to gently curl her fingers around it. The cold bite of the metal was a hard contrast with the warmth of his hand, seeping into her own. She was frozen as Taran shifted his weight, clearly awkward. He made some poor excuse to leave and fled the room. Winter's mind was blank save for a long string of curses in every language she knew. She jumped when the sounds of Winston enter the room and her mind snapped back to reality. Which meant she was thinking again. Winter felt her skin begin to heat and suddenly all she wanted was to get away. "Clean up when you're done," she told the others in clipped tones. At the same time she pushed herself up, her chair scraping along the floor. Winter walked quickly out the door, not looking at anyone. She didn't slow her pace until she reached her room, the door slamming shut behind her. The entire time, the necklace she'd thought was beautiful only a few moments before lay heavy in her hand.</s> <\|message\|>Aubrey It had been roughly 32 hours since the Leviathan had departed from Ballard. It was a relief to have that place behind them. Dexter hoped they wouldn't have to dock there again, because the whole place made him twitch. He liked things neat, clean, orderly... and Ballard was the exact opposite of all those things. Although that kind of place was common, he was very careful to stay on the ship when they visited those types of places. Now he sat around the mapping table with his crew. It was a little before noon, after the crew had cleaned up from breakfast and everyone gathered in the navigation room, where most of their plans were discussed. The sat around the circular table, everyone facing inwards to make it easier to converse. Dexter spread his charts in front of his crew, letting them examine them on their own. The crew looked well-fed, and some of them had even taken the time to bathe. With the exception of Aubrey, who Dexter noticed was wearing a bandage on his neck, everyone appeared to be in good health. When everyone had taken their seat, Dexter spoke. "In about three hours, we will be arriving at the location of our next raid." He said, "It's a remote island, and I only heard of it through a special connection. Gathering info on it has proven difficult, so there is a lot we might not have on the place." He gestured to the papers on the table. "This is everything I have. Although the name of the place isn't officially documented, it had been referred to as The Crumbling Keep." Aubrey opened his mouth like he was about to speak, but Dexter cut him off by raising a hand. "No, Aubrey, I don't know why they call it that." The boy pouted and sat back, and Dexter continued. "We can expect high security. This place is meant to hold some very advanced... inventions. Large, robotic weapons are housed there, though it's hard to say if they are just being stored or if they are active and being put to use. Either way, this is going to be a tough one. We will not only be worrying about the possibility of these machines coming after us, but there is also a large amount of human guards. Ideally, we would get in without being noticed, take a few things, and then get out. However, you have all proven over and over that you are not good at keeping things low-key. That, and the added problem of that we have a huge ass mothafuckin' ship trying to sneak up on a small island, there is about a 90% chance of a confrontation." He paused to scan the faces of his comrades, judging their reactions thus far.</s> <\|message\|>Jax Morinth Jax She had spent the last day or so working on enhancing her eye piece so it could read heat signatures. But for some reason she just couldn't get it to work and it was terribly frustrating. However, she refused to give up and kept trying. Jax took a deep breath, her hat was off, her hair a mess and her arms and face covered in sweat and grime from working on different things. "I need to bathe. badly, I smell like a military dog" Te pirate took off toward the lavatory and stripped, setting her nice gloves aside carefully to get in the tub she had filled prior to removing all her clothes. It wasn't necessarily warm water, but it wasn't freezing either, she and a few other mechanics on the ship had designed a system to make it so the water wasn't icy cold when you had to wash off. Once she was finished, dried off and put her clothes back on, she was notified that the captain had called a meeting... and she was late for it. Crap, why me? Not only had she missed breakfast that morning, but she wasted time bathing and now had to go face the captain, after being late for the meeting. Jax ran to where she knew everyone would be and crept in and took her place beside Aubrey who she smiled at and started to listen to what the captain had to say. Curiously she examined the charts and maps the captain had laid out on the table, what the heck were the charts for? Then he mentioned their raid in about 3 hours in a place called The Crumbling Keep and she knew it would be the perfect place to test her Hand Cannon. She also couldn't wait to take a lot at the "advanced" machinery that the place supposedly held. Once he was finished, Jax broke out into laughter over the fact that he had said huge as mothafuckin' ship, that didn't seem like something her captain would say, it didn't match his usual tone or expressions at all.</s> <\|message\|>Winter Winter Winter was completely focused on the captain's explanation. Or at least, that's how she looked on the outside. In reality she was trying very hard to look anywhere but at Taran. She'd holed herself up in her room for the remainder of the previous evening, only leaving this morning to make the crew breakfast. As soon as that was done, she left the food in the kitchen for the others to find, instead of waiting for them to arrive as she normally would. It was cowardly but Winter honestly had no idea what to do with this situation. Taran… he… Winter tightened her fists behind her back, nails nearly cutting into her palms. The necklace was hidden in her desk drawer, and her mind kept on wandering back to it. The captain stopped talking and it took a moment for Winter's attention to snap back to reality. The raid. Weapons. High security. She contemplated the situation as all of his words finally registered. "Captain," she started, "what exactly are we after?" It must've been something of exceptional value for him to risk such security.</s> <\|message\|>Taran Greene Winter and Taran probably would have had a better time of avoiding each other if they hadn't tried to avoid each other in the same way. His arms still ached from the half hour in which he hid under one of the tables while Winter cooked breakfast. Usually, he'd send one of the others in to do a look out before he would enter the kitchen, before denying that that was what he was doing. But, on that morning, Taran thought he was up early enough that he wouldn't risk seeing the girl. He was wrong. When he dared enter the hallway, he'd usually end up climbing something because he thought it was Winter coming around the corner, usually it wasn't. He spent the last thirty-two hours kicking himself. Why did he feel the urge to give her that stupid necklace? No only was it the most valuable piece of jewelry that he took that night, but it made things weird. He glanced over at Winter, who was almost pointedly not looking at him. It was dumb, and he wondered if the problem could be fixed by simply asking for it back? Or would that make it worse? 'She isn't that great anyway' he thought to himself ' With her face, and her hair that always smells nice and her eyes that --' he thought was cut off as she spoke and he promptly looked at the Captain, his face flushing slightly having zero idea about what the conversation had been about up til this point. He'd just have to ask Aubrey before they got there... The sound of a meeting was what drew her. After watching the 'Pirates' she decided that she should probably make herself known, help where she could, and hopefully keep them from killing her. Both straight out and by their own incompetence. Kara Saun situated herself in a vent with a clear line of sight towards the man who must have been the captain. If she was being fair, he didn't look nearly old enough, but...on the other hand, this Peter Pan man seemed to have a whole ship of lost little children.</s>	<\|message\|>Shiyami Eiji Shiyami Shiyami couldn't help but to mentally sigh as he stared out the triple-layered tempered glass in the captain's quarters. He glanced down at the table in front of him, with multiple papers scattered everywhere on it. There were written reports of all variety mixed in with what appeared to be multiple blueprints of different ships of the government fleet. The first and foremost on was the blueprint of the warship Sovereign, the one he was residing in. Towards the corner of the desk however, was a small, weathered envelope, containing two parchments. One was a rather childish drawing, of three people. The other, was a more well-done drawing, of the same three people. Looking at it, Shiyami couldn't help but to smile faintly. "I wonder what those two little rascals are up to?" Muttering these words to himself, he was reaching over to pick up the envelope, when a knock at his door interrupted him. Quickly pocketing it, she called out, "Enter." A soldier came in, clicked his heels, and saluted. "The first mate requests your presence on the bridge, sir!". Shiyami sighed aloud this time, before rubbing the back of his neck tiredly. "There's no need to call me sir." un-energetically speaking these words that sounds like they have been spoken once to often, Shiyami stood up, before walking towards the bridge. Walking down the corridor, Shiyami kept his eyes shifting, making sure to keep every detail memorized. However, no matter how times he seen it, he still felt amazed that this metal behemoth of an airship actually flew. Thing should be heavy as hell. When he arrived, the crew onboard all saluted, with the commander calling out, "Officer on deck!". "At ease that shit..." Annoyed, Shiyami muttered the usual lines, with the response of, "I see you still dislike formalities." coming from the right. Glancing over, his eyes stopping at his observer, the merc shrugged. "Formalities are a tool to be used only when required." Tossing back his words, he walked up, before looking at the map, before checking the ship's status report. "Alright, we need to refuel and resupply the Sovereign. Take us to The Crumbling Keep." Calling out his order, the Sovereign started to move, slowly getting up to speed.</s>
<\|description\|>Kirstie D. Emeri 'The King of Pirates? That has such an ugly ring to it.... No, I am going to be the Queen of Pirates!' Gender: Female Nicknames/Aliases: Emi, by her family and others Epithet: N/A Age: 18 Bounty: 0 Hometown: West Blue, in a little island called Quintana. Pirate Crew: Now recruiting! Role: Captain. Abilities & Skills: She is nimble and has a great deal of stamina, but as far as physical abilities go, that's pretty much the only thing she's capable at. Her punches are like those of a simple woman, even so, she has become adept in her own martial art that mostly uses her speed, and her opponent's strength, to her advantage. She isn't exactly imposing as a captain, however, once she gets serious, she can be as commanding or imposing as needed be. She also uses the powers of her Devil Fruit to her advantage. Name: Oto oto no Mi Type: Logia Effects: It allows the user to transform into, manipulate and generate sound waves. The user can also 'ride' the sound waves. It also makes her intangible to anyone that cannot use Haki. Techniques: * Oto Dash: This allows her to run at sonic speeds. * Transformation: She is able to turn into sound waves and move around like that, however, the downside of this is that she cannot attack * Oto Strike: Charging one of her body parts with the speed of sound, she is able to strike people at sonic speed and simulate superstrength. * Oto Frequency: She is able to change the sound frequency of whatever is in her surroundings. * Oto Wave: Launching super thick sound waves towards an opponent, she is able to send them away and cause huge damage. * Oto Boom!: Making sound waves compress and the explode, she is able to disable any opponent in her near vicinity. This, however, also affects the people on her side as well as herself. Weaknesses: Depending on where she is, she is more or less fast, as well as not being able to bounce sound off walls. Her ears are especially sensible, and making some kind of sound that would disrupt her own sound waves will enable anyone to hit her. Anything that causes sound can also hurt her, as well as wind. Personality: A brat and a definite spoiled girl, Emeri is a girl that does nothing but follow her own whims. That said, she has an incredible sense of camaraderie, and she is the kind to turn the whims of her companions into her own whims. This great sense of camaraderie will make her go to stupid lengths for those she calls her friends, but even then, she knows full well just how important things can be at a given time, and even then, it would seem she does not fully put in all of her seriousness in the line to show her opponent that she isn't playing around. There are only few times in where she can actually show just how serious she is, and those times are when the lives of others are in the line, as long as she knows them personally of course. She holds a believe that a pirate should be cruel and detestable and as such, she acts like that always while on top of her ship. She will try and give orders in a 'serious' tone that would seem is actually her usual joking around, as well as make decisions that would actually be fitting for a heartless pirate captain. She also has an exaggerated laugh that puts emphasis in the fact that she is trying to be evil. Biography: Daughter of the Warlord of the Sea, Kirstie D. Alexei, the Navy keeps tabs on her for that same heritage. The fact that he behaves and even talks like a high class lady, though, is something unknown to most people, as well as how she learned how to fight so well and seemingly have no fear of dying. She isn't the type to keep secrets, but she isn't the type to be just spouting her life story to just anyone who appears in front of her. She'll tell just about anyone about it once they ask, though. Theme Song: Explicit Languge! Other: She has a pair of dial headphones she usually carries around with her at all times. The design on them was especilly made for her by some skilled artisan. They seem to be a gift from her father after he went to a Sky Island and got them.</s> <\|message\|>Worches The old man sat by the window, chugging a tankard of something reeking of ocean water and booze. Lovely, lovely grog. Rather than brooding in the corner like some childish adventure hero, he was laughing and singing with a few of the other old salts who'd found their way here by the window. The bounty of that table would have been enough to send most marines running for their money. The scene from the corner-skulking man and the girl drew a new batch of laughter. "Looks like he's yer knight in shinin' armor, lassie! Comin' to the rescue of a little girl! Aye, so big and brave, startin' barfights over a girl insulting a man!" Another long chug, he continued laughing at the ongoing dramatacism. "Tip yer hat and bend yer knee, laddie! Let her know you'll kill these men who've said barely three words ta ya to protect her from the consequences of her actions! GWAAAAAHAHA!"</s> <\|message\|>Kirstie D. Emeri Emeri was about to do something about the rude customers herself when another guy came and started cutting people up. Yeah, an skilled swordsman no doubt, but it still seemed... wrong to interfere in a fight just because and like that. The guy seemed to think that Emeri couldn't take care of herself. And then there was the old guy in the bar that made the girl blush like crazy. Yeah, she needed no knight in shining armor. She was her OWN knight in shining armor. "Huh... I see, I see. So, you think I need someone saving me? Don't make me laugh!" Disappearing in a blur, Emeri advanced forward, making some of the civilians admire in awe her stunning speed. "Oto Dash!" Emeri said, after getting herself in front of one of the goons wiht a wide smirk in her face. "You guys lack so much delicacy. You don't deserve to be treated nicely." The girl said, before punching the first guy at super sonic speed and throwing him against the wall, effectively making him dig into it and leave his sillhoute there. And then, before anymore of them could even react to what she had done, she threw herself to the ground and supported herself on the ground, before using her legs at super sonic speed yet again and kicking two of the other goons standing behind her. They also flew quite some distance, but this time, one crashed against a table and broke it and the other against a chair, also breaking it. With that done, the girl spun around still supporting herself on the ground and then finally brought her legs down to ground level. Running a hand by her hair, Emeri decided to jump over a table and look down on all of the idiots. "Now, how about you all just calm down a bit. It is not like you stand a chance against the Queen of Pirates right here." With that said, every civilian in the bar seemed to be a bit shocked at her sudden statement.... Before breaking into a fit of laughter that filled the bar. Things like 'Did you hear this idiot?', 'She can't really be thinking she can become the King of Pirates, 'Not with so many dangerous rookies lulling around!' Yes, all of them were pretty insulting. Emeri's face became red as a tomato the moment they started laughing. "Heh, even if you laugh right now, soon enough, you'll be begging in your knees once you see I am really the Pirate Queen!" Emeri says back to them, before turning to the swordsman. "And you! Why did you have to interfere like that? Didn't you see I had the situation under control?" Calming herself down, she finally looks back at Ryuhei with a smile in her face. "Or what, would you like to go at it with me?"</s> <\|message\|>Originally born as 'Ryūhei Sasagara', his last name has been discarded. Hm...this was surprising. And he her thought that he had to save some little damsel in distress. Ryuhei had simply watched with a raised eyebrow and a growing smirk as the girl seemed to blur forward at a speed that his sharp eyes easily matched, kicking a goon before kicking another two, breaking quite a bit of furniture in the old tavern. An old man at the back seemed to guffaw about something or another, talking about Ryuhei preparing to kill these men for no reason; which only made his smirk grow into a grin. Just as he was about to laugh at the old timer and say some really hurtful words, he was cut off by the girl leaping onto the table and declaring her future as the 'Pirate Queen'. Amongst the other goons and civilians, Ryuhei merely watched, his grin disappearing into his normal frown when she turned her attention to him. Did he want to have a go at her? A quick glance over her form showed him that no, he didn't want to have a go at her. There was no fear in the statement; he didn't want to fight her...because disappointing fights were, well, disappointing. She wouldn't further his goal of becoming the world's greatest swordsman...she most-likely had no skills as a swordsman, and although she took care of herself, she didn't have the physique of a physically astounding warrior, either. She was probably one of the people who relied on their Devil Fruits to save their day...a pity, really. However...he was in a fired-up move, and had been really looking forward to fighting the goons all around him. Maybe...No. He wouldn't raise a sword against someone weaker, if there was no fun in it. No challenge. "Not worth it." He stated dismissively, waving one hand. His golden eyes peered deeply at her form. "What are you...twelve? Fifteen? Ten?" Although it was hard to tell with his cold, deep voice, there was an ounce of honest curiosity. Obviously, the swordsman was incredibly lost when it came to knowing someone's age.</s> <\|message\|>Worches "OH! OH! NOW THEY LACK DELICACY, SAYS THE GIRL TOSSIN' EM THROUGH WALLS!" He went to take another swig of grog, before spewing it out at the mention of the phrase "queen of the pirates" and continuing to laugh his ass off. "GWAAAAAHAHAHA! LASSIE, PIRATES DON'T BOW TO NO KING OR QUEEN IN THIS AGE! AND CERTAINLY NOT ONE THAT'S SO COWARDLY THEY NEED A DEVIL FRUIT TO SURVIVE IN THE DRUNKEN DEMON!" The man stood up, shaking his head. His laughter died down as he grabbed the full bottle of alcohol in one hand, and a baseball bat in the other. He slung the bat over his shoulder before turning a hateful glare, full of the disappointment of a man seeing everything wrong with the new generation infesting the livelihood he held so dear, to the self-proclaimed pirate queen. "Aaaaah, piracy's gone downhill since my day it seems. All you brats runnin' about, talkin' about KING OF THE PIRATES this and I'M SO COOL I HAVE A MAGIC BANANA that. In my day, ye got by on yer wits, yer muscle, and yer reputation. But it looks like sellin' yer pirate's soul to the devil and forsakin' the sea's embrace fer power is enough to make some brats these days think they're hot shit. Thinks that lets them call themselves a pirate. In my day?" In the blink of an eye, a fork flew over to the wall, quivering over an old wanted poster. Strikeout Worches, a bounty of 54,000,000- For piracy, sinking a marine vessel, burglarizing a Marine Captain's house, the theft of cargo totaling 30,000 tons, and shaving a Marine Captain's prize showdog. The pirate adjusted his hat and headed for the door. "In my day ye had to WORK to be worthy of sayin' that."</s>	<\|message\|>Kirstie D. Emeri Both guys seemed to be hugely understimating her. Devil Fruit or not, Emeri was still a damn fine pirate!..... probably. Even so, the comment from the swordsman pissed her off a bit. How could someone just not see that she was already eighteen?! "What was that!? Can't you see I am 18, you idiotic monkey!" Yeah, she was losing her cool. The guy didn't want to fight her and instead tried insulting her. Yeah, she should play it smooth here. She turned to the swordsman yet again, making her hair move around elgantly with her own elegant moves. "But even then, I cannot blame you for being scared of me. You may need swords, but I don't need such things. My, if it weren't because I ate a Devil Fruit by accident, I could still be able to drag you around the ground as it is proper for someone of YOUR class." Emeri jumped off the table. She was now full and out of here. Of course, she couldn't just let the comments of the old timer slide. He was part of the past age, and certainly a big asset for her in coming fights. She approached him with a smile. Even if he was saying all of those things and whatnot about devil fruits, he was certainly someone with some experience in the seas all ready. Perfect, just what Emeri needed. With another smirk, and pointing at him Emeri said what she needed to say. "You are a a real pain in anyone's bottom, old man. I like you. Even if you couldn't get a Devil Fruit in your time, I'm sure you are still real powerful. Why don't you become part of my crew?" She smiled at him. Of course, the bandits wouldn't just stay down while she had a talk with the old timer. Once the guy swinged his sword down to get her, Emeri decided to not let it go through her and instead use the guy's momentum against him. She avoided the slashing motion of the guy's sword, moved into the inside of the guy's guard and then punched him right on his stomach. It was a subtle move that still damaged the guy badly, making him fall to his knees. "W-What? How? She didn't even use her Devil Fruit powers....?" "Hehe, good enough right?" She turned to the old man. "Anyhow, I'm off to steal some boat to get to the next island. I need to get to the Grand Line as soon as possible. I need someone seasoned like you helping me out. You DO wish to see the seas one more time before dying right?" Emeri arrogantly smirked at him. She also turned to the swordsman and glared at him a bit, before smiling. She was trying to provoke him, in one way or the other. She would also like to have someone like that in her crew, someone aside from her that could fight. Just, she may need to educate the little monkey. "And the monkey swordsman over there.... Well, just come too. It'll be fun."</s>
<\|description\|>Originally born as 'Ryūhei Sasagara', his last name has been discarded. Appearance: Ryūhei is a relatively tall young man, standing at around 5 feet 11, or 6 feet exactly. His build is muscular and defined, but rather than the bulky, brute thickness that you would see in a lot of other pirates, Ryūhei's physique has more of a lean, streamlined build that boasts tightly-packed, explosive strength and speed. His hair is rather spiky and shaggy, soft locks naturally framing his face, while more locks breezes in the sky, spiked up. He has a pony-tail on the back, leading even more thick locks of hair down to around shoulder to shoulder-blade width. The hair itself is naturally white, going rather well with his dark golden eyes. Gender: Male Nicknames/Aliases: N/A Epithet: To be developed. Age: 19 Bounty: To be developed. Hometown: South Blue - A coastal island that went by the name 'Huroko's Nest'. Pirate Crew: ~ Role: Swordsman/Combat Specialist Abilities: ;; Swordsman's Spirit - Ryūhei has no Devil Fruit, but makes this up with pure strength, speed, agility, reflexes, and grit. His taut, muscular form holds immense power, that much is obvious. He can leap wide, considerable distances, slam holes through boulders with one punch or slice completely through with one swing, run for hours before getting fatigued, move at high speeds, and, with his determination and will, fight for however long it takes for either him or his opponent to die...even if it goes past his body's limits. Even so, he may become unconscious for days or weeks afterwards. The things he can do could seem inhuman, even for Devil Fruit Users - people who hold inhuman power themselves. ;; Swordsman's Skill - Ryūhei's plan for the future is to become the world's greatest swordsman, and already, he is showing steadfast resolve and untouchable potential. A prodigy in the arts of two swords, Ryūhei is an extremely skilled combatant, far on his way to perfecting his personally created style - Nireisu, or the Two Blade Style. His style allows him to excel fantastically in close-combat, while also holding artillery-like techniques for necessity's sake. One of the few men with the ability of Hakairyoku, Ryūhei can channel his own life-energy into his blades, or his body, increasing his already exceptional physical abilities and skills, although he is still rather...'ignorant' to this ability, and will learn more of it in the future. His techniques with Nireisu are named, for the sake of concentration and efficiency, and will be exposed IC. Ryūhei is also an accomplished hand-to-hand combatant, able to hold his own against strong opponents with his fists and legs, but generally, he prefers his katanas. Personality: Ryūhei comes off as a distant, fierce, and serious man that keeps to himself, opting to train, watch the ocean, eat, or train some more. However, despite this, he has a surprisingly small temper, and can lose said temper rather comically if you know how to push his buttons. Despite his lack of kinder emotions, other than anger or the occasional wistfulness, he does, in fact, have a heart - a rather passionate one, at that. He is a selfless being when it comes to those weaker and more innocent than him, and will risk his life in their steed - but he definitely won't go down without fighting. He believes that he lacks the ability to show certain emotions, and hasn't cried since...his past. In spite of this, he does have a bit of a humorous side - albeit his humor can be quite dark at times. In the crew, he's generally the more 'serious' of the mates, and somewhat of an advisor, pointing out flaws to the captain's plans, but otherwise keeping to himself. He loves eating, mostly due to the amount of fat his body sheds during his extreme physical workouts, but that's a story for another day. Although gruff on the outside, once you manage to get within his 'trust bubble', you will have an extremely dangerous swordsman with a kind, if not jaded and calloused heart as your guardian. He will fight armies for his teammates, and can, and is, willing to suffer through Hell for them, if necessary. Can sometimes come off as lazy due to his lack of responsibilities on board, but he's not actually lazy. In battle, he is incredibly violent and fierce, often grinning whenever his opponent is a challenge. However, when fighting weaker opponents, he tends to be a bit disappointed, restraining himself immensely, and holding back. Biography: To be revealed later. Theme Song: Grief - Warning, explicit language. Other: He has two katanas - Tsukihime and Benihime. Tsukihime has the white and blue hilt, and Benihime has the crimson and golden hilt.</s> <\|message\|>Originally born as 'Ryūhei Sasagara', his last name has been discarded. Hm...this was surprising. And he her thought that he had to save some little damsel in distress. Ryuhei had simply watched with a raised eyebrow and a growing smirk as the girl seemed to blur forward at a speed that his sharp eyes easily matched, kicking a goon before kicking another two, breaking quite a bit of furniture in the old tavern. An old man at the back seemed to guffaw about something or another, talking about Ryuhei preparing to kill these men for no reason; which only made his smirk grow into a grin. Just as he was about to laugh at the old timer and say some really hurtful words, he was cut off by the girl leaping onto the table and declaring her future as the 'Pirate Queen'. Amongst the other goons and civilians, Ryuhei merely watched, his grin disappearing into his normal frown when she turned her attention to him. Did he want to have a go at her? A quick glance over her form showed him that no, he didn't want to have a go at her. There was no fear in the statement; he didn't want to fight her...because disappointing fights were, well, disappointing. She wouldn't further his goal of becoming the world's greatest swordsman...she most-likely had no skills as a swordsman, and although she took care of herself, she didn't have the physique of a physically astounding warrior, either. She was probably one of the people who relied on their Devil Fruits to save their day...a pity, really. However...he was in a fired-up move, and had been really looking forward to fighting the goons all around him. Maybe...No. He wouldn't raise a sword against someone weaker, if there was no fun in it. No challenge. "Not worth it." He stated dismissively, waving one hand. His golden eyes peered deeply at her form. "What are you...twelve? Fifteen? Ten?" Although it was hard to tell with his cold, deep voice, there was an ounce of honest curiosity. Obviously, the swordsman was incredibly lost when it came to knowing someone's age.</s> <\|message\|>Worches "OH! OH! NOW THEY LACK DELICACY, SAYS THE GIRL TOSSIN' EM THROUGH WALLS!" He went to take another swig of grog, before spewing it out at the mention of the phrase "queen of the pirates" and continuing to laugh his ass off. "GWAAAAAHAHAHA! LASSIE, PIRATES DON'T BOW TO NO KING OR QUEEN IN THIS AGE! AND CERTAINLY NOT ONE THAT'S SO COWARDLY THEY NEED A DEVIL FRUIT TO SURVIVE IN THE DRUNKEN DEMON!" The man stood up, shaking his head. His laughter died down as he grabbed the full bottle of alcohol in one hand, and a baseball bat in the other. He slung the bat over his shoulder before turning a hateful glare, full of the disappointment of a man seeing everything wrong with the new generation infesting the livelihood he held so dear, to the self-proclaimed pirate queen. "Aaaaah, piracy's gone downhill since my day it seems. All you brats runnin' about, talkin' about KING OF THE PIRATES this and I'M SO COOL I HAVE A MAGIC BANANA that. In my day, ye got by on yer wits, yer muscle, and yer reputation. But it looks like sellin' yer pirate's soul to the devil and forsakin' the sea's embrace fer power is enough to make some brats these days think they're hot shit. Thinks that lets them call themselves a pirate. In my day?" In the blink of an eye, a fork flew over to the wall, quivering over an old wanted poster. Strikeout Worches, a bounty of 54,000,000- For piracy, sinking a marine vessel, burglarizing a Marine Captain's house, the theft of cargo totaling 30,000 tons, and shaving a Marine Captain's prize showdog. The pirate adjusted his hat and headed for the door. "In my day ye had to WORK to be worthy of sayin' that."</s> <\|message\|>Kirstie D. Emeri Both guys seemed to be hugely understimating her. Devil Fruit or not, Emeri was still a damn fine pirate!..... probably. Even so, the comment from the swordsman pissed her off a bit. How could someone just not see that she was already eighteen?! "What was that!? Can't you see I am 18, you idiotic monkey!" Yeah, she was losing her cool. The guy didn't want to fight her and instead tried insulting her. Yeah, she should play it smooth here. She turned to the swordsman yet again, making her hair move around elgantly with her own elegant moves. "But even then, I cannot blame you for being scared of me. You may need swords, but I don't need such things. My, if it weren't because I ate a Devil Fruit by accident, I could still be able to drag you around the ground as it is proper for someone of YOUR class." Emeri jumped off the table. She was now full and out of here. Of course, she couldn't just let the comments of the old timer slide. He was part of the past age, and certainly a big asset for her in coming fights. She approached him with a smile. Even if he was saying all of those things and whatnot about devil fruits, he was certainly someone with some experience in the seas all ready. Perfect, just what Emeri needed. With another smirk, and pointing at him Emeri said what she needed to say. "You are a a real pain in anyone's bottom, old man. I like you. Even if you couldn't get a Devil Fruit in your time, I'm sure you are still real powerful. Why don't you become part of my crew?" She smiled at him. Of course, the bandits wouldn't just stay down while she had a talk with the old timer. Once the guy swinged his sword down to get her, Emeri decided to not let it go through her and instead use the guy's momentum against him. She avoided the slashing motion of the guy's sword, moved into the inside of the guy's guard and then punched him right on his stomach. It was a subtle move that still damaged the guy badly, making him fall to his knees. "W-What? How? She didn't even use her Devil Fruit powers....?" "Hehe, good enough right?" She turned to the old man. "Anyhow, I'm off to steal some boat to get to the next island. I need to get to the Grand Line as soon as possible. I need someone seasoned like you helping me out. You DO wish to see the seas one more time before dying right?" Emeri arrogantly smirked at him. She also turned to the swordsman and glared at him a bit, before smiling. She was trying to provoke him, in one way or the other. She would also like to have someone like that in her crew, someone aside from her that could fight. Just, she may need to educate the little monkey. "And the monkey swordsman over there.... Well, just come too. It'll be fun."</s> <\|message\|>Worches "...You want ta be queen o' the pirates." Worches pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. "An' ya don't even have a boat. Do Devil Fruits cause brain damage, lass? Is that why ya came into the Drunken Demon an' started insulting the local hoodlums?" He shook his head, following the girl out, taking the bottle with him. "If ye be a true laggard, I'd be a whoreson fer talkin' down of ya. Can't let ya go stickin' dubloons up yer nose or jumpin in' the water because ye see a pretty fish, so I guess I HAVE to come along."</s>	<\|message\|>Originally born as 'Ryūhei Sasagara', his last name has been discarded. Okay...this isn't what he wanted. Ryuhei watched, his face carefully devoid of emotions, and his eyes narrowed as the old man seemed to talk in an annoying accent that he honestly couldn't understand. Drunken demon....the tavern. Laggard? He honestly had no clue at all, and he didn't know what a whoreson was either. Dubloons meant butt, which she could somehow stick up her nose...and apparently the girl was stupid enough to jump in the water after a fish, despite, rather blatantly, being a Devil Fruit user. However, none of that mattered at this point...because apparently he was a monkey swordsman. Feeling a headache coming on, the swordsman reached up, massaging his temples. Forget this. He wasn't going to join a ship with a mental old man and an arrogant little brat- Just as he was about to turn around and walk out without another word, the same small old woman that he had met earlier...was sitting by the door, on the floor. She pointed at the brat and mouthed something...it was a bit hard to understand, due to her lack of teeth, but he could barely make out the words 'Fortune and destiny'. With a snort, Ryuhei turned back around, his dark golden eyes narrowed as he glanced over the brat's form. She...she was the ticket to his destiny? Going with her, would spur along his fortune and help him in his quest to become the world's strongest swordsman? A large, sharp-toothed grin formed on his face, Ryuhei's golden eyes seeming to glow crimson. "Okay, little girl," He began slowly, "It'll be fun." There was a mocking tone behind his deep voice, but before she could say anything, the demonic glow disappeared, and Ryuhei crossed his arms over his chest, his face returning to it's intimidating scowl.</s>
<\|description\|>Worches Appearance: Gender: Male Nicknames/Aliases: Fogey, Gramps, Old Man Epithet: Strikeout Worches Age: 55 Bounty: 54,000,000 Hometown: North Blue, Sports Island Pirate Crew: (Formerly the Fossil Rush pirates) Role: Powder Monkey Abilities & Skills: Despite being past his prime, Worches is still incredibly athletic. So athletic, in fact, that he doesn't bother with cannons- He just throws the cannonballs. He's the greatest pitcher in the North Line, with a fastball that can sink ships. What would be a single for most batters becomes an in-the-park-homer thanks to his speed, and he wields a Seastone baseball bat with disturbing skill. He's also good with his fingers, able to pick locks like nobody's business. Personality: Worches is, at his core, a professional pirate. He's plied the shipping lanes for twenty years, and expects the crew to behave like professionals. The idea of operating a ship with only a skeleton crew disgusts him, and he's just as disturbed by the lack of vital positions on the crew's roster. He feels that pirates who fall back on Devil Fruits are less than worthless, forsaking the sea for power and failing to train themselves. Biography: Born on Sports Island, an island obsessed with all forms of sports. While stopping to resupply, the quartermaster of the Fossil Rush Pirates saw his skill on the baseball diamond and figured he'd make an excellent powder boy- he was quick, he was small, and he had incredible dexterity. Jumping at the chance for adventure, the then-15-year-old pirate joined the crew without a second thought. Sailing across the North Blue, waylaying ships, plundering cargo, and ransoming captives- the true life of a pirate. Twenty years of adventure followed. Now, however, it's forty years later. The captain of the Fossil Rush has retired, and the crew has disbanded. Most of the crewmen have moved on to other crews or integrated into civilian life. But not Worches. He's been beaten and weathered by a life at sea, looking far older than he is. Piracy is his life, and if he has anything to say, it will be his death. The powderboy's all grown up, looking for a new crew, and hoping they aren't the "chivalrous pirates" that seem to be infesting the seas these days. Theme Song: WAY-HO-HO! IT'S ONE FOR ALL FOR ONE! Other:</s> <\|message\|>Worches The old man sat by the window, chugging a tankard of something reeking of ocean water and booze. Lovely, lovely grog. Rather than brooding in the corner like some childish adventure hero, he was laughing and singing with a few of the other old salts who'd found their way here by the window. The bounty of that table would have been enough to send most marines running for their money. The scene from the corner-skulking man and the girl drew a new batch of laughter. "Looks like he's yer knight in shinin' armor, lassie! Comin' to the rescue of a little girl! Aye, so big and brave, startin' barfights over a girl insulting a man!" Another long chug, he continued laughing at the ongoing dramatacism. "Tip yer hat and bend yer knee, laddie! Let her know you'll kill these men who've said barely three words ta ya to protect her from the consequences of her actions! GWAAAAAHAHA!"</s> <\|message\|>Kirstie D. Emeri Emeri was about to do something about the rude customers herself when another guy came and started cutting people up. Yeah, an skilled swordsman no doubt, but it still seemed... wrong to interfere in a fight just because and like that. The guy seemed to think that Emeri couldn't take care of herself. And then there was the old guy in the bar that made the girl blush like crazy. Yeah, she needed no knight in shining armor. She was her OWN knight in shining armor. "Huh... I see, I see. So, you think I need someone saving me? Don't make me laugh!" Disappearing in a blur, Emeri advanced forward, making some of the civilians admire in awe her stunning speed. "Oto Dash!" Emeri said, after getting herself in front of one of the goons wiht a wide smirk in her face. "You guys lack so much delicacy. You don't deserve to be treated nicely." The girl said, before punching the first guy at super sonic speed and throwing him against the wall, effectively making him dig into it and leave his sillhoute there. And then, before anymore of them could even react to what she had done, she threw herself to the ground and supported herself on the ground, before using her legs at super sonic speed yet again and kicking two of the other goons standing behind her. They also flew quite some distance, but this time, one crashed against a table and broke it and the other against a chair, also breaking it. With that done, the girl spun around still supporting herself on the ground and then finally brought her legs down to ground level. Running a hand by her hair, Emeri decided to jump over a table and look down on all of the idiots. "Now, how about you all just calm down a bit. It is not like you stand a chance against the Queen of Pirates right here." With that said, every civilian in the bar seemed to be a bit shocked at her sudden statement.... Before breaking into a fit of laughter that filled the bar. Things like 'Did you hear this idiot?', 'She can't really be thinking she can become the King of Pirates, 'Not with so many dangerous rookies lulling around!' Yes, all of them were pretty insulting. Emeri's face became red as a tomato the moment they started laughing. "Heh, even if you laugh right now, soon enough, you'll be begging in your knees once you see I am really the Pirate Queen!" Emeri says back to them, before turning to the swordsman. "And you! Why did you have to interfere like that? Didn't you see I had the situation under control?" Calming herself down, she finally looks back at Ryuhei with a smile in her face. "Or what, would you like to go at it with me?"</s> <\|message\|>Originally born as 'Ryūhei Sasagara', his last name has been discarded. Hm...this was surprising. And he her thought that he had to save some little damsel in distress. Ryuhei had simply watched with a raised eyebrow and a growing smirk as the girl seemed to blur forward at a speed that his sharp eyes easily matched, kicking a goon before kicking another two, breaking quite a bit of furniture in the old tavern. An old man at the back seemed to guffaw about something or another, talking about Ryuhei preparing to kill these men for no reason; which only made his smirk grow into a grin. Just as he was about to laugh at the old timer and say some really hurtful words, he was cut off by the girl leaping onto the table and declaring her future as the 'Pirate Queen'. Amongst the other goons and civilians, Ryuhei merely watched, his grin disappearing into his normal frown when she turned her attention to him. Did he want to have a go at her? A quick glance over her form showed him that no, he didn't want to have a go at her. There was no fear in the statement; he didn't want to fight her...because disappointing fights were, well, disappointing. She wouldn't further his goal of becoming the world's greatest swordsman...she most-likely had no skills as a swordsman, and although she took care of herself, she didn't have the physique of a physically astounding warrior, either. She was probably one of the people who relied on their Devil Fruits to save their day...a pity, really. However...he was in a fired-up move, and had been really looking forward to fighting the goons all around him. Maybe...No. He wouldn't raise a sword against someone weaker, if there was no fun in it. No challenge. "Not worth it." He stated dismissively, waving one hand. His golden eyes peered deeply at her form. "What are you...twelve? Fifteen? Ten?" Although it was hard to tell with his cold, deep voice, there was an ounce of honest curiosity. Obviously, the swordsman was incredibly lost when it came to knowing someone's age.</s> <\|message\|>Worches "OH! OH! NOW THEY LACK DELICACY, SAYS THE GIRL TOSSIN' EM THROUGH WALLS!" He went to take another swig of grog, before spewing it out at the mention of the phrase "queen of the pirates" and continuing to laugh his ass off. "GWAAAAAHAHAHA! LASSIE, PIRATES DON'T BOW TO NO KING OR QUEEN IN THIS AGE! AND CERTAINLY NOT ONE THAT'S SO COWARDLY THEY NEED A DEVIL FRUIT TO SURVIVE IN THE DRUNKEN DEMON!" The man stood up, shaking his head. His laughter died down as he grabbed the full bottle of alcohol in one hand, and a baseball bat in the other. He slung the bat over his shoulder before turning a hateful glare, full of the disappointment of a man seeing everything wrong with the new generation infesting the livelihood he held so dear, to the self-proclaimed pirate queen. "Aaaaah, piracy's gone downhill since my day it seems. All you brats runnin' about, talkin' about KING OF THE PIRATES this and I'M SO COOL I HAVE A MAGIC BANANA that. In my day, ye got by on yer wits, yer muscle, and yer reputation. But it looks like sellin' yer pirate's soul to the devil and forsakin' the sea's embrace fer power is enough to make some brats these days think they're hot shit. Thinks that lets them call themselves a pirate. In my day?" In the blink of an eye, a fork flew over to the wall, quivering over an old wanted poster. Strikeout Worches, a bounty of 54,000,000- For piracy, sinking a marine vessel, burglarizing a Marine Captain's house, the theft of cargo totaling 30,000 tons, and shaving a Marine Captain's prize showdog. The pirate adjusted his hat and headed for the door. "In my day ye had to WORK to be worthy of sayin' that."</s> <\|message\|>Kirstie D. Emeri Both guys seemed to be hugely understimating her. Devil Fruit or not, Emeri was still a damn fine pirate!..... probably. Even so, the comment from the swordsman pissed her off a bit. How could someone just not see that she was already eighteen?! "What was that!? Can't you see I am 18, you idiotic monkey!" Yeah, she was losing her cool. The guy didn't want to fight her and instead tried insulting her. Yeah, she should play it smooth here. She turned to the swordsman yet again, making her hair move around elgantly with her own elegant moves. "But even then, I cannot blame you for being scared of me. You may need swords, but I don't need such things. My, if it weren't because I ate a Devil Fruit by accident, I could still be able to drag you around the ground as it is proper for someone of YOUR class." Emeri jumped off the table. She was now full and out of here. Of course, she couldn't just let the comments of the old timer slide. He was part of the past age, and certainly a big asset for her in coming fights. She approached him with a smile. Even if he was saying all of those things and whatnot about devil fruits, he was certainly someone with some experience in the seas all ready. Perfect, just what Emeri needed. With another smirk, and pointing at him Emeri said what she needed to say. "You are a a real pain in anyone's bottom, old man. I like you. Even if you couldn't get a Devil Fruit in your time, I'm sure you are still real powerful. Why don't you become part of my crew?" She smiled at him. Of course, the bandits wouldn't just stay down while she had a talk with the old timer. Once the guy swinged his sword down to get her, Emeri decided to not let it go through her and instead use the guy's momentum against him. She avoided the slashing motion of the guy's sword, moved into the inside of the guy's guard and then punched him right on his stomach. It was a subtle move that still damaged the guy badly, making him fall to his knees. "W-What? How? She didn't even use her Devil Fruit powers....?" "Hehe, good enough right?" She turned to the old man. "Anyhow, I'm off to steal some boat to get to the next island. I need to get to the Grand Line as soon as possible. I need someone seasoned like you helping me out. You DO wish to see the seas one more time before dying right?" Emeri arrogantly smirked at him. She also turned to the swordsman and glared at him a bit, before smiling. She was trying to provoke him, in one way or the other. She would also like to have someone like that in her crew, someone aside from her that could fight. Just, she may need to educate the little monkey. "And the monkey swordsman over there.... Well, just come too. It'll be fun."</s>	<\|message\|>Worches "...You want ta be queen o' the pirates." Worches pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. "An' ya don't even have a boat. Do Devil Fruits cause brain damage, lass? Is that why ya came into the Drunken Demon an' started insulting the local hoodlums?" He shook his head, following the girl out, taking the bottle with him. "If ye be a true laggard, I'd be a whoreson fer talkin' down of ya. Can't let ya go stickin' dubloons up yer nose or jumpin in' the water because ye see a pretty fish, so I guess I HAVE to come along."</s>
<\|description\|>Revan This, but with black hair and red eyes Themes:* All-Out Battle/Demon Lord * Absolute rage * Lucifer Mode * Asmodeus Mode Nickname:The Lord of Demons, King of Shadow, The Demon-mage of Slaughter, Rev Age:Doesn't remember, but somewhere between 100-250 years old, looks to be around his late twenties to early thirties. Gender: Male Rank: Paragon Guild:Harpy's Wing, formerly the guild Master of Demon's Maw Personality: In his past he was very violent cruel, and sadistic, but know he is rather laid-back, not easily angered to any degree greater than minor annoyance. That's not to say that he is completely without his former cruelty, it just takes a lot more to bring it out in any kind of way. He is also rather cold and aloof to the needs and wants of others, at times not understanding the emotions and feelings off others. He bears the Demon's Maw Guild seal on his chest, though he keeps it well hidden, and never takes his shirt off until he's sure he's alone. His New Harpy's Wing seal is located on over his left eye. The reason, so he only has to blink for people to know what guild he's apart of, and even that is too much work at times. Bio: Revan was not born, but created by a cult of Demon worshippers, hoping to create a demon of their own by sacrificing a human infant to foul demonic energy, but instead the Demonic was absorbed by the child, changing him and turning him into something more than a more than a regular man, but less than a demon. A hybrid creature whose humanity was consumed by his demonic soul. As the child grew so did his lust for power, he killed those that stood in his way, ravaged country sides, and was unstoppable by all who sought to oppose him. He gather followers and soon coined a NAme for themselves, Demon's Maw, for they shall swallow the World whole and send it plunging in to Chaos and Destruction. One day, however, the Dark Lord of Demon's Maw was struck down in battle with the Ten Wizard Saints and as his body fell, he was immediately removed of his demon heart and soul, leaving behind only an empty corpse. Or so they thought. As he was soon revived, and was able to escape from the Wizard saints, though he was left thoroughly weakened by the ordeal, as was his Guild, as they had no master to lead them and had degraded into infighting. Whether they survived or not, the lord didn't know and didn't care. As he stet out to regain his former glory by getting back his demon heart and soul. That was around thirty to fifty years ago, and in this period of time, the dark lord found that he couldn't draw up the same amount of bloodlust and rage that he used to, heck even a human could feel more than he could. He began to stop actively searching for his missing power, questioning why he even wanted it. While it had been great and euphoric, all he had ever been able to think about was death and slaughter. Without it he felt so much more free, like he finally had a choice in what he wanted to do. He gave himself the name Revan, and abandoned that part of his life forever more. He still searches for his other parts, but more out of trying to put a purpose to his wandering than actually trying to find them again. Magic: Infernal Arms Magic, a magic that summons Demonic weapons and armor, each one holding the spirit of an Infernal Spirit. Power of the arm depends on the amount of demonic magic the user possesses, thus only Revan can use it effectively due to him being a half-demon. However, due to having his demonic heart and soul stolen from him, he has less than a quarter of his original amount, making it so he can only summon the first two arms. This is because the other arms, or to be more specific the Infernal spirits inside of them don't see him as a worthy user anymore. The Infernal Spirits are fallen Celestial Spirits, cast out from the Celestial realm for committing great crimes against it. The strongest among them are the 7 Deadly Sins, which are their equivalent to the 12 Celestial Zodiac Spirits. Instead of keys, Infernal Spirits are brought to this plane by Infernal Rings. Revan holds all of the Deadly sins, but can only use two, Sloth and Envy. He also bears another two spirits, Fear and Despair. Ring of Sloth: This Greater Infernal Arm creates the Ultimate neutral zone, by taking away the will to fight, kill, or do anything other than lay around and chit-chat from any =one with in it's range of activation. Revan is not immune to these effects, but since he is already like that pretty much all the time, it doesn't affect him much. Also, an attack performed outside the radius towards him will fizzle out once it enters it, He can hold the zone for about 30 minutes to an hour, depending on how much energy he wants to expend into it, and is best used to talk down enraged opponents, or provide an easy escape from a trouble situation, as the area this effects is stationary, and only the one holding the ring and those in contact with him will be able to muster up the will to leave it's boundaries. Can only be used three times a day. Spirit of Envy: This Greater Infernal Arms covers Revan's hands in a sickly green energy, which he can launch at foes and control at will. The energy isn't dangerous in and of itself, but what it does is especially frightening. It is an Ultimate equalizer, as when the energy comes in contact with a rival mage, the spirt of Envy puts them on an equal playing ground by locking them into the same magic type, which is of Revan's choosing but cannot be one of Revan's, and the same level of power with said magic. This leaves it so that a fight that had no chance of being one, can become a tough fight with each participant locked into a ferocious battle where the only deciding factor is skill. This magic is deactivated once either someone is defeated, or Revan pays a blood sacrifice to end the battle prematurely. This arm can only be used once a day, and after it is used, Revan is severely weakened in his ability to use magic. Blade of Vengeance: A lesser Infernal Arm, this one allows the user to absorb a magical attack with the blade, and either send it back at the opponent, or infuse it into the weapon. When used against slayers, the element absorbed still counts as their magic and thus is inedible to them The Susanou one in the middle Gauntlets of : Since it is a Lesser Infernal Arm, in can be used with other Infernal Arms, if they are of a Lesser Quality Shadow Hydra Magic: This is a type of Magic that requires not any chants or sigils, but the tunes of a flute or a whistle. Being Revan's main offensive Magic, as his Arms are rather costly, they work similarly to maker magic, except the shadows are actually living creatures known as Shadow Hydra, which are Serpentine in appearance and bear no true physical form unless they are given a source and structure by magic. Their are Ranks to these Creatures, with the lowest and weakest being of Rank E and the highest being the King at Rank S. The Shadow hydras can form any shape their summoner wishes them to be, be it weapons, armor, even creatures to fight by his side. A special attribute of B-rank and above hydras is that they can replicate a certain number of times when they are split apart by an attack before they vanish back into shadows. B Ranks can do this 3 times, and A- ranks five, the king can do this infinitely, but due to the amount of magic it takes to sustain the replication, he caps at 20. S-rank can only be summoned for a few minutes, so he is only used for big attacks with a large charge up, and fast activation. Spells: Song of the Bulwark: Casts him in a suit of armor Song of Armaments Song of Gommorah Song of Beasts Song of Doom Song of Desolation Satan Soul: This particular form of Magic allows the user to Take Over the powers and forms of different Demons. These forms give the user a variety of different abilities such as flight, enhanced speed, strength, reflexes etc. This magic effects Revan differently than other due to his demon blood. making the respective magic stronger, but also increasing the risk of Revan losing control of his demon side. The forms he has in addition to the basic form are his Asomodeus and Lucifer forms. Asomodeus form is all about over powering offense from any distance, dramatically increasing Revan's attack power by a great amount, as well as his speed and reflexes, to better avoid attacks, as his defenses in this form aren't that great. This form also enables the user to gain control of darkness, which is a very offensive element, able to inflict both physical and mental damage. Moaning Lamentation:A chargeable magic that gains more shots as it charges,it fires of these beams of darkness at the enemy, each one followed by a mournful keening. These rise in volume to ear bursting shrieks that pierce the soul, disorienting the target and allowing for an easier target. Dark Awakening: A Hydra magic only available in this form, he summons the King Hydra from a single point, causing an explosion of energy to rip through the ground before it turns around and begins to devour whoever is unlucky enough to cross it's path Rising Sodom: A high-level technique that is his second strongest attack, he calls up all of the Darkness of the earth to rises up and break through. Basically, a blasts of darkness rising from the ground, except it's fucking huge, swallowing cities the size of Crocus at it's widest, and even when condensed to increase the damage output, it's still massive enough that it destroys entire blocks at it's smallest. Lucifer is also very offensive, but more well rounded, boosting his Attack power, Defenses, and Speed by an impressive amount. This form also gives Revan control over the very Earth itself, allowing them to act defensively or offensively with maximum effectiveness. Also, he is a master of dominating demons to his will, opting to either crush their minds and souls or making them his slaves and puppets. Break The Heavens: Hell Unleashed: A move that causes a Mega-quake, rising up giant earthen spires agaisnt the target, completely decimating the area around him. Bestial Reckoning: Same thing as Dark Awakening, but it covers the King in a layer of earthen armor, protecting it from attacks. When Revan uses Satan Soul magic, you know he's gotten serious and that you are either screwed or in for one hell of a fight. An unavoidable side effect of this magic is that for a short time after using it, Revan will under go radical mood changes. Using Asomodeus will make him a womanizing playboy, while using Lucifer will turn him into an arrogant snob, and just using the basic form will make him more aggressive in what ever he does. Extra: Due to being half demon, He is noticeably faster,stronger, and more durable than most people, and can even grow wings, though it is an incredibly painful, if quick, process. His senses are also much more acute, can see in the dark, and restores his magic faster when he is in darkness and shadow.</s> <\|message\|>Gwen Sniegow Peak Village Though it was large, it was sparsely populated. The weather made most people feel less inclined to hang around the station, only being bothered to hurry through it to get somewhere warmer. But neither Stacy nor Gwen were bothered by the temperature. "Beat me here? You're always faster than me but today it was a tie." Gwen patted her back. Stacy have always been physically faster than Gwen which is something Gwen herself is catching up on, the gap everyday closes in. But it doesn't matter who is stronger than who, what matters the most is, both look out for each other because they only have each other now, no family, no friends, just themselves, Stacy and Gwen. Sisters in many ways yet not in blood, their bond is great. "Yeah we should get some food but we need a job to do that but BLAAHHH... where can we find jobs? I also don't know where to go east or south? We're looking for Altima an independent guild that Liz told us." While dismayed with the lack of job. Gwen's panting but at the same time her expression was sad and shallow after mentioning their mentor, Liz. The Wizard Saint was a mother to them, so motherly to them even for five years that fall short. Gwen started crying but denies her tears. Flashback Liz Blanche Weiss "North, South, East, or the West. Even a Wizard Saint like me have been to farther places, it is so vivid out there. Not just ice that we see everyday. When you're old enough, you will have big breasts, beautiful bodies and attitudes, boys will be falling for you both. Haha but best of all the values I have thought you will prosper but it is something that a mother gives to her daughters. When I was your age, I trained under a guild named Altima, when the time comes when you have graciously nice bodies! Give the guild a good fight!" There was more to what Liz said other than her usual nonchalant energetic persona and joking around. Flashback Over Suddenly the train exploded; Acting quick as lightning, Gwen created an ice shield to protect her and Stacy. There was a very bad man who is out wreaking havoc in the train station while fighting with a fine young lady. "Stacy.. you okay. Take off your clothes." @Suku (@Suku. This is a hint, you are given a mission to destroy this certain man)</s> <\|message\|>Kyoka Kawashiro The mission was supposed to simple and straight forward but she should have known since was anything simple with the missions she gets? Now here she was fighting some crazed maniac who likes destroying cities. Blocking a attack with her sword God Eater she kicked him in the stomach before flipping getting to her feet once more. In the back of her eyes she saw two young mages thankfully they had a shield up so they weren't harm much if any. Taking up on her now free space she quickly decided to switch swords "Decaforce Explosion!! she yelled as she swung her new sword down causing a explosion where it hit the ground." Using the smoke caused by the explosion she charged forth once more hopefully this will end soon she did not want to involve the young mages or harm any civilians.</s>	<\|message\|>Revan Revan had just made it to the Peak Village, where he was supposed to meet the man who had given the request s he could find the monster, when all of the sudden, a fight seemed to have broken out. Some girl fighting against some guy for fuck all reasons. He wasn't going to get involved in this, he just had to do his mission then go home. But then again, he wasn't goign to be able tto do that until this fight had been out to rest. Goddamit. Revan walked past the two little girls who were hiding behind a wall off ice, the amount of killing intent he was giving ice sending chill down there spine as he passed by them, before he suddenly appeared behind the mask figure, with a fist cloaked in shadowy gauntlets drawn back. Without another word, Revan launch a haymaker punch at the guy, aiming to send him hurtling towards the other girl's attack. Or kill him, what ever came first. He didn't really care as long as he was able to get going on his way. "I fucking hate the North." Haruna</s>
<\|description\|>Ser Arthur House: Baratheon Age: 24 Bio/Story: Ser Arthur is a Stormlander and the firstborn son of the lord Baratheon - fierce in battle and decisive in action, and not without a hot temper of his House. Ser Arthur is a well-known knight with many tourney championships below his belt. He is situated in the King's Landing as an envoy and a representative of House Baratheon in the capital. He often brawls and spars with his men-at-arms and knights in the Red Keep's barracks and training field. Sometimes he finds his way to the local taverns. Ser Arthur is married to lady Alys Selmy, a prominent landholder in the Stormlands. His father is the Lord of Storm's End. Occupation / Rank: Knight Personality: Ser Arthur is a tactical prodigy - aggressive, rash and a front line leader, but not much of a strategist. He has a booming voice that enables him to shout commands to his men. He is a quick thinker, but not really a genius. Ser Arthur often jumps to conclusions too soon (except in battles), and often follows his instincts and intuition. He dislikes bards and singers, but enjoys singing a ballad known as "The Storm's End" by a famed bard Dandelion of Oldtown. Appearance: He is slightly taller than most men of the Stormlands, about six feet, and has a long, pale scar running across his face, thanks to a duel with a Martell. He has cropped, black hair and a small beard. Arthur has the green eyes of his mother's. He is quite strong, thanks to his upbringing. It's like he was born to fight in wars and battles. Other: Ser Arthur carries a Valyrian bastard sword called the Doom into battle. It is engraved with strange symbols, and no maester in Westeros knows what they mean. He has a black destrier named Roach. Killable by others?: Yes</s> <\|message\|>Ser Arthur A Web of Lies The King is dead, long live the king! It was already noon, and the coronation had just begun in the Red Keep. Many high lords and ladies far and near were cramped into its throne room, and Ser Arthur Baratheon was one of them. And he wasn't happy about it. Even Dorne is cooler than this room, Ser Arthur thought and swiped sweat from his brow. Gods be damned with their long summers and days like these. His silken tunic was designed to keep his body cool, but the Red Keep was known to be a hellhole on a warm summer day. And it didn't do him good that the coronation of the lord Arryn was taking ages! The High Septon was talking something about the wisdom of the gods and the responsibility of a king to the gods above, to the lords beside him and to the people below, but Arthur couldn't care less. He hated the High Septon and his annoying voice with its tempo and high pitch. Arthur had hated the man since the day he had arrived to the capital. He remembered that day well. High Septon had been sent to greet him along with some servants and soldiers, and weary from the travel, Arthur had been annoyed by the High Septon. He had started to talk and just had kept on talking and talking. Arthur had almost punched to man to the gut, but had resisted the urge. The hall used for the coronation was the throne room where the Iron Throne was. It is an ugly piece of furniture and really a pain in the ass to sit, Arthur contemplated. The High Septon and Lord Arryn, the king-to-be, were in front of the Throne, standing few feet apart. The lords and ladies were standing all around the throne room. It didn't have many chairs or any other furniture. The High Septon was finishing his speech, and was asking everyone to join in a prayer to the gods, to grant the new king wisdom and a long, prosperous reign. Gods, just strike them down with a bolt of lightning, Arthur prayed. But they didn't, because they didn't listen to him, as always. They never listened to him.</s> <\|message\|>Mychael Mychael Lannister observed the going-on's with mild disinterest. Next to him, Arthur Baratheon seemed to be bored out of his wits. To tell the truth, Mychael was too. The High Septon just kept droning on, and, also sitting next to him, his niece and nephew couldn't sit still and were yapping on and playing games. He took another sip. Alcohol couldn't make them go away, but it could help. He turned to his brother Baldric, who seemed to be sleeping. His wife Alyna was talking to Lord Stark, who was on the other hand watching the going-ons keenly. To each his own. Mychael had been to the last Targaeryen coronation when he was a boy. It had been very grand, and there had even been a Dragon present. It was a babe at the time, but nevertheless. It nearly burnt the king's beard off. That was a good ceremony, a coronation worthy of it's name. And no fucking High Septon. Even Rickard looked bored, and he was about to be the most important person in the realm. He'd put on weight, obviously having visited the pantry several times. Mychael leaned forward. Something appeared to be happening, as the Septon had actually physically moved. This startled the children and woke up Baldric. He had taken the King's crown, and was about to place it on Rickard Arryn's head. It was a thing of beauty. Wrought of silver, eagles and half crescent moons adorned it. The eyes of the eagles had little beads of onyx for eyes. Also given to him was his father's legacy: a Valyrian steel sword, with a black pattern welded blade, and an eagle hilt set with sapphires. He nudged Arthur next to him. "Look, something's happening."</s> <\|message\|>Ser Arthur "Oh really, my lord of Lannister? The High Septon just crowned the king. That means we're one step nearer ending this mummer's coronation" Arthur said back to Mychael. He didn't have much love for the Lannisters, but Mychael seemed all right. He wasn't a fighter like him, but Mychael was like his lord father in many ways. Both had their noses buried deep in ledgers and reports. Arthur was bored by paperwork, but he knew someone had to do it, because soldiers like him depended on them. Somebody had to pay the soldiers and gather money to equip them, to build the roads they marched on. His father, the lord of the Storm's End, had just been chosen to the small council to act as the Master of Coin. He must have been happy to hear that he beat the famed lion of Lannister. "That sword is really a beauty, though" Arthur remarked. "Maybe not as good-looking as my Doom, but still a worthy blade for a king."</s> <\|message\|>Daemon Targaryen (Aeryx Laeniar) Daemon was sitting near to the back of the coronation, dressed in loose yellow robes. He had yet to be born when his uncle was crowned king, and this was actually his first time seeing the Iron Throne in person. He was far more interested in the titanic seat of iron and steel blades than he was in the coronation itself, and he had toned out the High Septons droning some time ago. He finally looked around the room, trying to determine who was who in the mass of nobles attending the coronation. The Lannisters were unmistakable of course, and he thought he recognized the Starks near the front as well, but he was unsure about the rest. He was mentally making notes about who could be potential allies in Kings Landing but at the moment he didn't see anyone who he knew might be sympathetic to his cause. His attention returned to Rickard Arryn and the High Septon when a murmur rumbled through the room and his eyes were drawn to the silver crown the High Septon was about to ceremoniously place atop Rickards head. He concealed his feelings of disgust at the ornate silver crown, viewing it as all but a direct insult to the crowns of the Targaryen kings, but despite his fury he remained outwardly calm, eyes eventually being drawn to the Lannister lord and someone he was conversing with, assuming the other man must be a highborn lord as well, due to his seating location.</s> <\|message\|>Mychael "Maybe not as good-looking as my Doom, but still a worthy blade for a king." "Certainly better than Widowmaker, Baldric's sword," Mychael jested. Baldric had taken three wives and left each one, generating controversy. Mychael called his sword the Widowmaker. He felt like someone was watching him. He looked around the room and saw something that caught his attention. "White hair," he muttered. Unmistakeable. The lad stood taller than the others around him, with long flowing hair and... yes, purple eyes. For some reason he was wearing robes that made him look like a foreign diplomat, some Essosi or something. He was looking straight at them, and though Mychael pretended not to look at him, he saw all he was doing. "Don't look, Lord Baratheon, but someone's watching us. A dragon."</s>	<\|message\|>Ser Arthur Arthur was watching the Iron Throne and the king as he was walking up the steps to sit on the throne. He heard what the Lannister said, and felt an urge to look what he was talking about, but instead, he tried to keep his calm. "A dragon, Lord Lannister? Are you kidding with me?" he said with a whisker of amusement. He didn't take his eyes from the king. "There hasn't been fire-breathing dragons in Westeros for almost quarter of a century, let alone a Targaryen in this hall for like fifteen years!" Arthur had been born under the rulership of the last Targaryen king, yet he had been toppled from his throne before his tenth name day. He had been told that the Targaryens were wicked kings who drank wildfire as wine. He didn't knew about that, but Arbor gold was a much better choice. "Just go to talk to him, Lannister, and get it over with" he said and turned to Lord Lannister. "You should get yourself introduced with him and if he's a Targaryen, then you can turn him up to the crown."</s>
<\|description\|>Mychael House: Lannister Age: 37 Bio/Story: Mychael is the eldest son of the late Jonnen Lannister. More skilled with his wits then a sword, he leaves most warfare to his younger brother and instead rules peacefully at Casterly Rock, taking care of the economy and other important affairs. He is currently celibate, and a great friend of the new King. Occupation/Rank: Lord of Casterly Rock Personality: Smart, cunning, witty. He has a way with words in which he can resolve conflicts without spilling any blood. Appearance: He bears the traditional blond hair and green eyes of the Lannisters. He is very tall, at 6'2, and wears his hair short. Other: KILLABLE (WARNING: DEATH IS FINAL) by others?: YES</s> <\|message\|>Ser Arthur A Web of Lies The King is dead, long live the king! It was already noon, and the coronation had just begun in the Red Keep. Many high lords and ladies far and near were cramped into its throne room, and Ser Arthur Baratheon was one of them. And he wasn't happy about it. Even Dorne is cooler than this room, Ser Arthur thought and swiped sweat from his brow. Gods be damned with their long summers and days like these. His silken tunic was designed to keep his body cool, but the Red Keep was known to be a hellhole on a warm summer day. And it didn't do him good that the coronation of the lord Arryn was taking ages! The High Septon was talking something about the wisdom of the gods and the responsibility of a king to the gods above, to the lords beside him and to the people below, but Arthur couldn't care less. He hated the High Septon and his annoying voice with its tempo and high pitch. Arthur had hated the man since the day he had arrived to the capital. He remembered that day well. High Septon had been sent to greet him along with some servants and soldiers, and weary from the travel, Arthur had been annoyed by the High Septon. He had started to talk and just had kept on talking and talking. Arthur had almost punched to man to the gut, but had resisted the urge. The hall used for the coronation was the throne room where the Iron Throne was. It is an ugly piece of furniture and really a pain in the ass to sit, Arthur contemplated. The High Septon and Lord Arryn, the king-to-be, were in front of the Throne, standing few feet apart. The lords and ladies were standing all around the throne room. It didn't have many chairs or any other furniture. The High Septon was finishing his speech, and was asking everyone to join in a prayer to the gods, to grant the new king wisdom and a long, prosperous reign. Gods, just strike them down with a bolt of lightning, Arthur prayed. But they didn't, because they didn't listen to him, as always. They never listened to him.</s> <\|message\|>Mychael Mychael Lannister observed the going-on's with mild disinterest. Next to him, Arthur Baratheon seemed to be bored out of his wits. To tell the truth, Mychael was too. The High Septon just kept droning on, and, also sitting next to him, his niece and nephew couldn't sit still and were yapping on and playing games. He took another sip. Alcohol couldn't make them go away, but it could help. He turned to his brother Baldric, who seemed to be sleeping. His wife Alyna was talking to Lord Stark, who was on the other hand watching the going-ons keenly. To each his own. Mychael had been to the last Targaeryen coronation when he was a boy. It had been very grand, and there had even been a Dragon present. It was a babe at the time, but nevertheless. It nearly burnt the king's beard off. That was a good ceremony, a coronation worthy of it's name. And no fucking High Septon. Even Rickard looked bored, and he was about to be the most important person in the realm. He'd put on weight, obviously having visited the pantry several times. Mychael leaned forward. Something appeared to be happening, as the Septon had actually physically moved. This startled the children and woke up Baldric. He had taken the King's crown, and was about to place it on Rickard Arryn's head. It was a thing of beauty. Wrought of silver, eagles and half crescent moons adorned it. The eyes of the eagles had little beads of onyx for eyes. Also given to him was his father's legacy: a Valyrian steel sword, with a black pattern welded blade, and an eagle hilt set with sapphires. He nudged Arthur next to him. "Look, something's happening."</s> <\|message\|>Ser Arthur "Oh really, my lord of Lannister? The High Septon just crowned the king. That means we're one step nearer ending this mummer's coronation" Arthur said back to Mychael. He didn't have much love for the Lannisters, but Mychael seemed all right. He wasn't a fighter like him, but Mychael was like his lord father in many ways. Both had their noses buried deep in ledgers and reports. Arthur was bored by paperwork, but he knew someone had to do it, because soldiers like him depended on them. Somebody had to pay the soldiers and gather money to equip them, to build the roads they marched on. His father, the lord of the Storm's End, had just been chosen to the small council to act as the Master of Coin. He must have been happy to hear that he beat the famed lion of Lannister. "That sword is really a beauty, though" Arthur remarked. "Maybe not as good-looking as my Doom, but still a worthy blade for a king."</s> <\|message\|>Daemon Targaryen (Aeryx Laeniar) Daemon was sitting near to the back of the coronation, dressed in loose yellow robes. He had yet to be born when his uncle was crowned king, and this was actually his first time seeing the Iron Throne in person. He was far more interested in the titanic seat of iron and steel blades than he was in the coronation itself, and he had toned out the High Septons droning some time ago. He finally looked around the room, trying to determine who was who in the mass of nobles attending the coronation. The Lannisters were unmistakable of course, and he thought he recognized the Starks near the front as well, but he was unsure about the rest. He was mentally making notes about who could be potential allies in Kings Landing but at the moment he didn't see anyone who he knew might be sympathetic to his cause. His attention returned to Rickard Arryn and the High Septon when a murmur rumbled through the room and his eyes were drawn to the silver crown the High Septon was about to ceremoniously place atop Rickards head. He concealed his feelings of disgust at the ornate silver crown, viewing it as all but a direct insult to the crowns of the Targaryen kings, but despite his fury he remained outwardly calm, eyes eventually being drawn to the Lannister lord and someone he was conversing with, assuming the other man must be a highborn lord as well, due to his seating location.</s>	<\|message\|>Mychael "Maybe not as good-looking as my Doom, but still a worthy blade for a king." "Certainly better than Widowmaker, Baldric's sword," Mychael jested. Baldric had taken three wives and left each one, generating controversy. Mychael called his sword the Widowmaker. He felt like someone was watching him. He looked around the room and saw something that caught his attention. "White hair," he muttered. Unmistakeable. The lad stood taller than the others around him, with long flowing hair and... yes, purple eyes. For some reason he was wearing robes that made him look like a foreign diplomat, some Essosi or something. He was looking straight at them, and though Mychael pretended not to look at him, he saw all he was doing. "Don't look, Lord Baratheon, but someone's watching us. A dragon."</s>
<\|description\|>Daemon Targaryen (Aeryx Laeniar) House: Targaryen Age: 26 Bio/Story: Daemon was born into a time of trial for the Targaryens, his uncle the king was not well liked, and the great houses of Westeros had grown unhappy with the Targaryen leadership. When most houses rose up in open rebellion soon after Daemon's birth he was smuggled away to Essos by secret loyalists, and grew up in the protection of a member of his fathers Kingsguard, who raised him with the intent of returning Daemon to his rightful place on the Iron Throne. Finally with the death of the King of Westeros and his replacement with Rickard Arryn, those who still hold a secret loyalty to House Targaryen have arranged for Daemon to return to Kings Landing, under the guise of a diplomat from Volantis named Aeryx Laeniar, using the fact that the Volantine people often had similar physical traits to Targaryens to disguise his violet eyes and pure white hair. Occupation/Rank: Exiled Prince/Volantine Diplomat Personality: Daemon has been raised to know the proper manners of a Targaryen prince, but he was also raised as the subject of a secret plot. He knows how to hide his nature and play the part of the diplomat, even if he finds it rather distasteful to do so. His true personality lacks the insanity often typified by Targaryens, as it seems the gods coin-flip landed on greatness. He is good at making people like him, but he does often lose his temper when things don't go his way, even if he is usually good at hiding it. Appearance: Daemon stands tall, easily a few inches higher than most average size men, with pale, snow white wavy hair falling near his shoulders, and piercing violet eyes set on a handsome, pale-skinned face. His body is square-shouldered and lean, but his body is solidly muscle, honed by training with a sword under his guardian, once a loyal member of the Kingsguard. As far as clothing, he usually wears the gaudy robes of an Essossi diplomat, specifically chosen to hang loose on his body and hide the chainmail and boiled leather he wears underneath. Other: KILLABLE by others?: YES</s> <\|message\|>Ser Arthur A Web of Lies The King is dead, long live the king! It was already noon, and the coronation had just begun in the Red Keep. Many high lords and ladies far and near were cramped into its throne room, and Ser Arthur Baratheon was one of them. And he wasn't happy about it. Even Dorne is cooler than this room, Ser Arthur thought and swiped sweat from his brow. Gods be damned with their long summers and days like these. His silken tunic was designed to keep his body cool, but the Red Keep was known to be a hellhole on a warm summer day. And it didn't do him good that the coronation of the lord Arryn was taking ages! The High Septon was talking something about the wisdom of the gods and the responsibility of a king to the gods above, to the lords beside him and to the people below, but Arthur couldn't care less. He hated the High Septon and his annoying voice with its tempo and high pitch. Arthur had hated the man since the day he had arrived to the capital. He remembered that day well. High Septon had been sent to greet him along with some servants and soldiers, and weary from the travel, Arthur had been annoyed by the High Septon. He had started to talk and just had kept on talking and talking. Arthur had almost punched to man to the gut, but had resisted the urge. The hall used for the coronation was the throne room where the Iron Throne was. It is an ugly piece of furniture and really a pain in the ass to sit, Arthur contemplated. The High Septon and Lord Arryn, the king-to-be, were in front of the Throne, standing few feet apart. The lords and ladies were standing all around the throne room. It didn't have many chairs or any other furniture. The High Septon was finishing his speech, and was asking everyone to join in a prayer to the gods, to grant the new king wisdom and a long, prosperous reign. Gods, just strike them down with a bolt of lightning, Arthur prayed. But they didn't, because they didn't listen to him, as always. They never listened to him.</s> <\|message\|>Mychael Mychael Lannister observed the going-on's with mild disinterest. Next to him, Arthur Baratheon seemed to be bored out of his wits. To tell the truth, Mychael was too. The High Septon just kept droning on, and, also sitting next to him, his niece and nephew couldn't sit still and were yapping on and playing games. He took another sip. Alcohol couldn't make them go away, but it could help. He turned to his brother Baldric, who seemed to be sleeping. His wife Alyna was talking to Lord Stark, who was on the other hand watching the going-ons keenly. To each his own. Mychael had been to the last Targaeryen coronation when he was a boy. It had been very grand, and there had even been a Dragon present. It was a babe at the time, but nevertheless. It nearly burnt the king's beard off. That was a good ceremony, a coronation worthy of it's name. And no fucking High Septon. Even Rickard looked bored, and he was about to be the most important person in the realm. He'd put on weight, obviously having visited the pantry several times. Mychael leaned forward. Something appeared to be happening, as the Septon had actually physically moved. This startled the children and woke up Baldric. He had taken the King's crown, and was about to place it on Rickard Arryn's head. It was a thing of beauty. Wrought of silver, eagles and half crescent moons adorned it. The eyes of the eagles had little beads of onyx for eyes. Also given to him was his father's legacy: a Valyrian steel sword, with a black pattern welded blade, and an eagle hilt set with sapphires. He nudged Arthur next to him. "Look, something's happening."</s> <\|message\|>Ser Arthur "Oh really, my lord of Lannister? The High Septon just crowned the king. That means we're one step nearer ending this mummer's coronation" Arthur said back to Mychael. He didn't have much love for the Lannisters, but Mychael seemed all right. He wasn't a fighter like him, but Mychael was like his lord father in many ways. Both had their noses buried deep in ledgers and reports. Arthur was bored by paperwork, but he knew someone had to do it, because soldiers like him depended on them. Somebody had to pay the soldiers and gather money to equip them, to build the roads they marched on. His father, the lord of the Storm's End, had just been chosen to the small council to act as the Master of Coin. He must have been happy to hear that he beat the famed lion of Lannister. "That sword is really a beauty, though" Arthur remarked. "Maybe not as good-looking as my Doom, but still a worthy blade for a king."</s>	<\|message\|>Daemon Targaryen (Aeryx Laeniar) Daemon was sitting near to the back of the coronation, dressed in loose yellow robes. He had yet to be born when his uncle was crowned king, and this was actually his first time seeing the Iron Throne in person. He was far more interested in the titanic seat of iron and steel blades than he was in the coronation itself, and he had toned out the High Septons droning some time ago. He finally looked around the room, trying to determine who was who in the mass of nobles attending the coronation. The Lannisters were unmistakable of course, and he thought he recognized the Starks near the front as well, but he was unsure about the rest. He was mentally making notes about who could be potential allies in Kings Landing but at the moment he didn't see anyone who he knew might be sympathetic to his cause. His attention returned to Rickard Arryn and the High Septon when a murmur rumbled through the room and his eyes were drawn to the silver crown the High Septon was about to ceremoniously place atop Rickards head. He concealed his feelings of disgust at the ornate silver crown, viewing it as all but a direct insult to the crowns of the Targaryen kings, but despite his fury he remained outwardly calm, eyes eventually being drawn to the Lannister lord and someone he was conversing with, assuming the other man must be a highborn lord as well, due to his seating location.</s>
<\|description\|>Valkor "The Impaler" Orion House: Orion (Dead House) Age: 24 Bio/Story: Valkor was born the bastard son of Lord Orion to a house servant. The woman was harsh on him from the beginning, always telling him that he deserved to be Lord of the House, rather than the one legitimate daughter Lord Orion sired in his lifetime. But Valkor was an observant child, and knew trouble would be on its way to his small home soon. The other Houses did not like them, wanted the rash Lord destroyed and his lands torn asunder to further grow their coffers. Eventually, the day came where his father challenged the Lord of Baratheon. As of yet that house had been young, but even to Valkor's young eyes he knew the fight would be foolish. Knowing what would come of his father's drunken rage, the boy stole into one of the barns and fled on horseback. House Orion fell not long after, their words "Look to your Nightmares" lost on the wind, and the bastard son grew to avoid responding to his true name, even though his stark white hair and ice-blue eyes mark him out as an oddity among others. However, his keen sense of self, and sense of events around him have shaped him into a master mercenary. Now a young man, he works only for the noble houses, and though he does not enjoy doing the Lord's dirty work he hopes to make enough ties within the houses to one day rise in power and regain his old homeland. Occupation/Rank: Mercenary, Bastard Heir of Orion Personality: Quiet, Serious, Observant. Valkor is not one to be taken by surprise lightly, and despite the oft offer of a bed and room, he prefers to sleep with his horse in the stables. This is likely due tot he fact that the beast will lash out and attack anyone else who dares get too close. Appearance: Valkor is a tall man, but relatively slim in build. He is a Lancer, with strong arms, but uses the force of his charging steed to do most of the damage. His only other weapon that he keeps on him is a slim rapier, and his armor consists of battered iron gear with a tattered cape. However, if one were to manage to get into his saddle bags they woudl find a complete second set of polished steel armor with a white fur cape, all etched with the rearing Nightmare of House Orion in blue. Other: Despite his cold nature Valkor is not without a heart, and has had it used against him before. His horse is also not what many think it is: just a rather angry animal. That anger can be changed into something far more destructive... KILLABLE (WARNING: DEATH IS FINAL) by others?: YES</s> <\|message\|>Ser Arthur A Web of Lies The King is dead, long live the king! It was already noon, and the coronation had just begun in the Red Keep. Many high lords and ladies far and near were cramped into its throne room, and Ser Arthur Baratheon was one of them. And he wasn't happy about it. Even Dorne is cooler than this room, Ser Arthur thought and swiped sweat from his brow. Gods be damned with their long summers and days like these. His silken tunic was designed to keep his body cool, but the Red Keep was known to be a hellhole on a warm summer day. And it didn't do him good that the coronation of the lord Arryn was taking ages! The High Septon was talking something about the wisdom of the gods and the responsibility of a king to the gods above, to the lords beside him and to the people below, but Arthur couldn't care less. He hated the High Septon and his annoying voice with its tempo and high pitch. Arthur had hated the man since the day he had arrived to the capital. He remembered that day well. High Septon had been sent to greet him along with some servants and soldiers, and weary from the travel, Arthur had been annoyed by the High Septon. He had started to talk and just had kept on talking and talking. Arthur had almost punched to man to the gut, but had resisted the urge. The hall used for the coronation was the throne room where the Iron Throne was. It is an ugly piece of furniture and really a pain in the ass to sit, Arthur contemplated. The High Septon and Lord Arryn, the king-to-be, were in front of the Throne, standing few feet apart. The lords and ladies were standing all around the throne room. It didn't have many chairs or any other furniture. The High Septon was finishing his speech, and was asking everyone to join in a prayer to the gods, to grant the new king wisdom and a long, prosperous reign. Gods, just strike them down with a bolt of lightning, Arthur prayed. But they didn't, because they didn't listen to him, as always. They never listened to him.</s> <\|message\|>Mychael Mychael Lannister observed the going-on's with mild disinterest. Next to him, Arthur Baratheon seemed to be bored out of his wits. To tell the truth, Mychael was too. The High Septon just kept droning on, and, also sitting next to him, his niece and nephew couldn't sit still and were yapping on and playing games. He took another sip. Alcohol couldn't make them go away, but it could help. He turned to his brother Baldric, who seemed to be sleeping. His wife Alyna was talking to Lord Stark, who was on the other hand watching the going-ons keenly. To each his own. Mychael had been to the last Targaeryen coronation when he was a boy. It had been very grand, and there had even been a Dragon present. It was a babe at the time, but nevertheless. It nearly burnt the king's beard off. That was a good ceremony, a coronation worthy of it's name. And no fucking High Septon. Even Rickard looked bored, and he was about to be the most important person in the realm. He'd put on weight, obviously having visited the pantry several times. Mychael leaned forward. Something appeared to be happening, as the Septon had actually physically moved. This startled the children and woke up Baldric. He had taken the King's crown, and was about to place it on Rickard Arryn's head. It was a thing of beauty. Wrought of silver, eagles and half crescent moons adorned it. The eyes of the eagles had little beads of onyx for eyes. Also given to him was his father's legacy: a Valyrian steel sword, with a black pattern welded blade, and an eagle hilt set with sapphires. He nudged Arthur next to him. "Look, something's happening."</s> <\|message\|>Ser Arthur "Oh really, my lord of Lannister? The High Septon just crowned the king. That means we're one step nearer ending this mummer's coronation" Arthur said back to Mychael. He didn't have much love for the Lannisters, but Mychael seemed all right. He wasn't a fighter like him, but Mychael was like his lord father in many ways. Both had their noses buried deep in ledgers and reports. Arthur was bored by paperwork, but he knew someone had to do it, because soldiers like him depended on them. Somebody had to pay the soldiers and gather money to equip them, to build the roads they marched on. His father, the lord of the Storm's End, had just been chosen to the small council to act as the Master of Coin. He must have been happy to hear that he beat the famed lion of Lannister. "That sword is really a beauty, though" Arthur remarked. "Maybe not as good-looking as my Doom, but still a worthy blade for a king."</s> <\|message\|>Daemon Targaryen (Aeryx Laeniar) Daemon was sitting near to the back of the coronation, dressed in loose yellow robes. He had yet to be born when his uncle was crowned king, and this was actually his first time seeing the Iron Throne in person. He was far more interested in the titanic seat of iron and steel blades than he was in the coronation itself, and he had toned out the High Septons droning some time ago. He finally looked around the room, trying to determine who was who in the mass of nobles attending the coronation. The Lannisters were unmistakable of course, and he thought he recognized the Starks near the front as well, but he was unsure about the rest. He was mentally making notes about who could be potential allies in Kings Landing but at the moment he didn't see anyone who he knew might be sympathetic to his cause. His attention returned to Rickard Arryn and the High Septon when a murmur rumbled through the room and his eyes were drawn to the silver crown the High Septon was about to ceremoniously place atop Rickards head. He concealed his feelings of disgust at the ornate silver crown, viewing it as all but a direct insult to the crowns of the Targaryen kings, but despite his fury he remained outwardly calm, eyes eventually being drawn to the Lannister lord and someone he was conversing with, assuming the other man must be a highborn lord as well, due to his seating location.</s> <\|message\|>Mychael "Maybe not as good-looking as my Doom, but still a worthy blade for a king." "Certainly better than Widowmaker, Baldric's sword," Mychael jested. Baldric had taken three wives and left each one, generating controversy. Mychael called his sword the Widowmaker. He felt like someone was watching him. He looked around the room and saw something that caught his attention. "White hair," he muttered. Unmistakeable. The lad stood taller than the others around him, with long flowing hair and... yes, purple eyes. For some reason he was wearing robes that made him look like a foreign diplomat, some Essosi or something. He was looking straight at them, and though Mychael pretended not to look at him, he saw all he was doing. "Don't look, Lord Baratheon, but someone's watching us. A dragon."</s> <\|message\|>Ser Arthur Arthur was watching the Iron Throne and the king as he was walking up the steps to sit on the throne. He heard what the Lannister said, and felt an urge to look what he was talking about, but instead, he tried to keep his calm. "A dragon, Lord Lannister? Are you kidding with me?" he said with a whisker of amusement. He didn't take his eyes from the king. "There hasn't been fire-breathing dragons in Westeros for almost quarter of a century, let alone a Targaryen in this hall for like fifteen years!" Arthur had been born under the rulership of the last Targaryen king, yet he had been toppled from his throne before his tenth name day. He had been told that the Targaryens were wicked kings who drank wildfire as wine. He didn't knew about that, but Arbor gold was a much better choice. "Just go to talk to him, Lannister, and get it over with" he said and turned to Lord Lannister. "You should get yourself introduced with him and if he's a Targaryen, then you can turn him up to the crown."</s>	<\|message\|>Valkor "The Impaler" Orion Dead. All of them were dead. Or would be anyway... Valkor scanned the crowd with a practiced eye, one hand on the hilt of his rapier as always. If anyone would bother to look in the direction of the cowled guard at the door, they would find much more than what they expected. But he was a master at diverting attention from himself. A master at disembowling a man where he stood, and then leaving the corpse for the beasts to tear apart and devour. However, his attention was diverted from scanning the ceremonies for anything out of place when he noticed his current liege-lord glancing at a strange man standing near the back of the room on his right. Sliding his gaze over the crowd again, Valkor made as if to stretch and let his ice-blue eyes rake across this new source of interest. A strange man with white hair and violet eyes. Some sort of diplomat by the looks. Was he trouble? Letting his arms fall back down to his sides from his feigned stretch, Valkor lowered his head and let his gaze focus on his lord. The man was good at sensing when someone had their eyes on him. All he had to do was nod in his direction, and Valkor would tail the man out of the ceremony. His sword hand twitched and Valkor spread his feet a little bit further apart as he braced his back against the wall, head lowered even further. To onlookers, it might seem as if he had dozed off. But his gaze remained on Lord Lannister, awaiting orders. Somewhere outside, he heard the thunder of impatient hooves. The war-cry of a beast untamed, and screaming to be set free.</s>
<\|description\|>Maya Age: not sure... around 17 or 18 she guesses... Weapons: Knife, Small Pistol, Bart (see below) Brief Bio: Maya was once a Little Sister. She was cured by Delta, but left behind accidently when Eleanor left with several cured Little Sisters. Since then she had grown up in Rapture, and grown up quickly. Maya doesn't remember anything about her time before being a Little Sister. She searched through what was left of Fontaine's Orphanage and found the files of all the Little Sisters, but nothing that that was familiar to her. So she took on the name Maya, an name created from the initials of the four girls in files she found without pictures, as she might be any one of them. A stroke of luck for Maya was that when she was cured a Big Daddy still stuck around. She was able to bond with it and it has protected her. (See Bart's CS below for more info) She is very quick and light on her feet. Maya set up a base in Pauper's Drop, but spends most of her time scavenging for food and parts for Bart in other parts of Rapture. She never stays in one place very long, constantly moving about. Other:[youtube]9aRlxHtB0pg[/youtube] (ignore the Little Sister at his side please) Name: Big Daddy, but Maya calls him Bart Age: on the old side Weapons: Drill, Brute Strength, Rage... nuf said Brief Bio: For some unknown reason Bart decided to bond with Maya and has been protecting her ever since. He doesn't have much of a thought process : walk, protect Maya, walk more, look around, protect Maya, walk... you get the idea. He has been her protector and only friend for years, but now Bart is starting to break down. Maya tries to fix him but she is not a mechanic. She knows it is only a matter of time before Bart shuts down for good... and that terrifies her. Other: nothing really... a Big Daddy is pretty straight forward...</s> <\|message\|>Maya Maya - Medical Pavilion - Bart/Splicers The girl turned away from the window. She had been watching the sea life swim by, sometimes seeing a massive shark. But it didn't pay to watch the scenery too long in Rapture. The great underwater city was a city of death and horror. If you didn't understand that, you didn't last long. She heard the lunatic screams of a female splicer and shrugged. Scavenging wasn't easy, especially in the Medical Pavilion. Steinman's patients and coworkers were still running around. A few even had grenades which they tossed around like confet- BOOM Like that. Maya sighed and rolled her eyes. At least she could tell when they were coming. Sure enough, one of the crazy freaks came around the corner and spotted her. He shouted something at her she didn't even try to understand anymore. He tossed one of his grenades at her, but she dived behind and counter and avoided the debris as it went off. She heard him coming and pulled out her knife. She wasn't going to waste the little ammo she had on this guy. Seconds later she heard a loud groan and the splicer start choking. Smiling, she came out from under the counter to see a Big Daddy choking the life from her would-be attacker. When his face turned purple the Big Daddy threw him across the room, slamming him into a wall. He slid to the floor and didn't move. "Thanks Bart," she said, patting the old Big Daddy on the arm. He made a noise that she always assumed was a hum of approval and the color of the lights on his helmet when from angry red to neutral yellow. Maya examined the grenade box the splicer had been carrying, then looted his body. He hadn't had much : two grenades, some chips and a few dollars. She could use the money in a vending machine for some food she supposed. She'd add it to her stash. The odd pair headed out of the Medical Pavilion, the girl eating the chips and the giant metal man lumbering slowly behind her. Several splicers saw them, but didn't dare attack the girl. They didn't want to risk the wrath of a Big Daddy, especially one with a large drill for an arm. Maya stopped along their path and Bart stopped with her, waiting patiently. Pulling out her knife, Maya did what she always did when she left an area : she scratched a message into the wall. She had left the same message her multiple times so she just deepened the words so that anyone who came across them knew they were fresh. She didn't know why she left the message. Maybe a feeble hope that some day someone who wasn't a crazy spliced up psycho would see them and find her. A cured Little Sister perhaps, or maybe someone who was like her, struggling to survive down here. Someone she hadn't come across yet. Either way, it was a habit now. One that she hoped would pay off one day. The message: I AM ALIVE - M</s> <\|message\|>Angelo Ortega Angelo Ortega-lighthouse 26-bathasphere Angelo was getting transported to a lighthouse off the pacific ocean. Angelo was a great mechanic and he was recognized as such by the state and as a result he was told he would be fixing an important lighthouse in the ocean, obviously Angelo was hesitant in doing so but they pushed his buttons saying he was to young for the job and of course Angelo felt he needed to prove he was just as good if not better then any federal mechanic. Angelo was being dropped off by a speed boat and all his repair supplies were in the bag next to him they kept saying that their was a problem with both its bulb and its support in the oceans current so he needed to work on a way to keep it afloat so he needed to go to its basement and check to see if the water was going in. Once Angelo got onto its small dock which in reality was just some wood going out towards the sea from the stairs leading inside the lighthouse he started walking inside seeing the large metal doors and at first Angelo knocked then it just creepily opened "ah now this is classic" Angelo said softly sighing a little as he took out his shotgun from his bag obviously being suspicious of whatever was in the shadows he started walking up the stairs to the top of the lighthouse and he was seeing some memorabilia about a place of freedom and where all men were left to their own devices, obviously Angelo couldn't care less as long as he did his job. Angelo got to the top and he found the light bulb not shinning in the sky so he found the fuse box nearby and he changed a few wires and turned on the power to the entire lighthouse and Angelo believed they just sent him to do an idiots job. Angelo soon went all the way back down towards the basement and Angelo could see a submarine or some sort of sphere in a small pool, obviously this lighthouse was used for more then just lighting a way for the ships that would pass and was probably used by divers in the 70s considering how old it looked. Angelo looked around and used some plastering mold on the walls where it sprung a leak and Angelo curiosity got to him since it seemed so old it may be a good relic to take to a museum. Angelo walked into the bathosphere and saw it close behind him Angelo tried to get out but then it did a scan and it said unidentified user, unidentified user Angelo thought that seemed pretty advanced for something so old so Angelo walked to a small panel and Angelo started to twist some wires and it did a scan again and this time said welcome Mr. fontaine please enjoy the ride Angelo said "what the hell I wanted you to let me out!" Angelo groaned but sat down as the bathosphere started to take him down where Angelo started to see a city at the bottom of the sea...</s> <\|message\|>Mr. Bubbles and Olivia Olivia and Mr. Bubbles - The streets of Rapture - Splicers and 'angels' Olivia was happily skipping along a glass corridor, humming a merry tune in time to the thuds of Mr. Bubbles' footsteps. Mr. Bubbles was lumbering after his little sister, looking around for any signs of danger. They happened along a corpse. But in Olivia's eyes, it was a sleeping angel. "Look look!" Olivia said excitedly "It's an angel!". Olivia skipped over to the 'angel' to gather ADAM. but as she did so, 4 spider splicers dropped onto Mr. Bubbles and began clawing at him with their hooks. While this was happening a pair of brutes came out of hiding and tried to grab Olivia. Olivia cried out in fear, causing Mr. Bubbles' helmet lights to turn red. He threw 1 spider splicer to the ground and crushed its head beneath his boot. Mr. Bubbles shot the 2nd spider into the air with his rocket launcher and watched as it blew up like a firework. The 3rd and 4th had the sense to run, but were gunned down by the mini-turret Mr. Bubbles deployed for the brutes. When Mr. Bubbles turned his attention to the brutes they abandoned their pursuit of Olivia and instead attacked Mr. Bubbles, who grabbed their heads and bashed them together until he saw skull. When it was over, Olivia ran over to Mr. Bubbles and hugged his leg. Mr. Bubbles knelt down and hugged Olivia back before picking her up and carrying her on his shoulders away from the scene.</s> <\|message\|>BurnHeart BurnHeart - The Streets of Rapture - Another Big Daddy RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHG! BurnHeart was loudly lumbering through the streets, his drill making loud obnoxious noises as it randomly turned on and off. His gun was slung across his back but was easy enough to whip out should a melee fight overwhelm him. As he prowled through the streets, another Big Daddy paired with a little sister saw BurnHeart and grunted in disgust before walking away into a complex. He took note of the Big Daddy's ragged suit and lack of little sister. It was almost a sign of misconduct for a Big Daddy to not have one, or at least it was a way for them to rank their kind being their rather lack of real smarts. BurnHeart however was as ravenous as an animal and he heard the steps of the other Big Daddy echo across the streets he raised his drill into the air and it make a horrible screaming buzz as it spun through the air. It made the other little sister shriek. The big daddy that entered the complex was aware of this and in a bright flash his helmet turned red and he spun back to face his challenger. "GRAAAAAAAHH" BurnHeart shouted, stumbling towards the unnamed Big Daddy. The other Big Daddy braced himself for the brute force of a Rosie but instead found the sharp force of a drill being pressed against his arm. It broke the suit and began drilling into the Big Daddy's grafted arm. It was the Big Daddies turn to scream. BurnHeart raised his arm and swung it down at the other Big Daddy's head, crumpling it. He raised his Ion Laser from his back at fired it twice at the Big daddy's head, to break the suit and then to break the grafted head inside. He then raised his head and looked around for the Little Sister. It was to no avail, she escaped when her Big Daddy crumpled. BurnHeart took one last look at the Big Daddy and raised the laser one more time. He fired it at the big daddy's chest, leaving a smoking hole. It was unknown even to BurnHeart what impulsed him to do this to his victims, but none the less it would cause terror to see a Big Daddy killed in this way. He then screamed and started in a run down the street, trying to find the escaped little sister.</s> <\|message\|>Mr. Bubbles and Olivia Olivia and Mr. Bubbles - The streets of Rapture - Each other Mr. Bubbles stopped when he heard the sound of BurnHeart roaring somewhere in the distance. On his shoulders, he could feel Olivia begin to shake with fear. "It's him" Olivia whimpered "He's coming this way!". Mr. Bubbles attempted to comfort Olivia, but then a 2nd roar echoed through the street they were walking through. This time it was closer. "We have to hide!" Olivia insisted before jumping off Mr. Bubbles and running into a nearby shop. Mr. Bubbles looked in the direction of the roar. Their last encounter with BurnHeart almost cost Olivia and Mr. Bubbles their lives. Mr. Bubbles wasn't eager for round 2. Mr. Bubbles turned back towards the shop where Olivia had gone to hide and walked in after her.</s>	<\|message\|>Maya Maya - Streets of Rapture - Bart, unknown A horrific scream made Maya's blood turn to ice, freezing her in her tracks. What... was...? Bart made a noise of warning, his drill arm rising in front of them. Maya patted his arm, trying to calm him. If they ran into anything other then splicers Bart would have a hard time and would be in even worse shape. "It's okay," she said soothingly. "Whatever it is, it isn't going to bother us," she said, praying that was true. "Let's just start heading for home okay?" As they moved cautiously towards the train that would take them towards Pauper's Drop, Maya listened for any other sound from whatever that thing had been. It certainly hadn't been a Little Sister and it hadn't sounded like a Splicer either. It had sounded almost like a Big Daddy, but not how they were supposed to sound. Maybe Bart wasn't the only Big Daddy that was falling into disrepair. It wouldn't surprise her. They had found several bodies of Big Daddies that had been mutilated and picked apart for loot and pieces of their weapons and armor. The curious thing had been that some of them had large holes on their chests. It was nerve-racking, but then when you lived in a hell like Rapture nerve-racking was normal. A high-pitched alarm startled Maya and she dropped her bag to cover her ears. A bright light illuminated her, hurting her eyes. Damn security camera! She had walked right into it's line of sight! Even with Ryan dead and gone the cameras still worked. The light and noise was gone a moment later when Bart ripped the thing off of the wall and stomped on it, crushing it to pieces under his heavy boot. "Thank you," Maya said and quickly grabbed her bag. They needed to move quicker now because if anything or anyone was nearby the noise from the camera was like a dinner bell clanging, an alert to a possible target.</s>
<\|description\|>Maya Age: not sure... around 17 or 18 she guesses... Weapons: Knife, Small Pistol, Bart (see below) Brief Bio: Maya was once a Little Sister. She was cured by Delta, but left behind accidently when Eleanor left with several cured Little Sisters. Since then she had grown up in Rapture, and grown up quickly. Maya doesn't remember anything about her time before being a Little Sister. She searched through what was left of Fontaine's Orphanage and found the files of all the Little Sisters, but nothing that that was familiar to her. So she took on the name Maya, an name created from the initials of the four girls in files she found without pictures, as she might be any one of them. A stroke of luck for Maya was that when she was cured a Big Daddy still stuck around. She was able to bond with it and it has protected her. (See Bart's CS below for more info) She is very quick and light on her feet. Maya set up a base in Pauper's Drop, but spends most of her time scavenging for food and parts for Bart in other parts of Rapture. She never stays in one place very long, constantly moving about. Other:[youtube]9aRlxHtB0pg[/youtube] (ignore the Little Sister at his side please) Name: Big Daddy, but Maya calls him Bart Age: on the old side Weapons: Drill, Brute Strength, Rage... nuf said Brief Bio: For some unknown reason Bart decided to bond with Maya and has been protecting her ever since. He doesn't have much of a thought process : walk, protect Maya, walk more, look around, protect Maya, walk... you get the idea. He has been her protector and only friend for years, but now Bart is starting to break down. Maya tries to fix him but she is not a mechanic. She knows it is only a matter of time before Bart shuts down for good... and that terrifies her. Other: nothing really... a Big Daddy is pretty straight forward...</s> <\|message\|>Mr. Bubbles and Olivia Olivia and Mr. Bubbles - The streets of Rapture - Splicers and 'angels' Olivia was happily skipping along a glass corridor, humming a merry tune in time to the thuds of Mr. Bubbles' footsteps. Mr. Bubbles was lumbering after his little sister, looking around for any signs of danger. They happened along a corpse. But in Olivia's eyes, it was a sleeping angel. "Look look!" Olivia said excitedly "It's an angel!". Olivia skipped over to the 'angel' to gather ADAM. but as she did so, 4 spider splicers dropped onto Mr. Bubbles and began clawing at him with their hooks. While this was happening a pair of brutes came out of hiding and tried to grab Olivia. Olivia cried out in fear, causing Mr. Bubbles' helmet lights to turn red. He threw 1 spider splicer to the ground and crushed its head beneath his boot. Mr. Bubbles shot the 2nd spider into the air with his rocket launcher and watched as it blew up like a firework. The 3rd and 4th had the sense to run, but were gunned down by the mini-turret Mr. Bubbles deployed for the brutes. When Mr. Bubbles turned his attention to the brutes they abandoned their pursuit of Olivia and instead attacked Mr. Bubbles, who grabbed their heads and bashed them together until he saw skull. When it was over, Olivia ran over to Mr. Bubbles and hugged his leg. Mr. Bubbles knelt down and hugged Olivia back before picking her up and carrying her on his shoulders away from the scene.</s> <\|message\|>BurnHeart BurnHeart - The Streets of Rapture - Another Big Daddy RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHG! BurnHeart was loudly lumbering through the streets, his drill making loud obnoxious noises as it randomly turned on and off. His gun was slung across his back but was easy enough to whip out should a melee fight overwhelm him. As he prowled through the streets, another Big Daddy paired with a little sister saw BurnHeart and grunted in disgust before walking away into a complex. He took note of the Big Daddy's ragged suit and lack of little sister. It was almost a sign of misconduct for a Big Daddy to not have one, or at least it was a way for them to rank their kind being their rather lack of real smarts. BurnHeart however was as ravenous as an animal and he heard the steps of the other Big Daddy echo across the streets he raised his drill into the air and it make a horrible screaming buzz as it spun through the air. It made the other little sister shriek. The big daddy that entered the complex was aware of this and in a bright flash his helmet turned red and he spun back to face his challenger. "GRAAAAAAAHH" BurnHeart shouted, stumbling towards the unnamed Big Daddy. The other Big Daddy braced himself for the brute force of a Rosie but instead found the sharp force of a drill being pressed against his arm. It broke the suit and began drilling into the Big Daddy's grafted arm. It was the Big Daddies turn to scream. BurnHeart raised his arm and swung it down at the other Big Daddy's head, crumpling it. He raised his Ion Laser from his back at fired it twice at the Big daddy's head, to break the suit and then to break the grafted head inside. He then raised his head and looked around for the Little Sister. It was to no avail, she escaped when her Big Daddy crumpled. BurnHeart took one last look at the Big Daddy and raised the laser one more time. He fired it at the big daddy's chest, leaving a smoking hole. It was unknown even to BurnHeart what impulsed him to do this to his victims, but none the less it would cause terror to see a Big Daddy killed in this way. He then screamed and started in a run down the street, trying to find the escaped little sister.</s> <\|message\|>Mr. Bubbles and Olivia Olivia and Mr. Bubbles - The streets of Rapture - Each other Mr. Bubbles stopped when he heard the sound of BurnHeart roaring somewhere in the distance. On his shoulders, he could feel Olivia begin to shake with fear. "It's him" Olivia whimpered "He's coming this way!". Mr. Bubbles attempted to comfort Olivia, but then a 2nd roar echoed through the street they were walking through. This time it was closer. "We have to hide!" Olivia insisted before jumping off Mr. Bubbles and running into a nearby shop. Mr. Bubbles looked in the direction of the roar. Their last encounter with BurnHeart almost cost Olivia and Mr. Bubbles their lives. Mr. Bubbles wasn't eager for round 2. Mr. Bubbles turned back towards the shop where Olivia had gone to hide and walked in after her.</s> <\|message\|>Maya Maya - Streets of Rapture - Bart, unknown A horrific scream made Maya's blood turn to ice, freezing her in her tracks. What... was...? Bart made a noise of warning, his drill arm rising in front of them. Maya patted his arm, trying to calm him. If they ran into anything other then splicers Bart would have a hard time and would be in even worse shape. "It's okay," she said soothingly. "Whatever it is, it isn't going to bother us," she said, praying that was true. "Let's just start heading for home okay?" As they moved cautiously towards the train that would take them towards Pauper's Drop, Maya listened for any other sound from whatever that thing had been. It certainly hadn't been a Little Sister and it hadn't sounded like a Splicer either. It had sounded almost like a Big Daddy, but not how they were supposed to sound. Maybe Bart wasn't the only Big Daddy that was falling into disrepair. It wouldn't surprise her. They had found several bodies of Big Daddies that had been mutilated and picked apart for loot and pieces of their weapons and armor. The curious thing had been that some of them had large holes on their chests. It was nerve-racking, but then when you lived in a hell like Rapture nerve-racking was normal. A high-pitched alarm startled Maya and she dropped her bag to cover her ears. A bright light illuminated her, hurting her eyes. Damn security camera! She had walked right into it's line of sight! Even with Ryan dead and gone the cameras still worked. The light and noise was gone a moment later when Bart ripped the thing off of the wall and stomped on it, crushing it to pieces under his heavy boot. "Thank you," Maya said and quickly grabbed her bag. They needed to move quicker now because if anything or anyone was nearby the noise from the camera was like a dinner bell clanging, an alert to a possible target.</s> <\|message\|>BurnHeart BurnHeart - Streets of Rapture - The Unfortunate... BurnHeart swung his head around to look for the Camera he heard but he caught a hint of motion in the street he was now running down. He took a moment to process this information and he thought he had the most chance of finding a victim on... The distinct screech of a door opening caught BurnHeart's attention. His mind echoed with rage and he screamed ferociously. The noise of the door was screeching through his mind and it made him furious. Instead of following the basic train of thought that he was beginning to formulate he sprinted through the street, traveling to the source of the noise in four bounding leaps. He looked through the window but was unable to conclude if anything was in it. He made a low rumbling noise of curiosity similar to that of other Big Daddies. It also had a hint of sadness that one could detect in his voice always, just now more observable. His lights flashed bright yellow for a second before bounding back to the deep red. He stuck his head through a gash in the window and once again saw nothing. His voice returning to a bone chilling scream he bounded through the window, shattering the glass. He looked around, but he yet again just could not find anything. He refused for that to be the answer. He began tearing the shop apart, looking for his prey.</s> <\|message\|>Mason Lockwood Mason – Streets of Rapture — Himself Water had filled his lungs. The exploration team he had been assigned on was dead; at least that's the only logical assumption. The team he had joined were sent to find the undisclosed location directly, while others searched topside for clues as to the natural entryway into…well, where they were going, what they were finding was never told to Mason. He was just there to help out with maintenance. A simple task. The small expedition sub carried only a handful of people, many of which were scientist or smart people who obviously got more than a college degree. Of all those people, all those important individuals, Mason couldn't help wonder why a loser like himself survived. If he survives, that is. As he lay on his side, Mason began to cough violently, water and saliva spewing out of his mouth. He took several long and deep gasps, trying to catch as much breath as he could. After several minutes, he was able to muster up an ounce of composure and strength to push his body up with his hands. He looked behind him, staring in disbelief at the airtight door that he had struggled to open. Just a few moments ago he was on the other side of that door; he was deep in the ocean, frantically trying to get the door to open. Before Mason could attempt to even stand on his feet a sudden rush of pain shot through his right arm. His arm gave out and he fell back onto the cold steel floor. He must have injured himself in the escape. Okay, he thought to himself, gotta go, gotta find out where I am… With some effort, he managed to rise to his feet, holding his right arm with his left in an effort to ease the pain. He stared forward at the second airlock and took in a deep breath before unlocking it. He could hear the gears turning as the door started to open up, revealing a dark room. He took a single step and immediately felt a chill run through his body. There's death in this place. Not just the room, but the whole structure in its entirety. Something wasn't right about this place, wherever the hell it is. Still, there was nowhere to go, nowhere to run. Mason continued through the room, not paying any attention to the multitude of oversized diving suits and helmets hanging on the walls. He reached a normal door and pushed it open, revealing something he was unprepared to see. It was a street. A dirty, filthy, rundown street. It bore an uncanny resemblance to some of the streets he'd see back home. But, he's not home; he's miles upon miles deep in the Atlantic Ocean. "Christ…" he uttered under his breath. As his mind was processing all he was seeing, Mason's whole body froze, his heart pounding erratically in his chest. In the distance, there came a bone chilling groan that was now all too familiar to Mason. This was the noise he had heard before something, or someone, attacked their sub. "Ffffuck."</s> <\|message\|>Mr. Bubbles and Olivia Olivia and Mr. Bubbles - Abandoned shop - BurnHeart and little sister vent By the time BurnHeart entered the shop Olivia and Mr. Bubbles were near the back of the shop. Olivia was cowering in fear as BurnHeart began to tear the shop apart. Seeing Olivia afraid caused Mr. Bubbles' protective instincts to kick in. Mr. Bubbles sprang from hiding and attacked. 1st he deployed his mini turret, which began firing on BurnHeart. Mr. Bubbles then started firing heat seeking rockets at BurnHeart in an attempt to bring down the frenzied daddy as quickly as possible. While this was happening, Olivia spotted a little sister vent outside the shop. Moving quickly, she slipped past the fighting, left the shop, and climbed into the vent.</s>	<\|message\|>Maya Maya - In Route to Pauper's Drop - Bart The sound of fighting reached them. It sounded like two Big Daddies fighting. But how could that be? Big Daddies pretty much ignored each other. Unless... could one have tried to take the sister of another? But how would that make any sense? Whatever was happening they did not need to be around for it. Maya grabbed Bart's hand, just in case he decided he needed to investigate, and ran for it. They had to get home while whoever was fighting was distracted. The problem was Bart was moving even slower then usual. Maya swore under her breath. He needed hydralic fluid for his limbs to function. It must be running low again. That meant scavenging for what she could find. The closest place was the Welcome Center. It had a Maintenance section. She could only pray it had some fluid, because if she had to go on without Bart... Maya shuddered. She had survived too long to die now.</s>
<\|description\|>Mr. Bubbles and Olivia Olivia's age: 10 Mr. Bubbles' age: N/A Olivia's occupation: Little sister Mr. Bubbles' occupation: Big daddy. Olivia's weapons: Her ADAM needle and Mr. Bubbles Mr. Bubbles' weapons: His mini-turrets, his heat-seeking rocket launcher, and his fists Bio: The story of these 2 begins 5 years before the start point of this RP. Olivia was running for her life. A group of leadhead splicers were in hot pursuit after killing her previous big daddy. Olivia ran round a corner and straight into an bondless Mr. Bubbles. Upon seeing the leadheads, Mr. Bubbles shielded Olivia from the bullets with his own body. Mr. Bubbles then took down the splicers and bonded with Olivia. They have been wandering the streets of rapture ever since. Other info about Olivia: If she wants to, Olivia can stop Mr. Bubbles from attacking perceived threats, so long as they keep their distance. Other info about Mr. Bubbles: Olivia gave him the name and the splicers have learned to fear that name. Along with all the rest of the damage caused to Mr. Bubbles during his many fights with splicers, there's a hole in his helmet through which you can see his face...if you can get close enough, that is.</s> <\|message\|>Mr. Bubbles and Olivia Olivia and Mr. Bubbles - The streets of Rapture - Splicers and 'angels' Olivia was happily skipping along a glass corridor, humming a merry tune in time to the thuds of Mr. Bubbles' footsteps. Mr. Bubbles was lumbering after his little sister, looking around for any signs of danger. They happened along a corpse. But in Olivia's eyes, it was a sleeping angel. "Look look!" Olivia said excitedly "It's an angel!". Olivia skipped over to the 'angel' to gather ADAM. but as she did so, 4 spider splicers dropped onto Mr. Bubbles and began clawing at him with their hooks. While this was happening a pair of brutes came out of hiding and tried to grab Olivia. Olivia cried out in fear, causing Mr. Bubbles' helmet lights to turn red. He threw 1 spider splicer to the ground and crushed its head beneath his boot. Mr. Bubbles shot the 2nd spider into the air with his rocket launcher and watched as it blew up like a firework. The 3rd and 4th had the sense to run, but were gunned down by the mini-turret Mr. Bubbles deployed for the brutes. When Mr. Bubbles turned his attention to the brutes they abandoned their pursuit of Olivia and instead attacked Mr. Bubbles, who grabbed their heads and bashed them together until he saw skull. When it was over, Olivia ran over to Mr. Bubbles and hugged his leg. Mr. Bubbles knelt down and hugged Olivia back before picking her up and carrying her on his shoulders away from the scene.</s> <\|message\|>BurnHeart BurnHeart - The Streets of Rapture - Another Big Daddy RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHG! BurnHeart was loudly lumbering through the streets, his drill making loud obnoxious noises as it randomly turned on and off. His gun was slung across his back but was easy enough to whip out should a melee fight overwhelm him. As he prowled through the streets, another Big Daddy paired with a little sister saw BurnHeart and grunted in disgust before walking away into a complex. He took note of the Big Daddy's ragged suit and lack of little sister. It was almost a sign of misconduct for a Big Daddy to not have one, or at least it was a way for them to rank their kind being their rather lack of real smarts. BurnHeart however was as ravenous as an animal and he heard the steps of the other Big Daddy echo across the streets he raised his drill into the air and it make a horrible screaming buzz as it spun through the air. It made the other little sister shriek. The big daddy that entered the complex was aware of this and in a bright flash his helmet turned red and he spun back to face his challenger. "GRAAAAAAAHH" BurnHeart shouted, stumbling towards the unnamed Big Daddy. The other Big Daddy braced himself for the brute force of a Rosie but instead found the sharp force of a drill being pressed against his arm. It broke the suit and began drilling into the Big Daddy's grafted arm. It was the Big Daddies turn to scream. BurnHeart raised his arm and swung it down at the other Big Daddy's head, crumpling it. He raised his Ion Laser from his back at fired it twice at the Big daddy's head, to break the suit and then to break the grafted head inside. He then raised his head and looked around for the Little Sister. It was to no avail, she escaped when her Big Daddy crumpled. BurnHeart took one last look at the Big Daddy and raised the laser one more time. He fired it at the big daddy's chest, leaving a smoking hole. It was unknown even to BurnHeart what impulsed him to do this to his victims, but none the less it would cause terror to see a Big Daddy killed in this way. He then screamed and started in a run down the street, trying to find the escaped little sister.</s> <\|message\|>Mr. Bubbles and Olivia Olivia and Mr. Bubbles - The streets of Rapture - Each other Mr. Bubbles stopped when he heard the sound of BurnHeart roaring somewhere in the distance. On his shoulders, he could feel Olivia begin to shake with fear. "It's him" Olivia whimpered "He's coming this way!". Mr. Bubbles attempted to comfort Olivia, but then a 2nd roar echoed through the street they were walking through. This time it was closer. "We have to hide!" Olivia insisted before jumping off Mr. Bubbles and running into a nearby shop. Mr. Bubbles looked in the direction of the roar. Their last encounter with BurnHeart almost cost Olivia and Mr. Bubbles their lives. Mr. Bubbles wasn't eager for round 2. Mr. Bubbles turned back towards the shop where Olivia had gone to hide and walked in after her.</s> <\|message\|>Maya Maya - Streets of Rapture - Bart, unknown A horrific scream made Maya's blood turn to ice, freezing her in her tracks. What... was...? Bart made a noise of warning, his drill arm rising in front of them. Maya patted his arm, trying to calm him. If they ran into anything other then splicers Bart would have a hard time and would be in even worse shape. "It's okay," she said soothingly. "Whatever it is, it isn't going to bother us," she said, praying that was true. "Let's just start heading for home okay?" As they moved cautiously towards the train that would take them towards Pauper's Drop, Maya listened for any other sound from whatever that thing had been. It certainly hadn't been a Little Sister and it hadn't sounded like a Splicer either. It had sounded almost like a Big Daddy, but not how they were supposed to sound. Maybe Bart wasn't the only Big Daddy that was falling into disrepair. It wouldn't surprise her. They had found several bodies of Big Daddies that had been mutilated and picked apart for loot and pieces of their weapons and armor. The curious thing had been that some of them had large holes on their chests. It was nerve-racking, but then when you lived in a hell like Rapture nerve-racking was normal. A high-pitched alarm startled Maya and she dropped her bag to cover her ears. A bright light illuminated her, hurting her eyes. Damn security camera! She had walked right into it's line of sight! Even with Ryan dead and gone the cameras still worked. The light and noise was gone a moment later when Bart ripped the thing off of the wall and stomped on it, crushing it to pieces under his heavy boot. "Thank you," Maya said and quickly grabbed her bag. They needed to move quicker now because if anything or anyone was nearby the noise from the camera was like a dinner bell clanging, an alert to a possible target.</s> <\|message\|>BurnHeart BurnHeart - Streets of Rapture - The Unfortunate... BurnHeart swung his head around to look for the Camera he heard but he caught a hint of motion in the street he was now running down. He took a moment to process this information and he thought he had the most chance of finding a victim on... The distinct screech of a door opening caught BurnHeart's attention. His mind echoed with rage and he screamed ferociously. The noise of the door was screeching through his mind and it made him furious. Instead of following the basic train of thought that he was beginning to formulate he sprinted through the street, traveling to the source of the noise in four bounding leaps. He looked through the window but was unable to conclude if anything was in it. He made a low rumbling noise of curiosity similar to that of other Big Daddies. It also had a hint of sadness that one could detect in his voice always, just now more observable. His lights flashed bright yellow for a second before bounding back to the deep red. He stuck his head through a gash in the window and once again saw nothing. His voice returning to a bone chilling scream he bounded through the window, shattering the glass. He looked around, but he yet again just could not find anything. He refused for that to be the answer. He began tearing the shop apart, looking for his prey.</s> <\|message\|>Mason Lockwood Mason – Streets of Rapture — Himself Water had filled his lungs. The exploration team he had been assigned on was dead; at least that's the only logical assumption. The team he had joined were sent to find the undisclosed location directly, while others searched topside for clues as to the natural entryway into…well, where they were going, what they were finding was never told to Mason. He was just there to help out with maintenance. A simple task. The small expedition sub carried only a handful of people, many of which were scientist or smart people who obviously got more than a college degree. Of all those people, all those important individuals, Mason couldn't help wonder why a loser like himself survived. If he survives, that is. As he lay on his side, Mason began to cough violently, water and saliva spewing out of his mouth. He took several long and deep gasps, trying to catch as much breath as he could. After several minutes, he was able to muster up an ounce of composure and strength to push his body up with his hands. He looked behind him, staring in disbelief at the airtight door that he had struggled to open. Just a few moments ago he was on the other side of that door; he was deep in the ocean, frantically trying to get the door to open. Before Mason could attempt to even stand on his feet a sudden rush of pain shot through his right arm. His arm gave out and he fell back onto the cold steel floor. He must have injured himself in the escape. Okay, he thought to himself, gotta go, gotta find out where I am… With some effort, he managed to rise to his feet, holding his right arm with his left in an effort to ease the pain. He stared forward at the second airlock and took in a deep breath before unlocking it. He could hear the gears turning as the door started to open up, revealing a dark room. He took a single step and immediately felt a chill run through his body. There's death in this place. Not just the room, but the whole structure in its entirety. Something wasn't right about this place, wherever the hell it is. Still, there was nowhere to go, nowhere to run. Mason continued through the room, not paying any attention to the multitude of oversized diving suits and helmets hanging on the walls. He reached a normal door and pushed it open, revealing something he was unprepared to see. It was a street. A dirty, filthy, rundown street. It bore an uncanny resemblance to some of the streets he'd see back home. But, he's not home; he's miles upon miles deep in the Atlantic Ocean. "Christ…" he uttered under his breath. As his mind was processing all he was seeing, Mason's whole body froze, his heart pounding erratically in his chest. In the distance, there came a bone chilling groan that was now all too familiar to Mason. This was the noise he had heard before something, or someone, attacked their sub. "Ffffuck."</s>	<\|message\|>Mr. Bubbles and Olivia Olivia and Mr. Bubbles - Abandoned shop - BurnHeart and little sister vent By the time BurnHeart entered the shop Olivia and Mr. Bubbles were near the back of the shop. Olivia was cowering in fear as BurnHeart began to tear the shop apart. Seeing Olivia afraid caused Mr. Bubbles' protective instincts to kick in. Mr. Bubbles sprang from hiding and attacked. 1st he deployed his mini turret, which began firing on BurnHeart. Mr. Bubbles then started firing heat seeking rockets at BurnHeart in an attempt to bring down the frenzied daddy as quickly as possible. While this was happening, Olivia spotted a little sister vent outside the shop. Moving quickly, she slipped past the fighting, left the shop, and climbed into the vent.</s>
<\|description\|>Mason Lockwood Age: 20 Occupation: Mechanic/Handyman Weapons: A monkey wrench Abilities / Plasmids : TBA Brief Bio: Mason had a pretty average upbringing but was taught early in life to be independent and not rely on others so much. He learned the value of working toward your goal, mostly through hard labor. His dad took pride in having a son among all daughters and would often take time to teach the boy practical skills. His father passed away before he graduated High School and he went on to work odd jobs for his Uncle. He enjoyed his work but found he was getting bored of his average lifestyle and job. He began experimenting with various substances and became addicted. After months, he cleaned up his act in order to get a job and make a living for himself. Eventually, he landed a job working as a handyman in a research lab of sorts. One day, a man from the facility approached him, searching for his boss in hopes that he could accompany a small team of researchers on an underwater expedition. As luck would have it, his boss was out on a personal leave. Mason saw the opportunity to escape his mundane life, if only for a while, and volunteered to take his place, despite his lack in experience. Other: Is the furthest thing to a lady's man. Prone to addiction. Enjoys snacks.</s> <\|message\|>Angelo Ortega Angelo Ortega-lighthouse 26-bathasphere Angelo was getting transported to a lighthouse off the pacific ocean. Angelo was a great mechanic and he was recognized as such by the state and as a result he was told he would be fixing an important lighthouse in the ocean, obviously Angelo was hesitant in doing so but they pushed his buttons saying he was to young for the job and of course Angelo felt he needed to prove he was just as good if not better then any federal mechanic. Angelo was being dropped off by a speed boat and all his repair supplies were in the bag next to him they kept saying that their was a problem with both its bulb and its support in the oceans current so he needed to work on a way to keep it afloat so he needed to go to its basement and check to see if the water was going in. Once Angelo got onto its small dock which in reality was just some wood going out towards the sea from the stairs leading inside the lighthouse he started walking inside seeing the large metal doors and at first Angelo knocked then it just creepily opened "ah now this is classic" Angelo said softly sighing a little as he took out his shotgun from his bag obviously being suspicious of whatever was in the shadows he started walking up the stairs to the top of the lighthouse and he was seeing some memorabilia about a place of freedom and where all men were left to their own devices, obviously Angelo couldn't care less as long as he did his job. Angelo got to the top and he found the light bulb not shinning in the sky so he found the fuse box nearby and he changed a few wires and turned on the power to the entire lighthouse and Angelo believed they just sent him to do an idiots job. Angelo soon went all the way back down towards the basement and Angelo could see a submarine or some sort of sphere in a small pool, obviously this lighthouse was used for more then just lighting a way for the ships that would pass and was probably used by divers in the 70s considering how old it looked. Angelo looked around and used some plastering mold on the walls where it sprung a leak and Angelo curiosity got to him since it seemed so old it may be a good relic to take to a museum. Angelo walked into the bathosphere and saw it close behind him Angelo tried to get out but then it did a scan and it said unidentified user, unidentified user Angelo thought that seemed pretty advanced for something so old so Angelo walked to a small panel and Angelo started to twist some wires and it did a scan again and this time said welcome Mr. fontaine please enjoy the ride Angelo said "what the hell I wanted you to let me out!" Angelo groaned but sat down as the bathosphere started to take him down where Angelo started to see a city at the bottom of the sea...</s> <\|message\|>Mr. Bubbles and Olivia Olivia and Mr. Bubbles - The streets of Rapture - Splicers and 'angels' Olivia was happily skipping along a glass corridor, humming a merry tune in time to the thuds of Mr. Bubbles' footsteps. Mr. Bubbles was lumbering after his little sister, looking around for any signs of danger. They happened along a corpse. But in Olivia's eyes, it was a sleeping angel. "Look look!" Olivia said excitedly "It's an angel!". Olivia skipped over to the 'angel' to gather ADAM. but as she did so, 4 spider splicers dropped onto Mr. Bubbles and began clawing at him with their hooks. While this was happening a pair of brutes came out of hiding and tried to grab Olivia. Olivia cried out in fear, causing Mr. Bubbles' helmet lights to turn red. He threw 1 spider splicer to the ground and crushed its head beneath his boot. Mr. Bubbles shot the 2nd spider into the air with his rocket launcher and watched as it blew up like a firework. The 3rd and 4th had the sense to run, but were gunned down by the mini-turret Mr. Bubbles deployed for the brutes. When Mr. Bubbles turned his attention to the brutes they abandoned their pursuit of Olivia and instead attacked Mr. Bubbles, who grabbed their heads and bashed them together until he saw skull. When it was over, Olivia ran over to Mr. Bubbles and hugged his leg. Mr. Bubbles knelt down and hugged Olivia back before picking her up and carrying her on his shoulders away from the scene.</s> <\|message\|>BurnHeart BurnHeart - The Streets of Rapture - Another Big Daddy RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHG! BurnHeart was loudly lumbering through the streets, his drill making loud obnoxious noises as it randomly turned on and off. His gun was slung across his back but was easy enough to whip out should a melee fight overwhelm him. As he prowled through the streets, another Big Daddy paired with a little sister saw BurnHeart and grunted in disgust before walking away into a complex. He took note of the Big Daddy's ragged suit and lack of little sister. It was almost a sign of misconduct for a Big Daddy to not have one, or at least it was a way for them to rank their kind being their rather lack of real smarts. BurnHeart however was as ravenous as an animal and he heard the steps of the other Big Daddy echo across the streets he raised his drill into the air and it make a horrible screaming buzz as it spun through the air. It made the other little sister shriek. The big daddy that entered the complex was aware of this and in a bright flash his helmet turned red and he spun back to face his challenger. "GRAAAAAAAHH" BurnHeart shouted, stumbling towards the unnamed Big Daddy. The other Big Daddy braced himself for the brute force of a Rosie but instead found the sharp force of a drill being pressed against his arm. It broke the suit and began drilling into the Big Daddy's grafted arm. It was the Big Daddies turn to scream. BurnHeart raised his arm and swung it down at the other Big Daddy's head, crumpling it. He raised his Ion Laser from his back at fired it twice at the Big daddy's head, to break the suit and then to break the grafted head inside. He then raised his head and looked around for the Little Sister. It was to no avail, she escaped when her Big Daddy crumpled. BurnHeart took one last look at the Big Daddy and raised the laser one more time. He fired it at the big daddy's chest, leaving a smoking hole. It was unknown even to BurnHeart what impulsed him to do this to his victims, but none the less it would cause terror to see a Big Daddy killed in this way. He then screamed and started in a run down the street, trying to find the escaped little sister.</s> <\|message\|>Mr. Bubbles and Olivia Olivia and Mr. Bubbles - The streets of Rapture - Each other Mr. Bubbles stopped when he heard the sound of BurnHeart roaring somewhere in the distance. On his shoulders, he could feel Olivia begin to shake with fear. "It's him" Olivia whimpered "He's coming this way!". Mr. Bubbles attempted to comfort Olivia, but then a 2nd roar echoed through the street they were walking through. This time it was closer. "We have to hide!" Olivia insisted before jumping off Mr. Bubbles and running into a nearby shop. Mr. Bubbles looked in the direction of the roar. Their last encounter with BurnHeart almost cost Olivia and Mr. Bubbles their lives. Mr. Bubbles wasn't eager for round 2. Mr. Bubbles turned back towards the shop where Olivia had gone to hide and walked in after her.</s> <\|message\|>Maya Maya - Streets of Rapture - Bart, unknown A horrific scream made Maya's blood turn to ice, freezing her in her tracks. What... was...? Bart made a noise of warning, his drill arm rising in front of them. Maya patted his arm, trying to calm him. If they ran into anything other then splicers Bart would have a hard time and would be in even worse shape. "It's okay," she said soothingly. "Whatever it is, it isn't going to bother us," she said, praying that was true. "Let's just start heading for home okay?" As they moved cautiously towards the train that would take them towards Pauper's Drop, Maya listened for any other sound from whatever that thing had been. It certainly hadn't been a Little Sister and it hadn't sounded like a Splicer either. It had sounded almost like a Big Daddy, but not how they were supposed to sound. Maybe Bart wasn't the only Big Daddy that was falling into disrepair. It wouldn't surprise her. They had found several bodies of Big Daddies that had been mutilated and picked apart for loot and pieces of their weapons and armor. The curious thing had been that some of them had large holes on their chests. It was nerve-racking, but then when you lived in a hell like Rapture nerve-racking was normal. A high-pitched alarm startled Maya and she dropped her bag to cover her ears. A bright light illuminated her, hurting her eyes. Damn security camera! She had walked right into it's line of sight! Even with Ryan dead and gone the cameras still worked. The light and noise was gone a moment later when Bart ripped the thing off of the wall and stomped on it, crushing it to pieces under his heavy boot. "Thank you," Maya said and quickly grabbed her bag. They needed to move quicker now because if anything or anyone was nearby the noise from the camera was like a dinner bell clanging, an alert to a possible target.</s> <\|message\|>BurnHeart BurnHeart - Streets of Rapture - The Unfortunate... BurnHeart swung his head around to look for the Camera he heard but he caught a hint of motion in the street he was now running down. He took a moment to process this information and he thought he had the most chance of finding a victim on... The distinct screech of a door opening caught BurnHeart's attention. His mind echoed with rage and he screamed ferociously. The noise of the door was screeching through his mind and it made him furious. Instead of following the basic train of thought that he was beginning to formulate he sprinted through the street, traveling to the source of the noise in four bounding leaps. He looked through the window but was unable to conclude if anything was in it. He made a low rumbling noise of curiosity similar to that of other Big Daddies. It also had a hint of sadness that one could detect in his voice always, just now more observable. His lights flashed bright yellow for a second before bounding back to the deep red. He stuck his head through a gash in the window and once again saw nothing. His voice returning to a bone chilling scream he bounded through the window, shattering the glass. He looked around, but he yet again just could not find anything. He refused for that to be the answer. He began tearing the shop apart, looking for his prey.</s>	<\|message\|>Mason Lockwood Mason – Streets of Rapture — Himself Water had filled his lungs. The exploration team he had been assigned on was dead; at least that's the only logical assumption. The team he had joined were sent to find the undisclosed location directly, while others searched topside for clues as to the natural entryway into…well, where they were going, what they were finding was never told to Mason. He was just there to help out with maintenance. A simple task. The small expedition sub carried only a handful of people, many of which were scientist or smart people who obviously got more than a college degree. Of all those people, all those important individuals, Mason couldn't help wonder why a loser like himself survived. If he survives, that is. As he lay on his side, Mason began to cough violently, water and saliva spewing out of his mouth. He took several long and deep gasps, trying to catch as much breath as he could. After several minutes, he was able to muster up an ounce of composure and strength to push his body up with his hands. He looked behind him, staring in disbelief at the airtight door that he had struggled to open. Just a few moments ago he was on the other side of that door; he was deep in the ocean, frantically trying to get the door to open. Before Mason could attempt to even stand on his feet a sudden rush of pain shot through his right arm. His arm gave out and he fell back onto the cold steel floor. He must have injured himself in the escape. Okay, he thought to himself, gotta go, gotta find out where I am… With some effort, he managed to rise to his feet, holding his right arm with his left in an effort to ease the pain. He stared forward at the second airlock and took in a deep breath before unlocking it. He could hear the gears turning as the door started to open up, revealing a dark room. He took a single step and immediately felt a chill run through his body. There's death in this place. Not just the room, but the whole structure in its entirety. Something wasn't right about this place, wherever the hell it is. Still, there was nowhere to go, nowhere to run. Mason continued through the room, not paying any attention to the multitude of oversized diving suits and helmets hanging on the walls. He reached a normal door and pushed it open, revealing something he was unprepared to see. It was a street. A dirty, filthy, rundown street. It bore an uncanny resemblance to some of the streets he'd see back home. But, he's not home; he's miles upon miles deep in the Atlantic Ocean. "Christ…" he uttered under his breath. As his mind was processing all he was seeing, Mason's whole body froze, his heart pounding erratically in his chest. In the distance, there came a bone chilling groan that was now all too familiar to Mason. This was the noise he had heard before something, or someone, attacked their sub. "Ffffuck."</s>
<\|description\|>Koyo-Shi - Ame no nuhoko - brahmasta Appearance: "Sir, I found a hollow mask. May I keep it?" Age: 182 Height: 5'2 Hair Colour: Ash Brown Eye Colour: Deep Purple Birthday: October 24th Clan/Family: In talks to be adopted into a family Race: Shinigami Profession: Shinigami Rank: Squad 13 - Lieutenant Spiritual Energy Color: Golden with tint of orange Power Level: High Lieutenant Personality: Despite the girls drowsy/ clumsy and rather calm demeanor, there hides a truly great large intellect under it all. She has a almost 'fan girl' like respect for captains, often trying to get them to sign things. She seems to enjoy fighting a lot, even more so on the side of tactics, however she has been known to 'snap' in a way and her glare becoming a well known scary accompaniment to this. Raw power is only as good as those that use it, and the ones that use it wisely are the strongest of all, this is the belief she wishes to prove to her family. However, despite this she still holds fear, fear of no longer being in control of her own power... She hopes this fear will never come to pass. History: Ko was not a high born girl at first, she never thought that luck would one day shine her way but after crawling up from the gutter she came into her own during the tests to become a Shinigami. The deciding factor was the Zanpakuto that was already at her side, giving her a big advantage over the others. She had no idea wear she claimed such a blade, only that it was drenched in blood when she did so, a fact she has not forgotten but chooses to ignore thanks to the power gifted to her by the sword. During these tests she was noticed by one of the visiting clans, impressing the head through her attitude and skill which now has allowed her to secure a place among the Shinigami and soon enough to be adopted within the family. Relationships/Friendships/Rivalries/Siblings: WIP Other: Is never seen without her colorful scarf that represents her namesake of colorful leaves Uses the Iaijutsu style of swordsmanship along with more common styles. Has a jug of fruity sake Byakuya Kenpachi Mayuri ~Zanpakuto~ Zanpakuto name: Kogane no aki Type: Kido/Physical Zanpakuto Shikai Release command:"Saw through them Kogane no aki!" Spirit Appearance: The fluffy scarf around her neck flows out behind her while leaves fall from its edges. Inner world: Sealed appearance: Shikai appearance: The sword retains its sheer size of a orochi, while the blade also turns black and gains a serrated edge. From its hilt it has a long piece of cloth flowing from the bell on the end. The bell reacts to spirit pressure, and the ends of all the cloth that the user wears infinitely breaks apart into golden leaves which flow around the user. Bankai appearance: The sound of shattering chains echo out from Koyo, her head and body pounding from the pain as something forces its way into her very being, and for a moment her lips part as if they are being forced to speak the word; "Bankai..." With that Aki is unleashed,chains burst from the hilt of the sword to start wrapping around Koyo's body, her hair taking on a much darker hair with her purple eyes being replaced by golden orbs. Her sword dosen't change, but it is clear that whoever is using it has... Shikai skills: 1. Never Ending Fall: The leaves that fall from her clothing and the cloth of the sword never stops, and they will follow the user around and act on their own. Covering for their master in attacks or distracting the enemy. They produce 5 leaves over time {Or per post or so?} with 10 being produced when she first uses her Shikai 2. The Fallen's Revenge: Ko slashes through the leaves that surround her, and for each leaf slashed a traveling sword attack follows. This power increases the more leaves that are cut by her sword and so the more time passes the more leaves she can cut. This also works for casting Kido where she can channel the cast from the leaf instead of herself. Uses 1 leaf 3. Leaf Fake: By sacrificing her leaves she is able to make a copy of herself which is able to interact with the world, though it is only a fraction as powerful it still retains the same spirit pressure. Of course this means she loses leaves to attack with. Uses 10 Leaves 4. Saw Through: This is in fact one of the main abilities of Kogane no aki. When drawn the edge of the serrated blade hums like hundred of falling leaves, its edge covered with golden Reiatsu which acts much like a chainsaw when striking. This technique only lasts for three posts, at which point Ko much re-sheath her blade and draw it again, to 'rev' it with power. When striking a leaf with this technique it sends out loads of tiny slashes instead of just one big one. 5. hyakunin giri 6. 7. 8. Chains of Punishment: The chains that once bound the spirit Kogane no aki are now able to be summoned into the real world through the sleeves of the users robes. These chains have large black sword like objects attached to them. These swords and chains can be summoned from the leaves that fall from Bankai skills: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. (Ultimate Skill) Non-lethal Zanpakuto Skills: Skills Zanjutsu Hozuri (3) Shitonegaeshi (3) Hozan Kenbu (3) Ryodan (3) Senmaioroshi (3) Suikawari (3) Agitowari (3) Onibi (3) Hitotsume: Nadegiri (3) Kido Hado #1 Sho (3) #4 Byakurai (3) #11 Tsuzuri Raiden (3) #31 Shakkaho (3) #32 Okasen (3) #33 Sokatsui (3) #34 Kongobaku (3) #40 Gaki Rekko (3) #54 Haien (3) #58 Tenran (3) #63 Raikoho (3) #73 Soren Sokatsui (3) Bakudo #1 Sai (3) #4 Hainawa (3) #8 Seki (3) #9 Geki (3) #9 Horin (3) #11 Kyomon (3) #12 Fushibi (3) #20 Hakufuku (3) #21 Sekienton (3) #22 Inemuri (3) #26 Kyokko (3) #27 Tanma Otoshi (3) #28 Shibireyubi (3) #30 Shitotsu Sansen (3) #37 Tsuriboshi (3) #39 Enkosen (3) #58 Kakushitsuijaku (3) #61 Rikujokoro (3) #62 Hyapporankan (3) #63 Sajo Sabaku (3) #65 El Escudo (3) #73 Tozansho (3) #75 Gochutekkan (3) #76 Hako Okuri (3) #77 Tenteikura (3) #78 Hakudan Keppeki (3) Hakuda Shunkō (3) Tessho (3) Tsukiyubi (3) Chōhigezutsuki (3) Kazaguruma (3) Gatoringu Jidanda (3) Sandobaggu Bīto (3) Kagamibiraki (3) Oni Dekopin (3) Ikkotsu (3) Raiōken (3) Sōkotsu (3) Hoho Shunpo (3) Total points gained: 172 Total Points Spent: 0 Mission log: Sparring: 5 Points Karakura Town Defense 2 hollows: 7 Points Time skip: 160 Points spent and skills gained: 0</s> <\|message\|>Rui Aizheng Well that was one rude bastard. Who in their right mind talks to a captain like that? Especially an unseated squadless shinigami fresh out of the academy. That's just a one way ticket to a world of pain, more so with a captain that hated his job. Zheng just stood there silently and observed this guy's zanpukto. Gauntlets huh? Looked like he wasn't the only one with a hakuda enhancing zanpukto. He wondered if he was going to be forced to fight this guy as a part of the test or not. It was a shame that they weren't allowed to use their zanpukto's in spars anymore. Hopefully this guy doesn't care and let them do it anyway. "Heh, he's a go getter eh Kamon? Huh, Kamon?" He turned to Kamon and saw that the mod soul was watching a butterfly with great interest. "...God dammit Kamon."</s> <\|message\|>Aya Oda @AbigailTenshi "Hahaha, die! die!!" Aya shouted swinging her sword left to right, up to down, and all around. Hacking away at the hollows that got near her. Since her sword was big enough she had a little circle to keep them at bay. Of course the hole was gradually shrinking with the oncoming hollows, yet she did her best to drive them back. It wasn't until one spiritual energy suddenly plummeted that she stopped her assault and looked in the direction it came from. "Bouncy?" Aya mumbled before she heard Shinzo yell, but he was too far away to hear clearly. She caught traces of die and run, then his spiritual energy vanished as well. "Run? I can't run sittin buddy. This nest thing is too big to run from. What would happen if they decided to come after us and attacked a district? I'd feel like it'd be all my fault." Aya said looking at the hollows closing around her, before a hollow with a slightly higher energy than the rest came bursting out and punching her across the face and sent her flying further into the horde of hollows. From above, she could see just how vast the amount was, it really sucked she didn't know that technique from the captain yet. As she crash landed, she jumped to her feet only to feel something sharp pierce her stomach. She look but only saw beady eyes that hid among the couple of hollows that both smacked her in the face. blood shot out of her mouth a she stumbled back with that beady eyed hollow's arm pulling out of her. Blood trailed down her stomach and leaked onto the ground. She raised her sword and swung where those eyes last were, but all she did was slay common hollows. She then felt something slash at her lower back which left a slightly deep cut about five inches big, that bleed out too. She grit her teeth, as she swung her sword in a circle cutting hollow after hollow in half, but not that beady eye one that seemed to stalk her. "Come one fucker, just you and me! Its how I tried to plan this anyway. Get here before the other two so only I had to be at risk. But I wasn't fucking fast enough and now Bouncy and Sitting buddy are probably in dire conditions! I don't care if I bite the bullet, but I'm making sure you come with me!" Aya shouted which resulted in not her being attacked by the hollow, but a hollow being thrown at her. It wouldn't be such a bad thing, it it wasn't three times her size. So It squashed her like a bug, and she hacked up blood while blood sprayed a bit from the wound to her stomach. While her power went up it was almost laughable, power increase was usually a good thing, but in Aya's case it wasn't. Mostly since it meant she was losing badly. Yet she stood back up and held up her sword as she motioned for all of them to bring it.</s> <\|message\|>Zento Ray Zento Ray Zento, no longer had any reason to doubt Koyo. She demonstrated excellent sword skill and ability, despite being a bite reckless. With a series of acrobatics, she was able to push the hollow off its feet. Unfortunately, this was not simplistic Hollow, suddenly it's face darkened as it fell. Zento's eyes widened, as he watched, he realized that it had been waiting for this. It's arms contorted, it's elbow switching directions, literally. It caught itself, before pushing it's body up, sudden a red ball of energy formed on its mouth. Zento knew exactly what the was, "Cero!" he yelled glancing at Koyo before Shunpo'ing into the air. The Hollow fired a red beam at were Koyo and Zento were originally standing, and an explosion rocked the whole block. The ground was on fire, and a large crater had formed from the blast. When the smoke cleared, the Hollow had disappeared. Zento jumped down and walked over to the place the the Hollow was originally standing. "Damn, it escaped." He mumbled, it must have ran when it's Mask was chipped. "Good job." He said back at Koyo, she had proved beyond a doubt that she could help herself.</s>	<\|message\|>Koyo-Shi - Ame no nuhoko - brahmasta "Fast little-," Koyo barely got out her words of surprise as the hollow sprung up from her attack and charged up a cero, the crimson light bathing her as if she was its current target out of revenge. Springing back to the empty sheath of her blade she grabbed onto it and leaping into the air, the intense blast almost catching her in the process! Watching the dust from the blast clear Koyo gave off a unsatisfied sigh as she sheathed her sword. The dull gray blade catching her eye and even making her frown, as she could swear it was almost as if it was mocking her. "Sorry, I should have tried to take it down in one swing" She said but looked a little happy at the fact given the fact Zento had told her she had done a good job, that was good enough for her. "Do you think he will return right away? Or maybe he is still around waiting?" She was unsure on that, kind of hoping he was gone for good for now.</s>
<\|description\|>Kuroda Kyoichi Appearance: Moderately tall, standing at 6'2". Dark of hair, kept medium length and usually in a pony tail. Athletically built, lean but not frail. Blue eyed, holds fierce expression. Age: 320 soul years, looks approximately 16 in human years. Gender: Male Hair Colour: Black/Dark Blue Birthday:May 29th Clan/Family:Kuroda (Kurisa, you'd better approve this..) Race:Tainted Soul(Kurisa, you remember why...) Profession:Shinigami. Official judge of the tea ceremony club Rank: Lieutenant of Squad Eight Spiritual Energy Colour: Blue, with orange streaks. Power Level: High lieutenant Personality: If ever there was someone who is first heard then seen, Kyoichi would be it. Boisterous and carefree, Kyoichi walks his path with absolute certainty. He carries about him an air of arrogance, a sense of trust first and foremost in himself. Slightly insane, he will dive head first into any challenging situation before assessing his chances of success. All of those traits aside, he is quite joyous, often found joking and chatting idly with anyone he meets. Strong willed, he is not easily discouraged. All in all, Kyoichi is the neighborhood jokester who likes to enjoy whatever his life has to offer him, just take whatever he says with a grain of salt. History: Every year for as long as Kyoichi can remember, there has been a ceremony held by his immediate family revolving around a sword. To him, at his young age, it just look like a blue piece of metal held up on a shrine. He simply did what he was told and then enjoyed the food his mother and grandmother took literally hours and hours to prepare. His father and grandfather carried out intricate rituals to cleanse and polish the sword, something Kyoichi was taught to do ever since he started taking part in the ceremony... Other than that, Kyoichi carried on with school, joining any club that seeming interesting to him. Sports, literary, debate, his choices were quite diverse as he found many things to be of interest to him. His grades did not suffer because of his incessant need to find new things and unending curiosity for new subjects. His fifteenth birthday rolled around. He finally got his chance to at least hold the sacred sword his family has enshrined for as long as he can remember. When the ceremony came to pass, everything changed. His grandfather instructed him to retrieve the sword and unsheathe it for the cleansing and polishing that was done each year. When he did as he was told, a burst of blue and orange energy poured out from the sword and was absorbed by Kyoichi. Kyoichi himself did not see it or feel it, however, everyone else around him saw it happen in what seemed like slow motion. His grandfather remembers a story told to him by his grandfather about the prophecy around the sword. One day, a child born of his roots will be able to call on the spirit that resides in the sword and carry out his sacred task. After the event, his grandfather asked Kyoichi to sheathe the sword and they moved the shrine to his room and it was kept there until the day he left for Bugei Academy. Getting into the academy was not a huge problem as his family has ties with a powerful family from antiquity. It helped that Kyoichi had top of the notch grades and loads of extracurricular experience. On the day he was leaving, his grandfather retrieve the sacred sword personally and handed it to him, telling him about the story around the sword. He then asked him, as a final command regarding the sword, to keep the sword safe at all times and learn to use it to its fullest. Accepting the task, Kyoichi set off to start his secondary education at Bugei Academy. One year after that, he was struck with a terrible, and odd disease. Unknown and incurable, it took him very quickly. For some reason, he felt as if his family knew of this. They did not try as hard as they could to bring him back, instead, they just let him pass. Arriving at Soul Society, he met up with his ancestors, who were all shinigamis before him, all the way up to the patriarch, Kuroda Kenshin. One afternoon, Kenshin sat the young Kyoichi down and explained everything to him. The disease that took him was in fact hereditary, and was called Tainted Soul. Kenshin was the first to be afflicted with this, and he told him the story of his first...outburst. He also told him why his grandfather's name is Sengoku, and the reasoning behind it all. Now that he is here, Kenshin expects his fourth generation descendent to join a proper squad and be a productive member of the Gotei 13. Relationships/Friendships/Rivalries/Siblings: All are still alive- Kuroda Sengoku (85) Grandfather Kuroda Yuuko (83) Grandmother Kuroda Kenshin (52) Father Kuroda Natsu (50) Mother Kuroda Yunko (12) Sister Other: Pair of sunglasses, not particularly extravagant. A old pipe and pouch, given to him by Kenshin the First ~Zanpakuto~ Zanpakuto name: The Furnace Type: Zanpakuto Shikai Release command: Bring to life the essence of the Living Flame! Spirit Appearance: Spirit Personality/Goals: Quite serious, his zanpakuto does not bend nor does it yield. Harsh, it does not tolerate weakness. Driven, it is determined to take the title of "Strongest Fire Type" from the legendary Ryūjin Jakka. Inner world: Sealed appearance: Katana. The blade is tinted red, and the guard and sheath is gold. The handle is white and wrapped with a purple cloth. Shikai appearance:A golden mace, lit on both ends with golden flames. Bankai appearance:A large, brown mace. Lit in the middle with dark red flames. There are ancient glyphs that glow on both sides of the weapon, pulsing with the flame. Shikai skills: (Start off with no Shikai or 4 to 5 Shikai skills) 1. Burning Orb- Kyoichi swings his mace, firing a fireball in the swing's direction (No Cooldown, usable each post) 2. Decimating Smash- Bring his mace down into the ground, Kyoichi lights the ground around him, in a 5 feet radius, aflame and stuns anyone caught in the blast (1 post cooldown) 3. Vicious Strikes- Kyoichi swings his mace twice. If either of the two swings connect as a hit, he can immediately launch a Burning Orb at close range at the enemy (3 post cooldown) 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. Bankai skills: 1. Mercurial Blast- Kyoichi fires off three empowered Burning Orbs in quick succession. These orbs will seem unpredictable, but they are truly homing blasts sent towards the enemy(No cooldown, usable each post) 2. Soul Furnace- Empowering his Decimating Smash, the radius is now increased to 15 feet, and the blast now continuously pulses after the smash at the site (2 post cooldown) 3. Reckless Swings- Kyoichi swings his mace four times and if any of the four swings connect, he can immediately chain the hit into a Mercurial Blast (3 post cooldown) 4. Bloodlust- By consuming the flames contained with his mace, Kyoichi transforms into a rage-infused monster. Each strike will lit the enemy aflame. Can only be used once per thread 5. Last Breath- Charging at his enemy, Kyoichi leads with his flame-imbued mace in a dashing attack (2 post cooldown) 6. Dragon's Descent- Kyoichi summons a dragon-shaped meteor down from the skies to strike the battlefield. Once struck, the battlefield will have pillars of flames appear randomly (Usable only when Bloodlust is activated, thus only usable once per thread) Non-lethal Zanpakuto Skills: Skills (Note: The skills below are the ones learned in the Academy. You may pick and choose which ones you want from what is listed below already. You can have all the skills already given to you or perhaps challenge yourself a little and Handicap your character in some area's) Zanjutsu Hozuri (1) Shitonegaeshi (1) Kido Bakudo #1 Sai (1) #4 Hainawa (1) Hado #1 Sho (1) #4 Byakurai (1) #31 Shakkaho (1) #32 Okasen (1) #33 Sokatsui (1) Hakuda Tessho (1) Hoho Shunpo (1) Total points gained: Total Points Spent: Mission log: Points spent and skills gained:</s> <\|message\|>Aya Oda @Kurisa Aya Oda Aya after getting her pole fixed since her cousin went and fucked it up with the whole cutting it down, she would begin to feel the ground shake and watch her pole fall back down. "GOD DAMNIT!" She shouted and listened to the voice that sounded. "Wait wha?" She muttered before the blinding light and then..... nothing. She was in the same spot as last time and would look around confused. "Im kicking whoever caused the fucking earthquake, and I'm making him fix my damn pole." Aya mumbled walking away a bit but stopped when a shockwave went right by her face and a ton of debris that Shinzo himself caused. Aya just dodged all the flying wood and look at the gaping hole and walked into his office and stared at Shinzo who was alone after Juki left. ".... He owes me a new pole. Did you mention my pole? The pole is very important." --- @Phobos@Kurisa Ike "Oh just great, they taste amazing at first, then after you ingest the flavor into your system long enough then its just food that you eat." Ike said answering her on how they tasted. "Oh wait, I'm suppose to promote everything like a good worker does. Lets see hmmm. Oh yes, they are just the perfect blend of flavors. Even though I work back there he doesn't tell me nothing about how he makes them, truly C is a god at making dumplings." Ike said giving a wink and thumbs up to Yakima before slouching back at his table, after shoving a dumpling in his mouth.</s> <\|message\|>Kuroda Kyoichi The time is now half past five, for anyone that is observing. For Kyoichi, it seems as if time has been standing still for as long as he has been inside that temple. The monk, acting as if nothing was out of place, stood still with his staff in his hand. "Your forefathers would be ashamed. It has taken you, a supposed prodigal child, too long to understand the meaning of my words. One must flow like the mighty river in order to temper the flames that burn within. Take that to heart, child, and you will find that your skills grows five-fold. Until then, you must receive these rods in penance." The monk said, moving in a shunpo-esque motion. Kyoichi, still befuddled, was trying to raise his sword to block as fast as he could. However, the monk's staff struck hard and true, literally beating Kyoichi all over the ground. Finally, after what seemed like hours of beating, Kyoichi stood up and paced back, eyes fully closed. "Flow...like water..." He said. His reiatsu, to those that can see it, seemed calm but still containing that sense of wildness that he has always had. With one deep breath, he opened his eyes and said "I understand now, master Monk." He held his sword loosely in his right hand. "Then come and test your understanding, baka disciple..." The monk said, displaying a wild grin that is not supposed to appear on a man of spirituality. Taking one hard step forward, Kyoichi shunpo'ed towards the monk and swung his sword arm upwards at a 45 degree angle. The monk instinctively moved to his right to dodge, only to receive a downward slash on his right shoulder from Kyoichi. "Hm." The monk said, swinging his staff to bat the sword away. Retracting his sword, Kyoichi swung it horizontally at the monk. The monk moving once more to dodge, this time simply moving backwards. However, Kyoichi had switched his sword hand to his left and had thrust the sword forward, piercing the monk at the sternum. "Very good..." The monk said before disappearing in a puff of smoke... Reappearing uninjured, the monk said "You, after many tribulations, have passed my test, you may pass to face your next task, which will be more difficult and will require you to utilize what you have learned here to pass...Also, say hi to the old man you'll meet for me. Simply tell him the monk says hi, he will understand..." Kyoichi, sheathing his sword, said "I will, master." Giving a full bow, he gathered his things and moved on, past the temple and into the mountain path behind it... Flowing like water, Kyoichi is finally learning how to tame the fire that burns within him...</s>	<\|message\|>Kuroda Kyoichi -In the human world- Kyoichi woke. He was taking a simple nap when the even had transpired. Grunting, he stood up from the grassy field and looked about. "Just what in the hell happened..." He said to no one in particular. He spotted three captain, particularly the captains of Squad Four, Nine and Thirteen. Having not heard what was said before he woke, he approached the captain of Squad Thirteen and said "Ma'am, just what is happening? Are we on a special mission or something? There is sure a lot of shinigamis here for a mission..." -Sword Quest- Moving through the mountain path, Kyoichi had spotted a small diner, oddly placed considering the locale. "Yukihira's...sounds interesting..." Securing his sword and backpack, he stepped through the curtained doors of the small diner. "WELCOME!" The chef called out. "Have a seat wherever you'd like sir." The chef continued, without even turning around. "The menu is on the wall. The special today is Scalding Hot Nabeyaki Udon, served with a side of ryukiri beef!" Kyoichi was nodding along to the whole nabeyaki udon part but when the ryukiri beef bit came about, he furrowed his eyebrows and turned to look at the chef. To his surprise, the chef wasn't at the stove...</s>
<\|description\|>Alice Yagami Age - 23 Sex - Female Rank - High Weapons/Equipment - Hidden Ones (Dual Swords), Usurper's Boltstriker (Long Sword), High Rank Zinogre Armor Hunting Companions - Yamba Personality - A very eccentric hunter with an electric and sometimes violent personality, as if she were risen by the monster who's armor she dons. While not hunting, she is usually eating with her Shakalaka companion, Shamba. She tries to stay away from other hunters, but usually wandering eyes will settle on her less than modest clothing. Around other people, Alice loves sparring and wrestling, or any contact sport. She happens to be one of the best arm wrestlers in her hunting guild. While hunting, she usually pairs up with three others, but rarely listens to commands given by her companions. Alice tends to swing her sword somewhat blindly, sometimes hitting nearby hunters, but nonetheless powerful. She becomes ravenous while hunting, shouting war cries with every swing, her ultimate goal in mind being to kill. She rarely goes on capture quests because of this. She will seldom attend the Arena, however she prefers to hunt in the wild, claiming that the large crowd makes her nervous. Likes - Food, killing monsters, contact sports. Dislikes - Capture quests, gathering materials, losing challenges, large crowds. History - Alice grew up around Port Tanzia, her parents both being merchants. Since Port Tanzia was frequented by hunters, she was introduced to them at a very young age. Immediately she became obsessed with the guild, time and time again applying for the Hunters Guild before she was eventually admitted. Her first hunting tasks involved simple gathering and fishing, which bored her quickly. Often she would slaughter Altaroth's that marched past her while gathering mushrooms. She had thought about quitting multiple times, but as her quests started to get geared more towards hunting rather than gathering, she stuck with it. Her climb through the ranks was a tad slow, due to her not being able to complete most capture missions, which became more and more plentiful as she gained in rank. Nonetheless, High Rank was reached in no time. During one of her quests, she was able to befriend a Shakalaka, who was named Shamba. Alice and Shamba have since been inseperable. Name - Shamba Age - Middle-aged (I don't know about the life span of Shakalaka...) Species - Shakalaka Sex - Male Weapons/Equipment - Grill Mask, Boomerang Staff Master - Alice Yagami Personality - A very religious Shakalaka who vigorously follows the practice of dancing. He has studied the art all his life, constantly practicing movements and reading tomes for new dances. He is very wise and analytical, often giving advice to his master Alice, who will seldom listen. Likes - Practicing dance, reading dance texts, meditating. Dislikes - Doing nothing, keeping conversation. History - Shamba grew up in a massive Shakalaka tribe in the depths of a forest. He was the son of the head priest of the tribe, and because of this grew up studying dance alongside his father. He quickly learned the art and master many of the villages dancing, but craved to know more. One day, a hunter traveled through his tribe named Alice. Shamba decided that this would be the time to leave his tribe, as all Shakalaka did at one point. However, unlike most, he left to find the ultimate dance whether then the ultimate mask. Shamba followed Alice home, begging for her to bring her to new lands, for her to show him new and unknown dances. Alice reluctantly agreed, and the two quickly grew fond of each other.</s> <\|message\|>Tybalt Cynthia Leoneart & Tybalt After skinning the G. Jaggi dry, Cynthia and Tybalt began to head back to Minnegrade with their small hull. Finally this boring mission is coming to a close, for all they need to do now is get paid and head back to her apartment. She stops by the client, who thanked her for the materials, and gave her 1,000 Zeni. Just a measly... 1,000. Eh. For a mission like so, it was to be expected, as the more dangerous the monster, the bigger the reward. She nods and thanks the villager kindly as she and her partner walk off. Now she was excruciatingly bored as hell. Soon, her belly begins to growl, as it snaps several unpleasant bites inside her stomach. She remembered she didn't eat a very good breakfast, only a small slice of toast. "Tybalt..." she asks her palico, "Aren't you feeling kinda peckish?" "Yeah I sorta am, nya. Why? You hungry too?" "I am. Lets use our pay to grab something to eat. Our favorite stop is just ahead." Tybalt nods as the two enter their favorite diner, following the delightful smells of the delicious food inside. Cynthia had her favorite dish; marinated steak with a side of fresh greens and Panish to drink, while Tybalt had a King Truffle with some blessed wine. The two sit at a table together and begin to eat. Behind them, was a group of hunters, not more than 3, that were by a table. Cynthia began to consider meeting the hunters, but didn't want to be so hasty. With her ears directed on the conversation, she waits. --- Regionald High in the mountains of Mist Peaks, a swift breeze echoes throughout the valley. As small herd of Kelbi graze on the grasses in the forest below, with migrating Aptonoth marching through the woods, and Bullfangoes forging for mushrooms and truffles. In the trees, a lone male Kechawacha can be seen sleeping in the canopy, his ears disguising his closed eyes. Everything seemed to be in order and under control. Who would dare disrupt the peace? Suddenly, the Kelbi herd sense something coming. The scent of a mighty predator! The next to sense it were the Aptonoths, who groaned in distress as they began to run. The Kelbi began galloping away with them, squealing in fear, as both species began to run for cover. The only one truly unaware of the situation was the Kechawacha, who had just awakened after hearing the distress from the forest floor. Yet before he could analyze the situation, several large talons come from the sky, grasping the primate's back. The Kechawacha wails in agony as he is suddenly swooped up into the sky, seeing the whole forest below him. He flails his arms and legs about, trying to desperately get free. Yet with a sudden jolt of pain, the predator bites his neck, digging its sharp teeth into his throat. The primate's wails turn into gurgles of blood as he begins to slowly pass out from the lack of air in his lungs. In just a short minute, the Kechawacha finally succumbs to his death as his corpse hangs in the mighty talons of his attacker. The attacker was a mighty Rathalos, whose territory was not far from where his prey was, just higher up into the mountains. His name was Regionald... or some hunters like to call him, "The White Striker". Yes, this Rathalos is guilty for attacking humans and several farms in the last few years and is notorious for his sudden ambushes. No hunter has ever taken him down successfully, let alone get caught. He continues to fly higher into the mountains, where snow begins to form as he approaches his cave. This Kechawacha will make a very chewy yet tasty meal for himself. He drops the corpse by the entrance as he lands with a quiet thump. Before eating, he makes a loud roar, alerting anyone within the area to stay away. Once he has asserted his dominance, he begins to eat in peace, knowing that his domain is still in check.</s> <\|message\|>Veisu TING... TING... TING... TING... Hsssssssssssssss Hot steam filled the forge as a massive blade of the exotic dragonite metal quenched its heated thirst in a pool of water. To them, it was a job, a service. To Veisu, it was an art. He removed the blade from its bath, pivoting his sweat coated torso as he carried his craft to a stone bench. It was here that he would assemble the mechanics inside the weapon. This was no ordinary sword and shield; it featured many unique functions. Firstly, the blade of the sword contained small slits, in which blood would collect from fighting monsters. These slits led to a reservoir inside the handle, and the wielder could discern if this vial was full by a resonant red glow that would emanate from the blade. The hunter would then sheathe the blade into a scabbard installed in the shield, and open the valves inside the blade. This would deposit the blood into a chemical bath hidden in the shield, and the resulting admixture would fill up to five phials inside the shield. Next, the shield contains a latch that secures the sword into the scabbard. One side of the shield was kept sharp for this purpose, for when secured, the hunter could swing the sword and shield as a great-axe. Lastly, the hunter could release bursts of the chemical mixture stored in the phials while swinging this pseduo-axe to deal explosive or energetic damage to the target. "Here." Veisu said, handing the finished product to a man standing on the opposite side of a counter. The man nodded and set a pouch on the counter, and departed with his weapon. Upon inspection, Veisu noted the contents of the pouch to be a large sum of coin. Minegarde was one of the first cities to support the Hunter's Guild. And as such, it was one of the most populated. As a hunter of his rank, the Guild would allow Veisu to travel as he pleased, knowing he would commit to hunts and other services wherever he was. To their surprise, he had shown much more commitment than expected: whenever Veisu wasn't hunting or sleeping, he was gathering and forging. He had been this way since he joined the Guild, and being stationed in Minegarde was no different. Well, it was no different for him. For others, gossip of his presence and his work would infest any town or city he visited.</s>	<\|message\|>Alice Yagami Meat sizzled as Alice turned it delicately over the coals, waiting for the brink of when Rare turned to Well-Done, just how she liked it. If she had it her way, she would have it cooked it as short as possible. She thought it had tasted better that way. However, Well-Done Steak gave you more energy and stamina, which was a necessity for hunters of all kinds, so Alice decided to cook it to a Well-Done state in the least time possible. She had become an expert of lifting the juicy meat off the spit at just the right time. Shamba's focus was interrupted by a voice closer than the background noise. The voice was deep and strong, unlike Alice's more feminine voice. Shamba opened his eyes from his state of meditation. Unable to turn his head due to his mask being used, he spoke to the visitor with his head straight forward. "Kya! Hello, new hunter!" Shamba greeted cheerily. Alice glared at the steak, almost cooking it altogether with her electric gaze. Her anger had subsided to minor annoyance, but she decided not to speak. Alice lifted the steaks off of Shamba's head, who promptly stood and turned to face the newcomer. Surprisingly, there were two new faces nearby: One of a well-built male hunter who looked to be around Alice's age. The other was a Popo of a man, his entire body bulging with muscles built from years of training. He seemed to had just finished a meal."Alice say hi, as well!" He looked at the two steaks Alice held, looking over to the new faces. "If hunters like, we share steak-alaka!" Alice let out a surpressed growl at Shamba's cheery attitude. She had only cooked two steaks, and hadn't eaten anything at all. With a small "hmph," she handed the steaks to Shamba, who waddled to their guests and offered the steak to them. Alice meanwhile reached in to a bag strapped to her waist, pulling out two bottles of thick, reddish-brown liquid, a mixture of Honey and Hot Peppers. It was supposed to be a topping for the steaks steak, which Alice set on the table, giving them a push to both of the Hunters that had joined her. "Shamba," she said in an edgy tone, "I need to cook some more." Shamba skipped happily back to his original sitting position as Alice pulled out two more steaks. "So," she talked over her shoulder as she set the steaks on the mask-spit, "come back from any quests lately?"</s>
<\|description\|>Alice Yagami Age - 23 Sex - Female Rank - High Weapons/Equipment - Hidden Ones (Dual Swords), Usurper's Boltstriker (Long Sword), High Rank Zinogre Armor Hunting Companions - Yamba Personality - A very eccentric hunter with an electric and sometimes violent personality, as if she were risen by the monster who's armor she dons. While not hunting, she is usually eating with her Shakalaka companion, Shamba. She tries to stay away from other hunters, but usually wandering eyes will settle on her less than modest clothing. Around other people, Alice loves sparring and wrestling, or any contact sport. She happens to be one of the best arm wrestlers in her hunting guild. While hunting, she usually pairs up with three others, but rarely listens to commands given by her companions. Alice tends to swing her sword somewhat blindly, sometimes hitting nearby hunters, but nonetheless powerful. She becomes ravenous while hunting, shouting war cries with every swing, her ultimate goal in mind being to kill. She rarely goes on capture quests because of this. She will seldom attend the Arena, however she prefers to hunt in the wild, claiming that the large crowd makes her nervous. Likes - Food, killing monsters, contact sports. Dislikes - Capture quests, gathering materials, losing challenges, large crowds. History - Alice grew up around Port Tanzia, her parents both being merchants. Since Port Tanzia was frequented by hunters, she was introduced to them at a very young age. Immediately she became obsessed with the guild, time and time again applying for the Hunters Guild before she was eventually admitted. Her first hunting tasks involved simple gathering and fishing, which bored her quickly. Often she would slaughter Altaroth's that marched past her while gathering mushrooms. She had thought about quitting multiple times, but as her quests started to get geared more towards hunting rather than gathering, she stuck with it. Her climb through the ranks was a tad slow, due to her not being able to complete most capture missions, which became more and more plentiful as she gained in rank. Nonetheless, High Rank was reached in no time. During one of her quests, she was able to befriend a Shakalaka, who was named Shamba. Alice and Shamba have since been inseperable. Name - Shamba Age - Middle-aged (I don't know about the life span of Shakalaka...) Species - Shakalaka Sex - Male Weapons/Equipment - Grill Mask, Boomerang Staff Master - Alice Yagami Personality - A very religious Shakalaka who vigorously follows the practice of dancing. He has studied the art all his life, constantly practicing movements and reading tomes for new dances. He is very wise and analytical, often giving advice to his master Alice, who will seldom listen. Likes - Practicing dance, reading dance texts, meditating. Dislikes - Doing nothing, keeping conversation. History - Shamba grew up in a massive Shakalaka tribe in the depths of a forest. He was the son of the head priest of the tribe, and because of this grew up studying dance alongside his father. He quickly learned the art and master many of the villages dancing, but craved to know more. One day, a hunter traveled through his tribe named Alice. Shamba decided that this would be the time to leave his tribe, as all Shakalaka did at one point. However, unlike most, he left to find the ultimate dance whether then the ultimate mask. Shamba followed Alice home, begging for her to bring her to new lands, for her to show him new and unknown dances. Alice reluctantly agreed, and the two quickly grew fond of each other.</s> <\|message\|>Tybalt Cynthia Leoneart & Tybalt Cynthia continues eating her meal whilst listen to the conversation behind her. Then one of them asks the other hunters whether they hunted lately or not. The girl is the first to answer as she turns around. "I just came back from one. A boring one though, had to kill a measly Great Jaggi. Got a decentish pay for turning in the scales and hide to a salesman." Cynthia takes a quick bite of her food right after she finished with Tybalt listening in as well. --- ??? Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump... A lone monster treks just on the outskirts of Minegarde, remaining hidden from behind the rocks. He growls quietly as he sniffs the air, looking upon the bustling town. It was rush hour. Carts slow to a halt as traffic begins to clog up the entrance. Many of which contained valuable supplies, such as food, water, metals, you name it. Yet little did they realize that a monster was hiding just behind the rocks. He seemed to be ready for an ambush, as his eyes squint, his maw drools and his claws ready to spring. Was he going to attack the traffic head-on?! Nah. With a snort, the monster turns the other way and heads back into the hills. It was way too risky to ambush traffic in rush hour, let alone this close to a hunter's paradise. This monster knew better, for he is a legendary Zinogre, known as WOLFENSTEIN. He never liked to battle hunters, yet he often watches caravan traffic from a hidden location, watching them go buy with their goods. He never did anything wrong to the humans... yet he is the one who gets hunted. Already he's been hunted 4 times and all of them were either from accidental bump-ins or that a hunter was looking for a Zinogre to hunt anyways. This makes Wolfenstein furious! Yet there was nothing else he could do but either flee or, in a worst-case scenario, fight. The only time he fought with another hunter was only for very briefly, only charging up a lightning attack and striking it at it, allowing him to quickly escape into the rocky heights. Despite his timid personality with humans, he's definitely not a coward... He's just a pacifist. (Will make a profile for Wolfenstein the Zinogre!)</s> <\|message\|>Grand 'Mort' Myers Grand Myers After being given permission, he sat down, not too close to the group of hunters who had 'suddenly' popped up. "Kya! Hello, new hunter! Alice say hi, as well!" said the Shakalaka, swiftly bowing his head and saying "Hello to you too." to then he was handed a piece of meat, rather well cooked, by the Shakalaka. He gracefully accepted and just quietly watched the hunters, who carried themselves with a certain grace, though it didn't seem apparent. "I just got drafted here, so I-" he said before he got cut off, a young girl burst through the doors on the inn, hands on her side hips. Her head poking around looking for someone, she had gathered some looks from hunters but she didn't really notice nor care. Her head springing around till her gaze met with Grand. Jerek was right behind her, showing a sullen look. She ran up to Grand and practically tackled him, "Nii, I thought you left like Dad.." she said to him, teary eyed. "Don't worry, I won't go anywhere." slightly smiling at her. Quickly getting out of her slump, Jerek apologized and said "Sorry master, I couldn't do anything-nya." Grand patting his head, "It's alright." Another hunter chimes in, and the people in the table increases by one. Just silently keeping quiet and observing the table full of capable hunters who might be stronger than him. Aviana walking around the table and with sparkling eyes saw the large hulking Hunter and asked, "Can I have a piggy back ride!?" ---</s> <\|message\|>Veisu Veisu carefully counted the coin in the newly acquired pouch twice, confirming the price of his project each time. Satisfied with this, he stowed the coins away, next to small vials of healing potion, tools to spring traps, and other hunting gear, into a small sack that he would take with him on quests. He then withdrew his armor and Stahlurteil, his most preferred weapon, from a large case that he kept in his forge. He donned his blade and all of his armor but his helm, which he carried under his arm. He carefully closed and locked up the door and windows of his forge and headed into the city main. As he drew closer to the main plaza centered in the core of Minegarde, he heard forming around him the voices of commerce and the slaps of shoes against the pavement. The dusty stone-worked streets kicked up clouds of dirt as many travelers, hunters, and merchants made their ways to their various obligations. Veisu walked unimpeded by the presence of such peoples, although his presence did earn him glances and glares from most of those he strode past. The sun was at it's peak when he reached the plaza. Its heat beat down on those brave enough to loiter out of the shade, and Veisu was no less vulnerable to such warmth than any other. He quickly made his way to a dining area, where the heat of the sun was rivaled by the ovens and stoves that bellowed flames to keep up with the hunger of the many passer-by's who would grace such an establishment with empty stomachs and full wallets. Already seated at and around this restaurant were several hunters, felynes and shakalakas. Some seemed to be conversing, particularly a rather large man and a small shakalaka with a barbecue spit on its head, passing food to each other, and others kept to themselves. Looking around, Veisu noted that to his disliking, the only available seating was near the chatty-folk. He thought about turning away, but the growl within is abdomen insisted on siting and eating. With a soft sigh, Veisu rested his helm and arms on the counter, and sat upon the stool. He was quickly sought by a felyne wearing an oversized chef's hat. The cat purred and scratched its ear as it spoke. "Welcome! What can we make for you today?" "Serve me your finest Queen Shrimp, and a side of Heaven's Bread," he requested calmly. His emotional contrast to his waiter shook the felyne, almost toppling its hat. Veisu rested several coins onto the counter between them as the felyne nodded. It swiped the coins off the counter and into a pocket, and retreated off to prepare his meal. This dish was one he would ingest frequently, to him, the best offense was a good defense, and the exotic mix of flavors would also grant him the morale to weaken his foes when blended into a stew. He glanced over at the other hunters and their companions as he waited for his food to arrive.</s> <\|message\|>Alice Yagami People started to crowd around her previously empty table. This would have bugged her, if Shamba hadn't given her a small plate of food to hold her over until her meal finished. She took a handful and stuffed them in her mouth, chewing them vigorously. She swallowed them almost whole, her annoyance diminishing at the kind offer from the hulking hunter. She waited for the joining hunters to tell their tale of recent hunts before he began. "I just got back from a Gobul capture quest," she moaned, grabbing the Shock Trap she had came prepared with and setting it on the table. "That's up for grabs, by the way. Hell if I ever use them. Anyways, the darn thing bit me, so I had to kill it. Let me tell you, Gobul bites hurt." She turns back to the meat on the spit, inspecting it closely and giving it a few turns before turning back to the crowd. "This is Shamba. Name's Alice," she introduced. She pointed to the varying faces around the table. "What about you guys?" As she finished, she took a slice of the turkey she had been given and nibbled at it as she listened.</s> <\|message\|>Osmund Steele Osmund Steele Osmund nodded his large head at the newly relieved hunter, Alice, and the others speaking around him. He enjoyed the sharing of his food, it made for easier interactions and bonds to be formed. A person should not be as annoyed as she looked when they were off-duty, so anything to change that was an effort worth making. He finished his food and looked to the chef with a thumbs up and a nod of appreciation before turning back to those talking. "I am Osmund." A smaller voice made him turn his head to the side and look down. He looked very far down. What he saw was a smaller girl, quite a cute young woman. She had asked for a piggyback, and given her size it would be no difficult task to pick her up, even with his armor on. He smiled down at her before standing, and as he did he couldn't help but laugh. This little girl barely came up to his knees! Such a tiny person. With a pleased chuckle, he knelt down to expose his massive back and looked back at the small girl. "Hop on, child."</s> <\|message\|>Tybalt Cynthia Leoneart & Tybalt Both Cynthia and Tybalt wave to Alice's Shakalaka with a smile. This group seemed very friendly! Now if she can go hunting for larger, more dangerous monsters, with these people, she is sure that it will cure her boredom, as well as for the rest. As she chuckles after seeing the little child come in, a cold chill ran along her spine. She moves her eyes to the back of her, only to see that a dark looking Wyverian was glancing at the group. Looking at he alone was pretty startling, with his purplish-black Gore Magala armor and white-paled face. He did look scary. Cynthia ran her eyes back to her food and looks at Tybalt uneasily. "Do you know who that guy is behind us?" she asks her palico curiously. The palico takes a quick gander at the warrior and shakes his head. "Nya, I do not recognize him>" he answers, "Though he does look frightening to say the least." "Impressive for he to acquire Gore Magala armor, weather though money or forging." "Indeed, but lets pay attention to what we have at hand. Pay him no mind, meow." Cynthia takes one last quick glance at the Wyverian and then continues the conservation with the other hunters.</s> <\|message\|>Veisu "My name is Veisu..." He interjected into the group's conversation. "I'm a G-Ranked hunter, and a practiced smith. You lot look new here." His tone seemed a bit cold or possibly apathetic, but did not harbor any malice. As he said this, the felyine chef returned, carrying a platter. Upon this platter was a rather generous bowl of stew, featuring large clumps of shrimp wrapped in hollowed bread crusts. Veisu turned back to his meal, and began to dine in, but keeping his ear open to response.</s>	<\|message\|>Alice Yagami "Ah, Smithy-Man! Veisu!" Alice stood as Veisu announced himself. She hadn't become aquainted with any of the weapon or armor smith's in Minegarde, but in Port Tanzia, the local Wyvernian Artist and her got along fairly well. To Alice, her weapons had a foreign zing to them, and she wanted to perhaps show it off. Also, she was prpbably due for an upgrade. Monster's were suddenly becoming more resistant to the blade. Why not see what she needed now? "I know your eating, but how does this look?" She unseated her Usurper's Boltstriker + and handed it to Shamba, who bounced over to Veisu and presented the weapon to him. "What would you need to upgrade that later?"</s>
<\|description\|>Elize Abbott Age: 22 Sex: Female Rank: High Weapons/Armor: Tamanoya (longbow), she enjoys wearing the Bnahabra armor often. Palicoes: One! Personality: Almost always, Elize has a straight face and is serious about her hunts. She doesn't like being 'bossy,' but she prefers to give orders. If they aren't followed, Elize will mind slightly, but not as much as she would if she wasn't completely focused on the quest/hunt. She gets concerned about other people being hurt, and sometimes she can risk her life just to insure someone doesn't get killed during a quest. Elize can be seen as someone who doesn't seem to like friends, or have any use for them, but it is quite the opposite. She greatly enjoys having company before quests and during quests, even if its one of those ones where you have to get in, survive, get a ticket and then get out, it's fun to chat during those. Despite looking like an unbreakable wall, she can get scared. Very easily, in fact. The only reason she has Bnahabra armor is because she HATES bugs and wants all of them to die, that's why she went after every single one of them. Wearing that armor helps her know she slaughtered these innocent forms of life, but bugs are straight from hell, so we never care about those. She can also be afraid when a monster gets too close. She's afraid of bugs. She's also afraid of the Deviljho, for reasons of a hunt she went on a while ago. Likes: Killing bugs, people with greatswords, a decent hunt, giving orders, meat, fish, felynes. Dislikes: Bugs, Deviljho, the 'Blazing Black Dragon' History: Elize grew up the daughter of a female hunter, whose name was Mary Abbott. She, unfortunately, never knew her father, as he died shortly after he was born during a hunt against something called the 'Blazing Black Dragon.' Elize hasn't found out the name of it yet. Her mother taught her how to handle a longbow, and how to hunt successfully as the leader of a group of hunters. This is why she prefers to give lots of orders. There was also a moment where Elize was going to die, during a Deviljho quest with three others. She was doing the old hit and run tactic, but during her running she tripped. Over a bug. See why she hates those things? Elize almost died because of that huge bug, right in the way of her running, as the Deviljho went straight for her. If it wasn't for one of the hunters who attacked with a greatsword and stopped the Deviljho from getting too close, giving Elize enough time to escape. She will remember that moment for the rest of her life, and has a soft spot for any people that wield a greatsword. Other: ^ has voice LYRIAN PROFILE Name: Matt Species: Felyne Age: 25 Sex: Male Weapons/Armor: None, as he is a Felyne Cook. Specialization: Cooking. Master: Elize Abbott Personality: A very happy, friendly, and experienced Felyne. He's been with many other Hunters, but their lives seemed to be short lived because they weren't very good Hunters. He's been able to deal with deaths very well due to this. Matt likes cooking, a ton, and enjoys cooking for Elize especially. He is on very good terms with her, and has been with her for about 4 or so years now. Likes: Elize, cooking, wyverns. Dislikes: stubborn Hunters. They go squish. Sound is fun. History: As I stated, Matt has been with a ton of Hunters in his lifetime, and knows what mistakes they have made in the past, so he gives Elize advice whenever he can. Matt has been on good terms with Elize for as long as he's been her cook, and so Elize has had many conversations with him. One day, four years ago, Elize hired a cute little Felyne who went by the name of Matt. With Matt, she has gone through tons of bad hunts, tons of good hunts, and that one Deviljho hunt we never talk about. At first, Matt wasn't so sure about Elize, but her love for Felynes and anything related to them proved him wrong, and he enjoyed being a chef for her. Matt expected her to die shortly, but it turned out she had the knowledge to make the right choices and listen to his advice against monsters, which helped her not go squishy squishy. Other: this is the greatest song no others compare ily NND</s> <\|message\|>Tybalt Cynthia Leoneart & Tybalt After skinning the G. Jaggi dry, Cynthia and Tybalt began to head back to Minnegrade with their small hull. Finally this boring mission is coming to a close, for all they need to do now is get paid and head back to her apartment. She stops by the client, who thanked her for the materials, and gave her 1,000 Zeni. Just a measly... 1,000. Eh. For a mission like so, it was to be expected, as the more dangerous the monster, the bigger the reward. She nods and thanks the villager kindly as she and her partner walk off. Now she was excruciatingly bored as hell. Soon, her belly begins to growl, as it snaps several unpleasant bites inside her stomach. She remembered she didn't eat a very good breakfast, only a small slice of toast. "Tybalt..." she asks her palico, "Aren't you feeling kinda peckish?" "Yeah I sorta am, nya. Why? You hungry too?" "I am. Lets use our pay to grab something to eat. Our favorite stop is just ahead." Tybalt nods as the two enter their favorite diner, following the delightful smells of the delicious food inside. Cynthia had her favorite dish; marinated steak with a side of fresh greens and Panish to drink, while Tybalt had a King Truffle with some blessed wine. The two sit at a table together and begin to eat. Behind them, was a group of hunters, not more than 3, that were by a table. Cynthia began to consider meeting the hunters, but didn't want to be so hasty. With her ears directed on the conversation, she waits. --- Regionald High in the mountains of Mist Peaks, a swift breeze echoes throughout the valley. As small herd of Kelbi graze on the grasses in the forest below, with migrating Aptonoth marching through the woods, and Bullfangoes forging for mushrooms and truffles. In the trees, a lone male Kechawacha can be seen sleeping in the canopy, his ears disguising his closed eyes. Everything seemed to be in order and under control. Who would dare disrupt the peace? Suddenly, the Kelbi herd sense something coming. The scent of a mighty predator! The next to sense it were the Aptonoths, who groaned in distress as they began to run. The Kelbi began galloping away with them, squealing in fear, as both species began to run for cover. The only one truly unaware of the situation was the Kechawacha, who had just awakened after hearing the distress from the forest floor. Yet before he could analyze the situation, several large talons come from the sky, grasping the primate's back. The Kechawacha wails in agony as he is suddenly swooped up into the sky, seeing the whole forest below him. He flails his arms and legs about, trying to desperately get free. Yet with a sudden jolt of pain, the predator bites his neck, digging its sharp teeth into his throat. The primate's wails turn into gurgles of blood as he begins to slowly pass out from the lack of air in his lungs. In just a short minute, the Kechawacha finally succumbs to his death as his corpse hangs in the mighty talons of his attacker. The attacker was a mighty Rathalos, whose territory was not far from where his prey was, just higher up into the mountains. His name was Regionald... or some hunters like to call him, "The White Striker". Yes, this Rathalos is guilty for attacking humans and several farms in the last few years and is notorious for his sudden ambushes. No hunter has ever taken him down successfully, let alone get caught. He continues to fly higher into the mountains, where snow begins to form as he approaches his cave. This Kechawacha will make a very chewy yet tasty meal for himself. He drops the corpse by the entrance as he lands with a quiet thump. Before eating, he makes a loud roar, alerting anyone within the area to stay away. Once he has asserted his dominance, he begins to eat in peace, knowing that his domain is still in check.</s> <\|message\|>Veisu TING... TING... TING... TING... Hsssssssssssssss Hot steam filled the forge as a massive blade of the exotic dragonite metal quenched its heated thirst in a pool of water. To them, it was a job, a service. To Veisu, it was an art. He removed the blade from its bath, pivoting his sweat coated torso as he carried his craft to a stone bench. It was here that he would assemble the mechanics inside the weapon. This was no ordinary sword and shield; it featured many unique functions. Firstly, the blade of the sword contained small slits, in which blood would collect from fighting monsters. These slits led to a reservoir inside the handle, and the wielder could discern if this vial was full by a resonant red glow that would emanate from the blade. The hunter would then sheathe the blade into a scabbard installed in the shield, and open the valves inside the blade. This would deposit the blood into a chemical bath hidden in the shield, and the resulting admixture would fill up to five phials inside the shield. Next, the shield contains a latch that secures the sword into the scabbard. One side of the shield was kept sharp for this purpose, for when secured, the hunter could swing the sword and shield as a great-axe. Lastly, the hunter could release bursts of the chemical mixture stored in the phials while swinging this pseduo-axe to deal explosive or energetic damage to the target. "Here." Veisu said, handing the finished product to a man standing on the opposite side of a counter. The man nodded and set a pouch on the counter, and departed with his weapon. Upon inspection, Veisu noted the contents of the pouch to be a large sum of coin. Minegarde was one of the first cities to support the Hunter's Guild. And as such, it was one of the most populated. As a hunter of his rank, the Guild would allow Veisu to travel as he pleased, knowing he would commit to hunts and other services wherever he was. To their surprise, he had shown much more commitment than expected: whenever Veisu wasn't hunting or sleeping, he was gathering and forging. He had been this way since he joined the Guild, and being stationed in Minegarde was no different. Well, it was no different for him. For others, gossip of his presence and his work would infest any town or city he visited.</s> <\|message\|>Alice Yagami Meat sizzled as Alice turned it delicately over the coals, waiting for the brink of when Rare turned to Well-Done, just how she liked it. If she had it her way, she would have it cooked it as short as possible. She thought it had tasted better that way. However, Well-Done Steak gave you more energy and stamina, which was a necessity for hunters of all kinds, so Alice decided to cook it to a Well-Done state in the least time possible. She had become an expert of lifting the juicy meat off the spit at just the right time. Shamba's focus was interrupted by a voice closer than the background noise. The voice was deep and strong, unlike Alice's more feminine voice. Shamba opened his eyes from his state of meditation. Unable to turn his head due to his mask being used, he spoke to the visitor with his head straight forward. "Kya! Hello, new hunter!" Shamba greeted cheerily. Alice glared at the steak, almost cooking it altogether with her electric gaze. Her anger had subsided to minor annoyance, but she decided not to speak. Alice lifted the steaks off of Shamba's head, who promptly stood and turned to face the newcomer. Surprisingly, there were two new faces nearby: One of a well-built male hunter who looked to be around Alice's age. The other was a Popo of a man, his entire body bulging with muscles built from years of training. He seemed to had just finished a meal."Alice say hi, as well!" He looked at the two steaks Alice held, looking over to the new faces. "If hunters like, we share steak-alaka!" Alice let out a surpressed growl at Shamba's cheery attitude. She had only cooked two steaks, and hadn't eaten anything at all. With a small "hmph," she handed the steaks to Shamba, who waddled to their guests and offered the steak to them. Alice meanwhile reached in to a bag strapped to her waist, pulling out two bottles of thick, reddish-brown liquid, a mixture of Honey and Hot Peppers. It was supposed to be a topping for the steaks steak, which Alice set on the table, giving them a push to both of the Hunters that had joined her. "Shamba," she said in an edgy tone, "I need to cook some more." Shamba skipped happily back to his original sitting position as Alice pulled out two more steaks. "So," she talked over her shoulder as she set the steaks on the mask-spit, "come back from any quests lately?"</s>	<\|message\|>Elize Abbott In no time, Matt had been finished with the steak and came in, bouncing on Elize's Poogie, exclaiming for other hunters and Palicoes to step out of the way. "Coming through, meow! Well-done steak for Meowster Elize!" When Matt got to where Elize had been sitting, he stepped up on the Poogie's head and set the steak on a plate in front of Elize. She patted her Felyne on the head, and said, "Many thanks, Matt. Return home." Now, she noticed there were other hunters, and she greeted them with a solemn "Welcome, fellow hunters." When she heard the hunter with what looked like one of those dancing creatures said, she sighed. "No," she said, before taking a bite of her steak, "Someone took a capture quest, and another took a hunting quest. I wasn't very interested in the others, and I am still exhausted from yesterday's questing. I never thought Minegarde could get that busy, and go back to what it is today that quickly, to be honest. Lots of quests involving those easy monsters." Elize noticed Matt had also given her some Honey, to put on her steak, and a small bowl of soup as well. She drowned her well-done steak in honey, before taking a great bite of it, interested in hearing the other hunters' adventures so far today. When she swallowed the bite, she then downed a whole bunch of her soup.</s>
<\|description\|>Osmund Steele Appearance: A monster of a man, standing at nearly 7' tall with shoulders wide enough to make some doors hard for him to fit through, Osmund looks like he would be more at home behind a forge or on a hunting boat with his brown skin the colour of beaten bronze. Build like a brickhouse, shoulders like boulders and a chest like a barrel, he looks built for wrestling with Tetsucabra and Barroth. His kind eyes are a dull blue, leaning more towards grey and his nose has a hump to it, looking slightly broken and twisted. His hair is shaven into a short, frayed mohawk. He has the drooping, pointed ears and chiselled facial features characteristic of those from his family and families like it, Smithies. He tries to stay clean-shaven, but often can be seen wearing a five-o'clock shadow or rugged stubble. Race: Same as 'The Man'. Age: 25 Sex: Male. Rank: High Rank. Weapons/Armor: Axelion Blade (Charge Blade), Nitro Boost Hammer (Hammer) and the Diablos Armor Set. Palicoes: None. Personality: Osmund is not the smartest. He isn't exactly dumb, but he's no genius. Quiet and stoic, he speaks when speaking is needed and when he feels that his words will matter, but rarely speaks otherwise. He is kind, he is fond of smiling and is not above engaging in a hearty laugh. Most of the time he is just one to have fun, not overly concerned with getting bogged down by his problems or worries. Easy-going is a very good descriptor of his usual personality. When in battle, he is a silent giant swinging his weapon with enough force to put down even the toughest of monsters... eventually. A tranquil storm upon the field, his temper can sometimes get the best of him, leading him to launch into a berserk rage. Normally he takes care to mind his teammates when swinging his weapon about, but when he's mad he relinquishes some of this composure and control. This anger switch seems to become more sensitive depending on how large the monster in question is. History: Osmund comes from a family of craftsmen. He's the youngest of 5 children, but also the biggest. His lifelong ambition was to take to the field and hunt for his own materials with which to forge his hunting equipment. He didn't plan too much further than that. As said before, he isn't so bright. When he got into the hunting life he just sort of, stuck there after taking a shine to it. It put food on the table, money in his pocket and prestige in his name. Eventually he abandoned smithing and such altogether, becoming a full-time hunter. His family is saddened at his leaving of the family business, but pleased that he has found his place in the world and something that he is good at. Hunting has become who he is to such a great extent that he has nearly forgotten his past trade, but he seems to know most of the craftsmen around rather well. Other: Theme-songs: Normally and then Angry.</s> <\|message\|>Tybalt The wailing shriek of a Great Jaggi takes his last breath as it falls to the ground with a thump. His body was covered in many slashes and had already lost a lot of blood. The smaller, regular, Jaggies and Jaggia hiss as they retreat back into the bushes. Standing proudly on him, her left foot on the corpse, Cynthia looks down upon her opponent. She had faced many of these Great Jaggies in the past, so this was no biggie. Even the battle seemed boring for her. Beside her was her trusted felyne palico, Tybalt, the same one that assisted Cynthia's father almost 10 years ago. "God damnit..." she sighs with dissatisfaction as she turns back to the way she came, "These Great Jaggies are all too easy. Where are all the big monsters?" Tybalt's nose twitches as he checks the fallen foe for its scales. "You know quite well that you won't find them here, nya...." answers the Palico as he picks up a Jaggi scale, "The meownsters are father off, deeper into the Western Schrade. You'll rarely find them this close to Minegarde." "I know Tybalt, I know. Besides, the quest wanted us to kill a Great Jaggi anyways. There hadn't been many quests that have to hunt bigger monsters these days. Like I wouldn't mind to hunt a Rathalos or a Tigrex or... I don't know, a Barroth or something." "I'm sure they'll come soon, nya? Just be patient. Now please... help me skin the Jaggi's hide." Cynthia nods as she begins helping Tybalt skin the Great Jaggi before heading back to Minegarde.</s> <\|message\|>Alice Yagami Alice stomped off of the boat and in to the small town of Minegarde, her arms crossed, grumbling to herself. She had sheathed across her back her Long Sword, Usurper's Boltstriker, which was still glowing after her hunt. It was a capture quest for a Gobul, and oddly, she never bothered to use her Shock Trap or any of her Tranq Bombs. She had only one fate in mind for that smelly fish: Death. A few weeks ago, she had been transferred by the Hunter's Guild to Minegarde from her home town of Port Tanzia due to complaints from hunting parties she had joined. She growled with anger as she remembered the letter that had sent her off... Dear Mrs. Alice Yagami, We have recieved an alarming number of regular complaints about your behaviors while partaking in capture quests. These complaints include, but are not limited to you seemingly killing the required monster purposefully, with the goal of capture clear in your mind. Because of this, we have decided to relocate you to the town of Minegarde, where you will hopefully pick up the art of the capture from native hunters. As consolation for your relocation, the guild has also decided to provide you with free Trap Tools and Tranq Bombs should you need them. Regards, The Hunter's Guild. Shamba scurried off the boat, joining his master's side. "Try not to fret-alaka, Alice," he consoled. "As young Shakalaka, Shamba master dance much more slower than Priest-alaka. With practice and much work, Shamba become best young dancer in village!" Alice waved her companions words away and took a seat near the tavern, where she began to pull out two hunks of raw meat. "Alright Shamba, sit. Lunch time." Shamba obediently sat cross-legged in front of Alice, closing his eyes for a bout of meditation. Alice meanwhile set the meat on the makeshift spit that was Shamba's mask, slowly turning the meat above the coals.</s> <\|message\|>Elize Abbott Minegarde. Why. ---- Elize Abbott, daughter of a bow user, daughter of a man who died to this blazing black dragon, a bow user herself, a woman who almost died to the Deviljho, hated bugs. She made it her mission, no, her purpose to kill every bug she saw. Most of the time it was stepping on them, hitting them with an arrow, whatever way she could, she killed those little ugly things. She just stepped on a bug. Hooray. Elize sighed. Today was a slow day. She had wanted to go capture a monster, but some hunter took the quest right before her. She then was going to hunt, but some other hunter took that quest from her too, and the rest were just collecting things. So, today being dumb, Elize decided to rest for a day. There weren't any good quests lately, as well. After she stepped on that bug, she looked in the direction of where Matt usually was and said, "Matt? Are you cooking something?" "Yes! I'm cooking some fresh meat, nya." Meat? Meat. She'll wait.</s>	<\|message\|>Osmund Steele Aahhh, Minegarde. Such a spartan, dusty mess of a town. It was hard for Osmund to believe he had arrived at the correct place as he jumped out from the back of the caravan he was travelling with. The caravan bobbed as his significant weight left it, his sand-coloured Diablos armour clattering as his heavy boots hit the floor. This place was so different to his home of Loc-Lac, but he wasn't fussed with complaining about it. He was always taught to respect authority, and when the Hunter's Guild says reassignment, he was damn sure going to follow through with that reassignment. Well, as always, the first thing to do when he came to a new port was to check with the local stores and crafts. The smiths, the general store, the other traders, everyone. Osmund wanted to become familiar with all of the people he was going to be working alongside before actually setting out to work in this new locale. The smell of burning coals and hot iron brought him back to his home, before being overpowered by the smell of the arid desert air and the scents of food from the canteen and tavern. From all over the immediate area, he seemed to draw stares from the old, young and middle-aged alike. This he was used to, as it was territory that came with his significant size. His stomach growled at him like an angry Rathian, and he patted it with a gigantic hand. Might as well christen this new locale with his first meal. Tromping over to the food scents, he rejoiced silently as he found that they made his favourite dish. Fried King Turkey with a side of stuffed Queen Shrimp, helped him to keep that shield up and stand his ground for as long as he needed to. Food kept him on his feet and kept him hunting, so you could never have enough. He ordered a large plate as he took a seat, looking over his massive shoulder at the women nearby, one sat upon the floor and another standing off to the side. They looked to be hunters, judging by their gear and company. Osmund looked to the two of them and gave a stiff nod of the head, raising a hand to both acknowledge them and greet. A deep voice rumbled from within him, like the sound of an Uragaan snoring. "Greetings." </s>
<\|description\|>Osmund Steele Appearance: A monster of a man, standing at nearly 7' tall with shoulders wide enough to make some doors hard for him to fit through, Osmund looks like he would be more at home behind a forge or on a hunting boat with his brown skin the colour of beaten bronze. Build like a brickhouse, shoulders like boulders and a chest like a barrel, he looks built for wrestling with Tetsucabra and Barroth. His kind eyes are a dull blue, leaning more towards grey and his nose has a hump to it, looking slightly broken and twisted. His hair is shaven into a short, frayed mohawk. He has the drooping, pointed ears and chiselled facial features characteristic of those from his family and families like it, Smithies. He tries to stay clean-shaven, but often can be seen wearing a five-o'clock shadow or rugged stubble. Race: Same as 'The Man'. Age: 25 Sex: Male. Rank: High Rank. Weapons/Armor: Axelion Blade (Charge Blade), Nitro Boost Hammer (Hammer) and the Diablos Armor Set. Palicoes: None. Personality: Osmund is not the smartest. He isn't exactly dumb, but he's no genius. Quiet and stoic, he speaks when speaking is needed and when he feels that his words will matter, but rarely speaks otherwise. He is kind, he is fond of smiling and is not above engaging in a hearty laugh. Most of the time he is just one to have fun, not overly concerned with getting bogged down by his problems or worries. Easy-going is a very good descriptor of his usual personality. When in battle, he is a silent giant swinging his weapon with enough force to put down even the toughest of monsters... eventually. A tranquil storm upon the field, his temper can sometimes get the best of him, leading him to launch into a berserk rage. Normally he takes care to mind his teammates when swinging his weapon about, but when he's mad he relinquishes some of this composure and control. This anger switch seems to become more sensitive depending on how large the monster in question is. History: Osmund comes from a family of craftsmen. He's the youngest of 5 children, but also the biggest. His lifelong ambition was to take to the field and hunt for his own materials with which to forge his hunting equipment. He didn't plan too much further than that. As said before, he isn't so bright. When he got into the hunting life he just sort of, stuck there after taking a shine to it. It put food on the table, money in his pocket and prestige in his name. Eventually he abandoned smithing and such altogether, becoming a full-time hunter. His family is saddened at his leaving of the family business, but pleased that he has found his place in the world and something that he is good at. Hunting has become who he is to such a great extent that he has nearly forgotten his past trade, but he seems to know most of the craftsmen around rather well. Other: Theme-songs: Normally and then Angry.</s> <\|message\|>Osmund Steele Osmund Steele The meal was delicious, tender meat of the turkey and the succulent aromas of the shrimp making him feel as if he were hunting back home in Loc-Lac. He munched happily, but silently. In the hunting world, you had to be ready and keep your strength up at all times. You never knew when you'd have to hop up and run off to attend to an urgent quest. Images of his early career flashed into Osmund's mind, being rushed off to fight on the dragonboats with countless others. Back when his lance was his only friend. That lance was broken now, snapped delivering the blow that chased off a Jhen Mohran. He was in the care of medical Felynes for days afterward. He smiled softly, pushing the visor of his helmet out of his face. How... how was he eating through his helmet before? He used a nearby cloth to wipe at his mouth before smiling. He was sure he was being addressed by one of the other hunters present, but he didn't exactly see which one it was. Then he looked down to see a short Shakalaka offering him some meat. With a soft smile he reached down to grab the meat, nodding slightly to the little Lynian. "Thank you, little friend. Here." He took a handful of his shrimp and put them onto a nearby smaller plate for the young Shamba to take, along with some of his turkey. He definitely had enough to be generous. He was a big man, but this meal was a touch too big for him. It was strange to him, that every Felyne kitchen he went to thought that he would eat like a Deviljho, and so they gave him too much food every time. He sighed as he looked down as his nearly finished food, before looking over at the woman who had spoken before her Shakalaka. He shook his head at the woman's question. His last quest was to capture a particularly irate Duramoboros that was interrupting trade caravans on their trip between destinations. That was all the way back in Loc-Lac, and since arriving here in Minegarde a few minutes ago, he hadn't been on any hunts that he could remember. He gave a slightly disappointed shake of the head to her, rumbling out a succinct, "No," before gesturing to his company attempting to get their attention. "What about all of you? Hunt lately?"</s> <\|message\|>Tybalt Cynthia Leoneart & Tybalt Cynthia continues eating her meal whilst listen to the conversation behind her. Then one of them asks the other hunters whether they hunted lately or not. The girl is the first to answer as she turns around. "I just came back from one. A boring one though, had to kill a measly Great Jaggi. Got a decentish pay for turning in the scales and hide to a salesman." Cynthia takes a quick bite of her food right after she finished with Tybalt listening in as well. --- ??? Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump... A lone monster treks just on the outskirts of Minegarde, remaining hidden from behind the rocks. He growls quietly as he sniffs the air, looking upon the bustling town. It was rush hour. Carts slow to a halt as traffic begins to clog up the entrance. Many of which contained valuable supplies, such as food, water, metals, you name it. Yet little did they realize that a monster was hiding just behind the rocks. He seemed to be ready for an ambush, as his eyes squint, his maw drools and his claws ready to spring. Was he going to attack the traffic head-on?! Nah. With a snort, the monster turns the other way and heads back into the hills. It was way too risky to ambush traffic in rush hour, let alone this close to a hunter's paradise. This monster knew better, for he is a legendary Zinogre, known as WOLFENSTEIN. He never liked to battle hunters, yet he often watches caravan traffic from a hidden location, watching them go buy with their goods. He never did anything wrong to the humans... yet he is the one who gets hunted. Already he's been hunted 4 times and all of them were either from accidental bump-ins or that a hunter was looking for a Zinogre to hunt anyways. This makes Wolfenstein furious! Yet there was nothing else he could do but either flee or, in a worst-case scenario, fight. The only time he fought with another hunter was only for very briefly, only charging up a lightning attack and striking it at it, allowing him to quickly escape into the rocky heights. Despite his timid personality with humans, he's definitely not a coward... He's just a pacifist. (Will make a profile for Wolfenstein the Zinogre!)</s> <\|message\|>Grand 'Mort' Myers Grand Myers After being given permission, he sat down, not too close to the group of hunters who had 'suddenly' popped up. "Kya! Hello, new hunter! Alice say hi, as well!" said the Shakalaka, swiftly bowing his head and saying "Hello to you too." to then he was handed a piece of meat, rather well cooked, by the Shakalaka. He gracefully accepted and just quietly watched the hunters, who carried themselves with a certain grace, though it didn't seem apparent. "I just got drafted here, so I-" he said before he got cut off, a young girl burst through the doors on the inn, hands on her side hips. Her head poking around looking for someone, she had gathered some looks from hunters but she didn't really notice nor care. Her head springing around till her gaze met with Grand. Jerek was right behind her, showing a sullen look. She ran up to Grand and practically tackled him, "Nii, I thought you left like Dad.." she said to him, teary eyed. "Don't worry, I won't go anywhere." slightly smiling at her. Quickly getting out of her slump, Jerek apologized and said "Sorry master, I couldn't do anything-nya." Grand patting his head, "It's alright." Another hunter chimes in, and the people in the table increases by one. Just silently keeping quiet and observing the table full of capable hunters who might be stronger than him. Aviana walking around the table and with sparkling eyes saw the large hulking Hunter and asked, "Can I have a piggy back ride!?" ---</s> <\|message\|>Veisu Veisu carefully counted the coin in the newly acquired pouch twice, confirming the price of his project each time. Satisfied with this, he stowed the coins away, next to small vials of healing potion, tools to spring traps, and other hunting gear, into a small sack that he would take with him on quests. He then withdrew his armor and Stahlurteil, his most preferred weapon, from a large case that he kept in his forge. He donned his blade and all of his armor but his helm, which he carried under his arm. He carefully closed and locked up the door and windows of his forge and headed into the city main. As he drew closer to the main plaza centered in the core of Minegarde, he heard forming around him the voices of commerce and the slaps of shoes against the pavement. The dusty stone-worked streets kicked up clouds of dirt as many travelers, hunters, and merchants made their ways to their various obligations. Veisu walked unimpeded by the presence of such peoples, although his presence did earn him glances and glares from most of those he strode past. The sun was at it's peak when he reached the plaza. Its heat beat down on those brave enough to loiter out of the shade, and Veisu was no less vulnerable to such warmth than any other. He quickly made his way to a dining area, where the heat of the sun was rivaled by the ovens and stoves that bellowed flames to keep up with the hunger of the many passer-by's who would grace such an establishment with empty stomachs and full wallets. Already seated at and around this restaurant were several hunters, felynes and shakalakas. Some seemed to be conversing, particularly a rather large man and a small shakalaka with a barbecue spit on its head, passing food to each other, and others kept to themselves. Looking around, Veisu noted that to his disliking, the only available seating was near the chatty-folk. He thought about turning away, but the growl within is abdomen insisted on siting and eating. With a soft sigh, Veisu rested his helm and arms on the counter, and sat upon the stool. He was quickly sought by a felyne wearing an oversized chef's hat. The cat purred and scratched its ear as it spoke. "Welcome! What can we make for you today?" "Serve me your finest Queen Shrimp, and a side of Heaven's Bread," he requested calmly. His emotional contrast to his waiter shook the felyne, almost toppling its hat. Veisu rested several coins onto the counter between them as the felyne nodded. It swiped the coins off the counter and into a pocket, and retreated off to prepare his meal. This dish was one he would ingest frequently, to him, the best offense was a good defense, and the exotic mix of flavors would also grant him the morale to weaken his foes when blended into a stew. He glanced over at the other hunters and their companions as he waited for his food to arrive.</s> <\|message\|>Alice Yagami People started to crowd around her previously empty table. This would have bugged her, if Shamba hadn't given her a small plate of food to hold her over until her meal finished. She took a handful and stuffed them in her mouth, chewing them vigorously. She swallowed them almost whole, her annoyance diminishing at the kind offer from the hulking hunter. She waited for the joining hunters to tell their tale of recent hunts before he began. "I just got back from a Gobul capture quest," she moaned, grabbing the Shock Trap she had came prepared with and setting it on the table. "That's up for grabs, by the way. Hell if I ever use them. Anyways, the darn thing bit me, so I had to kill it. Let me tell you, Gobul bites hurt." She turns back to the meat on the spit, inspecting it closely and giving it a few turns before turning back to the crowd. "This is Shamba. Name's Alice," she introduced. She pointed to the varying faces around the table. "What about you guys?" As she finished, she took a slice of the turkey she had been given and nibbled at it as she listened.</s>	<\|message\|>Osmund Steele Osmund nodded his large head at the newly relieved hunter, Alice, and the others speaking around him. He enjoyed the sharing of his food, it made for easier interactions and bonds to be formed. A person should not be as annoyed as she looked when they were off-duty, so anything to change that was an effort worth making. He finished his food and looked to the chef with a thumbs up and a nod of appreciation before turning back to those talking. "I am Osmund." A smaller voice made him turn his head to the side and look down. He looked very far down. What he saw was a smaller girl, quite a cute young woman. She had asked for a piggyback, and given her size it would be no difficult task to pick her up, even with his armor on. He smiled down at her before standing, and as he did he couldn't help but laugh. This little girl barely came up to his knees! Such a tiny person. With a pleased chuckle, he knelt down to expose his massive back and looked back at the small girl. "Hop on, child."</s>
<\|description\|>Veisu Race: Wyverian Age: 21 Sex: Male Rank: G-Rank Equipment: Gore Magala Armor Stahlurteil Sieger-Ankh Aasklauen Eisenherz Unheilskraft Palicoes: -- Personality: Lawful Evil. Most hunters would describe Veisu as cold, rude and pompous. In reality, he is simply focused and self-disciplined. When others are eating, drinking and parting, Veisu is studying, crafting and training. His reclusive and strict "work and no play" attitude have earned him little in the way of friends, but the whole guild knows of his hunting and forging prowess. He is frequently sought after by aspiring hunters looking for his hand to grace their armor and weapons, or for his assistance in hunting a powerful monster, but to their dismay, he is equally frequent in the denial of such requests. History: Veisu was born and raised in a wyverian village high up in the mountains, near the village of Pokke. He was only a child when his village was attacked by the infamous Gore Magala, and he was one of the only survivors. He and the remaining wyverians moved to Pokke, and it was there that Veisu devoted himself to the defeat of the Magala. Sure enough, the monster returned. And on this day, Veisu was ready. He set out ahead to meet the beast in the wilderness, and after several days, the villagers of Pokke thought him slain. It was only after all hope was abandoned would the townspeople see a battle-scared silhouette stand by the gates, with the rising sun at his back. With a dead Gore Magala at his doorstep, Veisu did what any other self-respecting wyverian would do: he donned his foe's visage, in honor of a battle well-fought. Veisu then moved to the big cities. He joined and quickly rose the ranks of the Hunter's Guild, being able to take on the most dangerous of monsters and also working as a guild smith. Theme: Gwyn: Lord of Cinder - Dark Souls</s> <\|message\|>Osmund Steele Osmund Steele Aahhh, Minegarde. Such a spartan, dusty mess of a town. It was hard for Osmund to believe he had arrived at the correct place as he jumped out from the back of the caravan he was travelling with. The caravan bobbed as his significant weight left it, his sand-coloured Diablos armour clattering as his heavy boots hit the floor. This place was so different to his home of Loc-Lac, but he wasn't fussed with complaining about it. He was always taught to respect authority, and when the Hunter's Guild says reassignment, he was damn sure going to follow through with that reassignment. Well, as always, the first thing to do when he came to a new port was to check with the local stores and crafts. The smiths, the general store, the other traders, everyone. Osmund wanted to become familiar with all of the people he was going to be working alongside before actually setting out to work in this new locale. The smell of burning coals and hot iron brought him back to his home, before being overpowered by the smell of the arid desert air and the scents of food from the canteen and tavern. From all over the immediate area, he seemed to draw stares from the old, young and middle-aged alike. This he was used to, as it was territory that came with his significant size. His stomach growled at him like an angry Rathian, and he patted it with a gigantic hand. Might as well christen this new locale with his first meal. Tromping over to the food scents, he rejoiced silently as he found that they made his favourite dish. Fried King Turkey with a side of stuffed Queen Shrimp, helped him to keep that shield up and stand his ground for as long as he needed to. Food kept him on his feet and kept him hunting, so you could never have enough. He ordered a large plate as he took a seat, looking over his massive shoulder at the women nearby, one sat upon the floor and another standing off to the side. They looked to be hunters, judging by their gear and company. Osmund looked to the two of them and gave a stiff nod of the head, raising a hand to both acknowledge them and greet. A deep voice rumbled from within him, like the sound of an Uragaan snoring. "Greetings." ---</s> <\|message\|>Grand 'Mort' Myers Grand Myers Elbow on the handrail on a boat that was on its way to Minegarde, Grand was drafted to the hunters guild in that area seeing as there was an influx of monsters in the area and 'apparently' they needed a good hunter there. Grand already saw through their lie, one person he had indirectly angered due to a mishap during a hunt with said person. Said persons father, who had strong connections within the Hunter guild. It doesn't take a genius to figure out why he got drafted here. Sighing he simply didn't care and took the sub-par Hunter out of his mind. "Hey hey, Nii, where are we going?" said his adorable little sister, Aviana, tugging his shirt. "Ah, Aviana you don't need to worry, we're going somewhere nice." he replied, softly smiling to his sister and promptly picking her up. "Hnn, Nii, I am already 10 years old!" she said to him after he picked her up, puckering her lips to show annoyance, though Grand only saw this as nothing but cute. Ruffling her hair then saying "I know you are" while smiling warmly, a smile he doesn't show too often. Quickly landing on the port, he raised an eyebrow to the Hunters in the area. Most of them weren't highly geared, and those who did have were few in between. The market place was lively and bustling with an air of hospitality, Grand thought it wasn't going to be as bad as he thought it wasn't going to be. "The guild wasn't fully lying were they." he whispered to himself, then looking around, he couldn't find his sister. He looked around and saw her taking to an old shop keeper and running back to Grand, "Nii, that nice old man gave me an apple!" she said, face full of smiles while holding up the apple to Grand. Lightly smiling, he walked up to the shopkeeper and promptly bowed a thanks to him, thought the shopkeeper was slightly scared by his glare he laughed it off and pat Grand on the back. Finally reaching the home that was set up by the Guild, it was a nice home, not big enough nor small enough. His felyne, Jerek, who had arrived a few days earlier quickly greeted him as he entered and he pet him after so. Finding that Aviana was fast asleep, it was inevitable with the amount of energy she spent walking around after getting off the boat. Instructing Jerek to watch her as he would check out the Hunter's guild in this area, Jerek strongly nodded and he couldn't help but pet him again. After a while of walking, his unconscious glare served to scare or intimidate some people, though Grand never noticed this. Finally finding and promptly entering the Tavern, he attracted a few eyes and Grand also scared off a few when he stared back. Finding a wall to lean back on, he observed the Inn to see any remarkable Hunters, only finding a few, like that Woman pigging out with the meat, the tall, hulking Hunter who was also pigging out and another hunter eating with her felyne. He stared at them, no one else really caught Grand's eyes. Looks like there are a few capable ones here. he thought to himself then simply shrugging, he walked on the notice board but noticed no quests that were interesting nor garnered alot of money. Deciding that he should just lightly eat, he looked around for an open table but none were and most were filled with 3-4 hunters and were full, one of the tables that weren't full was the seat next to the girl he eyed earlier. Though he would prefer not too, he surrendered to his hunger and went up next to her and asked, "Uh, is- is this seat free?" --- @LowKey123@StarinaBox</s> <\|message\|>Tybalt Cynthia Leoneart & Tybalt After skinning the G. Jaggi dry, Cynthia and Tybalt began to head back to Minnegrade with their small hull. Finally this boring mission is coming to a close, for all they need to do now is get paid and head back to her apartment. She stops by the client, who thanked her for the materials, and gave her 1,000 Zeni. Just a measly... 1,000. Eh. For a mission like so, it was to be expected, as the more dangerous the monster, the bigger the reward. She nods and thanks the villager kindly as she and her partner walk off. Now she was excruciatingly bored as hell. Soon, her belly begins to growl, as it snaps several unpleasant bites inside her stomach. She remembered she didn't eat a very good breakfast, only a small slice of toast. "Tybalt..." she asks her palico, "Aren't you feeling kinda peckish?" "Yeah I sorta am, nya. Why? You hungry too?" "I am. Lets use our pay to grab something to eat. Our favorite stop is just ahead." Tybalt nods as the two enter their favorite diner, following the delightful smells of the delicious food inside. Cynthia had her favorite dish; marinated steak with a side of fresh greens and Panish to drink, while Tybalt had a King Truffle with some blessed wine. The two sit at a table together and begin to eat. Behind them, was a group of hunters, not more than 3, that were by a table. Cynthia began to consider meeting the hunters, but didn't want to be so hasty. With her ears directed on the conversation, she waits. --- Regionald High in the mountains of Mist Peaks, a swift breeze echoes throughout the valley. As small herd of Kelbi graze on the grasses in the forest below, with migrating Aptonoth marching through the woods, and Bullfangoes forging for mushrooms and truffles. In the trees, a lone male Kechawacha can be seen sleeping in the canopy, his ears disguising his closed eyes. Everything seemed to be in order and under control. Who would dare disrupt the peace? Suddenly, the Kelbi herd sense something coming. The scent of a mighty predator! The next to sense it were the Aptonoths, who groaned in distress as they began to run. The Kelbi began galloping away with them, squealing in fear, as both species began to run for cover. The only one truly unaware of the situation was the Kechawacha, who had just awakened after hearing the distress from the forest floor. Yet before he could analyze the situation, several large talons come from the sky, grasping the primate's back. The Kechawacha wails in agony as he is suddenly swooped up into the sky, seeing the whole forest below him. He flails his arms and legs about, trying to desperately get free. Yet with a sudden jolt of pain, the predator bites his neck, digging its sharp teeth into his throat. The primate's wails turn into gurgles of blood as he begins to slowly pass out from the lack of air in his lungs. In just a short minute, the Kechawacha finally succumbs to his death as his corpse hangs in the mighty talons of his attacker. The attacker was a mighty Rathalos, whose territory was not far from where his prey was, just higher up into the mountains. His name was Regionald... or some hunters like to call him, "The White Striker". Yes, this Rathalos is guilty for attacking humans and several farms in the last few years and is notorious for his sudden ambushes. No hunter has ever taken him down successfully, let alone get caught. He continues to fly higher into the mountains, where snow begins to form as he approaches his cave. This Kechawacha will make a very chewy yet tasty meal for himself. He drops the corpse by the entrance as he lands with a quiet thump. Before eating, he makes a loud roar, alerting anyone within the area to stay away. Once he has asserted his dominance, he begins to eat in peace, knowing that his domain is still in check.</s>	<\|message\|>Veisu TING... TING... TING... TING... Hsssssssssssssss Hot steam filled the forge as a massive blade of the exotic dragonite metal quenched its heated thirst in a pool of water. To them, it was a job, a service. To Veisu, it was an art. He removed the blade from its bath, pivoting his sweat coated torso as he carried his craft to a stone bench. It was here that he would assemble the mechanics inside the weapon. This was no ordinary sword and shield; it featured many unique functions. Firstly, the blade of the sword contained small slits, in which blood would collect from fighting monsters. These slits led to a reservoir inside the handle, and the wielder could discern if this vial was full by a resonant red glow that would emanate from the blade. The hunter would then sheathe the blade into a scabbard installed in the shield, and open the valves inside the blade. This would deposit the blood into a chemical bath hidden in the shield, and the resulting admixture would fill up to five phials inside the shield. Next, the shield contains a latch that secures the sword into the scabbard. One side of the shield was kept sharp for this purpose, for when secured, the hunter could swing the sword and shield as a great-axe. Lastly, the hunter could release bursts of the chemical mixture stored in the phials while swinging this pseduo-axe to deal explosive or energetic damage to the target. "Here." Veisu said, handing the finished product to a man standing on the opposite side of a counter. The man nodded and set a pouch on the counter, and departed with his weapon. Upon inspection, Veisu noted the contents of the pouch to be a large sum of coin. Minegarde was one of the first cities to support the Hunter's Guild. And as such, it was one of the most populated. As a hunter of his rank, the Guild would allow Veisu to travel as he pleased, knowing he would commit to hunts and other services wherever he was. To their surprise, he had shown much more commitment than expected: whenever Veisu wasn't hunting or sleeping, he was gathering and forging. He had been this way since he joined the Guild, and being stationed in Minegarde was no different. Well, it was no different for him. For others, gossip of his presence and his work would infest any town or city he visited.</s>
<\|description\|>Veisu Race: Wyverian Age: 21 Sex: Male Rank: G-Rank Equipment: Gore Magala Armor Stahlurteil Sieger-Ankh Aasklauen Eisenherz Unheilskraft Palicoes: -- Personality: Lawful Evil. Most hunters would describe Veisu as cold, rude and pompous. In reality, he is simply focused and self-disciplined. When others are eating, drinking and parting, Veisu is studying, crafting and training. His reclusive and strict "work and no play" attitude have earned him little in the way of friends, but the whole guild knows of his hunting and forging prowess. He is frequently sought after by aspiring hunters looking for his hand to grace their armor and weapons, or for his assistance in hunting a powerful monster, but to their dismay, he is equally frequent in the denial of such requests. History: Veisu was born and raised in a wyverian village high up in the mountains, near the village of Pokke. He was only a child when his village was attacked by the infamous Gore Magala, and he was one of the only survivors. He and the remaining wyverians moved to Pokke, and it was there that Veisu devoted himself to the defeat of the Magala. Sure enough, the monster returned. And on this day, Veisu was ready. He set out ahead to meet the beast in the wilderness, and after several days, the villagers of Pokke thought him slain. It was only after all hope was abandoned would the townspeople see a battle-scared silhouette stand by the gates, with the rising sun at his back. With a dead Gore Magala at his doorstep, Veisu did what any other self-respecting wyverian would do: he donned his foe's visage, in honor of a battle well-fought. Veisu then moved to the big cities. He joined and quickly rose the ranks of the Hunter's Guild, being able to take on the most dangerous of monsters and also working as a guild smith. Theme: Gwyn: Lord of Cinder - Dark Souls</s> <\|message\|>Tybalt Cynthia Leoneart & Tybalt Cynthia continues eating her meal whilst listen to the conversation behind her. Then one of them asks the other hunters whether they hunted lately or not. The girl is the first to answer as she turns around. "I just came back from one. A boring one though, had to kill a measly Great Jaggi. Got a decentish pay for turning in the scales and hide to a salesman." Cynthia takes a quick bite of her food right after she finished with Tybalt listening in as well. --- ??? Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump... A lone monster treks just on the outskirts of Minegarde, remaining hidden from behind the rocks. He growls quietly as he sniffs the air, looking upon the bustling town. It was rush hour. Carts slow to a halt as traffic begins to clog up the entrance. Many of which contained valuable supplies, such as food, water, metals, you name it. Yet little did they realize that a monster was hiding just behind the rocks. He seemed to be ready for an ambush, as his eyes squint, his maw drools and his claws ready to spring. Was he going to attack the traffic head-on?! Nah. With a snort, the monster turns the other way and heads back into the hills. It was way too risky to ambush traffic in rush hour, let alone this close to a hunter's paradise. This monster knew better, for he is a legendary Zinogre, known as WOLFENSTEIN. He never liked to battle hunters, yet he often watches caravan traffic from a hidden location, watching them go buy with their goods. He never did anything wrong to the humans... yet he is the one who gets hunted. Already he's been hunted 4 times and all of them were either from accidental bump-ins or that a hunter was looking for a Zinogre to hunt anyways. This makes Wolfenstein furious! Yet there was nothing else he could do but either flee or, in a worst-case scenario, fight. The only time he fought with another hunter was only for very briefly, only charging up a lightning attack and striking it at it, allowing him to quickly escape into the rocky heights. Despite his timid personality with humans, he's definitely not a coward... He's just a pacifist. (Will make a profile for Wolfenstein the Zinogre!)</s> <\|message\|>Grand 'Mort' Myers Grand Myers After being given permission, he sat down, not too close to the group of hunters who had 'suddenly' popped up. "Kya! Hello, new hunter! Alice say hi, as well!" said the Shakalaka, swiftly bowing his head and saying "Hello to you too." to then he was handed a piece of meat, rather well cooked, by the Shakalaka. He gracefully accepted and just quietly watched the hunters, who carried themselves with a certain grace, though it didn't seem apparent. "I just got drafted here, so I-" he said before he got cut off, a young girl burst through the doors on the inn, hands on her side hips. Her head poking around looking for someone, she had gathered some looks from hunters but she didn't really notice nor care. Her head springing around till her gaze met with Grand. Jerek was right behind her, showing a sullen look. She ran up to Grand and practically tackled him, "Nii, I thought you left like Dad.." she said to him, teary eyed. "Don't worry, I won't go anywhere." slightly smiling at her. Quickly getting out of her slump, Jerek apologized and said "Sorry master, I couldn't do anything-nya." Grand patting his head, "It's alright." Another hunter chimes in, and the people in the table increases by one. Just silently keeping quiet and observing the table full of capable hunters who might be stronger than him. Aviana walking around the table and with sparkling eyes saw the large hulking Hunter and asked, "Can I have a piggy back ride!?" ---</s> <\|message\|>Veisu Veisu carefully counted the coin in the newly acquired pouch twice, confirming the price of his project each time. Satisfied with this, he stowed the coins away, next to small vials of healing potion, tools to spring traps, and other hunting gear, into a small sack that he would take with him on quests. He then withdrew his armor and Stahlurteil, his most preferred weapon, from a large case that he kept in his forge. He donned his blade and all of his armor but his helm, which he carried under his arm. He carefully closed and locked up the door and windows of his forge and headed into the city main. As he drew closer to the main plaza centered in the core of Minegarde, he heard forming around him the voices of commerce and the slaps of shoes against the pavement. The dusty stone-worked streets kicked up clouds of dirt as many travelers, hunters, and merchants made their ways to their various obligations. Veisu walked unimpeded by the presence of such peoples, although his presence did earn him glances and glares from most of those he strode past. The sun was at it's peak when he reached the plaza. Its heat beat down on those brave enough to loiter out of the shade, and Veisu was no less vulnerable to such warmth than any other. He quickly made his way to a dining area, where the heat of the sun was rivaled by the ovens and stoves that bellowed flames to keep up with the hunger of the many passer-by's who would grace such an establishment with empty stomachs and full wallets. Already seated at and around this restaurant were several hunters, felynes and shakalakas. Some seemed to be conversing, particularly a rather large man and a small shakalaka with a barbecue spit on its head, passing food to each other, and others kept to themselves. Looking around, Veisu noted that to his disliking, the only available seating was near the chatty-folk. He thought about turning away, but the growl within is abdomen insisted on siting and eating. With a soft sigh, Veisu rested his helm and arms on the counter, and sat upon the stool. He was quickly sought by a felyne wearing an oversized chef's hat. The cat purred and scratched its ear as it spoke. "Welcome! What can we make for you today?" "Serve me your finest Queen Shrimp, and a side of Heaven's Bread," he requested calmly. His emotional contrast to his waiter shook the felyne, almost toppling its hat. Veisu rested several coins onto the counter between them as the felyne nodded. It swiped the coins off the counter and into a pocket, and retreated off to prepare his meal. This dish was one he would ingest frequently, to him, the best offense was a good defense, and the exotic mix of flavors would also grant him the morale to weaken his foes when blended into a stew. He glanced over at the other hunters and their companions as he waited for his food to arrive.</s> <\|message\|>Alice Yagami People started to crowd around her previously empty table. This would have bugged her, if Shamba hadn't given her a small plate of food to hold her over until her meal finished. She took a handful and stuffed them in her mouth, chewing them vigorously. She swallowed them almost whole, her annoyance diminishing at the kind offer from the hulking hunter. She waited for the joining hunters to tell their tale of recent hunts before he began. "I just got back from a Gobul capture quest," she moaned, grabbing the Shock Trap she had came prepared with and setting it on the table. "That's up for grabs, by the way. Hell if I ever use them. Anyways, the darn thing bit me, so I had to kill it. Let me tell you, Gobul bites hurt." She turns back to the meat on the spit, inspecting it closely and giving it a few turns before turning back to the crowd. "This is Shamba. Name's Alice," she introduced. She pointed to the varying faces around the table. "What about you guys?" As she finished, she took a slice of the turkey she had been given and nibbled at it as she listened.</s> <\|message\|>Osmund Steele Osmund Steele Osmund nodded his large head at the newly relieved hunter, Alice, and the others speaking around him. He enjoyed the sharing of his food, it made for easier interactions and bonds to be formed. A person should not be as annoyed as she looked when they were off-duty, so anything to change that was an effort worth making. He finished his food and looked to the chef with a thumbs up and a nod of appreciation before turning back to those talking. "I am Osmund." A smaller voice made him turn his head to the side and look down. He looked very far down. What he saw was a smaller girl, quite a cute young woman. She had asked for a piggyback, and given her size it would be no difficult task to pick her up, even with his armor on. He smiled down at her before standing, and as he did he couldn't help but laugh. This little girl barely came up to his knees! Such a tiny person. With a pleased chuckle, he knelt down to expose his massive back and looked back at the small girl. "Hop on, child."</s> <\|message\|>Tybalt Cynthia Leoneart & Tybalt Both Cynthia and Tybalt wave to Alice's Shakalaka with a smile. This group seemed very friendly! Now if she can go hunting for larger, more dangerous monsters, with these people, she is sure that it will cure her boredom, as well as for the rest. As she chuckles after seeing the little child come in, a cold chill ran along her spine. She moves her eyes to the back of her, only to see that a dark looking Wyverian was glancing at the group. Looking at he alone was pretty startling, with his purplish-black Gore Magala armor and white-paled face. He did look scary. Cynthia ran her eyes back to her food and looks at Tybalt uneasily. "Do you know who that guy is behind us?" she asks her palico curiously. The palico takes a quick gander at the warrior and shakes his head. "Nya, I do not recognize him>" he answers, "Though he does look frightening to say the least." "Impressive for he to acquire Gore Magala armor, weather though money or forging." "Indeed, but lets pay attention to what we have at hand. Pay him no mind, meow." Cynthia takes one last quick glance at the Wyverian and then continues the conservation with the other hunters.</s> <\|message\|>Veisu "My name is Veisu..." He interjected into the group's conversation. "I'm a G-Ranked hunter, and a practiced smith. You lot look new here." His tone seemed a bit cold or possibly apathetic, but did not harbor any malice. As he said this, the felyine chef returned, carrying a platter. Upon this platter was a rather generous bowl of stew, featuring large clumps of shrimp wrapped in hollowed bread crusts. Veisu turned back to his meal, and began to dine in, but keeping his ear open to response.</s> <\|message\|>Alice Yagami "Ah, Smithy-Man! Veisu!" Alice stood as Veisu announced himself. She hadn't become aquainted with any of the weapon or armor smith's in Minegarde, but in Port Tanzia, the local Wyvernian Artist and her got along fairly well. To Alice, her weapons had a foreign zing to them, and she wanted to perhaps show it off. Also, she was prpbably due for an upgrade. Monster's were suddenly becoming more resistant to the blade. Why not see what she needed now? "I know your eating, but how does this look?" She unseated her Usurper's Boltstriker + and handed it to Shamba, who bounced over to Veisu and presented the weapon to him. "What would you need to upgrade that later?"</s>	<\|message\|>Veisu Veisu stopped eating and looked over his shoulder at the little creature holding its master's blade before him. It's expression was a mystery underneath a large barbecue encasing its entire head. With a sigh, he looked up to Alice. "... If you desire my crafts. You will have to visit my forge. It is closed until tomorrow morning, as I will be taking quests for the remainder of the day." Having almost completed his meal, it only took him half a minute to resolve the remainder of the food in his bowl. He set his spoon down on the table, and pulled his helm over his head. "A rare white Rathalos has been spotted in the peaks to the east. The Guild has commissioned me to drive it away." He said, his voice muffled by the enclosure of his armor.</s>
<\|description\|>Rachel Kay Age: 24 Appearance: Similar to this, 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. Powers/Equipment: Rachel acquires a modified Pokegear and a small case containing a set of cards bearing images of assorted Pokemon. By scanning one of the cards in the slot on the bottom of the Pokegear, she is able to change into one of the following forms: * Farfetch'd: Rachel gains the Wild Duck Pokemon's leek-based combat skills, as well as the razor sharp vegetable required to use them. While she isn't capable of flying, she can jump far higher than should be humanly possible and is capable of gliding short distances. In addition, due to the Keen Eye ability, her eyesight is enhanced in this form, enabling her to pick up on smaller details and spot things from long distances. Her outfit in this form is basically this, albeit with a leek instead of a sword. * Litwick: With the Candle Pokemon's power, Rachel becomes immune to fire-based attacks, which just cause the flame on her head to increase in size and power up her own fire attacks, in addition she is able to conjure blasts of fire of varying intensities, as well as beams, balls and rings of dark energy, she also gains the ability to shrink herself down, becoming harder to hit. In this form, Rachel wears a white dress, which hangs past her ankles, her hair hangs in front of her face, covering one eye and a purple flame burns on top of her head. * Sylveon: The Intertwining Pokemon's Pixilate ability infuses Rachel's attacks with, for lack of a better term, fairy magic, boosting the strength of those not already based around this power. In this form, Rachel gains the power to channel the power of the moon to create a destructive beam, conjure star-shaped projectiles that home in on their target, release a flash of light to blind opponents for a short time and focus all of her strength into a single physical strike, which causes insane amounts of damage if it connects, but leaves her completely exhausted afterwards, making it a last resort. This form's appearance changes are...a bit more severe than the others. * Cosplay Pikachu: Using the Mouse Pokemon's card, Rachel gains the power to manipulate electricity in a variety of ways, while becoming immune to it herself. In addition, depending on what "costume" she's wearing, she gains the ability to make her fists harder than steel, summon icicles to rain down, create an electrical current in the surrounding area to power up electrical attacks, drain energy by kissing or perform wrestling moves. In this form, Rachel gains Pikachu's ears and tail, as well as a costume similar to one of its different forms. The costume can be changed through the use of a card depicting all 5 variations of Cosplay Pikachu. * Heracross: While using the Single Horn Pokemon's card, Rachel gains improved fighting skills, as well as the ability to fire bullet or needle-like projectiles by punching at the air. This form gives Rachel a suit of armour similar to this. * Froakie: Rachel gains several ninja-esque abilities while using the Bubble Frog Pokemon's card, allowing her to substitute herself for a decoy or pull smoke bombs from her jacket's pockets. In addition, she can project blasts of water and has her swimming abilities enhanced. While using this form, Rachel's glasses turn into pince-nez and she wears a dark blue skirt and lighter blue jacket with a fluffy collar resembling Froakie's bubbles. 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 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, as well as cooking. Brief Backstory: There isn't really much to say. Rachel has had a boring, ordinary life for the most part. She coasted through school without any real effort, getting decent grades in the process. She spent some time in university, studying to become a teacher, but is currently taking a break to see more of the world. Other:</s> <\|message\|>Richard "Dick" Wrole Man. I'm getting kinda hungry. Of course there's no kitchen in this room, and the free food in the lobby is just popcorn and peanuts until dinner. That's how these tropical places get you. But... hot damn, room service is ACTUALLY reasonably priced for a change. What's that number again... Richard Wrole turned over, looking up from his menu to the hotel's phone, an old rotary number. He'd spent most of the morning-and lunch- at the beach, and hadn't gotten breakfast or lunch. This meant that his stomach was in open revolt, staging a violent protest. Of course, there WERE those crazy hoops you had to jump through to make internal calls. Let's see... room service is 0 for internal calls... 4 for room service... and 376 for the order itself... ...H! E! R! O! When this mystical sequence is put into an H-Dial, a strange function begins- the dialer can become strange and wondrous heroes from across the multiverse! Of course, whether it's Robby Reed, Chris King, Nelson Jent, or now Richard Wrole- they never know WHAT they'll get when they... DIAL H FOR HERO! With a pulse of red light, the letter "H" flew out from the phone dial, coating Richard... who vanished. In his place appeared a red-clad man with lightning decals over his years. Wow! That dial must have given me the mystic power to transform into super-heroes from across the cosmos... and apparently to exposit and think like a comic book character. This should be freaking me out, but... it seems normal while I'm using it. Right now, I've become The Flash, protector of Central City! The costumes are all really similar... but if I know my DCU, I'm Barry Allen, the Flash who made the jump to the competition at Marvel as Flash Forward before returning! With the use of the Speed Force, I can accomplish nearly anything! Now... how do I turn back and order a sandwich... In an instant, Richard found his hand making its way to the dial, dialing 6734. O! R! E! H! When this mystical sequence is put into an H-Dial, the powers are lost and the transformation is broken, allowing the user to return to their normal form! A responsible hero only uses their powers for good, and always gives them back when the battle is ov- Ooooorrrr I could use the powers for absurdly mundane non-evil shit.</s> <\|message\|>Anno Okay, a nice walk. A nice walk would be good. Yeah... Anno couldn't help it. She was, honestly, terribly indecisive when it came to nearly anything, and this was just another case of such a thing. She had been so overwhelmed by all the options she could take on the island that she had ended up going for something totally mundane that she could do anywhere. That is, a simple walk. At least her surroundings were nice... she had put on a nice, light skirt and a tank top, the tropical heat was too much for anything else. Well, that and plenty of sunscreen. Sunburn was terrible! And, well... as mundane as it was, maybe a walk would help her make a decision? The forested surroundings were really pretty beautiful, she had to admit... it was nothing like the more temperate climate back home. Sure, that was pretty too, but this was entirely different. And Anno could hear all kinds of different birds! It was really amazing! It was definitely the first time she'd really been in these kind of surroundings as well, even when she got to go to Australia she didn't really go into any real forests. So maybe, just maybe, she'd figure something... something... ... What was that? Anno came to a halt, staring down at the ground at the strange little object. A... green USB? ... Was that a toy Cyclone Memory? Why was there a random piece of Kamen Rider merchandise sitting out here? Kneeling down, she carefully picked it up in one hand and held it up to get a better look. That's what it looked like, at least... had someone dropped it or something?</s> <\|message\|>Rin Slowly, Rin's eyes began to open, and she winced as the splitting headache she had suddenly caught up to her. Pushing herself up from the ground, she tried to recall just what had happened to knock her flat on her back like that. And then she remembered... She was just going out for a walk, really. It seemed like a nice day (well, it was far too hot for her, but still), and she may as well try and enjoy this vacation whilst she was still on it, so... Yeah, that all added up. And then... Something hit her. Something fell from the sky and smacked her right on the forehead. That was the part that didn't make any sense. It was a clear day, and she was nowhere near any buildings or trees or really anything where something could fall from and hit her like that. But there it was, lying next to her, a metal briefcase with the clasps loose. Maybe she was just curious as to what could have hit her like that, but for some reason she found herself slowly opening the briefcase... To find something rather odd. "...Huh. Not every day you get whacked by flying Kamen Rider merchandise..." And, well, that was what seemed to be inside the briefcase. Specifically, it was the Double Driver, and... "Not a complete set, though. Where'd the Cyclone Memory get to?" Maybe it had fallen out and gotten lost when the briefcase fell from... Wherever it fell from. But pondering just what had happened to the green Gaia Memory would have to wait for now. Closing the case, Rin locked the clasps into place and, with her head still pounding, carried it off as she headed back towards town. "Dunno where this came from... But as much as I want to keep it, I probably should hand it in to the police or something." Thinking aloud, she quickened her pace as the pain in her head began to fade. "They'll probably find who this belongs to, and whoever they are I hope they're ready to apologise for whacking with on the head like that!"</s> <\|message\|>Nicholas Santos Nicholas chased the cars on foot. As he did, he could hear the two cars honking at each other. "Hey! Slow down if you want me to follow you!" Nicholas slowly began to lose breath. As soon as the cars began to slow, Nicholas was on his knees. "Oh God... my lungs!" Nicholas breathed in and out as his lungs felt like they were on fire. -- As Anno looked upon the Gaia Memory, she could hear honking and loud enka music playing. Two tiny, hot wheels-like cars approached her, one was a clown car, the other was a decked out truck with different sorts of Kanji littered throughout its body and sporting sunglasses. Up ahead was a man in his twenties wearing a red leather jacket. He had brown eyes and brownish red hair. He seemed out of breath. "Oh God... my lungs!" He said. -- Nicholas looked forward. He saw a bespectacled woman with brown hair and blue eyes. "Man... they just keep making the most advanced toys, right?" Nicholas chuckled as he looked at the cars, now motionless as they spoke to each other in muted honks. "Eventually it's gonna be like Small Soldiers..." He laughed.</s>	<\|message\|>Rachel Kay Before Rachel turned back towards the hotel, something caught her attention. A large, airborne train with flashing police lights, which she had somehow failed to notice diving towards the forest ahead of her until just now. Her curiosity piqued, Rachel moved ahead with the phone and case in hand. A short time later, she was surrounded by trees with no sign of the train in the immediate area. At that moment, the phone rang. Hesitantly, Rachel answered. After all, it could be whoever lost it in the first place, right? Or an SOS from that weird train? "Remember my super cool Rattata?" "I-" "My Rattata is different from regular Rattata. It's like my Rattata is in the top percentage of all Rattata." And then he hung up, leaving Rachel even more confused about what was going on than before.</s>
<\|description\|>Nicholas Santos Age: 21 Appearance: You may call me "Nicholas The Renegade"! Or Grim Reaper... doesn't matter to me. Powers/Equipment: Nicholas carries with him the Break Gunner, a device that allows him to transform into Mashin Chaser. As Mashin Chaser, Nicholas is able to fight, but due to damage induced by the Shadow Line, its Core Driviar is damaged, disabling the ability to slow down time. To counter this, however, Nicholas also obtained two Shift Cars and three Viral Cores. * Amazing Circus: Allows Nicholas to fire out props and fireworks from his Break Gunner. * Deko Traveler: Allows Nicholas to pull off a disorientating background change... though it only seems to disorientate himself. * Chaser Cobra Viral Core: Gives Nicholas the Tail Whipper, a whip weapon. * Chaser Spider Viral Core: Gives Nicholas the Fang Spidey, a gauntlet weapon with a pincer at the end. * Chaser Bat Viral Core: Gives Nicholas the Wing Sniper, a crossbow weapon that can allow Nicholas to fly if put on his back. Personality: Nicholas can get cocky. Especially when he has power in his hands. He is also easily excitable, though that excitability can make him incredibly obnoxious. In the face of grimness, he tends to crack jokes, though he's also prone to worrying if things are incredibly bad to a point where cracking jokes would only get people to give dirty looks at you. "There's a time and a place for jokes." he puts it. Brief Backstory: Nicholas was a college graduate ready to go out into the working world. He soon found work at a shop that specializes in automobile repairs. Though his boss was... Well... Bossy, he grew fond of the young man. Day by day, he taught him all there is to know about fixing cars. Other:</s> <\|message\|>Nicholas Santos It was a busy day down in the town. Cars kept getting busted and people need them repaired for the summer to come. Nicholas knew that there was only one hour left on the clock before he could take a break. However, after fixing a guy's hotrod, his boss entered the shop. "Hey, Niko, why don't you take the rest of the day off?" Nicholas smiled at the boss' Russian accent. Then again, he always found accents adorably funny. "I have something to show you..." He said. He left the shop as Nicholas followed him. When they got outside, Nicholas saw a black motorcycle with purple flames and a silver skull hood. "How do you like it?" He said to Nicholas. "W-wait, is this... is this for me?" Nicholas asked. "Well, I found it in the junk heap not too long ago... Like, ten minutes ago... in prime condition as well!" He said. "So... you're letting me having it?" Nicholas asked. "I'm too old to be a biker anymore. You, however, have a long way to go. Just... well, don't get into trouble. Go along, take it for a spin!" He said. "Alright, I won't get into trouble." Nicholas hopped onto the bike and rode off. His boss smiled. --- Nicholas drove alongside the street, keeping with the traffic regulations. That's when he saw a train diving into the forest. Nicholas got confused and drove into a path leading to the forest. He parked the motorcycle and headed onto the forest path. As he walked, he became more and more weary of his surroundings. Then he tripped on something. He skinned his knee and got up. "Gah!" He screamed. He looked over and saw what he tripped over. He picked it up. "The hell? A bop-it?" Nicholas commented on the Break Gunner's appearance. That's when a loud enka song played and made Nicholas jump. "HOLY SHIT!" He jumped over on the ground. He turned around and saw a small car moving on its own while making vrooming sounds and enka noises. "What the hell are you?" He said at he car's catlike face. It drove to him and repeatedly rammed him at his shoe. "H-hey! Quit it!" That's when he heard clown noises. He looked up and saw a car with a clown's face jump down at him, making honking noises and clown noises. "AAAAAAAAAAH!" He screamed. The clown car pinned him down as the enka car spewed out chains, tying him up. "W-what do you guys want from me!? Are you aliens!?" Nicholas said. The enka car rammed into his hand that held the 'bop-it', with each hit tickling Nicholas' hand. That's when the clown car drove in and honked at the car. The two cars honked at each other for a while. "H-hey! Are you guys, like, guardians of the forest or whatever? Because if you let me go, I'll definitely give a hoot and not pollute! I promise!" Nicholas said. The two cars turned to him. The enka car unchained him and he got up. "What the hell are you two?" Nicholas asked. The cars drove off. "H-hey! Wait up!" Nicholas followed the cars. At which point, Nicholas threw all caution to the wind and pretty much thought "what would the opening kill girl do in a moment like this?"</s> <\|message\|>Richard "Dick" Wrole Man. I'm getting kinda hungry. Of course there's no kitchen in this room, and the free food in the lobby is just popcorn and peanuts until dinner. That's how these tropical places get you. But... hot damn, room service is ACTUALLY reasonably priced for a change. What's that number again... Richard Wrole turned over, looking up from his menu to the hotel's phone, an old rotary number. He'd spent most of the morning-and lunch- at the beach, and hadn't gotten breakfast or lunch. This meant that his stomach was in open revolt, staging a violent protest. Of course, there WERE those crazy hoops you had to jump through to make internal calls. Let's see... room service is 0 for internal calls... 4 for room service... and 376 for the order itself... ...H! E! R! O! When this mystical sequence is put into an H-Dial, a strange function begins- the dialer can become strange and wondrous heroes from across the multiverse! Of course, whether it's Robby Reed, Chris King, Nelson Jent, or now Richard Wrole- they never know WHAT they'll get when they... DIAL H FOR HERO! With a pulse of red light, the letter "H" flew out from the phone dial, coating Richard... who vanished. In his place appeared a red-clad man with lightning decals over his years. Wow! That dial must have given me the mystic power to transform into super-heroes from across the cosmos... and apparently to exposit and think like a comic book character. This should be freaking me out, but... it seems normal while I'm using it. Right now, I've become The Flash, protector of Central City! The costumes are all really similar... but if I know my DCU, I'm Barry Allen, the Flash who made the jump to the competition at Marvel as Flash Forward before returning! With the use of the Speed Force, I can accomplish nearly anything! Now... how do I turn back and order a sandwich... In an instant, Richard found his hand making its way to the dial, dialing 6734. O! R! E! H! When this mystical sequence is put into an H-Dial, the powers are lost and the transformation is broken, allowing the user to return to their normal form! A responsible hero only uses their powers for good, and always gives them back when the battle is ov- Ooooorrrr I could use the powers for absurdly mundane non-evil shit.</s> <\|message\|>Anno Okay, a nice walk. A nice walk would be good. Yeah... Anno couldn't help it. She was, honestly, terribly indecisive when it came to nearly anything, and this was just another case of such a thing. She had been so overwhelmed by all the options she could take on the island that she had ended up going for something totally mundane that she could do anywhere. That is, a simple walk. At least her surroundings were nice... she had put on a nice, light skirt and a tank top, the tropical heat was too much for anything else. Well, that and plenty of sunscreen. Sunburn was terrible! And, well... as mundane as it was, maybe a walk would help her make a decision? The forested surroundings were really pretty beautiful, she had to admit... it was nothing like the more temperate climate back home. Sure, that was pretty too, but this was entirely different. And Anno could hear all kinds of different birds! It was really amazing! It was definitely the first time she'd really been in these kind of surroundings as well, even when she got to go to Australia she didn't really go into any real forests. So maybe, just maybe, she'd figure something... something... ... What was that? Anno came to a halt, staring down at the ground at the strange little object. A... green USB? ... Was that a toy Cyclone Memory? Why was there a random piece of Kamen Rider merchandise sitting out here? Kneeling down, she carefully picked it up in one hand and held it up to get a better look. That's what it looked like, at least... had someone dropped it or something?</s> <\|message\|>Rin Slowly, Rin's eyes began to open, and she winced as the splitting headache she had suddenly caught up to her. Pushing herself up from the ground, she tried to recall just what had happened to knock her flat on her back like that. And then she remembered... She was just going out for a walk, really. It seemed like a nice day (well, it was far too hot for her, but still), and she may as well try and enjoy this vacation whilst she was still on it, so... Yeah, that all added up. And then... Something hit her. Something fell from the sky and smacked her right on the forehead. That was the part that didn't make any sense. It was a clear day, and she was nowhere near any buildings or trees or really anything where something could fall from and hit her like that. But there it was, lying next to her, a metal briefcase with the clasps loose. Maybe she was just curious as to what could have hit her like that, but for some reason she found herself slowly opening the briefcase... To find something rather odd. "...Huh. Not every day you get whacked by flying Kamen Rider merchandise..." And, well, that was what seemed to be inside the briefcase. Specifically, it was the Double Driver, and... "Not a complete set, though. Where'd the Cyclone Memory get to?" Maybe it had fallen out and gotten lost when the briefcase fell from... Wherever it fell from. But pondering just what had happened to the green Gaia Memory would have to wait for now. Closing the case, Rin locked the clasps into place and, with her head still pounding, carried it off as she headed back towards town. "Dunno where this came from... But as much as I want to keep it, I probably should hand it in to the police or something." Thinking aloud, she quickened her pace as the pain in her head began to fade. "They'll probably find who this belongs to, and whoever they are I hope they're ready to apologise for whacking with on the head like that!"</s>	<\|message\|>Nicholas Santos Nicholas chased the cars on foot. As he did, he could hear the two cars honking at each other. "Hey! Slow down if you want me to follow you!" Nicholas slowly began to lose breath. As soon as the cars began to slow, Nicholas was on his knees. "Oh God... my lungs!" Nicholas breathed in and out as his lungs felt like they were on fire. -- As Anno looked upon the Gaia Memory, she could hear honking and loud enka music playing. Two tiny, hot wheels-like cars approached her, one was a clown car, the other was a decked out truck with different sorts of Kanji littered throughout its body and sporting sunglasses. Up ahead was a man in his twenties wearing a red leather jacket. He had brown eyes and brownish red hair. He seemed out of breath. "Oh God... my lungs!" He said. -- Nicholas looked forward. He saw a bespectacled woman with brown hair and blue eyes. "Man... they just keep making the most advanced toys, right?" Nicholas chuckled as he looked at the cars, now motionless as they spoke to each other in muted honks. "Eventually it's gonna be like Small Soldiers..." He laughed.</s>
<\|description\|>Richard "Dick" Wrole Age: 25 Appearance: A blonde man with greenish, tired eyes and a red sweatshirt, he usually wears jeans. He's now got a rotary dial from a phone booth in his pocket. Powers/Equipment: The H-Dial, a mystical device with the ability to transform its user into a range of strange and incredible heroes. These heroes tend toward the Cape aesthetic, but some of them can be downright strange- IE, Cock-A-Hoop, Boy Chimney, and Daffodil Host. The downside to the dial: Dick doesn't get to choose WHICH hero he turns into, and some of the powers are eccentric. Case in point, Flamewar, who can set things on fire by insulting them, or Pelican Army, who is a hivemind composed of pelicans and a telepathic redcoat soldier. Personality: Had someone said "Take this magic rotary dial and go beat up evil things," he would have jumped at the call. Granted, he'd probably ask what the hell the person was on, talking about magic rotary dials and interdimensional superheroes, but it's a fair question when dealing with wackos. He's a man of moderate intelligence and has a patchwork knowledge of many subjects, mostly involving biology, computers, and physics, although nothing too specialized. He's torn between how awesome being a superhero is and how weird his various forms are. Brief Backstory: An American with a love of all things superhero, he's visiting the island to take a break from college. His family's a little rough right now, but hopefully a vacation's just what he needs. Besides, ruins are awesome. And volcanoes, dormant or otherwise, are EXTREMELY awesome. Other: PELICAN ARMY!</s> <\|message\|>Rachel Kay A pair of trains raced through the sky above a feudal Japanese city, seemingly conjuring tracks out of thin air as they went. The vehicles went unnoticed by the general populous, who either lacked the power to see them or just figured they were better off ignoring them. In the front was a black train with a pair of drill-like protrusions at the front of its tracks, one of the Shadow Line's Darkliners, which travelled from world to world trying to spread their influence. In hot pursuit was a train with some police car-like traits, the Rainbow Line's Police Express, one of the vehicles tasked with fighting back against the Shadows. "To think that a mere conductor managed to ruin my plan...That world would've been plunged into darkness!" The leader of the Shadow Line's expedition snarled. At that moment, a loud bang sounded out. The pursuing Police Express had folded out what looked to be an oversized blue handgun, though its aim was somewhat hampered by the speeds they were moving at. "Tch...You!" the weasel-like creature shouted, pointing to one of the black-clad minions crewing the train. "Get us back to HQ, now!" "Crow!" The train robber-esque combatman responded, beginning to work on a strange computer. Another shot rang out, this time however, it connected. While the blast failed to cause any major damage, it shook the Darkliner and caused the Crow at the console to fall forwards. Almost instantly, the track they were travelling on split and the train seemingly vanished into thin air, with the Police Express following shortly after. --- The Crow had, of course, failed to return the Darkliner to HQ. Instead, it seemed to have stranded them on some backwater planet and busted the console. There'd be time to punish it for the screw-up later though, for now, they had a chance to prepare for their pursuers. The police train came into view, as Kamaitachi had expected. At his command, the Darkliner opened fire with its own weapons, a barrage of cannon fire hitting the emerging Police Express. The other train began a rapid descent, somewhere between an emergency landing and...well, crashing. Whether it was taking cover, or just a convenient crashing point, the train ended up in a forested area of the island the two vehicles had emerged over. As it fell, several items fell through a small gash in the side of rear carriage, landing across the island below. --- Rachel stretched, stepping out of the hotel she'd been staying at and into the tropical sunlight. Sure, she'd slept in. Sure, it was already close to noon. But what was the point in rushing on a holiday? "Let's see...beach...or hiking track..." The brunette mumbled to herself, glancing around. Decision making had never really been her strongest suit, and this was no exception. As she turned towards a path heading into the forest, something caught her eye, a phone and some weird metal case. They seemed somewhat...familiar. Shrugging, she stepped forwards and picked the items up. Maybe whoever lost these had some kind of ID in the case? With a small click, it opened, revealing what seemed to be Pokemon cards. Or rather, cards with pictures of Pokemon on them. Weird...In any case, these probably needed to go to the hotel's lost and found or something.</s> <\|message\|>Nicholas Santos It was a busy day down in the town. Cars kept getting busted and people need them repaired for the summer to come. Nicholas knew that there was only one hour left on the clock before he could take a break. However, after fixing a guy's hotrod, his boss entered the shop. "Hey, Niko, why don't you take the rest of the day off?" Nicholas smiled at the boss' Russian accent. Then again, he always found accents adorably funny. "I have something to show you..." He said. He left the shop as Nicholas followed him. When they got outside, Nicholas saw a black motorcycle with purple flames and a silver skull hood. "How do you like it?" He said to Nicholas. "W-wait, is this... is this for me?" Nicholas asked. "Well, I found it in the junk heap not too long ago... Like, ten minutes ago... in prime condition as well!" He said. "So... you're letting me having it?" Nicholas asked. "I'm too old to be a biker anymore. You, however, have a long way to go. Just... well, don't get into trouble. Go along, take it for a spin!" He said. "Alright, I won't get into trouble." Nicholas hopped onto the bike and rode off. His boss smiled. --- Nicholas drove alongside the street, keeping with the traffic regulations. That's when he saw a train diving into the forest. Nicholas got confused and drove into a path leading to the forest. He parked the motorcycle and headed onto the forest path. As he walked, he became more and more weary of his surroundings. Then he tripped on something. He skinned his knee and got up. "Gah!" He screamed. He looked over and saw what he tripped over. He picked it up. "The hell? A bop-it?" Nicholas commented on the Break Gunner's appearance. That's when a loud enka song played and made Nicholas jump. "HOLY SHIT!" He jumped over on the ground. He turned around and saw a small car moving on its own while making vrooming sounds and enka noises. "What the hell are you?" He said at he car's catlike face. It drove to him and repeatedly rammed him at his shoe. "H-hey! Quit it!" That's when he heard clown noises. He looked up and saw a car with a clown's face jump down at him, making honking noises and clown noises. "AAAAAAAAAAH!" He screamed. The clown car pinned him down as the enka car spewed out chains, tying him up. "W-what do you guys want from me!? Are you aliens!?" Nicholas said. The enka car rammed into his hand that held the 'bop-it', with each hit tickling Nicholas' hand. That's when the clown car drove in and honked at the car. The two cars honked at each other for a while. "H-hey! Are you guys, like, guardians of the forest or whatever? Because if you let me go, I'll definitely give a hoot and not pollute! I promise!" Nicholas said. The two cars turned to him. The enka car unchained him and he got up. "What the hell are you two?" Nicholas asked. The cars drove off. "H-hey! Wait up!" Nicholas followed the cars. At which point, Nicholas threw all caution to the wind and pretty much thought "what would the opening kill girl do in a moment like this?"</s>	<\|message\|>Richard "Dick" Wrole Man. I'm getting kinda hungry. Of course there's no kitchen in this room, and the free food in the lobby is just popcorn and peanuts until dinner. That's how these tropical places get you. But... hot damn, room service is ACTUALLY reasonably priced for a change. What's that number again... Richard Wrole turned over, looking up from his menu to the hotel's phone, an old rotary number. He'd spent most of the morning-and lunch- at the beach, and hadn't gotten breakfast or lunch. This meant that his stomach was in open revolt, staging a violent protest. Of course, there WERE those crazy hoops you had to jump through to make internal calls. Let's see... room service is 0 for internal calls... 4 for room service... and 376 for the order itself... ...H! E! R! O! When this mystical sequence is put into an H-Dial, a strange function begins- the dialer can become strange and wondrous heroes from across the multiverse! Of course, whether it's Robby Reed, Chris King, Nelson Jent, or now Richard Wrole- they never know WHAT they'll get when they... DIAL H FOR HERO! With a pulse of red light, the letter "H" flew out from the phone dial, coating Richard... who vanished. In his place appeared a red-clad man with lightning decals over his years. Wow! That dial must have given me the mystic power to transform into super-heroes from across the cosmos... and apparently to exposit and think like a comic book character. This should be freaking me out, but... it seems normal while I'm using it. Right now, I've become The Flash, protector of Central City! The costumes are all really similar... but if I know my DCU, I'm Barry Allen, the Flash who made the jump to the competition at Marvel as Flash Forward before returning! With the use of the Speed Force, I can accomplish nearly anything! Now... how do I turn back and order a sandwich... In an instant, Richard found his hand making its way to the dial, dialing 6734. O! R! E! H! When this mystical sequence is put into an H-Dial, the powers are lost and the transformation is broken, allowing the user to return to their normal form! A responsible hero only uses their powers for good, and always gives them back when the battle is ov- Ooooorrrr I could use the powers for absurdly mundane non-evil shit.</s>
<\|description\|>Anno Age: 21 Appearance: Usually in skirts though and that tiny jacket is really nice. But, um, kind of pale skin, blue eyes, brown hair, tends to wear reds and blues. Powers/Equipment: Anno has become capable of accessing the Gaia Library, and of using the Cyclone Memory to become the right half of Kamen Rider Double. Naturally this means she has the other Double Driver and the Cyclone Memory. 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. She is rather easy to embarrass and make feel rather awkward, however. Brief Backstory: Anno's life is mostly uninteresting, she's mostly just a normal girl. Other: The other half Rin was talking about so yeah. ^^;</s> <\|message\|>Rachel Kay A pair of trains raced through the sky above a feudal Japanese city, seemingly conjuring tracks out of thin air as they went. The vehicles went unnoticed by the general populous, who either lacked the power to see them or just figured they were better off ignoring them. In the front was a black train with a pair of drill-like protrusions at the front of its tracks, one of the Shadow Line's Darkliners, which travelled from world to world trying to spread their influence. In hot pursuit was a train with some police car-like traits, the Rainbow Line's Police Express, one of the vehicles tasked with fighting back against the Shadows. "To think that a mere conductor managed to ruin my plan...That world would've been plunged into darkness!" The leader of the Shadow Line's expedition snarled. At that moment, a loud bang sounded out. The pursuing Police Express had folded out what looked to be an oversized blue handgun, though its aim was somewhat hampered by the speeds they were moving at. "Tch...You!" the weasel-like creature shouted, pointing to one of the black-clad minions crewing the train. "Get us back to HQ, now!" "Crow!" The train robber-esque combatman responded, beginning to work on a strange computer. Another shot rang out, this time however, it connected. While the blast failed to cause any major damage, it shook the Darkliner and caused the Crow at the console to fall forwards. Almost instantly, the track they were travelling on split and the train seemingly vanished into thin air, with the Police Express following shortly after. --- The Crow had, of course, failed to return the Darkliner to HQ. Instead, it seemed to have stranded them on some backwater planet and busted the console. There'd be time to punish it for the screw-up later though, for now, they had a chance to prepare for their pursuers. The police train came into view, as Kamaitachi had expected. At his command, the Darkliner opened fire with its own weapons, a barrage of cannon fire hitting the emerging Police Express. The other train began a rapid descent, somewhere between an emergency landing and...well, crashing. Whether it was taking cover, or just a convenient crashing point, the train ended up in a forested area of the island the two vehicles had emerged over. As it fell, several items fell through a small gash in the side of rear carriage, landing across the island below. --- Rachel stretched, stepping out of the hotel she'd been staying at and into the tropical sunlight. Sure, she'd slept in. Sure, it was already close to noon. But what was the point in rushing on a holiday? "Let's see...beach...or hiking track..." The brunette mumbled to herself, glancing around. Decision making had never really been her strongest suit, and this was no exception. As she turned towards a path heading into the forest, something caught her eye, a phone and some weird metal case. They seemed somewhat...familiar. Shrugging, she stepped forwards and picked the items up. Maybe whoever lost these had some kind of ID in the case? With a small click, it opened, revealing what seemed to be Pokemon cards. Or rather, cards with pictures of Pokemon on them. Weird...In any case, these probably needed to go to the hotel's lost and found or something.</s> <\|message\|>Nicholas Santos It was a busy day down in the town. Cars kept getting busted and people need them repaired for the summer to come. Nicholas knew that there was only one hour left on the clock before he could take a break. However, after fixing a guy's hotrod, his boss entered the shop. "Hey, Niko, why don't you take the rest of the day off?" Nicholas smiled at the boss' Russian accent. Then again, he always found accents adorably funny. "I have something to show you..." He said. He left the shop as Nicholas followed him. When they got outside, Nicholas saw a black motorcycle with purple flames and a silver skull hood. "How do you like it?" He said to Nicholas. "W-wait, is this... is this for me?" Nicholas asked. "Well, I found it in the junk heap not too long ago... Like, ten minutes ago... in prime condition as well!" He said. "So... you're letting me having it?" Nicholas asked. "I'm too old to be a biker anymore. You, however, have a long way to go. Just... well, don't get into trouble. Go along, take it for a spin!" He said. "Alright, I won't get into trouble." Nicholas hopped onto the bike and rode off. His boss smiled. --- Nicholas drove alongside the street, keeping with the traffic regulations. That's when he saw a train diving into the forest. Nicholas got confused and drove into a path leading to the forest. He parked the motorcycle and headed onto the forest path. As he walked, he became more and more weary of his surroundings. Then he tripped on something. He skinned his knee and got up. "Gah!" He screamed. He looked over and saw what he tripped over. He picked it up. "The hell? A bop-it?" Nicholas commented on the Break Gunner's appearance. That's when a loud enka song played and made Nicholas jump. "HOLY SHIT!" He jumped over on the ground. He turned around and saw a small car moving on its own while making vrooming sounds and enka noises. "What the hell are you?" He said at he car's catlike face. It drove to him and repeatedly rammed him at his shoe. "H-hey! Quit it!" That's when he heard clown noises. He looked up and saw a car with a clown's face jump down at him, making honking noises and clown noises. "AAAAAAAAAAH!" He screamed. The clown car pinned him down as the enka car spewed out chains, tying him up. "W-what do you guys want from me!? Are you aliens!?" Nicholas said. The enka car rammed into his hand that held the 'bop-it', with each hit tickling Nicholas' hand. That's when the clown car drove in and honked at the car. The two cars honked at each other for a while. "H-hey! Are you guys, like, guardians of the forest or whatever? Because if you let me go, I'll definitely give a hoot and not pollute! I promise!" Nicholas said. The two cars turned to him. The enka car unchained him and he got up. "What the hell are you two?" Nicholas asked. The cars drove off. "H-hey! Wait up!" Nicholas followed the cars. At which point, Nicholas threw all caution to the wind and pretty much thought "what would the opening kill girl do in a moment like this?"</s> <\|message\|>Richard "Dick" Wrole Man. I'm getting kinda hungry. Of course there's no kitchen in this room, and the free food in the lobby is just popcorn and peanuts until dinner. That's how these tropical places get you. But... hot damn, room service is ACTUALLY reasonably priced for a change. What's that number again... Richard Wrole turned over, looking up from his menu to the hotel's phone, an old rotary number. He'd spent most of the morning-and lunch- at the beach, and hadn't gotten breakfast or lunch. This meant that his stomach was in open revolt, staging a violent protest. Of course, there WERE those crazy hoops you had to jump through to make internal calls. Let's see... room service is 0 for internal calls... 4 for room service... and 376 for the order itself... ...H! E! R! O! When this mystical sequence is put into an H-Dial, a strange function begins- the dialer can become strange and wondrous heroes from across the multiverse! Of course, whether it's Robby Reed, Chris King, Nelson Jent, or now Richard Wrole- they never know WHAT they'll get when they... DIAL H FOR HERO! With a pulse of red light, the letter "H" flew out from the phone dial, coating Richard... who vanished. In his place appeared a red-clad man with lightning decals over his years. Wow! That dial must have given me the mystic power to transform into super-heroes from across the cosmos... and apparently to exposit and think like a comic book character. This should be freaking me out, but... it seems normal while I'm using it. Right now, I've become The Flash, protector of Central City! The costumes are all really similar... but if I know my DCU, I'm Barry Allen, the Flash who made the jump to the competition at Marvel as Flash Forward before returning! With the use of the Speed Force, I can accomplish nearly anything! Now... how do I turn back and order a sandwich... In an instant, Richard found his hand making its way to the dial, dialing 6734. O! R! E! H! When this mystical sequence is put into an H-Dial, the powers are lost and the transformation is broken, allowing the user to return to their normal form! A responsible hero only uses their powers for good, and always gives them back when the battle is ov- Ooooorrrr I could use the powers for absurdly mundane non-evil shit.</s>	<\|message\|>Anno Okay, a nice walk. A nice walk would be good. Yeah... Anno couldn't help it. She was, honestly, terribly indecisive when it came to nearly anything, and this was just another case of such a thing. She had been so overwhelmed by all the options she could take on the island that she had ended up going for something totally mundane that she could do anywhere. That is, a simple walk. At least her surroundings were nice... she had put on a nice, light skirt and a tank top, the tropical heat was too much for anything else. Well, that and plenty of sunscreen. Sunburn was terrible! And, well... as mundane as it was, maybe a walk would help her make a decision? The forested surroundings were really pretty beautiful, she had to admit... it was nothing like the more temperate climate back home. Sure, that was pretty too, but this was entirely different. And Anno could hear all kinds of different birds! It was really amazing! It was definitely the first time she'd really been in these kind of surroundings as well, even when she got to go to Australia she didn't really go into any real forests. So maybe, just maybe, she'd figure something... something... ... What was that? Anno came to a halt, staring down at the ground at the strange little object. A... green USB? ... Was that a toy Cyclone Memory? Why was there a random piece of Kamen Rider merchandise sitting out here? Kneeling down, she carefully picked it up in one hand and held it up to get a better look. That's what it looked like, at least... had someone dropped it or something?</s>
<\|description\|>Rin * Age: Somewhere in her 20's. * Appearance: Whee. * Powers/Equipment: A mysterious briefcase containing a strange belt-buckle and six USB drives. It's the Double Driver and a set of Gaia Memories that can be used to transform into (a slightly modified) Kamen Rider Double! But without a partner, it's kind of useless. Hmmm. * 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. * Brief Backstory: 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 have something like that suddenly thrust on her after all, right? * Other: The left half of Double; Anno forms the right half.</s> <\|message\|>Rachel Kay A pair of trains raced through the sky above a feudal Japanese city, seemingly conjuring tracks out of thin air as they went. The vehicles went unnoticed by the general populous, who either lacked the power to see them or just figured they were better off ignoring them. In the front was a black train with a pair of drill-like protrusions at the front of its tracks, one of the Shadow Line's Darkliners, which travelled from world to world trying to spread their influence. In hot pursuit was a train with some police car-like traits, the Rainbow Line's Police Express, one of the vehicles tasked with fighting back against the Shadows. "To think that a mere conductor managed to ruin my plan...That world would've been plunged into darkness!" The leader of the Shadow Line's expedition snarled. At that moment, a loud bang sounded out. The pursuing Police Express had folded out what looked to be an oversized blue handgun, though its aim was somewhat hampered by the speeds they were moving at. "Tch...You!" the weasel-like creature shouted, pointing to one of the black-clad minions crewing the train. "Get us back to HQ, now!" "Crow!" The train robber-esque combatman responded, beginning to work on a strange computer. Another shot rang out, this time however, it connected. While the blast failed to cause any major damage, it shook the Darkliner and caused the Crow at the console to fall forwards. Almost instantly, the track they were travelling on split and the train seemingly vanished into thin air, with the Police Express following shortly after. --- The Crow had, of course, failed to return the Darkliner to HQ. Instead, it seemed to have stranded them on some backwater planet and busted the console. There'd be time to punish it for the screw-up later though, for now, they had a chance to prepare for their pursuers. The police train came into view, as Kamaitachi had expected. At his command, the Darkliner opened fire with its own weapons, a barrage of cannon fire hitting the emerging Police Express. The other train began a rapid descent, somewhere between an emergency landing and...well, crashing. Whether it was taking cover, or just a convenient crashing point, the train ended up in a forested area of the island the two vehicles had emerged over. As it fell, several items fell through a small gash in the side of rear carriage, landing across the island below. --- Rachel stretched, stepping out of the hotel she'd been staying at and into the tropical sunlight. Sure, she'd slept in. Sure, it was already close to noon. But what was the point in rushing on a holiday? "Let's see...beach...or hiking track..." The brunette mumbled to herself, glancing around. Decision making had never really been her strongest suit, and this was no exception. As she turned towards a path heading into the forest, something caught her eye, a phone and some weird metal case. They seemed somewhat...familiar. Shrugging, she stepped forwards and picked the items up. Maybe whoever lost these had some kind of ID in the case? With a small click, it opened, revealing what seemed to be Pokemon cards. Or rather, cards with pictures of Pokemon on them. Weird...In any case, these probably needed to go to the hotel's lost and found or something.</s> <\|message\|>Nicholas Santos It was a busy day down in the town. Cars kept getting busted and people need them repaired for the summer to come. Nicholas knew that there was only one hour left on the clock before he could take a break. However, after fixing a guy's hotrod, his boss entered the shop. "Hey, Niko, why don't you take the rest of the day off?" Nicholas smiled at the boss' Russian accent. Then again, he always found accents adorably funny. "I have something to show you..." He said. He left the shop as Nicholas followed him. When they got outside, Nicholas saw a black motorcycle with purple flames and a silver skull hood. "How do you like it?" He said to Nicholas. "W-wait, is this... is this for me?" Nicholas asked. "Well, I found it in the junk heap not too long ago... Like, ten minutes ago... in prime condition as well!" He said. "So... you're letting me having it?" Nicholas asked. "I'm too old to be a biker anymore. You, however, have a long way to go. Just... well, don't get into trouble. Go along, take it for a spin!" He said. "Alright, I won't get into trouble." Nicholas hopped onto the bike and rode off. His boss smiled. --- Nicholas drove alongside the street, keeping with the traffic regulations. That's when he saw a train diving into the forest. Nicholas got confused and drove into a path leading to the forest. He parked the motorcycle and headed onto the forest path. As he walked, he became more and more weary of his surroundings. Then he tripped on something. He skinned his knee and got up. "Gah!" He screamed. He looked over and saw what he tripped over. He picked it up. "The hell? A bop-it?" Nicholas commented on the Break Gunner's appearance. That's when a loud enka song played and made Nicholas jump. "HOLY SHIT!" He jumped over on the ground. He turned around and saw a small car moving on its own while making vrooming sounds and enka noises. "What the hell are you?" He said at he car's catlike face. It drove to him and repeatedly rammed him at his shoe. "H-hey! Quit it!" That's when he heard clown noises. He looked up and saw a car with a clown's face jump down at him, making honking noises and clown noises. "AAAAAAAAAAH!" He screamed. The clown car pinned him down as the enka car spewed out chains, tying him up. "W-what do you guys want from me!? Are you aliens!?" Nicholas said. The enka car rammed into his hand that held the 'bop-it', with each hit tickling Nicholas' hand. That's when the clown car drove in and honked at the car. The two cars honked at each other for a while. "H-hey! Are you guys, like, guardians of the forest or whatever? Because if you let me go, I'll definitely give a hoot and not pollute! I promise!" Nicholas said. The two cars turned to him. The enka car unchained him and he got up. "What the hell are you two?" Nicholas asked. The cars drove off. "H-hey! Wait up!" Nicholas followed the cars. At which point, Nicholas threw all caution to the wind and pretty much thought "what would the opening kill girl do in a moment like this?"</s> <\|message\|>Richard "Dick" Wrole Man. I'm getting kinda hungry. Of course there's no kitchen in this room, and the free food in the lobby is just popcorn and peanuts until dinner. That's how these tropical places get you. But... hot damn, room service is ACTUALLY reasonably priced for a change. What's that number again... Richard Wrole turned over, looking up from his menu to the hotel's phone, an old rotary number. He'd spent most of the morning-and lunch- at the beach, and hadn't gotten breakfast or lunch. This meant that his stomach was in open revolt, staging a violent protest. Of course, there WERE those crazy hoops you had to jump through to make internal calls. Let's see... room service is 0 for internal calls... 4 for room service... and 376 for the order itself... ...H! E! R! O! When this mystical sequence is put into an H-Dial, a strange function begins- the dialer can become strange and wondrous heroes from across the multiverse! Of course, whether it's Robby Reed, Chris King, Nelson Jent, or now Richard Wrole- they never know WHAT they'll get when they... DIAL H FOR HERO! With a pulse of red light, the letter "H" flew out from the phone dial, coating Richard... who vanished. In his place appeared a red-clad man with lightning decals over his years. Wow! That dial must have given me the mystic power to transform into super-heroes from across the cosmos... and apparently to exposit and think like a comic book character. This should be freaking me out, but... it seems normal while I'm using it. Right now, I've become The Flash, protector of Central City! The costumes are all really similar... but if I know my DCU, I'm Barry Allen, the Flash who made the jump to the competition at Marvel as Flash Forward before returning! With the use of the Speed Force, I can accomplish nearly anything! Now... how do I turn back and order a sandwich... In an instant, Richard found his hand making its way to the dial, dialing 6734. O! R! E! H! When this mystical sequence is put into an H-Dial, the powers are lost and the transformation is broken, allowing the user to return to their normal form! A responsible hero only uses their powers for good, and always gives them back when the battle is ov- Ooooorrrr I could use the powers for absurdly mundane non-evil shit.</s> <\|message\|>Anno Okay, a nice walk. A nice walk would be good. Yeah... Anno couldn't help it. She was, honestly, terribly indecisive when it came to nearly anything, and this was just another case of such a thing. She had been so overwhelmed by all the options she could take on the island that she had ended up going for something totally mundane that she could do anywhere. That is, a simple walk. At least her surroundings were nice... she had put on a nice, light skirt and a tank top, the tropical heat was too much for anything else. Well, that and plenty of sunscreen. Sunburn was terrible! And, well... as mundane as it was, maybe a walk would help her make a decision? The forested surroundings were really pretty beautiful, she had to admit... it was nothing like the more temperate climate back home. Sure, that was pretty too, but this was entirely different. And Anno could hear all kinds of different birds! It was really amazing! It was definitely the first time she'd really been in these kind of surroundings as well, even when she got to go to Australia she didn't really go into any real forests. So maybe, just maybe, she'd figure something... something... ... What was that? Anno came to a halt, staring down at the ground at the strange little object. A... green USB? ... Was that a toy Cyclone Memory? Why was there a random piece of Kamen Rider merchandise sitting out here? Kneeling down, she carefully picked it up in one hand and held it up to get a better look. That's what it looked like, at least... had someone dropped it or something?</s>	<\|message\|>Rin Slowly, Rin's eyes began to open, and she winced as the splitting headache she had suddenly caught up to her. Pushing herself up from the ground, she tried to recall just what had happened to knock her flat on her back like that. And then she remembered... She was just going out for a walk, really. It seemed like a nice day (well, it was far too hot for her, but still), and she may as well try and enjoy this vacation whilst she was still on it, so... Yeah, that all added up. And then... Something hit her. Something fell from the sky and smacked her right on the forehead. That was the part that didn't make any sense. It was a clear day, and she was nowhere near any buildings or trees or really anything where something could fall from and hit her like that. But there it was, lying next to her, a metal briefcase with the clasps loose. Maybe she was just curious as to what could have hit her like that, but for some reason she found herself slowly opening the briefcase... To find something rather odd. "...Huh. Not every day you get whacked by flying Kamen Rider merchandise..." And, well, that was what seemed to be inside the briefcase. Specifically, it was the Double Driver, and... "Not a complete set, though. Where'd the Cyclone Memory get to?" Maybe it had fallen out and gotten lost when the briefcase fell from... Wherever it fell from. But pondering just what had happened to the green Gaia Memory would have to wait for now. Closing the case, Rin locked the clasps into place and, with her head still pounding, carried it off as she headed back towards town. "Dunno where this came from... But as much as I want to keep it, I probably should hand it in to the police or something." Thinking aloud, she quickened her pace as the pain in her head began to fade. "They'll probably find who this belongs to, and whoever they are I hope they're ready to apologise for whacking with on the head like that!"</s>
<\|description\|>Isamu Shin ] Gender: Male Personality: TBR Bio: TBR Other: Age: 18 Familia: Athena Equipment: Weapon/shield: Mace + Shield Armor: Metal plates covering large sections of body, hard leather at joints to ensure mobility. STATS: STR: 10 DEF: 10 WPN: 10 AGI: 10 MAG: 10</s> <\|message\|>Isamu Shin The sky parted just enough for the morning sun to pierce the clouds, creating what looked like a ray of light to any that weren't in it, and simply a blinding light to those that were. The buildings seemed almost as if they were reaching up from the ground in an attempt to get some light, while still trying to maintain a stable, almost noble, appearance. The spire that Hephaestus, the deity of blacksmithing, sold wares from, stood tall and proud in the center of the city, built just over top of the dungeon itself, as to cause convenience for the adventurers who wished to avoid going too far out of their way for new equipment. Citizens of Orario walked about, beginning their day-to-day chores while the mass of adventurers that often started their adventures were gathering in the town square. Of course, there would be more that came later in the day, or those that adventured at night, or even those that were taking a day off. The life of an adventurer is what many would call a free life, one in which, so long as you saved enough, you could take a break almost any day you wanted, or fight constantly until you could safely retire. There were not, however, only adventurers here. There were also supporters, hefting around large bags to help adventurers with carrying the loot that they receive, as well as gods and goddesses seeing off the adventurers if they so chose. Other gods and goddesses may have been out working to sustain their familia along with their newer adventurers, or simply waiting at their familia's home, doing as they pleased. The supporters would be searching for adventurers to aid, and adventurers would either be looking for a party, or going in already unless they were simply there for their own needs. Shin yawned, stepping in between the tall buildings, spotting a tavern that's patrons wouldn't arrive until later that night, and its staff was working tirelessly to get it up and running before then. He turned his eyes back to the town square, to which he had almost arrived. He saw a supporter run past him, asking the adventurer they intended to go in with if they were ready. He frowned slightly, having not been in the dungeon quite yet, but already seeing the benefits of one such supporter. I know that my goddess just raked in a few new adventurers, me being one of them... So I wonder whether any of them want to team up... He glanced about, searching for any that may seem fairly new to the adventuring world.</s> <\|message\|>Magna Goldvein "Armor." Magna ruffled with her armor, securing it and bashing a fist into it once or twice. "Check." She looked at the Sword at her side and the shield on her arm. "Weapon and Shield? Check." She looked over her appearance before continuing on to Town Square from the alley way she was. She had just made it to town and been picked up by a goddess. Athena. "If I remember, there were others that just joined, weren't there. Perhaps I should ask them to join?" Now she was just trying to remember their names and what they looked like. "I'll remember when the time comes." She comforted herself as she moved into Town Square. The pure amount of people here was staggering though. People with weapons and armor. Those supporters with bags to carry everything. Magna laughed when she thought of if she could do the supporter role or not. Supporters, from what she understood, were more about picking things up and the like. Magna was a warrior, she joined Athena's familia to fight. On that note, "I need to find someone to. . ." Not too far from where she was, she saw a familiar face. Someone else from her familia. "What was your name? Shin? Right?" She asked. "You going out to the Dungeon too?"</s> <\|message\|>Isamu Shin Shin perked up slightly when he heard a voice speaking his name, and turned his eyes to the girl. "Yeah... And you're Magma? No, wait, sorry, Magna." He nodded as he hoped he got the name right. "Yeah, I'm heading in to the dungeon. I was actually looking for an adventuring friend or two to come along with me." He nodded to her, "Did you want to team up, at least for today?" He glanced to the dungeon, "I hear there's a lot of dangers in there, and the more of us, the less trouble we're in, I'd assume." He glanced to her, trying to judge what kind of fighting style she might use with her current equipment.</s> <\|message\|>Mizushi Seikou (First name Seikou) Seikou Getting his gear together, Seikou exited from his room. It was early in the morning, most of the others in the familia were asleep or left already. He was excited. After about 10 years, Athena had granted him the freedom to be an Adventurer in the familia. Working in her shop for so many years to repay her kindness of sparing him and even giving him a place to live. The others in the familia celebrated, at least most of them. there were those who still disdained him, considering what he had done. Seikou understands that, but continues to work on it. He has shown dedication to Athena through his work and even catching a thief who tried to steal from her. Heading out with his armor and set of chakrams, he was heading for the dungeon for the first time. Seikou thought it would be best not to bother the other adventurers in the familia. Heading out, to the guild for advice, he noticed a couple of people. Some of the newest recruits to the familia. Although, Seikou had been in the familia for a while, he only recently became an adventurer, so in a sense, he was as new as these two. "Hey, Shin and .... Magna, right?" Seikou called out to the two, pointing to each of them respectively to make sure he got the right name with the right person. "You guys heading to the dungeon? Have you gone to the guild yet? They have people to give out advice to starting adventurers and have lots of information, why don't you head there first?" Seikou suggested.</s> <\|message\|>Athena Athena finally woke up with the sun shining in her face and a large barn owl staring down at her from the headrest of her bed. The owl cocked his head to the side as he saw his master start to stir in the bed and hopped down from his perch to nudge her with his beak. "Stop it Artemis. I know your hungry." The Goddess rolled away from the owl and finally got out of bed and had a big stretch before changing into a white peplos which covered her up to her ankles. She looked in the full-length mirror to make sure she was presentable as a goddess before pulling her hair back into one long ponytail and leaving the room. She was aware that she had overslept which meant that she couldn't see her new adventurers off, but she would greet them when they returned from their first day. There was plenty of faith that the young would return without getting themselves killed to early. Artemis closely followed after the Goddess hoping the she would make her way to the kitchen to feed him.</s> <\|message\|>Magna Goldvein Magna turned to the other member of the familia that just showed up. She still wasn't too good with names, so she didn't even bother trying to say this new guy's. "Not yet, perhaps we could head there. It wouldn't hurt I suppose, though I do just want to get into the dungeon to fight." She unsheathed her sword to show it off, of sorts. "My mother made this sword. I want to use the weapon she made for me. It's no Hephaestus familia weapon, but I'm glad to use it." Setting it back into place she continued, "However, if you guys want to go I'll head there with you guys. Wouldn't be too good to go in there by myself, I'm not too sure what to expect."</s>	<\|message\|>Isamu Shin Ryan shook his head, looking to the dungeon. "Adventure calls..." He looked to the others, "If you two want to join me, come on, I think we have a good number... Think we should skip the first floor entirely?" He glanced between the two, then spoke up once more "If... You're both joining me, that is." He glanced towards the direction of the dungeon, tensing up slightly.</s>
<\|description\|>Ser Tomas Rossric Titles: Knight/Ser Social rank: Nobleman/Bastard Job or societal position: He's been granted a few honours by his sister, even though people look down on him. Officially he's a knight, and must protect the kingdom. Age: 20 Gender: Male Appearance: See above. Personality: Witty. He often gets out of situations with his tongue and not his sword. He's not very good at fighting. He likes to have a lot of fun, drinking, gambling. He's very different from his sister, but still loves her. History: Tomas was born a bastard to the late Lord Rossric. He does not know who his mother is, but based on his looks she was probably a northerner unlike Amber's mother, an Athosi. She does not like him, unlike his sister, for she always thought her husband was faithful. She looks down on him and rarely speaks to him. Many of the other inhabitants of the Forklands also look down on him, though some don't care of his bastardice and some even hold him in higher regard for not being a "typical nobleman". After discovering he wasn't very good at fighting, his father decided to get him more interested in books and literature. Tomas often reads, writes and this has developed him into a smart man. He constantly uses his wit and charm to get what he wants, or get out of certain situations. Skills: Use of wit and intellect, knowledge. Can only use a sword and shield, badly. Moderately good at riding. Dreams and fears: He dreams of knowing who his mother is, and also being accepted by society despite his bastardice to be less lonely. Favored equipment: He usually wears a loose tunic. In battle he covers it with chainmail and a tabard with his sigil, but with a white stripe across it showing his illegitimacy. He carries a wooden shield with a similar slashed crest, and a standard-issue hand-and-a-half (or aptly named Bastard) sword. Extra: N/A</s> <\|message\|>Alethea The road north was growing colder with each passing day and night. Alethea despised the cold. It brought back memories of many long nights from years gone by that she had spent huddled and shivering against her sister's frame - the only source of warmth available to her - while she prayed to any of the gods generous enough to hear her plea, that they would both wake up the next morning. She would often pray for more food too. Alethea hadn't wanted to leave the relative safety and comfort of the Great City in the south. Pickings were far more favourable there than those of other regions and the rich had more money than sense. However, her recent high-profile heists had earned her a reputation - and a price on her head. While she was wary of bounty hunters and their ilk, it was other thieves that had ultimately been behind her decision to accept an offer from a nobleman to steal something up north. The thieves and con-artists of the Great City were very territorial and had not taken kindly to a newcomer stepping on their toes and taking what they viewed as their bounty and loot. People said there was honour among thieves, but Alethea knew that if you were to ask any real thief, they would tell you you were sorely mistaken. Traveling the Great Northern Road alone was too risky, Alethea had decided, especially now that winter was drawing in. While the south enjoyed a moderate winter, the north truly did battle with the elements. Furthermore, if she decided to only travel when she thought she could pass unnoticed all the way to the north, it would take her an age to reach her destination. Thus, the most practical and safest avenue open to her was to join the wagons belonging to various traders that were heading that way. Choices were slim given the time of year, but Alethea secured herself a spot on one of them. Well, two spots really as Baego, the young lad that had stuck to her side like an adhesive for the past few months had decided to join her on her sudden journey. The wagons were less than a days ride from the heart of the north, the home of the infamous Weades. Alethea had so far tried to limit her contact with members of the trading company. The men soon got the message that no, she would not be warming their beds along the way and mostly left her alone now. The few women traveling with the wagons did try to draw her into idle chatter, but this always made Alethea feel uncomfortable. Simply talking with people had always been difficult for the young woman. She was never sure on what she should say or how to act. In such circumstances, Baego was her hero. He had sensed her discomfort right from the get go and would step into conversations or even answer for her. Baego had no problem talking - in fact, there was rarely a time when he wasn't talking. Even in his sleep he would murmur. The thief pulled her cloak tighter around her thin frame as a rather strong gale started to pick up. She hadn't managed to purchase thicker clothing for herself or Baego before they had left the Great City and the pair was suffering for it. Though neither had come down with an illness, Alethea was thankful that on the morrow she would be able to buy something more substantial to ward off the chill in the air. In the coming days, Alethea knew she would be receiving more information from her current employer on where exactly she would be stealing from as the nobleman had been rather vague on that particular aspect of the heist, simply telling her he would reveal such things when he knew she was in the north. Alethea did not like accepting work when there were such matters concealed and unknown to her, but the excitement she felt over what she was about to steal had swayed her decision.</s> <\|message\|>Joakim Mirke Weade Joakim sat upon the throne for several more minutes, as some of the earls had not yet left and he didn't want to seem rude by leaving before them. They were talking to eachother while overlooking the strategic map on the large table in front of the throne, pointing at several holdings of their own, to the north where recent reports of barbaric woodspeople have surfaced, an old annoyance to the Weade that Joakims' father had thought dealt with. Apparently they hadn't been dealt with. After pointing at the north, their hands shifted south to the border of the Forklands and the Whitelands. The few things Joakim heard from them related to the trade resuming there after a road had become unaccesible due to a heavy storm. It's good that trade resumed, whatever small amount of trade passed through. After discussing all that they bowed for Joakim, whom nodded in return and made a small gesture with his hand, before they left. Joakim was about to follow suit and retire for the night, but it seemed ser Rolland had urgent news of some sorts. He walked towards Joakim with a Northerners stride, it seemed, and handed him the daily raven messages. An annoyed look becrept Joakims face, more so for the messages than ser Rolland, for he had already gotten plenty of messages. No doubt these were more letters of support in this time of mourning. Joakim shook his head, they were merely trying to rub the Weades' the right way for the most part as most of them paid no mind to Rikard unless they needed something. However a certain letter caught his eye, being sealed with the seal of an Athos man. Quickly he opened it, and read it carefully. It seemed Jovan Athos was on his way to the north, a dangerous escapade for anyone, and more so this plagued man. But he was welcome none the less. Joakim turned back to Rolland, throwing the other letters onto the table without paying them more mind. From his jackets' pocket he revealed a letter, marked with the sign of Harrighfield, meaning it must've been written by lord Perris himself. "A message from the Harrighfields," he spoke softly, to not allow anyone other than Rolland to hear. "he claims the right to sit on our throne, as according to him Gregar is not fit to rule. And more so, he claims that right by force. We are going to war, it seems. I want you to raise the guards, and double the patrols. There will be no tresspassers here tonight." Joakim gave him a serious, stern and strict look before rolling the letter back to a mere roll of paper, and stuffed it back in his jacket. What he didn't mention to Rolland was the chance for a peaceful solution, though Gregar would not like it, most likely. His hands went over to the table again, grabbing the pile of letters, before greeting Rolland with a nod and walking away to his chambers. He would probably have to spend a night writing the 'thank you' letters to everyone, and then the entire tomorrow to rewrite them, as his handwriting was rather sloppy. --- Gregar smiled at Amber, who seemed intent on mocking him as he did her. "Aye, that horse was a tough one." His head turned around the room once again, spotting amidst the crowd that had gathered a man he knew as Tomas, the bastard. The man had somewhat short hair and a small beard, with a pair of blue eyes that would make any woman swoon as soon as the next. Gregar had never really been interested in him, and usually talked to him only when he had to, but he was sure the boy was a fine man. A bastard, but a fine man. A hand went up as he waved at Tomas slightly, almost as if he was trying to be funny doing it. He noticed some others, amongst others a tradesman he knew to be.. less than trustworthy, but very rich. He hadn't understood why Amber had kept the tradesman turned noble around, but then again Gregar didn't understand the concept of wealth either. Some armed man stood around the tradesman, but Gregar paid him no mind, since he blent in with the environment rather easily. Besides Amber were the advisors, all looking the part with their fancy robes and clothes, and a devilous grin on their face, as if they were so happy to spend their days listening to commoners' pleas. Or perhaps they were happy because they could rub their grubby little hands all over the Rossrics' wealth. "However if you'd excuse me, I wish to rest and the road to my home is yet long. Perhaps you have a quarters for me, after which I can stay the rest of tomorrow, leaving in the evening? I'd reach the border before midnight, and after that it would be not much longer."</s>	<\|message\|>Ser Tomas Rossric Amber nodded. She beckoned to one of the guards next to her, the Captain of the Guard, the man she trusted most after Tomas. "Please find lodgings for our good friend Lord Gregar. I should think my father's chambers are in order," she said. She hoped he would not be modest and refuse. The truth was most of the other chambers were now full, the royal one being among the few empty ones. She had chosen to keep her old room, and her brother and Tomas both avoided the royal chambers, leaving it unused. No one seemed shock at offering the old Duke's chambers, as Gregar was a reknowned nobleman and fighter. Amber thought for a second, then added "We'd be glad to entertain you for the night and tomorrow. Will you dine with us in the hall?". She made a mental note to ask the cooks to prepare a feast tonight, in honour of their guest. A few bards could be in order. She'd have to find a maid to see to the seating, as well. The Guard Captain came back to stand next to the queen. The manservant he'd brought came next to Gregar, waiting for his answer before bringing him to his chambers.</s>
<\|description\|>Cregan Hart Cregan Hart "Honor and Loyalty are stronger than steel, and mine will not break" Titles: Ser, "Weade's wolf" Social rank: Knight Job or societal position: Assigned to guard Joakim Weade Age: 25 Gender: Male Appearance: See picture above. Height: 6'2" Weight: 164 lbs Hair Color: Brown Eye Color: Blue Personality: Cregan can often come across as gruff or rude, but he has no cruelty in his heart. He easily loses his temper when he perceives something as a slight against his lords, which is due to his complete loyalty to the Weades. History: Cregan was born into a family that had served the Weades for generations as bannermen, but as the fourthborn son he had almost no chance to inherit. Almost as soon as he was old enough he became squire for Lord Rikard Weade, his age resulting in a fast friendship with Rikards son, Gregar. As he grew from a boy into a young man it became clear he was an exceptionally talented warrior, and Rikard began putting more effort into Cregan's martial education than would often be considered reasonable for a squire. Cregan excelled at his swordwork, though he was never one to lead troops, and always looked up to Gregar, being loyal to a fault. By the time he was granted a knighthood he was already something of a renowned warrior in Borhilon, bringing pride both to his own family and the Weades who he adored. When Rikard and Gregar left for war Cregan begged Rikard to take him with them, but Rikard insisted Cregan stay to protect the Wintershouse. Skills: Exceptional combatant with most weapons, both in battlefield and dueling scenarios. Dreams and fears: Cregan aspires to be the greatest knight in the Whitelands, or perhaps even Borhilon as a whole. His fear is to fail in his duties to protect the Weades. Favored equipment: Cregan wields a large two handed sword in battle, though he also carries a shield and axe for when he needs to fight more defensively. See image for armor. Extra: Sigil is a white wolf with antlers, the sigil of his family.</s> <\|message\|>Joakim Mirke Weade Joakim sat upon the throne for several more minutes, as some of the earls had not yet left and he didn't want to seem rude by leaving before them. They were talking to eachother while overlooking the strategic map on the large table in front of the throne, pointing at several holdings of their own, to the north where recent reports of barbaric woodspeople have surfaced, an old annoyance to the Weade that Joakims' father had thought dealt with. Apparently they hadn't been dealt with. After pointing at the north, their hands shifted south to the border of the Forklands and the Whitelands. The few things Joakim heard from them related to the trade resuming there after a road had become unaccesible due to a heavy storm. It's good that trade resumed, whatever small amount of trade passed through. After discussing all that they bowed for Joakim, whom nodded in return and made a small gesture with his hand, before they left. Joakim was about to follow suit and retire for the night, but it seemed ser Rolland had urgent news of some sorts. He walked towards Joakim with a Northerners stride, it seemed, and handed him the daily raven messages. An annoyed look becrept Joakims face, more so for the messages than ser Rolland, for he had already gotten plenty of messages. No doubt these were more letters of support in this time of mourning. Joakim shook his head, they were merely trying to rub the Weades' the right way for the most part as most of them paid no mind to Rikard unless they needed something. However a certain letter caught his eye, being sealed with the seal of an Athos man. Quickly he opened it, and read it carefully. It seemed Jovan Athos was on his way to the north, a dangerous escapade for anyone, and more so this plagued man. But he was welcome none the less. Joakim turned back to Rolland, throwing the other letters onto the table without paying them more mind. From his jackets' pocket he revealed a letter, marked with the sign of Harrighfield, meaning it must've been written by lord Perris himself. "A message from the Harrighfields," he spoke softly, to not allow anyone other than Rolland to hear. "he claims the right to sit on our throne, as according to him Gregar is not fit to rule. And more so, he claims that right by force. We are going to war, it seems. I want you to raise the guards, and double the patrols. There will be no tresspassers here tonight." Joakim gave him a serious, stern and strict look before rolling the letter back to a mere roll of paper, and stuffed it back in his jacket. What he didn't mention to Rolland was the chance for a peaceful solution, though Gregar would not like it, most likely. His hands went over to the table again, grabbing the pile of letters, before greeting Rolland with a nod and walking away to his chambers. He would probably have to spend a night writing the 'thank you' letters to everyone, and then the entire tomorrow to rewrite them, as his handwriting was rather sloppy. --- Gregar smiled at Amber, who seemed intent on mocking him as he did her. "Aye, that horse was a tough one." His head turned around the room once again, spotting amidst the crowd that had gathered a man he knew as Tomas, the bastard. The man had somewhat short hair and a small beard, with a pair of blue eyes that would make any woman swoon as soon as the next. Gregar had never really been interested in him, and usually talked to him only when he had to, but he was sure the boy was a fine man. A bastard, but a fine man. A hand went up as he waved at Tomas slightly, almost as if he was trying to be funny doing it. He noticed some others, amongst others a tradesman he knew to be.. less than trustworthy, but very rich. He hadn't understood why Amber had kept the tradesman turned noble around, but then again Gregar didn't understand the concept of wealth either. Some armed man stood around the tradesman, but Gregar paid him no mind, since he blent in with the environment rather easily. Besides Amber were the advisors, all looking the part with their fancy robes and clothes, and a devilous grin on their face, as if they were so happy to spend their days listening to commoners' pleas. Or perhaps they were happy because they could rub their grubby little hands all over the Rossrics' wealth. "However if you'd excuse me, I wish to rest and the road to my home is yet long. Perhaps you have a quarters for me, after which I can stay the rest of tomorrow, leaving in the evening? I'd reach the border before midnight, and after that it would be not much longer."</s> <\|message\|>Ser Tomas Rossric Amber nodded. She beckoned to one of the guards next to her, the Captain of the Guard, the man she trusted most after Tomas. "Please find lodgings for our good friend Lord Gregar. I should think my father's chambers are in order," she said. She hoped he would not be modest and refuse. The truth was most of the other chambers were now full, the royal one being among the few empty ones. She had chosen to keep her old room, and her brother and Tomas both avoided the royal chambers, leaving it unused. No one seemed shock at offering the old Duke's chambers, as Gregar was a reknowned nobleman and fighter. Amber thought for a second, then added "We'd be glad to entertain you for the night and tomorrow. Will you dine with us in the hall?". She made a mental note to ask the cooks to prepare a feast tonight, in honour of their guest. A few bards could be in order. She'd have to find a maid to see to the seating, as well. The Guard Captain came back to stand next to the queen. The manservant he'd brought came next to Gregar, waiting for his answer before bringing him to his chambers.</s> <\|message\|>Alethea There was a blizzard coming from the north. Though it was still some hours from fully reaching the small group of wagons Alethea and Baego were traveling with, the winds were picking up and the snow was coming down heavier than in the days before. The biting cold had been causing Alethea's face to ache, but as the temperature continued to drop, as did the sun in the sky, her entire body had started to feel numb. She held Baego close to her side inside the wagon as it rolled along the Great North Road. Instead of waiting for the storm to pass, the traders had decided to plough onwards and try to reach the north's capital before the storm reached them. Apparently there was no point in waiting for the storm to pass as blizzards this far north could last for days on end. Furthermore, they were unsure if any help from the castle would come to them if the wagons became snowed in. They had sent someone on ahead, but there was no guarantee of help. The pace the company of traders was setting was unforgiving and as Baego shivered uncontrollably next to her, Alethea found herself worrying for the young boy's health. Having lived his entire life in the south, he was not used to such harsh weather. Even though he had spent time living without a roof over his head, Alethea knew that the boy had never experienced such extremes in climate and she once again questioned the decision to allow the lad to accompany to the Great White North. She hadn't asked Baego along, but she hadn't stopped him either. "They grow up so fast, don't they?" Alethea looked up at the sound of the woman's voice. The woman was glancing before her and the shivering form against Alethea's side, meaning she was talking about Baego. Alethea felt her throat constrict when she realised the woman was address her and she had asked her a question. The thief's mind was sent into a whirl, scrambling to come up with an answer. A few moments passed and the woman was still looking at her expectantly. "I, um, I do not have enough experience with children nor do I have any offspring of my own to be able to give you an adequate response." Alethea's response came out rushed and as soon as she saw the slightly confused and surprised look on the woman's face, knew she had said the wrong thing once again. The woman merely nodded uncertainly, before turning to talk to someone else. Alethea let out a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding, glad she would not have to engage in conversation with her fellow traveller any more. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the woman and her companion shooting her glances as they spoke to each other. Clearly they were talking about her. Alethea ignored them. She was used to it. "You could have answered that one," she muttered quietly to Baego. The lad raised his head to look at her. "It was a statement and a question. All you had to do was agree with her." Oh. Alethea hadn't known that, but filed it away for later use. "And 'offspring'? Don't call children that." Again, the unknown snippet was filed away.</s>	<\|message\|>Cregan Hart Cregan had been stoically beside Joakim throughout the meeting of earls and small lords and other titles Cregan could barely be bothered to remember. He hadn't been paying very much attention to the mumbling of the lords milling through the great hall as his job was to protect Joakim, not spy on the dealings of underlings. Not that Joakim needed that much protection, the boy had grown into quite the warrior, but appearances mattered and if someone really wanted the boy dead it would be significantly harder to get through Cregan. When Joakim opened with his speech Cregan began to pay more attention, watching the faces of the crowd to determine who would be loyal and who might cause problems, and it took him a fair bit of willpower not to lash out at Earl Redford when the blithering fool spoke up, but he knew that would reflect poorly on Joakim, so he kept himself in check. He politely stepped away when Rolland arrived to give him privacy to speak with Joakim, not that it particularly mattered, he was already aware of the situation with Harrighfield, and was quite ready to help Gregar prove that the Whitelands were not as weak as the Harrighfields seemed to believe. Finally after Joakim had safely retired to his quarters Cregan relaxed, taking a brisk walk outside the halls into the yard, where he saw Rollands men training both against eachother and against straw targets. He casually walked over to a wall, leaning against it and regarding the lads training with a slight smirk. Occasionally he worked with Rolland to train particularly promising recruits, but none of the ones in the yard stood out to him.</s>
<\|description\|>Slooga Besadii Nem'ro Species: Hutt Age: 452 Planet of Origin/Birth: Nal Hutta Force Sensitive Y/N: No; it's safe to say Slooga isn't very sensitive to much, least of all things that involve kindness, generosity or anything not directly related to preserving his own skin. Appearance:A hutt. Ho-ho-ho-ho. Slooga prefers wide brimmed hats and a cane, because he's an alien space pimp. Description:Prior to a bad deal with Imperial Forces, Slooga Besadii Nem'ro was a crime lord working out of Ord Vetasi, runing a salvage and repair business that was actually a sophisticated ship theft and sales ring, supplying pirates, planetary defense forces looking for a bargain, separatists and others ships. Unwittingly, he also supplied ships to the Rebel Alliance, which is why the Empire finally came for him. He boosted off with what was left of his organization and went into the privateering business for the Rebel Alliance. It turned out that quite a number of pirates and smugglers in his operations had Rebel Sympathies and now he is only nominally in command with underlings to do his will for him if his operations are consistent with helping the Rebellion. He detests getting stuck in this position of having to take a side, but is resolved to make the best lemonade he can out of the lemons. It goes without saying that his pirate crew are not entirely in love with Slooga, but they are using his contacts to help move ships and loot on the black market when the Rebel Alliance isn't buying. There is even less love lost between Slooga and the troopers of 1st Platoon, but they are often roped into his money-making schemes as a result of being stationed on the Intruder. Slooga is, in a sense, a necessary evil and handles the supply and logistic end of the ship's needs, though the troops and pirates alike watch to make sure he's not shafting them in the process. It's worth noting that his one servant is a SE4 servant droid known as SE4I5, or High-Five, who does the cooking for Slooga as well as the various tasks that a slave might do...if all of his hadn't run off when the Empire came along. This impoverishment embitters Slooga, and he dreams longingly of acquiring a new palace once he's profiteered off this war.</s> <\|message\|>Corporal Jenk Beskad The LT bought it on an Outer Rim supply station manned by COMPFORCE fanatics; well-armed and thoroughly indoctrinated in the stern joys of the New Order. Joys, that was, if you were a virgin with a lot of angst; those COMPNOR scout camps were places were sex was punished way harder than brawling, which sent, in Palp's eyes, the right message to the lads they were training to carry rifles for him. That stuff happened after marriage. And boy, those marriages were sure to be great too, right? I mean, look at all the preparation they had for it -- all the empathy and fun beaten right out of them in assault training. If that sort of pissed off denial was the Imperial vision, it wasn't surprising that the Rebellion was a thing. Beskad gave the kids one good grade though; they went down well equipped with the latest. The Alliance didn't care about that gear for salvage, cost more to move it where it was needed than it was worth. The Alliance cut orders for the Intruder to raid because they wanted the food to relieve a siege in some neighboring system. So they sent the Intruder. The Intruder deployed an assault shuttle, a real nice rocket ride with mostly engine, designed, shockingly, for piracy. Out of the shuttle came the Liberators, rolling grenades, laying down withering fire and hitting fast and hard; they'd learned tight corridor fighting the hard way, and this was the platoon's kind of job. Tally? One dead lieutenant. Kelborn was a good guy, a survivor of Uslam. But he was zapped. "Fierfek," grunted Besk. "That little Core World snot got lucky with a grenade throw," growled another trooper, "coulda been any of us." "Zip him up; Slooga won't want the dead weight, but we have the guns." Just because the loot of the station wasn't valuable to the Alliance, surplus to the needs, didn't mean that the stuff wasn't valuable; those COMPFORCErs came with deluxe kit. It would fetch a price, but only after the platoon took the spoils they fancied. That was the deal. Shockingly, the Intruder's crew, literally pirates turned Navy rather than Navy, but suspiciously free-wheeling, kept their word. -- Vanguard station was carved into a large asteroid, it reminded Besk of times past in that way. It was also a major resupply and refit point for the Alliance's diverse naval operations. It was also a repple depple; cherries of all species, from factory fresh buck troopers barely out of a short "point it this way" training to Alderaanian university students converted into a semblance of an officer by dint of a diploma mill officer training. And of course, for its successes, 1st platoon reaped its punishment. The replacements were already lined up in the bay, fresh and totally at contrast to the ragged killers that just came off ship for a fast liberty-- say what one wanted for the Alliance, the base general, Salvathi, some alien, knew what made a fighting man tick. He has a slice of Nar Shaddaa set up, free of charge. Sure, the alcohol wasn't the finest-- processed right there-- but it was the right price. Free to anyone returning from a hostile contact with the enemy. Two days went fast, then they were back in the troop hold of the Intruder, nursing hangovers, to meet the new guys.</s> <\|message\|>Corporal Keller "Bits" Vannin "Check this out." Vannin turned over a mutilated helmet in his thick fingers. A scout model helmet, mean for their sharpshooters -- originally, at least. He'd been at it with a plasma cutter for days, and the only recognizable feature left was the shape of the face. "Gonna paint it black." He said the word with an air of reverence, which made about as much sense as anything else about his new toy, but clearly it made him happy. "I know what you're thinking. 'Keller, I can't bear the thought of fighting without your ruggedly-handsome face to inspire me.' Don't worry, see, I cut out the respirator and the cheeks, so you can still...." "Brass. Lock it up." Vannin reluctantly lowered his voice, but his mouth kept moving as he explained the bizarre design choices to no one in particular. He and a handful of other vets were lined up in (what passed for) their pretty uniforms in the hangar, ready to welcome some green rebel regs to the real job. Had to look all prim and proper for the marching types -- the captain even rigged up a speaker to play a very military-sounding tune for the fresh meat. The bullshit couldn't be over fast enough. Only one part in ten on this boat came from the Rebellion proper, and the rest was all black-market at best. They'd get the real picture soon enough. Then they'd adjust their expectations or they'd buy the farm like the LT. Slooga had just the medicine to fix that kind of hurt, and presently it was giving Vannin a headache that could tame a rancor. He put the picture of the LT in a box, and shoved it aside. New faces meant new work, hopefully. He didn't know much about rebel officers, but for this kind of work, the new guy better come with balls and salt, or they'd have to send a new one real quick.</s> <\|message\|>Toland Vas Toland watched as the veterans of The Intruder entered the troop hold. '1st Platoon, Charlie Company, 2nd Uslam "Liberators"'. These guys were the backbone of the Alliance, and now Toland was here ready to get some payback. Ever battle he was about to go in with this regiment was for Berchest. Toland looked over to Betuu, who was already standing at attention. The big droid's right arm was cocked back in an iron fist and his other arm stood parallel with his side. "What do you think bro," Toland asked. "If I had the capacity to care I wouldn't be wasting it here," the battle droid replied. "Bro." "Roger roger good buddy." Despite Betuu's mood, or lack of one, Toland was excited. He wanted to make the Empire suffer. Those bastards took away everything his father had worked hard for, and let him work himself close to death. Toland could never forgive them for the moves they pulled. He would make the galaxy a better place one dead stormtrooper at a time. Toland knew he wasn't the best shot in the universe, but he would bet good money that Betuu would definitely make up for his inexperience. Even with a blaster rifle and pistol, he wasn't sure if he would be even close to up to snuff without his battle droid. "Hey," Toland bothered again, "what do you think they will have us do first? Like some initiation bull?" "I'm not worried," Betuu bluntly replied. "Of course you're not." Soon militaristic music began to play through the intercoms as the main bulk of the veteran members arrived onboard. Toland began to notice confused stares more often then not lining up his way. Toland just smirked and held in a chuckle. "Hey, looks like you have a fun club dude," Toland told his droid. Betuu scanned the room, literally, and noticed the veteran eyes looking back at him. Betuu knew that he was sore thumb in a room full of fleshy beings, but he not shaken by the revelation. "Looks like you should have a reason to worried big guy," Toland joked. Betuu simulated a laugh with a simple automated, "ha."</s>	<\|message\|>Slooga Besadii Nem'ro He watched some of the replacements come in with impassive eyes; the Intruder wasn't a standard Alliance Navy ship, though the fleet largely was sitting back and building itself up for larger actions while the starfighters and smaller ships, like the Intruder, took the war to the enemy in raiding actions. Hit and fade, hit and fade. And while the Liberators were a line regiment, in theory, the reality is that they'd been converted from urban guerrillas to an army regiment to marine platoons in their time in the Alliance. That was the dice -- a new strategist came in and changed the old strategy, which forced everyone to adapt. It was the cycle of life and death, lessons learned and surviving in a tough environment. He was like Vannin; stashing non regulation equipment away when the Captain showed up. He'd acquired a vibroblade on one of their boarding actions, that was carefully placed in a footlocker and stowed along with the operational equipment; he had a Compforce-issue armored suit vest that he was radically modifying and fitting out with attachment points that also was put away. The Captain looked the other way on things so long as discipline appeared in order. The pirate crew hid itself in their section of the corvette, and Slooga graciously stayed in his quarters when such inspections happened. It wasn't the Imperial Army, but obvious disrepair tended to bring down the disapproval and no one needed that. The battle droid drew more attention from the assembled troopers than the replacement accompanying the battle droid. "A clanker?" whispered Besk, "I've never seen one of these before." Though there was at least one droid in the cargo hold that none of them could actually activate -- the security protocols were more advanced than their knowledge, which was saying something for a pretty tech-savvy crew. The droid looked like it had weaponry installed, and that made it a security model or something that could, theoretically, be put to use guarding the unit's armory when Besk wasn't around or the platoon was deployed. As the platoon's armorer, the locker's security was his job. Usually, the duty of securing it was done in shifts, or, if dropping, by a wounded trooper or someone not going on the drop. Never the Intruder's crew. Worse came to worst, they'd lock it tight, but a droid could fill the gap. "Yeah, well you were knee-high to a strill when the Clone War ended, weren't you?" muttered another trooper. "Look at it this way," Besk shot back in a low tone of voice, "At least one of the replacements is really ready to go. Wonder how Palps' vat-grown plastic boys are going to feel about that one...think those clones get nostalgic for the good old days?"</s>
<\|description\|>Slooga Besadii Nem'ro Species: Hutt Age: 452 Planet of Origin/Birth: Nal Hutta Force Sensitive Y/N: No; it's safe to say Slooga isn't very sensitive to much, least of all things that involve kindness, generosity or anything not directly related to preserving his own skin. Appearance:A hutt. Ho-ho-ho-ho. Slooga prefers wide brimmed hats and a cane, because he's an alien space pimp. Description:Prior to a bad deal with Imperial Forces, Slooga Besadii Nem'ro was a crime lord working out of Ord Vetasi, runing a salvage and repair business that was actually a sophisticated ship theft and sales ring, supplying pirates, planetary defense forces looking for a bargain, separatists and others ships. Unwittingly, he also supplied ships to the Rebel Alliance, which is why the Empire finally came for him. He boosted off with what was left of his organization and went into the privateering business for the Rebel Alliance. It turned out that quite a number of pirates and smugglers in his operations had Rebel Sympathies and now he is only nominally in command with underlings to do his will for him if his operations are consistent with helping the Rebellion. He detests getting stuck in this position of having to take a side, but is resolved to make the best lemonade he can out of the lemons. It goes without saying that his pirate crew are not entirely in love with Slooga, but they are using his contacts to help move ships and loot on the black market when the Rebel Alliance isn't buying. There is even less love lost between Slooga and the troopers of 1st Platoon, but they are often roped into his money-making schemes as a result of being stationed on the Intruder. Slooga is, in a sense, a necessary evil and handles the supply and logistic end of the ship's needs, though the troops and pirates alike watch to make sure he's not shafting them in the process. It's worth noting that his one servant is a SE4 servant droid known as SE4I5, or High-Five, who does the cooking for Slooga as well as the various tasks that a slave might do...if all of his hadn't run off when the Empire came along. This impoverishment embitters Slooga, and he dreams longingly of acquiring a new palace once he's profiteered off this war.</s> <\|message\|>Toland Vas Toland spasmed for a moment, being caugh off guard twice in a literal matter of seconds. He should of known that the HK-51 unit he had worked on weeks ago would be persistent, but being close to a stalker never came to mind. "I'm sorry, one second," Toland asked Tadia politely with a hint of embarrassment. He turned to HK, grabbed the droid by the "shoulders" and stared him directly into his sensors. "I'm sorry, but this is getting to be a little much," Toland told the droid outright. "I am not your master. I don't want I be your master. I want you to find the person with the most facial hair in this room and make him your master. That is a direct order!" With that done, Toland turned back to Tadia with as much composure he could muster and saluted her. "Private Toland Vas, at your service. Not a complete idiot and yes, good with droids. My big metal friend here is Betuu. Say hi." "Hi," Betuu copies as if he were a big weaponize parrot. "Also, side note," Toland added in, "I don't condone anything the HK unit just said before. He's not mine."</s> <\|message\|>Thanner Antares Thanner stood among the regiment's new recruits, and could not help but turn up his nose at the stench of cheap liquor in the air. He knew that the regiment's soldiers considered themselves to be separate from the pirate crew aboard the Intruder, but he found it difficult to make that distinction himself. As he glanced across the room at the veterans of the unit, the likely source of the foul odor, he noticed one of the soldiers pointing a finger at him and muttering about. Thanner smirked and turned away, undoubtedly projecting a foulness of his own. It was the stench of arrogance. Of elitism. A stench not so easily washed away. In his short time with the Rebellion Thanner had become privy to such accusatory gestures and mutterings, and he had become exceedingly adept at shrugging them off. Perhaps too adept. Thanner refocused his attention as the new Lieutenant spoke. "My name is Lieutenant Durod Byron. I understand you folks have been holding your own out here for some time, and Fleet Command is real happy about the way you boy... you folks do work." "Not a great start," Thanner thought to himself, glancing around again at the rugged folks in his midst. "Now we're here to fill in some gaps, and help you keep doing what you do best. I know this can be a little awkward, and hopefully we'll get used to each other pretty quick, but in the meantime I just want you all to know that I'm not here to change the way you fellas do business. I'm gonna do my best to stay out of your hair, and together we'll get the JOB done, your way. So. Take a few minutes and get acquainted. The new guys brought a little extra gear, feel free to help them square it away, and we'll meet up in the briefing room in two hours. Got a hot new target in mind, should be a good hit." To say that things would be a little awkward was surely an understatement, but Thanner was confident that he would soon be able to smooth things over. He had been in tough spots before, but he had always been able to talk his way out of a situation. In truth, his tongue had saved him more times than he could count, and it was what allowed him to excel as an agent of the Empire. Thanner had much less confidence however, in the Lieutenant's ability to lead. Thanner knew that, above all, these gruff military-types responded to authority and detested weakness. After what these men had been through, they had no place for weakness. Lieutenant Byron possessed authority on paper, but he oozed weakness through every orifice, and Thanner knew that the veterans would detect this as surely as he detected their disgusting aroma. He wondered how long the Lieutenant could survive in this environment. After the Lieutenant finished his address, Thanner made his way across the hangar, deliberately walking past the same soldier that had been unsubtlety gesturing in his direction previously. "Guess he doesn't want us punching the new guys just yet, huh," he heard the soldier say. "I should certainly hope not," Thanner replied casually, "For your sake." Turning his back to the soldier, Thanner carried on. He saw the Lieutenant whispering something to a woman before exiting the hangar, and he managed to catch the woman's eye with his own piercing gaze. He strode over to the woman and extended his hand, ensuring that the display was seen by the soldier he had mocked. "Sergeant Sekula I presume? My name is Antares...Thanner Antares."</s> <\|message\|>Tadia Omi-Ren "Doc" Tadia sighed at the response of the droid. Saying she was threatening, out of everyone in the room she was by far the least likely to do anything harmful towards him than any of the other veterans. She rolled her eyes as she sent it away. "You may regret doing that later, Beskad won't be happy with a puppy dog following him around calling him master." She paused for a second. "Or he might, however in the case that he doesn't your secrets safe with me." She briefly returned the salute, feeling stupid as she did so. "Also relax, I'm just a lance corporal-" She offered her hand. "Tadia, though most call me Doc. As you can tell I'm the Doctor slash medic. Well I do a lot of medic work but I got my doctorate and one of the few of us who has so... yeah just stick to Doc or Tadia." She took out her datapad and brought up an image of a IM-6 medical droid. "I'm having some problems with the droid in the med-bay. His repulsors are shot, as is his diagnostic equipment so I'm needing to tell him what needs to be done and oversee everything he does to make sure that he doesn't do more harm than good. It's becoming a bit of an inconvienance." She shrugged as she clipped her datapad back to her waist. "Can you fix it?"</s> <\|message\|>Toland Vas Toland gratefully took Tadia's hand and shook. "Well first, sorry to bring this up but most IM-6 models were manufactured with feminine programming," Toland replied, "but yeah, this is like a half an hour fix tops. IM-6s may of been top class back in their day, but Cybot Galactica shit the bed manufacturing those girls for longvity. Fixing the repulsors will just take a little calibrating. She will probably have trouble the first few days, but after a week she will be zooming around like she found a chem stash." Toland stopped for a second and scratched his chin. "Her equipment might need some tinkering. It's a problem I'd have too look at first hand. What kind of equipment is she packing? I'm only coming up with blanks right now." Toland looked behind her for a second, noticing that the veterans had turned their interest from Betuu to him. "So," he brought up abruptly, "how long do you think I have to live out here?"</s> <\|message\|>Corporal Jenk Beskad "Hopefully, long enough," he replied to Toland's survival question "I'm Corporal Beskad, the platoon armorer. All you new arrivals need to see me so we can do a weapons function check," he said casually, "so we can make sure nothing goes 'click' when we need it to go 'pow.'" There was a second reason he wanted to check people's weapons out, and that was to casually assess their skills at marksmanship. As the Alliance had diverse sources of training, it was important to find out what the new guys knew and what they didn't, and Besk felt that a 'function check' was a nicer way of doing that than telling them outright that they were going to have to qualify for marksmanship under his eye. Also, it was real -- the Alliance had multiple sources of blasters, and that meant having to inspect the weapons. "Also, I notice that both the droids are combat models, so I'd like to see if we can start putting them on sentry duty over the weapons locker. The crew of the Intruder," and he said this without batting an eyelash even though he was shagging the gunnery officer and every one of the veterans knew it, "are not what we'd call entirely trustworthy and we have a Hutt on board. Security for our weaponry and explosives is a must." It meant they could free up more duty time by putting a droid on it for other jobs, so Besk was jumping right on that opportunity. But as he spoke of 'untrustworthy' his eyes tracked Thanner; he wasn't going to say it where the Lieutenant could hear it, but there was a reason he wanted a droid on weapons locker detail -- they had an Imperial agent on board and he didn't like that any more than his comrades. He actually felt a little naked without firepower strapped to his hip in the form of a pistol or something similar.</s> <\|message\|>Toland Vas "Yes sir," Toland replied. "No need to worry about Betuu here. His security subroutines are some of the best the old Seps could offer. Also, he is the type of guy to go pow-pow, or pow-pow-pow, sir." Toland looked back to the HK-51 unit, who was still probably scanning the room to fulfill his new objective. "Honesty sir, you can keep the brown one. Very clingy bot, but from what info I have it seems to be some kind of old assassin protocol droid. Favorited thousands of years ago. He might need a little weapons calibration, but he should be ship-shape for use. Nobody is getting at your guns with him around." Betuu butted into the conversation, spamming beeps and boops like there was no tomorrow. "What have I told you about not insulting people in Droid Speak," Toland replied. "'It is not cool,'" the droid replied in basic.</s>	<\|message\|>Slooga Besadii Nem'ro "No need to sir me, I work for my living. Just do me a favor and make sure the droids get over to the armory and do some weapons calibration tests to make sure their blasters are functioning properly, and bring your personal weaponry along as well. I want to shake everyone's equipment down before the next drop, whatever it is. Then we can talk about putting the droids on sentry duty. I like the idea of having droids that shoot to kill on the locker, given our situation in here." He meant Thanner as much as Slooga or the pirates; the Hutt was no doubt salivating, ugly mental image, at the idea of some sort of Imperial Intelligence agent in the ship. Besk wasn't going to take a chance with those two on board. Heck, Slooga had a price on his head from the Empire too, and hopefully the Sarge was canny enough to remind the old slug of that. It frustrated Besk a bit that they had no idea what the next op was, though they'd know in an hour, which was enough time to wash up a bit more and try to get the pounding out from behind his eyes. The Lieutenant could have given them a hint of what they were doing, but Besk took it all in stride -- for the most part, they were a pirate ship's unusually disciplined boarding force. The Intruder's crew were old hands at raiding commerce and the Liberators had experienced guerrilas and miners in their ranks that knew how to fight in tight quarters. The truth was, the training on Uslam for conversion from guerrilla to line infantry was tough, but it made them more versatile. They just hadn't been called on those skills yet in any substantial way. The Rebellion just wasn't fighting open pitched battles with an Empire that could overwhelm them at any given point. The strategy was to hit fast and make them constantly react. But when the Empire showed up in force, the Alliance went to ground and just gathered the intel on the movements. Wash, rinse, repeat.</s>
<\|description\|>Slooga Besadii Nem'ro Species: Hutt Age: 452 Planet of Origin/Birth: Nal Hutta Force Sensitive Y/N: No; it's safe to say Slooga isn't very sensitive to much, least of all things that involve kindness, generosity or anything not directly related to preserving his own skin. Appearance:A hutt. Ho-ho-ho-ho. Slooga prefers wide brimmed hats and a cane, because he's an alien space pimp. Description:Prior to a bad deal with Imperial Forces, Slooga Besadii Nem'ro was a crime lord working out of Ord Vetasi, runing a salvage and repair business that was actually a sophisticated ship theft and sales ring, supplying pirates, planetary defense forces looking for a bargain, separatists and others ships. Unwittingly, he also supplied ships to the Rebel Alliance, which is why the Empire finally came for him. He boosted off with what was left of his organization and went into the privateering business for the Rebel Alliance. It turned out that quite a number of pirates and smugglers in his operations had Rebel Sympathies and now he is only nominally in command with underlings to do his will for him if his operations are consistent with helping the Rebellion. He detests getting stuck in this position of having to take a side, but is resolved to make the best lemonade he can out of the lemons. It goes without saying that his pirate crew are not entirely in love with Slooga, but they are using his contacts to help move ships and loot on the black market when the Rebel Alliance isn't buying. There is even less love lost between Slooga and the troopers of 1st Platoon, but they are often roped into his money-making schemes as a result of being stationed on the Intruder. Slooga is, in a sense, a necessary evil and handles the supply and logistic end of the ship's needs, though the troops and pirates alike watch to make sure he's not shafting them in the process. It's worth noting that his one servant is a SE4 servant droid known as SE4I5, or High-Five, who does the cooking for Slooga as well as the various tasks that a slave might do...if all of his hadn't run off when the Empire came along. This impoverishment embitters Slooga, and he dreams longingly of acquiring a new palace once he's profiteered off this war.</s> <\|message\|>Tadia Omi-Ren "Doc" Tadia shrugged as the Imperial came over - small ship, big mouths - and began speaking to the Sgt, before rubbing her scars. "You better have clean hands, if that gets infected it's on you. Also if your fingers get broken, your fault too." With that Toland came over and spoke to her about the droid. She just sighed. "You know, you're going to need to gather some form of marksmanship skills sooner or later. Even I can shoot a gun, and hit something." A couple of the veterans stopped on the way passed giving her looks. "I can hit stuff most of that time." They continued giving the look. "Do you want medical treatment in the future?" With that they walked off. She turned her attention back to Toland. "What did I tell you? One big happy family. Full of some absolute-" The new Lieutenant walked past "-amazing people." She winked at Toland. "Come with me I'll show you Iggy. Don't ask me how he got the name I got him with it, I just kinda rolled with it." She turned signalling down the hall in a Move out! gesture before walking out of the hanger. The ship was in... various states of disrepair. A couple of the panels were original though a large portion of them seemed to have been replaced to either take the place of damaged ones or to fit in some form of upgrade to the ship. Even in her pirate days a lot of work had been done to the ship, so they were told. She walked into the med-bay, like all med-bays it was largely white and sterile with a couple of stains here and there. Four beds lay side by side, two of them occupied and there was space for a bacta tank at either end of the room as well as what would be presumed as a door into surgery. Plants littered most of the free spaces in order to try and create a nice smell, however you could still smell the oil and hydrulic smell that inhabited most of the ship. As they entered a small droid tried to hover off one of the beds, falling ot the floor and almost scraping along the floor in their general direction. "Toland, meet Iggy. He's like my pet, but more useless." She bent down as if speaking to a small animal, changing her tone of voice. "Isn't that right Iggy?""Affirmative." She stood up. "Told you."</s> <\|message\|>Toland Vas "Hi Iggy," Toland began, "your boss here told me that you haven't been doing well lately. I'm here to help. You can call me a doctor of sorts. A droid doctor! Top ten in my class in The Grand Skakoan Insitute of Droid Technologies." It was obvious that the issue here wasn't just some bad Cybot Galacitic longevity issues. Well, it was a part of the problem. No something else was keeping the little droid down. Toland turned to Tadia, his mind racing at different possibilities. The first thing that came to mind was Iggy's modifications. A small model droid like a IM-6 would have issues hovering after a while with non-factory standard mods. "Ok so I have some ideas brewing," he told her. "Do you have spare small power cells laying around?"</s> <\|message\|>Tadia Omi-Ren "Doc" Tadia burst out laughing, before slapping her side. Though she soon stopped. "Wait you're serious?" She put on a consoling face and walked over, putting her hand on Tolands shoulder. "Toland, this is the Rebel Alliance. We don't have spare anythings." She took a moment to look around. She ended up walking over to one of the older model MD droids sitting in the corner, turned it around and puilled the fusion battery out of it before tossing it over. "Use this, this MD droid has had it. In fact if you get Iggy working you can have it as fair payment for your time. Whether for spare parts or if you want to fix it up. Your call." She looked at Iggy. "I don't even understand why this is happening, the only thing that isn't box standard as far as I know is his masculine programming. No extra drug compartments or anything like that. Though I wouldn't put anything past happening on this ship."</s> <\|message\|>Toland Vas "I was just going to ask if you were up for some drink later on after this," Toland replied with a smile as he looked onto the MD droid. The old model had definitely seen hard days, either through hours of long surgery or medicating the unsavory crew of the Intruder. "If you want I can still take that old guy off your hands. Turn him into something useful like an clock or something." Toland took the power cell and hooked it up directly to Iggy's repulsorlift, overclocking it by about one-hundred and fifty percent. Along with that, Toland redirected all of the IM-6's base power cells directly to all other systems and equipment. If his hunch was right, little Iggy would be zipping and zooming around like an X-Wing pilot on the roughest drugs in the galaxy. "Ok Iggy, I want you to do five laps around the med-bay. I want you to stay low in case there something else is going on and you lose control. After the second lap, I want you to go as high as you can and show us what you are made of."</s> <\|message\|>Tadia Omi-Ren "Doc" Tadia laughed again. "Alcohol on an Ex-Pirate ship? Well. That's just a recipe for disaster. Alcohol only on shore leave, except the stuff I have in here for cleaning wounds." She pointed to a locked cabinet. "And even then I need to keep an eye on it that it doesn't go missing." She sighed as the droid went around the room, banging into things as he did so, after a couple of attempts at circumventing a bed he rocketed up into the air hitting the ceiling before falling back down, flat on his back. "I did tell you he couldn't see, right?" She winced as he sparked slightly, he was pretty much toast. "I think Iggy might be a longer term project than you had hoped he would be and what I would hope he would be." She eyed around the room, as if saying something that was secret and she shouldn't say. "Between you and me, I think he's the only other doctor other than me." Then she stopped. "Well, that's actually true. Well, he's not a Doctor but he has the same training. I mean there are plenty of medics around." She grabbed her jacket in a show of pride. "But I'm a doctor, got my diploma somewhere... though I can't remember where I put it. The Hutt probably sold it for alcohol or something, I don't know." Her chrono beeped. "Though the mystery of the missing Doctorate will have to wait for another time, briefing time."</s> <\|message\|>Lieutenant Durod Byron a short time later Sergeant Sekula called the room to order as Lt. Byron entered. All the Liberators were gathered -- old and new -- for their first mission brief together as a unit. Byron, feeling himself like the newest face, was quick to put everyone at ease, and rolled hastily into the mission overview. This objective had come from Fleet command prior to his arrival, so it came with holo imagery from the Intel division. He controlled these with a small remote, and flicked through points of interest as he spoke. "Everyone settling in, I hope? Well, we'll get back to that soon enough, but first things first." A developed world flicked onto the display. "You're looking at Col Besba. Unassuming planet, not much special about it. Imperial controlled, but they get a lot of slack and we're about to take advantage." The holo display zoomed in on a spaceport. "This is Ganatoo, primary trade hub and home to a skeleton Imperial garrison. Now these aren't fighters -- it's a support unit for the Lionesse, a Victory-class destroyer that patrols the sector. We're talking mostly spanner jockeys stationed here, with a small security detail that mostly stays home to protect their supplies from the criminal elements. Today, we don't bother them and they don't bother us -- we're interested in the comm relays, out here on the outskirts of the city." The display moved again, west about a click, and displayed a confounding array of antennae and power stations. "Intel is.... what was the word they used... 'keenly interested' in cracking the Imperial secured networks. They've had some success, but now they're looking for a way to introduce some kind of worm, which they've given to us. Our primary objective is to introduce this worm to this relay. From there it bounces off the Lionesse and into sith-knows-what, and if we're lucky, someday the data finds its way back to the spooks. If that's ever going to happen, we can't have the imps smelling rebel activity, or they'll just purge the worm before it can do its thing, which brings us to our second objective. "Your good friend Slooga has offered to support the mission. He has interests in Ganatoo, and a personal visit shouldn't trigger any red flags on the spaceport's traffic logs. A personal visit also means personal security, which will serve as our cover for the relay op. We'll ingress on Slooga's craft in two teams, one for nominal security on Slooga, and one for the slicing objective. Slooga's team will stay with him and -- this goes without saying -- keep him safe for as long as it takes to close his deal. Presently there's nothing to suggest any threats on that front, but this isn't the core worlds, so keep your heads on a swivel. When the deal is done, security detail will give the all clear and the slicers will rejoin at the craft for exfil. "Two things can blow this op wide open. One, the Lionesse goes off-schedule and returns to Col Besba before the slicers are open. Their software detects a hack, it's game over. Fleet is watching them closely and if she jumps our way, we'll have thirty minutes to get clear or lie low. Number two, if the imperial garrison gets any hint of Alliance, they might -- if they're smart -- think to check the codes. If they do that, the worm is dead and we failed. This is an undercover operation -- uniforms off, leave any standard gear at home, and act as Cartel as you can manage for as long as you're on site. The preference is we do this whole thing undetected, but if enemy contact is inevitable, plan B is to make this look like crime. We have discretion to either pull the worm out, or leave it in place and disguise the op as something else. Swipe a few credits from the Imperial slush fund, and they might just miss the real damage. "A sensor sweep can happen at any time, so keep the comm channels clear. We're going to use real basic codes for status updates -- security detail, you're the pet nerf. Slicers, you're the weather. Check on the other team by asking about the weather or the nerf. If one of you has a problem, the nerf is sick, the weather is bad, whatever sounds natural, just keep it short. If everything goes according to plan, we're in and out and back on deck in four hours or less. "Sergeant Sekula will be leading the slicer team. Dob, Beskad, you'll go along too, in case we need to run plan B. I want the droids with Slooga's detail, along with anybody else who can pass for a pirate. If you've got preferences, talk to the sergeant. We'll need our teams ready by 2300. "Questions, concerns, anything that needs clearing up?"</s>	<\|message\|>Slooga Besadii Nem'ro "Yes, sir," Besk spoke up, "I realize this is more Slooga's end than ours," but they'd been guerrillas, so he had something to add, "do we have a profile on local security forces? They can be rough here in the Rim, as they know more tricks, but usually they can be paid off." Good guerrillas often had criminal mindsets, it was said, always looking at an angle... He let that sink in, "also, do we have ground transport in case we need to get out and go to ground as a contingency? If compromised, the Intruder can boost off and make a pickup later once the heat is off, but we should have alternate extract sites prepared in case the heat is bad and we can't reach the first extract point. This is a guerrilla operation sir, we need code phrases for being overrun and captured, so we can tell you to essentially disregard all broadcasts." Thanner; the reason Besk wanted to make sure that if he were caught, others got away. He didn't have to look at he other Uslamers; they knew the terror of having a friend captured and used against them, the strain of letting the bait die in ISB hands, horribly. They knew what it was like to have to kill friends that were comprised, what a bitter decision it could be to kill a friend to save your own skin to keep fighting. These were the ambiguities. The hard calculus of guerrilla war. Besk wanted to make sure that if all went wrong, his friends wouldn't get killed to rescue him if the odds were against. After all, they were dead men with bad odds the day they decided to fight the Empire and nothing changed there. That grim outlook was why alliance command rated the Liberators' morale, as a regiment, as "Excellent-- highly motivated to fight."</s>
<\|description\|>Slooga Besadii Nem'ro Species: Hutt Age: 452 Planet of Origin/Birth: Nal Hutta Force Sensitive Y/N: No; it's safe to say Slooga isn't very sensitive to much, least of all things that involve kindness, generosity or anything not directly related to preserving his own skin. Appearance:A hutt. Ho-ho-ho-ho. Slooga prefers wide brimmed hats and a cane, because he's an alien space pimp. Description:Prior to a bad deal with Imperial Forces, Slooga Besadii Nem'ro was a crime lord working out of Ord Vetasi, runing a salvage and repair business that was actually a sophisticated ship theft and sales ring, supplying pirates, planetary defense forces looking for a bargain, separatists and others ships. Unwittingly, he also supplied ships to the Rebel Alliance, which is why the Empire finally came for him. He boosted off with what was left of his organization and went into the privateering business for the Rebel Alliance. It turned out that quite a number of pirates and smugglers in his operations had Rebel Sympathies and now he is only nominally in command with underlings to do his will for him if his operations are consistent with helping the Rebellion. He detests getting stuck in this position of having to take a side, but is resolved to make the best lemonade he can out of the lemons. It goes without saying that his pirate crew are not entirely in love with Slooga, but they are using his contacts to help move ships and loot on the black market when the Rebel Alliance isn't buying. There is even less love lost between Slooga and the troopers of 1st Platoon, but they are often roped into his money-making schemes as a result of being stationed on the Intruder. Slooga is, in a sense, a necessary evil and handles the supply and logistic end of the ship's needs, though the troops and pirates alike watch to make sure he's not shafting them in the process. It's worth noting that his one servant is a SE4 servant droid known as SE4I5, or High-Five, who does the cooking for Slooga as well as the various tasks that a slave might do...if all of his hadn't run off when the Empire came along. This impoverishment embitters Slooga, and he dreams longingly of acquiring a new palace once he's profiteered off this war.</s> <\|message\|>Slooga Besadii Nem'ro Traffic control was a small room with a large mainframe and a few access terminals, designed to control an entire plannet's ship traffic grid and provide very precise model predictions as well as interact with ships' nav computers and autopilots to provide the necessary data to get them down safely, or at least to provide pilots the guidance. Luckily, the company that provided it also provided the code to Rebel programmers, who swiftly developed very efficient viruses to penetrate the system and bug it. The PDA being used for the virus insertion by Toland went off with a warning, intended to go off if a security station arose. Handed the pad, Serossa's eyes widened considerably even as she got on the commlink with the LT and Intruder's bridge and announced, "Dove hunt." That was the code word for Imperial trouble, that the mission was compromised by Imperial Forces. A Pigeon Trap was bounty hunters and a Duck Lure was local law enforcement. A Dove Hunt was a definite abort; if the Empire caught wind of them, they'd pile on the reinforcements and firepower until the rebels were dead. One could shoot their way past local forces and buy off or gun down bounty hunters, but the Imperials with the element of surprise was a good reason to fade out of the system as quickly as possible. She turned to the others, after hitting the pad several times to abort the upload, scrub the stuff already in the Ganatoo system and sanitize the logs to show nothing ever happened. The mission was burned; if the upload were to complete itself, it would be able to conceal itself in the system, but a partial upload would be unstable and possibly reveal itself to the Imperials. An abort and erasure meant having to start over from scratch on the upload, but at least the Imperials might not ever be the wiser for the hack attempt. "Lionesse is en route, looks like, they just cleared all traffic in the Ganatoo pattern for an Imperial Code VTRL. We walk out real casual," she told the rest, "and we go to the port's speeder parking. But anything that we didn't encounter coming in that tries to stop us gets blasted." Besk nodded; assume ISB and shoot to kill; and as Besk figured-- suicide rather than capture. It might get messy, but any bribed guards would possibly turn on them with imperial trouble-- the Empire cared little for smuggling but a lot about Rebels and they'd paid smuggler rate bribes suitable for local, not Imperial, trouble. "I'll lead Serossa," he said casually, knowing that the point had to kill fast; Sekula needed to be on Thanner's back and Thanner couldn't be up on point. Toland was a cherry. Besk threw him a wink he didn't feel. "I've got rear," the sarge said as they moved out, along the slightly shabby blue-painted plastoid hallways of Ganatoo, eventually melding with the crowd of regular people who were not, it seemed, panicking or trying to necessarily leave, though they were held up in the terminal. That, to Besk's eyes, looked good -- the security people didn't look all that surprised, and while all the departures and arrivals showed delays, it didn't look like the trouble was spaceport trouble. He didn't quite dare breathe a sigh of relief as they got out the doors; the Sarge clearly didn't see anything either, since she was the one best qualified to spot a tail and off the bastard if necessary. But so far, all clear, especially when they took a few turns into less crowded areas, checked the horizon for any signs of surveillance. If they were being tracked, they'd have to be good, and if they were that good, the Liberators were probably burned. Shockingly, they made it to their speeder truck, "borrowed" with no sign that they were the object of he security problem; a quick scan of hacked local comms, using code lifted from the traffic control system indicated it was...of course. Slooga. "What's the plan, Sarge?"</s> <\|message\|>Lieutenant Durod Byron "Heads up." By now all the Liberators on the escort detail were wise to the danger at hand. They all tried to keep a low profile even though they were on high alert -- Vannin even managed to quiet himself, expecting imminent trouble. Trouble came. Slooga shook hands with the local contact, and the local contact didn't let go. The facade bled away in an instant -- muzzles left their holsters on both ends of the square. The contact raised his voice. "You all know the game," the man said loudly. "Sooner or later they get us all. Imps pinched me three weeks ago, and I walk if I give them the hutt. Walk away now, we'll do the same." "Bastard!" Slooga bellowed. "You can shoot it out if you like," the contact continued, ignoring his new prisoner. "Their frigate is already enroute. You can make it out if you run, but not if you fight. Just walk away. Leave the hutt with me, and one of you can take his place, I don't care. We can do this nice and easy, or we c..." The contact stopped short. He let go of Slooga's hand, and crumpled to the ground with an audible sizzling sound. Slooga turned to face his men, a disruptor pistol smoking in his left hand. "Kill them all!" he roared. The battle erupted in a flash. Pirates from both sides opened fire. Vannin sprayed a hail of bolts at the high rise opposite their position, then loaded a fresh cell and advanced, crouching and weaving his way towards Slooga, who was already flanked by troopers. Lt. Byron was there, letting loose with a heavy pistol and trying to speak calmly into his communicator. He was doing a poor job. Vannin snatched it out of his hands and screamed, "Nerf just shit the bed, get over here and clean it up! Now!" A hostile ran towards them, and Keller pitched the communicator at him, then brought up his rifle and took him down hard. "We need a plan!" Byron shouted. "We need to bug out!" Keller agreed. Slooga was barking orders. His pirates might have heard them, but Byron ignored them entirely. "Corporal!" he yelled, grabbing Vannin's shoulder. "Secure a path to the shuttle!" Vannin nodded. "Give me three minutes. And send the slug now! He'll slow you down!" He tossed a grenade into the hostile end of the square and turned on his heels. "Hayca! Fish! On me!" The three of them moved into the alley. The squad was surrounded -- but not for long. Meanwhile, Lt. Byron labored in vain to separate Slooga from the front line of the firefight. By now the friendlies had gained a slim edge, but more enemies were pouring in, and stormtroopers wouldn't be far behind. Confounded, Byron spotted Tadia nearby. "Doc!" he called. "We gotta get him moving now. You're in charge. Get. Him. On. That. Shuttle!" Someone called out a flanking move by the enemy, and Byron's attention was absorbed once more in the shooting. He slid into cover a few meters away, and tried his luck giving orders to Slooga's pirates. Slooga, furious but at last realizing the futility of prolonging the issue, growled and cursed, and at last began to cooperate with his Alliance team. "Get me out," he muttered.</s> <\|message\|>Tadia Omi-Ren "Doc" Tadia jumped behind cover, firing her rifle over it. "I'm in charge of the Hutt? I hope you get shot Byron." She jumped over the barrier literally pushing the giant slug towards an alleyway. "Stay in cover idiot." The Hutt cursed something in huttese. "Yeah, if you got something to say that isn't nice keep it in your mouth. Though you should probably do as I say right now as I've never operated on a Hutt before, and do you really want me to start now?" She winced as she realized the supplies were left behind, raising her commlink she spoke into it. "Lt. The Medical supplies, we can't just leave them behind. We need them. Otherwise next time someone gets shot I'm going to have to use a hammer as sedative." She ducked looked around the corner as more people began running towards them. "I really hate this job sometimes."</s> <\|message\|>Betuu Essbede Betuu was laying waste to backwater scum left and right, finally back in his element. The rouges were nothing like the highly trained clone of his day. The clones were brave and almost worthy of his respect. Bioengineered machines of war. The perfect foil to glory of The Confederacy. These idiots were cowards, cowering behind cover like rats. Betuu was happy to exterminate them. Betuu planted himself behind a civilian speeder and unleashed the fury of his blasters on any fool who rose from cover. "Advise," Betuu suggested over the comms, "the opposing forces here are being reactionary and do not seem to have set up any official plan-of-attack for this engagement. Recommend complete elimination of current ground forces before the arrival of reinforcement. No witnesses. Will allow surviving rebels time to escape off world." ----------- Toland was already at the speeder when alarms began to sound from the spaceport. Looks like someone had woken up from his nap. He grabbed his pistol, which he had snuck into the glove compartment of the stolen ride. This is it, he thought. "We should probably get out of here and meet with the others," Toland thought aloud, but he had a sneaking suspicion that his opinion wasn't worth a credit to them.</s>	<\|message\|>Slooga Besadii Nem'ro "Have Betuu give us approximate location of forces and other pertinent tac data," he told Toland, instantaneously grasping that Betuu wasn't going to lose his cool in reporting everything concisely and accurately where the Lieutenant might be a little busy having his first firefight. It was an intuitive thing on Besk's part, but he knew it was a good gut call. A droid might be limited in devising a plan, but you could always rely on one to provide a pretty accurate kriffing report in a pinch, which would really help them get it together. Behind the wheel of the speeder truck, Besk managed to drive recklessly fast, using the navigation assistance console and the HUD display that advised him that he was breaking the speeding laws -- of course, right now, the locals were probably way more concerned about a firefight than traffic control. As they drew closer to the fighting, Besk used the information from Betuu to position the truck with a good line of escape close to a good ambush point that'd give them a clear pop at the enemy's flanks. It was still taking too long, even at the speeds at which he was moving. In any case, they had limited weapons but could still pull off a hit-and-fade ambush, "This is the plan," he briefed the others quickly, "Infiltrate, hit contacts with grenades, open fire when the frags go off," it had to be fast, and wanted to give the others the gist of the plan there. "Pull back if it's hairy, link with the LT if we can. If not, back to this van and we bug out. Stay alive." The speeder truck, dilapidated as it was, fit well with the grimy industrial backdrop of Ganatoo, and the vehicle itself was inconspicuous. Using the navigational data, he had a good idea of where to park the thing and disembark the passengers, himself included, with a pistol in hand. He had a det on him, and it would be used. They had to finish this business quickly, and that's why he moved quickly, finding the right sort of urban/industrial cover in the form of crates and trash receptacles as he tried to pick a low-visibility approach on the enemy, guided by the sounds of their fire. It was taking just too kriffing long, with Liberators under fire, and Besk wanted to relieve the pressure, but not get killed doing it. They were taking risks, already, by moving the way they were, which was fast enough to draw notice if the bounty hunters had lookouts. It was a calculated risk, hoping that the bounty hunters were unaware of any other operation outside of the spaceport. When they were in place, braced against cover, Besk let the detonator fly, initiating their ambush. He only stopped long enough to note that it wasn't Imperial military, yet, but rather, fringe scum, not infantry. The plan would work even better on them, or worse if they were professional mercs, though he doubted they were due to a lack of sentries -- Bounty hunters tended to focus on the prey and didn't tend to expect actual reinforcement or the targets to fight back like trained military. There was a grouping of them pouring on fire on the Lieutenant and Slooga and the shuttle with a light repeating blaster, and they had a real good field of fire with a weapon that had good range and rate of fire. The detonator went off and that's when the blaster fire came up, gratifyingly on cue, and that's when the bounty hunters started to get confused about where the fire was coming from.</s>
<\|description\|>Slooga Besadii Nem'ro Species: Hutt Age: 452 Planet of Origin/Birth: Nal Hutta Force Sensitive Y/N: No; it's safe to say Slooga isn't very sensitive to much, least of all things that involve kindness, generosity or anything not directly related to preserving his own skin. Appearance:A hutt. Ho-ho-ho-ho. Slooga prefers wide brimmed hats and a cane, because he's an alien space pimp. Description:Prior to a bad deal with Imperial Forces, Slooga Besadii Nem'ro was a crime lord working out of Ord Vetasi, runing a salvage and repair business that was actually a sophisticated ship theft and sales ring, supplying pirates, planetary defense forces looking for a bargain, separatists and others ships. Unwittingly, he also supplied ships to the Rebel Alliance, which is why the Empire finally came for him. He boosted off with what was left of his organization and went into the privateering business for the Rebel Alliance. It turned out that quite a number of pirates and smugglers in his operations had Rebel Sympathies and now he is only nominally in command with underlings to do his will for him if his operations are consistent with helping the Rebellion. He detests getting stuck in this position of having to take a side, but is resolved to make the best lemonade he can out of the lemons. It goes without saying that his pirate crew are not entirely in love with Slooga, but they are using his contacts to help move ships and loot on the black market when the Rebel Alliance isn't buying. There is even less love lost between Slooga and the troopers of 1st Platoon, but they are often roped into his money-making schemes as a result of being stationed on the Intruder. Slooga is, in a sense, a necessary evil and handles the supply and logistic end of the ship's needs, though the troops and pirates alike watch to make sure he's not shafting them in the process. It's worth noting that his one servant is a SE4 servant droid known as SE4I5, or High-Five, who does the cooking for Slooga as well as the various tasks that a slave might do...if all of his hadn't run off when the Empire came along. This impoverishment embitters Slooga, and he dreams longingly of acquiring a new palace once he's profiteered off this war.</s> <\|message\|>Corporal Keller "Bits" Vannin Vannin and his three filled in as rear-guard as the rest of the rebels trickled into the shuttle. He took a position at the foot of the ramp, and squeezed off covering fire for the others as they ran in. Besk's speeder came up the ramp and that looked like it. "We're good!" he shouted. "Headcount!" Sekula shouted. The detail leaders checked over their men and reported back. They were short one light gunner. Someone went to check the head -- Vannin figured you never know with the new guys -- and Byron shouted something along the lines of 'Push off, we can't wait.' How typical. Just then a speeder came flying around a corner and Vannin raised his gun. "That's him!" he shouted. "Hold up!" In hindsight, it might just as easily have been a suicide bomber on one last desperate attempt to kill Slooga, but that thought never occurred to Vannin, who waved the speeder up the ramp frantically. Sure enough, it was one of their new troopers, with a big gun, dead body, and an attitude problem. Vannin was in love. "You got balls, lady," he said. "Fish over there thought you were attacking us. He almost killed you." Ortro Dob raised his fins in protest. He'd done no such thing. Nearby, Hayca rolled her eyes and muttered 'Pathetic.' --------------- "Someone ought to tell that space slug to stop crying, we still have his merchandise and it's loaded. But don't tell him we just found his contact's funds. He doesn't need to know that," Besk told the LT, with a wink, "Full report later." Byron sighed. "We just failed our mission because of him," he said. He made no mention of the unit's losses. "Controlling Slooga in the field is barely even possible, and his men are worse. We can't keep working together like this." He knew from training that he wasn't supposed to vent frustrations like this to enlisted, but the adrenaline was draining away quicker than his anger. Everything should have worked -- the rebels did their job, and they still failed against trash, all because of Slooga's miscalculation. Cost of doing business, probably -- but that wasn't a business that Lt. Byron wanted any part of anymore. "We're going to get back to basics," he decided aloud. "Get me a tally on the supplies and the wounded, see what we can do about those speeders..... We'll debrief on the Intruder." He didn't say it, but he knew already how the conversation with the captain would go. From now on, they were done playing dress-up for Hutts. It was time to point this firepower back where it belonged -- at the imps.</s> <\|message\|>Saleen Re'Revoure Saleen's attention turned over to Corporal Vannin in at the ramp. "After being almost stranded, I would only need a dose of friendly fire to complete my day." Saleen said with a sarcastic voice, turning her helmet to face Ortro. She had never been a fan of aliens, and the Mon Calamari were only too alien for her liking. The notion that he had almost fired at her did not help her opinion of his people any further. Perhaps fortunately for the sake of diplomacy, the actual expression she was currently giving Ortro was hidden under her helmet. "Sorry about the mess... I didn't have time to strap him in." She said as she turned to Vannin, motioning towards the Gran bounty hunter just as the alien slid off the back of the truck and slumped down onto the front of the burning cab which was currently being extinguished by three rebels with extinguishers. The rear of the truck, Saleen, and some of the walls in the shuttle had been covered with alien blood following the bounty hunter's splattering. "I forgot to strap him in." Moving her hands to the sides of her helmet to open the pressure and remove it, she shook her head and let her ponytail fall behind her neck. But as she moved her head, she suddenly noticed a familiar figure from the earlier battle. A twi'lek! " ... ! Wait a moment," Saleen said with a sidetracked voice to Vannin, as she turned to face Ja'vi in the shuttle. Marching up to the twi'lek with her helmet under her left arm, she stopped right behind Ja'vi. Waiting for twi'lek to turn around, Saleen raised a hand and slapped Ja'vi right in the cheek just as the twi'lek turned around, almost knocking her to the ground. "WHAT were you thinking leaving me behind?!" Saleen suddenly shouted out, whatever peaceful charade her face had ever hosted having long since been abated as she pointed accusingly down at the shorter twi'lek. "Your stupid tentacle head could have gotten me killed or captured!"</s> <\|message\|>Ja'vi Harkan Ja'vi - A Minor Altercation She stood silently to the side as the Rebel leaders began to take accountability, only to stand even further back once there was the sound of uproarious chaos behind them. Recklessly charging up the ramp in a hijacked Speeder was none other than the heavy gunner that had almost shot her! She remained nonplussed as the craft crashed into the hangar where they all stood, and stood even further back as the Rebels hurried in to douse the flames. Her further assistance wasn't needed, it seemed. All were accounted for, all were prepared to continue onward and care for the wounded and lost. Though the gruesome display of the dead and bloodied bounty hunter was at least slightly amusing. With the mission complete and gone as far as it could, she lightly plucked up her own helmet from the vehicle she had disembarked from and turned instead to head back towards her quarters to restart the meditation that had been interrupted. Her intention had been one that was peaceful and easygoing as usual. Yet the marching of heavily laden footsteps drawing closer forced her to turn about to see none other than the very same angry gunner that had crashed into the ship. Not only that, but her hand was drawn back in anger, fury and rage that she could sense and understand, but why? What purpose did it hold? It was a movement that she could easily avoid, but to what end would that meet? More likely than not, her avoidance would only cause such enraged fervor to increase in the face of dissatisfaction. More destruction would likely be wrought, and she refused to be the fault of it. So the Twi'lek accepted the strike. Closing her eyes as it drew nearer and sent her spinning into a nearby wall. Her world whirled about her as she regained her equilibrium, and slowly stood back up normally. Insults were slung, but she didn't respond to them. Bearing a sense of defiance, she looked eye to eye with the flamboyantly armored gunner for along moment as venomous words were slung towards her ears. In response, Ja'vi said nothing. Instead she only turned about on her heels while she wiped away a thin trickle of blood that crept from the corner of her lip. There was certainly pain, she accepted it, knowing all too well that her body's way of telling her that there was an injury. Yet in her mind it was not worth going to the medical ward over, as there were wounded pouring in there. A minor issue like hers was not one worth busying over. Instead, she silently into another room and resumed her meditation. This focus would bring her mind off the pain and agony, and instead upon the extent that she could grasp the force. It was very little, and she needed to truly be able to understand its depths before she ran into greater dangers. Darkness was out there, and she knew it all too well. Imperial or Rebellion, it mattered not.</s>	<\|message\|>Slooga Besadii Nem'ro Besk shrugged, "Yeah, well, after this cockup by Intel, I think we're done trying to establish contact with Slooga's old buddies. They're too likely to turn." He also knew, by dint of sleeping with an Intruder officer, not that it was precisely regs compliant, but also that the Lieutenant didn't necessarily know about that -- yet -- that the Intruder crew were actually in the Rebellion, much as they were former pirates and used to work for Slooga, the Empire had killed a couple of their crew, who were part of a family clan of sorts from their planet, Invikon, a shady Outer Rim shithole with strange clan practices that translated to a lot of the Intruder crew being relatives, though they still had a couple outsiders in their ranks much like the Liberators. Point was, they were only sort of Slooga's employees anymore, and the fiction was maintained only because Slooga didn't try to push it and because they figured taking Slooga in would piss off the Empire. There was a rumble under foot as the shuttle kicked in the thrusters and lifted off, and it was second nature for Besk to grab a handhold on the bulkhead and steady himself on his feet as the shuttle lifted. Thirty seconds of combat, then heavy lifting and running around, and they were drenched in sweat. But, they had a truck full of loot. The return to the Intruder was without much fanfare, because 1st Platoon hauled in its own, zipped up in the bags that were, perhaps morbidly so, stored on the transport for just an event. No one wanted to look at their dead friends, so they got them zipped in quickly after stripping useful equipment off them. They'd be properly handled at Vanguard, where there was a memorial of sorts for the dead followed by a general agreement to get good and plastered off whatever there was available for the purpose. In the meantime, the living, once they stacked the dead into their own small compartment, out of everyone's sightline, there was work to be done of another sort; between Sola, who seemed to be at times broodingly distant and then aggressively affectionate, and the duty that everyone either assigned to themselves or got assigned by an NCO, which in his case involved checking the weapons they acquired as well as repairing anything that could be repaired, and whatever else struck his fancy as the armory officer. When he slept, which was to say in the Gunnery Officer's bunkroom, HK-51 was set to guard the weapons locker, which he did, according to reports, disturbingly. "Report: Meatbags approached the weapons locker thirty seven times while I was on alert, and I warned each one to keep their distance." "You don't have to warn them unless they try to access it." "Query: How would you define 'access' master? I simply wish to warn all meatbags that attempts to access the weapons locker I am assigned to guard like a mere sentry droid will be disintegrated with great pleasure." The droid had picked a disintegrator rifle as its weapon of choice; it wasn't reassuring. "Simply stop them if they try to actually get into the locker by physically opening the door. Otherwise, you do not need to challenge everyone that passes by the Weapons Locker -- there's a head near it, that's why so many troopers pass, HK-51." "Statement: Of course, Master. While you are assigning more parameters to a task that mocks my advanced positronic brain, would there be any other indignities you would like to inflict upon me?" "Not at this time." "Statement: Very well master, I am forced by programming to obey your wishes, however much I feel that your kind ways are a tremendous mistake and would prefer to make an example of at least one meatbag that comes too close to the weapons locker. Perhaps I could activate my assassination protocols on the hutt? My calculations predict that elimination of that particularly loathsome, squishy meatbag would extend the ship's consumables store by an extra three months..." Out of the pile of bounty hunter weaponry, Besk picked a SoroSuub firelance blaster rifle, a bullpup weapon favored by bounty hunters that was well-represented among their opponents at Ganatoo, and started modifying it with accessories. When he modified one, then he started working on the others, adding mounts for optics and other useful items that the typical Rebel infantry, who favored accuracy in most things, favored on their blasters. It helped pass the time, along with the speeder truck -- that was being broken down by several people, the engine souped up and the thing stripped down to a bare chassis and then rebuilt with armor plating and two mounted repeating blasters -- one in the truck bed, the other in an open turret on the passenger side. Open-topped now, it allowed troopers to quickly mount and dismount, but could also function as a cargo vehicle or a way to get wounded to a shuttle fast. It also gave people something to do. Meanwhile, Vanguard liberty loomed, and Besk was half-waiting and half-dreading it; they'd get to blow off steam, but they had to say a final goodbye to friends and then take on a new batch of recruits. It got easier, but the unease in the soul never quite went away,</s>
<\|description\|>Slooga Besadii Nem'ro Species: Hutt Age: 452 Planet of Origin/Birth: Nal Hutta Force Sensitive Y/N: No; it's safe to say Slooga isn't very sensitive to much, least of all things that involve kindness, generosity or anything not directly related to preserving his own skin. Appearance:A hutt. Ho-ho-ho-ho. Slooga prefers wide brimmed hats and a cane, because he's an alien space pimp. Description:Prior to a bad deal with Imperial Forces, Slooga Besadii Nem'ro was a crime lord working out of Ord Vetasi, runing a salvage and repair business that was actually a sophisticated ship theft and sales ring, supplying pirates, planetary defense forces looking for a bargain, separatists and others ships. Unwittingly, he also supplied ships to the Rebel Alliance, which is why the Empire finally came for him. He boosted off with what was left of his organization and went into the privateering business for the Rebel Alliance. It turned out that quite a number of pirates and smugglers in his operations had Rebel Sympathies and now he is only nominally in command with underlings to do his will for him if his operations are consistent with helping the Rebellion. He detests getting stuck in this position of having to take a side, but is resolved to make the best lemonade he can out of the lemons. It goes without saying that his pirate crew are not entirely in love with Slooga, but they are using his contacts to help move ships and loot on the black market when the Rebel Alliance isn't buying. There is even less love lost between Slooga and the troopers of 1st Platoon, but they are often roped into his money-making schemes as a result of being stationed on the Intruder. Slooga is, in a sense, a necessary evil and handles the supply and logistic end of the ship's needs, though the troops and pirates alike watch to make sure he's not shafting them in the process. It's worth noting that his one servant is a SE4 servant droid known as SE4I5, or High-Five, who does the cooking for Slooga as well as the various tasks that a slave might do...if all of his hadn't run off when the Empire came along. This impoverishment embitters Slooga, and he dreams longingly of acquiring a new palace once he's profiteered off this war.</s> <\|message\|>Saleen Re'Revoure Having the shower area for herself while most of the rebels were busy assisting with the shuttle in the hangar was quite a relief. Stripping out of her tight jumpsuit, she'd swiftly move over to the nearest four shower heads, focusing them all on herself and turning them on. Having the warm water splash down on her from every direction was a wonderful sensation, especially when she did not have to share any of them with the rest of the crew. However, her sole occupation of the shower area would soon be intruded upon by a familiar twi'lek that just entered the shower area. Although Saleen pretended she did not notice her at first, she kept a constant eye on Ja'vi as the mute Twi'lek went over to find her own shower head. "Great, you just ruined my perfect moment!" "Hey, twi'lek!" Saleen would eventually shout across the shower room towards Ja'vi, while holding up a bottle. "Need some shampoo? I could barrow you mine if you wanted... " " ... " " ... ohh wait, I completely forgot, you don't even have hair in the first place. I don't know if I have a cure for tentacles." Saleen snickered from across the showers, though the twi'lek didn't seem to respond to her, let alone even notice her presence. It actually looked like Ja'vi was literally meditating in the showers, something that made Saleen raise a brow at the odd scene. "Weirdo.. " This did not make the human any less suspicious however. She had read enough imperial galactic news reports, and she knew that it was always the quiet guy who was responsible for any sudden massacres aboard vessels! As Ja'vi left the showers, Saleen also headed towards her own locker. Although she normally preferred to shower for up to half an hour at a time, right now, she was more curious about what the mute twi'lek was up to. Wrapping a towel around her torso and slinging her jumpsuit over her shoulder, she'd secretly sneak out of the showers after Ja'vi. Walking in a seemingly nonchalantly manner a couple of meters behind her as she stalked the twi'lek to her room, Saleen would approach the door to her private quarters. But as she was about to reach up to the panel besides the door, she suddenly paused. "Wait, what will I say if it turns out she isn't up to something?" Saleen pondered on the thought for a moment, eventually deciding that her excuse for entering the twi'lek's room would be that she was looking for the commander. It was a good enough explanation, at least in her mind! Without any further delay, she'd press the button to on the panel, causing the doors to Ja'vi's room to open. "Hey! Mutee! Do you know where I can find... " Saleen proclaimed her question out loudly as she marched into Ja'vi's room, before suddenly noticing the hovering objects just before they immediately dropped to the ground. " ... wait, what was that?"</s> <\|message\|>Ja'vi Harkan Ja'vi - Not-Quite-Pleasantries Do not be unsettled, maintain your focus. Slowly, the carefully precise movements of the variable parts and pieces that hovered around the Twi'lek began to snap back into place. Cautious, exact movements that required the entirety of her attention as it became constructed in the air in front of her. Once the last item had clicked into its proper position, the completed Training Saber twirled in the air in front of her as her hand brushed past it, causing it to turn slower as she inspected it. Other than the blasted lack of a crystal...she could likely get a fully functional true Lightsaber from the majority of the parts that remained, in combination with a few other pieces that she needed. Even as a child she had done her best to keep it in pristine condition. A few things were needed surely, but the most critical part of a Saber's core was what she truly lacked. She needed to find a way to get a new proper crystal soon, desperately in fact. Yet so focused as she on her task that she didn't notice that there was someone at her door before it was far too late. Just as Saleen intruded upon her private quarters, the fully constructed Training Saber fell back to the earth and Ja'vi deftly snatched it out of midair. Tucking it inside the loose-fitting clothes she wore when not armored up like normal, she looked up to see who her intruder was from where she knelt. Not good...of all the people! Why this one!? Must it always be the loud ones?! Swiftly, Ja'vi's hand shot out and snatched the heavy gunner's fingertips to drag her into the room quickly and force the door to snap shut. There, she fluidly rose to a stand, but there were no other movements of aggression made by the Force Sensitive. Instead the Twi'lek stood rather gravely still, staring intensely at the woman. What was she supposed to do? Lashing out and striking would create a further distraction that she needn't have. Going unnoticed would have been preferable, but now this accursed mercenary had gone and made that all but impossible! To make matters worse, this woman answered only to the principles of money and greed more likely than not! At least the rebels might have been more trustworthy with their idealism, but no! She had to find her instead! Her hands clenched into fists, and her jaw became set. There was only the truth, that was all she could do here. How this woman reacted would dictate how she further handled the situation for now. "I-I...I am a former Youngling Jedi." Ja'vi admitted quietly in the isolation of their room. Her voice, melancholic but beautiful all the same, continued to talk in a hushed tone. "I have no Master who teaches me, the Knight who was supposed to be such was killed during the Purge. So I am learning as best I can on my own in the ways of the Force. I could not do it under the watchful paranoia of the Empire, so I am doing what I can beneath the not-so-watchful eyes of the Rebellion." Looking up to Saleen, the Twi'lek did her best to appeal to the woman. "Please, you cannot tell a soul! There are those who despise my kind, I cannot be found nor seen for what I truly am!"</s> <\|message\|>Saleen Re'Revoure "A jedi?" Saleen said as she cocked her head slightly to the side, taking a moment to simply stare at the twi'lek. Although Ja'vi had originally met her with a sudden and harsh glare that was most unusual for the normally stoic alien, she now looked to be literally pleading with her eyes. Her eyes had grown almost to resemble that of puppy eyes, and Saleen felt that she was dangerously close to almost feeling genuine sympathy for the twi'lek! "Please, you cannot tell a soul!" Saleen gazed back at Ja'vi, whilst moving a hand up to rub her jaw as she contemplated the matter. "Well, at least I finally got her to talk!" She was not unfamiliar with the concept of jedi. Indeed, she had seen them in countless movies and video games back on her time during Coruscant, and even seen some on the street. That was at least until the new government had stepped in, and orchestrated something not far off from a holocaust against their order. She had never actually met a jedi face to face. The idea that she was now talking to one was both cool, and at the same time, a little worrisome! Jedi were known for their dangerous lightsabers capable of slicing through any material, as well as wicked mind powers with which they could wreathe unfathomable destruction. "Maaaaaybe I shouldn't be standing so close to this one! I mean, if she should turn hostile... !" "I am going to assume that the thing you're trying to hide from me was a lightsaber, wasn't it?" Saleen asked with a slight smirk on her face as she gently nodded towards the twi'lek's clothes where she had last seen the cylindrical device. Tossing the door behind her a quick glance to see if it was shut, Saleen would look back at the twi'lek with a small smile. "Can I see it?"</s>	<\|message\|>Slooga Besadii Nem'ro Captain (Navy) Probos Hud was the new G-3 for Vanguard, replacing his rather more complacent predecessor after the latter's relief, and the sectors it operated out of, which was roughly the region between Ziost and Jabiim, with a broad mandate to disrupt whatever he could with the limited forces available to his command. The most important element of that mandate was to do whatever it took to prevent Mon Calamari, the planet that provided the Alliance's best shipyards, from direct attack or at least to make the theoretical supply lines for such an attack look too daunting to undertake. So he wasn't impressed when a Captain (Army) Ornestes of Alliance Intelligence was briefing him on a botched mission involving one of his ships having to cut and run real fast from a Victory-class star destroyer that lay in waiting -- his forces, to the mind of the Duros, were supposed to be the ones with the element of surprise. "Captain, I will make this clear," Hud told him in the straightforward way the Duros tended to have, the confidence of being one of the first starfaring races, "My predecessor was slack and sat on his ass and was happy to detach forces to your operations. I am not. I need every swinging tentacle in my command to carry out -my- operations. Also, that Ganatoo station mission was a wash on all fronts -- it was only because one Lieutenant Byron sent out a separate team to tap the traffic control at the same time that they were running this funny Hutt deal, acting like a palace guard for a washed-up crime lord, that my forces managed to discover the threat and got out." "Be that as it may," Ornestes started. "Please sit, Captain," Hud ordered/requested, "And allow me to explain the facts of life." Ornestes, who was something like three grades beneath a Navy captain, did so. It was hard to read Duros expressions, at least for a human, because they were blue-faced, golden-eyed and had no noses. It took a person experienced with their expressions to really read them. All the same, they were not some provincial species -- the Duros were far-flung, with colonies all over the galaxy, and their homeworld in the core. They often acted like they invented the hyperdrive, and certainly loved to make use of it. "All Intelligence requests for my forces will be routed through me. The plans will be submitted to me. They will be vetted by myself and my staff before the forces you require are given their orders. I agree that uploading virii into the Imperial traffic control computers is a useful mission and will put my chop on it when I see an appropriate plan. By 'appropriate' I mean any plan that does not involve that Hutt." "But sir, Slooga..." "Is washed up and has a price on his head big enough for his former contacts to turn on him. He's not really a powerful Hutt Lord anymore. I am reliably informed that his ship is in the alliance with or without him. For the sake of appearances, we'll keep Slooga because he might be useful in the future, but have no illusions, Captain, we are not here to facilitate his grandiose plans of a return to glory. We're here to fight the Empire." "Yes sir," Ornestes said, somewhat stiffly, "I understand." "Good, now I'd like to turn your attention," he hit a button and the room darkened and a holodisplay came up, "to this; Operation Bantha Poacher." The Intruder, a squadron of Y-Wings, Buccaneer squadron, and, of course, 1st Platoon in the vanguard...</s>
<\|description\|>Tadia Omi-Ren "Doc" "What've we got this time?" Species: Human, Corellian Age: 28 Planet of Origin/Birth: Corellia Force Sensitive Y/N: Unknown, some claim she is however she's never played stock to such rumours. Skills/Abilities:- Basic Blaster Training - Charismatic - Tactical Thinker (Sabaac Player) - Medical training Equipment:- A280 Blaster Rifle - 1x DC17 blaster pistol, set to stun - 1x MD Droid (Stays aboard the Intruder) - Field medic kit - Psychological Profile:Tadia has a simple past, a compassionate and caring soul who has the problem of having seen conflict war and death. Which has closed her off somewhat from other people, when she doesn't notice people are watching she will often zone out looking into the distance reminicing however when it comes to the grind and when she is needed she is fully focused at getting the job done. It isn't known the exact moment she officially joined the rebellion however she's been with the Liberators since they left Uslam but few alive know some of the horrors she saw during the evacuation. History: She was always compassionate and caring, having a drive to help people. After she left secondary she entered the medical traid heading to university to become a Doctor. Specialising in surgery and life saving techniques she also self studied minor practices so that she could perform more all around duties as necessary. She passed with her doctorate, nothing special however she got her honours and her full doctorate. Which is where things began to change. She took a job on the mining world of Uslam, as a general practitioner. It was here that she saw the squalor and the poor living conditions the miners lived in. When push came to shove and conflict arose she did what she could to help the rebels. Not reporting blaster wounds and healing them up, and when it turned out into an all out war she dropped the front and moved herself from rebel cell to rebel cell helping out wherever necessary. Then the Imperials cracked down on the planet. She was in one of the last evacuation ships, and the only medic on it with a majority of wounded. It's unclear what exactly happened to the ship however when it finally made it to the rendevouz not even the recovery crew will mention what they saw aboard the ship. Tadia herself was never quite the same, still cocky and charismatic but something about her smile never quite reached her eyes and she seemed more distant. The rookies never noticing but the veterans did. Yes, and:She's less caring than many others about the Intruders pirate past but isn't really close with anyone from the crew. She does feel however that she is close friends with Serossa, Beskad and Kellar being older members of the liberators and almost sees Uslam and it's people her true family. She has also been one of the few liberators to be kind to Thanner Antares as far as she sees it it isn't his past that defines him, but the path he is on now that does.</s> <\|message\|>Thanner Antares Thanner stood among the regiment's new recruits, and could not help but turn up his nose at the stench of cheap liquor in the air. He knew that the regiment's soldiers considered themselves to be separate from the pirate crew aboard the Intruder, but he found it difficult to make that distinction himself. As he glanced across the room at the veterans of the unit, the likely source of the foul odor, he noticed one of the soldiers pointing a finger at him and muttering about. Thanner smirked and turned away, undoubtedly projecting a foulness of his own. It was the stench of arrogance. Of elitism. A stench not so easily washed away. In his short time with the Rebellion Thanner had become privy to such accusatory gestures and mutterings, and he had become exceedingly adept at shrugging them off. Perhaps too adept. Thanner refocused his attention as the new Lieutenant spoke. "My name is Lieutenant Durod Byron. I understand you folks have been holding your own out here for some time, and Fleet Command is real happy about the way you boy... you folks do work." "Not a great start," Thanner thought to himself, glancing around again at the rugged folks in his midst. "Now we're here to fill in some gaps, and help you keep doing what you do best. I know this can be a little awkward, and hopefully we'll get used to each other pretty quick, but in the meantime I just want you all to know that I'm not here to change the way you fellas do business. I'm gonna do my best to stay out of your hair, and together we'll get the JOB done, your way. So. Take a few minutes and get acquainted. The new guys brought a little extra gear, feel free to help them square it away, and we'll meet up in the briefing room in two hours. Got a hot new target in mind, should be a good hit." To say that things would be a little awkward was surely an understatement, but Thanner was confident that he would soon be able to smooth things over. He had been in tough spots before, but he had always been able to talk his way out of a situation. In truth, his tongue had saved him more times than he could count, and it was what allowed him to excel as an agent of the Empire. Thanner had much less confidence however, in the Lieutenant's ability to lead. Thanner knew that, above all, these gruff military-types responded to authority and detested weakness. After what these men had been through, they had no place for weakness. Lieutenant Byron possessed authority on paper, but he oozed weakness through every orifice, and Thanner knew that the veterans would detect this as surely as he detected their disgusting aroma. He wondered how long the Lieutenant could survive in this environment. After the Lieutenant finished his address, Thanner made his way across the hangar, deliberately walking past the same soldier that had been unsubtlety gesturing in his direction previously. "Guess he doesn't want us punching the new guys just yet, huh," he heard the soldier say. "I should certainly hope not," Thanner replied casually, "For your sake." Turning his back to the soldier, Thanner carried on. He saw the Lieutenant whispering something to a woman before exiting the hangar, and he managed to catch the woman's eye with his own piercing gaze. He strode over to the woman and extended his hand, ensuring that the display was seen by the soldier he had mocked. "Sergeant Sekula I presume? My name is Antares...Thanner Antares."</s> <\|message\|>Tadia Omi-Ren "Doc" Tadia sighed at the response of the droid. Saying she was threatening, out of everyone in the room she was by far the least likely to do anything harmful towards him than any of the other veterans. She rolled her eyes as she sent it away. "You may regret doing that later, Beskad won't be happy with a puppy dog following him around calling him master." She paused for a second. "Or he might, however in the case that he doesn't your secrets safe with me." She briefly returned the salute, feeling stupid as she did so. "Also relax, I'm just a lance corporal-" She offered her hand. "Tadia, though most call me Doc. As you can tell I'm the Doctor slash medic. Well I do a lot of medic work but I got my doctorate and one of the few of us who has so... yeah just stick to Doc or Tadia." She took out her datapad and brought up an image of a IM-6 medical droid. "I'm having some problems with the droid in the med-bay. His repulsors are shot, as is his diagnostic equipment so I'm needing to tell him what needs to be done and oversee everything he does to make sure that he doesn't do more harm than good. It's becoming a bit of an inconvienance." She shrugged as she clipped her datapad back to her waist. "Can you fix it?"</s> <\|message\|>Toland Vas Toland gratefully took Tadia's hand and shook. "Well first, sorry to bring this up but most IM-6 models were manufactured with feminine programming," Toland replied, "but yeah, this is like a half an hour fix tops. IM-6s may of been top class back in their day, but Cybot Galactica shit the bed manufacturing those girls for longvity. Fixing the repulsors will just take a little calibrating. She will probably have trouble the first few days, but after a week she will be zooming around like she found a chem stash." Toland stopped for a second and scratched his chin. "Her equipment might need some tinkering. It's a problem I'd have too look at first hand. What kind of equipment is she packing? I'm only coming up with blanks right now." Toland looked behind her for a second, noticing that the veterans had turned their interest from Betuu to him. "So," he brought up abruptly, "how long do you think I have to live out here?"</s> <\|message\|>Corporal Jenk Beskad "Hopefully, long enough," he replied to Toland's survival question "I'm Corporal Beskad, the platoon armorer. All you new arrivals need to see me so we can do a weapons function check," he said casually, "so we can make sure nothing goes 'click' when we need it to go 'pow.'" There was a second reason he wanted to check people's weapons out, and that was to casually assess their skills at marksmanship. As the Alliance had diverse sources of training, it was important to find out what the new guys knew and what they didn't, and Besk felt that a 'function check' was a nicer way of doing that than telling them outright that they were going to have to qualify for marksmanship under his eye. Also, it was real -- the Alliance had multiple sources of blasters, and that meant having to inspect the weapons. "Also, I notice that both the droids are combat models, so I'd like to see if we can start putting them on sentry duty over the weapons locker. The crew of the Intruder," and he said this without batting an eyelash even though he was shagging the gunnery officer and every one of the veterans knew it, "are not what we'd call entirely trustworthy and we have a Hutt on board. Security for our weaponry and explosives is a must." It meant they could free up more duty time by putting a droid on it for other jobs, so Besk was jumping right on that opportunity. But as he spoke of 'untrustworthy' his eyes tracked Thanner; he wasn't going to say it where the Lieutenant could hear it, but there was a reason he wanted a droid on weapons locker detail -- they had an Imperial agent on board and he didn't like that any more than his comrades. He actually felt a little naked without firepower strapped to his hip in the form of a pistol or something similar.</s> <\|message\|>Toland Vas "Yes sir," Toland replied. "No need to worry about Betuu here. His security subroutines are some of the best the old Seps could offer. Also, he is the type of guy to go pow-pow, or pow-pow-pow, sir." Toland looked back to the HK-51 unit, who was still probably scanning the room to fulfill his new objective. "Honesty sir, you can keep the brown one. Very clingy bot, but from what info I have it seems to be some kind of old assassin protocol droid. Favorited thousands of years ago. He might need a little weapons calibration, but he should be ship-shape for use. Nobody is getting at your guns with him around." Betuu butted into the conversation, spamming beeps and boops like there was no tomorrow. "What have I told you about not insulting people in Droid Speak," Toland replied. "'It is not cool,'" the droid replied in basic.</s> <\|message\|>Slooga Besadii Nem'ro "No need to sir me, I work for my living. Just do me a favor and make sure the droids get over to the armory and do some weapons calibration tests to make sure their blasters are functioning properly, and bring your personal weaponry along as well. I want to shake everyone's equipment down before the next drop, whatever it is. Then we can talk about putting the droids on sentry duty. I like the idea of having droids that shoot to kill on the locker, given our situation in here." He meant Thanner as much as Slooga or the pirates; the Hutt was no doubt salivating, ugly mental image, at the idea of some sort of Imperial Intelligence agent in the ship. Besk wasn't going to take a chance with those two on board. Heck, Slooga had a price on his head from the Empire too, and hopefully the Sarge was canny enough to remind the old slug of that. It frustrated Besk a bit that they had no idea what the next op was, though they'd know in an hour, which was enough time to wash up a bit more and try to get the pounding out from behind his eyes. The Lieutenant could have given them a hint of what they were doing, but Besk took it all in stride -- for the most part, they were a pirate ship's unusually disciplined boarding force. The Intruder's crew were old hands at raiding commerce and the Liberators had experienced guerrilas and miners in their ranks that knew how to fight in tight quarters. The truth was, the training on Uslam for conversion from guerrilla to line infantry was tough, but it made them more versatile. They just hadn't been called on those skills yet in any substantial way. The Rebellion just wasn't fighting open pitched battles with an Empire that could overwhelm them at any given point. The strategy was to hit fast and make them constantly react. But when the Empire showed up in force, the Alliance went to ground and just gathered the intel on the movements. Wash, rinse, repeat.</s>	<\|message\|>Tadia Omi-Ren "Doc" "I should point out that she is a he. Voice and programming." She cast her arms around indicating at the group. "This unit doesn't fit into any standardisation, nor does it equipment." Beskad walked over basically confirming her previous statement. "Besk, meet my new buddy. New Buddy meet Besk." She slapped him on the arm, somewhat playfully. "He's always so serious, forgets that not everything is about fighting and bloodshed." Her face adpted a wishful look. "When what we're fighting for is going to be so much more..." She laughed. "Anyway if you drop by the medbay at some point I am usually there, I tend to sleep on a spare bed rather than in my quarters. It's just down the hall, can't miss it. Just follow the screams of pain, the crying and the smell of blood and filth." She gave him a smirk. "Also don't worry about the Vets, they're as close as family-" she turned to Beskad "Aren't you Uncle Besky?" She laughed. "Anyway they've been through a lot together, and the best way to deal with that is making light off it. If you stick around, mingle. Prove your worth you'll be part of the family in no time and if it comes to it there's always something you can do around here." She turned and walked away, turning again to face him as she walked backwards, extending her arms shouting slightly. "And welcome aboard the Intruder, finest ship in the Navy!" There were a couple of laughs at that as she walked away. She stopped beside the Sarge. "How's the latest scar looking?"</s>
<\|description\|>Tadia Omi-Ren "Doc" "What've we got this time?" Species: Human, Corellian Age: 28 Planet of Origin/Birth: Corellia Force Sensitive Y/N: Unknown, some claim she is however she's never played stock to such rumours. Skills/Abilities:- Basic Blaster Training - Charismatic - Tactical Thinker (Sabaac Player) - Medical training Equipment:- A280 Blaster Rifle - 1x DC17 blaster pistol, set to stun - 1x MD Droid (Stays aboard the Intruder) - Field medic kit - Psychological Profile:Tadia has a simple past, a compassionate and caring soul who has the problem of having seen conflict war and death. Which has closed her off somewhat from other people, when she doesn't notice people are watching she will often zone out looking into the distance reminicing however when it comes to the grind and when she is needed she is fully focused at getting the job done. It isn't known the exact moment she officially joined the rebellion however she's been with the Liberators since they left Uslam but few alive know some of the horrors she saw during the evacuation. History: She was always compassionate and caring, having a drive to help people. After she left secondary she entered the medical traid heading to university to become a Doctor. Specialising in surgery and life saving techniques she also self studied minor practices so that she could perform more all around duties as necessary. She passed with her doctorate, nothing special however she got her honours and her full doctorate. Which is where things began to change. She took a job on the mining world of Uslam, as a general practitioner. It was here that she saw the squalor and the poor living conditions the miners lived in. When push came to shove and conflict arose she did what she could to help the rebels. Not reporting blaster wounds and healing them up, and when it turned out into an all out war she dropped the front and moved herself from rebel cell to rebel cell helping out wherever necessary. Then the Imperials cracked down on the planet. She was in one of the last evacuation ships, and the only medic on it with a majority of wounded. It's unclear what exactly happened to the ship however when it finally made it to the rendevouz not even the recovery crew will mention what they saw aboard the ship. Tadia herself was never quite the same, still cocky and charismatic but something about her smile never quite reached her eyes and she seemed more distant. The rookies never noticing but the veterans did. Yes, and:She's less caring than many others about the Intruders pirate past but isn't really close with anyone from the crew. She does feel however that she is close friends with Serossa, Beskad and Kellar being older members of the liberators and almost sees Uslam and it's people her true family. She has also been one of the few liberators to be kind to Thanner Antares as far as she sees it it isn't his past that defines him, but the path he is on now that does.</s> <\|message\|>Sergeant Serossa Sekula Serossa Sekula set her eyes on the Replacement that approached her, and offered his hand. He had her attention. She listened to his introduction...and then she turned her attention away from him, to the entire room. Without skipping a beat Sekula spoke up with a loud bark that emphasised the typically understated husky nature in the NCO's voice. "LIBERATORS; Corporals conduct a muster, and get me a list of everyone." If she had to go chase some Replacement out of a rack, now was the time. Or, rather, if she had to send a Corporal to go chase some Replacement out of a rack. Only then did her head turn back to the Replacement in front of her, and the hint of a smile come to her lips. A hint of a tease. "No, I'm the other six foot blonde that tells all of you what to do." Only then did she take his hand with her right hand and offer a quick shake, a thin line of scarred bright red flesh cutting across just above every knuckle on her hand but her thumb. "How can I help you?"</s> <\|message\|>Thanner Antares "Sergeant Sekula I presume? My name is Antares...Thanner Antares." Thanner extended his hand, as the Sergeant wheeled around to address the room. He couldn't help but laugh, as he has just employed the same social tactic against the gesturing soldier only moments earlier. It was typical posturing. Sekula turned to face him once more, this time acknowledging the agent's offer and shaking his hand, albeit briefly. "How can I help you?" asked the Sergeant. He heard the question clearly, but deliberately paused for a moment as he took notice of the scar on Sekula's hand. He knew he would be able to use it to his advantage, at the proper moment. "I'm not sure you can help me Sergeant," said Thanner, choosing each word very carefully, "A former Imperial in the midst of this rabble, whatever is a man to do." The skeptical undertone in Thanner's statement was quite deliberate. In truth, he was confident in Sekula's ability as a leader, which was far more than he could say for Lieutenant Byron, and he was intent on winning the Sergeant over as an ally by challenging her in this way. She was a woman that had thrived in a man's world, a feat that required true strength of character. He admired her resolve greatly and knew she would be a valuable asset to him during his time in the regiment. Thanner took Sekula's injured hand gently, running his thumb across her scarred knuckles in a a shrewd and calculated way, flashing a smile as he did so. "I'm sure there must be a story to go along with it?" Thanner said quietly, "You certainly seem like a woman with a few tales to tell."</s> <\|message\|>Specialist Hayca Carid Hayca smirked at Keller. "He said that we were going to keep doing stuff our way, didnt he?" She chuckled as she looked over Keller's picks and nodded. "Seems like a fair bet to me. But remember, no cheating. If one of our picks gets 'accidentily' blown into space by a friendly thermal detonator then it doesnt count, alright?" The Imperial Keller placed his bet on thought that it was a good idea to antagonise him by responding with a not so subtle threat. He then walked off to Sekula. Hayca placed a hand on Keller's shoulder and her smile disappeared. "Although I guess we could make an exception for once." Right at that moment the SBD which had been standing there for a while started moving to the shooting range and guess who stood in it's way. The droid forced its way past both Keller and Hayca. "Aargh! Watch where you're going you useless bucket of bolts!" Who ever programmed that droid should have maybe programmed some manners into that thing. But, atleast it got her mind of the Imperial. She looked over at Keller. "How about we observe some of the rookies at the firing range? Might be able to annoy little old Besky abit aswell, you think he has finally been able to requisition that Z-6 I've been begging for?" She said with a grin. She didnt wait for his reply as she was already walking towards the firing range. On her way out she passed the sarge, to whom she gave a nod, and the Imperial. She was very tempted to give him a shove but decided not to, since he was talking to the sarge. Once she got the the firing range the SBD was already tearing through the targets. She walked up to Beskad and interupted what he was doing by ruffeling his hair. "Hey Besk, what are you doing? Something to do with tech or explosives... or both?"</s> <\|message\|>Betuu Essbede "Roger roger," Betuu replied to the Corperal as he cocked his arm back inwords. "I will retrieve Priavte Vas' equipment for inspection. Do you require his presence?" Before the battle droid could get a response, one of the verterans stumbled into the armory with alchohl still tainting his breath. "Hey!," the soldier shouted, "there's that stupid fucking droid that pushed me! Stupid Seperatist shit pushed me!" The veteran looked over to the captain and pointed at Betuu. "Corperal! That fucking droid pushed me! Why are we letting goddamn death bots push people!" Betuu just stood quietly, waiting for his inquiry to be satisfied. --------- Toland wasn't far behind Tadia as he noticed the Sarge and another recruit like himself. He had heard small rumors surrounding the guy, how he was a former Imerial and heels bring down Uslam. Toland didn't have any love for Uslam personally, but could understand the outrage. "Hey," Toland greeted as he stepped up to Tadia. "You want to show me your droid? Betuu probably has my gear by now and has all of that settled. Better for me to do something useful then show off my nonexistent marksman skills."</s> <\|message\|>Tadia Omi-Ren "Doc" Tadia shrugged as the Imperial came over - small ship, big mouths - and began speaking to the Sgt, before rubbing her scars. "You better have clean hands, if that gets infected it's on you. Also if your fingers get broken, your fault too." With that Toland came over and spoke to her about the droid. She just sighed. "You know, you're going to need to gather some form of marksmanship skills sooner or later. Even I can shoot a gun, and hit something." A couple of the veterans stopped on the way passed giving her looks. "I can hit stuff most of that time." They continued giving the look. "Do you want medical treatment in the future?" With that they walked off. She turned her attention back to Toland. "What did I tell you? One big happy family. Full of some absolute-" The new Lieutenant walked past "-amazing people." She winked at Toland. "Come with me I'll show you Iggy. Don't ask me how he got the name I got him with it, I just kinda rolled with it." She turned signalling down the hall in a Move out! gesture before walking out of the hanger. The ship was in... various states of disrepair. A couple of the panels were original though a large portion of them seemed to have been replaced to either take the place of damaged ones or to fit in some form of upgrade to the ship. Even in her pirate days a lot of work had been done to the ship, so they were told. She walked into the med-bay, like all med-bays it was largely white and sterile with a couple of stains here and there. Four beds lay side by side, two of them occupied and there was space for a bacta tank at either end of the room as well as what would be presumed as a door into surgery. Plants littered most of the free spaces in order to try and create a nice smell, however you could still smell the oil and hydrulic smell that inhabited most of the ship. As they entered a small droid tried to hover off one of the beds, falling ot the floor and almost scraping along the floor in their general direction. "Toland, meet Iggy. He's like my pet, but more useless." She bent down as if speaking to a small animal, changing her tone of voice. "Isn't that right Iggy?""Affirmative." She stood up. "Told you."</s> <\|message\|>Toland Vas "Hi Iggy," Toland began, "your boss here told me that you haven't been doing well lately. I'm here to help. You can call me a doctor of sorts. A droid doctor! Top ten in my class in The Grand Skakoan Insitute of Droid Technologies." It was obvious that the issue here wasn't just some bad Cybot Galacitic longevity issues. Well, it was a part of the problem. No something else was keeping the little droid down. Toland turned to Tadia, his mind racing at different possibilities. The first thing that came to mind was Iggy's modifications. A small model droid like a IM-6 would have issues hovering after a while with non-factory standard mods. "Ok so I have some ideas brewing," he told her. "Do you have spare small power cells laying around?"</s> <\|message\|>Tadia Omi-Ren "Doc" Tadia burst out laughing, before slapping her side. Though she soon stopped. "Wait you're serious?" She put on a consoling face and walked over, putting her hand on Tolands shoulder. "Toland, this is the Rebel Alliance. We don't have spare anythings." She took a moment to look around. She ended up walking over to one of the older model MD droids sitting in the corner, turned it around and puilled the fusion battery out of it before tossing it over. "Use this, this MD droid has had it. In fact if you get Iggy working you can have it as fair payment for your time. Whether for spare parts or if you want to fix it up. Your call." She looked at Iggy. "I don't even understand why this is happening, the only thing that isn't box standard as far as I know is his masculine programming. No extra drug compartments or anything like that. Though I wouldn't put anything past happening on this ship."</s> <\|message\|>Toland Vas "I was just going to ask if you were up for some drink later on after this," Toland replied with a smile as he looked onto the MD droid. The old model had definitely seen hard days, either through hours of long surgery or medicating the unsavory crew of the Intruder. "If you want I can still take that old guy off your hands. Turn him into something useful like an clock or something." Toland took the power cell and hooked it up directly to Iggy's repulsorlift, overclocking it by about one-hundred and fifty percent. Along with that, Toland redirected all of the IM-6's base power cells directly to all other systems and equipment. If his hunch was right, little Iggy would be zipping and zooming around like an X-Wing pilot on the roughest drugs in the galaxy. "Ok Iggy, I want you to do five laps around the med-bay. I want you to stay low in case there something else is going on and you lose control. After the second lap, I want you to go as high as you can and show us what you are made of."</s>	<\|message\|>Tadia Omi-Ren "Doc" Tadia laughed again. "Alcohol on an Ex-Pirate ship? Well. That's just a recipe for disaster. Alcohol only on shore leave, except the stuff I have in here for cleaning wounds." She pointed to a locked cabinet. "And even then I need to keep an eye on it that it doesn't go missing." She sighed as the droid went around the room, banging into things as he did so, after a couple of attempts at circumventing a bed he rocketed up into the air hitting the ceiling before falling back down, flat on his back. "I did tell you he couldn't see, right?" She winced as he sparked slightly, he was pretty much toast. "I think Iggy might be a longer term project than you had hoped he would be and what I would hope he would be." She eyed around the room, as if saying something that was secret and she shouldn't say. "Between you and me, I think he's the only other doctor other than me." Then she stopped. "Well, that's actually true. Well, he's not a Doctor but he has the same training. I mean there are plenty of medics around." She grabbed her jacket in a show of pride. "But I'm a doctor, got my diploma somewhere... though I can't remember where I put it. The Hutt probably sold it for alcohol or something, I don't know." Her chrono beeped. "Though the mystery of the missing Doctorate will have to wait for another time, briefing time."</s>
<\|description\|>Tadia Omi-Ren "Doc" "What've we got this time?" Species: Human, Corellian Age: 28 Planet of Origin/Birth: Corellia Force Sensitive Y/N: Unknown, some claim she is however she's never played stock to such rumours. Skills/Abilities:- Basic Blaster Training - Charismatic - Tactical Thinker (Sabaac Player) - Medical training Equipment:- A280 Blaster Rifle - 1x DC17 blaster pistol, set to stun - 1x MD Droid (Stays aboard the Intruder) - Field medic kit - Psychological Profile:Tadia has a simple past, a compassionate and caring soul who has the problem of having seen conflict war and death. Which has closed her off somewhat from other people, when she doesn't notice people are watching she will often zone out looking into the distance reminicing however when it comes to the grind and when she is needed she is fully focused at getting the job done. It isn't known the exact moment she officially joined the rebellion however she's been with the Liberators since they left Uslam but few alive know some of the horrors she saw during the evacuation. History: She was always compassionate and caring, having a drive to help people. After she left secondary she entered the medical traid heading to university to become a Doctor. Specialising in surgery and life saving techniques she also self studied minor practices so that she could perform more all around duties as necessary. She passed with her doctorate, nothing special however she got her honours and her full doctorate. Which is where things began to change. She took a job on the mining world of Uslam, as a general practitioner. It was here that she saw the squalor and the poor living conditions the miners lived in. When push came to shove and conflict arose she did what she could to help the rebels. Not reporting blaster wounds and healing them up, and when it turned out into an all out war she dropped the front and moved herself from rebel cell to rebel cell helping out wherever necessary. Then the Imperials cracked down on the planet. She was in one of the last evacuation ships, and the only medic on it with a majority of wounded. It's unclear what exactly happened to the ship however when it finally made it to the rendevouz not even the recovery crew will mention what they saw aboard the ship. Tadia herself was never quite the same, still cocky and charismatic but something about her smile never quite reached her eyes and she seemed more distant. The rookies never noticing but the veterans did. Yes, and:She's less caring than many others about the Intruders pirate past but isn't really close with anyone from the crew. She does feel however that she is close friends with Serossa, Beskad and Kellar being older members of the liberators and almost sees Uslam and it's people her true family. She has also been one of the few liberators to be kind to Thanner Antares as far as she sees it it isn't his past that defines him, but the path he is on now that does.</s> <\|message\|>Lieutenant Durod Byron Escort Detail Slooga moved slow enough, but the Liberators managed to lag behind. Thanks to Lt. Byron's diplomatic graces, the soldiers were volunteered to do most of the heavy lifting for the exchange, while the crooks (and a few of the lighter Liberators) fanned out in a loose echelon formation. All told they had thirty sets of eyes, all panning the scenery of Ganatoo Spaceport and assessing the crowds. It was easy to forget, while in deep space, that plenty of people in the galaxy weren't smugglers, or stormtroopers, or rebels, or whatever else -- plenty of people were simply living out their lives as normally as could be managed in a time like this. Merchants, small game hunters, chefs, stick jockeys. The spaceport attracted all types. All types seemed eager to give the Hutt a wide berth. The team encountered no resistance as they made their way, slowly, to the illicit rendezvous. The exchange was to take place in an open square, isolated from the main drags by a few blocks and secure enough from any prying eyes. There were alleys and high windows to contend with, but with all the manpower and kit they'd brought, it seemed like nothing they couldn't handle. A pair of runners -- shady as hell, Keller thought -- had run ahead to check out the site, and they were presently coming back into view. Vannin hummed a tune that could've passed for Gammorean folk music and pushed a heavily-laden sled. The pirates were nervous talking about business around the new LT, but he'd managed to gather that the trade involved weapons and scrap from the last weapon, and they were getting some medical gear of some sort (which Tadia, much to Byron's chagrin, had insisted on inspecting personally). The new faces in the detail were, to their credit, pushing heavy sleds up a hill like real-live Liberators. A noble calling. The HIGHEST calling. True Heroes of the Republic, to the last, astride their mighty loads. He chuckled. Well, that was the job, no helping it. They brought the goods into the square and caught their breath. On the opposite end stood the requisite amount of scum and villainy, there to watch over the exchange and protect their own crime lord. One had to wonder how many of those could exist in the galaxy -- enough, certainly. Tensions seemed low and the business people set about their business while the grunts thumbed at their blasters and wondered about the slicing progress. After a while -- the deal still progressing according to the brief -- a few more goons began to trickle in behind Slooga's rival. One at a time, at first, and spaced out enough so as not to arouse suspicions. But there were definitely more of them. A dozen had turned into fifteen, and another walking in with a carbine. Keller kept humming and casually checked the alley by which they'd come in. Someone was turning back passers-by a few blocks down -- and not one of their own people. Motherfucker, he thought out loud. He made his way to the LT, casually as possible. "I'm getting a real bad vibe," he muttered, omitting the 'sir' on account of their cover. "Might be nothing -- might be trouble." He gave a quick recap of the situation. "I see them," Byron replied, with a tone that suggested he'd caught the same feeling as well. "Slooga's guys aren't picking up on it, and I don't know how they'll react, so keep it quiet for now. But pass the word to the Liberators. If something goes down, we can't lose the Hutt." Keller nodded and shuffled off to whisper in someone's ear. Meanwhile, Byron keyed his communicator. "How's the weather?" he asked. "Looks like we might have to take the nerf outside pretty quick."</s> <\|message\|>Slooga Besadii Nem'ro Traffic control was a small room with a large mainframe and a few access terminals, designed to control an entire plannet's ship traffic grid and provide very precise model predictions as well as interact with ships' nav computers and autopilots to provide the necessary data to get them down safely, or at least to provide pilots the guidance. Luckily, the company that provided it also provided the code to Rebel programmers, who swiftly developed very efficient viruses to penetrate the system and bug it. The PDA being used for the virus insertion by Toland went off with a warning, intended to go off if a security station arose. Handed the pad, Serossa's eyes widened considerably even as she got on the commlink with the LT and Intruder's bridge and announced, "Dove hunt." That was the code word for Imperial trouble, that the mission was compromised by Imperial Forces. A Pigeon Trap was bounty hunters and a Duck Lure was local law enforcement. A Dove Hunt was a definite abort; if the Empire caught wind of them, they'd pile on the reinforcements and firepower until the rebels were dead. One could shoot their way past local forces and buy off or gun down bounty hunters, but the Imperials with the element of surprise was a good reason to fade out of the system as quickly as possible. She turned to the others, after hitting the pad several times to abort the upload, scrub the stuff already in the Ganatoo system and sanitize the logs to show nothing ever happened. The mission was burned; if the upload were to complete itself, it would be able to conceal itself in the system, but a partial upload would be unstable and possibly reveal itself to the Imperials. An abort and erasure meant having to start over from scratch on the upload, but at least the Imperials might not ever be the wiser for the hack attempt. "Lionesse is en route, looks like, they just cleared all traffic in the Ganatoo pattern for an Imperial Code VTRL. We walk out real casual," she told the rest, "and we go to the port's speeder parking. But anything that we didn't encounter coming in that tries to stop us gets blasted." Besk nodded; assume ISB and shoot to kill; and as Besk figured-- suicide rather than capture. It might get messy, but any bribed guards would possibly turn on them with imperial trouble-- the Empire cared little for smuggling but a lot about Rebels and they'd paid smuggler rate bribes suitable for local, not Imperial, trouble. "I'll lead Serossa," he said casually, knowing that the point had to kill fast; Sekula needed to be on Thanner's back and Thanner couldn't be up on point. Toland was a cherry. Besk threw him a wink he didn't feel. "I've got rear," the sarge said as they moved out, along the slightly shabby blue-painted plastoid hallways of Ganatoo, eventually melding with the crowd of regular people who were not, it seemed, panicking or trying to necessarily leave, though they were held up in the terminal. That, to Besk's eyes, looked good -- the security people didn't look all that surprised, and while all the departures and arrivals showed delays, it didn't look like the trouble was spaceport trouble. He didn't quite dare breathe a sigh of relief as they got out the doors; the Sarge clearly didn't see anything either, since she was the one best qualified to spot a tail and off the bastard if necessary. But so far, all clear, especially when they took a few turns into less crowded areas, checked the horizon for any signs of surveillance. If they were being tracked, they'd have to be good, and if they were that good, the Liberators were probably burned. Shockingly, they made it to their speeder truck, "borrowed" with no sign that they were the object of he security problem; a quick scan of hacked local comms, using code lifted from the traffic control system indicated it was...of course. Slooga. "What's the plan, Sarge?"</s> <\|message\|>Lieutenant Durod Byron "Heads up." By now all the Liberators on the escort detail were wise to the danger at hand. They all tried to keep a low profile even though they were on high alert -- Vannin even managed to quiet himself, expecting imminent trouble. Trouble came. Slooga shook hands with the local contact, and the local contact didn't let go. The facade bled away in an instant -- muzzles left their holsters on both ends of the square. The contact raised his voice. "You all know the game," the man said loudly. "Sooner or later they get us all. Imps pinched me three weeks ago, and I walk if I give them the hutt. Walk away now, we'll do the same." "Bastard!" Slooga bellowed. "You can shoot it out if you like," the contact continued, ignoring his new prisoner. "Their frigate is already enroute. You can make it out if you run, but not if you fight. Just walk away. Leave the hutt with me, and one of you can take his place, I don't care. We can do this nice and easy, or we c..." The contact stopped short. He let go of Slooga's hand, and crumpled to the ground with an audible sizzling sound. Slooga turned to face his men, a disruptor pistol smoking in his left hand. "Kill them all!" he roared. The battle erupted in a flash. Pirates from both sides opened fire. Vannin sprayed a hail of bolts at the high rise opposite their position, then loaded a fresh cell and advanced, crouching and weaving his way towards Slooga, who was already flanked by troopers. Lt. Byron was there, letting loose with a heavy pistol and trying to speak calmly into his communicator. He was doing a poor job. Vannin snatched it out of his hands and screamed, "Nerf just shit the bed, get over here and clean it up! Now!" A hostile ran towards them, and Keller pitched the communicator at him, then brought up his rifle and took him down hard. "We need a plan!" Byron shouted. "We need to bug out!" Keller agreed. Slooga was barking orders. His pirates might have heard them, but Byron ignored them entirely. "Corporal!" he yelled, grabbing Vannin's shoulder. "Secure a path to the shuttle!" Vannin nodded. "Give me three minutes. And send the slug now! He'll slow you down!" He tossed a grenade into the hostile end of the square and turned on his heels. "Hayca! Fish! On me!" The three of them moved into the alley. The squad was surrounded -- but not for long. Meanwhile, Lt. Byron labored in vain to separate Slooga from the front line of the firefight. By now the friendlies had gained a slim edge, but more enemies were pouring in, and stormtroopers wouldn't be far behind. Confounded, Byron spotted Tadia nearby. "Doc!" he called. "We gotta get him moving now. You're in charge. Get. Him. On. That. Shuttle!" Someone called out a flanking move by the enemy, and Byron's attention was absorbed once more in the shooting. He slid into cover a few meters away, and tried his luck giving orders to Slooga's pirates. Slooga, furious but at last realizing the futility of prolonging the issue, growled and cursed, and at last began to cooperate with his Alliance team. "Get me out," he muttered.</s>	<\|message\|>Tadia Omi-Ren "Doc" Tadia jumped behind cover, firing her rifle over it. "I'm in charge of the Hutt? I hope you get shot Byron." She jumped over the barrier literally pushing the giant slug towards an alleyway. "Stay in cover idiot." The Hutt cursed something in huttese. "Yeah, if you got something to say that isn't nice keep it in your mouth. Though you should probably do as I say right now as I've never operated on a Hutt before, and do you really want me to start now?" She winced as she realized the supplies were left behind, raising her commlink she spoke into it. "Lt. The Medical supplies, we can't just leave them behind. We need them. Otherwise next time someone gets shot I'm going to have to use a hammer as sedative." She ducked looked around the corner as more people began running towards them. "I really hate this job sometimes."</s>
<\|description\|>Thanner Antares Species: Human Age: 25 Planet of Origin/Birth: Alderaan Force Sensitive Y/N: No Appearance: Skills/Abilities: - Subterfuge: Thanner Antares is a spy, and spy's deal in secrecy. He excels at avoiding detection, and he is able to slice into computer networks and security systems. - Smooth-talker: A master of deception, Thanner is able to utilize his suave and sophisticated demeanor to manipulate others effectively. - Sharpshooter: Trained in marksmanship at the Imperial academy, his weapon of his choice is the sniper rifle and he has carried out several assassinations on behalf of the Empire in the past. - Traitor: Given his background, he also has a working knowledge of Imperial procedures and personnel, which has proven to be an asset to the Rebellion on multiple occasions. Equipment: - Sniper rifle - Blaster pistols - Stealth field generator - Fusion cutter - Night vision goggles - Charm and charisma Psychological Profile: At the end of the day, Thanner is a turncoat. He is a traitor to not only the Empire, but to his family. Although he believes what he is doing is morally right, Thanner continues to struggle with this notion of betrayal and he is haunted by the missions he's carried out in service to the Empire. He past also makes it hard for others within the Rebellion to fully trust him. Thanner can't blame them. History: Thanner was born into a wealthy and respected family on the planet Alderaan. His father, Commander Calder Antares, served in the Republic government and has since gone on to become a highly ranked and very well regarded Imperial officer, a true loyalist to the Emperor's cause. To Thanner's father, legacy is of the utmost importance, and he instilled in his son a strong respect for authority. During his teenaged years, Thanner met and fell in love with an idyllic young woman named Rashira. Rashira did not share the same views as Thanner with regards to the Empire, but he still greatly admired her spirit. Unfortunately, politics would soon come between them, and Rashira left Alderaan. At the age of 18, Thanner was intent on following in his father's footsteps. He would attend the Imperial academy on a full scholarship and soon became an Imperial officer in his own right. Thanner learned quickly how to present himself in order to rise the ranks of the Empire. His noble bloodline, combined with his ability to manipulate his fellow officers allowed him to ascend quite quickly. Imperial Intelligence soon took a great interest in the young Antares, noticing his uncanny ability to know exactly what to say at any given moment. He was recruited as an agent of the Empire, carrying out secret missions at the highest level of discretion. The Rebel movement was growing across the galaxy and Thanner was exactly what the agency was looking for, a skilled operative with an undying loyalty to the Empire. The only problem was, Thanner's loyalty had started to wane. He had seen the atrocities committed by the Empire, especially the ones committed by his own father, and for the first time he questioned his place in the galaxy. Thanner specialized in anti-Rebel operations, detecting and eliminating Rebel sympathizers or spies. However, he grew to resent his actions over time, and he would become the very thing he swore to destroy. He became a double agent, selling Imperial secrets to the Rebel cause. His contact within the Rebellion was none other than his lost love Rashira, who had grown to become a powerful freedom fighter. Unfortunately, his treason would soon be discovered by Imperial Intelligence, and his family legacy would be disgraced in the eyes of the Empire. In the Empire, the penalty for treason is death, and Thanner's father was ordered to be his executioner. Commander Antares was forced to chose between his son and his Emperor, and he would chose the latter. Luckily for Thanner, Rashira still considered him to be an asset of great value to the Rebellion and she led a Rebel strike team on a mission to rescue him. During the ensuing escape, a firefight erupted. Rashira was shot and killed by Thanner's father, a sacrifice that allowed Thanner to escape. Thanner now fights on the side of the Rebellion, still haunted by the sins of his past and by Rashira's sacrifice. Yes, and: During his time as an Imperial agent, he gathered vital intelligence that aided the Empire in their conquest of the planet Uslam. This has led to some (understandable) hostility from Corporal Jenk Beskad and Corporal Keller "Bits" Vannin, both of whom are natives of Uslam. Coproral Beskad in particular harbors great distrust for Agent Antares, owing not just to Thanner's past alliegiances but because of his personality as well. Beskad is a rugged loud-mouthed miner while Antares is a smooth-talking man of sophistication, born into the highest class of society.</s> <\|message\|>HK-51 HK-51 re-activated on cue to the Human Female pointing at The Master. "Warning: Safety protocols disengaging - I am detecting aggressive behaviour towards the Master. I would not threaten The Master if I were you, meatbag." His cold and synthetic tones pierced the room, and all eyes turned on him and the incredulous woman</s> <\|message\|>Specialist Hayca Carid Hayca had been standing behind most of the veterans. She had been observing and assessing the greenhorns according to her own weird measurements. The moment the captain was outside of earshot Hayca walked up to Keller. "So, who are you placing your bets on this time Bits?" She looked over at the group and started pointing at two men. "One, two aaanndd..." A grin formed on her face as she pointed at Toland. "Three." She looked back at Keller and gave him a shove with her elbow. "Those are my picks, gonna bet ten credits on each of em. Speaking about credits, who won last time?" She said, still with that same grin on her face. She actually wanted to bet on the new lieutenant but saying that directly to a superiour officer's face might get you into trouble. Speaking about the new guy, it looked like the sarge would be the one who was going to have to keep the platoon together, cause this guy looked like a whimp. Besk saluted to the guy. Well, he shouldnt really expect any salute from her untill he had proven himself as a capable member of the unit. Besides that, she was rather happy with her picks and was almost sure that she'd win this bet. Right at that moment the droid which had been collecting dust all this time reactivated and started calling Tadia a meatbag. Well, it certainly seemed like things were gonna liven up in a few minutes.</s> <\|message\|>Corporal Keller "Bits" Vannin "I think we split the last round. Lemme see...." Vannin evaluated Hayca's picks, rattling off baseless assumptions about each of them under his breath and listing things like 'funny smile' as if they would have an impact on the soldier's lifespan in battle. When he was satisfied, his volume came back up to a conversational level and he finished his train of thought. "... kind of a limp I guess or not, but you're right about Chompers there, he'll go for sure. And Tats for three? Maybe." He bobbed his head left and right, and one could almost hear the loose screw in his head clanging against either side of his skull. "But I'll take the squid over him, if droids don't count. And that one." He leveled a finger at Thanner Antares. "That one smells like a clone vat. I'll go double that he's first." The humor drained from his voice entirely. He knew imperial defectors were a dime a dozen, and sometimes -- like the Captain -- they even came with some useful talents. But this one had a grating air about him that, for some reason, was setting off alarm bells in Vannin's head. "Make it triple, if I'm the one that breaks his neck." "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that, corporal," said the Lieutenant. Vannin shrugged, as if to say 'Whatever helps you sleep,' and straightened up a bit. He raised his voice, trying to draw some attention away from the myriad powderkegs that seemed to be springing up on every front. "My name is Lieutenant Durod Byron. I understand you folks have been holding your own out here for some time, and Fleet Command is real happy about the way you boy... you folks do work." The look on his face said that he hoped nobody noticed the blunder. "Now we're here to fill in some gaps, and help you keep doing what you do best. I know this can be a little awkward, and hopefully we'll get used to each other pretty quick, but in the meantime I just want you all to know that I'm not here to change the way you fellas do business. I'm gonna do my best to stay out of your hair, and together we'll get the job done, your way. So. Take a few minutes and get acquainted. The new guys brought a little extra gear, feel free to help them square it away, and we'll meet up in the briefing room in two hours. Got a hot new target in mind, should be a good hit." He glanced at the HK, and a glimmer of dread flashed across his face as he envisioned a brawl breaking out. "Better make that one hour. We'll get some introductions out of the way and go over the mission." He came very close to saying 'dismissed,' but decided against it at the last second, made a half-salute, and stepped off. Before leaving the hangar he whispered something to Sergeant Sekula. Vannin didn't make anything out of that conversation, but he turned back to Hayca and said, "Guess he doesn't want us punching the new guys just yet, huh."</s> <\|message\|>Toland Vas Toland spasmed for a moment, being caugh off guard twice in a literal matter of seconds. He should of known that the HK-51 unit he had worked on weeks ago would be persistent, but being close to a stalker never came to mind. "I'm sorry, one second," Toland asked Tadia politely with a hint of embarrassment. He turned to HK, grabbed the droid by the "shoulders" and stared him directly into his sensors. "I'm sorry, but this is getting to be a little much," Toland told the droid outright. "I am not your master. I don't want I be your master. I want you to find the person with the most facial hair in this room and make him your master. That is a direct order!" With that done, Toland turned back to Tadia with as much composure he could muster and saluted her. "Private Toland Vas, at your service. Not a complete idiot and yes, good with droids. My big metal friend here is Betuu. Say hi." "Hi," Betuu copies as if he were a big weaponize parrot. "Also, side note," Toland added in, "I don't condone anything the HK unit just said before. He's not mine."</s>	<\|message\|>Thanner Antares Thanner stood among the regiment's new recruits, and could not help but turn up his nose at the stench of cheap liquor in the air. He knew that the regiment's soldiers considered themselves to be separate from the pirate crew aboard the Intruder, but he found it difficult to make that distinction himself. As he glanced across the room at the veterans of the unit, the likely source of the foul odor, he noticed one of the soldiers pointing a finger at him and muttering about. Thanner smirked and turned away, undoubtedly projecting a foulness of his own. It was the stench of arrogance. Of elitism. A stench not so easily washed away. In his short time with the Rebellion Thanner had become privy to such accusatory gestures and mutterings, and he had become exceedingly adept at shrugging them off. Perhaps too adept. Thanner refocused his attention as the new Lieutenant spoke. "My name is Lieutenant Durod Byron. I understand you folks have been holding your own out here for some time, and Fleet Command is real happy about the way you boy... you folks do work." "Not a great start," Thanner thought to himself, glancing around again at the rugged folks in his midst. "Now we're here to fill in some gaps, and help you keep doing what you do best. I know this can be a little awkward, and hopefully we'll get used to each other pretty quick, but in the meantime I just want you all to know that I'm not here to change the way you fellas do business. I'm gonna do my best to stay out of your hair, and together we'll get the JOB done, your way. So. Take a few minutes and get acquainted. The new guys brought a little extra gear, feel free to help them square it away, and we'll meet up in the briefing room in two hours. Got a hot new target in mind, should be a good hit." To say that things would be a little awkward was surely an understatement, but Thanner was confident that he would soon be able to smooth things over. He had been in tough spots before, but he had always been able to talk his way out of a situation. In truth, his tongue had saved him more times than he could count, and it was what allowed him to excel as an agent of the Empire. Thanner had much less confidence however, in the Lieutenant's ability to lead. Thanner knew that, above all, these gruff military-types responded to authority and detested weakness. After what these men had been through, they had no place for weakness. Lieutenant Byron possessed authority on paper, but he oozed weakness through every orifice, and Thanner knew that the veterans would detect this as surely as he detected their disgusting aroma. He wondered how long the Lieutenant could survive in this environment. After the Lieutenant finished his address, Thanner made his way across the hangar, deliberately walking past the same soldier that had been unsubtlety gesturing in his direction previously. "Guess he doesn't want us punching the new guys just yet, huh," he heard the soldier say. "I should certainly hope not," Thanner replied casually, "For your sake." Turning his back to the soldier, Thanner carried on. He saw the Lieutenant whispering something to a woman before exiting the hangar, and he managed to catch the woman's eye with his own piercing gaze. He strode over to the woman and extended his hand, ensuring that the display was seen by the soldier he had mocked. "Sergeant Sekula I presume? My name is Antares...Thanner Antares."</s>
<\|description\|>Ja'vi Harkan Species: Twi'lek Age: 25 Planet of Origin/Birth: Unknown, she doesn't remember. Force Sensitive Y/N: Yes Appearance: (Training Lightsaber is Defunct and hidden.) Skills/Abilities:-Healer- Although she is not a masterful user of the Force compared to even a Padawan, Ja'van is able to use it to help hasten the healing of injuries or slowing the rate by which they cause death. Enabling her to buy time to save lives. -Ja'vi be Nimble, Ja'vi be Quick- Being a creature that is slender and light of feet, she is quite skilled in acrobatic feats. She treads lightly, and is adept in being stealthy and sticking to the shadows in patience waiting for a vulnerability to take advantage of. -Speeder Bike Pilot- With the uncanny reactivity that force sensitivity has given her, Ja'vi is an insanely skilled Speeder Bike pilot. -Still Learning the Ways - After abandoning Coruscant and escaping to the outer-rim to try and find and aid rebels, she has restarted the meditations she had came to know as a youngling. It has granted her extremely limited use of the force in the form of slight increases to reaction time and the ability to move small objects with the Force. Though she would only ever use it in the case of a truly dire emergency as it tends to get her noticed more than she'd like. -Quick Wits that Stay Steady- Even though she is not very practiced on the field of battle, she has the uncanny ability to stay cool under significant pressure. Whether it's the ability to think clearly while under fire and similar situations. -Small Arms Crack Shot- Having gained some practice while wandering the universe in search of the rebellion, Ja'vi has become quite a decent shot with some of the weapons. Particularly the pistol, as the Rifle often feels to cumbersome for her to like. -Duelist- Even though she hasn't had much practice with a Lightsaber, she's quite good with various kinds of blades due to her nimbleness and dexterity. She carries a pair of Vibro-Blades (short swords) on her back instead, of which she uses with great effectiveness in close quarters combat. With such fluidity is this, that those who have seen her fight in such a manner oft say that she moves like a Jedi. Equipment:- Blaster Pistol x 1 - Vibro Blades x 2 - Standard Issue Rebellion Helmet and Blaster Armor Psychological Profile:Calm and steady of mind. Benevolent, but strict. Ja'vi cares deeply for those that surround her and does her best to insure their well being. If someone hurts those she cares for however, her tendencies can swing into the outright defiant...or even ferocious. The Tranquility of the Light Side is hard to instill within her. History: Her first memory was the hand of a strange looking man reaching down to her amongst blinding sunlight. As a child, she was swept up by the Jedi as a recruit during the horrors of the Clone Wars. They had discovered her to be rather credibly sensitive to the invisible will that governed the flow of life and will in the universe. Her midichlorian count was high, but not incredible akin to the masterfulness of Yoda, or the prodigal Anakin Skywalker. She was destined not to become a Master, she was destined to become a Knight. She was barely a youngling when the insidious Order 66 was issued. One of the very few fortunate enough to escape into the alleyways of Coruscant in the first few minutes of the Great Purge, Ja'vi lived a fearful life that was constantly on the run until she found someone who took pity on her. A Doctor, a kind, benevolent man who had taken The Doctor's Oath in ages past. He hid her away from those who hunted her, fulfilling the oath that he held concerning helping those in need. She lived in hiding then for many years until her adoptive father decided that it would be safer for them to move to the outer rim. On the way there, she was separated from him in an unfortunate accident. From then on as a young teenaged girl living on the outer rim, she lived a life of risk and danger of falling into enslavement; until one day she won a Speeder Bike from an unwitting man in a game of chance. This was the moment that she discovered her knack for such a task. Tearing through jungles and oft escaping death by mere hairs of a distance, the nimble girl took her talents to blurring past on-planet outposts of Imperial Guards as a small-time smuggler of small, insanely valuable and illicit goods. So competent was she in this, that as she grew older, the former Youngling eventually obtained the attention of the Rebellion. They sought her for her ability to sneak past or outrun those who pursued her. And one day, she awoke not in the hovel of her hideout, but instead a eerily quite and cold chamber with a bag over her head. Once she stirred, it was removed, and she was suddenly face to face with members of the Rebellion. More than willingly for the sins cast upon her from the past, she joined their cause. Thankfully they did not know what she actually was, and they paid fairly well. Through basic training she never fared well, except for in the close-quarters setting of combat. There she became known as a monstrosity. Not much longer, the former youngling would find herself on the front lines of a messy, bloody conflict; and she was more than willing to put her blades to work. Yes, and:This is a bit of a writing exercise; how your character relates to the character posted above yours. It should be something incidental, and can easily involve antipathies and disagreements. It's almost like a 'how they met' sort of exercise.</s> <\|message\|>Betuu Essbede Betuu was laying waste to backwater scum left and right, finally back in his element. The rouges were nothing like the highly trained clone of his day. The clones were brave and almost worthy of his respect. Bioengineered machines of war. The perfect foil to glory of The Confederacy. These idiots were cowards, cowering behind cover like rats. Betuu was happy to exterminate them. Betuu planted himself behind a civilian speeder and unleashed the fury of his blasters on any fool who rose from cover. "Advise," Betuu suggested over the comms, "the opposing forces here are being reactionary and do not seem to have set up any official plan-of-attack for this engagement. Recommend complete elimination of current ground forces before the arrival of reinforcement. No witnesses. Will allow surviving rebels time to escape off world." ----------- Toland was already at the speeder when alarms began to sound from the spaceport. Looks like someone had woken up from his nap. He grabbed his pistol, which he had snuck into the glove compartment of the stolen ride. This is it, he thought. "We should probably get out of here and meet with the others," Toland thought aloud, but he had a sneaking suspicion that his opinion wasn't worth a credit to them.</s> <\|message\|>Slooga Besadii Nem'ro "Have Betuu give us approximate location of forces and other pertinent tac data," he told Toland, instantaneously grasping that Betuu wasn't going to lose his cool in reporting everything concisely and accurately where the Lieutenant might be a little busy having his first firefight. It was an intuitive thing on Besk's part, but he knew it was a good gut call. A droid might be limited in devising a plan, but you could always rely on one to provide a pretty accurate kriffing report in a pinch, which would really help them get it together. Behind the wheel of the speeder truck, Besk managed to drive recklessly fast, using the navigation assistance console and the HUD display that advised him that he was breaking the speeding laws -- of course, right now, the locals were probably way more concerned about a firefight than traffic control. As they drew closer to the fighting, Besk used the information from Betuu to position the truck with a good line of escape close to a good ambush point that'd give them a clear pop at the enemy's flanks. It was still taking too long, even at the speeds at which he was moving. In any case, they had limited weapons but could still pull off a hit-and-fade ambush, "This is the plan," he briefed the others quickly, "Infiltrate, hit contacts with grenades, open fire when the frags go off," it had to be fast, and wanted to give the others the gist of the plan there. "Pull back if it's hairy, link with the LT if we can. If not, back to this van and we bug out. Stay alive." The speeder truck, dilapidated as it was, fit well with the grimy industrial backdrop of Ganatoo, and the vehicle itself was inconspicuous. Using the navigational data, he had a good idea of where to park the thing and disembark the passengers, himself included, with a pistol in hand. He had a det on him, and it would be used. They had to finish this business quickly, and that's why he moved quickly, finding the right sort of urban/industrial cover in the form of crates and trash receptacles as he tried to pick a low-visibility approach on the enemy, guided by the sounds of their fire. It was taking just too kriffing long, with Liberators under fire, and Besk wanted to relieve the pressure, but not get killed doing it. They were taking risks, already, by moving the way they were, which was fast enough to draw notice if the bounty hunters had lookouts. It was a calculated risk, hoping that the bounty hunters were unaware of any other operation outside of the spaceport. When they were in place, braced against cover, Besk let the detonator fly, initiating their ambush. He only stopped long enough to note that it wasn't Imperial military, yet, but rather, fringe scum, not infantry. The plan would work even better on them, or worse if they were professional mercs, though he doubted they were due to a lack of sentries -- Bounty hunters tended to focus on the prey and didn't tend to expect actual reinforcement or the targets to fight back like trained military. There was a grouping of them pouring on fire on the Lieutenant and Slooga and the shuttle with a light repeating blaster, and they had a real good field of fire with a weapon that had good range and rate of fire. The detonator went off and that's when the blaster fire came up, gratifyingly on cue, and that's when the bounty hunters started to get confused about where the fire was coming from.</s>	<\|message\|>Ja'vi Harkan Ja'vi Harkan - Going Hunting The Rebels had struck her as a peculiar, but practical bunch. In the early hours of her morning, she had begun it with a similar routine ever since she had escaped to the Outer Rim. There, in the quiet tranquility of the room that the Alliance had bequeathed to her, she sat cross legged in the center upon a rug. With her eyes closed peacefully, and her slender fingertips woven upon her lap while her elbows rested neatly bent upon her knees; she remained deeply within a tranquil state. She could feel it, flowing around her. The Force. It was a will, a consciousness beyond her own that she could not truly grasp. Yet, the teachings that she had been given as a child reminded her all too well that the ability to sense it was only the beginning. Minor hints, whispers, it spoke to her; yet even after she had been meditating daily for months, she lacked the ability to truly decipher it. Frustrating in some instances and encouraging in others, it was a constant reminder to herself that she direly needed to keep a steady mind, a steadfast conscience. One that would not let her mind slip into anger, no matter how irksome and fickle it seemed to be. Both she and it had changed much from when she was a Youngling, after all. A knock on the barrier that separated her from the rest of the rebellion, and the abrupt slide of its' opening caused her to open one eye. In front of her stood another Rebel Trooper who looked at her in a befuddled manner. It was a fair gesture, most of these men and women seemed to be souls of direct action; searching not for the subtleties of complex trials, but the simplest means with the least amount of sacrifice. For that, they had her admiration. But it didn't excuse how they oft looked at her with such peculiarity. "Harkan, get your fangs. We're going hunting today." Standing up and plucking up her Helmet, she was careful to insure that it didn't cause discomfort for the tendrils that extended in a smooth curl past beyond her head as she donned it. The former small-time smuggler turned trooper quietly nodded and then holstered her blaster pistol. Belts tightly fastened about her shoulders as a pair of Vibro-blades fastened tightly about her upper waist neatly. Then equipping the standard issue plate, the former Youngling then bound out after the other fellow Rebel Troopers that soon embarked upon a wild sprint through the city. As they traveled, Ja'vi's eyes remained closed. Continuing to strive for inner balance while she herself rumbled along in the back of the truck. Orders were given, and she listened carefully; knowing what she was meant to do, the job that Besk wanted her to perform. She was a distraction, she always was. But the way by which the Rebellion's helmet confined her peripheral vision was suffocating. Digging her fingertips into the side, she slowly removed it. Once the Truck came to a sudden, abrupt halt however, she sprinted hurriedly to the cover with the others. Watching as Besk prepared the detonators, she reached behind her and drew out her pair of Vibro-Blades. With the flick of a switch, they hummed softly as they knew all too well their purpose. With a cacophonous roar, the foundations of the earth shook with the eruption of the blast, and she sprung into action. Through the clearing and obscuring smoke, she exploded forward into the confused ranks of the Bounty Hunters like a resurgent wave. Chaos was around her, there was anger, rage, consuming fury, and fear. Yet she herself was tranquil, a resolute wave of resilient strength that tore into the first Bounty Hunter she saw. Blaster Fire hissed and cooked the very air over her as she nimbly avoided it by mere hairs. It was a dance she partook in, a dance that made her feel the very flow of the world around her. One villainous hunter unceremoniously fell, caught by utter surprise and bisected by the waist with a swipe of her blades. Vibro-Blades hissed through the air, and she barely managed to gravely wound another bounty hunter before his shouted warning warned his comrades of her presence. Blasters turned in her direction and instinctively she fled. Nimbly kicking off and away to dive back into the smoke behind some cover where she sheathed one blade and drew her Blaster Pistol instead. She was there to fulfill her purpose, and that was to buy time for others to evacuate before Imperials got involved. That, and naturally escape herself so that she might live and fight another day.</s>
<\|description\|>Ja'vi Harkan Species: Twi'lek Age: 25 Planet of Origin/Birth: Unknown, she doesn't remember. Force Sensitive Y/N: Yes Appearance: (Training Lightsaber is Defunct and hidden.) Skills/Abilities:-Healer- Although she is not a masterful user of the Force compared to even a Padawan, Ja'van is able to use it to help hasten the healing of injuries or slowing the rate by which they cause death. Enabling her to buy time to save lives. -Ja'vi be Nimble, Ja'vi be Quick- Being a creature that is slender and light of feet, she is quite skilled in acrobatic feats. She treads lightly, and is adept in being stealthy and sticking to the shadows in patience waiting for a vulnerability to take advantage of. -Speeder Bike Pilot- With the uncanny reactivity that force sensitivity has given her, Ja'vi is an insanely skilled Speeder Bike pilot. -Still Learning the Ways - After abandoning Coruscant and escaping to the outer-rim to try and find and aid rebels, she has restarted the meditations she had came to know as a youngling. It has granted her extremely limited use of the force in the form of slight increases to reaction time and the ability to move small objects with the Force. Though she would only ever use it in the case of a truly dire emergency as it tends to get her noticed more than she'd like. -Quick Wits that Stay Steady- Even though she is not very practiced on the field of battle, she has the uncanny ability to stay cool under significant pressure. Whether it's the ability to think clearly while under fire and similar situations. -Small Arms Crack Shot- Having gained some practice while wandering the universe in search of the rebellion, Ja'vi has become quite a decent shot with some of the weapons. Particularly the pistol, as the Rifle often feels to cumbersome for her to like. -Duelist- Even though she hasn't had much practice with a Lightsaber, she's quite good with various kinds of blades due to her nimbleness and dexterity. She carries a pair of Vibro-Blades (short swords) on her back instead, of which she uses with great effectiveness in close quarters combat. With such fluidity is this, that those who have seen her fight in such a manner oft say that she moves like a Jedi. Equipment:- Blaster Pistol x 1 - Vibro Blades x 2 - Standard Issue Rebellion Helmet and Blaster Armor Psychological Profile:Calm and steady of mind. Benevolent, but strict. Ja'vi cares deeply for those that surround her and does her best to insure their well being. If someone hurts those she cares for however, her tendencies can swing into the outright defiant...or even ferocious. The Tranquility of the Light Side is hard to instill within her. History: Her first memory was the hand of a strange looking man reaching down to her amongst blinding sunlight. As a child, she was swept up by the Jedi as a recruit during the horrors of the Clone Wars. They had discovered her to be rather credibly sensitive to the invisible will that governed the flow of life and will in the universe. Her midichlorian count was high, but not incredible akin to the masterfulness of Yoda, or the prodigal Anakin Skywalker. She was destined not to become a Master, she was destined to become a Knight. She was barely a youngling when the insidious Order 66 was issued. One of the very few fortunate enough to escape into the alleyways of Coruscant in the first few minutes of the Great Purge, Ja'vi lived a fearful life that was constantly on the run until she found someone who took pity on her. A Doctor, a kind, benevolent man who had taken The Doctor's Oath in ages past. He hid her away from those who hunted her, fulfilling the oath that he held concerning helping those in need. She lived in hiding then for many years until her adoptive father decided that it would be safer for them to move to the outer rim. On the way there, she was separated from him in an unfortunate accident. From then on as a young teenaged girl living on the outer rim, she lived a life of risk and danger of falling into enslavement; until one day she won a Speeder Bike from an unwitting man in a game of chance. This was the moment that she discovered her knack for such a task. Tearing through jungles and oft escaping death by mere hairs of a distance, the nimble girl took her talents to blurring past on-planet outposts of Imperial Guards as a small-time smuggler of small, insanely valuable and illicit goods. So competent was she in this, that as she grew older, the former Youngling eventually obtained the attention of the Rebellion. They sought her for her ability to sneak past or outrun those who pursued her. And one day, she awoke not in the hovel of her hideout, but instead a eerily quite and cold chamber with a bag over her head. Once she stirred, it was removed, and she was suddenly face to face with members of the Rebellion. More than willingly for the sins cast upon her from the past, she joined their cause. Thankfully they did not know what she actually was, and they paid fairly well. Through basic training she never fared well, except for in the close-quarters setting of combat. There she became known as a monstrosity. Not much longer, the former youngling would find herself on the front lines of a messy, bloody conflict; and she was more than willing to put her blades to work. Yes, and:This is a bit of a writing exercise; how your character relates to the character posted above yours. It should be something incidental, and can easily involve antipathies and disagreements. It's almost like a 'how they met' sort of exercise.</s> <\|message\|>Corporal Keller "Bits" Vannin Vannin and his three filled in as rear-guard as the rest of the rebels trickled into the shuttle. He took a position at the foot of the ramp, and squeezed off covering fire for the others as they ran in. Besk's speeder came up the ramp and that looked like it. "We're good!" he shouted. "Headcount!" Sekula shouted. The detail leaders checked over their men and reported back. They were short one light gunner. Someone went to check the head -- Vannin figured you never know with the new guys -- and Byron shouted something along the lines of 'Push off, we can't wait.' How typical. Just then a speeder came flying around a corner and Vannin raised his gun. "That's him!" he shouted. "Hold up!" In hindsight, it might just as easily have been a suicide bomber on one last desperate attempt to kill Slooga, but that thought never occurred to Vannin, who waved the speeder up the ramp frantically. Sure enough, it was one of their new troopers, with a big gun, dead body, and an attitude problem. Vannin was in love. "You got balls, lady," he said. "Fish over there thought you were attacking us. He almost killed you." Ortro Dob raised his fins in protest. He'd done no such thing. Nearby, Hayca rolled her eyes and muttered 'Pathetic.' --------------- "Someone ought to tell that space slug to stop crying, we still have his merchandise and it's loaded. But don't tell him we just found his contact's funds. He doesn't need to know that," Besk told the LT, with a wink, "Full report later." Byron sighed. "We just failed our mission because of him," he said. He made no mention of the unit's losses. "Controlling Slooga in the field is barely even possible, and his men are worse. We can't keep working together like this." He knew from training that he wasn't supposed to vent frustrations like this to enlisted, but the adrenaline was draining away quicker than his anger. Everything should have worked -- the rebels did their job, and they still failed against trash, all because of Slooga's miscalculation. Cost of doing business, probably -- but that wasn't a business that Lt. Byron wanted any part of anymore. "We're going to get back to basics," he decided aloud. "Get me a tally on the supplies and the wounded, see what we can do about those speeders..... We'll debrief on the Intruder." He didn't say it, but he knew already how the conversation with the captain would go. From now on, they were done playing dress-up for Hutts. It was time to point this firepower back where it belonged -- at the imps.</s> <\|message\|>Saleen Re'Revoure Saleen's attention turned over to Corporal Vannin in at the ramp. "After being almost stranded, I would only need a dose of friendly fire to complete my day." Saleen said with a sarcastic voice, turning her helmet to face Ortro. She had never been a fan of aliens, and the Mon Calamari were only too alien for her liking. The notion that he had almost fired at her did not help her opinion of his people any further. Perhaps fortunately for the sake of diplomacy, the actual expression she was currently giving Ortro was hidden under her helmet. "Sorry about the mess... I didn't have time to strap him in." She said as she turned to Vannin, motioning towards the Gran bounty hunter just as the alien slid off the back of the truck and slumped down onto the front of the burning cab which was currently being extinguished by three rebels with extinguishers. The rear of the truck, Saleen, and some of the walls in the shuttle had been covered with alien blood following the bounty hunter's splattering. "I forgot to strap him in." Moving her hands to the sides of her helmet to open the pressure and remove it, she shook her head and let her ponytail fall behind her neck. But as she moved her head, she suddenly noticed a familiar figure from the earlier battle. A twi'lek! " ... ! Wait a moment," Saleen said with a sidetracked voice to Vannin, as she turned to face Ja'vi in the shuttle. Marching up to the twi'lek with her helmet under her left arm, she stopped right behind Ja'vi. Waiting for twi'lek to turn around, Saleen raised a hand and slapped Ja'vi right in the cheek just as the twi'lek turned around, almost knocking her to the ground. "WHAT were you thinking leaving me behind?!" Saleen suddenly shouted out, whatever peaceful charade her face had ever hosted having long since been abated as she pointed accusingly down at the shorter twi'lek. "Your stupid tentacle head could have gotten me killed or captured!"</s>	<\|message\|>Ja'vi Harkan Ja'vi - A Minor Altercation She stood silently to the side as the Rebel leaders began to take accountability, only to stand even further back once there was the sound of uproarious chaos behind them. Recklessly charging up the ramp in a hijacked Speeder was none other than the heavy gunner that had almost shot her! She remained nonplussed as the craft crashed into the hangar where they all stood, and stood even further back as the Rebels hurried in to douse the flames. Her further assistance wasn't needed, it seemed. All were accounted for, all were prepared to continue onward and care for the wounded and lost. Though the gruesome display of the dead and bloodied bounty hunter was at least slightly amusing. With the mission complete and gone as far as it could, she lightly plucked up her own helmet from the vehicle she had disembarked from and turned instead to head back towards her quarters to restart the meditation that had been interrupted. Her intention had been one that was peaceful and easygoing as usual. Yet the marching of heavily laden footsteps drawing closer forced her to turn about to see none other than the very same angry gunner that had crashed into the ship. Not only that, but her hand was drawn back in anger, fury and rage that she could sense and understand, but why? What purpose did it hold? It was a movement that she could easily avoid, but to what end would that meet? More likely than not, her avoidance would only cause such enraged fervor to increase in the face of dissatisfaction. More destruction would likely be wrought, and she refused to be the fault of it. So the Twi'lek accepted the strike. Closing her eyes as it drew nearer and sent her spinning into a nearby wall. Her world whirled about her as she regained her equilibrium, and slowly stood back up normally. Insults were slung, but she didn't respond to them. Bearing a sense of defiance, she looked eye to eye with the flamboyantly armored gunner for along moment as venomous words were slung towards her ears. In response, Ja'vi said nothing. Instead she only turned about on her heels while she wiped away a thin trickle of blood that crept from the corner of her lip. There was certainly pain, she accepted it, knowing all too well that her body's way of telling her that there was an injury. Yet in her mind it was not worth going to the medical ward over, as there were wounded pouring in there. A minor issue like hers was not one worth busying over. Instead, she silently into another room and resumed her meditation. This focus would bring her mind off the pain and agony, and instead upon the extent that she could grasp the force. It was very little, and she needed to truly be able to understand its depths before she ran into greater dangers. Darkness was out there, and she knew it all too well. Imperial or Rebellion, it mattered not.</s>
<\|description\|>Ja'vi Harkan Species: Twi'lek Age: 25 Planet of Origin/Birth: Unknown, she doesn't remember. Force Sensitive Y/N: Yes Appearance: (Training Lightsaber is Defunct and hidden.) Skills/Abilities:-Healer- Although she is not a masterful user of the Force compared to even a Padawan, Ja'van is able to use it to help hasten the healing of injuries or slowing the rate by which they cause death. Enabling her to buy time to save lives. -Ja'vi be Nimble, Ja'vi be Quick- Being a creature that is slender and light of feet, she is quite skilled in acrobatic feats. She treads lightly, and is adept in being stealthy and sticking to the shadows in patience waiting for a vulnerability to take advantage of. -Speeder Bike Pilot- With the uncanny reactivity that force sensitivity has given her, Ja'vi is an insanely skilled Speeder Bike pilot. -Still Learning the Ways - After abandoning Coruscant and escaping to the outer-rim to try and find and aid rebels, she has restarted the meditations she had came to know as a youngling. It has granted her extremely limited use of the force in the form of slight increases to reaction time and the ability to move small objects with the Force. Though she would only ever use it in the case of a truly dire emergency as it tends to get her noticed more than she'd like. -Quick Wits that Stay Steady- Even though she is not very practiced on the field of battle, she has the uncanny ability to stay cool under significant pressure. Whether it's the ability to think clearly while under fire and similar situations. -Small Arms Crack Shot- Having gained some practice while wandering the universe in search of the rebellion, Ja'vi has become quite a decent shot with some of the weapons. Particularly the pistol, as the Rifle often feels to cumbersome for her to like. -Duelist- Even though she hasn't had much practice with a Lightsaber, she's quite good with various kinds of blades due to her nimbleness and dexterity. She carries a pair of Vibro-Blades (short swords) on her back instead, of which she uses with great effectiveness in close quarters combat. With such fluidity is this, that those who have seen her fight in such a manner oft say that she moves like a Jedi. Equipment:- Blaster Pistol x 1 - Vibro Blades x 2 - Standard Issue Rebellion Helmet and Blaster Armor Psychological Profile:Calm and steady of mind. Benevolent, but strict. Ja'vi cares deeply for those that surround her and does her best to insure their well being. If someone hurts those she cares for however, her tendencies can swing into the outright defiant...or even ferocious. The Tranquility of the Light Side is hard to instill within her. History: Her first memory was the hand of a strange looking man reaching down to her amongst blinding sunlight. As a child, she was swept up by the Jedi as a recruit during the horrors of the Clone Wars. They had discovered her to be rather credibly sensitive to the invisible will that governed the flow of life and will in the universe. Her midichlorian count was high, but not incredible akin to the masterfulness of Yoda, or the prodigal Anakin Skywalker. She was destined not to become a Master, she was destined to become a Knight. She was barely a youngling when the insidious Order 66 was issued. One of the very few fortunate enough to escape into the alleyways of Coruscant in the first few minutes of the Great Purge, Ja'vi lived a fearful life that was constantly on the run until she found someone who took pity on her. A Doctor, a kind, benevolent man who had taken The Doctor's Oath in ages past. He hid her away from those who hunted her, fulfilling the oath that he held concerning helping those in need. She lived in hiding then for many years until her adoptive father decided that it would be safer for them to move to the outer rim. On the way there, she was separated from him in an unfortunate accident. From then on as a young teenaged girl living on the outer rim, she lived a life of risk and danger of falling into enslavement; until one day she won a Speeder Bike from an unwitting man in a game of chance. This was the moment that she discovered her knack for such a task. Tearing through jungles and oft escaping death by mere hairs of a distance, the nimble girl took her talents to blurring past on-planet outposts of Imperial Guards as a small-time smuggler of small, insanely valuable and illicit goods. So competent was she in this, that as she grew older, the former Youngling eventually obtained the attention of the Rebellion. They sought her for her ability to sneak past or outrun those who pursued her. And one day, she awoke not in the hovel of her hideout, but instead a eerily quite and cold chamber with a bag over her head. Once she stirred, it was removed, and she was suddenly face to face with members of the Rebellion. More than willingly for the sins cast upon her from the past, she joined their cause. Thankfully they did not know what she actually was, and they paid fairly well. Through basic training she never fared well, except for in the close-quarters setting of combat. There she became known as a monstrosity. Not much longer, the former youngling would find herself on the front lines of a messy, bloody conflict; and she was more than willing to put her blades to work. Yes, and:This is a bit of a writing exercise; how your character relates to the character posted above yours. It should be something incidental, and can easily involve antipathies and disagreements. It's almost like a 'how they met' sort of exercise.</s> <\|message\|>Saleen Re'Revoure "A jedi?" Saleen said as she cocked her head slightly to the side, taking a moment to simply stare at the twi'lek. Although Ja'vi had originally met her with a sudden and harsh glare that was most unusual for the normally stoic alien, she now looked to be literally pleading with her eyes. Her eyes had grown almost to resemble that of puppy eyes, and Saleen felt that she was dangerously close to almost feeling genuine sympathy for the twi'lek! "Please, you cannot tell a soul!" Saleen gazed back at Ja'vi, whilst moving a hand up to rub her jaw as she contemplated the matter. "Well, at least I finally got her to talk!" She was not unfamiliar with the concept of jedi. Indeed, she had seen them in countless movies and video games back on her time during Coruscant, and even seen some on the street. That was at least until the new government had stepped in, and orchestrated something not far off from a holocaust against their order. She had never actually met a jedi face to face. The idea that she was now talking to one was both cool, and at the same time, a little worrisome! Jedi were known for their dangerous lightsabers capable of slicing through any material, as well as wicked mind powers with which they could wreathe unfathomable destruction. "Maaaaaybe I shouldn't be standing so close to this one! I mean, if she should turn hostile... !" "I am going to assume that the thing you're trying to hide from me was a lightsaber, wasn't it?" Saleen asked with a slight smirk on her face as she gently nodded towards the twi'lek's clothes where she had last seen the cylindrical device. Tossing the door behind her a quick glance to see if it was shut, Saleen would look back at the twi'lek with a small smile. "Can I see it?"</s> <\|message\|>Slooga Besadii Nem'ro Captain (Navy) Probos Hud was the new G-3 for Vanguard, replacing his rather more complacent predecessor after the latter's relief, and the sectors it operated out of, which was roughly the region between Ziost and Jabiim, with a broad mandate to disrupt whatever he could with the limited forces available to his command. The most important element of that mandate was to do whatever it took to prevent Mon Calamari, the planet that provided the Alliance's best shipyards, from direct attack or at least to make the theoretical supply lines for such an attack look too daunting to undertake. So he wasn't impressed when a Captain (Army) Ornestes of Alliance Intelligence was briefing him on a botched mission involving one of his ships having to cut and run real fast from a Victory-class star destroyer that lay in waiting -- his forces, to the mind of the Duros, were supposed to be the ones with the element of surprise. "Captain, I will make this clear," Hud told him in the straightforward way the Duros tended to have, the confidence of being one of the first starfaring races, "My predecessor was slack and sat on his ass and was happy to detach forces to your operations. I am not. I need every swinging tentacle in my command to carry out -my- operations. Also, that Ganatoo station mission was a wash on all fronts -- it was only because one Lieutenant Byron sent out a separate team to tap the traffic control at the same time that they were running this funny Hutt deal, acting like a palace guard for a washed-up crime lord, that my forces managed to discover the threat and got out." "Be that as it may," Ornestes started. "Please sit, Captain," Hud ordered/requested, "And allow me to explain the facts of life." Ornestes, who was something like three grades beneath a Navy captain, did so. It was hard to read Duros expressions, at least for a human, because they were blue-faced, golden-eyed and had no noses. It took a person experienced with their expressions to really read them. All the same, they were not some provincial species -- the Duros were far-flung, with colonies all over the galaxy, and their homeworld in the core. They often acted like they invented the hyperdrive, and certainly loved to make use of it. "All Intelligence requests for my forces will be routed through me. The plans will be submitted to me. They will be vetted by myself and my staff before the forces you require are given their orders. I agree that uploading virii into the Imperial traffic control computers is a useful mission and will put my chop on it when I see an appropriate plan. By 'appropriate' I mean any plan that does not involve that Hutt." "But sir, Slooga..." "Is washed up and has a price on his head big enough for his former contacts to turn on him. He's not really a powerful Hutt Lord anymore. I am reliably informed that his ship is in the alliance with or without him. For the sake of appearances, we'll keep Slooga because he might be useful in the future, but have no illusions, Captain, we are not here to facilitate his grandiose plans of a return to glory. We're here to fight the Empire." "Yes sir," Ornestes said, somewhat stiffly, "I understand." "Good, now I'd like to turn your attention," he hit a button and the room darkened and a holodisplay came up, "to this; Operation Bantha Poacher." The Intruder, a squadron of Y-Wings, Buccaneer squadron, and, of course, 1st Platoon in the vanguard...</s>	<\|message\|>Ja'vi Harkan Ja'vi - Show and Tell? Behind her set jaw, there was a sense of worry that lingered in the corner of her mind. Was this woman going to report her or not? Instead of hated and suspicion that she thought would be there, the Twi'lek was met with something else entirely; something that she didn't expect. There was curiosity. Whether or not it was genuine was another matter, but the woman wanted to see something that she had kept hidden from so many. Yet with her inquiry came a slight, weary smile from Ja'vi. It wasn't as if she had a choice now in this moment, she had to take the chance with this woman. Otherwise, the consequences could even be more dire. Reaching into her loose-fitting robes, she retrieved the long, slender device. Carefully, she set it into Saleen's outstretched hand for her to inspect it. "It isn't a full-fledged saber." The former youngling softly stated, looking upward at the behemoth of a human woman. "It was only a training saber from my days as an initiate, nothing more. Even still, it's dysfunctional and broken. With a new gem I could make an actual Lightsaber...but that is proving to be a task beyond my ability." Once Saleen had held it long enough to make the Twi'lek nervous, she lightly plucked it away from the grasp of the human and tucked it back away beneath her clothing. "It...it doesn't matter. I'm simply here to help the rebellion as best as I can. That is all that matters. Shall we move on?" Motioning for the human to follow, she gracefully strode through the corridors of the Intruder to arrive at the ship's armory. There, she would scavenge through the last of the spare parts that had been retrieved. More particularly, a newer battery for her blaster pistol. She had never been a fan of rifles or heavier weapons. Too heavy, too cumbersome, and too showy. She preferred subtlety for a reason, after all. Blades rather than blasters, even her pistol was more of a last support. If only she could find a smaller, compact power source for her other work in progress...</s>
<\|description\|>Alex Taylor Age: 14 Gender: Male Appearance: (Description or picture allowed): Red Hair, wears a hat. Has a light color T-Shirt with a Red vest over it. Always wears Jeans and Sneakers when out. Starts Wearing Fingerless gloves after his time in the 12th Gunpla Battle Tournament. Average height for his age, so he'd be shorter than those who are older than him. Nationality: United States of America Backstory: Born in the West coast of America, Alex Taylor had been a fan of Gundam since he had watched his first Gundam Series, Gundam SEED. When he was 9, after watching the 7th Gunpla Battle Tournament on TV, he had wanted to become a Gunpla Fighter and Builder, but had no idea what his first model will be. However, the next year, he had lost his Mother and Father in an accident, just days after obtaining his first model kit, an AGE-1 Normal Gundam from the series Gundam AGE. He was then cared for by a family that was friends with his parents, the same family that has his closest friend (and possible Girlfriend) Jo. By his 14th birthday, without proper tools, he was able to finish constructing his own custom unit from his kit he had received from his parents, the Star AGE Gundam. Despite not being well put together like other builders, he was able to take that unit all the way to victory in the 12th Gunpla Battle Tournament. His victory my be in due to a little help from his unique 6th sense he had developed after his first ever Gunpla Battle. Though victorious in the tournament, due to many close battles, he felt that he had still much to learn, and wouldn't be well known due to the exploits of other builders and fighters like the famous Meiji Kawaguchi and Sei Iori (who weren't at the tournament (based off what i know so far) ). He accepted an inventation to Yajima Tradings summer program at Neilsen Labs hoping to learn how to become both a better builder and better fighter, and to meet many other builders and become friends and rivals, taking the Star AGE Gundam with him. He'll often write home about his time there to his friend/girlfriend (He hasn't say yet). Other information: Seeing the modified GAT-X105 Strike Gundam custom, Sei Iori's Build Strike Gundam, Alex feels any basic unit can have a strong potential if piloted and built right, hence why he pilots a custom AGE-1 Normal. He has a soft weak spot for pretty girls, but he doesn't let this get over him if he's battling them in Gunpla Battle. Also he states that his favorite female character in the gundam series is Lacus Clyne from Gundam SEED. Main Gunpla: St/AGE-1 Star AGE Gundam. Can add on equipment to become the St/AGE-1FGA Star AGE Gundam: Full Glansa Assault Scale: 1/144 HG + Scratch Based from: AGE-1 Normal and AGE-1G Glansa Equipment and Weapons: Star AGE Gundam: DODS Rifle, 2x Beam Sabers, Anti-Beam Shield, Forward Swept Wing flight pack, "Starlight" Program. Star AGE Gundam Full Glansa Assault: Twin Shield Rifles, DODS Rifle, Beam Rifle Ax, 2x Beam Sabers, Twin Glansa Launchers, Twin High Impulse Cannons, 6 Glansa Armor missile pods, Twin 3 missile pod launchers, Glansa Armor (can detach to form standard Star AGE Gundam), "Starlight" Program. If you have a picture, feel free to post it up. St/AGE-1 Star AGE Gundam St/AGE-1FGA Star AGE Gundam: Full Glansa Assault Other Gunpla: RX-79T [G] Terra Gundam Ground Type, New model planned later in RP</s> <\|message\|>Alex Taylor Space… the sight of the next battlefield. Ships from both factions of the Earth Federation of the Universal Century and ships of the Orb Union of Gundam SEED fire up a massive anti air battery towards their enemy. Multiple GM's and M1 Astray's were trying to advance forward, but some retreat and then a few had been shot from behind and destroyed. Soon one of the alliances Izumo-class main ships was destroyed when it took a direct hit to the bridge. Then a Salamis-class ship takes heavy damage from multiple missiles. An officer cries on the radio: "The enemy has broken through the 2nd defense line! They're going to overrun us!" The cries cut out when the Salamis explodes. Multiple enemy mobile suits, Geara Zulu's, slowly push in towards the final defensive line. One admiral calls out on the radio: "Send out the reinforcements! Contact the White Base!" Pulling out from behind the final defensive line were two ships, the ever famous White Base from Mobile Suit Gundam, and the Archangel from Mobile Suit Gundam SEED. Captain Bright Noa comes onto the radio: "This is Captain Bright Noa. Request acknowledge. Launching the reinforcements!" Both launch bays on the two ships open up, sending out their suits. Two suits that came out of the White Base that were most notable were the Exia and the Musha Gundam. From the Archangle, a Brave suit launches out. The last suit is preparing to launch out of the catapult. The captain of the Archangel, Murrue Ramius, contacts the pilot of the suit: "Our forces are spread thin. We're counting on you and your team to push the enemy back." The pilot, wearing the Orb pilot outfit that Kira Yamato wore in Gundam SEED Destiny, responds: "Not to worry Captain Ramius, you can count on the Gundam Team." The catapult's countdown turns green, ready to launch as the pilot reveals himself responding: "Alex Taylor. Star AGE Gundam. LAUNCHING NOW!" The Gundam accelerates on the catapult till it flies out into open space. The suit flies towards the enemy's attack force, firing off a few rounds from its DODS rifle, taking out several Geara Zulu's. The other units were quickly and easily taking out the other enemy Zulu suits. Alex gets the allies attention: "All units regroup! We're taking the fight to the enemy!" GM's and Astray's all-around rally towards the 4 suits leading the charge. It looked like they were gonna push back the attack. Alex talks to himself: "Now to find the enemy commander of the attack. Where could he…" Suddenly, something big starts to slowly rise up, blocking the sun in front of the pilots. It was shadowed well so it was hard to see what it was exactly. Alex was shocked: "What in the world is that??" He heard one thing that made him worry more: "HARO!!!" Alex: "What's going on?! Captain? Can anyone hear me?!" Before he could wonder what was going on, his suit's alarm rings, alerting him to above, which was a giant hand coming towards him. Alex eyes sink as well as his heart. Then…. Alex cries out: "GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!" Thud! Next thing Alex knew… he had fallen out of his bed, flat on his back onto the ground. After falling onto the floor, his elbow had hit the desk next to his bed, knocking over a round object... a Haro alarm clock. The second after it landed, 8:00 AM strikes, and the Haro acts up: "Haro! Good Morning Haro! Time to get up! Time to get up!" Alex quietly says with a bit of an annoyed tone: "Thanks Haro…" Chapter 2: Straight assembly skills.</s> <\|message\|>Rou Gernot/Ball Guy Rou groaned loudly and began tossing anything nearby at the fiendish sound. "Alex turn that thing OFF!" he mumbled as he lazily rolled off the side of the bed. He kicked off the sweatpants he slept in and put on a pair of jeans before putting on a bright and tacky Tokusou Sentai Dekranger shirt. Rou sat on the bed and adjusted his hat on top of his head. "What's the plan today, Alex?" He said amidst a yawn.</s> <\|message\|>Alexis Voll Alexis slept well enough, and when she awoke she got dressed and ready for class, tucking her Exia away in the hip mounted carrying case she'd been using since she started battling seriously. The Strike Freedom, while repaired, and even tuned a bit, was not something she wanted to use regularly, besides, she wanted to cut lose with her 'partner' in the next battle, when ever that was gonna be.</s> <\|message\|>Alex Taylor All Alex did was groan. The PA system rings with a morning tone followed by an announcement: "Good Morning everyone. The mess hall is now open for breakfast. And remember, Class starts at 10:00 AM."</s> <\|message\|>Sakuya Kawashiro Sakuya yawned as she stretched once more she was already out and at it. Despite everything she woke up early to get some extra work done on her gunpla. Looking down at her Seravee she smirked her partner through thick and thin and with the recent upgrades it should be better than ever. Pushing up her rimless glasses and standing up she stretched a bit pulling up her thigh high light purple socks she straightened out her clothes before slipping on her Tieria jacket. It made her only look more like said character sure but she didn't mind after all the mere fact she looked like a female Tieria normally got most gundam fans over the top about it. Lifting up a small suit case she opened it up revealing a padded foam covering it. She gently placed her Seravee Panzer into its spot before looking a bit sadly at the spot next to it. Lying there was a modified Gerbera Tetra it was badly damaged but for some reason she could not bring herself to fix it just yet though underneath was a hidden gunpla one she did not want to really show. Shaking those thoughts from her head she quietly closed the case perhaps she could get a small match in she woke up early to fix her gunpla missing the last set of matches because of such but now it was time to shine she thought. "The lightning count" was what they called her basing her strategies and fighting style similar to Milliardo. Perhaps it was time to show them that she was not as "washed out" or "dead" as they claimed. Though hearing the news for breakfast broke that chain of thought as she went to the mess hall for some food. Perhaps this time she could actually find someone to interact with she thought. While she went to the line and waited for her turn to get her breakfast. Grabbing her breakfast of corned beef hash with toast and eggs she sat down with a bottle of orange juice as she went to eat. Though she did place her gunpla case on the table besides her. Best to keep it in sight than misplace it was her main train of thought as she noticed more people filing in for food.</s> <\|message\|>Rou Gernot/Ball Guy Rou grabbed his backpack and hastily threw in his Ball Guy outfit before Alex could see. He packed in his Brave in one case and his Balls in another. All his tools were in order as he shouldered his bag. Rou left the room and headed for the breakfast hall. He wasn't going to eat anything. If not for the academy schedule he wouldn't even be awake until it was time for a late lunch. Day Two of his quest to become a more social butterfly dawned on him, and he scanned the room for anyone he could make an acquaintance to. Immediately his eye for the strange spotted him a girl sporting a style very similar to Tiera from Gundam 00. Go big or go home. Rou sat down in front of her, setting his bag next to his foot. He exhaled and prepared himself by clearing his throat. "Um. Hi. I don't think I saw you at the opening ceremony or in the battle room yesterday." Rou paused, catching himself and nervously adjusting his hat. "I'm Rou...by the way. Is that your Gunpla?" He said motioning towards the case.</s> <\|message\|>Alexis Voll Alexis walked into the mess hall, not really hungry, but was best to eat something to keep hunger from getting in the way later. As she looked around while crunching into an apple she saw, Tiera? Likely some girl cosplaying as him. Not a bad rendition of him ether. Alexis tossed the apple core into the trash, loaded up a plate of hash-browns and scrambled eggs and bacon, she thought about going over and talking to the fellow 00 fan, but some one else was already talking to her, so Alexis decided to not be rude and found a seat and start eating.</s>	<\|message\|>Alex Taylor For Alex, the morning is evil. He had always slept in during the morning, hence why he was almost late everytime he had to go to school. Were it not for Jo, he'd really be late. However, if he wanted breakfast, he had to go get it. There were many people in the room, familiar and unfamiliar, however he was too tired to figure out who he knew. So far it was the third day here at the academy. Yesterday, the classes were just brief explanations about what they were going to do and how the system worked, followed by lunch. All the classmates had to also fill out a form with a question asking: "What Gunpla model would they like to build that was straight forward?", and that's it. For the rest of that day, Alex did nothing but play a few Gunpla battles with others. Two fights he had won, but they were pretty close, and he had not activated his Star AGE Gundam's "Starlight" program. He had not seen this cosplay guy that Rou and some others had mentioned, but that was likely due to having done a few sparring battles with his roommate and his Brave Gunpla. They must have battled about half a dozen times, and each one ended in a draw due to the time limit. So much time had passed that he didn't get a chance to go get snacks at the convenient store. Well there's always today. However, he wasn't thinking too much about what'll happen today, he's just too busy trying to stay awake. Hopefully a plate of some scrambled eggs, Buttermilk pancakes and a cup of Apple Juice would help get his energy. Though he didn't realize someone had come up to him.</s>
<\|description\|>Alex Taylor Age: 14 Gender: Male Appearance: (Description or picture allowed): Red Hair, wears a hat. Has a light color T-Shirt with a Red vest over it. Always wears Jeans and Sneakers when out. Starts Wearing Fingerless gloves after his time in the 12th Gunpla Battle Tournament. Average height for his age, so he'd be shorter than those who are older than him. Nationality: United States of America Backstory: Born in the West coast of America, Alex Taylor had been a fan of Gundam since he had watched his first Gundam Series, Gundam SEED. When he was 9, after watching the 7th Gunpla Battle Tournament on TV, he had wanted to become a Gunpla Fighter and Builder, but had no idea what his first model will be. However, the next year, he had lost his Mother and Father in an accident, just days after obtaining his first model kit, an AGE-1 Normal Gundam from the series Gundam AGE. He was then cared for by a family that was friends with his parents, the same family that has his closest friend (and possible Girlfriend) Jo. By his 14th birthday, without proper tools, he was able to finish constructing his own custom unit from his kit he had received from his parents, the Star AGE Gundam. Despite not being well put together like other builders, he was able to take that unit all the way to victory in the 12th Gunpla Battle Tournament. His victory my be in due to a little help from his unique 6th sense he had developed after his first ever Gunpla Battle. Though victorious in the tournament, due to many close battles, he felt that he had still much to learn, and wouldn't be well known due to the exploits of other builders and fighters like the famous Meiji Kawaguchi and Sei Iori (who weren't at the tournament (based off what i know so far) ). He accepted an inventation to Yajima Tradings summer program at Neilsen Labs hoping to learn how to become both a better builder and better fighter, and to meet many other builders and become friends and rivals, taking the Star AGE Gundam with him. He'll often write home about his time there to his friend/girlfriend (He hasn't say yet). Other information: Seeing the modified GAT-X105 Strike Gundam custom, Sei Iori's Build Strike Gundam, Alex feels any basic unit can have a strong potential if piloted and built right, hence why he pilots a custom AGE-1 Normal. He has a soft weak spot for pretty girls, but he doesn't let this get over him if he's battling them in Gunpla Battle. Also he states that his favorite female character in the gundam series is Lacus Clyne from Gundam SEED. Main Gunpla: St/AGE-1 Star AGE Gundam. Can add on equipment to become the St/AGE-1FGA Star AGE Gundam: Full Glansa Assault Scale: 1/144 HG + Scratch Based from: AGE-1 Normal and AGE-1G Glansa Equipment and Weapons: Star AGE Gundam: DODS Rifle, 2x Beam Sabers, Anti-Beam Shield, Forward Swept Wing flight pack, "Starlight" Program. Star AGE Gundam Full Glansa Assault: Twin Shield Rifles, DODS Rifle, Beam Rifle Ax, 2x Beam Sabers, Twin Glansa Launchers, Twin High Impulse Cannons, 6 Glansa Armor missile pods, Twin 3 missile pod launchers, Glansa Armor (can detach to form standard Star AGE Gundam), "Starlight" Program. If you have a picture, feel free to post it up. St/AGE-1 Star AGE Gundam St/AGE-1FGA Star AGE Gundam: Full Glansa Assault Other Gunpla: RX-79T [G] Terra Gundam Ground Type, New model planned later in RP</s> <\|message\|>Alex Taylor Alex was getting excited, thinking about what her mainstay was: "I'll be looking forward to that day." Right then, the clock struck 10:00. The door near the front opens up, and in comes Instructor Ran, he was shorter than the other instructors for sure, but he would have that look on his face that showed fierce determination when talking about Gunpla Building. He stands behind the main desk and begins: "Good morning students. I'm glad to see you are all here on time. For those who had breakfast late and brought food, not to worry, you are allowed to eat anything as long as it doesn't disrupt the class or your work." Alex thought in his mind: "Being able to eat while in class. Best. Class. Ever." Ran continues: "As you know, yesterday we just went through a brief run through of how this class will work. Today, we will begin with the first lesson related to Gunpla. Building the model. Now, if you recall, yesterday you had filled out a form asking about what model you would like to build if had one. Thanks to the nearby model store for donating supplies..." He motions to the door, which slides open and Instructor Johnson walks in, pushing a cart filled with dozens upon dozens of Gunpla boxes as Ran continues: "We have gotten every model that was requested by you. As of today, these kits belong to you. You must take very good care of them and will be constantly evaluated throughout the course of the academy." Some of the students were whispering, some were surprised. Others like Alexis however were aware about something like this since yesterday. One of the student's raised their hand asking: "Are we allowed to modify anything, like add equipment and such." Ran knew someone would ask that and answers: "The answer, is a big N-O. No. The models here are intended to be built straight from the box. You can only equip the model with equipment that came in the box. Anything added on that is not in the original model, and the builder will flunk this part of the course." Most of the students all replied with: "WHAT?!" They weren't expecting this at all. The instructor knew he would have to better explain this: "This is all necessary for becoming better builders, and in turn it will help you become better fighters. For some of you, you do have plenty of experience with model building. For others, this is a chance to relearn what you have learned, with secrets and tips that we will share to make what comes out of the box, more appealing. Sometimes it takes just the smallest tune of the poly cap or sanding down parts that will make all the difference." Another students decides to ask: "Are we allowed to custom paint them?" Ran looks at Johnson, and both nod as Johnson decides to answer: "After today, you are allowed to custom color the units as long as you follow the rule of not adding any new equipment." Ran then continues: "Now, we will start by passing out everyone's Gunpla kits. Each box will have your name written on the side." With that, Ran and Johnson begin passing out kits to the students. The models were all over the series, with those from Mobile Suit Gundam, to Gundam Wing, 00 Gundam, Gundam Unicorn, Victory Gundam, G Gundam, Gundam SEED, and Zeta Gundam. You named it, there was likely a suit from it in the pile.</s> <\|message\|>Dani Hatashi Dani had only a few bites left of her sandwich but cleared out her mouth of the food by swallowing again. She held up her hand with a question. "The model trees that the parts come off of, are we allowed to use them in the kit? And second questions: Why are we not allowed to modify them? The Meijin's own stance on Gunpla is that 'Gunpla is freedom'. I understand the values of just doing a straight build, but there becomes a point where any gunpla builder that competes in the championship will modify their gunpla in the slightest to accomodate personal fighting style and taste. If it truly is our gunpla that we live through, then why must we mold ourselves to stone designs and comprimise what our style might be instead of reaching amidway point with the model? Even after some time in the class, there has to be a point where we can modify them and allow us to be graded upon what we have done to improve the suit beyond its own capabilities. Respectfully ofcourse." she commented, taking a breath after finishing her wall of words. "This also isn't to forget the abilities of such gunpla that possess the AGE system, which itself is almost vital to the sucess of the gunpla, since the gunpla itself is developing equipment to suit its current needs. In that respect, one could say adding equipment to an age gundam would simply be following the model's own design." The girl added quickly.</s> <\|message\|>Alexis Voll As Dani went on her tangent, Alexis got up to go collect ... what ever kit it was she wrote down. She literally had no idea what she wrote down, so when she got to her turn and the teachers aid handed her an RG Wing Zero Custom she was a little surprised. Kit in hand she went back to her seat. "Apparently ... I picked Wing Zero." she said as she showed the box with the angelic Gundam to Dani.</s> <\|message\|>Sakuya Kawashiro Sakuya heard all of the murmers from the crowed and as she thought about it from one standpoint it made sense it would allow them to gain better control and knowledge on limited items and so forth. Though also going by that they also limit the growth of a person as a builder and a fighter. "Sir I dont mean to speak up but doing this seems counter productive. I admit using a straight build has its benefits though it also limits the fighter. Gunpla should grow and change along with pilot as they learn what works and what doesn't they learn the limits of their gunpla and as such will try to reach out more. Which they do through modification of the gunpla adding to it and losing pieces all the while making it more in tune with the pilot." Sakuya spoke up it was honestly bothering a little bit though as she grabbed her model box of the XM-X1 Crossbone Gundam X-1 Kai Kai "Skull Heart" otherwise known as the Crossbone Gundam Full Cloth. This was her personal favorite gundam it was fast and with good defense not to mention its main weapons were designed for multiple situations allowing it to cover all main fields since it could attack with both short range and long range.</s> <\|message\|>Alex Taylor The class was nearly quiet till Johnson starts to talk: "Well Ms. Hatashi, you are indeed right. Gunpla is freedom. No doubt you take the ideas passed by the Meijin. I know what we ask for you, for all of you to do may be something you're not used to. However, just by having a unit that goes beyond the limits of imagination, does not mean you are always guaranteed for success in battle." This was based on personal experience the two had encountered. A while back, they had witnessed a fight where one piloted used an HG model of a Geara Zulu, just straight built and nothing added on, and it fought two customized units from the After War Gundam X timeline... and the Zulu defeated both opponents without much damage to it. Taking the boy who won under their wing, teaching some hidden tricks, training with time in straight assembly units and soon combining it with a Gunpla he would later customized, he was nearly invincible. Even Alex was aware of how the slightest changes could improve performance, since he had fought most of his battles with his Star AGE gundam being almost nothing more than a recolored AGE-1 Normal. Even after adding both the Starlight program and also the Glansa armor, the AGE was still technically close to being a straight assembly model. Ran explains as well: "But not everything ever goes perfect. Anything that could possibly go wrong will go wrong, and that's when you must trust on the skills you have yourself, but if you trust on the equipment too much, that will cause you to fail. We should know. After all, we saw a straight assembly model of a Geara Zulu take on two custom Gundams from the Gundam X series, and defeat them both with only light damage to the suit."</s> <\|message\|>Dani Hatashi "With all due respect sensei, that's a fallacy you're using to defend your point with your experience. All number of factors go into winning a battle, a suit's quality is one thing and so is a fighter's capabilities, field being another and so on and so forth. Skills in battle can carry you with a straight build and that is acceptable to some people. Others love Gunpla for what it is and how you can express yourself with it, which brings me to my next point." she explained to the teachers. This is when she put her chair into motion and drove across the room to fetch her Victory 2 Buster Assault gundam. Then she drove her wheelchair back across the room and to her position before resuming her comment. "Now i never claimed that it could bring success just because it was custom, my concern is that, much echoing the other female who spoke after myself, that the best results come from being as closely in tune with your gunpla as possible so that you know every movement and inch of it without having to consciously conform to it." Hatashi explained, gingerly setting down the box. "I will say this and swear by it. If i fight you with this straight build, either of you two professors, you won't feel much. But the second Block is on the field, you will find my heart and soul in that gunpla. It is exactly in the image i want it to be and i only see myself out there on the field, fighting the others. I may have lost my ability to walk a few years ago, but i've found and now live gunpla out on the field and even in the heat of battle. I can express my feelings, emotions, desires and walk out there." the girl continued on in her speech as her eyes had fires roaring behind them now. "So unless you love those straight build gunpla as much as yourself or your own children, i challenge you to try and defeat my spirit the gunpla i built brings to the field." she said, putting a fist to her chest and over her own heart in her determination and solidity. "My offer is open any time."</s> <\|message\|>Alexis Voll Alexis snickered "Oh I'd paid money to see the looks on those guys faces." she commented as she pushed her glasses up and started going over the parts trees and instructions. "And speaking form my own experiences, skill is much more likely to get you the win then some fancy gimmick. or gimmicks, in some cases." she added to the instructors point. With all the parts accounted for she put the bottom in the lid, with the lid facing down so she could start grabbing parts once they could start building.</s>	<\|message\|>Alex Taylor All Ran replied was: "I believe you're going to fit in quiet well here Ms. Hatashi." Alex went over to pick up his box. As he turns, Instrustor Ran whispers to him: "You can learn a lot from her. As I'm sure she can learn from you Mr. Taylor." Alex was a bit confused on what he mean by that, but heads back over to the desk. With the models gathered, Ran continued: "Alright. At each of your desks, you have all the basic tools you'll need to help put together your models. You also will have some more advanced tools for those who are better skilled with putting together Gunpla. If you need anything, just call, and one of us will come over to help out. Take all the time you need to put together your model." Alex sits down back at his seat and asks: "So what did you two get for models?"</s>
<\|description\|>Rou Gernot/Ball Guy Age: 17 Gender: M Appearance: Normal: Rou wears a large black Kamen Rider baseball cap that shades his green eyes and makes his black shaggy hair fan out to shoulder length. He often forgets to shave. He wears a short sleeved button up shirt that is usually left open to show whatever Toku/Anime shirt he has chosen to wear for the day. His light blue jeans are a little stained and torn, but still decent. Ball Guy: Rou's alter ego is modeled after his Toku heroes. Ball Guy's outfit consists of a stark white spandex suit and a plastic helmet that sports a red hexagon and a green opaque visor. On top of the helmet is a small pair of mini turret "antennas". Nationality: American Backstory: All his life Rou has loved Tokusatsu heroes and giant robots, especially combiners. He began collecting Super Sentai robots, gunpla and merchandise when he was 8 and his collection is still growing. He can quote Riders, sing theme songs, and name any mobile suit. However, his biggest problem is that he can rarely discuss his hobbies due to his timidness. This was onset by his first gunpla battle at the local hobby shop. Rou built a simple GM to test the waters of the new game. He was stomped and ridiculed for his inexperience, and quickly left the shop and never returned. He longed for companions to help him. Better yet, a team. Despite his trepidation, he attempted to find friends at a different hobby shop. He laid low, but no one really stood out to him. Rou began to only fight matches in private, fearing what the audience would say about his skills. Struggling to overcome his fear of confrontation and people, Rou discovered that he wasn't too timid if the opponent didn't know who he was. He began planning a cosplay suit to hide his identity, but could not seem to fathom what mobile suit to base it from. Rou surveyed his shelf. He wanted something simple. Zaku? Nah, cliche. BCUE? Too animalistic. His eyes finally rested on something he constantly over looked. The quaint little cannon fodder known as the Ball. It was perfect. Rou's skills were good enough that he could hold his own with such a puny gunpla, ad it fit his hero theme quite nicely. He finished his suit in a week and went to the shop. People stared, but no one knew who he actually was, and it made Rou feel so much more comfortable. "Ball Guy" was what they called him. He didn't win many matches, but he was well known and rather liked, even if he was just acting like a "gaudy super hero". Rou decided that a simple upgrade would not suffice. He needed something extra. Then it dawned on his. What about...extra balls? IF that was the case then he would need a Flash system, and that's something that an ordinary Ball wouldn't be able to handle. Rou brainstormed. Balls were what made him so renowned in his town, he couldn't just stop using one. He crafted for weeks and weeks until he found a solution. The transforming ball! he could still use the Flash system as a Gundam, but still look like a ball. Weeks later, his prototype was complete. In a private match he quickly lost ground, but once he transformed his Ball, his opponent dropped like a rock. Now he just needed to know how to use his backup Balls. Constantly controlling them would be tedious and require immense effort. As he wracked his brain, the Super Sentai show running in the back ground showed a scene of them calling their mecha together. It was miraculous, and it fit Rou's personality perfectly. He was going to make a Ball Sentai. He began winning his local matches, preferring to keep his Ball Squad's ability a secret. It was for only those eyes he thought deserving. Learning of his fame, he was invited to Neilsen Labs to participate, signing up under the guise "Ball Guy", to keep his identity a secret for just a little longer. The suit had become a crutch, but its ability to keep him calm in social situations was invaluable. Other information: Rou changes into costume before every match, or constantly wears it if expecting challenges. Main Gunpla: Round Sentai: Ball Squad!/DAI-BALL-OH! Scale: 1/144 Based from: Balls Equipment and Weapons: Fireworks hidden in the tubes of each Ball arm. (Gotta be flashy right?). When combined into a single unit, all attributes are increased due to combined power output and source. Brigadier Ball (Red Stripe): The Ball Rou Controls and uses to command his squad. It is capable of transforming into a Gundam-esque mobile suit to combine with the rest of the balls to form DAI-BALL-OH!. Chest can fire an extremely powerful beam when connected to the other Balls as power sources. Blade Ball (Blue Stripe): Right arm of DAI-BALL-OH!. Equipped with four beam beam sabers to be wielded. Unfoldable hand. Blaster Ball (Green Stripe): Left arm of DAI-BALL-OH!. Equipped with twin beam rifles. A hand folds out from underneath when attached. Bomb Ball (Yellow Stripe) Legs of DAI-BALL-OH!. Equipped with four tri missile pods, two on each side. Added support on bottom to be used as feet. Booster Ball (Pink Stripe): Unfolds to become the backpack and cape for DAI-BALL-OH!, very fast but otherwise useless in combat. Other Gunpla: Name: Brave Knight Based From: GNX- Brave Appearance: Silvery gray. Same basic format, but with some more regal additions like a thin cape and a knights visor on the face that hides the green mono eye and a green feather plume. The upper arms and legs have been beefed up. The Astray Tactical Arms serve as the backpack and as a weapon. Armaments: GN Lance (Thinner and longer) Beam Rapier Tactical Arms (Arm blades (3 pairs) and Bow mode) Wrist vulcans Feet daggers (Al-la Blue Frame) Beam Shield Royal Mode (Half strength Trans Am but double the duration) Flight mode</s> <\|message\|>Rou Gernot/Ball Guy Rou groaned loudly and began tossing anything nearby at the fiendish sound. "Alex turn that thing OFF!" he mumbled as he lazily rolled off the side of the bed. He kicked off the sweatpants he slept in and put on a pair of jeans before putting on a bright and tacky Tokusou Sentai Dekranger shirt. Rou sat on the bed and adjusted his hat on top of his head. "What's the plan today, Alex?" He said amidst a yawn.</s> <\|message\|>Alexis Voll Alexis slept well enough, and when she awoke she got dressed and ready for class, tucking her Exia away in the hip mounted carrying case she'd been using since she started battling seriously. The Strike Freedom, while repaired, and even tuned a bit, was not something she wanted to use regularly, besides, she wanted to cut lose with her 'partner' in the next battle, when ever that was gonna be.</s> <\|message\|>Alex Taylor All Alex did was groan. The PA system rings with a morning tone followed by an announcement: "Good Morning everyone. The mess hall is now open for breakfast. And remember, Class starts at 10:00 AM."</s> <\|message\|>Sakuya Kawashiro Sakuya yawned as she stretched once more she was already out and at it. Despite everything she woke up early to get some extra work done on her gunpla. Looking down at her Seravee she smirked her partner through thick and thin and with the recent upgrades it should be better than ever. Pushing up her rimless glasses and standing up she stretched a bit pulling up her thigh high light purple socks she straightened out her clothes before slipping on her Tieria jacket. It made her only look more like said character sure but she didn't mind after all the mere fact she looked like a female Tieria normally got most gundam fans over the top about it. Lifting up a small suit case she opened it up revealing a padded foam covering it. She gently placed her Seravee Panzer into its spot before looking a bit sadly at the spot next to it. Lying there was a modified Gerbera Tetra it was badly damaged but for some reason she could not bring herself to fix it just yet though underneath was a hidden gunpla one she did not want to really show. Shaking those thoughts from her head she quietly closed the case perhaps she could get a small match in she woke up early to fix her gunpla missing the last set of matches because of such but now it was time to shine she thought. "The lightning count" was what they called her basing her strategies and fighting style similar to Milliardo. Perhaps it was time to show them that she was not as "washed out" or "dead" as they claimed. Though hearing the news for breakfast broke that chain of thought as she went to the mess hall for some food. Perhaps this time she could actually find someone to interact with she thought. While she went to the line and waited for her turn to get her breakfast. Grabbing her breakfast of corned beef hash with toast and eggs she sat down with a bottle of orange juice as she went to eat. Though she did place her gunpla case on the table besides her. Best to keep it in sight than misplace it was her main train of thought as she noticed more people filing in for food.</s> <\|message\|>Rou Gernot/Ball Guy Rou grabbed his backpack and hastily threw in his Ball Guy outfit before Alex could see. He packed in his Brave in one case and his Balls in another. All his tools were in order as he shouldered his bag. Rou left the room and headed for the breakfast hall. He wasn't going to eat anything. If not for the academy schedule he wouldn't even be awake until it was time for a late lunch. Day Two of his quest to become a more social butterfly dawned on him, and he scanned the room for anyone he could make an acquaintance to. Immediately his eye for the strange spotted him a girl sporting a style very similar to Tiera from Gundam 00. Go big or go home. Rou sat down in front of her, setting his bag next to his foot. He exhaled and prepared himself by clearing his throat. "Um. Hi. I don't think I saw you at the opening ceremony or in the battle room yesterday." Rou paused, catching himself and nervously adjusting his hat. "I'm Rou...by the way. Is that your Gunpla?" He said motioning towards the case.</s> <\|message\|>Alexis Voll Alexis walked into the mess hall, not really hungry, but was best to eat something to keep hunger from getting in the way later. As she looked around while crunching into an apple she saw, Tiera? Likely some girl cosplaying as him. Not a bad rendition of him ether. Alexis tossed the apple core into the trash, loaded up a plate of hash-browns and scrambled eggs and bacon, she thought about going over and talking to the fellow 00 fan, but some one else was already talking to her, so Alexis decided to not be rude and found a seat and start eating.</s> <\|message\|>Alex Taylor For Alex, the morning is evil. He had always slept in during the morning, hence why he was almost late everytime he had to go to school. Were it not for Jo, he'd really be late. However, if he wanted breakfast, he had to go get it. There were many people in the room, familiar and unfamiliar, however he was too tired to figure out who he knew. So far it was the third day here at the academy. Yesterday, the classes were just brief explanations about what they were going to do and how the system worked, followed by lunch. All the classmates had to also fill out a form with a question asking: "What Gunpla model would they like to build that was straight forward?", and that's it. For the rest of that day, Alex did nothing but play a few Gunpla battles with others. Two fights he had won, but they were pretty close, and he had not activated his Star AGE Gundam's "Starlight" program. He had not seen this cosplay guy that Rou and some others had mentioned, but that was likely due to having done a few sparring battles with his roommate and his Brave Gunpla. They must have battled about half a dozen times, and each one ended in a draw due to the time limit. So much time had passed that he didn't get a chance to go get snacks at the convenient store. Well there's always today. However, he wasn't thinking too much about what'll happen today, he's just too busy trying to stay awake. Hopefully a plate of some scrambled eggs, Buttermilk pancakes and a cup of Apple Juice would help get his energy. Though he didn't realize someone had come up to him.</s> <\|message\|>Sakuya Kawashiro Looking up from her breakfast to see someone sitting in front of her. Looking up from her food she swallowed her bite and took a quick sip of her orange juice before answering. "My name is Sakuya Kawashiro its a pleasure to meet you" she said greeting herself before continuing on "Yah that is my gunpla" she said before pushing away her empty plate. Bringing her case closer to her she opened it up revealing her gunpla's inside "here they are my Seravee Panzer heavy assault and my other gunpla the gerbera tetra Kai though on the subject of the gerbera tetra I haven't repaired it yet since I personally feel like it's not the time to do so." She tried to explain though she was having a hard time getting the words to form exactly. "Perhaps later you get to see me in action was planning a quick match later with my seravee." She quickly added it was after all open for anyone to watch so perhaps he would catch her in action.</s>	<\|message\|>Rou Gernot/Ball Guy Rou nodded as Sakuya explained her Gunpla to him. "Awesome! The Seravee is my favorite out of Tiera's Gundams, even though I'm more of an Allelujah person..." He said as he mimicked the side swiped hair of the bipolar pilot. "Today however, I'm using my custom Brave Knight..." He said as he pulled the gleaming Gunpla out of its case. "Maybe sometime during our stay we can reenact some scenes from the anime."</s>
<\|description\|>Rou Gernot/Ball Guy Age: 17 Gender: M Appearance: Normal: Rou wears a large black Kamen Rider baseball cap that shades his green eyes and makes his black shaggy hair fan out to shoulder length. He often forgets to shave. He wears a short sleeved button up shirt that is usually left open to show whatever Toku/Anime shirt he has chosen to wear for the day. His light blue jeans are a little stained and torn, but still decent. Ball Guy: Rou's alter ego is modeled after his Toku heroes. Ball Guy's outfit consists of a stark white spandex suit and a plastic helmet that sports a red hexagon and a green opaque visor. On top of the helmet is a small pair of mini turret "antennas". Nationality: American Backstory: All his life Rou has loved Tokusatsu heroes and giant robots, especially combiners. He began collecting Super Sentai robots, gunpla and merchandise when he was 8 and his collection is still growing. He can quote Riders, sing theme songs, and name any mobile suit. However, his biggest problem is that he can rarely discuss his hobbies due to his timidness. This was onset by his first gunpla battle at the local hobby shop. Rou built a simple GM to test the waters of the new game. He was stomped and ridiculed for his inexperience, and quickly left the shop and never returned. He longed for companions to help him. Better yet, a team. Despite his trepidation, he attempted to find friends at a different hobby shop. He laid low, but no one really stood out to him. Rou began to only fight matches in private, fearing what the audience would say about his skills. Struggling to overcome his fear of confrontation and people, Rou discovered that he wasn't too timid if the opponent didn't know who he was. He began planning a cosplay suit to hide his identity, but could not seem to fathom what mobile suit to base it from. Rou surveyed his shelf. He wanted something simple. Zaku? Nah, cliche. BCUE? Too animalistic. His eyes finally rested on something he constantly over looked. The quaint little cannon fodder known as the Ball. It was perfect. Rou's skills were good enough that he could hold his own with such a puny gunpla, ad it fit his hero theme quite nicely. He finished his suit in a week and went to the shop. People stared, but no one knew who he actually was, and it made Rou feel so much more comfortable. "Ball Guy" was what they called him. He didn't win many matches, but he was well known and rather liked, even if he was just acting like a "gaudy super hero". Rou decided that a simple upgrade would not suffice. He needed something extra. Then it dawned on his. What about...extra balls? IF that was the case then he would need a Flash system, and that's something that an ordinary Ball wouldn't be able to handle. Rou brainstormed. Balls were what made him so renowned in his town, he couldn't just stop using one. He crafted for weeks and weeks until he found a solution. The transforming ball! he could still use the Flash system as a Gundam, but still look like a ball. Weeks later, his prototype was complete. In a private match he quickly lost ground, but once he transformed his Ball, his opponent dropped like a rock. Now he just needed to know how to use his backup Balls. Constantly controlling them would be tedious and require immense effort. As he wracked his brain, the Super Sentai show running in the back ground showed a scene of them calling their mecha together. It was miraculous, and it fit Rou's personality perfectly. He was going to make a Ball Sentai. He began winning his local matches, preferring to keep his Ball Squad's ability a secret. It was for only those eyes he thought deserving. Learning of his fame, he was invited to Neilsen Labs to participate, signing up under the guise "Ball Guy", to keep his identity a secret for just a little longer. The suit had become a crutch, but its ability to keep him calm in social situations was invaluable. Other information: Rou changes into costume before every match, or constantly wears it if expecting challenges. Main Gunpla: Round Sentai: Ball Squad!/DAI-BALL-OH! Scale: 1/144 Based from: Balls Equipment and Weapons: Fireworks hidden in the tubes of each Ball arm. (Gotta be flashy right?). When combined into a single unit, all attributes are increased due to combined power output and source. Brigadier Ball (Red Stripe): The Ball Rou Controls and uses to command his squad. It is capable of transforming into a Gundam-esque mobile suit to combine with the rest of the balls to form DAI-BALL-OH!. Chest can fire an extremely powerful beam when connected to the other Balls as power sources. Blade Ball (Blue Stripe): Right arm of DAI-BALL-OH!. Equipped with four beam beam sabers to be wielded. Unfoldable hand. Blaster Ball (Green Stripe): Left arm of DAI-BALL-OH!. Equipped with twin beam rifles. A hand folds out from underneath when attached. Bomb Ball (Yellow Stripe) Legs of DAI-BALL-OH!. Equipped with four tri missile pods, two on each side. Added support on bottom to be used as feet. Booster Ball (Pink Stripe): Unfolds to become the backpack and cape for DAI-BALL-OH!, very fast but otherwise useless in combat. Other Gunpla: Name: Brave Knight Based From: GNX- Brave Appearance: Silvery gray. Same basic format, but with some more regal additions like a thin cape and a knights visor on the face that hides the green mono eye and a green feather plume. The upper arms and legs have been beefed up. The Astray Tactical Arms serve as the backpack and as a weapon. Armaments: GN Lance (Thinner and longer) Beam Rapier Tactical Arms (Arm blades (3 pairs) and Bow mode) Wrist vulcans Feet daggers (Al-la Blue Frame) Beam Shield Royal Mode (Half strength Trans Am but double the duration) Flight mode</s> <\|message\|>Rou Gernot/Ball Guy Rou stood up and slammed his hands on the desk, startling everyone around him. "No no no no no no no no NO!" He yelled. "I know Gunpla originated from straight builds, but Gunpla battle thrives from creativity! I didn't come here to straight build like I did when I was 6. Gunpla is about freedom and expression, it's about evolving!" Rou exhaled and looked squarely at Ran. "You're telling me, I came to this class to build a Gunpla and paint it? The VERY BEGINNING stages of customization!" Rou picked up his special order for the class. "This Buster Gundam...it's a beautiful Mobile Suit. I love its base design..." Rou dropped the box and picked up his thick notebook. "But! Weapon Binders. Shotguns. Beam Cannons. Every weapon I could think of loading onto this Buster Gundam, are now moot designs." Rou was about to start rambling on about something else, but he cut himself short. "I'm gonna sit down before I make more of an ass of myself." He slumped back into his chair and crossed his arms as he pouted.</s> <\|message\|>Dani Hatashi decided to interrupt his rant there. "Victory has four beam sabers, a beam rifle, mega beamcannon, mega beam rifle, mega beam shield, two more shields flat out built into the arms, multi launcher, a spray beam pod and variable speed beam rifles. Not to mention it can travel to Jupiter from the moon in less than a week without using any of that teleporation mumbo jumbo. Alexis's wing over there can literally destroy an entire massive space rock gone space station with its main gun and can transform into a jet bird. You're no more special than anyone at the table, champ." she commented, done with one leg's rough assembly.</s> <\|message\|>Alex Taylor Alex realized he was going off track: "Oh sorry. I get lost when i express what i like." He didn't want to comment back about that champion bit she threw at him, cause he knew in his heart that he was not better than anyone else. And that would be shown when he looks at his kit and his tools and pauses. Alex: "... um... okay..." When he picks up the first runner that has the first piece mentioned in his manual, he was trying to place the cutter, but his hands were a bit shaky. Apparently when it came to Gunpla building, he did not have the most steady hands.</s> <\|message\|>Sakuya Kawashiro Sakuya was not happy that much was a fact. Sitting alone on her table she was able to spread the pieces out there was so much she wanted to do for this model. Though now it was moot point it seemed though she smirked when she heard Allelujah break out she agreed with him quite a bit but now was no the time to voice out. Looking back down at her work she was carefully building and sanding the pieces each one colored to the exact colors of the gundam. The stickers was placed neatly as well she was mad sure and angry but that did not excuse sloppy work. She started to sand down the torso of the gunpla since the legs was already done. "Hey Allelujah I understand that your mad and angry and I agree with you a hundred and ten percent but right now its time to retreat. Remember as a member celestial being we must stop all conflict not start it." she threw in talking to Rou and added the part of celestial being as a small easter egg she supposed.</s> <\|message\|>Dani Hatashi Dani stopped and watched him try to build. Taking note of his shakey hands, she guessed the kid was a great fighter since his gunpla assembly skills didn't seem top notch. The female let out a sigh and put down her tools. She rolled herself closer to him and grabbed his hands. "Take a few deep breaths and close your eyes, just focus on being calm and then cut a little bit away from the plastic of the part." she said, helping guide his hands to where they had to be. It also appeared that he didn't have much choice since he could tell that her hands and arms were more akin to the jaws of life than human body parts. She helped him clip a single part out, then showed him what to do. "You go in closer with the snippers the second time around, cutting it almost flush with the plastic, leaving a teeny tiny bit to sand down." she explained, still guiding his hands until the part was clipped down. Then the girl had him pick up sand paper before having him set to work grinding down the remaining stubs. "Good, now look at the part." she said, the one that she helped him with looking damn good.</s> <\|message\|>Rou Gernot/Ball Guy Rou grumbled and nodded as Sakuya told him to hush. She was, sadly, right about the situation. Rou looked at his kit, a very nice MG Buster Kit, one he had built a few years ago when it released. Today though, his skills were much sharper and keen, and he had become a great builder. In fact, building was his greatest strength. His supreme knowledge and confidence of his own creations were what made him deadly on the field. He emptied the runners out of the box and set to work, swiftly but carefully cutting and shaving nubs from the parts. Rou had a set in stone method for building. He built from the ground up. Legs, then waist, the torso, the arms and accessories, and finally attaching the head. Rou didn't build any other way. The Buster's feet and shins rapidly formed. Rou's concentration was unbreakable, for he was truly a monster at the cutting board.</s> <\|message\|>Alexis Voll "Ah ... the good Freedom, good suit. Better then it's 'Upgrade' anyway." Alexis said as Alex went off about it. She was about to comment on it when another kid flew off the hinges about the 'straight build only' thing. Another girl silenced him but she just rolled her eyes. "Apparently we have to many 'artists' and not enough 'warriors' in class" Alexis bemused really only loud enough for her table to hear her, though Dani pulling out her 'Block' caught her attention, it was really well built, but not 'over built' like a lot of customs where. "Well, since we're sharing ..." Alexis commented as she pulled her Gunpla carrier off her hip and after putting the GN Blades on its hips, set Exia on the table. The Suit it self was 'unremarkable' at a glance. It was clear from the paint, and lack of seems that Alexis put a lot of effort into making it look 'show accurate', save the white line stickers on the left shoulder and vent cover. The GN Blades, and GN Sword hinted it was more then that though, the way the light in the room reflected of them was like the way light reflects off of polished metal, not the shiny plastic the kit came with. Since others where starting Alexis followed suit, she figured they'd be on a timer but eh, oh well. Alexis started building Zero like every other kit she'd built, torso and waist first, then, what ever she felt like doing next. Past building the 'core' of the suit first she really had no set way of building, more over she didn't seem like she was in any hurry what with the way she leaned back and took the time to inspect the pieces before putting them together. Building was the 'relaxing' part of the hobby to her after all. "Oh, and, Dani, This is Wing Zero Custom. From the Endless Waltz OVA, it doesn't have the Neo Bird mode that Wing and Wing Zero have in the show. Just as fast though."</s> <\|message\|>Alex Taylor Alex was starting to understand better: "Ah. I get it. I'm sure that..." As he was cutting out the next piece, without holding onto the part well, as he cut the last gate/tree connecting to the part, it suddenly flings downward and bounces across the table: "Oops! I didn't mean to do that." As the class went by, tips were passed along that some who were still novice at building including to cut the trees slightly longer and then trim the excess off, more effective to make two cuts than one, carefully placing stickers on right due to losing adhesion and to use cotton swabs to help put them in place, along with checking the range and movement of the model so they would have a better understanding when in combat. For Alex, the tips given to him by Dani and the instructors did help him out in making the model starting to look better in quality, however, it did not help improve his speed too much. Around the time others were finishing their models, he had yet to start on the Freedom's legs. He was double checking to make sure he did not botch a step. But so far, it appeared the Freedom was very well put together, despite this being his 3rd model he ever built. On Kasumi's side, she was quiet most of the class. The model she had chosen was G Gundams GF13-017NJ Shining Gundam. It didn't take long for her to soon produce a well quality HG Shining Gundam. She was now applying on the panel marking with the marker. Johnson told the class at this point: "Next door, we have our battle systems up and running, ready to test your models in battle."</s>	<\|message\|>Rou Gernot/Ball Guy Rou sat back and observed his work. The MG Buster was a marvel to behold alright. The perfect mixture of tan, green, and red was beautiful. Every nub mark was invisible, every panel line was perfectly flushed with gray or black. Rou posed the Buster with its dual cannons and missile pods open, ready for battle. He looked over at Kasumi, who displayed a quite lovely Shining Gundam. Rou nodded approvingly. "Good choice." He said.</s>
<\|description\|>Rou Gernot/Ball Guy Age: 17 Gender: M Appearance: Normal: Rou wears a large black Kamen Rider baseball cap that shades his green eyes and makes his black shaggy hair fan out to shoulder length. He often forgets to shave. He wears a short sleeved button up shirt that is usually left open to show whatever Toku/Anime shirt he has chosen to wear for the day. His light blue jeans are a little stained and torn, but still decent. Ball Guy: Rou's alter ego is modeled after his Toku heroes. Ball Guy's outfit consists of a stark white spandex suit and a plastic helmet that sports a red hexagon and a green opaque visor. On top of the helmet is a small pair of mini turret "antennas". Nationality: American Backstory: All his life Rou has loved Tokusatsu heroes and giant robots, especially combiners. He began collecting Super Sentai robots, gunpla and merchandise when he was 8 and his collection is still growing. He can quote Riders, sing theme songs, and name any mobile suit. However, his biggest problem is that he can rarely discuss his hobbies due to his timidness. This was onset by his first gunpla battle at the local hobby shop. Rou built a simple GM to test the waters of the new game. He was stomped and ridiculed for his inexperience, and quickly left the shop and never returned. He longed for companions to help him. Better yet, a team. Despite his trepidation, he attempted to find friends at a different hobby shop. He laid low, but no one really stood out to him. Rou began to only fight matches in private, fearing what the audience would say about his skills. Struggling to overcome his fear of confrontation and people, Rou discovered that he wasn't too timid if the opponent didn't know who he was. He began planning a cosplay suit to hide his identity, but could not seem to fathom what mobile suit to base it from. Rou surveyed his shelf. He wanted something simple. Zaku? Nah, cliche. BCUE? Too animalistic. His eyes finally rested on something he constantly over looked. The quaint little cannon fodder known as the Ball. It was perfect. Rou's skills were good enough that he could hold his own with such a puny gunpla, ad it fit his hero theme quite nicely. He finished his suit in a week and went to the shop. People stared, but no one knew who he actually was, and it made Rou feel so much more comfortable. "Ball Guy" was what they called him. He didn't win many matches, but he was well known and rather liked, even if he was just acting like a "gaudy super hero". Rou decided that a simple upgrade would not suffice. He needed something extra. Then it dawned on his. What about...extra balls? IF that was the case then he would need a Flash system, and that's something that an ordinary Ball wouldn't be able to handle. Rou brainstormed. Balls were what made him so renowned in his town, he couldn't just stop using one. He crafted for weeks and weeks until he found a solution. The transforming ball! he could still use the Flash system as a Gundam, but still look like a ball. Weeks later, his prototype was complete. In a private match he quickly lost ground, but once he transformed his Ball, his opponent dropped like a rock. Now he just needed to know how to use his backup Balls. Constantly controlling them would be tedious and require immense effort. As he wracked his brain, the Super Sentai show running in the back ground showed a scene of them calling their mecha together. It was miraculous, and it fit Rou's personality perfectly. He was going to make a Ball Sentai. He began winning his local matches, preferring to keep his Ball Squad's ability a secret. It was for only those eyes he thought deserving. Learning of his fame, he was invited to Neilsen Labs to participate, signing up under the guise "Ball Guy", to keep his identity a secret for just a little longer. The suit had become a crutch, but its ability to keep him calm in social situations was invaluable. Other information: Rou changes into costume before every match, or constantly wears it if expecting challenges. Main Gunpla: Round Sentai: Ball Squad!/DAI-BALL-OH! Scale: 1/144 Based from: Balls Equipment and Weapons: Fireworks hidden in the tubes of each Ball arm. (Gotta be flashy right?). When combined into a single unit, all attributes are increased due to combined power output and source. Brigadier Ball (Red Stripe): The Ball Rou Controls and uses to command his squad. It is capable of transforming into a Gundam-esque mobile suit to combine with the rest of the balls to form DAI-BALL-OH!. Chest can fire an extremely powerful beam when connected to the other Balls as power sources. Blade Ball (Blue Stripe): Right arm of DAI-BALL-OH!. Equipped with four beam beam sabers to be wielded. Unfoldable hand. Blaster Ball (Green Stripe): Left arm of DAI-BALL-OH!. Equipped with twin beam rifles. A hand folds out from underneath when attached. Bomb Ball (Yellow Stripe) Legs of DAI-BALL-OH!. Equipped with four tri missile pods, two on each side. Added support on bottom to be used as feet. Booster Ball (Pink Stripe): Unfolds to become the backpack and cape for DAI-BALL-OH!, very fast but otherwise useless in combat. Other Gunpla: Name: Brave Knight Based From: GNX- Brave Appearance: Silvery gray. Same basic format, but with some more regal additions like a thin cape and a knights visor on the face that hides the green mono eye and a green feather plume. The upper arms and legs have been beefed up. The Astray Tactical Arms serve as the backpack and as a weapon. Armaments: GN Lance (Thinner and longer) Beam Rapier Tactical Arms (Arm blades (3 pairs) and Bow mode) Wrist vulcans Feet daggers (Al-la Blue Frame) Beam Shield Royal Mode (Half strength Trans Am but double the duration) Flight mode</s> <\|message\|>Rou Gernot/Ball Guy Rou usually tried to play the the strength of the gunpla. Accepting the beam saber would go against that tactic on so many levels. However, his love of cheesy honorable battles got the better of him. He attached his cannons to form the Anti Armor Shotgun and fired a shot into the air to let Kasumi know he was coming. He took the beam saber in his hand and walked forward, letting the attached cannons fall to the side.</s> <\|message\|>Kasumi Arashi The Shining Gundam turned to face the coming Buster. The Shining Gundam was already shorter than the Buster by about 2 meters, but since Rou's model was an MG while Kasumi's was an HG, it was even shorter. But the size of the suit didn't intimidate her. She takes her stance, mimicking her kendo school's form.</s> <\|message\|>Rou Gernot/Ball Guy Rou's Buster towered over the Shining Gundam, but he wasn't cocky. He turned the beam saber over in his hand so the blade extended from the bottom. The ZAFT Gundam held the saber in a manner that lined the blade along his arm in a defensive manner and gripped his wrist with his free hand to support himself. Kasumi looked like she knew what she was doing. It was like a scene from a samurai movie. Rou chuckled, he could practically hear the YOOOOOOOOOOO-"DUNK" sound bit.</s> <\|message\|>Sakuya Kawashiro Internally Sakuya wanted to scream at how he could forget her when he was the one who promised that rematch. This pissed her off a bit it was one of her most defining battles and he did not remember!! "It was the 12th championship battles you beat me in the semi finals when I was using my custom gerbera tetra. I was known back than as "Zechs the Lightning count" she said as she tried to job up any memories it was kind of annoying she had to do this though. "It was a hard battle but in the end you won since my gunpla wouldnt move when time ran out. Afterwards you promised a rematch if we ever meet again which is now." Sakuya stated simply it was just that she was not satisfied with how the battle ended and wanted another run at him.@Pilot231</s> <\|message\|>Alex Taylor 's when it hit him. That battle he had in the semi-finals. His Star AGE Gundam faced off against a very fast and modified Gerbera tetra. He couldn't seem to get a shot on her for a while, and when the fight moved to close range, his unit had lost its right arm and left leg. He managed to claim the victory when he charged right on into his opponent and pierce the suit with his beam saber, doing enough damage to shut it down. It was after that fight he made a promise to her that they'll have a rematch someday. Alex pats his fist in the palm of his other hand responding: "NOW I REMEMBER! Lightning count! I remember the fight and the promise. Of course you looked different back then a bit. You actually remind me of Tieria from Gundam 00. Sorry."</s> <\|message\|>Kasumi Arashi battle stood still for some time... until a leaf nearby finally hit the ground. The Shining Gundam's head rose a bit and its eyes glow brighter. In a fast movement of the arms, the blade was held close to the unit as Kasumi shouts: "Arashi school style, Storm Breaker!" The unit slashed forward, sending out a gust of wind that nearly blew the Buster off balanced, sending many of the leaves on the ground into the air. When one leaf passed by the view of the Buster, the Shining Gundam went from standing to dashing forward towards her opponent.</s> <\|message\|>Sakuya Kawashiro "Ha yah back than I always wore that char mask and dyed my hair blond. Though I stopped after that battle I took it as a sign that perhaps it was time for me to stop though I still have that gerbera tetra untouched something felt that it was its time to be repaired. I used to be mad about looking like Tieria back than I did everything to stop it though I just felt like it was time to lay down the mask after that perhaps I shall wear it once more for old time sakes though." She commented off her hand going to her bag which held said mask in it for some reason she never felt the need to throw it away and kept it in good condition. "Still it was a good battle heck you were the one who made me take off my mask." She laughed back than all she cared for was victory it was afterwords she felt like she could actually enjoy gunpla battles.@Pilot231</s> <\|message\|>Rou Gernot/Ball Guy Rou braced the Buster Gundam for the impact that the Shining would bring him. Only moments before the Shining would hit, he unclasped his hands and quickly reached for the Anti Armor Shotgun and quickly blasted in front of him.</s> <\|message\|>Kasumi Arashi There was an explosion from the shot. But it looked like nothing was there. Before Rou could react, the Anti Armor Shotgun had suddenly broken into several pieces, super-heated from being slashed by a beam saber. Right behind him, the Shining Gundam was there, but it was missing its left arm, which was hit by the round from the Buster. Kasumi thought to herself: "My reaction was slow. I'll need to be faster than that."@FerriteFox</s> <\|message\|>Dani Hatashi rolled into the room. She didn't want to disrupt people, but gave a small bow as she spoke up. "Greetings. My name is Dani Hatashi. I've come to speak about my ideas for plavasky particles." she said to him, giving a bow. "It would require knowledge on their subject and if you could please give me access to those who can help me bring these ideas to life, i would greatly appreciate it." she said, looking up at the one in charge of the room.</s> <\|message\|>Rou Gernot/Ball Guy Rou leaped forward and ran a few meters forward to create distance. His little stunt had destroyed four of his six current weapons, he had to play it safe now. The Buster turned around and ripped off the remains of its cannons, as they would only hinder him at this point. Rou readied his beam saber in the defensive fashion it had before and began circling around the area with the Shining. "You're pretty swift there Kasumi. If I hadn't reacted in that manner I would have already lost this."</s> <\|message\|>Alex Taylor did remember also in the fight, asking how why all she could think about was victory, when he always believed Gunpla should be fun. He's glad to see people who take his ideal to heart for they always seem to have more fun. Alex continues: "Well it's good to see you're doing well. Though about that rematch, i was hoping that we could have it another time, when we can use our other models, that and the fact that I already have someone in mind to challenge today. Gives a fist forward But I'll still keep my promise to you for a battle." Though down an arm, the fight to her was farm from over. She readied herself again and wait for the right moment... before she charged right at the spot the Buster was going to be at. Satsuki didn't turn around yet but he said: "Dani Hatashi. I've read up on you. IQ of 175. Prefers using suits that don't have legs. And who follows the ideals of Meijin Kawaguchi the 3rd. And i see you're interested in knowing more about the particles that we use in our systems."</s> <\|message\|>Rou Gernot/Ball Guy Rou felt jolted as the Shining crashed into him, shattering the armor panels and cracking the inner frame of his arms. As quickly as he could react, they were cleanly cut off. In a final desperate attempt, Rou opened the shoulder missile pods and fired off one last hoo-Ra.</s> <\|message\|>Kasumi Arashi With 12 missiles closing in at her Gundam, she waited till they were just about to impact... suddenly swish swish slash, and all 12 were split in half nearly at the same time, exploding. The flames engulfed the gundam. Did it work? From the flames, the outline of the Shining Gundam stood. Though burnted and damaged, it was still standing, with its saber drawn. The next second Rou noticed, it was just in front of his Buster with a saber right at the chest, ready to slash the Gundam in half. Kasumi warned Rou: "If you value your Gunpla, surrender. Just know there is no shame in surrendering."</s>	<\|message\|>Rou Gernot/Ball Guy Rou sighed heavily. With both arms gone and no more artillery, he really had no other choice. Wordlessly, he inputted the command to withdraw from the match. BATTLE ENDED</s>
<\|description\|>Rou Gernot/Ball Guy Age: 17 Gender: M Appearance: Normal: Rou wears a large black Kamen Rider baseball cap that shades his green eyes and makes his black shaggy hair fan out to shoulder length. He often forgets to shave. He wears a short sleeved button up shirt that is usually left open to show whatever Toku/Anime shirt he has chosen to wear for the day. His light blue jeans are a little stained and torn, but still decent. Ball Guy: Rou's alter ego is modeled after his Toku heroes. Ball Guy's outfit consists of a stark white spandex suit and a plastic helmet that sports a red hexagon and a green opaque visor. On top of the helmet is a small pair of mini turret "antennas". Nationality: American Backstory: All his life Rou has loved Tokusatsu heroes and giant robots, especially combiners. He began collecting Super Sentai robots, gunpla and merchandise when he was 8 and his collection is still growing. He can quote Riders, sing theme songs, and name any mobile suit. However, his biggest problem is that he can rarely discuss his hobbies due to his timidness. This was onset by his first gunpla battle at the local hobby shop. Rou built a simple GM to test the waters of the new game. He was stomped and ridiculed for his inexperience, and quickly left the shop and never returned. He longed for companions to help him. Better yet, a team. Despite his trepidation, he attempted to find friends at a different hobby shop. He laid low, but no one really stood out to him. Rou began to only fight matches in private, fearing what the audience would say about his skills. Struggling to overcome his fear of confrontation and people, Rou discovered that he wasn't too timid if the opponent didn't know who he was. He began planning a cosplay suit to hide his identity, but could not seem to fathom what mobile suit to base it from. Rou surveyed his shelf. He wanted something simple. Zaku? Nah, cliche. BCUE? Too animalistic. His eyes finally rested on something he constantly over looked. The quaint little cannon fodder known as the Ball. It was perfect. Rou's skills were good enough that he could hold his own with such a puny gunpla, ad it fit his hero theme quite nicely. He finished his suit in a week and went to the shop. People stared, but no one knew who he actually was, and it made Rou feel so much more comfortable. "Ball Guy" was what they called him. He didn't win many matches, but he was well known and rather liked, even if he was just acting like a "gaudy super hero". Rou decided that a simple upgrade would not suffice. He needed something extra. Then it dawned on his. What about...extra balls? IF that was the case then he would need a Flash system, and that's something that an ordinary Ball wouldn't be able to handle. Rou brainstormed. Balls were what made him so renowned in his town, he couldn't just stop using one. He crafted for weeks and weeks until he found a solution. The transforming ball! he could still use the Flash system as a Gundam, but still look like a ball. Weeks later, his prototype was complete. In a private match he quickly lost ground, but once he transformed his Ball, his opponent dropped like a rock. Now he just needed to know how to use his backup Balls. Constantly controlling them would be tedious and require immense effort. As he wracked his brain, the Super Sentai show running in the back ground showed a scene of them calling their mecha together. It was miraculous, and it fit Rou's personality perfectly. He was going to make a Ball Sentai. He began winning his local matches, preferring to keep his Ball Squad's ability a secret. It was for only those eyes he thought deserving. Learning of his fame, he was invited to Neilsen Labs to participate, signing up under the guise "Ball Guy", to keep his identity a secret for just a little longer. The suit had become a crutch, but its ability to keep him calm in social situations was invaluable. Other information: Rou changes into costume before every match, or constantly wears it if expecting challenges. Main Gunpla: Round Sentai: Ball Squad!/DAI-BALL-OH! Scale: 1/144 Based from: Balls Equipment and Weapons: Fireworks hidden in the tubes of each Ball arm. (Gotta be flashy right?). When combined into a single unit, all attributes are increased due to combined power output and source. Brigadier Ball (Red Stripe): The Ball Rou Controls and uses to command his squad. It is capable of transforming into a Gundam-esque mobile suit to combine with the rest of the balls to form DAI-BALL-OH!. Chest can fire an extremely powerful beam when connected to the other Balls as power sources. Blade Ball (Blue Stripe): Right arm of DAI-BALL-OH!. Equipped with four beam beam sabers to be wielded. Unfoldable hand. Blaster Ball (Green Stripe): Left arm of DAI-BALL-OH!. Equipped with twin beam rifles. A hand folds out from underneath when attached. Bomb Ball (Yellow Stripe) Legs of DAI-BALL-OH!. Equipped with four tri missile pods, two on each side. Added support on bottom to be used as feet. Booster Ball (Pink Stripe): Unfolds to become the backpack and cape for DAI-BALL-OH!, very fast but otherwise useless in combat. Other Gunpla: Name: Brave Knight Based From: GNX- Brave Appearance: Silvery gray. Same basic format, but with some more regal additions like a thin cape and a knights visor on the face that hides the green mono eye and a green feather plume. The upper arms and legs have been beefed up. The Astray Tactical Arms serve as the backpack and as a weapon. Armaments: GN Lance (Thinner and longer) Beam Rapier Tactical Arms (Arm blades (3 pairs) and Bow mode) Wrist vulcans Feet daggers (Al-la Blue Frame) Beam Shield Royal Mode (Half strength Trans Am but double the duration) Flight mode</s> <\|message\|>Alex Taylor shot pierces through the Reborns Gundam, and with a clear shot through it, the suit explodes. With that, the battle system announces: "BATTLE ENDED!" Sakuya's opponent was disappointed that his plans had failed against his opponent, feeling he had the faster unit. A while later after his battle, Alex was heading back down one of the halls of the labs. He was putting together the pieces from the Freedom that broke off during the fight. Though he couldn't fully fix everything, he'd get a good start till he gets back to his room to finish up the repairs. Thoughts from the fight were going through his head. It was true that Alex was technically still a rookie when it came to Gunpla battles, despite winning the tournament. Though through all his fights, his usual preferred weapon that he uses the most was the Beam Saber, even if it meant heavy damage to his Gunpla. He had feelings during his fight that Alexis was no doubt a long time pro with battling, so he felt that he fared well, but still had a lot of work to do. However, he smiles when he feels that he was indeed on the right track. With that, he hurried his way back to his room. Alex enters the room and notices Rou at the desk nearby his bed: "Hey Rou." Just like that, he sits down at his desk and places Freedom at the desk. But instead of going to work on his new Gunpla right away, he pulls out his Star AGE Gundam and starts taking apart some parts, pulling out some tools that were provided at each desk.</s> <\|message\|>Sakuya Kawashiro Nodding to herself for the victory well earned in her opinion she picked up her gunpla nodded to her "foe" and started leave. It was a decent battle she supposed she managed to see how her crossbone matched up though she supposed that despite the early lose of her peackock smasher it did real good. Just as she though though the main feature of the crossbone will become is I field and versatility in a battle. Though as she went back to her room she couldn't help but wonder just how would things turned out if she was against a stronger person?</s> <\|message\|>Rou Gernot/Ball Guy Rou looked up drowsily from the desk. "Oh, what's up. How'd your battle go?" Rou brushed off some excess plastic bits from the desk, luckily he had hidden the new Ball modules he had been working soon before. He posed the Brave Knight on his GP Base and laid back on his bed. Kasumi had really done a number on him. If he had played along with her game, he would have lost so much sooner. Rou struggled to wrap his head around what today's lesson was supposed to teach him. Was he too reliant on his custom weapons? Was he, in reality, using customization as a crutch?</s> <\|message\|>Alex Taylor continues to work on his Gunpla while he answers: "It went amazingly. Alexis really is a top of the line Gunpla Fighter. Just shows that i have a lot more to learn if i want to become a better fighter. Also, when i was using the Freedom, i was moving so much more smoothly than i had before. And if the tips i learned and the help i got from Dani, then I can only imagine what will happen when i finish with fixing up the Star AGE Gundam."</s> <\|message\|>Rou Gernot/Ball Guy Rou smiled at Alex's enthusiasm. "Yeah, I don't really feel like I've learned much today." Rou laughed. "I'll probably realize it in the middle of a battle, anime style you know?" Rou said, mindlessly lining the inside of some spare parts of a HG Jesta Cannon with layers of aluminum foil.</s> <\|message\|>Dani Hatashi @FerriteFox Dani had totally not followed alex back to his room after the battles. This was now totally not the reason why both Alex and Rou heard a knock on their door, at about waist level height none the less. Dani was sitting in her wheel chair outside the door, her victory two gundam sitting in her lap as she waited for someone to answer.</s> <\|message\|>Alex Taylor mentioned: "You know, i don't think there was one specific lesson that needed to be learned. Everyone had something to learn, and maybe they'll realize it later. I know i have learned something, and that's only gonna help make my partner and I stronger." door was knocked, catching their attention and Alex asked: "I wonder who's here?" He sets down his Star AGE Gundam he was working on and heads to the door, opening it revealing their guest: "Dani? What brings you here?"</s> <\|message\|>Rou Gernot/Ball Guy Rou leaned over behind Alex and swallowed hard. It was the girl in the wheelchair, Dani? He hadn't really seen or spoken to her since the first day of the academy, he wondered what she could possibly want. In her lap was a nicely made V2 Gundam, was she looking for a battle? Rou exhaled and looked at her. "Yeah, what's up?"</s> <\|message\|>Alexis Voll As Alexis sat at the desk working on Wing Zero she replayed the battle in her mind, looking for things she could have done differently to win, and coming up with a few things, not over using the Buster Rifles for one. She'd need to work on that, she normally avoided the super high output beam cannons like Zero's Buster Rifles due to the energy drain, these kits practically demanded an upgrade just to handle that, let alone general performance, and it annoyed her greatly she wouldn't be able to make those changes.</s> <\|message\|>Dani Hatashi @Pilot231 The V2 wasn't painted yet, but it looked beautiful none the less. "Alex, i'm here to be your mentor, like it or not." she said and rolled into the room regardless. "Rou... if i recall hearing your name correctly, if you want to sit in on my lesson, then feel free to do so." she said and rolled up to the work table and looked at the gunpla on the table. "well made and put together. however, i'm here to teach you how to paint it." she said to them.</s> <\|message\|>Rou Gernot/Ball Guy Rou sat at his desk while Dani entered. He looked at Alex coyly. "You know, if you wanted to bring a girl into the room I'd have gladly left." He teased. Rou straightened his cap and toyed with an ink pen before finally breaking it on accident. As the ink flowed into his hand, an idea struck him. Slowly, his rubbed it into his hand, testing the stickiness and viscosity. When he noticed the others staring, he blushed. "Sorry...theorizing..."</s> <\|message\|>Sakuya Kawashiro Sakuya sighed to herself as she walked back towards the dormitory area but as she was passing she spotted Alexis sitting at a building table. Seeing that she was by herself she decided to try and see what she was doing it wouldn't hurt after all plus it gave her a potential person to help her with her idea. Walking up to her she tried to announce her presence as to not startle her. "Ah hello Alexis was it?" she opened up as she grabbed a chair and pulled it next to where alexis was sitting.</s> <\|message\|>Alex Taylor @FerriteFoxAlex was a little caught off guard: "Mentor? When did, i mean, why would, i uh..." And when he heard Rou's comment: "It's not what you think! Could we maybe, um..." Alex ending narration: "Well, I'll admit, i've had a lot more crazier things happen to me than this. But I'm sure this will likely end very well. After all, the more I can learn from others, the better things will be. Just like the AGE system on the normal AGE-1 Gundam, we'll both keep evolving."</s> <\|message\|>Alexis Voll "Yeah, Sakuya right? Hows it going?" Alexis asked as Sakuya sat down next to her. Alexis was still working on Wing Zero, and it was tore down to the frame work in some spots still, with the damaged parts laying about beside the Gunpla in no real 'order'.</s> <\|message\|>Dani Hatashi @FerriteFox"Right..." she said to rou on the comment of the girl thing. "Anyways... i'm going to teach you how to properly paint your gunpla. not that you did a bad job, because it's looks fairly ok." she said examining the star age. "Anyways, do you know the first step before you even begin to paint your gunpla is to do to the gunpla?" she asked.</s>	<\|message\|>Rou Gernot/Ball Guy Rou shot off the rubber band that was wrapped around his fingers. Would a Gunpla have enough flexibility to utilize something like that? He snorted as it pinged off of Alex's shoulder. He looked at Dani. "Picking a color right?"</s>
<\|description\|>Saffron Bridges Sabre09 Military Rank: Warrant officer Age: 36 Gender: Female Appearance: Personality: Saffron is an adrenaline junkie with a quick temper, always living life to the fullest. She often charges into action before considering the overall tactical situation and sometimes leaves herself in difficult situations having failed to consider the consequences of her actions. She's smart and learns quickly in a scholastic environment, but only when carefully monitored and guided to ensure her attention doesn't wander off topic. Openly homosexual, Saffron has been married to her lesbian life partner for many happy years. Biography: Seen early on as a rising star Saffron was warmly accepted into the advanced officer training program at the academy based solely on her academic results and early aptitude evaluations. She completed her training in short order, scoring highly in tactical assessments and battle simulations with her instructors making note of her unwavering bravery and dedication to her goals. Things fell apart soon after that when during her first official mission she lost over half her squad when trying to perform a suicidal frontal attack against an entrenched enemy. Placed under psychological review pending court martial she was cleared of all charges, insisting that the tactic was sound given the circumstances and the intel provided to her at the time of operational planning. Her psychiatrist agreed that she was fit to return to duty, but noted a possible Messiah Complex or megalomaniac tendencies which should be monitored in future. Returning to action Saffron found command difficult. Word of her previous failure, and rumours that she was undergoing psychological treatment, undermined her position with the troops to whom she was assigned, and despite several successful operations she soon found herself being reassigned between divisions as her superiors tried to have the black sheep placed under anyone's command but their own. Things finally reached a head when Saffron received orders for her fifth transfer in two years. Facing off with her CO what started as a calm interview soon became violent, first with angry words thrown and then punches. Once again facing court martial, this time for striking a superior officer, Saffron found herself stripped of her commission and reenlisted as a Warrant Officer. Realise this could be a breaking point in her career Saffron's psychiatrist made arrangements for her to be transferred to a specialist program which would allow the Service to make best use of her skills rather than losing her altogether. Specializations: Skills:* Basic small arms training * Advanced combat training in close quarters combat and swordsmanship * Advanced tactical training, lapsed * Experienced knowledge of military protocols and procedures * Holds degrees in military history and humanities, but most of her knowledge is now outdated * Expert chef Suit Augmentation - Energy Shielding Shield Armour: In combat Saffron can activate her suit's shield capacitor units encasing herself in dense optical armour which protects her from concussive and kinetic attacks. The armour reacts to impacts by diverting power to the point of pressure, making it more effective when dealing with fewer targets. When facing attacks from multiple angles the armour strains to adjust fast enough (requiring 0.3 seconds to recover from each incoming attack) but when facing sustained attacks from a single assailant the armour can shunt all available power to a single facing, making it perfect for dealing with rapid fire weaponry. Since the armour prevents material passing through it also grants limited effectiveness against area of effect attacks, such as flames, liquids and gases, however it cannot protect against high frequency energy attacks such as heat, radiation and electronic interference. Suit Augmentation - Shield Emitters Shield Projection: By focusing the shield emitters in her hands Saffron can create either walls or blades of light which can be used to either defend or attack. When using her Shield Wall ability Saffron can create upto two shields (one per hand) a meter in diameter upto a maximum of three meters away. Unlike her armour these shields are static and have a fixed protection rating but may be easily repositioned on the fly simply by moving her hands to face a new direction. Energy Blades: When using her hand emitters to generate blades Saffron focuses the power of her shields into a single, almost indestructible monomolecular surface capable of easily slicing through practically any material. As the blades are composed of pure energy they are subject to disruption from other energy sources, such as other shields and similarly powered blades. Upto two blades can be created at a time (one per hand) and as they use the same emitters as her projected shields the two systems are mutually exclusive for each hand, although Saffron often chooses to equip a shield with one hand and a blade with the other, effortlessly switching between the two in the heat of combat. Energy Wave: Saffron can choose to overload her hand shield emitters, causing them to send out a powerful burst of energy in the direction she is pointing her hand at the time of discharge. This ability requires her to shut down the shield or sword she's using for at least two seconds in order to charge the capacitor and also burns out the emitter when used, requiring a cold restart to be performed which takes several minutes. Dual Service Pistols In order to cover herself on those occasions when either she's unable to close with the enemy to use her blades or her suit is recovering from overexertion Saffron carries a pair of standard-issue service pistols as backup weapons. While she's proficient with these handguns she's in no way a marksman, often relying on sustained suppressive fire until heavier support can reach her, or her suit is back to full power and ready for some hands on action. [[PSYCHOLOGICAL REPORT]] Warrant Officer Bridges shows signs of developing an inferiority complex based around the perceived persecution and ostracisation she has suffered from her fellow service personnel in recent years. In regards to any anger management issues she may have, it is my belief that the recent incident was a 'flashpoint' event caused by the ongoing treatment she had been receiving and not an indication of any deeper problems. No further action is advised at this time. I highly recommend she be placed into a high-profile programme which will not only make best use of her obvious combat proficiencies but also grant her the positive exposure she requires to stabilise her condition at this time. A small, tight-knit team would be preferable as it would allow her to form meaningful bonds with her colleagues on a more intimate basis, improving her perception of her fellow soldiers. Warrant Officer Bridges is hereby declared fit for duty and has been granted permission to resume her duties as soon as possible.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges Saffron was more confused than ever about this new setup, chain of command was based on their assigned squad numbers? In that case Sgt Garron outranked SSgt Grayeson rather than the other way around, and all three sergeants out ranked Lt Indar. Worst of all a civilian outranked her. Unable to hold back any longer she quickly raised her hand and glanced down the line of chairs towards her new CO. "I'm sorry to speak out of turn Sir, but could I just clarify the chain of command? You said 'lowest number is in charge', does that go for all ranks?" She was sure she was making herself sound stupid, and the others already knew of her previous history with command, but if she really was to be treated as the junior amongst them she was certainly not going to let them make her inconsequential.</s> <\|message\|>Jax "Ghost Reaper" Orion Jax sat in silence as he normally did. His knife in hand he was spinning that blade around. Catching it in his hand as he spun around once more as he let rolling it on the back of his hand and then turning it catching it. Though as he did this he wasn't even watching it. His eyes focused on a spot on the table in front of him. He had read all the dossiers he was given on all of them. Looking through his memory was sharp, he watched them all as they sat in uncomfortable silence, well uncomfortable for the rest of them. For himself, and he figured 04, silence was a friend. Used to working in the field by them selves, days, weeks of silence. One wrong sound and you were dead. You learned to be a mouse, a mouse with very big weapons. 02 stood up and started to speak, speaking to the others about how they needed to break the ice. He was right they were a team, but Jax would have the least amount of interaction with them, in and off the the field. As a sniper you learned to keep a distance a certain distance from people, he was always looking at people though a Scope. Though as long as every one did their job Jax didn't see any problems. he would socialize with them, get to know them. He would always keep that distance from them. He watched as the Doc stood up, out of turn, and started to speak. He was boasting it seemed, which was something that Jax didn't understand. He wasn't new to the SPEC OPs community, he had spent most of his career in black ops. You didn't talk about it, you didn't boast. There was a certain respect about such things. Snipers never asked each other numbers, black ops never asked about Ops. Distance it all came down to distance. Soon enough things were back on tract. 03 stood up and started speaking. Though all of this he kept playing with his knife as his facial expression never changing as he listened to him speak. He was very direct and to the point, Jax Liked that. The one thing he noticed was that he was the only one with a call sign. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. His tags, said "Ghost Reaper" none of his field uniforms had name tapes. More then just nicknames Call signs kept real names out of it, during black Ops it was something that helped keep them safe as there Unofficial names meant that linking the soldier to the person was harder. 04 was next, it was short and sweet just as Jax expected. Next would be 05, but there was another interruption 09 stood up asking about rank. He personally felt like she deserved her spot. He read her record, she was volatile, acted with out thinking. People like that got others killed, she had gotten people killed. In his Black Ops world she wouldn't of lasted. Her little outburst only helped cement his opinion of her in his mind though. He spun his blade and caught it his eyes kept on that spot on the table as he expression had still yet to change.</s> <\|message\|>Scott Riley One by one the group introduced themselves. Somehow Scott knew that Dr. Sigmund would interject, that man almost couldn't get enough of himself. Arrogance can only take you so far in the social realm, but he knew that if he had even half of the qualifications the doctor had then he might be arrogant too. After the brief introduction, Sabre 03 Phayne stood up and did the same. The contrast was almost comical. Here was this hulking mountain of a man that could break several bones in each of our bodies if he really wanted to struggling to talk about himself. He was modest, and hard working. He would be a valuable asset to the team, as long as his empathy didn't cloud his judgement. Next in line was Sabre 04 Garron. Almost as if it was a contest, Garron made his introduction the shortest one yet. It is understandable that neither he nor Sabre 06 Orion would be much for talk, and Scott half expected them not to say anything at all since it was that hard just to interview them prior. Communication is a key component of any team however, and it was the leader's intent to make sure there were no obstacles preventing this. That includes during down time. Then, all the way on the other side of the room, a marginally higher voice spoke up. Sabre 09 Bridges, arm raised and poised at attention, had asked a question. having already spoken to her before, Scott knew that socially there would be far fewer problems with her than there would be tactical problems. Hopefully after a few missions she would understand exactly what she had gotten into, and find her niche in the spec-ops environment. Answering her question, Scott replied, "I didn't mention anything about an ascending or descending order. I simply said 'lowest number is in charge'. I'm the lowest number, so I'm in charge. That's all there is to it. To put it another way, you are all on equal footing and take orders from me, unless I temporarily grant the power to give orders to someone to meet the circumstances." With a slight welcoming gesture of the hand, he continued, "Now, since we're having a conversation why don't you go next?" A faint smile formed across his face as he crossed his arms and waited for a response.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges Saffron frowned, shaken with inner doubts over her CO's proclamation. She'd always worked within the standard operational protocols as part of her previous assignments and the idea of not having clear communication channels shook her up a little. What should the squad do in combat if Cmdr Riley went down without assigning a deputy, who would take charge? Taking a deep breath she pushed her doubts aside. This was no time to raise such concerns, with the squad gathered together, at best it would make her seem argumentative and petty and at worse it may undermine the Commander's authority. Besides she'd just been given an order. Jumping to her feet the Warrant Officer snapped off a salute to her CO before standing to attention and with her eyes focusing in the middle distance she began to speak. "Warrant Officer class one Saffron Bridges reporting for duty, Sir." She began, unsure exactly what the team would need to hear that hadn't been included in her file, "Specialist training in close combat and tactical planning, Sir." Having completed her breakdown Saffron fell silent, still standing to attention as she awaited a response.</s> <\|message\|>Scott Riley Still smiling, Scott spoke to Saffron. "That's good and all, but why don't you share something about yourself? You know, so we believe you're a real person and not an android. It doesn't have to be big or interesting, just something small to break the mold. Also, don't use your former rank unless you are specifically stating that you are no longer that rank. You're a Sabre now, not a Warrant Officer." Scott was starting to have fun with this. The more awkward he made them feel now, the less there would be to deal with later.</s>	<\|message\|>Saffron Bridges This man was really beginning to confuse Saffron, he wasn't anything like the commanding officers she'd dealt with in the past, and she wasn't sure exactly what she should do about that. His comment about just being a Sabre now helped clarify things, in a way they were all just Privates now, equal and expendable. Only now Saffron began to wonder how they fitted into the wider military command structure. Were they a special division, like the Airbourne Cavalry, or simply support reserves? Once again she tabled her questions for later and instead concentrated on the matter at hand. "To be frank Sir, I'm not a 'real person', I'm a soldier." She replied, her voice clipped and precise, "but if you really need to know more than I suppose I could just say that I'm quite a good cook."</s>
<\|description\|>Saffron Bridges Sabre09 Military Rank: Warrant officer Age: 36 Gender: Female Appearance: Personality: Saffron is an adrenaline junkie with a quick temper, always living life to the fullest. She often charges into action before considering the overall tactical situation and sometimes leaves herself in difficult situations having failed to consider the consequences of her actions. She's smart and learns quickly in a scholastic environment, but only when carefully monitored and guided to ensure her attention doesn't wander off topic. Openly homosexual, Saffron has been married to her lesbian life partner for many happy years. Biography: Seen early on as a rising star Saffron was warmly accepted into the advanced officer training program at the academy based solely on her academic results and early aptitude evaluations. She completed her training in short order, scoring highly in tactical assessments and battle simulations with her instructors making note of her unwavering bravery and dedication to her goals. Things fell apart soon after that when during her first official mission she lost over half her squad when trying to perform a suicidal frontal attack against an entrenched enemy. Placed under psychological review pending court martial she was cleared of all charges, insisting that the tactic was sound given the circumstances and the intel provided to her at the time of operational planning. Her psychiatrist agreed that she was fit to return to duty, but noted a possible Messiah Complex or megalomaniac tendencies which should be monitored in future. Returning to action Saffron found command difficult. Word of her previous failure, and rumours that she was undergoing psychological treatment, undermined her position with the troops to whom she was assigned, and despite several successful operations she soon found herself being reassigned between divisions as her superiors tried to have the black sheep placed under anyone's command but their own. Things finally reached a head when Saffron received orders for her fifth transfer in two years. Facing off with her CO what started as a calm interview soon became violent, first with angry words thrown and then punches. Once again facing court martial, this time for striking a superior officer, Saffron found herself stripped of her commission and reenlisted as a Warrant Officer. Realise this could be a breaking point in her career Saffron's psychiatrist made arrangements for her to be transferred to a specialist program which would allow the Service to make best use of her skills rather than losing her altogether. Specializations: Skills:* Basic small arms training * Advanced combat training in close quarters combat and swordsmanship * Advanced tactical training, lapsed * Experienced knowledge of military protocols and procedures * Holds degrees in military history and humanities, but most of her knowledge is now outdated * Expert chef Suit Augmentation - Energy Shielding Shield Armour: In combat Saffron can activate her suit's shield capacitor units encasing herself in dense optical armour which protects her from concussive and kinetic attacks. The armour reacts to impacts by diverting power to the point of pressure, making it more effective when dealing with fewer targets. When facing attacks from multiple angles the armour strains to adjust fast enough (requiring 0.3 seconds to recover from each incoming attack) but when facing sustained attacks from a single assailant the armour can shunt all available power to a single facing, making it perfect for dealing with rapid fire weaponry. Since the armour prevents material passing through it also grants limited effectiveness against area of effect attacks, such as flames, liquids and gases, however it cannot protect against high frequency energy attacks such as heat, radiation and electronic interference. Suit Augmentation - Shield Emitters Shield Projection: By focusing the shield emitters in her hands Saffron can create either walls or blades of light which can be used to either defend or attack. When using her Shield Wall ability Saffron can create upto two shields (one per hand) a meter in diameter upto a maximum of three meters away. Unlike her armour these shields are static and have a fixed protection rating but may be easily repositioned on the fly simply by moving her hands to face a new direction. Energy Blades: When using her hand emitters to generate blades Saffron focuses the power of her shields into a single, almost indestructible monomolecular surface capable of easily slicing through practically any material. As the blades are composed of pure energy they are subject to disruption from other energy sources, such as other shields and similarly powered blades. Upto two blades can be created at a time (one per hand) and as they use the same emitters as her projected shields the two systems are mutually exclusive for each hand, although Saffron often chooses to equip a shield with one hand and a blade with the other, effortlessly switching between the two in the heat of combat. Energy Wave: Saffron can choose to overload her hand shield emitters, causing them to send out a powerful burst of energy in the direction she is pointing her hand at the time of discharge. This ability requires her to shut down the shield or sword she's using for at least two seconds in order to charge the capacitor and also burns out the emitter when used, requiring a cold restart to be performed which takes several minutes. Dual Service Pistols In order to cover herself on those occasions when either she's unable to close with the enemy to use her blades or her suit is recovering from overexertion Saffron carries a pair of standard-issue service pistols as backup weapons. While she's proficient with these handguns she's in no way a marksman, often relying on sustained suppressive fire until heavier support can reach her, or her suit is back to full power and ready for some hands on action. [[PSYCHOLOGICAL REPORT]] Warrant Officer Bridges shows signs of developing an inferiority complex based around the perceived persecution and ostracisation she has suffered from her fellow service personnel in recent years. In regards to any anger management issues she may have, it is my belief that the recent incident was a 'flashpoint' event caused by the ongoing treatment she had been receiving and not an indication of any deeper problems. No further action is advised at this time. I highly recommend she be placed into a high-profile programme which will not only make best use of her obvious combat proficiencies but also grant her the positive exposure she requires to stabilise her condition at this time. A small, tight-knit team would be preferable as it would allow her to form meaningful bonds with her colleagues on a more intimate basis, improving her perception of her fellow soldiers. Warrant Officer Bridges is hereby declared fit for duty and has been granted permission to resume her duties as soon as possible.</s> <\|message\|>Cyprian Sigmund "Oh, don't say that," Cyprian interjected once again, still standing from his last speech. "Each one of us is the best there is in what we do. The very reason you're here is because of your unique skills. That's only something a 'real person' could pull-off." He swung his finger in a swiping motion to point at everyone in the room quickly. "That goes for all of you. I may be a cocky bastard, but I am very confident in all of you, and you can be sure that I will do my best to keep you all alive. I certainly hope that each of you feel the same way..." His finger dropped as his expression turned very serious. "The eight of us were hand picked out of millions of people. Our missions will not be easy, and 'normal' soldiers would most certainly die if they had to do what we will be doing. So keep your chins up, your minds clear, and shake off the antisocial tendencies. The seven people you see in this room will be your family for quite some time." At the resolution of his rant, Cyprian sat on the table that had each Sabre's papers on them, pushing sheets out of his way as he sat down. He crossed his arms and examined his companions.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges Realising that she'd been dismissed, or as close to being dismissed as she was likely to get in this loose-knit outfit, Saffron dropped back down into her seat. She was glad to get off her feet, the pain in her back from the surgery she'd undergone less than a week before was still causing her some difficulties, despite her excellent physical health otherwise. Taking a moment to stretch her knees and arch her spine, Saffron quickly dropped back into her seated attention, enduring the discomfort she was feeling as she look up at the CO. It was quite an inspiring little speech, and she recognised it from one of the many she'd been taught back at the Academy. Hopefully this would all be over soon and they could get on with whatever it was the lucky eight had been selected for.</s> <\|message\|>Seth Garron Family... The word seemed alien to Seth. The man using the word talked of "antisocial behavior", which wasn't the case. Is there a problem with not seeing the point in talking? I'm just not used to needing a voice. I'm a soldier. A number. No matter what this commander says. I will have my assignment. I do it, and I get out. No need to talk, except for updating the handler or remote base about my situation. Why is that so hard? Seth took some mental notes about the others: - The sixth chair's owner has yet to speak, change his line of sight, or look at anyone. Seemed like-minded about talking. - Commander is trying to force everyone to talk, maybe even to the point of forcing awkwarness. Check back on his motivations. - 09, Bridges, is concerned about chain of command. And looks attractive. - The Mad Doctor is overqualified in intellect, yet seems to lack physical qualifications. He is supposed to be tagging along in missions, presumedly. Seth stifles a sigh. Great. We're a rag-tag group of qualified soldiers. We sound like the start of some war video game...</s> <\|message\|>Jax "Ghost Reaper" Orion Jax kept playing with his Knife. He was less rigid then the rest as even though he never looked he saw everything. Things were less formal in Spec ops, chain of command less clear. They didn't answer to a unit but usually higher. In truth Jax never knew who gave him missions, just a mission would come down,there squad leader would brief and they were off. Occasionally they would be approached as individuals and giving missions. Jax him self having to do this several times. Every one was speaking, talking about this and that. 09 was talking bout how she was a soldier and not a "real person". She almost sounded like she came right out of boot. The doctor was talking next as it was getting obvious who the personalities in the group was. There was always a few, people who stood out more then others. Jax him self never much saw a problem with this, it simply wasn't him. As a moment of silence fell over he kept playing with his knife. He would let the others keep carrying on, this briefing wasn't going to until every one was finished saying there piece and Jax was a very patient person. He decided to take this moment to let speak so they weren't waiting on him. Catching his knife he stopped playing with it for a bit "Sabre 06, Jax Orion. Call sign Ghost Reaper, Sniper" he spoke very straight forward and deliberate, just loud enough for those in the room to hear him.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges Saf smiled to herself as she heard Sgt Orion's introduction. He reminder her of other snipers she'd worked with in the past, the successful ones at least. It took a certain mindset to be able to sit in place, sometimes for days at a time, waiting for that perfect moment to take the shot and Sgt Orion seemed to fit the model perfectly. He'd be a good asset for the team. It took a moment for Saf to realise she was still making the same mistake in her thinking, calling her colleagues by their old ranks. She'd have to learn to call them Sabres, was she was too.</s> <\|message\|>Rory Phayne As the Sabres introduced themselves, Rory remained quiet. He could feel tension in the air but in a good way. It was the same feeling Phayne got before a mission-prickly skin and clarity of mind. Phayne relaxed and let the others speak, but soon grew anxious. ..don't they know there is a war on? And we're losing?.. he thought, immediately scolding himself....of course they do. These are the best the military can muster. This is all going somewhere...</s> <\|message\|>Seth Garron The corner of Seth's mouth moved up when he heard 06's intro. His suspicion of the like-mindedness on talking was confirmed. Only speaking when necessary and only what is necessary. The sniper chose his moment to speak as he probably chose when to shoot, using nothing less than the perfect timing. There was sizable silence before he spoke, then silence fell again afterwards. Sweet silence. It's the only time I can truly think to myself. This is nice, even though they're making their own tension at this point, it's interestng to see how they do with social tension. Heavy, 03, seems to... enjoy it? It's not like we're awaiting deployment to shoot down dozens of foreigners or federal enemies. Seth's focus on 03's reaction unintentionally forced his face into what would appear to be a scowl or glare. It's simply Seth's anylitical face, but it has before been seen as a glare or, in more common terms, a bitch face. Regardless, Seth still identifies with 06 closest since they both have a liking to silence unless it's absolutely necessary to speak. In recon training, Seth learned to only speak in whispers at most, and that's only if he needed to relay information to his handler that couldn't be given through other means of communication to the observing recon team. Since he spent a few years in the recon "business", Seth learned to keep quiet. It may also have to do with not having used his creative half of his brain since elementary school, but that has yet to be proven. Well, to a definitive point. It's been theorized by all the psychologists he's been examined by, but there's no concrete evidence. Yet.</s> <\|message\|>Jackson Indar After the quiet man sitting next to him finished his introduction, Jackson stood up, pushing the chair back a small distance. He cleared his throat, ready to introduce himself. "Hi, my name is Jackson Indar, Sabre 07, and I guess ex-Lieutenant. I'm the combat medic, as they say. I'll be keeping you guys alive in the heat of battle" He said, nodding his head slightly as he said his name. Everyone probably already knew that, but it didn't hurt to reiterate it. He sat back down and looked around at the other faces in the room. The dossier he had gotten about the other Sabres had been fairly accurate so far. 04 and 06 were very quiet, saying next to nothing for their introductions. 08 had surprised him by interjecting and boasting, but even the brief list of his accolades attached to the dossier were incredibly impressive for one man. Jackson adjusted his collar, making sure that it was straight enough. "Uh, so is that everyone then?" Jackson asked no one in particular.</s>	<\|message\|>Saffron Bridges "Uh, so is that everyone then?" "Everyone other than 'Overwatch'." Saf responded, speaking before she even realised the words were coming out of her mouth. Quickly snapping her jaw shut she stiffened her pose, hoping that speaking out of turn wouldn't cause any problems. The medic had seemed... nice, she supposed. A little unsure of himself maybe, but if his file was anything to go by then he was at least proficient in his craft. Saffron tended not to like having too many medics around, it made troops take dangerous risks if they thought there was someone who'd just patch them up after every fight available at the drop of a hat, but for some reason she felt reassured to know that the squad would have the support of an experienced field medic along for the ride.</s>
<\|description\|>Saffron Bridges Sabre09 Military Rank: Warrant officer Age: 36 Gender: Female Appearance: Personality: Saffron is an adrenaline junkie with a quick temper, always living life to the fullest. She often charges into action before considering the overall tactical situation and sometimes leaves herself in difficult situations having failed to consider the consequences of her actions. She's smart and learns quickly in a scholastic environment, but only when carefully monitored and guided to ensure her attention doesn't wander off topic. Openly homosexual, Saffron has been married to her lesbian life partner for many happy years. Biography: Seen early on as a rising star Saffron was warmly accepted into the advanced officer training program at the academy based solely on her academic results and early aptitude evaluations. She completed her training in short order, scoring highly in tactical assessments and battle simulations with her instructors making note of her unwavering bravery and dedication to her goals. Things fell apart soon after that when during her first official mission she lost over half her squad when trying to perform a suicidal frontal attack against an entrenched enemy. Placed under psychological review pending court martial she was cleared of all charges, insisting that the tactic was sound given the circumstances and the intel provided to her at the time of operational planning. Her psychiatrist agreed that she was fit to return to duty, but noted a possible Messiah Complex or megalomaniac tendencies which should be monitored in future. Returning to action Saffron found command difficult. Word of her previous failure, and rumours that she was undergoing psychological treatment, undermined her position with the troops to whom she was assigned, and despite several successful operations she soon found herself being reassigned between divisions as her superiors tried to have the black sheep placed under anyone's command but their own. Things finally reached a head when Saffron received orders for her fifth transfer in two years. Facing off with her CO what started as a calm interview soon became violent, first with angry words thrown and then punches. Once again facing court martial, this time for striking a superior officer, Saffron found herself stripped of her commission and reenlisted as a Warrant Officer. Realise this could be a breaking point in her career Saffron's psychiatrist made arrangements for her to be transferred to a specialist program which would allow the Service to make best use of her skills rather than losing her altogether. Specializations: Skills:* Basic small arms training * Advanced combat training in close quarters combat and swordsmanship * Advanced tactical training, lapsed * Experienced knowledge of military protocols and procedures * Holds degrees in military history and humanities, but most of her knowledge is now outdated * Expert chef Suit Augmentation - Energy Shielding Shield Armour: In combat Saffron can activate her suit's shield capacitor units encasing herself in dense optical armour which protects her from concussive and kinetic attacks. The armour reacts to impacts by diverting power to the point of pressure, making it more effective when dealing with fewer targets. When facing attacks from multiple angles the armour strains to adjust fast enough (requiring 0.3 seconds to recover from each incoming attack) but when facing sustained attacks from a single assailant the armour can shunt all available power to a single facing, making it perfect for dealing with rapid fire weaponry. Since the armour prevents material passing through it also grants limited effectiveness against area of effect attacks, such as flames, liquids and gases, however it cannot protect against high frequency energy attacks such as heat, radiation and electronic interference. Suit Augmentation - Shield Emitters Shield Projection: By focusing the shield emitters in her hands Saffron can create either walls or blades of light which can be used to either defend or attack. When using her Shield Wall ability Saffron can create upto two shields (one per hand) a meter in diameter upto a maximum of three meters away. Unlike her armour these shields are static and have a fixed protection rating but may be easily repositioned on the fly simply by moving her hands to face a new direction. Energy Blades: When using her hand emitters to generate blades Saffron focuses the power of her shields into a single, almost indestructible monomolecular surface capable of easily slicing through practically any material. As the blades are composed of pure energy they are subject to disruption from other energy sources, such as other shields and similarly powered blades. Upto two blades can be created at a time (one per hand) and as they use the same emitters as her projected shields the two systems are mutually exclusive for each hand, although Saffron often chooses to equip a shield with one hand and a blade with the other, effortlessly switching between the two in the heat of combat. Energy Wave: Saffron can choose to overload her hand shield emitters, causing them to send out a powerful burst of energy in the direction she is pointing her hand at the time of discharge. This ability requires her to shut down the shield or sword she's using for at least two seconds in order to charge the capacitor and also burns out the emitter when used, requiring a cold restart to be performed which takes several minutes. Dual Service Pistols In order to cover herself on those occasions when either she's unable to close with the enemy to use her blades or her suit is recovering from overexertion Saffron carries a pair of standard-issue service pistols as backup weapons. While she's proficient with these handguns she's in no way a marksman, often relying on sustained suppressive fire until heavier support can reach her, or her suit is back to full power and ready for some hands on action. [[PSYCHOLOGICAL REPORT]] Warrant Officer Bridges shows signs of developing an inferiority complex based around the perceived persecution and ostracisation she has suffered from her fellow service personnel in recent years. In regards to any anger management issues she may have, it is my belief that the recent incident was a 'flashpoint' event caused by the ongoing treatment she had been receiving and not an indication of any deeper problems. No further action is advised at this time. I highly recommend she be placed into a high-profile programme which will not only make best use of her obvious combat proficiencies but also grant her the positive exposure she requires to stabilise her condition at this time. A small, tight-knit team would be preferable as it would allow her to form meaningful bonds with her colleagues on a more intimate basis, improving her perception of her fellow soldiers. Warrant Officer Bridges is hereby declared fit for duty and has been granted permission to resume her duties as soon as possible.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges Fidgeting in her seat Saf began to really worry about this new assignment. A loose-knit group of specialists working for someone who refused to even properly identify themselves to their subordinates screamed black ops, and whenever they were involved the mission was sure to be something morally questionable. She hadn't even been given an explanation for the invasive surgeries she'd been forced to undergo before accepting this posting. Quickly glancing at the doctor sitting next to her Saf reached down and tapped her wristcomp, activating its video record function. If these people were upto something questionable she wanted to make sure they didn't leave her out to dry once the work was done.</s> <\|message\|>Jax "Ghost Reaper" Orion Jax was un-phased by the man appearing on the screen as he finally looked up moving his head toward the screen. To him none of this was new, missions with very little prep time or briefing. Though something caught his eye. He looked over to 09 as she reached down and he rose an eye brow. Jax was very perceptive, it was one of the things that made him such a good sniper. Looking down he saw her wrist device turning on. That made his brow furrow as he looked at her, "you" He looked at her pointing his knife at her "off" His knife moved to point down at her wrist. His tone was very serious as he wouldn't let anything compromise him, or his team. Very little of any of Jax's operations were recorded. Most of his record simply has operations he was a part of, what he did and his contributions were all classified at the highest levels. Anonymity was the name of the game. Once on mission, they no longer existed. The idea of being recorded bothered him as there would be a record of involvement. He wasn't about to change things now. It should be slightly obvious that he was black ops. His out of regs hair style for one, his slack wear of his uniform, and the fact that he wore no rank or insignia, only a name tape that said "Ghost Reaper"</s> <\|message\|>Seth Garron Seth heard the voice least heard, from 06. Looking over, the sniper had caught 09 trying to record using her wrist device. Noting the keen eye sight of the Sabre unit with 'Ghost Reaper' taped on his uniform, he also took note of how demilitarized the sniper was. Must be federally employed or highly classified missions. I'll keep an eye out since he also talks short and precicely. Seth wasn't exactly in uniform, but he wasn't specified to, so he dressed commonly. Especially since previous branches, ranks, and titles were basically expunged. At this point, Seth just wanted to get on with this briefing and get the mission. Since he was stealth-recon, he figured he'd be going in, getting info that wasn't locked down before the rest of them come in and kill every being that stands in their way. It's almost an art sneaking past opposing soldiers, knocking one out to "borrow" a uniform and identification, and getting everything possible with those credentials. Or, in the higher security areas, sneaking past everyone, slipping into a room by following somebody, and plugging in a USB worm host into a server room. It was a mental challenge to get into places that Seth couldn't get from any video game, board game, or personal challenge. Mental challenges is the one reason Seth stuck with the reconnaissance squad he was placed in. He could almost make it a game.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges Looking over at the former sergeant Saf was unimpressed with his passive threat and placed her hand onto her sidearm. "No," She answered back levelly, mimicking the longarm's tone. As it had already been made clear to her there was no rank here and he had no right to make demands of her, and unless he wanted to actually try and force her to do what he said she most certainly wasn't going to, especially not at knifepoint. She'd read Sgt Orion's file, and knew he was a skilled sniper and expert in stealth operations, but she was the close combat expert here and in the close confines of the briefing room she had the advantage.</s> <\|message\|>Jackson Indar Jackson put a hand on both Jax's knife hand and Saffrons' sidearm holster, motioning for them to stop. "Calm down, both of you. I won't have the first injury here in the briefing room, m'kay? We're a team now, remember?" Jackson attempted to defuse the tense situation. Teamwork would be what would make or break them, and distrust between them would surely be the death of them. He was just glad he could heal minor wounds without any tools, using his nanites. If the two did attack each other, he could at least heal them, like he said he would. Let's just hope it doesn't get to that.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges Slowly relaxing Saf slipped his pistol back into the holster and lifted her hand away, holding it up to show she meant no harm. All the while her eyes remained fixed on the sniper, unwavering and ready should he make any hostile move. Finally her eyes broke away from Sgt Orion and moved over to the screen. "I'm getting tired of all this bullshit," She said, her tone obviously riled, "I was told this was a military operation, but so far all I've seen is wasted time and pointless theatrics. If you have a mission for us then give us the intel and send us on our way. If not, let us get back to our duties."</s> <\|message\|>Jax "Ghost Reaper" Orion Jax watched as Saf put her hand on her side arm. He waited for her to make a move, they were both experts in hand to hand combat, hell everyone in the room probably was, But she specialized in it. But she was brash and aggressive, tended to act before thinking. These were things he could take advantage of, these were also things you didn't want in a black operative. Though he felt the Docs hands on his own as he lowered his knife, but kept his eyes on saf. His own posture never changed, he was still sitting in a relaxed state as he flipped and spun his knife around once more. Looking at her, she had another outburst. In Jax's eyes she was quickly becoming the biggest liability. In the field this spat wouldn't effect Jax, he had team mates that he didn't get along with before. Once on the field though mission took priority. Jax had learned to separate himself, Jax became Ghost. Her he wasn't so sure about, she seemed to controlled by emotion. He turned his head over to the screen once more as he pushed everything down. Right not it didn't really matter, but that didn't mean he wouldn't be watching her closely in the field to see how she act.s</s> <\|message\|>Seth Garron With all of these volatile emotions flaring up, at least in 09 and 07, Seth thought that trying to reason these motions down would be the most effective way to move forward, since apparently this group isn't a one-time thing. "Oh-Nine. This isn't standard military op. It's closer to a black op, which is still military. That would mean discretion is key. If we don't succeed, we have nobody to turn to. It's just us, meaning team cohesion is also key. All of us are very different and we should be trusting of each other, and our mission director, as this won't be our last mission together, I presume." Seth read her dossier. He knew she had trust issues. Trying to reason trust from her seemed like the most efficient way to make her trust someone. "He'll give us the information we need, then we carry out the mission. Nothing else needs to be done. A recording isn't necessary unless you're just forgetful. Even then, seven others will have heard the same knowledge and can repeat it to you if you do forget." Using a disguised insult would help at least take her focus off of the recording itself and, if it worked, she'd be angry at him for insulting her memory. Once finished, Seth maintained eye contact with 09, awaiting her response.</s>	<\|message\|>Saffron Bridges Saf nodded her head towards Sgt Garron, acknowledging his words if not heeding them. The non-com obviously had little in the way of actual battle command and his blatant attempts at psychological manipulation were as clear to her as they had been during her numerous psychological evaluations. He was trying to smooth the waters though, even if a little hamfistedly, and she appreciated his attempt. Now if everyone would just get to the point and explain why it was she'd been cut open and tortured for days she could get the show on the road and actually put her suffering to good use.</s>
<\|description\|>Saffron Bridges Sabre09 Military Rank: Warrant officer Age: 36 Gender: Female Appearance: Personality: Saffron is an adrenaline junkie with a quick temper, always living life to the fullest. She often charges into action before considering the overall tactical situation and sometimes leaves herself in difficult situations having failed to consider the consequences of her actions. She's smart and learns quickly in a scholastic environment, but only when carefully monitored and guided to ensure her attention doesn't wander off topic. Openly homosexual, Saffron has been married to her lesbian life partner for many happy years. Biography: Seen early on as a rising star Saffron was warmly accepted into the advanced officer training program at the academy based solely on her academic results and early aptitude evaluations. She completed her training in short order, scoring highly in tactical assessments and battle simulations with her instructors making note of her unwavering bravery and dedication to her goals. Things fell apart soon after that when during her first official mission she lost over half her squad when trying to perform a suicidal frontal attack against an entrenched enemy. Placed under psychological review pending court martial she was cleared of all charges, insisting that the tactic was sound given the circumstances and the intel provided to her at the time of operational planning. Her psychiatrist agreed that she was fit to return to duty, but noted a possible Messiah Complex or megalomaniac tendencies which should be monitored in future. Returning to action Saffron found command difficult. Word of her previous failure, and rumours that she was undergoing psychological treatment, undermined her position with the troops to whom she was assigned, and despite several successful operations she soon found herself being reassigned between divisions as her superiors tried to have the black sheep placed under anyone's command but their own. Things finally reached a head when Saffron received orders for her fifth transfer in two years. Facing off with her CO what started as a calm interview soon became violent, first with angry words thrown and then punches. Once again facing court martial, this time for striking a superior officer, Saffron found herself stripped of her commission and reenlisted as a Warrant Officer. Realise this could be a breaking point in her career Saffron's psychiatrist made arrangements for her to be transferred to a specialist program which would allow the Service to make best use of her skills rather than losing her altogether. Specializations: Skills:* Basic small arms training * Advanced combat training in close quarters combat and swordsmanship * Advanced tactical training, lapsed * Experienced knowledge of military protocols and procedures * Holds degrees in military history and humanities, but most of her knowledge is now outdated * Expert chef Suit Augmentation - Energy Shielding Shield Armour: In combat Saffron can activate her suit's shield capacitor units encasing herself in dense optical armour which protects her from concussive and kinetic attacks. The armour reacts to impacts by diverting power to the point of pressure, making it more effective when dealing with fewer targets. When facing attacks from multiple angles the armour strains to adjust fast enough (requiring 0.3 seconds to recover from each incoming attack) but when facing sustained attacks from a single assailant the armour can shunt all available power to a single facing, making it perfect for dealing with rapid fire weaponry. Since the armour prevents material passing through it also grants limited effectiveness against area of effect attacks, such as flames, liquids and gases, however it cannot protect against high frequency energy attacks such as heat, radiation and electronic interference. Suit Augmentation - Shield Emitters Shield Projection: By focusing the shield emitters in her hands Saffron can create either walls or blades of light which can be used to either defend or attack. When using her Shield Wall ability Saffron can create upto two shields (one per hand) a meter in diameter upto a maximum of three meters away. Unlike her armour these shields are static and have a fixed protection rating but may be easily repositioned on the fly simply by moving her hands to face a new direction. Energy Blades: When using her hand emitters to generate blades Saffron focuses the power of her shields into a single, almost indestructible monomolecular surface capable of easily slicing through practically any material. As the blades are composed of pure energy they are subject to disruption from other energy sources, such as other shields and similarly powered blades. Upto two blades can be created at a time (one per hand) and as they use the same emitters as her projected shields the two systems are mutually exclusive for each hand, although Saffron often chooses to equip a shield with one hand and a blade with the other, effortlessly switching between the two in the heat of combat. Energy Wave: Saffron can choose to overload her hand shield emitters, causing them to send out a powerful burst of energy in the direction she is pointing her hand at the time of discharge. This ability requires her to shut down the shield or sword she's using for at least two seconds in order to charge the capacitor and also burns out the emitter when used, requiring a cold restart to be performed which takes several minutes. Dual Service Pistols In order to cover herself on those occasions when either she's unable to close with the enemy to use her blades or her suit is recovering from overexertion Saffron carries a pair of standard-issue service pistols as backup weapons. While she's proficient with these handguns she's in no way a marksman, often relying on sustained suppressive fire until heavier support can reach her, or her suit is back to full power and ready for some hands on action. [[PSYCHOLOGICAL REPORT]] Warrant Officer Bridges shows signs of developing an inferiority complex based around the perceived persecution and ostracisation she has suffered from her fellow service personnel in recent years. In regards to any anger management issues she may have, it is my belief that the recent incident was a 'flashpoint' event caused by the ongoing treatment she had been receiving and not an indication of any deeper problems. No further action is advised at this time. I highly recommend she be placed into a high-profile programme which will not only make best use of her obvious combat proficiencies but also grant her the positive exposure she requires to stabilise her condition at this time. A small, tight-knit team would be preferable as it would allow her to form meaningful bonds with her colleagues on a more intimate basis, improving her perception of her fellow soldiers. Warrant Officer Bridges is hereby declared fit for duty and has been granted permission to resume her duties as soon as possible.</s> <\|message\|>Jackson Indar Jackson remained silent for majority of the trip, eyes glued to the majestic scene of the Earth outside the viewport. It was awe-inspiring, and it was no surprise that it was a beacon of hope for the Conglomerate. Pulling his eyes away from the window and his mind back to reality, he began wondering about many things at once. What kind of gear are we gonna get? I know I'm a medic, but what kind of stuff will I be using? What about a gun? And what will everyone else use? Questions whizzed around Indar's head faster than he could answer them. Jackson turned his head to 05, who before that point had said nothing. "Well James, great to have you on board. As you probably know, Jackson Indar" Jackson introduced himself again, outstretching his arm to the other man for a handshake. "By god, this elevator has got to be almost there by now, right?" Jackson asked.</s> <\|message\|>Seth Garron Seth's mind began churning again with the new off-dossier info on the newly spoken tech savant. Hmm... More attempts at lowering off-duty tensions. Do these agents keep off-duty feelings while on the battlefield? Risky to do so. One would think that any feelings towards a teammate outside of combat would most logically be compartmentalized to off-duty, while during a mission, the most critical thing would be ensuring safety of as many operatives as possible. -Deductions: 05 and 09 will become closest, due to similar relationship-mending goals. 07 will be second-closest with 09. Also attempting to keep positive mannerisms with all teammates. -Note to self: check for social normality in keeping all team relationships positive. Video games have proven otherwise. Source - Alpha Protocol. Relationships built on "owing" one another in the form of favors and working together based on goals, not feelings. Internet search to follow... -Tactics: 05 would be optimal for flanking with robotics and numbers on his side. 09 would be second-best. They will most likely bond best; therefore, they could flank simultaneously, increasing flank effectiveness. Shields and robotics. Least casualties. The 'Tactics' note made Seth rethink the 'one-(wo)man distraction battalion', and now thinking of a two-man distraction armada, with 05's robots on his side.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges As the elevator finally ground to a halt the party were faced with a set of heavy cargo bay doors emblazoned with the sign A23F. Quickly stepping off the platform Saf made her way towards them, watching with a mixture of trepidation and excitement as the access hissed open in front of her. Pausing for a moment she looked back at her new CO, reminded for a moment that she still had to respect the chain-of-command, no matter how informal her commander liked to keep it. "Sir?" She asked cautiously, "Permission to proceed?"</s> <\|message\|>Scott Riley Scott answered Saf's question, "Yes. Right this way, everyone." He led everyone to the door, stepping to the side in order to access the lock. It was a standard hand print lock, displaying a silhouette of a hand as it prompted authentication aloud. Placing his hand on the lock, a blue light appeared as a bar on-screen and swept from top to bottom. The scan finished, causing the door to slide open sideways away from the lock. "Alright everyone, you'll know what to do as soon as you step inside." Entering first, Scott couldn't help but smile as he saw each of the Sabre Suits lined up along the far wall, in numerical order. Varying in size and appearence drastically, they were a glorious sight to behold indeed. Proceeding to his suit, Scott began to outfit himself. In other spots on the walls and in crates on the floor were other supplies and armament, such as pistols, assault riffles, combat knives, grenades, first-aid kits, riot shields, and even a few launchers. This was an armory designed specifically for the current Sabres, and it certainly showed.</s> <\|message\|>Jackson Indar Indar smiled as he entered the armory. The clean, steel walls were lined with suits, armour and weaponry, ready just for them. Indar approached the suit on the wall with '07' over it in simple block numbers. Walking over, he examined the suit he'd be wearing. It was made up of two parts, a rough cloth material in a tan sort of colour and blue armour plates over the top, covering his arms, lower legs, torso and head. There was also a table in front of the suit, with his equipment laid out on it. Immediately catching his eye was an assault rifle. It had a strange magazine, almost octagonal in shape. He found it strange, but assumed that it would probably hold more ammo that way. Moving on, there was a white pistol with a revolver barrel. The barrel, instead of pushing out to one side and spinning to reload, half of the barrel would push out either way, and cartridges would be loaded that way. Strange weapons, but they look effective Indar remarked in his head. He moved on to the seven thin and long cylindrical objects next to the guns. They looked similar, but two of them were different from the other five. Five of them had three short, needle-like extrusions at the bottom and a white button at the top. The other two had a pin at the top and were slightly shorter and thicker. It took Jackson a second to realise what he was looking at. They were advanced med-kits, injected into the arm. They alleviated pain and kept people alive for longer. The other two were things he didn't even know existed. They were healing grenades, and when thrown towards allies, a burst of chemicals and nanites would rejuvenate and heal his allies. Impressed by the developers, Jackson began suiting up, the med-kits and grenades fitting nicely on one side of the belt, and his revolver on the other. There was one other thing on a small shelf underneath the table. It was a white box with a red cross on it. There was a small note on a piece of paper sitting on the box. "In case all else fails... :)" Indar read aloud as he retrieved the first-aid box. The handle of the box fit nicely on two hooks located on his lower back. Jackson smiled once more as he looked down at all the advanced Sabre gear he was wearing. "I think I'm gonna like it here" He remarked.</s> <\|message\|>Cyprian Sigmund "Finally, let us see if my intuition and study has allowed for the most ergonomic integration." Cyprian wondered out loud as he approached his suit. Each outfit was sealed within either own large glass cylinder, with a base of machinery and computational systems displaying information. Cyprian places his hand on the screen in front of his suit, as Scott did to open the door. After doing this, the glass rose from around his suit, and he pulled it out of its chamber. The flexible grey and black exoskin was a separate entity from the silver and white armor that would lay around it. After slipping on the skin and donning the armor, he tapped a screen on his wrist, and several lights began to blink and glow across his wrists and around his visor. On each arm, machinery moves down from his shoulders to his forearms, and piece themselves together into two cannon-like items. These cannons rest on the outside of his forearms, keeping his hands free. "Ahh yes, this feels good." He said as he stretches and flexes in the armor, testing its mobility and expressing satisfaction with his agility. "What do the rest of you think? Each of these suits have been designed specially for you. Try them on! I hope you will enjoy them."</s>	<\|message\|>Saffron Bridges As she walked down through the bay Saf couldn't help but be impressed by the heavy suits of power armour arrayed on their display stands, or the ample amount of weaponry, ammunition and supplies piled in around them. Her excitement began to build as she reached her own suit, only to quickly dissipate with surprise. "Is this some kind of joke?" She asked the room in general as she studied the Sabre suit assigned to her. Unlike some of the others the suit appeared to be little more than a bodyglove with a few armoured plates attached to it, barely any better than the standard-issue gear worn by most soldiers. Reaching out she picked one of the armoured gloves off of the stand to examine it more closely. As she stood turn in the gauntlet over between her fingers Saf felt a surge of energy rising from within her, pulsing from the devices which had so recently been implanted inside her. In her hands the gauntlet began to glow as its surface began to feel oily and slippery. Before she could stop it the gauntlet slipped out from between her fingers, the glow dying before the armoured glove clattered to the deck. "What the fu..?" Saf muttered, eying the glove carefully. The power had obvious come from within her, she'd felt it after all, but what exactly it was she couldn't even begin to guess. Prodding the glove tentatively with her foot Saf looked back down the room and saw the others starting to suit up in their own armour and with one last look down at the mystery gauntlet she let out a deep sigh. "What've you gotten yourself into this time..?" She asked herself, pulling her service uniform off over her head before reaching out for the new suit which was waiting for her to wear.</s>
<\|description\|>Saffron Bridges Sabre09 Military Rank: Warrant officer Age: 36 Gender: Female Appearance: Personality: Saffron is an adrenaline junkie with a quick temper, always living life to the fullest. She often charges into action before considering the overall tactical situation and sometimes leaves herself in difficult situations having failed to consider the consequences of her actions. She's smart and learns quickly in a scholastic environment, but only when carefully monitored and guided to ensure her attention doesn't wander off topic. Openly homosexual, Saffron has been married to her lesbian life partner for many happy years. Biography: Seen early on as a rising star Saffron was warmly accepted into the advanced officer training program at the academy based solely on her academic results and early aptitude evaluations. She completed her training in short order, scoring highly in tactical assessments and battle simulations with her instructors making note of her unwavering bravery and dedication to her goals. Things fell apart soon after that when during her first official mission she lost over half her squad when trying to perform a suicidal frontal attack against an entrenched enemy. Placed under psychological review pending court martial she was cleared of all charges, insisting that the tactic was sound given the circumstances and the intel provided to her at the time of operational planning. Her psychiatrist agreed that she was fit to return to duty, but noted a possible Messiah Complex or megalomaniac tendencies which should be monitored in future. Returning to action Saffron found command difficult. Word of her previous failure, and rumours that she was undergoing psychological treatment, undermined her position with the troops to whom she was assigned, and despite several successful operations she soon found herself being reassigned between divisions as her superiors tried to have the black sheep placed under anyone's command but their own. Things finally reached a head when Saffron received orders for her fifth transfer in two years. Facing off with her CO what started as a calm interview soon became violent, first with angry words thrown and then punches. Once again facing court martial, this time for striking a superior officer, Saffron found herself stripped of her commission and reenlisted as a Warrant Officer. Realise this could be a breaking point in her career Saffron's psychiatrist made arrangements for her to be transferred to a specialist program which would allow the Service to make best use of her skills rather than losing her altogether. Specializations: Skills:* Basic small arms training * Advanced combat training in close quarters combat and swordsmanship * Advanced tactical training, lapsed * Experienced knowledge of military protocols and procedures * Holds degrees in military history and humanities, but most of her knowledge is now outdated * Expert chef Suit Augmentation - Energy Shielding Shield Armour: In combat Saffron can activate her suit's shield capacitor units encasing herself in dense optical armour which protects her from concussive and kinetic attacks. The armour reacts to impacts by diverting power to the point of pressure, making it more effective when dealing with fewer targets. When facing attacks from multiple angles the armour strains to adjust fast enough (requiring 0.3 seconds to recover from each incoming attack) but when facing sustained attacks from a single assailant the armour can shunt all available power to a single facing, making it perfect for dealing with rapid fire weaponry. Since the armour prevents material passing through it also grants limited effectiveness against area of effect attacks, such as flames, liquids and gases, however it cannot protect against high frequency energy attacks such as heat, radiation and electronic interference. Suit Augmentation - Shield Emitters Shield Projection: By focusing the shield emitters in her hands Saffron can create either walls or blades of light which can be used to either defend or attack. When using her Shield Wall ability Saffron can create upto two shields (one per hand) a meter in diameter upto a maximum of three meters away. Unlike her armour these shields are static and have a fixed protection rating but may be easily repositioned on the fly simply by moving her hands to face a new direction. Energy Blades: When using her hand emitters to generate blades Saffron focuses the power of her shields into a single, almost indestructible monomolecular surface capable of easily slicing through practically any material. As the blades are composed of pure energy they are subject to disruption from other energy sources, such as other shields and similarly powered blades. Upto two blades can be created at a time (one per hand) and as they use the same emitters as her projected shields the two systems are mutually exclusive for each hand, although Saffron often chooses to equip a shield with one hand and a blade with the other, effortlessly switching between the two in the heat of combat. Energy Wave: Saffron can choose to overload her hand shield emitters, causing them to send out a powerful burst of energy in the direction she is pointing her hand at the time of discharge. This ability requires her to shut down the shield or sword she's using for at least two seconds in order to charge the capacitor and also burns out the emitter when used, requiring a cold restart to be performed which takes several minutes. Dual Service Pistols In order to cover herself on those occasions when either she's unable to close with the enemy to use her blades or her suit is recovering from overexertion Saffron carries a pair of standard-issue service pistols as backup weapons. While she's proficient with these handguns she's in no way a marksman, often relying on sustained suppressive fire until heavier support can reach her, or her suit is back to full power and ready for some hands on action. [[PSYCHOLOGICAL REPORT]] Warrant Officer Bridges shows signs of developing an inferiority complex based around the perceived persecution and ostracisation she has suffered from her fellow service personnel in recent years. In regards to any anger management issues she may have, it is my belief that the recent incident was a 'flashpoint' event caused by the ongoing treatment she had been receiving and not an indication of any deeper problems. No further action is advised at this time. I highly recommend she be placed into a high-profile programme which will not only make best use of her obvious combat proficiencies but also grant her the positive exposure she requires to stabilise her condition at this time. A small, tight-knit team would be preferable as it would allow her to form meaningful bonds with her colleagues on a more intimate basis, improving her perception of her fellow soldiers. Warrant Officer Bridges is hereby declared fit for duty and has been granted permission to resume her duties as soon as possible.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges Snapping the last of the armoured plates into place Saf relaxed for a moment and let her suit settle into place before starting a few warm-up exercises. The rig felt no different than any other she'd worn in her career, if anything it was a little less protective than most she'd used. While her chest was well covered and the interlocking plates running over her abdomen and spine moved smoothly and provided cover her arms and legs only had plates covering about a third of their total area, with her inner arms and thigh only protected by the flexible underlayer which was little more than an alloy weave. Halfway through her exercises Saf felt the power building inside her again and quickly stopped moving. Carefully straightening up as the power flowed through her Saf realised her entire body was beginning to glow with the same light she'd seen on the gauntlet before. Moving slowly she tried to touch her arm, but as she drew near the glowing energy seemed to merge, letting her hand pass straight through without difficulty. 'Well, at least I won't have a problem getting the damn thing off when the time comes,' She thought derisively, still not convinced as to the suit's value. As a thought came over her she quickly lifted her foot and examined the sole of her boot. Almost instantly the glowing field snapped into place, enveloping her feet from below. 'They thought of that, too, huh?' She thought, starting to be impressed by the designer's foresight. As she lowered her foot again Saf felt a moment's pressure before her boot touched the floor, the field shutting off as it detected the constant pressure demanding contact with the deck plating. Moving over to the rack of weapons Saf ran her eyes over the selection of a moment before reaching out for an SMG which was close at hand. 'Guess I'll need a weapon...' she thought to herself. An instant later the SMG exploded in a shower of metal fragments, skewered on a shaft of energy emanating from Saf's hand. Pulling her gauntlet back quickly Saf glanced down the row at the rest of her squad sheepishly, wondering if any of them had noticed her little mishap.</s> <\|message\|>Seth Garron Seth didn't see the need to respond to anyone as they rode down the elevator. Staying silent and observing was his speciality, so why not use it? Silence was his only constant friend, and observation was the best tool he had in his arsenal. No amount of chatting and aimlessly talking compared to simply watching a person act on their own accord, because people try to make themselves seem a certain way in conversations, and the only way to see that happening is observing multiple conversations with said person and find the things that match to use as a baseline for how they are. Seth walked off the elevator into his designated chamber and almost instinctively stripped once he saw his suit. It was outfitted to be as quiet and elusive as possible. He slips it on, noticing the tight fit, but not suffocating. More like putting on another layer of skin, due to how natural and thin it felt. Running through the test course was too easy. Though, it was only meant to test the suit's integration, not pose as a mental challenge. Or if it was, it did no good against Seth. Every camera was avoided, even the test camera that was supposed to serve as a starting point for the observing scientists. When Seth re-entered from the ending side, the scientists were baffled. And impressed. Having been told nothing except to run the course without being seen by any person or camera, Seth didn't know of a 'test camera' that he was supposed to be seen in to start the time, the sneaky stealth operative avoided that one, too. Waiting for others to finish their tests and calibrations, Seth sat down, checking out everyone else's armour and weapons. Seth unsheathed the knife from his right boot. His 'last chance bullet'. He'd only kill if he had to, which it shouldn't come to that. His job was to put eyes and ears in the enemy base, not kill them all. He collects all available info, then gets out, the latter being the more difficult of the two.</s>	<\|message\|>Saffron Bridges As she stepped into the testing area Saf heard the scientists' voices calling in through the radio built into her suit's helmet, "All you have to do is eliminate the turrets." That seems a little too easy, Saf thought to herself, she'd been in the same position on the battlefield a dozen times or more. All she had to do was keep in cover and move around to the turret's weak rear side in order to shut it down. As she sood waiting for the test to start, expecting panels to rise out of the floor to provide simulated battlefield terrain, Saf was surprised to see six turrets rising up out instead. Okay, they did say turrets, now where's the cover? Without warning the turrets began firing, steady streams of energy pulses tracking round towards the soldier as she stood in the empty space between them. By reflex Saf pulled her arms up to protect her face, feeling the surge of energy from the implants inside her body as she did. Saf's shielding sprung to life just as the first pulse hit, splattering harmlessly against the glowing field surrounding her. Okay, well that works too, she thought to herself as she stood in the middle of the maelstrom of energy, unharmed thanks to the wonders of modern technology, but how do I take the turrets down? Remembering back to her mishap in the armoury Saf reached her hand out towards the nearest turret and concentrated, instantly causing a beam of light to project from the focusing len set into her palm. The beam stopped short of the turret, stabilising as a blade about a meter long. Not quite what I hoped for, she thought with a smile, So it's a sword, I can work with that. Pushing off with her leading foot Saf had planned to sprint towards the turret, but instead she found herself launched several feet into the air, leaping clear of the turrets' energy blasts as the automated guns pivoted to try and catch up with her swift movements. Quickly recovering herself Saf shifted her weight, spinning vertically in the air to drop herself down behind the turret she'd been heading for. Woah, cool, she thought, reaching back and effortlessly slicing the turret in half with her blade, before quickly darting to one side as the others locked in on her once more. This is going to be easy! Pushing herself as fast as she could move Saf darted towards the next turret, dodging from side to side to avoid getting hit by the energy bolts flying towards her from its emitter lenses. Projecting blades from both hands to slice the turret into pieces she jumped forwards through the mechanical remains, using them for cover to close with the third. In less than a minute the soldier stood standing in the middle of the training arena surrounded by the sparking and burning machine parts which moments before had been the turrets. Looking up at the surveillance cameras recording her performance Saf relaxed, letting her blades and shielding snap off leaving her in the middle of the darkened chamber, lit only by the burning debris. "Is that all you got?" She asked, smiling inside her helmet.</s>
<\|description\|>Saffron Bridges Sabre09 Military Rank: Warrant officer Age: 36 Gender: Female Appearance: Personality: Saffron is an adrenaline junkie with a quick temper, always living life to the fullest. She often charges into action before considering the overall tactical situation and sometimes leaves herself in difficult situations having failed to consider the consequences of her actions. She's smart and learns quickly in a scholastic environment, but only when carefully monitored and guided to ensure her attention doesn't wander off topic. Openly homosexual, Saffron has been married to her lesbian life partner for many happy years. Biography: Seen early on as a rising star Saffron was warmly accepted into the advanced officer training program at the academy based solely on her academic results and early aptitude evaluations. She completed her training in short order, scoring highly in tactical assessments and battle simulations with her instructors making note of her unwavering bravery and dedication to her goals. Things fell apart soon after that when during her first official mission she lost over half her squad when trying to perform a suicidal frontal attack against an entrenched enemy. Placed under psychological review pending court martial she was cleared of all charges, insisting that the tactic was sound given the circumstances and the intel provided to her at the time of operational planning. Her psychiatrist agreed that she was fit to return to duty, but noted a possible Messiah Complex or megalomaniac tendencies which should be monitored in future. Returning to action Saffron found command difficult. Word of her previous failure, and rumours that she was undergoing psychological treatment, undermined her position with the troops to whom she was assigned, and despite several successful operations she soon found herself being reassigned between divisions as her superiors tried to have the black sheep placed under anyone's command but their own. Things finally reached a head when Saffron received orders for her fifth transfer in two years. Facing off with her CO what started as a calm interview soon became violent, first with angry words thrown and then punches. Once again facing court martial, this time for striking a superior officer, Saffron found herself stripped of her commission and reenlisted as a Warrant Officer. Realise this could be a breaking point in her career Saffron's psychiatrist made arrangements for her to be transferred to a specialist program which would allow the Service to make best use of her skills rather than losing her altogether. Specializations: Skills:* Basic small arms training * Advanced combat training in close quarters combat and swordsmanship * Advanced tactical training, lapsed * Experienced knowledge of military protocols and procedures * Holds degrees in military history and humanities, but most of her knowledge is now outdated * Expert chef Suit Augmentation - Energy Shielding Shield Armour: In combat Saffron can activate her suit's shield capacitor units encasing herself in dense optical armour which protects her from concussive and kinetic attacks. The armour reacts to impacts by diverting power to the point of pressure, making it more effective when dealing with fewer targets. When facing attacks from multiple angles the armour strains to adjust fast enough (requiring 0.3 seconds to recover from each incoming attack) but when facing sustained attacks from a single assailant the armour can shunt all available power to a single facing, making it perfect for dealing with rapid fire weaponry. Since the armour prevents material passing through it also grants limited effectiveness against area of effect attacks, such as flames, liquids and gases, however it cannot protect against high frequency energy attacks such as heat, radiation and electronic interference. Suit Augmentation - Shield Emitters Shield Projection: By focusing the shield emitters in her hands Saffron can create either walls or blades of light which can be used to either defend or attack. When using her Shield Wall ability Saffron can create upto two shields (one per hand) a meter in diameter upto a maximum of three meters away. Unlike her armour these shields are static and have a fixed protection rating but may be easily repositioned on the fly simply by moving her hands to face a new direction. Energy Blades: When using her hand emitters to generate blades Saffron focuses the power of her shields into a single, almost indestructible monomolecular surface capable of easily slicing through practically any material. As the blades are composed of pure energy they are subject to disruption from other energy sources, such as other shields and similarly powered blades. Upto two blades can be created at a time (one per hand) and as they use the same emitters as her projected shields the two systems are mutually exclusive for each hand, although Saffron often chooses to equip a shield with one hand and a blade with the other, effortlessly switching between the two in the heat of combat. Energy Wave: Saffron can choose to overload her hand shield emitters, causing them to send out a powerful burst of energy in the direction she is pointing her hand at the time of discharge. This ability requires her to shut down the shield or sword she's using for at least two seconds in order to charge the capacitor and also burns out the emitter when used, requiring a cold restart to be performed which takes several minutes. Dual Service Pistols In order to cover herself on those occasions when either she's unable to close with the enemy to use her blades or her suit is recovering from overexertion Saffron carries a pair of standard-issue service pistols as backup weapons. While she's proficient with these handguns she's in no way a marksman, often relying on sustained suppressive fire until heavier support can reach her, or her suit is back to full power and ready for some hands on action. [[PSYCHOLOGICAL REPORT]] Warrant Officer Bridges shows signs of developing an inferiority complex based around the perceived persecution and ostracisation she has suffered from her fellow service personnel in recent years. In regards to any anger management issues she may have, it is my belief that the recent incident was a 'flashpoint' event caused by the ongoing treatment she had been receiving and not an indication of any deeper problems. No further action is advised at this time. I highly recommend she be placed into a high-profile programme which will not only make best use of her obvious combat proficiencies but also grant her the positive exposure she requires to stabilise her condition at this time. A small, tight-knit team would be preferable as it would allow her to form meaningful bonds with her colleagues on a more intimate basis, improving her perception of her fellow soldiers. Warrant Officer Bridges is hereby declared fit for duty and has been granted permission to resume her duties as soon as possible.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges Walking back down to her locker after finishing her training session Saf almost bumped into Sgt. Garron. "Whoa, sorry I didn't..." She started to say, holding her hand up by way of apology. Immediately her suit took over, projecting a shield wall forwards and pinning Seth back against the rack of guns behind him. For a moment Saf didn't know what was happening, before recognising the golden yellow glow which surrounded her own suit being created in front of her. Gentle lowering her hand she watched the wall fade into nonexistence before bending down towards where Seth lay crumpled on the floor, "Sorry about that too... I guess these suits will take a little getting used to." She said with as friendly a tone as she could, holding her hand out and offering to help her teammate back up onto his feet.</s> <\|message\|>Seth Garron Seth didn't notice 09 walk by, but was going to wave off her apology. He wasn't able to due to the wall of energy her outstretched hand created, which, due to the force of its creation, pinned Seth against the weapons rack with his feet an inch or two off the ground. Once the female teammate realized it was her suit that had created the hard place that pinned Seth between it and the rock that was the weapons rack, she made it disappear with a releasing gesture. Once gone, Seth fell to the ground, catching himself on one foot and one knee. He was still getting used to the lack of nerve endings on his feet bottoms, or he would have stayed up on his feet. Interesting, gesture-based restricted energy fields. Useful for defensive and offensive tactics. Exponentially so for defensive, yet innovative uses may create more offensive possibilities. Note made. 09 seems to offer help and friendliness, which may just due to the fact that I haven't said anything towards her, forcing paranoia of possible negative feelings. Previously noted to keep her in a positive mood while outside combat to avoid possible battlefield quarrels; therefore, accepting her help and reciprocating positive attitude towards her would be most beneficial to avoiding possible future volatility. After deliberating and rationalizing, while feigning impact shock, Seth clasped his hand on the woman's forearm and used his own strength to get up, releasing once he regained balance. "Agreed." Nodding with a slight, forced smile, Seth checked his person to make sure nothing fell out, namely his boot-knife. That's all he saw as necessary to reply to 09's talk of the calibration of the self-to-suit integration. Small talk didn't interest him, but analysing the rest of the team's post-calibration conditions would seem to be priority, as there would be hurdles to overcome with having suits that acted as though they were exoskeletons for each person, enhancing their natural abilities further than the augmentations done on them have. Remembering the pores on his neck and the fact that they'd put a gauze pad over them post-operation, Seth lowered his suit's neck line to take off the gauze and test out his new breathing abilities. After sliding the neck line up, he was able to breathe without inhaling from his nose or mouth. After a few moments of consciously switching breathing patterns around, he was able to balance the pore-breathing and nostril breathing, causing almost no noticeable breathing noise from him. Almost completely silent when standing still and moving, with his feet made to make as close to no noise as possible.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges After helping Sgt. Garron to his feet Saf was a little unnerved by his unnatural smile and quickly turned her gaze away glancing down the row of lockers at the other Sabers before turning back to the strong silent one in front of her, "So, what toys did they give you?" She asked as Sgt. Garron picked at something on his neck. As she waited for a response something seemed... wrong with the former sergeant, and for a moment Saf couldn't quite place her finger on what it was, but suddenly it dawned on her. "Hey, are you alright?" She asked, her voice worried as she reached forwards and took hold of Sgt. Garron's arm, "Did you stop breathing or something?"</s> <\|message\|>Seth Garron Seth cocked an eyebrow and pulled his arm from 09's grasp. "Breathing pores: allows near-silent breathing." Deciding that it's courteous to continue to answer her question, Seth adds, "synthetic foot pads: silent steps when barefoot. Seventy-percent nightvision mode. Chameleon camo function in suit. ... Yours?" Getting through everything with minimal wording, Seth figures it's customary in conversation to ask the other about a subject with which each can describe, list, or otherwise talk about. This is the most interaction Seth has had with a live female since before his right brain shut down. Interesting. Compassionate towards teammates, even though volatile. Not afraid to cause pain nor relieve it. Very interesting dynamic. Or simply trying to gain favor after the events in the briefing room. Should keep an eye on emotional levels throughout the training mission. Find high and low points and their causes. Seth nods at 09 before turning and joining the others who have finished their self-suit integration calibration.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges Lifting her arms Saf activated her shielding and her blades, giving Sgt. Garron the full light show. "Protective shields and what I think are variable-yield emitters in the gauntlets. I'm still getting a hang on those." As she explained the Warrant Officer tried imagining different sized blades and to her delight the long sharp beams shortened and widened, changing from what she thought of as lances to machetes and finally to shovels. When she tried to pull them back further a gauge suddenly appeared on her HUD and the gauntlets whined for a moment before sending a wave of force up into the ceiling, leaving a noticeable dent in the armoured plating there. "Okay, and they can be overcharged to act as some sort of recharging ranged attack." She said, watching as the gauge slowly began to shrink. Saf tried to activate her blades again but the emitters just glowed weakly for a moment before cutting out. "Gotta be careful with that though, seems it breaks the blade emitters at least for a short while, there's a gauge here that seems to be indicating the recovery time." Saf tapped at her faceplate to indicate to Sgt. Garron what she was talking about, as she knew the HUD was probably an internal projection not visible to others. "There's also some sort of rainbow strength gauge over here," She continued, moving her hand to the other side of her helmet, "Which I think is something to do with the shielding. It flickered slightly while under constant attack by six training turrets, but I've no idea how much of an indication of actual shield strength." Turning to look over Sgt. Garron's shoulder Saf called down the room to the Sabre standing at the locker beside hers. "Hey, Dr. Sigmund? You said earlier you were involved with the creation of these... systems," She said, waving her hand down the front of the top-of-the-line, form-fitting, technological marvel of a cybersuit, "I was just wondering what the maximum protective power the shielding on my suit could withstand? In terms a soldier could understand, if you can."</s> <\|message\|>SABRE TEAM "Well, the short answer is 'a lot.' More so than the rest of us, actually." The doctor responded from the front of the testing course. He, alongside Scott, were already used to the suits. His voice echoed through the helms of all the Sabres as he spoke through radio. "Each suit was designed to compliment your strengths while covering your weaknesses. The capabilities of offense, defense, mobility and utility appropriately vary among all of us to begin with, and so too should any equipment you use."</s>	<\|message\|>Saffron Bridges Tilting her head Saf frowned inside her helmet, that sounded just a little too glib to be true, and for a moment she wondered if the Great Creator was just a little too proud of his accomplishments. "So, what? I'm invulnerable then?" Saf asked, her voice dripping with doubt. "Could this shielding of yours stop an entire enemy squad? A tank? An airstrike!?! How about if you dropped me from orbit? Would it protect me from the heat damage from the friction, or just eliminate the friction altogether?"</s>
<\|description\|>Seth Garron Sabre04 Military Rank: Sargent Age: 26 Sex: Male All clothing as well as the mask are black. Equiped with Chameleon-tech camoflage abilities built-in. Personality: Seth acts like he does on the battlefield- quiet. When Seth does talk, it's in a hushed tone. He's cold, calculative, and efficient, so don't get in his way. This distances people that first meet Seth, but nobody's really gotten to know him since elementary school. Details in Bio, but he used to be just a goofy nerd with other nerdy frineds. Biography: In elementary school, Seth was one of the coolest nerds, making friends and doing school stuff. By 5th grade, others had moved on to hanging out at peoples' houses, but because of his strict parents, Seth couldn't go. By 6th grade, he had all but refused to do school work and was nearly expelled. Something switched. From that point on, his devoted all energy not spent eating and sleeping went into school work. By high school, and not having talked to anyone outside of ice breaker games, Seth's parents got worried, so they got him video games, which his parents made him play for a certain amount of time each day. He mostly played mostly survival or stealth-based games. He started breezing through them in a few hours and eventually having to make up extreme challenges to make it anything more than a cakewalk. By the end of high school, he didn't know what he wanted to do, but wanted something with precision, calculation, and something he hadn't used much before: physical work. So, he joined the army. Seth didn't take much time to reach the rank of Sergent. Once a Sergent, his talents acquired by social learning during his video game time started to shine while doing rudimentery drills. He was assigned to a top-secret military reconnisaince squad due to his exemplary time in obstacle cources and the notes of being quiet in all noises by his commanding officers. Their missions were only observe without being observed. Sometimes a "find this person" mission thrown in there. Seth was the one that was usually sent in when close-up observation was needed without being seen. By the time he was 25, he was selected to be sent out for the Sabre project. He didn't know what that meant, but Seth thought it would be more of what he was doing. He wasn't ready for what it was at first. He didn't know he would be augmented. Once he was, and after getting used to the augments, they became second nature to him, making him nearly ghost-like. Especially with the suit he was issued, which also heavily catered to his reconnaisence ability. Specializations: Natural skills- - Stealth knowledge and training - Survival knowledge and training Augments- - Silent Step: Seth's bottom half of his feet have been integrated with quieter materials so he can make no sound by stepping alone (obviously he'll make a noise if he steps on something that makes a noise. And yes, this also means he goes barefooted on his missions) and has had the nerve endings on the bottom of his feet removed. - 70% night vision: Seth's irises have been artificially enlargened to be able to see much better in the dark. - Breathing pores: Seth's trachea has been given about a dozen tubes out of it that lead to pores along his neck, allowing for slow and silent breathing. >> Retrieving most recent Psychological Evaluations. . . \| >> Done >> File extracted >> [[PSYCHOLOGICAL EVALUATION: SETH GARRON, SARGENT]] EXAMINER: JONATHAN S. WALSH DATE: [[REDACTED]] Sargent Garron exhibits extreme introversion, most likely caused by an onset of high expectations, albeit external or internal factors. That being said, Garron's logical and reasoning capabilities far exceed the curve for his age group. Keeping Garron engaged in speech is increasingly difficult proportional to the amount of time the conversation lasts, and his body language is very closed and cut off. Garron opts to not talk unless he deems it necessary, and will often answer yes/no questions with head nods and shakes unless pressed for a verbal confirmation. I recommend that Garron be placed in settings where verbal communication is mandatory and vital. Social interaction is also recommended to exercise the creative half of the brain that hardly shows in any of his communication and testing.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges Cautiously Saffron tapped her wrist comp and accessed the information she had on her new colleagues. Having only arrived the night before and been given separate quarters from the rest, for obvious reasons, this was her first encounter with most of them. Other than Cmdr Riley, who'd conducted her integration interview a few weeks earlier the only information she had was the official reports and documents to which she'd been granted access after being accepted onto this programme. Quickly she skimmed through the notes, trying to put faces to names as she glanced down the line. There were the three officers and three non-coms, not including herself. Along with that there was a civilian whose status seemed unconfirmed according to her files. Having read all she could from the sparse information at hand the newly warranted officer pulled up a holo of her wife, Yolanda. For a moment she let her mind wander back to the previous morning and smiled lovingly at the projected image before shutting the display down. She wasn't entirely comfortable with her new rank. Technically she did still have seniority over half the men in the room, although she was unsure exactly where the good doctor fell in the chain of command as there was no rank listed for him in any of the data packets she'd received. Her own position felt just as unstable somehow, as though she were only here under sufferance and at the first misstep would be asked to leave, not that she wouldn't deserve it. Obviously they'd been locked in this room for a reason though, and as only a non-com it wasn't her place to question orders, not anymore. Instead she sat to attention, her hands on her knees and back straight, awaiting those unquestionable orders as her mind drifted back to the warmth of the previous day.</s> <\|message\|>Seth Garron Seth looked around at the room with his typical stoic face on, deciding to test his memory skills which were below average compared to his other mental capabilities. The man on his right was the leader; 2. After him was the heavy weapons expert; 3. Next after himself was 5, was, according to the dossier, the "unconventional warfare" specialist. So a guerilla. 6... That was the... Sniper. That was it. To the sniper's left was the team medic, then the Tech expert, then our... Female. Right. Forgot there was a female in the team. Numbers and specialties don't convey gender, yet are the only means of getting accurate tactical data. Names mean nothing. Especially in millitary. All we are are numbers and/or ranks. We're here for their purposes. We do good, then we get a treat. It's the real life RTS game. With that, Seth saw no reason to sit at attention, so he leaned back comfortably in his chair as he sized everyone up to their dossier.</s> <\|message\|>Scott Riley Today's the big day. Scott carefully examined each soldier in the room, or more accurately, reexamined them. One by one he had previously met each of them, so he already knew much about his team. Despite this, a certain uneasiness loomed over him as if drawn vicariously from the others. Though he had gotten to know the seven of them, they had not gotten to know each other. The sight of them was something, alright; though most of them were about the same age, most everything else was different about them from their physique to their posture and even the clothes they wore. It was a hop-skip-and-yard away from the matching uniforms and robotic salutes of the infantry he usually dealt with. Nevertheless, Scott was still in charge. He had led entire divisions of forces against the JFA, but the question that remained to be seen was whether he could effectively lead a spec-ops group comprised of similarly skilled agents. There was only one way to find out, and no better time than now. Standing up and moving to the front of the room to face the rest of his team, he addressed them thus: "Well, we should be hearing from Overwatch soon, but in the meantime we need to do something about... this." Scott gestured around the room with his hands, calling to attention the awkwardness that he knew they were well aware of. "It may be silly but we need to break the ice. The sooner we get to know each other the better off we'll be. Now, I hope you all remember me but in case you don't I'll go first. My name is Scott Riley, and I'm a former commander for the EMA's armed forces. Oh, that reminds me... you're past ranks mean nothing in this unit. Now, the chain of command is 'lowest number is in charge', which means I'm always in charge. Even if I'm not there. Don't get me wrong, there's no superiority complex going on here. If everyone does as I say then there won't be any problems, it's as simple as that. Beyond that, we are all equally important gears in this machine. You've each been selected for the same reason I have, so you already have my respect. Just try not to lose that respect." After a short pause he realized that he had gone off topic. A short cough into his fist later and he retraced his steps. "Right then, I'm Sabre 02, my specialization is versatility in all fields of expertise, and I will be leading this team. I have a younger sister, both of my parents are dead and my brother died in the line of duty. I have no wife, nor will I ever if I stay here long enough to die first. I enjoy listening to music in my spare time, and my favorite color is red. I look forward to working with you." Pointing at the man who was sitting next to him in chair number 3, Scott declared, "You. Stand up, you're next."</s> <\|message\|>Cyprian Sigmund "If you don't mind, Riley, I would like to speak next." The man seated in chair number eight rose and brushed his hair from his brow before stepping forward and pivoting towards his companions. He began to introduce himself without waiting for a response from Sabre02. "I'll have you know that I worked very hard for my doctorate, and will be referred to as such." He said to Riley. His determination turned to a smile as he twisted his torso towards the rest of the group."MY name is DOCTOR Cyprian Sigmund! You can all thank me for those little 'upgrades' Overwatch crammed into your bodies." He rose his fingers for air quotes, and let out a short laugh at the conclusion of his sentence. "Oh! And also for the specialized deployment suits that you will be receiving. Now then, I am Sabre zero-eight, and I will be serving as the brains for our team." He cracked a wide smile before pointing his finger out into the group. "Now, that doesn't mean I'll be sticking my nose into books all day, oh no no no. In addition to our deployments, I will be working tirelessly to improve our gear and other assets." He placed his hands onto his hips with a satisfied "hmph," and looked around for a response.</s> <\|message\|>Rory Phayne The lieutenant commander had been sitting still and silent for what seemed an eternity when Commander Scott stood up and started talking. Rory admired the man, a good leader; a natural leader. Dad would like him, he thought absently. His attention snapped back as the Doctor who had worked with Rory over the past few months began speaking. Rory liked him too-the Doctor had given him weapons and abilities that far surpassed anything he might be able to achieve on his own. This is good for your career.., he could hear his dad telling him... "Right, then." Rory stood up as both commander Scott and the Doctor finished there introductions. "So I know the Doctor here and we all know the Commander." Rory paused;suddenly self conscious about addressing the group. He was by no means slight, even in the thin military greys he was wearing now, but he was not accustomed to speaking to groups of people he did not know. "I don't know any of you-I don't think I do anyways. But my name is Rory Phayne and I'm a heavy weapons specialist. That's it. No fancy tricks or bouncing around behind enemy lines. Just put me in front of something and I'll make it gone-No questions asked. When were in the thick of it you can count on me to back you up." I could tell you how I'm career military and my family has been for generations-but I think that's probably the case for most of us-Uh that's it. I look forward to working with you all." Rory, visibly sweating now sat down awkwardly and waited patiently for the next introduction.</s>	<\|message\|>Seth Garron Seeing the trend forcing its way down the line, save for the doctor, Seth opted to get it over with. Once 03 finished his shpiel, Seth stood up, took off his hood and mask, and addressed the room, barely loud enough to fill the room with his voice, starting with an audible sigh. "Sabre-04. Seth Garron. Stealth-recon specialist. You have my dossier for further info." And with his introduction nothing less than short, precise, and included all the information needed, Seth sat back down in his relaxed posture. Reviewing the other team members' introductions, the commander seemed to want this over with quickly as well. Could be dislike for this team or tension needing relief. Either way, the quiker these take place and end, the quicker we get to our new 'home'. What a waste of breath with personal information that we already have. But, when in Rome, do as they say. The doctor seemed to want nothing more than recognition of his achievements. Bragging of at least one doctorate and having either overseen or created the augmentations and suits. Then there's 03, the Heavy. He seems to know a little about the previous two that had spoken. He seems like he'd do anything the commander says, regardless of morality or ethics. Interesting...</s>
<\|description\|>Seth Garron Sabre04 Military Rank: Sargent Age: 26 Sex: Male All clothing as well as the mask are black. Equiped with Chameleon-tech camoflage abilities built-in. Personality: Seth acts like he does on the battlefield- quiet. When Seth does talk, it's in a hushed tone. He's cold, calculative, and efficient, so don't get in his way. This distances people that first meet Seth, but nobody's really gotten to know him since elementary school. Details in Bio, but he used to be just a goofy nerd with other nerdy frineds. Biography: In elementary school, Seth was one of the coolest nerds, making friends and doing school stuff. By 5th grade, others had moved on to hanging out at peoples' houses, but because of his strict parents, Seth couldn't go. By 6th grade, he had all but refused to do school work and was nearly expelled. Something switched. From that point on, his devoted all energy not spent eating and sleeping went into school work. By high school, and not having talked to anyone outside of ice breaker games, Seth's parents got worried, so they got him video games, which his parents made him play for a certain amount of time each day. He mostly played mostly survival or stealth-based games. He started breezing through them in a few hours and eventually having to make up extreme challenges to make it anything more than a cakewalk. By the end of high school, he didn't know what he wanted to do, but wanted something with precision, calculation, and something he hadn't used much before: physical work. So, he joined the army. Seth didn't take much time to reach the rank of Sergent. Once a Sergent, his talents acquired by social learning during his video game time started to shine while doing rudimentery drills. He was assigned to a top-secret military reconnisaince squad due to his exemplary time in obstacle cources and the notes of being quiet in all noises by his commanding officers. Their missions were only observe without being observed. Sometimes a "find this person" mission thrown in there. Seth was the one that was usually sent in when close-up observation was needed without being seen. By the time he was 25, he was selected to be sent out for the Sabre project. He didn't know what that meant, but Seth thought it would be more of what he was doing. He wasn't ready for what it was at first. He didn't know he would be augmented. Once he was, and after getting used to the augments, they became second nature to him, making him nearly ghost-like. Especially with the suit he was issued, which also heavily catered to his reconnaisence ability. Specializations: Natural skills- - Stealth knowledge and training - Survival knowledge and training Augments- - Silent Step: Seth's bottom half of his feet have been integrated with quieter materials so he can make no sound by stepping alone (obviously he'll make a noise if he steps on something that makes a noise. And yes, this also means he goes barefooted on his missions) and has had the nerve endings on the bottom of his feet removed. - 70% night vision: Seth's irises have been artificially enlargened to be able to see much better in the dark. - Breathing pores: Seth's trachea has been given about a dozen tubes out of it that lead to pores along his neck, allowing for slow and silent breathing. >> Retrieving most recent Psychological Evaluations. . . \| >> Done >> File extracted >> [[PSYCHOLOGICAL EVALUATION: SETH GARRON, SARGENT]] EXAMINER: JONATHAN S. WALSH DATE: [[REDACTED]] Sargent Garron exhibits extreme introversion, most likely caused by an onset of high expectations, albeit external or internal factors. That being said, Garron's logical and reasoning capabilities far exceed the curve for his age group. Keeping Garron engaged in speech is increasingly difficult proportional to the amount of time the conversation lasts, and his body language is very closed and cut off. Garron opts to not talk unless he deems it necessary, and will often answer yes/no questions with head nods and shakes unless pressed for a verbal confirmation. I recommend that Garron be placed in settings where verbal communication is mandatory and vital. Social interaction is also recommended to exercise the creative half of the brain that hardly shows in any of his communication and testing.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges Fidgeting in her seat Saf began to really worry about this new assignment. A loose-knit group of specialists working for someone who refused to even properly identify themselves to their subordinates screamed black ops, and whenever they were involved the mission was sure to be something morally questionable. She hadn't even been given an explanation for the invasive surgeries she'd been forced to undergo before accepting this posting. Quickly glancing at the doctor sitting next to her Saf reached down and tapped her wristcomp, activating its video record function. If these people were upto something questionable she wanted to make sure they didn't leave her out to dry once the work was done.</s> <\|message\|>Jax "Ghost Reaper" Orion Jax was un-phased by the man appearing on the screen as he finally looked up moving his head toward the screen. To him none of this was new, missions with very little prep time or briefing. Though something caught his eye. He looked over to 09 as she reached down and he rose an eye brow. Jax was very perceptive, it was one of the things that made him such a good sniper. Looking down he saw her wrist device turning on. That made his brow furrow as he looked at her, "you" He looked at her pointing his knife at her "off" His knife moved to point down at her wrist. His tone was very serious as he wouldn't let anything compromise him, or his team. Very little of any of Jax's operations were recorded. Most of his record simply has operations he was a part of, what he did and his contributions were all classified at the highest levels. Anonymity was the name of the game. Once on mission, they no longer existed. The idea of being recorded bothered him as there would be a record of involvement. He wasn't about to change things now. It should be slightly obvious that he was black ops. His out of regs hair style for one, his slack wear of his uniform, and the fact that he wore no rank or insignia, only a name tape that said "Ghost Reaper"</s> <\|message\|>Seth Garron Seth heard the voice least heard, from 06. Looking over, the sniper had caught 09 trying to record using her wrist device. Noting the keen eye sight of the Sabre unit with 'Ghost Reaper' taped on his uniform, he also took note of how demilitarized the sniper was. Must be federally employed or highly classified missions. I'll keep an eye out since he also talks short and precicely. Seth wasn't exactly in uniform, but he wasn't specified to, so he dressed commonly. Especially since previous branches, ranks, and titles were basically expunged. At this point, Seth just wanted to get on with this briefing and get the mission. Since he was stealth-recon, he figured he'd be going in, getting info that wasn't locked down before the rest of them come in and kill every being that stands in their way. It's almost an art sneaking past opposing soldiers, knocking one out to "borrow" a uniform and identification, and getting everything possible with those credentials. Or, in the higher security areas, sneaking past everyone, slipping into a room by following somebody, and plugging in a USB worm host into a server room. It was a mental challenge to get into places that Seth couldn't get from any video game, board game, or personal challenge. Mental challenges is the one reason Seth stuck with the reconnaissance squad he was placed in. He could almost make it a game.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges Looking over at the former sergeant Saf was unimpressed with his passive threat and placed her hand onto her sidearm. "No," She answered back levelly, mimicking the longarm's tone. As it had already been made clear to her there was no rank here and he had no right to make demands of her, and unless he wanted to actually try and force her to do what he said she most certainly wasn't going to, especially not at knifepoint. She'd read Sgt Orion's file, and knew he was a skilled sniper and expert in stealth operations, but she was the close combat expert here and in the close confines of the briefing room she had the advantage.</s> <\|message\|>Jackson Indar Jackson put a hand on both Jax's knife hand and Saffrons' sidearm holster, motioning for them to stop. "Calm down, both of you. I won't have the first injury here in the briefing room, m'kay? We're a team now, remember?" Jackson attempted to defuse the tense situation. Teamwork would be what would make or break them, and distrust between them would surely be the death of them. He was just glad he could heal minor wounds without any tools, using his nanites. If the two did attack each other, he could at least heal them, like he said he would. Let's just hope it doesn't get to that.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges Slowly relaxing Saf slipped his pistol back into the holster and lifted her hand away, holding it up to show she meant no harm. All the while her eyes remained fixed on the sniper, unwavering and ready should he make any hostile move. Finally her eyes broke away from Sgt Orion and moved over to the screen. "I'm getting tired of all this bullshit," She said, her tone obviously riled, "I was told this was a military operation, but so far all I've seen is wasted time and pointless theatrics. If you have a mission for us then give us the intel and send us on our way. If not, let us get back to our duties."</s> <\|message\|>Jax "Ghost Reaper" Orion Jax watched as Saf put her hand on her side arm. He waited for her to make a move, they were both experts in hand to hand combat, hell everyone in the room probably was, But she specialized in it. But she was brash and aggressive, tended to act before thinking. These were things he could take advantage of, these were also things you didn't want in a black operative. Though he felt the Docs hands on his own as he lowered his knife, but kept his eyes on saf. His own posture never changed, he was still sitting in a relaxed state as he flipped and spun his knife around once more. Looking at her, she had another outburst. In Jax's eyes she was quickly becoming the biggest liability. In the field this spat wouldn't effect Jax, he had team mates that he didn't get along with before. Once on the field though mission took priority. Jax had learned to separate himself, Jax became Ghost. Her he wasn't so sure about, she seemed to controlled by emotion. He turned his head over to the screen once more as he pushed everything down. Right not it didn't really matter, but that didn't mean he wouldn't be watching her closely in the field to see how she act.s</s> <\|message\|>Seth Garron With all of these volatile emotions flaring up, at least in 09 and 07, Seth thought that trying to reason these motions down would be the most effective way to move forward, since apparently this group isn't a one-time thing. "Oh-Nine. This isn't standard military op. It's closer to a black op, which is still military. That would mean discretion is key. If we don't succeed, we have nobody to turn to. It's just us, meaning team cohesion is also key. All of us are very different and we should be trusting of each other, and our mission director, as this won't be our last mission together, I presume." Seth read her dossier. He knew she had trust issues. Trying to reason trust from her seemed like the most efficient way to make her trust someone. "He'll give us the information we need, then we carry out the mission. Nothing else needs to be done. A recording isn't necessary unless you're just forgetful. Even then, seven others will have heard the same knowledge and can repeat it to you if you do forget." Using a disguised insult would help at least take her focus off of the recording itself and, if it worked, she'd be angry at him for insulting her memory. Once finished, Seth maintained eye contact with 09, awaiting her response.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges Saf nodded her head towards Sgt Garron, acknowledging his words if not heeding them. The non-com obviously had little in the way of actual battle command and his blatant attempts at psychological manipulation were as clear to her as they had been during her numerous psychological evaluations. He was trying to smooth the waters though, even if a little hamfistedly, and she appreciated his attempt. Now if everyone would just get to the point and explain why it was she'd been cut open and tortured for days she could get the show on the road and actually put her suffering to good use.</s> <\|message\|>Scott Riley Watching as the first arguments already began, Scott couldn't help but let out a short laugh. "If you don't mind, you'll all have plenty of time to get your irks and quirks out of your system en-route to our mission. But for now, I would like to remind you all that we're in the presence of Overwatch, and as such you should all be on your best behavior." He waited a moment in silence, making sure everyone understood him. Turning in place to face the monitor, he rubbed his chin briefly and said, "My apologies, sir. please continue."</s> <\|message\|>SABRE TEAM "Thank you, Zero-Two. Now, I'm sorry to burst your bubbles, but this first assignment will not be on the field. This will be an exercise of sorts. It would be a grave mistake so send you out against the JFA without getting used to your new augmentations, equipment, and team-mates." Overwatch adjusted his glasses again and fixed his gaze on Cyprian. "Zero-Eight. Have you relocated the SDS's to designation Alpha Twenty-Three Foxtrot?" "Affirmative, sir. Models Zero-Two and Zero-Eight are test confirmed, and the other six models are fully functional and ready for testing." Cyprian responded in a normal tone, a method of speech new to his allies. "Very good. Zero-Two, lead your team to Alpha Twenty-Three Foxtrot, and have them suit up. Even though you and Zero-Eight are confirmed, I want you to partake in this assignment again."</s>	<\|message\|>Seth Garron Seth's attention was brought back to Oh-Two talking about this sort of banter being done en route. This shouldn't continue past this room. En route should be spent strategizing an briefing of any sort that 02 can do. If we bicker en route, we'll surely bicker on the battlefield. Well, this time it would be on a training field of some sort. At least there's some soundness in their strategy, having us tested with these SMS's before being sent into a real firefight. Alpha Twenty-Three Foxtrot... A23F. It might help to remember that. My memory might become faulty before the time of its relevance... Someone should be able to remember. Once Overwatch had finished giving orders, Seth stood up and absent-mindedly saluted the figure on the screen, wobbling a bit as he stood up, still getting used to the bottoms of his feet not giving off any feeling, which forced Seth to calculate his balance by means other than his foot bottoms. Once he readjusted his balance, he turned to Oh-Two and made an 'after you' motion towards the door, ready to leave and finally have the mental challenge he'd been craving since arriving at the facility.</s>
<\|description\|>Seth Garron Sabre04 Military Rank: Sargent Age: 26 Sex: Male All clothing as well as the mask are black. Equiped with Chameleon-tech camoflage abilities built-in. Personality: Seth acts like he does on the battlefield- quiet. When Seth does talk, it's in a hushed tone. He's cold, calculative, and efficient, so don't get in his way. This distances people that first meet Seth, but nobody's really gotten to know him since elementary school. Details in Bio, but he used to be just a goofy nerd with other nerdy frineds. Biography: In elementary school, Seth was one of the coolest nerds, making friends and doing school stuff. By 5th grade, others had moved on to hanging out at peoples' houses, but because of his strict parents, Seth couldn't go. By 6th grade, he had all but refused to do school work and was nearly expelled. Something switched. From that point on, his devoted all energy not spent eating and sleeping went into school work. By high school, and not having talked to anyone outside of ice breaker games, Seth's parents got worried, so they got him video games, which his parents made him play for a certain amount of time each day. He mostly played mostly survival or stealth-based games. He started breezing through them in a few hours and eventually having to make up extreme challenges to make it anything more than a cakewalk. By the end of high school, he didn't know what he wanted to do, but wanted something with precision, calculation, and something he hadn't used much before: physical work. So, he joined the army. Seth didn't take much time to reach the rank of Sergent. Once a Sergent, his talents acquired by social learning during his video game time started to shine while doing rudimentery drills. He was assigned to a top-secret military reconnisaince squad due to his exemplary time in obstacle cources and the notes of being quiet in all noises by his commanding officers. Their missions were only observe without being observed. Sometimes a "find this person" mission thrown in there. Seth was the one that was usually sent in when close-up observation was needed without being seen. By the time he was 25, he was selected to be sent out for the Sabre project. He didn't know what that meant, but Seth thought it would be more of what he was doing. He wasn't ready for what it was at first. He didn't know he would be augmented. Once he was, and after getting used to the augments, they became second nature to him, making him nearly ghost-like. Especially with the suit he was issued, which also heavily catered to his reconnaisence ability. Specializations: Natural skills- - Stealth knowledge and training - Survival knowledge and training Augments- - Silent Step: Seth's bottom half of his feet have been integrated with quieter materials so he can make no sound by stepping alone (obviously he'll make a noise if he steps on something that makes a noise. And yes, this also means he goes barefooted on his missions) and has had the nerve endings on the bottom of his feet removed. - 70% night vision: Seth's irises have been artificially enlargened to be able to see much better in the dark. - Breathing pores: Seth's trachea has been given about a dozen tubes out of it that lead to pores along his neck, allowing for slow and silent breathing. >> Retrieving most recent Psychological Evaluations. . . \| >> Done >> File extracted >> [[PSYCHOLOGICAL EVALUATION: SETH GARRON, SARGENT]] EXAMINER: JONATHAN S. WALSH DATE: [[REDACTED]] Sargent Garron exhibits extreme introversion, most likely caused by an onset of high expectations, albeit external or internal factors. That being said, Garron's logical and reasoning capabilities far exceed the curve for his age group. Keeping Garron engaged in speech is increasingly difficult proportional to the amount of time the conversation lasts, and his body language is very closed and cut off. Garron opts to not talk unless he deems it necessary, and will often answer yes/no questions with head nods and shakes unless pressed for a verbal confirmation. I recommend that Garron be placed in settings where verbal communication is mandatory and vital. Social interaction is also recommended to exercise the creative half of the brain that hardly shows in any of his communication and testing.</s> <\|message\|>Jax "Ghost Reaper" Orion Jax watched as Saf put her hand on her side arm. He waited for her to make a move, they were both experts in hand to hand combat, hell everyone in the room probably was, But she specialized in it. But she was brash and aggressive, tended to act before thinking. These were things he could take advantage of, these were also things you didn't want in a black operative. Though he felt the Docs hands on his own as he lowered his knife, but kept his eyes on saf. His own posture never changed, he was still sitting in a relaxed state as he flipped and spun his knife around once more. Looking at her, she had another outburst. In Jax's eyes she was quickly becoming the biggest liability. In the field this spat wouldn't effect Jax, he had team mates that he didn't get along with before. Once on the field though mission took priority. Jax had learned to separate himself, Jax became Ghost. Her he wasn't so sure about, she seemed to controlled by emotion. He turned his head over to the screen once more as he pushed everything down. Right not it didn't really matter, but that didn't mean he wouldn't be watching her closely in the field to see how she act.s</s> <\|message\|>Seth Garron With all of these volatile emotions flaring up, at least in 09 and 07, Seth thought that trying to reason these motions down would be the most effective way to move forward, since apparently this group isn't a one-time thing. "Oh-Nine. This isn't standard military op. It's closer to a black op, which is still military. That would mean discretion is key. If we don't succeed, we have nobody to turn to. It's just us, meaning team cohesion is also key. All of us are very different and we should be trusting of each other, and our mission director, as this won't be our last mission together, I presume." Seth read her dossier. He knew she had trust issues. Trying to reason trust from her seemed like the most efficient way to make her trust someone. "He'll give us the information we need, then we carry out the mission. Nothing else needs to be done. A recording isn't necessary unless you're just forgetful. Even then, seven others will have heard the same knowledge and can repeat it to you if you do forget." Using a disguised insult would help at least take her focus off of the recording itself and, if it worked, she'd be angry at him for insulting her memory. Once finished, Seth maintained eye contact with 09, awaiting her response.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges Saf nodded her head towards Sgt Garron, acknowledging his words if not heeding them. The non-com obviously had little in the way of actual battle command and his blatant attempts at psychological manipulation were as clear to her as they had been during her numerous psychological evaluations. He was trying to smooth the waters though, even if a little hamfistedly, and she appreciated his attempt. Now if everyone would just get to the point and explain why it was she'd been cut open and tortured for days she could get the show on the road and actually put her suffering to good use.</s> <\|message\|>Scott Riley Watching as the first arguments already began, Scott couldn't help but let out a short laugh. "If you don't mind, you'll all have plenty of time to get your irks and quirks out of your system en-route to our mission. But for now, I would like to remind you all that we're in the presence of Overwatch, and as such you should all be on your best behavior." He waited a moment in silence, making sure everyone understood him. Turning in place to face the monitor, he rubbed his chin briefly and said, "My apologies, sir. please continue."</s> <\|message\|>SABRE TEAM "Thank you, Zero-Two. Now, I'm sorry to burst your bubbles, but this first assignment will not be on the field. This will be an exercise of sorts. It would be a grave mistake so send you out against the JFA without getting used to your new augmentations, equipment, and team-mates." Overwatch adjusted his glasses again and fixed his gaze on Cyprian. "Zero-Eight. Have you relocated the SDS's to designation Alpha Twenty-Three Foxtrot?" "Affirmative, sir. Models Zero-Two and Zero-Eight are test confirmed, and the other six models are fully functional and ready for testing." Cyprian responded in a normal tone, a method of speech new to his allies. "Very good. Zero-Two, lead your team to Alpha Twenty-Three Foxtrot, and have them suit up. Even though you and Zero-Eight are confirmed, I want you to partake in this assignment again."</s> <\|message\|>Seth Garron Seth's attention was brought back to Oh-Two talking about this sort of banter being done en route. This shouldn't continue past this room. En route should be spent strategizing an briefing of any sort that 02 can do. If we bicker en route, we'll surely bicker on the battlefield. Well, this time it would be on a training field of some sort. At least there's some soundness in their strategy, having us tested with these SMS's before being sent into a real firefight. Alpha Twenty-Three Foxtrot... A23F. It might help to remember that. My memory might become faulty before the time of its relevance... Someone should be able to remember. Once Overwatch had finished giving orders, Seth stood up and absent-mindedly saluted the figure on the screen, wobbling a bit as he stood up, still getting used to the bottoms of his feet not giving off any feeling, which forced Seth to calculate his balance by means other than his foot bottoms. Once he readjusted his balance, he turned to Oh-Two and made an 'after you' motion towards the door, ready to leave and finally have the mental challenge he'd been craving since arriving at the facility.</s> <\|message\|>Scott Riley "Yes, sir" Scott said to the monitor with a short salute. With that, the monitor powered down and a click could be heard from the door as it unlocked electronically. "Alright everyone, enough waiting around. Follow me." Leaving the room, there was a hallway spanning left-to-right. Once everyone was outside, Scott lead the group down the hall to the left. The facility they were currently located in was on Earth, and as such there was a certain high-class aesthetic about the building. Hardly any dust on the floors, the walls and ceiling free of marks or dents. After about three minutes of walking they stopped in front of a large gate. This was an elevator shaft, meant to be used by whole platoons and possibly even fit a small vehicle. As he called the elevator to the current floor, a low whirring sound came from below. It seemed like an eternity before the elevator finally reached the current floor. The gates opened, and Scott stepped onto the large platform which echoed a hollow metallic sound beneath his boots. "Everyone, please step onto the platform. We're heading down. Doc, you can take it from here."</s> <\|message\|>Jax "Ghost Reaper" Orion Jax sat in his chair as he stopped playing with his knife and soon returned it to the sheath on his belt. He waited for every member of the team to stand up and move out of the room before he finally fallowed suit. He was used to bringing up the rear, so it felt most familiar to him even in simple situations like this. Keeping a few steps back he fallowed everyone along the hallway. He looked around as he did as well. The building was so, clean and proper. He honestly hadn't seen anything like it in a very long time. Most of the time operating out of a ship or station, going to places that were even less well maintained some times. That was the nature of the beast though. Everyone on earth had power and money, it makes since that every thing is well maintained. Soon enough though they arrived at the elevator shaft. He kept to hime self and observed the others, watching them as they waited. After time seemed to pass by slower waiting on the elevator, but finally it arrived. Moving he leaned against the railings on the side of it. Even the rails on this fright elevator was sturdy. He'd been on some elevators that you doubted would make it the floor you wanted, and it was miracle when you did. Reaching up he pushed just underneath this left ear. The cybernetics in his eyes coming to life. Soon every one was highlighted and there names and saber numbers were shown. It even showed life signs. He assumed these were readings from there own IFFs. He decided to leave him active, as the elevator came to life and they were soon on there way to retrieve equipment.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges Saf could feel Sgt Orion walking behind her and it made her spine itch even more than the jack ports which had been installed down her back. She didn't trust him, and even though knew that when they were out in the field he would be watching over her she needed some kind of assurance he wouldn't be saving a round for her. Hanging back from the rest of the group slightly she took her chance as they waited for the elevator to turn on her new teammate with what she hoped was a friendly smile. "We good?" She asked, her tone level and precise. She'd noticed he didn't like talking much, so she kept her question as brief as she could.</s>	<\|message\|>Seth Garron Seth raised his eyebrows at 09's question of her status with 06. Hmm... Her speech style has adapted to 06's speech patterns. She's not showing any emotion. Short, clipped sentence. She must be worried that a highly trained sniper would keep a grudge against his own teammate. Highly unlikely, since in combat, this team has greater things to think about than a tiff that occurred off the battlefield. His attire assumes that he's either been off duty for an extended period of time or he is either in or has recently been in highly secretive military/federal operations. The latter is most likely, since we're called 'the best of the best'. This leads to the assumption that 06 would not be motivated to assault, let alone kill, a member of his squad purely for a spat. Especially since it has the possibility of jeopardizing an operation. Once he got on the elevator with the others, Seth shifted his eyes over to 06 for a response. Meanwhile, he takes notes and makes predictions. -Calculation: 06 will use two or less words, including a slight nod of the head. Thus, 09 will either nod in response, if she continues this personality adaptation of 06, or she will smile and thank him, if she reverts to her own personality, originally exhibited in the briefing room. -Observation: 09 seems to be trying to get on people's 'good side', at least since her spat with 06. -Note: no biases or initial connotations should be used when speaking to 09 to avoid possible misinterpretations or aggravations. Trust, and possibly inferiority, issues have been causing extreme emotional bursts. Volatility could be a weakness. Or, redirected, can be a possible distraction method against enemy units. Hm... With the last two mental sentences, Seth contemplates the thought of 09 being used as a one-(wo)man distraction battalion.</s>
<\|description\|>Seth Garron Sabre04 Military Rank: Sargent Age: 26 Sex: Male All clothing as well as the mask are black. Equiped with Chameleon-tech camoflage abilities built-in. Personality: Seth acts like he does on the battlefield- quiet. When Seth does talk, it's in a hushed tone. He's cold, calculative, and efficient, so don't get in his way. This distances people that first meet Seth, but nobody's really gotten to know him since elementary school. Details in Bio, but he used to be just a goofy nerd with other nerdy frineds. Biography: In elementary school, Seth was one of the coolest nerds, making friends and doing school stuff. By 5th grade, others had moved on to hanging out at peoples' houses, but because of his strict parents, Seth couldn't go. By 6th grade, he had all but refused to do school work and was nearly expelled. Something switched. From that point on, his devoted all energy not spent eating and sleeping went into school work. By high school, and not having talked to anyone outside of ice breaker games, Seth's parents got worried, so they got him video games, which his parents made him play for a certain amount of time each day. He mostly played mostly survival or stealth-based games. He started breezing through them in a few hours and eventually having to make up extreme challenges to make it anything more than a cakewalk. By the end of high school, he didn't know what he wanted to do, but wanted something with precision, calculation, and something he hadn't used much before: physical work. So, he joined the army. Seth didn't take much time to reach the rank of Sergent. Once a Sergent, his talents acquired by social learning during his video game time started to shine while doing rudimentery drills. He was assigned to a top-secret military reconnisaince squad due to his exemplary time in obstacle cources and the notes of being quiet in all noises by his commanding officers. Their missions were only observe without being observed. Sometimes a "find this person" mission thrown in there. Seth was the one that was usually sent in when close-up observation was needed without being seen. By the time he was 25, he was selected to be sent out for the Sabre project. He didn't know what that meant, but Seth thought it would be more of what he was doing. He wasn't ready for what it was at first. He didn't know he would be augmented. Once he was, and after getting used to the augments, they became second nature to him, making him nearly ghost-like. Especially with the suit he was issued, which also heavily catered to his reconnaisence ability. Specializations: Natural skills- - Stealth knowledge and training - Survival knowledge and training Augments- - Silent Step: Seth's bottom half of his feet have been integrated with quieter materials so he can make no sound by stepping alone (obviously he'll make a noise if he steps on something that makes a noise. And yes, this also means he goes barefooted on his missions) and has had the nerve endings on the bottom of his feet removed. - 70% night vision: Seth's irises have been artificially enlargened to be able to see much better in the dark. - Breathing pores: Seth's trachea has been given about a dozen tubes out of it that lead to pores along his neck, allowing for slow and silent breathing. >> Retrieving most recent Psychological Evaluations. . . \| >> Done >> File extracted >> [[PSYCHOLOGICAL EVALUATION: SETH GARRON, SARGENT]] EXAMINER: JONATHAN S. WALSH DATE: [[REDACTED]] Sargent Garron exhibits extreme introversion, most likely caused by an onset of high expectations, albeit external or internal factors. That being said, Garron's logical and reasoning capabilities far exceed the curve for his age group. Keeping Garron engaged in speech is increasingly difficult proportional to the amount of time the conversation lasts, and his body language is very closed and cut off. Garron opts to not talk unless he deems it necessary, and will often answer yes/no questions with head nods and shakes unless pressed for a verbal confirmation. I recommend that Garron be placed in settings where verbal communication is mandatory and vital. Social interaction is also recommended to exercise the creative half of the brain that hardly shows in any of his communication and testing.</s> <\|message\|>Cyprian Sigmund "I certainly hope so, Zero-Nine. This will be a long ride." Cyprian answered Saffron's question, though it was directed at another. His tone returned to its bright and cheery attitude and stood out against hers. The elevator was one of industrial use, all eight occupants easily fit inside with plenty of room to spare. It was these kinds of lifts that would transport heavy machinery to different levels of the the structure. Cyprian selected the desired floor, and the lift lurched into motion. The lift's decent caused those inside to feel lighter in weight. In reality, the falling platform reduces the "normal force" that pushes against the people standing on it, since the object applying the force is moving away from the object that the force is being applied to. It is actually this normal force that is felt by a person standing on a surface. Therefore, the apparent gravitational force felt by those on the moving platform is reduced. Cyprian was very close to explaining all of this on the way down, were it not for the beautiful scenery that made itself visible through windows that would periodically flash past the elevator. Looking outside, Cyprian and anyone else who looked saw the starry backdrop of deep space shimmering behind beacons of light that marked the presence of satellite structures. The bright sun light peaked from around a massive body that covered almost all of the field of vision downward. Peering down, one could see white clouds swirling and streaking across vibrant blue oceans, and green masses of land. Off to the side was a grey sphere far off in the distance. Only the lower half of this sphere was illuminated. "Ahhhh... Earth truly is a magnificent sight, isn't she?" Cyprian held his head in his hands as he pressed his face against the window, a bit too eager to take in the view as the party descended closer and closer towards the planet's surface.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges As she watched the starscape slide past the viewport Saf couldn't help but be taken aback. SHe'd seen the station when she'd arrived, but the passenger shuttle had had its back to Earth and so all she'd seen were the stark metal columns and support braces holding the structure together, something she'd seen hundreds of times before during her military career. The sheer overwhelming beauty of the Earth took her breath away every time she saw it though and today was no exception. It was good to have such an obvious reminder of exactly what they were fighting for, especially before what was sure to turn out to be a very dangerous mission. Tearing her eyes away from the blue pearl for a moment Saf eyed her new CO carefully, was this a deliberate form of manipulation on his part? After all, it would've made far more sense to have had the team muster in the bay they were in transit to rather than the briefing room which had had a distinct lack of briefing.</s> <\|message\|>Jax "Ghost Reaper" Orion Jax shockingly remained quite during the elevator trip. He heard Saf's question but honestly didn't think to dignify it with a response, His personal feelings on her wouldn't change after just a few minutes. With Saf though that answer would simply stir things up. He kept leaning against the railing as soon he looked up and out the window to see the earth outside that view port. It had been a very long time. This being closest he had been to the 3rd rock in nearly a decade. Looking at it though he felt little attachment, His family was military he spent most of his life in an orbiting station where his parents where. Looking at that rock he didn't even really know what it looks like on the surface, his only extended time there was for his training when he initially joined and again when he Went to scout sniper. Some of the others were more overwhelmed by the site as he looked back down. His eyes closed as he reached up and scratched the under side of his chin. Though he hit something and his eye site changed. Looking up mostly everything was black, except for a blue glow that emitted from things, Wires, the motor of the elevator, looking at his team some of the bigger implants had lit up. Apparently he had EMF...something that could be useful, Reaching up he clicked it again, a thermal vision, Every thing was in black and white, hotter objects glowed white as colder were darker and black, he looked around seeing his teammates, one thing he noticed is that they were hot, hotter than normal people. That is something he would keep in mind for the future. Clicking again there was a night vision, though he flinched a bit and quickly clicked it over back to his normal tactical mode. He wished there was a form of what he called 'thumper' vision. It was simple and picked up vibrations, it helped cause it showed heart beats. Though for now he wouldn't worry about it, He was sure they would have calibrations and regular maintenance and would bring it up then.</s> <\|message\|>James Mathias Alexander James sighed as he stood among his fellow soldiers, he had kept quiet this entire time, considering the woman went on a childish rampage. The sniper acted unprofessional, waving his knife around and dishing out commands even though he was not the leader, people like them got someone killed. The woman already did, but the sniper had a lot of hidden records, which bothered him greatly. Men like him are never truly able to cohere with a team, this was not going to go well if they were going to keep this shit up. When he was deep in he NEEDED to bond with the team he was with, they needed to know every flaw, every skill, this made them men, and not just numbers. The guys with suits may not care for them, but they cared for each other, and that's what mattered. Even his command while he was in the Service cared, all of the big-wigs showed up to ONE man's funeral, and he was only a PFC, grant they couldn't always do it, but they did it whenever they could. To him, the Service was who he was, this sort of feeling made him adjust the leather coat he wore, it was a well-fitting leather jacket with his Battalion's symbol with the Winged Dagger of the S.A.S., on the dagger hung a gas mask. Above it read '23rd Battalion, He Who Dares Wins'. There was a reason he was picked for them, and this, he was the best at his profession, and those who matched him barely did so even before his augs. Now he was truly the best around with his kit, his augs, he was the most qualified in his eyes. At least for now, one day he would be replaced. Until that day comes however, he is gonna set one high fucking standard for whoever comes in after he does. His job was to control the fight, and even in the S.A.S with less than half the shit he had now he was one hell of a soldier, with his new drone, a Hollenhund. One lovely machine if he said so himself, a lovely amount of combat modifications gave him another soldier to fight with, this could make his life a lot easier. Running through the files of the other teammates, other than two he wanted to crack...Fucking wankers. The rest looked so much more worthwhile, and more tolerable. 6 and 9 had their skills, but they both seemed to be fatally flawed in a way that truly makes them butt heads pretty hard...This'll be fun indeed...Or so he hoped. Then his brain had a lightbulb and he spoke up rather randomly. "I apologize for not speakin' up earlier, James Mathias Alexander. A former S.A.S Scout and Unconventional Combat Specialist, I can high-jack any machine with nano-tech, or if you need someone isolated, I can get it done. I pretty much cause a shitstorm for our foes, giving us an opportunity to end an engagement early, or get the fuck outta dodge, whichever comes first. Oh! I also have a Masters in Robotics and a Bachelors in Nanotechnology, you can get that and more off my dossier. Alright, rant over." He quieted quickly and rolled his shoulders, trying to relax after that little speech. Fuck...He needed his gear, he was more comfortable in a military outfit, and in the field, not in a lift with people he didn't know worth shit.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges As she heard the Lt speak Saf quickly reached down to her wrist comp and pulled up his file, glancing over it and picking out the important details before turning her attention to the quiet 'Englishman'. Quickly running her eyes down his body Saf did a quick assessment. For a guy hitting his thirties Lt Alexander looked more like someone in their late teens. Either he'd taken really good care of himself or his family had enough money to pay for incredible thorough gene scrubbing in utero. Her money was on the former though, families who threw their money away on making sure their children were born with perfect genes tended to keep them at home rather than letting them enlist in potentially life threatening military careers. If he had come from money like that he'd more likely be the one sitting behind the monitor, beside Overwatch, than riding a freight elevator. "Special Air Service veteran? Where were you posted?" Before he had a chance to answer Saf quickly held up her hand with a smile, "Don't tell me. 'it's classified', right?"</s> <\|message\|>Jackson Indar Jackson remained silent for majority of the trip, eyes glued to the majestic scene of the Earth outside the viewport. It was awe-inspiring, and it was no surprise that it was a beacon of hope for the Conglomerate. Pulling his eyes away from the window and his mind back to reality, he began wondering about many things at once. What kind of gear are we gonna get? I know I'm a medic, but what kind of stuff will I be using? What about a gun? And what will everyone else use? Questions whizzed around Indar's head faster than he could answer them. Jackson turned his head to 05, who before that point had said nothing. "Well James, great to have you on board. As you probably know, Jackson Indar" Jackson introduced himself again, outstretching his arm to the other man for a handshake. "By god, this elevator has got to be almost there by now, right?" Jackson asked.</s>	<\|message\|>Seth Garron Seth's mind began churning again with the new off-dossier info on the newly spoken tech savant. Hmm... More attempts at lowering off-duty tensions. Do these agents keep off-duty feelings while on the battlefield? Risky to do so. One would think that any feelings towards a teammate outside of combat would most logically be compartmentalized to off-duty, while during a mission, the most critical thing would be ensuring safety of as many operatives as possible. -Deductions: 05 and 09 will become closest, due to similar relationship-mending goals. 07 will be second-closest with 09. Also attempting to keep positive mannerisms with all teammates. -Note to self: check for social normality in keeping all team relationships positive. Video games have proven otherwise. Source - Alpha Protocol. Relationships built on "owing" one another in the form of favors and working together based on goals, not feelings. Internet search to follow... -Tactics: 05 would be optimal for flanking with robotics and numbers on his side. 09 would be second-best. They will most likely bond best; therefore, they could flank simultaneously, increasing flank effectiveness. Shields and robotics. Least casualties. The 'Tactics' note made Seth rethink the 'one-(wo)man distraction battalion', and now thinking of a two-man distraction armada, with 05's robots on his side.</s>
<\|description\|>Seth Garron Sabre04 Military Rank: Sargent Age: 26 Sex: Male All clothing as well as the mask are black. Equiped with Chameleon-tech camoflage abilities built-in. Personality: Seth acts like he does on the battlefield- quiet. When Seth does talk, it's in a hushed tone. He's cold, calculative, and efficient, so don't get in his way. This distances people that first meet Seth, but nobody's really gotten to know him since elementary school. Details in Bio, but he used to be just a goofy nerd with other nerdy frineds. Biography: In elementary school, Seth was one of the coolest nerds, making friends and doing school stuff. By 5th grade, others had moved on to hanging out at peoples' houses, but because of his strict parents, Seth couldn't go. By 6th grade, he had all but refused to do school work and was nearly expelled. Something switched. From that point on, his devoted all energy not spent eating and sleeping went into school work. By high school, and not having talked to anyone outside of ice breaker games, Seth's parents got worried, so they got him video games, which his parents made him play for a certain amount of time each day. He mostly played mostly survival or stealth-based games. He started breezing through them in a few hours and eventually having to make up extreme challenges to make it anything more than a cakewalk. By the end of high school, he didn't know what he wanted to do, but wanted something with precision, calculation, and something he hadn't used much before: physical work. So, he joined the army. Seth didn't take much time to reach the rank of Sergent. Once a Sergent, his talents acquired by social learning during his video game time started to shine while doing rudimentery drills. He was assigned to a top-secret military reconnisaince squad due to his exemplary time in obstacle cources and the notes of being quiet in all noises by his commanding officers. Their missions were only observe without being observed. Sometimes a "find this person" mission thrown in there. Seth was the one that was usually sent in when close-up observation was needed without being seen. By the time he was 25, he was selected to be sent out for the Sabre project. He didn't know what that meant, but Seth thought it would be more of what he was doing. He wasn't ready for what it was at first. He didn't know he would be augmented. Once he was, and after getting used to the augments, they became second nature to him, making him nearly ghost-like. Especially with the suit he was issued, which also heavily catered to his reconnaisence ability. Specializations: Natural skills- - Stealth knowledge and training - Survival knowledge and training Augments- - Silent Step: Seth's bottom half of his feet have been integrated with quieter materials so he can make no sound by stepping alone (obviously he'll make a noise if he steps on something that makes a noise. And yes, this also means he goes barefooted on his missions) and has had the nerve endings on the bottom of his feet removed. - 70% night vision: Seth's irises have been artificially enlargened to be able to see much better in the dark. - Breathing pores: Seth's trachea has been given about a dozen tubes out of it that lead to pores along his neck, allowing for slow and silent breathing. >> Retrieving most recent Psychological Evaluations. . . \| >> Done >> File extracted >> [[PSYCHOLOGICAL EVALUATION: SETH GARRON, SARGENT]] EXAMINER: JONATHAN S. WALSH DATE: [[REDACTED]] Sargent Garron exhibits extreme introversion, most likely caused by an onset of high expectations, albeit external or internal factors. That being said, Garron's logical and reasoning capabilities far exceed the curve for his age group. Keeping Garron engaged in speech is increasingly difficult proportional to the amount of time the conversation lasts, and his body language is very closed and cut off. Garron opts to not talk unless he deems it necessary, and will often answer yes/no questions with head nods and shakes unless pressed for a verbal confirmation. I recommend that Garron be placed in settings where verbal communication is mandatory and vital. Social interaction is also recommended to exercise the creative half of the brain that hardly shows in any of his communication and testing.</s> <\|message\|>James Mathias Alexander James smiled as the elevator came to a halt, there was only one reason this would happen, and he knew exactly what it was. They had arrived at the armory, and that was the best feeling he ever felt as he saw the beauteous gear that each Sabre had available to them. When he saw his kit, he really did get a 'child in the candy store' smile. He strode over to the Suit with '05' printed over it in the standard military font. He smiled as he ran his hands over the fabric-like weave, feeling it...come to life? On contact with his body, he pulled the suit free from its resting place and quickly slid on the outfit, the 'clothing' conforming to the contours of his body to be comfortable, yet it looked, nice, and a very, standard grey. After sliding on the nano-fiber outfit, that resembled basic military attire, but it felt so much better on him, flicking up the hood, it almost seemed like he didn't have one on, but to the rest, unless they had enhanced vision, they wouldn't see anything of his face. He turned back to the table, grabbing the vest that held many pouches for magazines, grenades, and other gadgets he had yet to grab. Looking at the rest of his kit, he saw a small crate, bout the size of a large dinner pan. Opening the crate, inside sat a small single-eye optic, which fit to his right eye amazingly well. After he had it on, an interface lit up, and he noticed he had missed a wrist-mountable tool, after taking it and putting it on his wrist, the interface called it 'Anchor' stating it was ready for use. "Shit, even a Masters degree can't prep you for shit this amazing." Soon he looked to what else sat in the crate, and inside he saw a drone that nearly encompassed the whole thing. after a small scouring of the drone he found it's method of activation, a small switch on the inside, and the machine nearly jumped out of the box. Startling James a tad he stepped back, watching as the machine circled around him, was it...Was it looking him over? He'd heard of sentient A.I., but that was a theory before he left. He extended his hand to it, and the drone, bumped the tips of his fingers, almost giving him a curious look. "You are one perky li'l bugger ain't ya?" He chuckled, giving the drone a light pat on the 'head' and motioning for it to follow, which it surprisingly did. As it moved he did a diagnostic on its weapon systems, small flamethrower...it's own SMG, a small grenade launcher...A flash? Nifty. He'll have to figure that out later. Now it was to his weaponry, which was just as odd as the erst of what he saw, was what resembled a sub-machine gun with an extended barrel, a solid stock, foregrip, hybrid sight, and extended mags. Alongside it sat a compacted shotgun, about the same size, he knew the model and smiled. The gun had a sling, which'd make it easy to carry, the shells were both buck and solid slug. Sitting next to the table was a box for explosives, opening it he saw two spheres with sensory nodes on them, your standard frags, and what looked like remotely detonated charges. With an analysis from his optic, he realized they had nanites that were interfaced with the software in his suit and wrist-tool. According to the interface, he could...'Possess' other machinery? "Nice..."</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges Snapping the last of the armoured plates into place Saf relaxed for a moment and let her suit settle into place before starting a few warm-up exercises. The rig felt no different than any other she'd worn in her career, if anything it was a little less protective than most she'd used. While her chest was well covered and the interlocking plates running over her abdomen and spine moved smoothly and provided cover her arms and legs only had plates covering about a third of their total area, with her inner arms and thigh only protected by the flexible underlayer which was little more than an alloy weave. Halfway through her exercises Saf felt the power building inside her again and quickly stopped moving. Carefully straightening up as the power flowed through her Saf realised her entire body was beginning to glow with the same light she'd seen on the gauntlet before. Moving slowly she tried to touch her arm, but as she drew near the glowing energy seemed to merge, letting her hand pass straight through without difficulty. 'Well, at least I won't have a problem getting the damn thing off when the time comes,' She thought derisively, still not convinced as to the suit's value. As a thought came over her she quickly lifted her foot and examined the sole of her boot. Almost instantly the glowing field snapped into place, enveloping her feet from below. 'They thought of that, too, huh?' She thought, starting to be impressed by the designer's foresight. As she lowered her foot again Saf felt a moment's pressure before her boot touched the floor, the field shutting off as it detected the constant pressure demanding contact with the deck plating. Moving over to the rack of weapons Saf ran her eyes over the selection of a moment before reaching out for an SMG which was close at hand. 'Guess I'll need a weapon...' she thought to herself. An instant later the SMG exploded in a shower of metal fragments, skewered on a shaft of energy emanating from Saf's hand. Pulling her gauntlet back quickly Saf glanced down the row at the rest of her squad sheepishly, wondering if any of them had noticed her little mishap.</s>	<\|message\|>Seth Garron Seth didn't see the need to respond to anyone as they rode down the elevator. Staying silent and observing was his speciality, so why not use it? Silence was his only constant friend, and observation was the best tool he had in his arsenal. No amount of chatting and aimlessly talking compared to simply watching a person act on their own accord, because people try to make themselves seem a certain way in conversations, and the only way to see that happening is observing multiple conversations with said person and find the things that match to use as a baseline for how they are. Seth walked off the elevator into his designated chamber and almost instinctively stripped once he saw his suit. It was outfitted to be as quiet and elusive as possible. He slips it on, noticing the tight fit, but not suffocating. More like putting on another layer of skin, due to how natural and thin it felt. Running through the test course was too easy. Though, it was only meant to test the suit's integration, not pose as a mental challenge. Or if it was, it did no good against Seth. Every camera was avoided, even the test camera that was supposed to serve as a starting point for the observing scientists. When Seth re-entered from the ending side, the scientists were baffled. And impressed. Having been told nothing except to run the course without being seen by any person or camera, Seth didn't know of a 'test camera' that he was supposed to be seen in to start the time, the sneaky stealth operative avoided that one, too. Waiting for others to finish their tests and calibrations, Seth sat down, checking out everyone else's armour and weapons. Seth unsheathed the knife from his right boot. His 'last chance bullet'. He'd only kill if he had to, which it shouldn't come to that. His job was to put eyes and ears in the enemy base, not kill them all. He collects all available info, then gets out, the latter being the more difficult of the two.</s>
<\|description\|>Scott Riley Sabre02 WIP Earth-Time[ 4:29am, 7th, June, 4598 ] Enter Class S+ PIN and passcode to continue\| **********0001 -*********************** Checking... Access granted: User0001, welcome Mr. President. Enter Console command\| access[ data.********9264-02 ] Accessing database **********9264-02, Operation Shadow-Sabre Unit S02 dosier... Access complete, Loading... -Beta Stage: 7th, June, 4598 Notes[ Sabre02 dosier accessible as of ET 4:00 am on 6/7/4598 ] [ redirecting... ] [ done ] Sabre02 Dosier Military Rank: Commander Age: 37 Sex: Male Personality: Scott has been around the block so to speak; since joining the military he has become a different person than he used to be. Growing up on Mars he was quite amiable and outgoing, and this persisted into military service. After a traumatic encounter in the line of duty (disclosed below) he suffered from varied degrees of PTSD and depression. After therapy he returned to duty and flew through the ranks. He seems to think that becoming the best soldier possible will atone for his mistakes. As of now Scott is known to act in a stern, professional manner consistently. His role is that of a leader. Bearing this in mind, the only bond he wishes to form with his peers and subordinates is one of trust and dedication; friendship leads to more pain and should be avoided. Biography: Commander Riley was born and raised on Mars. He received an average middle-class education along with his brother and sister, and had two parents that were able to support him for his entire childhood. He and his brother Sargent Leon Riley both joined the the army after high school and received a college education after combat training, courtesy of the central government. Several years later his sister Michelle Riley suffered from a then-recently discovered illness present only on Mars, resulting in paralysis from the waist-down. Both Scott and Leon took a leave of absence to care for her until she recovered from the illness, however the paralysis persists. By this time, both parents have died of natural causes. Upon returning to duty in 4590, both brothers were assigned to different squads sent to perform the same mission: an assault on A2297-1, an asteroid colony in the A sector of the belt that served as a checkpoint for refugees between the outer solar system and a designated Martian Interplanetary Orbital Dominance Sector (MIODS). Alpha Team, to which Sgt. Riley had been assigned, was to infiltrate the colony as recon, with teams Bravo - Foxtrot to serve as the advance force to launch a coordinated surprise assault for the main forces to follow up. The rebel forces were anticipating our assault, however, and as a result Alpha team was nearly wiped out in a counter-ambush. By the time reinforcements had arrived, Sgt. Riley was mortally wounded and perished before medical aid could be provided. Despite overwhelming odds, Cmdr. Riley along with the remaining assault teams were able to completely destroy enemy forces before the central army's main forces arrived. For his bravery and dedication to completing the mission, Cmdr. Riley was awarded the EMA Medal of Valor. After his brother's death, Cmdr. Riley began to suffer from depression and PTSD. Mental therapy sessions were mandated by level 3 Class A personnel and after 14 weeks he made a nearly-full recovery. After observing a new and ideal personality type in Cmdr. Riley, Sabre staff approached him with the intent to induct him into the project. Cmdr. Riley consented and gave researchers full cooperation. As of 01/22/98, work on Sabre02 begins and is completed in 4 months based on research left over from Sabre01. Combat training and augmentation specialization testing commences and concludes within the next two months; Sabre02 is now ready for deployment. Specializations: Sabre02 is modeled after Sabre01 in terms of functionality. While other members of the Sabre team will be recruited and designed for specific purposes, S02 will be outfitted to handle every situation and cover every need. Because of this broad lack of specialization, individual Sabres who specialize in a field will likely preform at a higher level than S02. However, S02 will spearhead Sabre Operations on the ground. All Sabres are expected to follow orders issued by S02. - Basic and Advanced level training in each major weapons category, all formal martial arts training, and first-aid. S02 is outfitted to carry up to two [2] different high-caliber rifles, two [2] personal-arms handguns, and one [1] melee hand-held blade. - S02's SDS (Sabre Deployment Suit) is outfitted with energy shielding similar to SDS09. However, energy requirements by other features allow for less overall shielding potential. Note the formation of energy-based weaponry is not possible. - Medium plating armor balances protection and weight. Armor is outfitted with cartridge stores to hold excesses of ammunition - Energy propulsion capabilities installed on SDS02's back, palms and underside of feet. Short and powerful bursts can clear chasms, alter trajectory, and easily navigate in areas of low gravity. Sustained use allows for gravity defiance, and possibly flight. This second use must be used in moderation due to high energy consumption rate. - SDS02 is equipped with a broadsword, as mentioned above. It is forged from a composite alloy that is both light and durable, allowing for great ease of use. The edges are made of diamond, making this blade capable of cutting most physical materials without dulling. - Muscular, cardiovascular and respiratory enhancements for improved performance all-around. - Optical enhancements improving eyesight, allowing for farther vision as well as toggled vision modes including night vision, thermal, infrared and ultraviolet. - Active camouflage system which bends light around the suit, rendering it invisible to the naked eye. This technology is still in development, so it's uses are limited to being motionless and against targets which do not possess appropriate visual aid. - Reflex and coordination enhancements; S02's "human reaction time" has been improved to an average of 50ms, allowing for quicker and more decisive action in situations of stress. Due to physical constraints on S02's brain and nervous system, a specially-designed medication has been given to him. S02 is to carry as many doses as needed to carry out once-per-day use without skipping more than one day at a time. Command will provide S02 with an appropriate dosage at the outset of each mission. [SPECIAL NOTE: Any and all personal accompanying S02 on a mission must ensure S02 takes this medication on time. Failure to do so can result in [DATA EXPUNGED], as well as compromise the mission.] Enter Console command\| Logging off... Shutting down... Good bye.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges Saffron was more confused than ever about this new setup, chain of command was based on their assigned squad numbers? In that case Sgt Garron outranked SSgt Grayeson rather than the other way around, and all three sergeants out ranked Lt Indar. Worst of all a civilian outranked her. Unable to hold back any longer she quickly raised her hand and glanced down the line of chairs towards her new CO. "I'm sorry to speak out of turn Sir, but could I just clarify the chain of command? You said 'lowest number is in charge', does that go for all ranks?" She was sure she was making herself sound stupid, and the others already knew of her previous history with command, but if she really was to be treated as the junior amongst them she was certainly not going to let them make her inconsequential.</s> <\|message\|>Jax "Ghost Reaper" Orion Jax sat in silence as he normally did. His knife in hand he was spinning that blade around. Catching it in his hand as he spun around once more as he let rolling it on the back of his hand and then turning it catching it. Though as he did this he wasn't even watching it. His eyes focused on a spot on the table in front of him. He had read all the dossiers he was given on all of them. Looking through his memory was sharp, he watched them all as they sat in uncomfortable silence, well uncomfortable for the rest of them. For himself, and he figured 04, silence was a friend. Used to working in the field by them selves, days, weeks of silence. One wrong sound and you were dead. You learned to be a mouse, a mouse with very big weapons. 02 stood up and started to speak, speaking to the others about how they needed to break the ice. He was right they were a team, but Jax would have the least amount of interaction with them, in and off the the field. As a sniper you learned to keep a distance a certain distance from people, he was always looking at people though a Scope. Though as long as every one did their job Jax didn't see any problems. he would socialize with them, get to know them. He would always keep that distance from them. He watched as the Doc stood up, out of turn, and started to speak. He was boasting it seemed, which was something that Jax didn't understand. He wasn't new to the SPEC OPs community, he had spent most of his career in black ops. You didn't talk about it, you didn't boast. There was a certain respect about such things. Snipers never asked each other numbers, black ops never asked about Ops. Distance it all came down to distance. Soon enough things were back on tract. 03 stood up and started speaking. Though all of this he kept playing with his knife as his facial expression never changing as he listened to him speak. He was very direct and to the point, Jax Liked that. The one thing he noticed was that he was the only one with a call sign. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. His tags, said "Ghost Reaper" none of his field uniforms had name tapes. More then just nicknames Call signs kept real names out of it, during black Ops it was something that helped keep them safe as there Unofficial names meant that linking the soldier to the person was harder. 04 was next, it was short and sweet just as Jax expected. Next would be 05, but there was another interruption 09 stood up asking about rank. He personally felt like she deserved her spot. He read her record, she was volatile, acted with out thinking. People like that got others killed, she had gotten people killed. In his Black Ops world she wouldn't of lasted. Her little outburst only helped cement his opinion of her in his mind though. He spun his blade and caught it his eyes kept on that spot on the table as he expression had still yet to change.</s> <\|message\|>Scott Riley One by one the group introduced themselves. Somehow Scott knew that Dr. Sigmund would interject, that man almost couldn't get enough of himself. Arrogance can only take you so far in the social realm, but he knew that if he had even half of the qualifications the doctor had then he might be arrogant too. After the brief introduction, Sabre 03 Phayne stood up and did the same. The contrast was almost comical. Here was this hulking mountain of a man that could break several bones in each of our bodies if he really wanted to struggling to talk about himself. He was modest, and hard working. He would be a valuable asset to the team, as long as his empathy didn't cloud his judgement. Next in line was Sabre 04 Garron. Almost as if it was a contest, Garron made his introduction the shortest one yet. It is understandable that neither he nor Sabre 06 Orion would be much for talk, and Scott half expected them not to say anything at all since it was that hard just to interview them prior. Communication is a key component of any team however, and it was the leader's intent to make sure there were no obstacles preventing this. That includes during down time. Then, all the way on the other side of the room, a marginally higher voice spoke up. Sabre 09 Bridges, arm raised and poised at attention, had asked a question. having already spoken to her before, Scott knew that socially there would be far fewer problems with her than there would be tactical problems. Hopefully after a few missions she would understand exactly what she had gotten into, and find her niche in the spec-ops environment. Answering her question, Scott replied, "I didn't mention anything about an ascending or descending order. I simply said 'lowest number is in charge'. I'm the lowest number, so I'm in charge. That's all there is to it. To put it another way, you are all on equal footing and take orders from me, unless I temporarily grant the power to give orders to someone to meet the circumstances." With a slight welcoming gesture of the hand, he continued, "Now, since we're having a conversation why don't you go next?" A faint smile formed across his face as he crossed his arms and waited for a response.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges Saffron frowned, shaken with inner doubts over her CO's proclamation. She'd always worked within the standard operational protocols as part of her previous assignments and the idea of not having clear communication channels shook her up a little. What should the squad do in combat if Cmdr Riley went down without assigning a deputy, who would take charge? Taking a deep breath she pushed her doubts aside. This was no time to raise such concerns, with the squad gathered together, at best it would make her seem argumentative and petty and at worse it may undermine the Commander's authority. Besides she'd just been given an order. Jumping to her feet the Warrant Officer snapped off a salute to her CO before standing to attention and with her eyes focusing in the middle distance she began to speak. "Warrant Officer class one Saffron Bridges reporting for duty, Sir." She began, unsure exactly what the team would need to hear that hadn't been included in her file, "Specialist training in close combat and tactical planning, Sir." Having completed her breakdown Saffron fell silent, still standing to attention as she awaited a response.</s>	<\|message\|>Scott Riley Still smiling, Scott spoke to Saffron. "That's good and all, but why don't you share something about yourself? You know, so we believe you're a real person and not an android. It doesn't have to be big or interesting, just something small to break the mold. Also, don't use your former rank unless you are specifically stating that you are no longer that rank. You're a Sabre now, not a Warrant Officer." Scott was starting to have fun with this. The more awkward he made them feel now, the less there would be to deal with later.</s>
<\|description\|>Scott Riley Sabre02 WIP Earth-Time[ 4:29am, 7th, June, 4598 ] Enter Class S+ PIN and passcode to continue\| **********0001 -*********************** Checking... Access granted: User0001, welcome Mr. President. Enter Console command\| access[ data.********9264-02 ] Accessing database **********9264-02, Operation Shadow-Sabre Unit S02 dosier... Access complete, Loading... -Beta Stage: 7th, June, 4598 Notes[ Sabre02 dosier accessible as of ET 4:00 am on 6/7/4598 ] [ redirecting... ] [ done ] Sabre02 Dosier Military Rank: Commander Age: 37 Sex: Male Personality: Scott has been around the block so to speak; since joining the military he has become a different person than he used to be. Growing up on Mars he was quite amiable and outgoing, and this persisted into military service. After a traumatic encounter in the line of duty (disclosed below) he suffered from varied degrees of PTSD and depression. After therapy he returned to duty and flew through the ranks. He seems to think that becoming the best soldier possible will atone for his mistakes. As of now Scott is known to act in a stern, professional manner consistently. His role is that of a leader. Bearing this in mind, the only bond he wishes to form with his peers and subordinates is one of trust and dedication; friendship leads to more pain and should be avoided. Biography: Commander Riley was born and raised on Mars. He received an average middle-class education along with his brother and sister, and had two parents that were able to support him for his entire childhood. He and his brother Sargent Leon Riley both joined the the army after high school and received a college education after combat training, courtesy of the central government. Several years later his sister Michelle Riley suffered from a then-recently discovered illness present only on Mars, resulting in paralysis from the waist-down. Both Scott and Leon took a leave of absence to care for her until she recovered from the illness, however the paralysis persists. By this time, both parents have died of natural causes. Upon returning to duty in 4590, both brothers were assigned to different squads sent to perform the same mission: an assault on A2297-1, an asteroid colony in the A sector of the belt that served as a checkpoint for refugees between the outer solar system and a designated Martian Interplanetary Orbital Dominance Sector (MIODS). Alpha Team, to which Sgt. Riley had been assigned, was to infiltrate the colony as recon, with teams Bravo - Foxtrot to serve as the advance force to launch a coordinated surprise assault for the main forces to follow up. The rebel forces were anticipating our assault, however, and as a result Alpha team was nearly wiped out in a counter-ambush. By the time reinforcements had arrived, Sgt. Riley was mortally wounded and perished before medical aid could be provided. Despite overwhelming odds, Cmdr. Riley along with the remaining assault teams were able to completely destroy enemy forces before the central army's main forces arrived. For his bravery and dedication to completing the mission, Cmdr. Riley was awarded the EMA Medal of Valor. After his brother's death, Cmdr. Riley began to suffer from depression and PTSD. Mental therapy sessions were mandated by level 3 Class A personnel and after 14 weeks he made a nearly-full recovery. After observing a new and ideal personality type in Cmdr. Riley, Sabre staff approached him with the intent to induct him into the project. Cmdr. Riley consented and gave researchers full cooperation. As of 01/22/98, work on Sabre02 begins and is completed in 4 months based on research left over from Sabre01. Combat training and augmentation specialization testing commences and concludes within the next two months; Sabre02 is now ready for deployment. Specializations: Sabre02 is modeled after Sabre01 in terms of functionality. While other members of the Sabre team will be recruited and designed for specific purposes, S02 will be outfitted to handle every situation and cover every need. Because of this broad lack of specialization, individual Sabres who specialize in a field will likely preform at a higher level than S02. However, S02 will spearhead Sabre Operations on the ground. All Sabres are expected to follow orders issued by S02. - Basic and Advanced level training in each major weapons category, all formal martial arts training, and first-aid. S02 is outfitted to carry up to two [2] different high-caliber rifles, two [2] personal-arms handguns, and one [1] melee hand-held blade. - S02's SDS (Sabre Deployment Suit) is outfitted with energy shielding similar to SDS09. However, energy requirements by other features allow for less overall shielding potential. Note the formation of energy-based weaponry is not possible. - Medium plating armor balances protection and weight. Armor is outfitted with cartridge stores to hold excesses of ammunition - Energy propulsion capabilities installed on SDS02's back, palms and underside of feet. Short and powerful bursts can clear chasms, alter trajectory, and easily navigate in areas of low gravity. Sustained use allows for gravity defiance, and possibly flight. This second use must be used in moderation due to high energy consumption rate. - SDS02 is equipped with a broadsword, as mentioned above. It is forged from a composite alloy that is both light and durable, allowing for great ease of use. The edges are made of diamond, making this blade capable of cutting most physical materials without dulling. - Muscular, cardiovascular and respiratory enhancements for improved performance all-around. - Optical enhancements improving eyesight, allowing for farther vision as well as toggled vision modes including night vision, thermal, infrared and ultraviolet. - Active camouflage system which bends light around the suit, rendering it invisible to the naked eye. This technology is still in development, so it's uses are limited to being motionless and against targets which do not possess appropriate visual aid. - Reflex and coordination enhancements; S02's "human reaction time" has been improved to an average of 50ms, allowing for quicker and more decisive action in situations of stress. Due to physical constraints on S02's brain and nervous system, a specially-designed medication has been given to him. S02 is to carry as many doses as needed to carry out once-per-day use without skipping more than one day at a time. Command will provide S02 with an appropriate dosage at the outset of each mission. [SPECIAL NOTE: Any and all personal accompanying S02 on a mission must ensure S02 takes this medication on time. Failure to do so can result in [DATA EXPUNGED], as well as compromise the mission.] Enter Console command\| Logging off... Shutting down... Good bye.</s> <\|message\|>James Mathias Alexander James sighed as he stood among his fellow soldiers, he had kept quiet this entire time, considering the woman went on a childish rampage. The sniper acted unprofessional, waving his knife around and dishing out commands even though he was not the leader, people like them got someone killed. The woman already did, but the sniper had a lot of hidden records, which bothered him greatly. Men like him are never truly able to cohere with a team, this was not going to go well if they were going to keep this shit up. When he was deep in he NEEDED to bond with the team he was with, they needed to know every flaw, every skill, this made them men, and not just numbers. The guys with suits may not care for them, but they cared for each other, and that's what mattered. Even his command while he was in the Service cared, all of the big-wigs showed up to ONE man's funeral, and he was only a PFC, grant they couldn't always do it, but they did it whenever they could. To him, the Service was who he was, this sort of feeling made him adjust the leather coat he wore, it was a well-fitting leather jacket with his Battalion's symbol with the Winged Dagger of the S.A.S., on the dagger hung a gas mask. Above it read '23rd Battalion, He Who Dares Wins'. There was a reason he was picked for them, and this, he was the best at his profession, and those who matched him barely did so even before his augs. Now he was truly the best around with his kit, his augs, he was the most qualified in his eyes. At least for now, one day he would be replaced. Until that day comes however, he is gonna set one high fucking standard for whoever comes in after he does. His job was to control the fight, and even in the S.A.S with less than half the shit he had now he was one hell of a soldier, with his new drone, a Hollenhund. One lovely machine if he said so himself, a lovely amount of combat modifications gave him another soldier to fight with, this could make his life a lot easier. Running through the files of the other teammates, other than two he wanted to crack...Fucking wankers. The rest looked so much more worthwhile, and more tolerable. 6 and 9 had their skills, but they both seemed to be fatally flawed in a way that truly makes them butt heads pretty hard...This'll be fun indeed...Or so he hoped. Then his brain had a lightbulb and he spoke up rather randomly. "I apologize for not speakin' up earlier, James Mathias Alexander. A former S.A.S Scout and Unconventional Combat Specialist, I can high-jack any machine with nano-tech, or if you need someone isolated, I can get it done. I pretty much cause a shitstorm for our foes, giving us an opportunity to end an engagement early, or get the fuck outta dodge, whichever comes first. Oh! I also have a Masters in Robotics and a Bachelors in Nanotechnology, you can get that and more off my dossier. Alright, rant over." He quieted quickly and rolled his shoulders, trying to relax after that little speech. Fuck...He needed his gear, he was more comfortable in a military outfit, and in the field, not in a lift with people he didn't know worth shit.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges As she heard the Lt speak Saf quickly reached down to her wrist comp and pulled up his file, glancing over it and picking out the important details before turning her attention to the quiet 'Englishman'. Quickly running her eyes down his body Saf did a quick assessment. For a guy hitting his thirties Lt Alexander looked more like someone in their late teens. Either he'd taken really good care of himself or his family had enough money to pay for incredible thorough gene scrubbing in utero. Her money was on the former though, families who threw their money away on making sure their children were born with perfect genes tended to keep them at home rather than letting them enlist in potentially life threatening military careers. If he had come from money like that he'd more likely be the one sitting behind the monitor, beside Overwatch, than riding a freight elevator. "Special Air Service veteran? Where were you posted?" Before he had a chance to answer Saf quickly held up her hand with a smile, "Don't tell me. 'it's classified', right?"</s> <\|message\|>Jackson Indar Jackson remained silent for majority of the trip, eyes glued to the majestic scene of the Earth outside the viewport. It was awe-inspiring, and it was no surprise that it was a beacon of hope for the Conglomerate. Pulling his eyes away from the window and his mind back to reality, he began wondering about many things at once. What kind of gear are we gonna get? I know I'm a medic, but what kind of stuff will I be using? What about a gun? And what will everyone else use? Questions whizzed around Indar's head faster than he could answer them. Jackson turned his head to 05, who before that point had said nothing. "Well James, great to have you on board. As you probably know, Jackson Indar" Jackson introduced himself again, outstretching his arm to the other man for a handshake. "By god, this elevator has got to be almost there by now, right?" Jackson asked.</s> <\|message\|>Seth Garron Seth's mind began churning again with the new off-dossier info on the newly spoken tech savant. Hmm... More attempts at lowering off-duty tensions. Do these agents keep off-duty feelings while on the battlefield? Risky to do so. One would think that any feelings towards a teammate outside of combat would most logically be compartmentalized to off-duty, while during a mission, the most critical thing would be ensuring safety of as many operatives as possible. -Deductions: 05 and 09 will become closest, due to similar relationship-mending goals. 07 will be second-closest with 09. Also attempting to keep positive mannerisms with all teammates. -Note to self: check for social normality in keeping all team relationships positive. Video games have proven otherwise. Source - Alpha Protocol. Relationships built on "owing" one another in the form of favors and working together based on goals, not feelings. Internet search to follow... -Tactics: 05 would be optimal for flanking with robotics and numbers on his side. 09 would be second-best. They will most likely bond best; therefore, they could flank simultaneously, increasing flank effectiveness. Shields and robotics. Least casualties. The 'Tactics' note made Seth rethink the 'one-(wo)man distraction battalion', and now thinking of a two-man distraction armada, with 05's robots on his side.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges As the elevator finally ground to a halt the party were faced with a set of heavy cargo bay doors emblazoned with the sign A23F. Quickly stepping off the platform Saf made her way towards them, watching with a mixture of trepidation and excitement as the access hissed open in front of her. Pausing for a moment she looked back at her new CO, reminded for a moment that she still had to respect the chain-of-command, no matter how informal her commander liked to keep it. "Sir?" She asked cautiously, "Permission to proceed?"</s>	<\|message\|>Scott Riley Scott answered Saf's question, "Yes. Right this way, everyone." He led everyone to the door, stepping to the side in order to access the lock. It was a standard hand print lock, displaying a silhouette of a hand as it prompted authentication aloud. Placing his hand on the lock, a blue light appeared as a bar on-screen and swept from top to bottom. The scan finished, causing the door to slide open sideways away from the lock. "Alright everyone, you'll know what to do as soon as you step inside." Entering first, Scott couldn't help but smile as he saw each of the Sabre Suits lined up along the far wall, in numerical order. Varying in size and appearence drastically, they were a glorious sight to behold indeed. Proceeding to his suit, Scott began to outfit himself. In other spots on the walls and in crates on the floor were other supplies and armament, such as pistols, assault riffles, combat knives, grenades, first-aid kits, riot shields, and even a few launchers. This was an armory designed specifically for the current Sabres, and it certainly showed.</s>
<\|description\|>Cyprian Sigmund Accessing database ************9264-08, Operation Shadow-Sabre Unit S08 dosier... Access complete, Loading... -Beta Stage: 7th, June, 4598 Notes[ Sabre08 dosier accessible as of ET 4:00 am on 6/7/4598 ] [ redirecting... ] [ done ] Sabre-08 Military Rank None (Formally, Dr.) Age 37 Sex Male Appearance Cyprian stands at 182.88cm, and weighs 74.8427kg. His snow white hair hangs unkempt, barely reaching his bright blue eyes, and surpassing his ears. His face is rather sharp and lean in shape, but in no way malnourished or otherwise deprived. His broad shoulders and confident posture contradict his lack of significant muscle. One would not pin his body type to be that of a soldier. When not deployed, Cyprian wears a white and gray lab coat, black slacks, and black shoes. His attire is designed to stave off harmful chemicals. Personality Neutral Good Cyprian is a scientist first and foremost. Even as a Sabre, his job is that of his previous fields of expertise. He sees the Sabre project as not only a team, but a new opportunity for learning and experimentation. His optimism might slightly annoy the other Sabres at times, but they will quickly see his devotion towards making sure everyone gets home in one piece. Biography DOB: 12th, December, 4560 Sigmund was born and resided in Asteroid Sector 2575920-19485 until the age of seventeen [17]. There he attended standard primary and secondary tier education, showing exceptional academic skill in mathematical and scientific fields of study. At the age of seventeen [17], Sigmund relocated to the Martian Institute of Information Technology and Sciences. Until the age of thirty-seven [37], Sigmund maintained a 4.00GPA in all fields of study. However, his PhD's are only in the following fields. Note that each field is a broad spectrum, and each contains multiple actual doctoral studies: Engineering Computer and Information Science Mathematics Astronomy Atmospheric Science and Meteorology Chemistry Physics Dr. Sigmund's accomplishments in his doctoral studies is of great interest to Dr.[REDACTED]. Sigmund is to be contacted by Sabre-Recruitment Team, and deployed as Sabre 08. Specializations Skills Sigmund's vast intelligence and technological skills will be an asset to the Sabre Project. Subject has shown the ability to self-teach and therein operate foreign computer systems, recall inhuman amounts of information and knowledge with no outside aid, and has hundreds of patented inventions related to his fields of degrees. Augmentations Due to his role on the Sabre Project, Sigmund has received little in the way of Sabre-level augmentation, not receiving augs designed for combat.: Model AJHAP-255910 Electronic Sensory Nodes Implanted into cerebral cortex, enhancement of thought process and speed. Subject can store, recall and process information faster. Neurons now fire in excess of 500 times/second (compared to the average of 200/sec). Direct Wireless Binary Access Module This module is installed at the base of the skull. Allows subject to wirelessly connect to and control computer and operation systems. This is done by redirecting electrical pulses down the spinal cord to instead trip sensors in the module, which convert the pulses to binary code, and are wirelessly transmitted to the target. Subject can control the target system with thought-based commands. S08 Deployment Suit The S08 Model Deployment suit, like models S02 through S09, are all designed and built by Dr. Sigmund. Similarly to his augmentaitons, S08's SDS is not optimized for combat. Sabre OS Intergration The Sabre Operating System v8.0 is installed within this suit. The suit is a fully functioning computer, able to show displays on both the inside and outside of the visor, and on a tech-pad installed on the right wrist. System is optimized for the Binary Access Module. As long as user maintains connection to Overwatch, he can access all data that the user is cleared for. Plasma Energy Beam Fire-Arm S08 SDS is outfitted with an arm cannon on the left arm, set on the posterior side. Cannon is capable of firing many types of energy-based shots, including standard energy pulses, disruption beams, exothermic and endothermic rays, and high-concentration energy blasts. The PFA is highly useful but is out shined by standard firearms in raw stopping power. Temporal Stasis / Tractor Beam Utility-Arm Opposite the Plasma Fire-Arm is a similar energy based gun upon the right arm. However the energy types associated with the Temporal Utility-Arm are not optimized for combat. Instead, this tool can warp space. This has near unlimited uses, but is highly taxing upon the suit's energy reserve. Advisory against the use of the Temporal Utility-Arm in excess is recommended. Temporal Thrusters The space-warping energy of the TUA is also installed in the palms, soles and back of the S08 SDS. However, these installations are specialized to only allow for propulsion. Use of the Temporal Thruster is less taxing than the TUA, and presice angling of the hands, feet and torso can allow for full-directional movement.</s> <\|message\|>Scott Riley Watching as the first arguments already began, Scott couldn't help but let out a short laugh. "If you don't mind, you'll all have plenty of time to get your irks and quirks out of your system en-route to our mission. But for now, I would like to remind you all that we're in the presence of Overwatch, and as such you should all be on your best behavior." He waited a moment in silence, making sure everyone understood him. Turning in place to face the monitor, he rubbed his chin briefly and said, "My apologies, sir. please continue."</s> <\|message\|>SABRE TEAM "Thank you, Zero-Two. Now, I'm sorry to burst your bubbles, but this first assignment will not be on the field. This will be an exercise of sorts. It would be a grave mistake so send you out against the JFA without getting used to your new augmentations, equipment, and team-mates." Overwatch adjusted his glasses again and fixed his gaze on Cyprian. "Zero-Eight. Have you relocated the SDS's to designation Alpha Twenty-Three Foxtrot?" "Affirmative, sir. Models Zero-Two and Zero-Eight are test confirmed, and the other six models are fully functional and ready for testing." Cyprian responded in a normal tone, a method of speech new to his allies. "Very good. Zero-Two, lead your team to Alpha Twenty-Three Foxtrot, and have them suit up. Even though you and Zero-Eight are confirmed, I want you to partake in this assignment again."</s> <\|message\|>Seth Garron Seth's attention was brought back to Oh-Two talking about this sort of banter being done en route. This shouldn't continue past this room. En route should be spent strategizing an briefing of any sort that 02 can do. If we bicker en route, we'll surely bicker on the battlefield. Well, this time it would be on a training field of some sort. At least there's some soundness in their strategy, having us tested with these SMS's before being sent into a real firefight. Alpha Twenty-Three Foxtrot... A23F. It might help to remember that. My memory might become faulty before the time of its relevance... Someone should be able to remember. Once Overwatch had finished giving orders, Seth stood up and absent-mindedly saluted the figure on the screen, wobbling a bit as he stood up, still getting used to the bottoms of his feet not giving off any feeling, which forced Seth to calculate his balance by means other than his foot bottoms. Once he readjusted his balance, he turned to Oh-Two and made an 'after you' motion towards the door, ready to leave and finally have the mental challenge he'd been craving since arriving at the facility.</s> <\|message\|>Scott Riley "Yes, sir" Scott said to the monitor with a short salute. With that, the monitor powered down and a click could be heard from the door as it unlocked electronically. "Alright everyone, enough waiting around. Follow me." Leaving the room, there was a hallway spanning left-to-right. Once everyone was outside, Scott lead the group down the hall to the left. The facility they were currently located in was on Earth, and as such there was a certain high-class aesthetic about the building. Hardly any dust on the floors, the walls and ceiling free of marks or dents. After about three minutes of walking they stopped in front of a large gate. This was an elevator shaft, meant to be used by whole platoons and possibly even fit a small vehicle. As he called the elevator to the current floor, a low whirring sound came from below. It seemed like an eternity before the elevator finally reached the current floor. The gates opened, and Scott stepped onto the large platform which echoed a hollow metallic sound beneath his boots. "Everyone, please step onto the platform. We're heading down. Doc, you can take it from here."</s> <\|message\|>Jax "Ghost Reaper" Orion Jax sat in his chair as he stopped playing with his knife and soon returned it to the sheath on his belt. He waited for every member of the team to stand up and move out of the room before he finally fallowed suit. He was used to bringing up the rear, so it felt most familiar to him even in simple situations like this. Keeping a few steps back he fallowed everyone along the hallway. He looked around as he did as well. The building was so, clean and proper. He honestly hadn't seen anything like it in a very long time. Most of the time operating out of a ship or station, going to places that were even less well maintained some times. That was the nature of the beast though. Everyone on earth had power and money, it makes since that every thing is well maintained. Soon enough though they arrived at the elevator shaft. He kept to hime self and observed the others, watching them as they waited. After time seemed to pass by slower waiting on the elevator, but finally it arrived. Moving he leaned against the railings on the side of it. Even the rails on this fright elevator was sturdy. He'd been on some elevators that you doubted would make it the floor you wanted, and it was miracle when you did. Reaching up he pushed just underneath this left ear. The cybernetics in his eyes coming to life. Soon every one was highlighted and there names and saber numbers were shown. It even showed life signs. He assumed these were readings from there own IFFs. He decided to leave him active, as the elevator came to life and they were soon on there way to retrieve equipment.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges Saf could feel Sgt Orion walking behind her and it made her spine itch even more than the jack ports which had been installed down her back. She didn't trust him, and even though knew that when they were out in the field he would be watching over her she needed some kind of assurance he wouldn't be saving a round for her. Hanging back from the rest of the group slightly she took her chance as they waited for the elevator to turn on her new teammate with what she hoped was a friendly smile. "We good?" She asked, her tone level and precise. She'd noticed he didn't like talking much, so she kept her question as brief as she could.</s> <\|message\|>Seth Garron Seth raised his eyebrows at 09's question of her status with 06. Hmm... Her speech style has adapted to 06's speech patterns. She's not showing any emotion. Short, clipped sentence. She must be worried that a highly trained sniper would keep a grudge against his own teammate. Highly unlikely, since in combat, this team has greater things to think about than a tiff that occurred off the battlefield. His attire assumes that he's either been off duty for an extended period of time or he is either in or has recently been in highly secretive military/federal operations. The latter is most likely, since we're called 'the best of the best'. This leads to the assumption that 06 would not be motivated to assault, let alone kill, a member of his squad purely for a spat. Especially since it has the possibility of jeopardizing an operation. Once he got on the elevator with the others, Seth shifted his eyes over to 06 for a response. Meanwhile, he takes notes and makes predictions. -Calculation: 06 will use two or less words, including a slight nod of the head. Thus, 09 will either nod in response, if she continues this personality adaptation of 06, or she will smile and thank him, if she reverts to her own personality, originally exhibited in the briefing room. -Observation: 09 seems to be trying to get on people's 'good side', at least since her spat with 06. -Note: no biases or initial connotations should be used when speaking to 09 to avoid possible misinterpretations or aggravations. Trust, and possibly inferiority, issues have been causing extreme emotional bursts. Volatility could be a weakness. Or, redirected, can be a possible distraction method against enemy units. Hm... With the last two mental sentences, Seth contemplates the thought of 09 being used as a one-(wo)man distraction battalion.</s>	<\|message\|>Cyprian Sigmund "I certainly hope so, Zero-Nine. This will be a long ride." Cyprian answered Saffron's question, though it was directed at another. His tone returned to its bright and cheery attitude and stood out against hers. The elevator was one of industrial use, all eight occupants easily fit inside with plenty of room to spare. It was these kinds of lifts that would transport heavy machinery to different levels of the the structure. Cyprian selected the desired floor, and the lift lurched into motion. The lift's decent caused those inside to feel lighter in weight. In reality, the falling platform reduces the "normal force" that pushes against the people standing on it, since the object applying the force is moving away from the object that the force is being applied to. It is actually this normal force that is felt by a person standing on a surface. Therefore, the apparent gravitational force felt by those on the moving platform is reduced. Cyprian was very close to explaining all of this on the way down, were it not for the beautiful scenery that made itself visible through windows that would periodically flash past the elevator. Looking outside, Cyprian and anyone else who looked saw the starry backdrop of deep space shimmering behind beacons of light that marked the presence of satellite structures. The bright sun light peaked from around a massive body that covered almost all of the field of vision downward. Peering down, one could see white clouds swirling and streaking across vibrant blue oceans, and green masses of land. Off to the side was a grey sphere far off in the distance. Only the lower half of this sphere was illuminated. "Ahhhh... Earth truly is a magnificent sight, isn't she?" Cyprian held his head in his hands as he pressed his face against the window, a bit too eager to take in the view as the party descended closer and closer towards the planet's surface.</s>
<\|description\|>Cyprian Sigmund Accessing database ************9264-08, Operation Shadow-Sabre Unit S08 dosier... Access complete, Loading... -Beta Stage: 7th, June, 4598 Notes[ Sabre08 dosier accessible as of ET 4:00 am on 6/7/4598 ] [ redirecting... ] [ done ] Sabre-08 Military Rank None (Formally, Dr.) Age 37 Sex Male Appearance Cyprian stands at 182.88cm, and weighs 74.8427kg. His snow white hair hangs unkempt, barely reaching his bright blue eyes, and surpassing his ears. His face is rather sharp and lean in shape, but in no way malnourished or otherwise deprived. His broad shoulders and confident posture contradict his lack of significant muscle. One would not pin his body type to be that of a soldier. When not deployed, Cyprian wears a white and gray lab coat, black slacks, and black shoes. His attire is designed to stave off harmful chemicals. Personality Neutral Good Cyprian is a scientist first and foremost. Even as a Sabre, his job is that of his previous fields of expertise. He sees the Sabre project as not only a team, but a new opportunity for learning and experimentation. His optimism might slightly annoy the other Sabres at times, but they will quickly see his devotion towards making sure everyone gets home in one piece. Biography DOB: 12th, December, 4560 Sigmund was born and resided in Asteroid Sector 2575920-19485 until the age of seventeen [17]. There he attended standard primary and secondary tier education, showing exceptional academic skill in mathematical and scientific fields of study. At the age of seventeen [17], Sigmund relocated to the Martian Institute of Information Technology and Sciences. Until the age of thirty-seven [37], Sigmund maintained a 4.00GPA in all fields of study. However, his PhD's are only in the following fields. Note that each field is a broad spectrum, and each contains multiple actual doctoral studies: Engineering Computer and Information Science Mathematics Astronomy Atmospheric Science and Meteorology Chemistry Physics Dr. Sigmund's accomplishments in his doctoral studies is of great interest to Dr.[REDACTED]. Sigmund is to be contacted by Sabre-Recruitment Team, and deployed as Sabre 08. Specializations Skills Sigmund's vast intelligence and technological skills will be an asset to the Sabre Project. Subject has shown the ability to self-teach and therein operate foreign computer systems, recall inhuman amounts of information and knowledge with no outside aid, and has hundreds of patented inventions related to his fields of degrees. Augmentations Due to his role on the Sabre Project, Sigmund has received little in the way of Sabre-level augmentation, not receiving augs designed for combat.: Model AJHAP-255910 Electronic Sensory Nodes Implanted into cerebral cortex, enhancement of thought process and speed. Subject can store, recall and process information faster. Neurons now fire in excess of 500 times/second (compared to the average of 200/sec). Direct Wireless Binary Access Module This module is installed at the base of the skull. Allows subject to wirelessly connect to and control computer and operation systems. This is done by redirecting electrical pulses down the spinal cord to instead trip sensors in the module, which convert the pulses to binary code, and are wirelessly transmitted to the target. Subject can control the target system with thought-based commands. S08 Deployment Suit The S08 Model Deployment suit, like models S02 through S09, are all designed and built by Dr. Sigmund. Similarly to his augmentaitons, S08's SDS is not optimized for combat. Sabre OS Intergration The Sabre Operating System v8.0 is installed within this suit. The suit is a fully functioning computer, able to show displays on both the inside and outside of the visor, and on a tech-pad installed on the right wrist. System is optimized for the Binary Access Module. As long as user maintains connection to Overwatch, he can access all data that the user is cleared for. Plasma Energy Beam Fire-Arm S08 SDS is outfitted with an arm cannon on the left arm, set on the posterior side. Cannon is capable of firing many types of energy-based shots, including standard energy pulses, disruption beams, exothermic and endothermic rays, and high-concentration energy blasts. The PFA is highly useful but is out shined by standard firearms in raw stopping power. Temporal Stasis / Tractor Beam Utility-Arm Opposite the Plasma Fire-Arm is a similar energy based gun upon the right arm. However the energy types associated with the Temporal Utility-Arm are not optimized for combat. Instead, this tool can warp space. This has near unlimited uses, but is highly taxing upon the suit's energy reserve. Advisory against the use of the Temporal Utility-Arm in excess is recommended. Temporal Thrusters The space-warping energy of the TUA is also installed in the palms, soles and back of the S08 SDS. However, these installations are specialized to only allow for propulsion. Use of the Temporal Thruster is less taxing than the TUA, and presice angling of the hands, feet and torso can allow for full-directional movement.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges As she heard the Lt speak Saf quickly reached down to her wrist comp and pulled up his file, glancing over it and picking out the important details before turning her attention to the quiet 'Englishman'. Quickly running her eyes down his body Saf did a quick assessment. For a guy hitting his thirties Lt Alexander looked more like someone in their late teens. Either he'd taken really good care of himself or his family had enough money to pay for incredible thorough gene scrubbing in utero. Her money was on the former though, families who threw their money away on making sure their children were born with perfect genes tended to keep them at home rather than letting them enlist in potentially life threatening military careers. If he had come from money like that he'd more likely be the one sitting behind the monitor, beside Overwatch, than riding a freight elevator. "Special Air Service veteran? Where were you posted?" Before he had a chance to answer Saf quickly held up her hand with a smile, "Don't tell me. 'it's classified', right?"</s> <\|message\|>Jackson Indar Jackson remained silent for majority of the trip, eyes glued to the majestic scene of the Earth outside the viewport. It was awe-inspiring, and it was no surprise that it was a beacon of hope for the Conglomerate. Pulling his eyes away from the window and his mind back to reality, he began wondering about many things at once. What kind of gear are we gonna get? I know I'm a medic, but what kind of stuff will I be using? What about a gun? And what will everyone else use? Questions whizzed around Indar's head faster than he could answer them. Jackson turned his head to 05, who before that point had said nothing. "Well James, great to have you on board. As you probably know, Jackson Indar" Jackson introduced himself again, outstretching his arm to the other man for a handshake. "By god, this elevator has got to be almost there by now, right?" Jackson asked.</s> <\|message\|>Seth Garron Seth's mind began churning again with the new off-dossier info on the newly spoken tech savant. Hmm... More attempts at lowering off-duty tensions. Do these agents keep off-duty feelings while on the battlefield? Risky to do so. One would think that any feelings towards a teammate outside of combat would most logically be compartmentalized to off-duty, while during a mission, the most critical thing would be ensuring safety of as many operatives as possible. -Deductions: 05 and 09 will become closest, due to similar relationship-mending goals. 07 will be second-closest with 09. Also attempting to keep positive mannerisms with all teammates. -Note to self: check for social normality in keeping all team relationships positive. Video games have proven otherwise. Source - Alpha Protocol. Relationships built on "owing" one another in the form of favors and working together based on goals, not feelings. Internet search to follow... -Tactics: 05 would be optimal for flanking with robotics and numbers on his side. 09 would be second-best. They will most likely bond best; therefore, they could flank simultaneously, increasing flank effectiveness. Shields and robotics. Least casualties. The 'Tactics' note made Seth rethink the 'one-(wo)man distraction battalion', and now thinking of a two-man distraction armada, with 05's robots on his side.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges As the elevator finally ground to a halt the party were faced with a set of heavy cargo bay doors emblazoned with the sign A23F. Quickly stepping off the platform Saf made her way towards them, watching with a mixture of trepidation and excitement as the access hissed open in front of her. Pausing for a moment she looked back at her new CO, reminded for a moment that she still had to respect the chain-of-command, no matter how informal her commander liked to keep it. "Sir?" She asked cautiously, "Permission to proceed?"</s> <\|message\|>Scott Riley Scott answered Saf's question, "Yes. Right this way, everyone." He led everyone to the door, stepping to the side in order to access the lock. It was a standard hand print lock, displaying a silhouette of a hand as it prompted authentication aloud. Placing his hand on the lock, a blue light appeared as a bar on-screen and swept from top to bottom. The scan finished, causing the door to slide open sideways away from the lock. "Alright everyone, you'll know what to do as soon as you step inside." Entering first, Scott couldn't help but smile as he saw each of the Sabre Suits lined up along the far wall, in numerical order. Varying in size and appearence drastically, they were a glorious sight to behold indeed. Proceeding to his suit, Scott began to outfit himself. In other spots on the walls and in crates on the floor were other supplies and armament, such as pistols, assault riffles, combat knives, grenades, first-aid kits, riot shields, and even a few launchers. This was an armory designed specifically for the current Sabres, and it certainly showed.</s> <\|message\|>Jackson Indar Indar smiled as he entered the armory. The clean, steel walls were lined with suits, armour and weaponry, ready just for them. Indar approached the suit on the wall with '07' over it in simple block numbers. Walking over, he examined the suit he'd be wearing. It was made up of two parts, a rough cloth material in a tan sort of colour and blue armour plates over the top, covering his arms, lower legs, torso and head. There was also a table in front of the suit, with his equipment laid out on it. Immediately catching his eye was an assault rifle. It had a strange magazine, almost octagonal in shape. He found it strange, but assumed that it would probably hold more ammo that way. Moving on, there was a white pistol with a revolver barrel. The barrel, instead of pushing out to one side and spinning to reload, half of the barrel would push out either way, and cartridges would be loaded that way. Strange weapons, but they look effective Indar remarked in his head. He moved on to the seven thin and long cylindrical objects next to the guns. They looked similar, but two of them were different from the other five. Five of them had three short, needle-like extrusions at the bottom and a white button at the top. The other two had a pin at the top and were slightly shorter and thicker. It took Jackson a second to realise what he was looking at. They were advanced med-kits, injected into the arm. They alleviated pain and kept people alive for longer. The other two were things he didn't even know existed. They were healing grenades, and when thrown towards allies, a burst of chemicals and nanites would rejuvenate and heal his allies. Impressed by the developers, Jackson began suiting up, the med-kits and grenades fitting nicely on one side of the belt, and his revolver on the other. There was one other thing on a small shelf underneath the table. It was a white box with a red cross on it. There was a small note on a piece of paper sitting on the box. "In case all else fails... :)" Indar read aloud as he retrieved the first-aid box. The handle of the box fit nicely on two hooks located on his lower back. Jackson smiled once more as he looked down at all the advanced Sabre gear he was wearing. "I think I'm gonna like it here" He remarked.</s>	<\|message\|>Cyprian Sigmund "Finally, let us see if my intuition and study has allowed for the most ergonomic integration." Cyprian wondered out loud as he approached his suit. Each outfit was sealed within either own large glass cylinder, with a base of machinery and computational systems displaying information. Cyprian places his hand on the screen in front of his suit, as Scott did to open the door. After doing this, the glass rose from around his suit, and he pulled it out of its chamber. The flexible grey and black exoskin was a separate entity from the silver and white armor that would lay around it. After slipping on the skin and donning the armor, he tapped a screen on his wrist, and several lights began to blink and glow across his wrists and around his visor. On each arm, machinery moves down from his shoulders to his forearms, and piece themselves together into two cannon-like items. These cannons rest on the outside of his forearms, keeping his hands free. "Ahh yes, this feels good." He said as he stretches and flexes in the armor, testing its mobility and expressing satisfaction with his agility. "What do the rest of you think? Each of these suits have been designed specially for you. Try them on! I hope you will enjoy them."</s>
<\|description\|>Jax "Ghost Reaper" Orion Sabre06 Military Rank: Sargent Age:28 Sex:Male Appearance: Personality: Ghost is a quite, reserved man, Cautious and patient believing in the saying, always appear less then you are. He tends to keep to himself and speaks mostly only when necessary. Despite that he is a very compassionate and protective. It takes him awhile to truly trust people but once he does he is very loyal to his friends and would protect them with his life. On a mission he has learned away to focus on a goal and push down all emotion, his old unit used to say he went "Ghost" which is how he earned his nickname. Biography: Jax is from a military family, his family joining the military as long as they can trace back. So it wasn't much of a surprise when he him self joined. Unlike most it was a very easy transition, but Jax wanted to challenge himself. So instead of simply enlisting as a foot soldier he shot for Spec Ops. He knew it was going to be hard, the selection process alone was hard. Only a hand full out of the hundreds of candidates even being picked. After several months he was finally selected, he shipped out and was heading for some of the most grueling training there is. He went with nearly 200 initiates, out that nearly 95% of them wouldn't make it. Training was nothing like he imagined. They would be awake for nearly a week at a time, send them on ops where they would have to sleep wherever they could. Which wasn't hard considering how tired everybody was. It was designed to test there endurance and fortitude as they were put in the worst conditions they could think up, cold, heat, even low garv situations and whatever else some sick sadistic mind thought of. In a six month training process there class was reduced down to half before the end of there 2nd month. Durning that Six months even Jax had thought about quitting, though the instructors had already starting calling him the Ghost as the apparently liked to call everyone by some sort of nickname. After awhile though time started to mean nothing. They would get a few days to rest but most spent those days studying for there the test they have to take besides the physical. It seemed like it would never end, but one day it finally came. Jax and 12 others graduated and would be placed in the field. Jax moved out and was instantly put to work. Working in special forces he spent years out on the field, earth being a distant memory as it was always one op after another. After many operations though his Commander recommended him for Scout sniper. More then just his ability it was his calm demeanor and patients. His natural ability to suppress everything and focus on his goals was also noticed as in the middle of a fire fight once he "Ghosted" it was like nothing was evening happening. This also meant more training, another six months off the field. Scout sniper training was a whole new kind of battle. They were trained to operate on there own: Survival skills, moving unseen, how to spot position, build snipers nest, how to calculate how a bullet will travel over long distances. Shooting itself was less important then knowing when to shoot. They took hours ingraining muscle memory into there habits and how to survey every situation they were in. He graduated in the top ten of his class, 6th to be more specific. But he got lucky. He was assigned a new team that was almost immediately sent out. He worked in the field before he was approached, he wasn't the best shot but he was a well rounded soldier. Because of this he was selected to join the Sabre Program. Specializations: Natural Ability: Survival skills Over watch Stealth Expert marksman Mechanical SKills Augmentations: Augmented skin: His entire epidermal lay has been lined with a thin membrane that acts as a filter as well as oxygen abosrbers and microscopic air scrubbers. This allows him to breath through his skin as well as filter the air from contaminants protecting him from most kinds of Airborne toxins. They also link up to his Suit, measuring humidity and other environmental factors Cybernetic optics: His eyes have been replaced with cybernetic ones. This gives him enhanced optics as well as giving him multiple vision modes, to include thermal, night and night. They also link directly in the optics of his helmet and and weapon allowing him to have lest visual obstructions as the three also work together to process ranges, measure wind speed even allowing him to see how much light is on him and any other information can be scent right to him. Cerebral system Inhibitor: An Implant that allows his his mind to go a week with out sleep. By systematically shutting down qudrants of the brain it allows him not to get mentally fatigued. When need be it reactivates any parts resting so that he is back at 100%. This however doesn't erase the need for sleep, after a week he will sometimes sleep for two days or longer depending on how taxing the assignment was. Saber O6: His suit is a lightweight offering less protection for more mobility as well as linking into his own augmentations. It also contains a fluids and nutrient systems for if he has to spend long periods of time in the field with out food or water, it also has a filtration system for some, other bodily functions. His suit is a self contained environment system as well, taking readings and adjusting so that he can handle almost any enviroment.</s> <\|message\|>Scott Riley "Yes, sir" Scott said to the monitor with a short salute. With that, the monitor powered down and a click could be heard from the door as it unlocked electronically. "Alright everyone, enough waiting around. Follow me." Leaving the room, there was a hallway spanning left-to-right. Once everyone was outside, Scott lead the group down the hall to the left. The facility they were currently located in was on Earth, and as such there was a certain high-class aesthetic about the building. Hardly any dust on the floors, the walls and ceiling free of marks or dents. After about three minutes of walking they stopped in front of a large gate. This was an elevator shaft, meant to be used by whole platoons and possibly even fit a small vehicle. As he called the elevator to the current floor, a low whirring sound came from below. It seemed like an eternity before the elevator finally reached the current floor. The gates opened, and Scott stepped onto the large platform which echoed a hollow metallic sound beneath his boots. "Everyone, please step onto the platform. We're heading down. Doc, you can take it from here."</s> <\|message\|>Jax "Ghost Reaper" Orion Jax sat in his chair as he stopped playing with his knife and soon returned it to the sheath on his belt. He waited for every member of the team to stand up and move out of the room before he finally fallowed suit. He was used to bringing up the rear, so it felt most familiar to him even in simple situations like this. Keeping a few steps back he fallowed everyone along the hallway. He looked around as he did as well. The building was so, clean and proper. He honestly hadn't seen anything like it in a very long time. Most of the time operating out of a ship or station, going to places that were even less well maintained some times. That was the nature of the beast though. Everyone on earth had power and money, it makes since that every thing is well maintained. Soon enough though they arrived at the elevator shaft. He kept to hime self and observed the others, watching them as they waited. After time seemed to pass by slower waiting on the elevator, but finally it arrived. Moving he leaned against the railings on the side of it. Even the rails on this fright elevator was sturdy. He'd been on some elevators that you doubted would make it the floor you wanted, and it was miracle when you did. Reaching up he pushed just underneath this left ear. The cybernetics in his eyes coming to life. Soon every one was highlighted and there names and saber numbers were shown. It even showed life signs. He assumed these were readings from there own IFFs. He decided to leave him active, as the elevator came to life and they were soon on there way to retrieve equipment.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges Saf could feel Sgt Orion walking behind her and it made her spine itch even more than the jack ports which had been installed down her back. She didn't trust him, and even though knew that when they were out in the field he would be watching over her she needed some kind of assurance he wouldn't be saving a round for her. Hanging back from the rest of the group slightly she took her chance as they waited for the elevator to turn on her new teammate with what she hoped was a friendly smile. "We good?" She asked, her tone level and precise. She'd noticed he didn't like talking much, so she kept her question as brief as she could.</s> <\|message\|>Seth Garron Seth raised his eyebrows at 09's question of her status with 06. Hmm... Her speech style has adapted to 06's speech patterns. She's not showing any emotion. Short, clipped sentence. She must be worried that a highly trained sniper would keep a grudge against his own teammate. Highly unlikely, since in combat, this team has greater things to think about than a tiff that occurred off the battlefield. His attire assumes that he's either been off duty for an extended period of time or he is either in or has recently been in highly secretive military/federal operations. The latter is most likely, since we're called 'the best of the best'. This leads to the assumption that 06 would not be motivated to assault, let alone kill, a member of his squad purely for a spat. Especially since it has the possibility of jeopardizing an operation. Once he got on the elevator with the others, Seth shifted his eyes over to 06 for a response. Meanwhile, he takes notes and makes predictions. -Calculation: 06 will use two or less words, including a slight nod of the head. Thus, 09 will either nod in response, if she continues this personality adaptation of 06, or she will smile and thank him, if she reverts to her own personality, originally exhibited in the briefing room. -Observation: 09 seems to be trying to get on people's 'good side', at least since her spat with 06. -Note: no biases or initial connotations should be used when speaking to 09 to avoid possible misinterpretations or aggravations. Trust, and possibly inferiority, issues have been causing extreme emotional bursts. Volatility could be a weakness. Or, redirected, can be a possible distraction method against enemy units. Hm... With the last two mental sentences, Seth contemplates the thought of 09 being used as a one-(wo)man distraction battalion.</s> <\|message\|>Cyprian Sigmund "I certainly hope so, Zero-Nine. This will be a long ride." Cyprian answered Saffron's question, though it was directed at another. His tone returned to its bright and cheery attitude and stood out against hers. The elevator was one of industrial use, all eight occupants easily fit inside with plenty of room to spare. It was these kinds of lifts that would transport heavy machinery to different levels of the the structure. Cyprian selected the desired floor, and the lift lurched into motion. The lift's decent caused those inside to feel lighter in weight. In reality, the falling platform reduces the "normal force" that pushes against the people standing on it, since the object applying the force is moving away from the object that the force is being applied to. It is actually this normal force that is felt by a person standing on a surface. Therefore, the apparent gravitational force felt by those on the moving platform is reduced. Cyprian was very close to explaining all of this on the way down, were it not for the beautiful scenery that made itself visible through windows that would periodically flash past the elevator. Looking outside, Cyprian and anyone else who looked saw the starry backdrop of deep space shimmering behind beacons of light that marked the presence of satellite structures. The bright sun light peaked from around a massive body that covered almost all of the field of vision downward. Peering down, one could see white clouds swirling and streaking across vibrant blue oceans, and green masses of land. Off to the side was a grey sphere far off in the distance. Only the lower half of this sphere was illuminated. "Ahhhh... Earth truly is a magnificent sight, isn't she?" Cyprian held his head in his hands as he pressed his face against the window, a bit too eager to take in the view as the party descended closer and closer towards the planet's surface.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges As she watched the starscape slide past the viewport Saf couldn't help but be taken aback. SHe'd seen the station when she'd arrived, but the passenger shuttle had had its back to Earth and so all she'd seen were the stark metal columns and support braces holding the structure together, something she'd seen hundreds of times before during her military career. The sheer overwhelming beauty of the Earth took her breath away every time she saw it though and today was no exception. It was good to have such an obvious reminder of exactly what they were fighting for, especially before what was sure to turn out to be a very dangerous mission. Tearing her eyes away from the blue pearl for a moment Saf eyed her new CO carefully, was this a deliberate form of manipulation on his part? After all, it would've made far more sense to have had the team muster in the bay they were in transit to rather than the briefing room which had had a distinct lack of briefing.</s>	<\|message\|>Jax "Ghost Reaper" Orion Jax shockingly remained quite during the elevator trip. He heard Saf's question but honestly didn't think to dignify it with a response, His personal feelings on her wouldn't change after just a few minutes. With Saf though that answer would simply stir things up. He kept leaning against the railing as soon he looked up and out the window to see the earth outside that view port. It had been a very long time. This being closest he had been to the 3rd rock in nearly a decade. Looking at it though he felt little attachment, His family was military he spent most of his life in an orbiting station where his parents where. Looking at that rock he didn't even really know what it looks like on the surface, his only extended time there was for his training when he initially joined and again when he Went to scout sniper. Some of the others were more overwhelmed by the site as he looked back down. His eyes closed as he reached up and scratched the under side of his chin. Though he hit something and his eye site changed. Looking up mostly everything was black, except for a blue glow that emitted from things, Wires, the motor of the elevator, looking at his team some of the bigger implants had lit up. Apparently he had EMF...something that could be useful, Reaching up he clicked it again, a thermal vision, Every thing was in black and white, hotter objects glowed white as colder were darker and black, he looked around seeing his teammates, one thing he noticed is that they were hot, hotter than normal people. That is something he would keep in mind for the future. Clicking again there was a night vision, though he flinched a bit and quickly clicked it over back to his normal tactical mode. He wished there was a form of what he called 'thumper' vision. It was simple and picked up vibrations, it helped cause it showed heart beats. Though for now he wouldn't worry about it, He was sure they would have calibrations and regular maintenance and would bring it up then.</s>
<\|description\|>Jackson Indar Apologies for taking so long, here's Sabre07. Sabre07 Military Rank: Lieutenant Age: 27 Sex: Male Appearance: Personality: Jackson is a loyal and trustworthy soldier, following all commands given to him by superiors and peers. He is also intelligent and flexible, able to facilitate multiple commands and objectives at one time. He can be stubborn at times, always believing that he can save everyone. He can occasionally have a short-temper, snapping out at anything that annoys him. But if he hurts someone on his team or someone he cares for, because of his temper or not, he is quick to apologise and make up for his transgressions. He easily forgives people, but only once. Jackson is a doing person, prefering to create and execute plans then tell people how to do the plan and sit back. He also dislikes bureaucracy and logistics. Doing is more important than saying to Jackson. Biography: Born and raised on the Mars colony, Jackson was born to be in the army. He was loyal and followed orders to a T. His parents did all that they could to give him a good education and upbringing, and deed he wishes to repay. He enlisted to join the millitary the moment he was old enough and showed extreme proficiency with any firearm he wielded. His fellow soldiers all respected him and admired him. Jackson was in a great place in life. He had gotten a promotion from Officer Cadet to Lieutenant and wanted nothing other than for his effort to mean something. If he could leave a mark on this world, no matter how small, he would be happy. Higher ups in the army began observing Jackson during training exercises. Jackson couldn't remember when they first began showing up, but they would always observe Jackson during firing drills and physical exercises, scribbling notes down on their clipboards. They gave Jackson the shivers, but he payed no mind first. Obviously they would want to see how their soldiers are doing, right? But Jackson became more suspicious as time went on, always seeing them with their tablets and their clipboards. Then, at the end of a private firing drill, he was approached by a scientist and two men in suits. They simply asked him to come with them. After travelling through a maze-like facility, he was briefed on the Sabre initiative and that he had been chosen as the 7th Sabre. They told him about how he could become an ultimate soldier, selling Jackson imediately. The augmentations went without a hitch. Specializations: Skills: -Small-arms training -Advanced first-aid -Battle tactics -Three different Earth languages (French, German and Mandarin Chinese) Augmentations: Jacksons' body, skin and organs contains countless microscopic nanites who passively increase the ouput of organs and muscles and allow him several different abilities. Everything requires a certain amount of time to pass before they can be used again. These are also taxing on Jackson and cause pain when used too often. -Nanite Overshield: Jackson can use the nanites in his skin and flesh to increase small arms resistance for a short time. -Nano-Regen Device: For a short time, Jackson can use medical nanites to heal him and remove bullets imbedded in him. Also has a small radius that slowly heals teammates inside the radius (about two metres in diameter). -Nanite Fabrication: Jackson can use metalic objects to both synthesize nanites and use nanites to synthesize other objects (eg Ammo). This ability is particularly dangerous and can cause excruciating pain and even permanent defects, such as desensitization in his fingers and arms. -Nanite Respiration: Does what it says on the box, helps him breath in low oxygen environments. -Jetpack: Jacksons' suit is also equipped with a jump jet system in a pack on his back. It slowly synthesises its' own fuel if left alone for a while, but can also be manually refilled. (I don't know how balanced he is, so if you want me to change something, just say so)</s> <\|message\|>James Mathias Alexander James sighed as he stood among his fellow soldiers, he had kept quiet this entire time, considering the woman went on a childish rampage. The sniper acted unprofessional, waving his knife around and dishing out commands even though he was not the leader, people like them got someone killed. The woman already did, but the sniper had a lot of hidden records, which bothered him greatly. Men like him are never truly able to cohere with a team, this was not going to go well if they were going to keep this shit up. When he was deep in he NEEDED to bond with the team he was with, they needed to know every flaw, every skill, this made them men, and not just numbers. The guys with suits may not care for them, but they cared for each other, and that's what mattered. Even his command while he was in the Service cared, all of the big-wigs showed up to ONE man's funeral, and he was only a PFC, grant they couldn't always do it, but they did it whenever they could. To him, the Service was who he was, this sort of feeling made him adjust the leather coat he wore, it was a well-fitting leather jacket with his Battalion's symbol with the Winged Dagger of the S.A.S., on the dagger hung a gas mask. Above it read '23rd Battalion, He Who Dares Wins'. There was a reason he was picked for them, and this, he was the best at his profession, and those who matched him barely did so even before his augs. Now he was truly the best around with his kit, his augs, he was the most qualified in his eyes. At least for now, one day he would be replaced. Until that day comes however, he is gonna set one high fucking standard for whoever comes in after he does. His job was to control the fight, and even in the S.A.S with less than half the shit he had now he was one hell of a soldier, with his new drone, a Hollenhund. One lovely machine if he said so himself, a lovely amount of combat modifications gave him another soldier to fight with, this could make his life a lot easier. Running through the files of the other teammates, other than two he wanted to crack...Fucking wankers. The rest looked so much more worthwhile, and more tolerable. 6 and 9 had their skills, but they both seemed to be fatally flawed in a way that truly makes them butt heads pretty hard...This'll be fun indeed...Or so he hoped. Then his brain had a lightbulb and he spoke up rather randomly. "I apologize for not speakin' up earlier, James Mathias Alexander. A former S.A.S Scout and Unconventional Combat Specialist, I can high-jack any machine with nano-tech, or if you need someone isolated, I can get it done. I pretty much cause a shitstorm for our foes, giving us an opportunity to end an engagement early, or get the fuck outta dodge, whichever comes first. Oh! I also have a Masters in Robotics and a Bachelors in Nanotechnology, you can get that and more off my dossier. Alright, rant over." He quieted quickly and rolled his shoulders, trying to relax after that little speech. Fuck...He needed his gear, he was more comfortable in a military outfit, and in the field, not in a lift with people he didn't know worth shit.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges As she heard the Lt speak Saf quickly reached down to her wrist comp and pulled up his file, glancing over it and picking out the important details before turning her attention to the quiet 'Englishman'. Quickly running her eyes down his body Saf did a quick assessment. For a guy hitting his thirties Lt Alexander looked more like someone in their late teens. Either he'd taken really good care of himself or his family had enough money to pay for incredible thorough gene scrubbing in utero. Her money was on the former though, families who threw their money away on making sure their children were born with perfect genes tended to keep them at home rather than letting them enlist in potentially life threatening military careers. If he had come from money like that he'd more likely be the one sitting behind the monitor, beside Overwatch, than riding a freight elevator. "Special Air Service veteran? Where were you posted?" Before he had a chance to answer Saf quickly held up her hand with a smile, "Don't tell me. 'it's classified', right?"</s> <\|message\|>Jackson Indar Jackson remained silent for majority of the trip, eyes glued to the majestic scene of the Earth outside the viewport. It was awe-inspiring, and it was no surprise that it was a beacon of hope for the Conglomerate. Pulling his eyes away from the window and his mind back to reality, he began wondering about many things at once. What kind of gear are we gonna get? I know I'm a medic, but what kind of stuff will I be using? What about a gun? And what will everyone else use? Questions whizzed around Indar's head faster than he could answer them. Jackson turned his head to 05, who before that point had said nothing. "Well James, great to have you on board. As you probably know, Jackson Indar" Jackson introduced himself again, outstretching his arm to the other man for a handshake. "By god, this elevator has got to be almost there by now, right?" Jackson asked.</s> <\|message\|>Seth Garron Seth's mind began churning again with the new off-dossier info on the newly spoken tech savant. Hmm... More attempts at lowering off-duty tensions. Do these agents keep off-duty feelings while on the battlefield? Risky to do so. One would think that any feelings towards a teammate outside of combat would most logically be compartmentalized to off-duty, while during a mission, the most critical thing would be ensuring safety of as many operatives as possible. -Deductions: 05 and 09 will become closest, due to similar relationship-mending goals. 07 will be second-closest with 09. Also attempting to keep positive mannerisms with all teammates. -Note to self: check for social normality in keeping all team relationships positive. Video games have proven otherwise. Source - Alpha Protocol. Relationships built on "owing" one another in the form of favors and working together based on goals, not feelings. Internet search to follow... -Tactics: 05 would be optimal for flanking with robotics and numbers on his side. 09 would be second-best. They will most likely bond best; therefore, they could flank simultaneously, increasing flank effectiveness. Shields and robotics. Least casualties. The 'Tactics' note made Seth rethink the 'one-(wo)man distraction battalion', and now thinking of a two-man distraction armada, with 05's robots on his side.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges As the elevator finally ground to a halt the party were faced with a set of heavy cargo bay doors emblazoned with the sign A23F. Quickly stepping off the platform Saf made her way towards them, watching with a mixture of trepidation and excitement as the access hissed open in front of her. Pausing for a moment she looked back at her new CO, reminded for a moment that she still had to respect the chain-of-command, no matter how informal her commander liked to keep it. "Sir?" She asked cautiously, "Permission to proceed?"</s> <\|message\|>Scott Riley Scott answered Saf's question, "Yes. Right this way, everyone." He led everyone to the door, stepping to the side in order to access the lock. It was a standard hand print lock, displaying a silhouette of a hand as it prompted authentication aloud. Placing his hand on the lock, a blue light appeared as a bar on-screen and swept from top to bottom. The scan finished, causing the door to slide open sideways away from the lock. "Alright everyone, you'll know what to do as soon as you step inside." Entering first, Scott couldn't help but smile as he saw each of the Sabre Suits lined up along the far wall, in numerical order. Varying in size and appearence drastically, they were a glorious sight to behold indeed. Proceeding to his suit, Scott began to outfit himself. In other spots on the walls and in crates on the floor were other supplies and armament, such as pistols, assault riffles, combat knives, grenades, first-aid kits, riot shields, and even a few launchers. This was an armory designed specifically for the current Sabres, and it certainly showed.</s>	<\|message\|>Jackson Indar Indar smiled as he entered the armory. The clean, steel walls were lined with suits, armour and weaponry, ready just for them. Indar approached the suit on the wall with '07' over it in simple block numbers. Walking over, he examined the suit he'd be wearing. It was made up of two parts, a rough cloth material in a tan sort of colour and blue armour plates over the top, covering his arms, lower legs, torso and head. There was also a table in front of the suit, with his equipment laid out on it. Immediately catching his eye was an assault rifle. It had a strange magazine, almost octagonal in shape. He found it strange, but assumed that it would probably hold more ammo that way. Moving on, there was a white pistol with a revolver barrel. The barrel, instead of pushing out to one side and spinning to reload, half of the barrel would push out either way, and cartridges would be loaded that way. Strange weapons, but they look effective Indar remarked in his head. He moved on to the seven thin and long cylindrical objects next to the guns. They looked similar, but two of them were different from the other five. Five of them had three short, needle-like extrusions at the bottom and a white button at the top. The other two had a pin at the top and were slightly shorter and thicker. It took Jackson a second to realise what he was looking at. They were advanced med-kits, injected into the arm. They alleviated pain and kept people alive for longer. The other two were things he didn't even know existed. They were healing grenades, and when thrown towards allies, a burst of chemicals and nanites would rejuvenate and heal his allies. Impressed by the developers, Jackson began suiting up, the med-kits and grenades fitting nicely on one side of the belt, and his revolver on the other. There was one other thing on a small shelf underneath the table. It was a white box with a red cross on it. There was a small note on a piece of paper sitting on the box. "In case all else fails... :)" Indar read aloud as he retrieved the first-aid box. The handle of the box fit nicely on two hooks located on his lower back. Jackson smiled once more as he looked down at all the advanced Sabre gear he was wearing. "I think I'm gonna like it here" He remarked.</s>
<\|description\|>Jackson Indar Apologies for taking so long, here's Sabre07. Sabre07 Military Rank: Lieutenant Age: 27 Sex: Male Appearance: Personality: Jackson is a loyal and trustworthy soldier, following all commands given to him by superiors and peers. He is also intelligent and flexible, able to facilitate multiple commands and objectives at one time. He can be stubborn at times, always believing that he can save everyone. He can occasionally have a short-temper, snapping out at anything that annoys him. But if he hurts someone on his team or someone he cares for, because of his temper or not, he is quick to apologise and make up for his transgressions. He easily forgives people, but only once. Jackson is a doing person, prefering to create and execute plans then tell people how to do the plan and sit back. He also dislikes bureaucracy and logistics. Doing is more important than saying to Jackson. Biography: Born and raised on the Mars colony, Jackson was born to be in the army. He was loyal and followed orders to a T. His parents did all that they could to give him a good education and upbringing, and deed he wishes to repay. He enlisted to join the millitary the moment he was old enough and showed extreme proficiency with any firearm he wielded. His fellow soldiers all respected him and admired him. Jackson was in a great place in life. He had gotten a promotion from Officer Cadet to Lieutenant and wanted nothing other than for his effort to mean something. If he could leave a mark on this world, no matter how small, he would be happy. Higher ups in the army began observing Jackson during training exercises. Jackson couldn't remember when they first began showing up, but they would always observe Jackson during firing drills and physical exercises, scribbling notes down on their clipboards. They gave Jackson the shivers, but he payed no mind first. Obviously they would want to see how their soldiers are doing, right? But Jackson became more suspicious as time went on, always seeing them with their tablets and their clipboards. Then, at the end of a private firing drill, he was approached by a scientist and two men in suits. They simply asked him to come with them. After travelling through a maze-like facility, he was briefed on the Sabre initiative and that he had been chosen as the 7th Sabre. They told him about how he could become an ultimate soldier, selling Jackson imediately. The augmentations went without a hitch. Specializations: Skills: -Small-arms training -Advanced first-aid -Battle tactics -Three different Earth languages (French, German and Mandarin Chinese) Augmentations: Jacksons' body, skin and organs contains countless microscopic nanites who passively increase the ouput of organs and muscles and allow him several different abilities. Everything requires a certain amount of time to pass before they can be used again. These are also taxing on Jackson and cause pain when used too often. -Nanite Overshield: Jackson can use the nanites in his skin and flesh to increase small arms resistance for a short time. -Nano-Regen Device: For a short time, Jackson can use medical nanites to heal him and remove bullets imbedded in him. Also has a small radius that slowly heals teammates inside the radius (about two metres in diameter). -Nanite Fabrication: Jackson can use metalic objects to both synthesize nanites and use nanites to synthesize other objects (eg Ammo). This ability is particularly dangerous and can cause excruciating pain and even permanent defects, such as desensitization in his fingers and arms. -Nanite Respiration: Does what it says on the box, helps him breath in low oxygen environments. -Jetpack: Jacksons' suit is also equipped with a jump jet system in a pack on his back. It slowly synthesises its' own fuel if left alone for a while, but can also be manually refilled. (I don't know how balanced he is, so if you want me to change something, just say so)</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges As she stepped into the testing area Saf heard the scientists' voices calling in through the radio built into her suit's helmet, "All you have to do is eliminate the turrets." That seems a little too easy, Saf thought to herself, she'd been in the same position on the battlefield a dozen times or more. All she had to do was keep in cover and move around to the turret's weak rear side in order to shut it down. As she sood waiting for the test to start, expecting panels to rise out of the floor to provide simulated battlefield terrain, Saf was surprised to see six turrets rising up out instead. Okay, they did say turrets, now where's the cover? Without warning the turrets began firing, steady streams of energy pulses tracking round towards the soldier as she stood in the empty space between them. By reflex Saf pulled her arms up to protect her face, feeling the surge of energy from the implants inside her body as she did. Saf's shielding sprung to life just as the first pulse hit, splattering harmlessly against the glowing field surrounding her. Okay, well that works too, she thought to herself as she stood in the middle of the maelstrom of energy, unharmed thanks to the wonders of modern technology, but how do I take the turrets down? Remembering back to her mishap in the armoury Saf reached her hand out towards the nearest turret and concentrated, instantly causing a beam of light to project from the focusing len set into her palm. The beam stopped short of the turret, stabilising as a blade about a meter long. Not quite what I hoped for, she thought with a smile, So it's a sword, I can work with that. Pushing off with her leading foot Saf had planned to sprint towards the turret, but instead she found herself launched several feet into the air, leaping clear of the turrets' energy blasts as the automated guns pivoted to try and catch up with her swift movements. Quickly recovering herself Saf shifted her weight, spinning vertically in the air to drop herself down behind the turret she'd been heading for. Woah, cool, she thought, reaching back and effortlessly slicing the turret in half with her blade, before quickly darting to one side as the others locked in on her once more. This is going to be easy! Pushing herself as fast as she could move Saf darted towards the next turret, dodging from side to side to avoid getting hit by the energy bolts flying towards her from its emitter lenses. Projecting blades from both hands to slice the turret into pieces she jumped forwards through the mechanical remains, using them for cover to close with the third. In less than a minute the soldier stood standing in the middle of the training arena surrounded by the sparking and burning machine parts which moments before had been the turrets. Looking up at the surveillance cameras recording her performance Saf relaxed, letting her blades and shielding snap off leaving her in the middle of the darkened chamber, lit only by the burning debris. "Is that all you got?" She asked, smiling inside her helmet.</s> <\|message\|>Jax "Ghost Reaper" Orion Soon a voice came over his helmet "Ghost, Go through the door on your left, proceed down the hall then forth door on the left. We have a shooting gallery for you." Ghost nodded and walked off fallowing the directions he was provided as he was in a very long room, he could barely see the end of it as he tried to focus down on it, his eyes and suite zoomed in but even then. "Ok ghost we are going to bring up some sighting target,gather ammo from the table, lay down at the line, also each time you nod it gives a green conformation light, it will do this to your squad as well. Shake it and we get a red one." Ghost nodded as there was a table with clips for his gun, he moved and placed three of them on the ground before un-hooking the gun from his chest he laid it down to the right, easier to grab if need be. Soon pulling out his rifle he un-folded the bi-pod as he put the forth 10 round magazine into the clip he laid down resting it on that stand. Bringing the stock to his shoulder as he leaned his head looking through the sight of his scope. His interface came up giving him the range to the back of the wall, 6000meters...damn. "Ok so your weapon is standard affair, built in flash suppressor and that, oh so useful, sound suppressor...cause those work so well on silencing the thunder from the .50 caliber round. Good news the recoiling barrel works" This guy was a bit of a sarcastic asshole, he kind of liked him. Looking down soon a target came up in front of him, the range read out displayed 500 meters. "Ok now, hold your breath like normal, but don't stop. Your skin now can breath and provide oxygen to your heart mixing with your blood, it's safer that way as well since you can filter out toxins" Ghost paused a moment before nodding his head. He looked down his scope as he reached forward pulling the bolt of his rifle back before pushing it forward placing a round into the chamber. His finger ran along the top of the trigger guard before he brought it down, placing it over the trigger he held his breath. His scope steady he squeezed down on the trigger. There was a "silent" bang echoing through hall, though his helmet dampened the sound, his hand came up pulling the bolt back as the round was ejected and another chambered as he slid it back forward. Three the degrees, down, four to the right. After making his adjustments he pulled the trigger as it was dead on. He saved the settings before the target went down and the next one opened up at a 1000 meters, rinse repeat. He did this again for 1500, 2000, 3000 and then 5000. To think that back in the day shots like this would be deemed impossible, joys of modern tech. "Ok, so at this moment we don't just needed the gun calibrated, most of the testing we were able to do before you all got here, now we just need to test maneuverability." Ghost nodded again as he stood up, placing the the rifle back around as he then pickd up that rifle and placed the Magazines on pockets in his chest. walking back over he loaded up with three mags for his assault rife, and three for his pistol . These went into pouches on his hip. "Ok proceed to the door across the hall." Nodding he walked across the hall to the next room. Obstetrical course with targets, line at the floor as he moved up to it. Slipping a mag into his Rifle he smacked the bottom locking it in place as he looked forward through that Acog scope "Ok simple battle simulation...Have fun" Soon a red dot appeared and he flipped the rifle into single shot on his Hud before it turned green and he moved. Soon holographic targets came up, with out hesitation he rose his rifle and and squeezed off a round as the hologram went down. Shots fired at him as he moved sliding into cover. His tac display had fired, up, showing directions of the sound as he looked over, looking it marked were the sound was coming from. Popping out of cover he squeezed off a round taking them down. He moved cover to cover, sliding over obstetrical and squeezing off rounds as he moved quickly. They were intensifying the training, it started out as just a few guys at a time, now it was a god damn army, Sarcastic asshole. Dropping a mag he brought a new one into his gun before pulling back the slide to chamber the first round before moving out. He dropped his gun and pulled his pistol out as he entered a room, three shots and he moved in. He moved with efficiency as soon the hologram died down. "Ok good to go, everything held up fine. Have to say these are some of the best scores I've seen in awhile, Nearly every shot to the heart or other vitals. Good job, you can rejoin your group of marry men" Sarcastic Asshole. Ghost moved rejoining his team back in the man room and looked around before finding a crate and sitting on it. Waiting for the rest of the team to finish, though he wondered where you could go to get a good drink.</s>	<\|message\|>Jackson Indar Jackson was excited to test his new equipment. He had seen some of the other walk off to test area to try out their suits and equipment. "Ok Jackson, we're ready to test now" A voice said through a helmet mounted microphone. Jackson walked out of the armoury and towards the designated testing area, ready for what they would throw at him. Needless to say, he was disappointed at the small room with a small pile of assorted scrap objects. "What the f...." Jackson began, but the helmet mic cut him off. "Ahem, Jackson Indar, are you ready to commence training?" The feminine voice asked. "Uh, I guess" Jackson said as he retrieved his assault rifle. "Ah, there's no need for that Indar. We know you can shoot a gun. But do take your sidearm and reload it please, just to show you understand it" Jackson obeyed and put his assault rifle back on his back, and instead took the revolver off of his leg. There were two buttons, one on either side. Jackson pressed one of the buttons and half of the barrel pushed out, revealing three chambers for cartridges. Loading them up, he did the same for the other side. "Good. Now I'd like you to use a medikit on yourself. Simply pla-" The pretentious voice began again, and Indar simple rolled his eyes and obeyed. "Yeah, yeah, I know what I'm doing" Jackson said dryly. He placed the tube against his upper arm and pressed the button on top. He felt a small prick as the microscopic needles punctured both skin and clothing, filling him with medical nanites. "Ahem, well then. For your information, medikits can also be used on others, and even through heavy armour. Now they are typically one use only, so used them wisely. But, if necessary, you, and only you, can refill them with your nanites. There will be a replacement waiting for you outside the door. Now, as you probably know, you can change scrap metals into more useful objects. Try making some of your revolver cartridges with the scrap over there. Three will do" The pretentious woman continued. Jackson sighed and approached the scrap, picking up a piece of metal. With a small bit of effort, the metal scrap turned into a battle ready cartridge. "Good job. I'm sure you've been informed of your other abilities. Underwater breathing, healing nanites. You're ready to fight Jackson" The voice finally stopped and Indar was free to leave the room. He picked up the replacement medkit and navigated back to the armoury where he came from.</s>
<\|description\|>SABRE TEAM S02 - Scott Riley (MercuryHg34) [Sabre Squad Leader / Jack-of-all-Trades] S03 - Rory Phayne (Rhymer) [Heavy Weapons / Assault Combat] S04 - Seth Garron (Dragonite777) [Stealth / Reconnaissance] S05 - James Alexander (Shadowman215) [Decoy / Scout] S06 - Jax Orion (GhostReaper) [Precision Combat / Survival] S07 - Jackson Indar (nk1506) [Medic / Tactician] S08 - Cyprian Sigmund (Light) [Information / Technology] S09 - Saffron Bridges (SimplyJhon) [Tank / CQC]</s> <\|message\|>Jackson Indar Jackson was excited to test his new equipment. He had seen some of the other walk off to test area to try out their suits and equipment. "Ok Jackson, we're ready to test now" A voice said through a helmet mounted microphone. Jackson walked out of the armoury and towards the designated testing area, ready for what they would throw at him. Needless to say, he was disappointed at the small room with a small pile of assorted scrap objects. "What the f...." Jackson began, but the helmet mic cut him off. "Ahem, Jackson Indar, are you ready to commence training?" The feminine voice asked. "Uh, I guess" Jackson said as he retrieved his assault rifle. "Ah, there's no need for that Indar. We know you can shoot a gun. But do take your sidearm and reload it please, just to show you understand it" Jackson obeyed and put his assault rifle back on his back, and instead took the revolver off of his leg. There were two buttons, one on either side. Jackson pressed one of the buttons and half of the barrel pushed out, revealing three chambers for cartridges. Loading them up, he did the same for the other side. "Good. Now I'd like you to use a medikit on yourself. Simply pla-" The pretentious voice began again, and Indar simple rolled his eyes and obeyed. "Yeah, yeah, I know what I'm doing" Jackson said dryly. He placed the tube against his upper arm and pressed the button on top. He felt a small prick as the microscopic needles punctured both skin and clothing, filling him with medical nanites. "Ahem, well then. For your information, medikits can also be used on others, and even through heavy armour. Now they are typically one use only, so used them wisely. But, if necessary, you, and only you, can refill them with your nanites. There will be a replacement waiting for you outside the door. Now, as you probably know, you can change scrap metals into more useful objects. Try making some of your revolver cartridges with the scrap over there. Three will do" The pretentious woman continued. Jackson sighed and approached the scrap, picking up a piece of metal. With a small bit of effort, the metal scrap turned into a battle ready cartridge. "Good job. I'm sure you've been informed of your other abilities. Underwater breathing, healing nanites. You're ready to fight Jackson" The voice finally stopped and Indar was free to leave the room. He picked up the replacement medkit and navigated back to the armoury where he came from.</s> <\|message\|>James Mathias Alexander James sighed as the others proceeded through their respective training courses, then the female voice popped in his earpiece that linked to his optic. "Alright James, you're up." He nodded quietly and stood up, proceeding to his respective training area. First off there was your basic firing range, simple enough, he strode to a booth and slapped a mag into his SMG, grasping the foregrip and pressing the stock into his shoulder. "The SMG is calibrated already, just need to get data on you." After that, targets began popping up, each one taken down with tight focused bursts. Some targets moved slightly, some dived for cover. Each one got picked off quick, and soon the range was empty, his clip included. "Grab your shotgun, that needs to be tested." He nodded and strode back to the door, then turned toward the next range, only to see a holo jump out at him. Quick as a wink he flicked his shotgun up and squeezed the trigger, blasting the target with buckshot, though when it hit the wall, it burned through the metal. "Thermite ammo...Nice." He said quietly, the voice popped up again, with a cockier tone. "Like my trick?" He shook his head and sighed, this one thought they were witty? "Not really, pretty boring." He smiled in his rebuttal, waiting for her to be offended, but she didn't. Instead she ushered him to a room with drones and stationary targets. "Take a charge and jack one of the drone turrets here, then order it to take out a target, then make it destroy itself." He nodded and slapped a charge on the closest turret, stepping back as he remotely detonated it, and watched as nanites seep into the machinery, slowly taking it over as the info of the turret popped into his HUD. "Freaky shit.." He thought aloud as he watched the final processes be under his command. "Alright, lets do this shit." He ordered it to destroy the targets, which it did, but when it shot the turret. The turret registered as friendly after the first shot, the nanites had coated the ammo and now act as a virus, infecting the machine it attacks. "Impressed?" the female voice asked, rather proud of herself. He nodded and chuckled "Color me impressed miss, that's fucking amazing. Even in college this shit was just a theory." She replied smoothly with a curt "Yes, but now we need to see how it works on moving units, don't worry, nothing will try and kill you." In his thoughts were the words: 'That is reassuring..' he sighed and proceeded forward as he saw a large tank-like drone (envision one of the drones from Black Ops 2). "Just place a charge." He did so, placed a charge, detonated it, soon he had control of this as well. He then ordered it to move, he had to sigh of boredom. Primarily since he was used to thick jungles and every day being a risk. "Soon you'll be in-field 05, just be patient, now command the drone to move and shoot." Using the interface he had in his optic, he did so. Though the machine didn't fire, instead in informed him it lacked ammo. The voice came up again. "Alright, thats good on interface testing, your personal drone is in the next room, use your retinal interface to take over the drone and see the room." She lied, he was watching the armory, everyone registered as friendlies on the drones FFID software. Then he heard the sound of holo footsteps, and immediately hid behind his larger drone. "Use one of your Seeker Mines to handle these holograms." He nodded and rolled it towards the noise, only hearing the thump of it launching, and the miniature explosions from its cluster bombs hitting the ground. "Alright James, you're good. All data calibrated." He nodded and returned to his allies, impressed with what was available, and how quick his interface went on and off.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges Walking back down to her locker after finishing her training session Saf almost bumped into Sgt. Garron. "Whoa, sorry I didn't..." She started to say, holding her hand up by way of apology. Immediately her suit took over, projecting a shield wall forwards and pinning Seth back against the rack of guns behind him. For a moment Saf didn't know what was happening, before recognising the golden yellow glow which surrounded her own suit being created in front of her. Gentle lowering her hand she watched the wall fade into nonexistence before bending down towards where Seth lay crumpled on the floor, "Sorry about that too... I guess these suits will take a little getting used to." She said with as friendly a tone as she could, holding her hand out and offering to help her teammate back up onto his feet.</s> <\|message\|>Seth Garron Seth didn't notice 09 walk by, but was going to wave off her apology. He wasn't able to due to the wall of energy her outstretched hand created, which, due to the force of its creation, pinned Seth against the weapons rack with his feet an inch or two off the ground. Once the female teammate realized it was her suit that had created the hard place that pinned Seth between it and the rock that was the weapons rack, she made it disappear with a releasing gesture. Once gone, Seth fell to the ground, catching himself on one foot and one knee. He was still getting used to the lack of nerve endings on his feet bottoms, or he would have stayed up on his feet. Interesting, gesture-based restricted energy fields. Useful for defensive and offensive tactics. Exponentially so for defensive, yet innovative uses may create more offensive possibilities. Note made. 09 seems to offer help and friendliness, which may just due to the fact that I haven't said anything towards her, forcing paranoia of possible negative feelings. Previously noted to keep her in a positive mood while outside combat to avoid possible battlefield quarrels; therefore, accepting her help and reciprocating positive attitude towards her would be most beneficial to avoiding possible future volatility. After deliberating and rationalizing, while feigning impact shock, Seth clasped his hand on the woman's forearm and used his own strength to get up, releasing once he regained balance. "Agreed." Nodding with a slight, forced smile, Seth checked his person to make sure nothing fell out, namely his boot-knife. That's all he saw as necessary to reply to 09's talk of the calibration of the self-to-suit integration. Small talk didn't interest him, but analysing the rest of the team's post-calibration conditions would seem to be priority, as there would be hurdles to overcome with having suits that acted as though they were exoskeletons for each person, enhancing their natural abilities further than the augmentations done on them have. Remembering the pores on his neck and the fact that they'd put a gauze pad over them post-operation, Seth lowered his suit's neck line to take off the gauze and test out his new breathing abilities. After sliding the neck line up, he was able to breathe without inhaling from his nose or mouth. After a few moments of consciously switching breathing patterns around, he was able to balance the pore-breathing and nostril breathing, causing almost no noticeable breathing noise from him. Almost completely silent when standing still and moving, with his feet made to make as close to no noise as possible.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges After helping Sgt. Garron to his feet Saf was a little unnerved by his unnatural smile and quickly turned her gaze away glancing down the row of lockers at the other Sabers before turning back to the strong silent one in front of her, "So, what toys did they give you?" She asked as Sgt. Garron picked at something on his neck. As she waited for a response something seemed... wrong with the former sergeant, and for a moment Saf couldn't quite place her finger on what it was, but suddenly it dawned on her. "Hey, are you alright?" She asked, her voice worried as she reached forwards and took hold of Sgt. Garron's arm, "Did you stop breathing or something?"</s> <\|message\|>Seth Garron Seth cocked an eyebrow and pulled his arm from 09's grasp. "Breathing pores: allows near-silent breathing." Deciding that it's courteous to continue to answer her question, Seth adds, "synthetic foot pads: silent steps when barefoot. Seventy-percent nightvision mode. Chameleon camo function in suit. ... Yours?" Getting through everything with minimal wording, Seth figures it's customary in conversation to ask the other about a subject with which each can describe, list, or otherwise talk about. This is the most interaction Seth has had with a live female since before his right brain shut down. Interesting. Compassionate towards teammates, even though volatile. Not afraid to cause pain nor relieve it. Very interesting dynamic. Or simply trying to gain favor after the events in the briefing room. Should keep an eye on emotional levels throughout the training mission. Find high and low points and their causes. Seth nods at 09 before turning and joining the others who have finished their self-suit integration calibration.</s> <\|message\|>Saffron Bridges Lifting her arms Saf activated her shielding and her blades, giving Sgt. Garron the full light show. "Protective shields and what I think are variable-yield emitters in the gauntlets. I'm still getting a hang on those." As she explained the Warrant Officer tried imagining different sized blades and to her delight the long sharp beams shortened and widened, changing from what she thought of as lances to machetes and finally to shovels. When she tried to pull them back further a gauge suddenly appeared on her HUD and the gauntlets whined for a moment before sending a wave of force up into the ceiling, leaving a noticeable dent in the armoured plating there. "Okay, and they can be overcharged to act as some sort of recharging ranged attack." She said, watching as the gauge slowly began to shrink. Saf tried to activate her blades again but the emitters just glowed weakly for a moment before cutting out. "Gotta be careful with that though, seems it breaks the blade emitters at least for a short while, there's a gauge here that seems to be indicating the recovery time." Saf tapped at her faceplate to indicate to Sgt. Garron what she was talking about, as she knew the HUD was probably an internal projection not visible to others. "There's also some sort of rainbow strength gauge over here," She continued, moving her hand to the other side of her helmet, "Which I think is something to do with the shielding. It flickered slightly while under constant attack by six training turrets, but I've no idea how much of an indication of actual shield strength." Turning to look over Sgt. Garron's shoulder Saf called down the room to the Sabre standing at the locker beside hers. "Hey, Dr. Sigmund? You said earlier you were involved with the creation of these... systems," She said, waving her hand down the front of the top-of-the-line, form-fitting, technological marvel of a cybersuit, "I was just wondering what the maximum protective power the shielding on my suit could withstand? In terms a soldier could understand, if you can."</s>	<\|message\|>SABRE TEAM "Well, the short answer is 'a lot.' More so than the rest of us, actually." The doctor responded from the front of the testing course. He, alongside Scott, were already used to the suits. His voice echoed through the helms of all the Sabres as he spoke through radio. "Each suit was designed to compliment your strengths while covering your weaknesses. The capabilities of offense, defense, mobility and utility appropriately vary among all of us to begin with, and so too should any equipment you use."</s>
<\|description\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name Party Roster Hundred Kira - @Tenish the Mighty - Docking Bay Control Room - Active Sevyn Spades - @TTwoThumbsUp - Docking Bay Control Room - Inactive Marga - @Bonjour xx - Docking Bay Control Room - Active Farvis Kren - @TheUnknowable - Docking Bay Access Corridor - Inactive Mez - @Kalas - Docking Bay Access Corridor - Inactive Simon Brewer - @DJAtomika - Docking Bay Control Room - Active James "JR" Rourke - @TheMadAsshatter - Retired Red hatched areas are currently exposed to space and inaccessible for characters not in full EVA gear. Character Sheet Race: Species or sub-species. No defined limits here so feel free to pick any species appearing in popular culture or just make up your own. If your race has any special inherent abilities please be sure to list them below. Appearance: A basic description of the character's overall appearance and common attire, or a photo reference if possible. Personality: Simple psychological profile for your character, giving details of their main motivations and outlook on life. Skills: An outline of the training and abilities of the character. These come in five levels of proficiency: Amateur, Proficient, Experienced, Skilled, Expert. I'd recommend limiting the character to a maximum of five skills with two class or profession skills, two general skills and one combat skill. For example a Mechanic might have Expert Engineering and Expert Mechanics as class skills, Skilled Driver and Experienced Salesman as general skills and Proficient Brawler as a combat skill. Non-standard Abilities: This section is for unique abilities for the character's species, as well as any personal abilities they may have. I'd recommend an absolute maximum of three of these, but would counsel for only one or two in most cases. Equipment: Here you should give details of the main pieces of equipment the character usually carries with them when going on a high-risk mission. I'd recommend taking one or two weapons, at least one piece of class or profession-specific equipment, a set of armour or protective clothing, some form of communications gear and any utility or survival gear you feel would be appropriate. Bio: A brief (two or three paragraph) history of the character detailing where they're from, their current life circumstances and their reason for being included on the mission. Quote: An example of something the character is likely to say, giving an insight into their personality and general life attitude.</s> <\|message\|>Hundred Kira Many neuro-plastic printings were coded into every Gygan before completion. Vocational training and data. Standard overview of Consortium internal policies and procedures. A familial, slavish loyalty to the Consortium. And a xenophobic disdain for other client species. Some might be surprised that for the culture of the Consortium, an entity ostensibly devoted to free enterprise, money and trade were seen as an unclean if necessary business. Internally, the Consortium had no sense of private enterprise. For the Gygans, all labor and the products thereof were to be utilized solely for the betterment of the Consortium as a whole, guided and directed by the unseen master's of Gyges. From the Gygan perspective, trade with outside civilizations was an act of charity and vulgar communication between the Consortium and cultures to ignorant to see their perfect system. Aliens were to be pitied, looked down upon, and be carefully directed through Gyges' ubiquitous, economic influence. Hundred was not a typical Gygan, she had divorced herself from the Consortium and all that it represented. She had learned to be skeptical of her internal programming with a violent intensity that bordered upon blind hate. Hundred sneered to herself at the barbarians around her. Not all of her programming had been proven wrong by experience. Perhaps they would prove themselves useful, non-Consortium powers were not without perspicacity. Her would-be comrades must have been chosen for some reasons and with some logic, flawed though it may be. Their problem solving skills, however, did not seem to be one of those reasons. She looked over at the one fiddling with his quaint firearm as he voiced his impatience. Well he wasn't wrong. Hundred stood from her seat at the far end of the shuttles seating. The Dust shifted and reoriented itself in the air, a golden shimmer from countless phasic transference events signifying their activity. Hundred's fluttered near her face, millions of programmable particulate rushed around her head, compacting, coalescing, constructing into the sealed helmet of her suit. She walked over to the airlock, more particulate filtering into the activation circuit, cycling the internal aperture into an open position. Stepping inside the Dust flooded in after her from the cabin, one final wisp remaining to cycle the hatch shut behind them. Hundred sniffed in the closed, quiet confines of her freshly constructed helmet, activating her suits comm. Clear, curt, and dripping with disdain, Hundred's husky voice materialized from the shuttle cockpit's speakers. "Open the airlock, pilot. I will get us inside."</s> <\|message\|>Sevyn Spades The excitement was almost palpable for a certain Syndari heading toward a certain famed, lost, recently relocated, and positively massive ship who was practically jumping up and down in her seat, the drone in her lap protesting profusely in angry whirrs and chirps with the precise translation appearing on her HUD. That, or the nitrogen oxidizers in her mask were malfunctioning and she was currently having a seizure. Either way, nothing went against the fact that Sevyn was indeed traveling toward the infamous Lone Star, lost only a decade earlier than today. Stories of its disappearance were as varied and countless as the stars, the possible secrets and treasures it held even more so. There were many schematics available for the ship, booming especially in popularity in the first few solar years that it disappeared with almost all of them naturally fake. The true schematics for the one-of-a-kind ship was a jealously guarded secret of its creators, rumored to be hidden in the ship itself with all the workers that had worked on its construction being silently killed off (or at least that was how the most popular theory went). Either way, Sevyn knew this was once-in-a-lifetime chance and would not spend it by concerning herself with the specifics like who her teammates were or what was she actually sent to do on the ship. All she needed to know was that they were there, and they would help her discover all there was to learn about the ship. Of course there was the snag of how she was supposed to actually get inside the vessel, which proved to be quite the conundrum with the lack of power in the ship and the presumably extended nature of the mission. While all her teammates provided all semi-worthwhile suggestions of how to get inside, she was already getting her Ardie ready to provide a quick surface scan on the ship, but then the pilot beat her to it when he pointed out a nearby airlock that the team of ragtag misfits could enter through. Assuming that the ship used standard sizes for all its doors, the shuttle could theoretically dock with the ship. The only problem was that the docking tube for variety of shuttle that they were riding in was extremely, designed only to be used to dock with another shuttle or lifepod, which meant that correctly aligning the tube would require the skills of utmost top pilots - skills which Sevyn most certainly possessed, but perhaps not which their current pilot did if her prior experience working with United Alliance Navy single-craft pilots were anything to go by. Otherwise, assuming the ship worked with standard airlocks, there would be a manual latch both inside and outside that the party could open without needing any power from the ship and from there, possibly the greatest moment up until now for the Syndari. "Listen flyboy," she said, the flanging in her voice reverberating around the passenger bay, "if you think you can dock us with the airlock, aces! But if not, why not let me take the shuttle for a spin. You do know who I am right? Sevyn Spades? Kind of a big deal in the Syndarin systems? We'll be in and out before you know it."</s> <\|message\|>Mez Fire. It was all he could see whenever he closed his eyes. Brilliant, raging flames burning throughout the universe, spreading from one planet to the next. Engulfing each world and every life-form that inhabited them, leaving nothing but cinders and smoke in their wake. It had been a recurring vision for just over a year now. At first, Mez had thought it was just a nightmare, something to keep him awake at night. But as time went on, as he began to force himself to see more of the vision, he soon realized that it was a warning of events that would eventually come to pass. He hadn't needed any help or spiritual guidance to interpret what the fire represented or, rather, who it represented. The Visipian Government were still searching for him, which had only served to increase their rate of expansion. He knew it wouldn't be long now. Here, on the other side of the galaxy, the Visipians would arrive and war would be thrust upon all of them. Mez opened his eyes only to be greeted to the same, cramped transport shuttle as the one he'd first set foot on three hours prior. The only difference being the small buzz of activity that had arisen now that they'd nearly reached their objective; The Lone Star. A mysteriously abandoned ship that had randomly arrived in system, seemingly of its own accord. Mez had never believed in ghost stories, however, which is why he was fiddling with his combat blade. The tip of it precariously placed in the middle of his palm whilst he nonchalantly spun it at the handle. If the ship had arrived in system, it was because someone had meant for it to. And the only way for that to occur would be to have someone on board to pilot it. So whether the rest of them believed it was empty or not, it didn't matter. He would be ready to take down whatever it was that wanted them on that ship. He scoured the shuttle for the hundredth time. Some of the others had stood up to speak with the pilot; Felix. They were trying to figure out a way to get onto the spacecraft without the need for anyone to actually go out into space. Moves like that were risky even at the best of times. He would be fine though, his cybernetics included an internal re-breather and a transparent, organic ooze-like substance that would cover his being to make him airtight. It wasn't the most comfortable of experiences but he'd be fine to float about in space for as long as he needed. Some of the others, however, didn't have this luxury. But nevertheless, he figured that one of them would eventually come up with a plan and all he'd need to do was sit back and relax. Something as trivial as boarding a ship wasn't a concern for him. Not considering his exemplary success during his time spent in the V.I.R.U.S. Squads. Upon looking around the ship, he finally laid his eyes on the one person he'd been avoiding contact with for the entire journey. An old partner, a female by the name of Marga. A fellow merc and one of the most renowned thieves this side of the galaxy. The first thing he noted were the handcuffs. Not the standard issue ones that were normally used by the Navy. She'd gotten herself into some trouble, which wasn't exactly a surprise. From the time he'd known her, trouble had been all she'd ever cavorted with. But he knew that wasn't true the moment he thought of it. His gaze followed the length of her arms before reaching her upper body, which remained scarcely adorned in the usual attire she wore. It was tighter than usual, more form-fitting. The shapes and curves of her slender figure could be made out more easily. He could feel his skin tingle ever so slightly as his temperature rose by a degree. Her lithe but powerful legs had commanded his attention now. He remembered their strength as well as the nigh-impossible angles in which they could stretch, a feat that had almost baffled him at first. Images began to show themselves within his mind. Memories of her, memories of them, together. He could still remember her warm breath against him, the soft touch of her nimble fingers and the brush of her hair as the two of them lay together, entwined and entangled. The pair of them writhing about in a strange dance of lust and emotion. He remembered how warm her skin was every time he placed his lips upon her. A wave of warmth flushed over him. But as quick as it came, the feeling was gone. 'Her skin...' His grasp on the handle of his blade tightened, whitening his knuckles. A darkened glare now plagued his face. He remembered how, for the briefest of moments, her skin had changed colour. To a light shade of blue, accompanied by strange patterns. At first, Mez thought he'd imagined it but as her screams of passion grew louder, her skin became more prominent. More Thuboisii. His train of thought was interrupted by a sudden spike of pain. The tip of his blade had begun piercing his palm. Crimson liquid oozed from the wound after he removed the weapon. But he knew by now that his enhanced cells would already be hard at work. A singular drop of blood hit the metallic grating beneath his feet but by the time he looked back up to inspect the injury, it had been healed. When he glanced back in Marga's direction, his anger had dissipated too. Now, he only looked at her with a smirk. Stowing away his combat knife, he leaned back into his seat. "Are they supposed to be some kind of a fashion statement?" He called out, directing his question towards his former partner.</s>	<\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name As Felix gently guided the shuttle as close as he could to the spinning, twirling hulk of the abandoned dreadnought he heard the search party beginning to move around in the compartment behind him. Finally they seemed to be getting their acts together and one of them was even stepping up to the airlock, their armour shifting and hardening around them as they prepared for a space walk. "It's your funeral, happy landings." Felix responded with a grin, reaching out to activate the control and triggering the system. It would take a minute to flush the air from the small chamber, but soon the outer door would be ready to open for his guest. "No can do." Felix replied with a smile, "This is a military vessel, not some pleasure cruiser, as you've no doubt gathered from our lack of hot tub and bar facilities. Only authorised personnel are permitted to pilot her. And I've never been to Syndarin, or your colonies, and the only Spades I work with are the little black ones that win me hands." With that Felix slapped his hand down on the console, cutting the 'com as he focused his attention on aligning the shuttle to the larger ship, getting them as close as he safely could to give the Gygan the best possible chance of success.</s>
<\|description\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name Party Roster Hundred Kira - @Tenish the Mighty - Docking Bay Control Room - Active Sevyn Spades - @TTwoThumbsUp - Docking Bay Control Room - Inactive Marga - @Bonjour xx - Docking Bay Control Room - Active Farvis Kren - @TheUnknowable - Docking Bay Access Corridor - Inactive Mez - @Kalas - Docking Bay Access Corridor - Inactive Simon Brewer - @DJAtomika - Docking Bay Control Room - Active James "JR" Rourke - @TheMadAsshatter - Retired Red hatched areas are currently exposed to space and inaccessible for characters not in full EVA gear. Character Sheet Race: Species or sub-species. No defined limits here so feel free to pick any species appearing in popular culture or just make up your own. If your race has any special inherent abilities please be sure to list them below. Appearance: A basic description of the character's overall appearance and common attire, or a photo reference if possible. Personality: Simple psychological profile for your character, giving details of their main motivations and outlook on life. Skills: An outline of the training and abilities of the character. These come in five levels of proficiency: Amateur, Proficient, Experienced, Skilled, Expert. I'd recommend limiting the character to a maximum of five skills with two class or profession skills, two general skills and one combat skill. For example a Mechanic might have Expert Engineering and Expert Mechanics as class skills, Skilled Driver and Experienced Salesman as general skills and Proficient Brawler as a combat skill. Non-standard Abilities: This section is for unique abilities for the character's species, as well as any personal abilities they may have. I'd recommend an absolute maximum of three of these, but would counsel for only one or two in most cases. Equipment: Here you should give details of the main pieces of equipment the character usually carries with them when going on a high-risk mission. I'd recommend taking one or two weapons, at least one piece of class or profession-specific equipment, a set of armour or protective clothing, some form of communications gear and any utility or survival gear you feel would be appropriate. Bio: A brief (two or three paragraph) history of the character detailing where they're from, their current life circumstances and their reason for being included on the mission. Quote: An example of something the character is likely to say, giving an insight into their personality and general life attitude.</s> <\|message\|>Mez "There's a lever inside the airlock, on the upper left side of the outer hatch. Yank it down and the umbilical will deploy. You can fine tune it using the monitor just below the lever and the controls beside it. Won't be needing a perfect lock, just one good enough to hold pressure until you get the party aboard." @SimplyJohn "Perfect." Mez replied. He moved to spring into action but the droids' change of movement caught his eye. "Looks like time's about to run out." He stated before moving back into rear bay. Quickly scouring the ship, his eyes fell on a equipment locker towards the end of the bay. He'd need a comm-link headset to be able to communicate with the Gygan outside. Mez crossed the bay in less that five strides and wrenched open the locker door. The following smirk on his face meant he'd found what he was looking for; a powerful shortwave comm-link headset. All he needed now was to cannibalize it for the transmitter and insert it into one of the many sub-ports of his Direct Neural Interface. He could use his body to amplify the transmission range and communicate with Hundred. Before he'd finished thinking of what he wanted to do, Mez was already walking towards the airlock, the transmitter was now sending out radio waves at 200% more power which allowed the waves to be able to cut through space. "Hundred, do you copy? Come in, Hundred. I am going to release the shuttle's umbilical early using the manual override. I need you to ensure a positive lock on with the Lone Star, nothing perfect but enough to pressurize the walkway. We have less than 5 minutes ETA on an asteroid shower which'll mean mission failure if we don't do this now." Mez punched the control panel of the airlock, pressurizing the small room. It took a few seconds but far longer than it needed. Once he was inside, he followed the Pilot's direction. True to his word, the lever was there. Mez pulled it which activated a series of loud clunks and a hissing sound. 'The umbilical must be moving.' He quickly turned his gaze to the monitor and keyed in a few simple commands via the control pad. Like everything else on board the shuttle, the computer systems proved rudimentary. So Mez only had to alter a few sub-routines in order to exact the optimum speed efficiency for the extending walkway.</s> <\|message\|>Hundred Kira Hundred's frown had never left. It certainly didn't change when the ships macrobot accompaniment swarmed out of the arresting airlock. With a thought she impelled the Dust further into the airlocks mechanisms. Ah. There was the problem. She should have checked first. Her comm crackled. She snarled at the pilots castigation. He was right to berate her. She had not performed as she had tacitly implied. Hundred took a moment in the flurry of activity around her person. She examined the Star bots' movement patterns. They may have been upkeep drones, trapped in a process loop, unable to perform their scheduled maintenance due to the faulty door mechanism. No, not faulty, sabotaged. The bots surrounded her, the emitters on their cutting lasers adjusting. Her frown deepened even further. Hostile then. She was more interested in the one maneuvering over to her micro-channel. They had the wherewithal to target her Dust. Curious. Her comm was filled with the beam of another of her mission mates. The Visipian. Hundred did not like the Visipians. The Consortium did not like them either, but she didn't see that as much of a point in their favor. They were dogmatic, fascistic, too much like the Consortium for comfort. But their methods were barbarous. Conquest. War. Wasteful. But most damning of all, they possessed technologies that Gyges had yet to replicate. Divine Energy. A superstitious designation. A weak grip upon the fire whose secrets they alone had discovered. But he had given her a gift. A goal. Redemption. Five minutes. "It will be done in one." Hundred raised her arms, fingers flickering tactile commands. Dust around her compacted and formed, layer upon layer of tightly packed Fullerenes wrapped around each other, growing, hardening, sharpening. From Dust to dagger, little black spikes of graphene, bristling around her in a satellite sphere. She looked around herself at the busy little bots. So large, so few, so primitive. Her hand waved dismissively. Her teeth bared. It was almost a smile. Punching into the closest hostile robots, the spikes split upon intentional faults, fragmenting into flechettes, shredding the interiors of the bots trying to unseat her footing. Striding forwards a second wave of spikes formed to deal with the rest of the offensive constructs. She flexed her right hand, just above her open palm another longer, leaner blade began to form the constructing edge of it's black blade radiating a sharp golden glow. She stepped over the half-melted lip of the plating she was standing on, moving back towards the airlock. Her other hand waved dismissively again, the second set of spikes shot forth to enforce her lethal contempt for the machines that had lost her face. It would be done in the next 47 seconds. She was keeping count.</s> <\|message\|>Sevyn Spades The moment the tiny little bots began firing their lasers, Sevyn fired into the swarm, jumping from target to target. She felt the shuttle beneath her inching every slowly forward as it clumsily tried to align itself with the open airlock. She considered the idea of throwing one of her EMP grenades into the two meter hole, a relatively easy target, but deemed it too risky once the shuttle started extending its umbilical tube. Once the tube started moving, Sevyn moved herself to its lip, still firing at the droids as the silent thump, thump, thump of her magnetic boots causing a dull reverb throughout the umbilical. Meanwhile Jemini tried to make herself useful by calculating the trajectory of the tube and sending the necessary minor adjustments needed to align it with the Lone Star to the shuttle pilot while she took shots at the stationary droids. She chirped and whirred angrily, even beeping once to express her extreme displeasure at having to work with the current shuttle pilot, though the droid couldn't place a value on either Sevyn's or the less-than-adequate shuttle pilot's maneuvering, seeing as how both were equally annoying. Sevyn was edging out on top though, considering she was standing at the lip of tube, ready to snap herself into the tube right before it would attach to the Lone Star instead of staying outside of taking care of all the bots all because of her stupid desire to be the first inside the derelict dreadnought. But then again, why else would she have teamed up with a bunch of ruffians if the rest couldn't handle themselves in a little scrap.</s> <\|message\|>James "JR" Rourke JR was no less anxious to get on the Star, but the rate at which people seemed to be stepping out was both impressive and astonishing. Aside from the Gygan, it didn't really make much sense for anyone to be going for the ship without having been docked, but at least it made for some entertainment. At least until it seemed as though things were... well, going. He definitely began to get an apprehensive feeling about boarding the ship, though it made him all the more anxious to get onboard and find out why. There was definitely something about that ship. He stood himself up at the mention of them docking with the dreadnought, knowing that it wouldn't take much longer now. He was more than ready to board, though he couldn't help but be distracted by two of his apparent crewmates' bickering. The two of them were either going at each others throats, or organizing their next romantic getaway, or both. It was definitely hard to tell, and he was sure plenty of sarcasm was flying through the shuttle. He couldn't help but chuckle at some of their remarks. The window through the airlock showed their point of entry, a few hundred meters away at this point. The movements of the shuttle were jarring at points, but JR bore through it. It definitely wouldn't be the first time. "Well then, who's ready to party?" he asked, eyes still fixed on the Lone Star's airlock.</s> <\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name "Watch out, we're incoming!" Felix screamed into the radio as the shuttle drew closer to the dreadnought, its thruster fire swelling across the ancient plating, burning away a few of the scurrying droids as they finished cutting into the hull plating. They seemed unconcerned with their dwindling numbers as both Sevyn and Hundred targeted their colleagues, instead setting into the damaged innards of the ship's docking mechanism with a single-minded devotion. The spinning hull fragment spun off into the cold darkness of space, drifting passed the shuttle's viewports with an almost serene grace. A groaning shriek of twisting metal echoed inside the shuttle's compartments as the umbilical made contact with the Lone Star's hull, scraping a couple of inches before the magnetic clamps managed to lock into place on the ancient plating. The placement wasn't ideal with the maintenance hatch a little off-centre, but it was a good solid lock which would be more than sufficient for the party to board. "You guys had better be going," Felix called through the 'com as his fingers danced a grim fandango across the thruster controls. "That asteroid belt's coming up fast."</s> <\|message\|>Simon Brewer "T minus one minute and closing!" That was the last thing that escaped Simon's mouth before several tons of space-grade steel plowed straight into the Star's hull. The screech was ear splitting, but after all was done, the umbilical was locked firmly in place by the magnetic clamps. Felix had done his job, now it was time for them to do theirs. Simon stood, unclipped a slightly bent piece of plas-steel from his chest plate and bolted it into place on the back of his neck guard. The folded piece of equipment powered up and unfolded with a rhythmic whirring and clicking, extending itself up over his head and around his ears, the helmet slowly forming itself in place. The last thing to form itself was the faceplate, which he left up while he excited the cockpit, not without giving Felix a pat on the shoulder. "Good job Felix, thank you. We'll take it from here, you busy yourself with getting out of the way of those rocks." Without waiting for anyone else he booked it from the cockpit, grabbing his rifle from the bench as he strode towards the shuttle's airlock. He pushed his way ("excuse me sorry") past the Visipian, Mez, and tapped the airlock control. He turned back to the remaining crew still within the ship, a grimace on his face. "Colleagues, we have to leave, now." He nodded his head and his faceplate slid down and snapped into place, the viewports of the stark white helmet lighting up in a crimson red cross. "Otherwise we all perish."</s>	<\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name The shuttle airlock quickly cycled open. With the sealed unbilical on the far side the system knew not to waste time decompressing the chamber and Simon found himself looking down the passage towards where Sevyn waited for him.</s>
<\|description\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name Party Roster Hundred Kira - @Tenish the Mighty - Docking Bay Control Room - Active Sevyn Spades - @TTwoThumbsUp - Docking Bay Control Room - Inactive Marga - @Bonjour xx - Docking Bay Control Room - Active Farvis Kren - @TheUnknowable - Docking Bay Access Corridor - Inactive Mez - @Kalas - Docking Bay Access Corridor - Inactive Simon Brewer - @DJAtomika - Docking Bay Control Room - Active James "JR" Rourke - @TheMadAsshatter - Retired Red hatched areas are currently exposed to space and inaccessible for characters not in full EVA gear. Character Sheet Race: Species or sub-species. No defined limits here so feel free to pick any species appearing in popular culture or just make up your own. If your race has any special inherent abilities please be sure to list them below. Appearance: A basic description of the character's overall appearance and common attire, or a photo reference if possible. Personality: Simple psychological profile for your character, giving details of their main motivations and outlook on life. Skills: An outline of the training and abilities of the character. These come in five levels of proficiency: Amateur, Proficient, Experienced, Skilled, Expert. I'd recommend limiting the character to a maximum of five skills with two class or profession skills, two general skills and one combat skill. For example a Mechanic might have Expert Engineering and Expert Mechanics as class skills, Skilled Driver and Experienced Salesman as general skills and Proficient Brawler as a combat skill. Non-standard Abilities: This section is for unique abilities for the character's species, as well as any personal abilities they may have. I'd recommend an absolute maximum of three of these, but would counsel for only one or two in most cases. Equipment: Here you should give details of the main pieces of equipment the character usually carries with them when going on a high-risk mission. I'd recommend taking one or two weapons, at least one piece of class or profession-specific equipment, a set of armour or protective clothing, some form of communications gear and any utility or survival gear you feel would be appropriate. Bio: A brief (two or three paragraph) history of the character detailing where they're from, their current life circumstances and their reason for being included on the mission. Quote: An example of something the character is likely to say, giving an insight into their personality and general life attitude.</s> <\|message\|>Farvis Kren Farvis search the shuttle for anything useful he could take but came up empty. The emergency supply kit contained a bottle of brandy and some protein bars, but there was no sign of the first aid kit or the emergency laser pistol that was supposed to be there. It was possible they stripped all of the emergency weaponry from the shuttle before the mission to keep it from the dangerous criminals they were loading on board, but he doubted they were that competent. It was much more likely that some idiot was using the shuttle to hook up with female officers and was too busy in his pursuits to think about restocking anything but the food and alcohol. He stood up as he felt the umbilical connect and waited to leave, preferring to keep the angry cyborg in front of him he he wouldn't literally stab him in the back. He saw Marga eying the cockpit and knew what must be going through her head. He knew because the same thought had already went through his head dispute his inept piloting skills and been discarded. "There are much better prizes than a military shuttle." he whispered beside her ear. "You just need to wait a few hours." Hopefully she wouldn't take the shuttle. That would mean losing a very valuable ally in the operation he had planned.</s> <\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name As he sat counting the seconds, his eyes fixed firmly on the long-range scanners as the asteroid field loomed ever closer Felix spotted the emergency alarm fire up. Immediately his finger was on the intercom and he began screaming down the line, "Whoever's messing with my gear, get your hands off! Any supplies you're authorised to use can be found in the storage compartment beside the airlock, everything else has been earmarked for a highly confidential, need-to-know only mission we have lined up after I've dropped you bozos off." With that the pilot sat back in his seat, fretting whether the antique bottle of brandy he'd managed to procure for his 'confidential mission' with Ensign Ballard would still be there after the party left. And that her husband, his CO, wouldn't find out about the need-to-know docking maneuvers he had planned for her.</s> <\|message\|>Mez "I wear this armour not for show, Mez. Remove the medical officer and no one will be getting off her alive. Not even Hundred." @DJAtomika Mez was impressed by his counter threat. Though it wasn't directed entirely at him, he could understand the underlying meaning to it, even if there wasn't one. "I wouldn't let Hundred hear you saying that. I have a feeling she'd beg to differ. As much fun as this is, though, we really should get going. 'Cause, y'know, there's the small matter of the incoming asteroid belt and our impending doom to worry about if you don't move your ass instead of blocking the doorway." "Boys, boys, please. Let me get out a ruler and you two can settle this." @Bonjour xx He hadn't felt Marga walk up behind him. He wasn't startled but more concerned that she could still do that to him. He rolled his eyes at her comment. "Well you won't be needing a ruler for mine, I'm sure you remember well enough. Give it an hour, though, and I doubt you'll need a ruler for his either, seeing as that's what you do best, am I right?" It was a cutting reply, probably unwarranted, but Mez had had enough of her games already. If she was going to act like a whore just to spite him, he was going to treat her like one. With that, Mez decided to step past the Human Medic and into the umbilical, making sure not to touch the suited man. Sure, Mez was an asshole, but he sure as hell wasn't a hypocrite. He saw that Sevyn was waiting at the other end, seemingly puzzled with the access hatch that would lead them into the Lone Star. There wasn't any time to waste, they needed to get on that ship now or all of them would perish. Striding confidently toward the other end, Mez reached for his pistols, the ones given to him by Rasgrid. He held them out in front of him and aimed for the joints of the hatch, then he opened fire. The barrage of plasma fire slammed into the metal hull of the Lone Star, at first it only seemed to harmlessly splash against it. But before long it became apparent that the rounds were melting away at the joints as there were now glowing holes left where the joints used to be. He changed his target towards the handle, a red lever that would undoubtedly operate a large metallic latch behind it. That too would succumb to the intense heat of his plasma-fire. A larger hole was left in the wake of his rounds and molten, metallic slag was now running down the side of the dreadnought. He'd made sure not to hit Sevyn at all but it would have been impossible for her not the feel the heat of his passing bullets. By the time he'd finished firing, Mez had reached the end of the walkway, passing the Syndarin in the mean time. He stowed his right pistol, Osebon, at his side before grabbing the recently damaged hatch and ripping it from the rest of the ship, allowing it to clang loudly to the floor. He half-turned back towards the Syndarin and held up his remaining pistol, Ahael, before saying, "Super-heated Divine Energy, always does the trick." Mez then began climbing his way into the access hatch, making sure to scour the area ahead with his weapon. If those droids decided to make a return, Mez would turn them all to small piles of molten scrap.</s> <\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name The sudden shift in air pressure sent a wave of fetid, stale gas down the companionway as Mez yanked the airlock door open, and a heavy thunking sound could be heard from the inner hatch as some ancient mechanical safety feature quickly sealed the rest of the ship off from the breach, preventing any more air from escaping.</s> <\|message\|>Simon Brewer "Well I guess we're in. Quickly now, the asteroid field is coming." Simon nodded in appreciation as Mez swiftly handled the issue of the door not opening. Superheated plasma definitely ate through metal, no matter how reinforced it was. He simply followed the Visipian in, his visor light shining a bright red cross on the floor and walls wherever he looked. It wasn't particularly bright; without power, probably not even emergency power judging from how long it'd been gone, the Lone Star's interior was completely pitch black, save for the light streaming in through the open airlock and whatever glowy pieces of equipment the team had. It was quiet, too quiet, but here he was: a galaxy first, the first team to ever set foot on the Lone Star ever since it disappeared a decade ago. If they weren't on such a clandestine mission, he was sure that the whole thing would've been covered by news casters all over the sector, if not the whole system. This was the sort of thing that corporations won and lost money over, that built fortunes or lost them…or something absurdly profound like that. All Simon had in mind was his mission. Simon extended an arm and opened his hand, exposing the scanners built into the palm and fingers of his armour. Time to get a scope on what they were going to be dealing with. "System, full environment scan. Optics, visual scan, identify key facilities." With a soft bleep his armour got to working out their surroundings. A faint blue beam shot forth from his palm as he swept his hand slowly back and forth around the whole docking bay area, trying to take in as much information as he could, while his optics scanned and updated his heads-up display with key details; doors leading to unknown areas, potential hazards, along with any outstanding features within the bay that might've been of interest. The micro fans on his chest plate whirred softly away as they took in sample particulates from the air for sampling, while he panned his vision slowly across the entire bay, his optics scanning each nook and cranny, highlighting whatever was of interest in a pale blue outline, with details on what they were or where they led, if what was highlighted was a door. The full analysis took only a few seconds, and soon he had his samples taken and visual references gathered. Soon his armour would finish the physical analysis and it would give him the most important data he needed: could they breathe in here?</s> <\|message\|>Sevyn Spades It was a conundrum. How to open a door without the door handle. Or in this case an impossibly heavy and impossibly thick airlock that happened to have its wheel knocked off, either by the robots or hurtling debris. Sevyn could plug Jemini into the wheel socket and use the bot at a wheel, but when brought up to the drone the Syndarin was answered by a rapid succession of high pitched beeps and whirrs, followed by attempted mutilation by blowtorch. That meant that the plan was a go. Before Sevyn even had the chance to reach over for the drone however, a barrage of plasma fire splashed against the door, melting away the joints of the airlock. Which meant someone has shot at the Lone Star The Syndarin could only stare in horror, locking her magnetic boots reflexively against the sudden decompression. Luckily, that didn't happen, but the fetid stench coming from inside seemed to more than make up for it. Curious, as that meant there was a working atmosphere inside the ship, which meant that some power had to be operational which shouldn't have surprised Sevyn, really. Many ships were more than capable of running ten or more years without having to dock at any spaceport, provided they passed by the occasional gas giant every so often. Sure, minor systems would have broken down, but the ship itself would still have kept chugging. But still, someone shot the Lone Star. That also meant that whatever scanners the United Alliance Navy had used to scan the ship had either been tampered, damaged, or jammed somehow. Sevyn gave them all an almost equal split chance of probability, with extra points going toward jammed. It was the Vespian. But that was a discussion for another time because if the ship had power, that meant main protocols and subroutines were running, which meant an automatic bulkhead lockdown of their immediate surrounding section. While they certainly could blow through each and every one of them, the bulkheads would keep on shutting down and their progressed would be slowed immeasurably. Not to mention he shot at the Lone Star. Sevyn made her frustration known by ignoring everything the smug Vespian said to her, putting a hand to his helmet providing a direct communications channel and screamed, "WHAT. HAVE. YOU. DONE." The Syndarin stormed off angrily and hurriedly, pushing past the medic man and with the help of Jemini, began working on unlocking the inner door before the umbilical detached and the laws of pressure would forcibly remove everyone far, far away from the Lone Star and presumably into the then-onrushing asteroids. All without blowing the inner airlock to absolute shit, of course.</s>	<\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name "System, full environment scan. Optics, visual scan, identify key facilities." The initial scan results were, without a doubt, less than ideal. The plating around the airlock chamber was heavy enough to block a wider ranged scan but inside the compartment there was a distinct lack of anything. Apart from a few slight biological traces, which were quickly dying off due to the exposure to vacuum, the room seemed as though it had been thoroughly cleared out well before the party had arrived. Most likely by the Lone Star's original crew. As the beam played over the walls it quickly noted over a dozen storage lockers lining each of the airlock's walls. All apart from one hung open, their contents missing, presumably also removed purposefully many years before. The remaining locker seemed to have been sealed, the edges of its frame melted and blistered. The only other entrance from the chamber was another airlock hatch set into the opposite wall from the external one through which the party were now beginning to board. The scan showed the door had been mechanically locked down, heavy bars within the walls clamping it closed to prevent any loss of atmosphere due to the detected hull breach. With a beep the scanner lit up a panel beside the hatch which seemed to be some sort of manual override, but overriding what the scanner couldn't tell. --- With the shuttle now secured to the larger vessel Felix's job had become a whole lot easier, but with the short-range scanner now pinging with an alarming regularity as new asteroid fragments were showing up in close proximity he didn't have time to relax. Thumbing open the external commlink he raised as many of his passengers as he could, "Hate to break this to you guys but if you don't get a move on I'm gonna have to blow this popsicle stand with or without you." Almost as if on cue a small pebble tapped against the viewport in front of the pilot, leaving a small but very definite scratch in his otherwise unspoilt panorama. "And I mean like right now!"</s>
<\|description\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name Party Roster Hundred Kira - @Tenish the Mighty - Docking Bay Control Room - Active Sevyn Spades - @TTwoThumbsUp - Docking Bay Control Room - Inactive Marga - @Bonjour xx - Docking Bay Control Room - Active Farvis Kren - @TheUnknowable - Docking Bay Access Corridor - Inactive Mez - @Kalas - Docking Bay Access Corridor - Inactive Simon Brewer - @DJAtomika - Docking Bay Control Room - Active James "JR" Rourke - @TheMadAsshatter - Retired Red hatched areas are currently exposed to space and inaccessible for characters not in full EVA gear. Character Sheet Race: Species or sub-species. No defined limits here so feel free to pick any species appearing in popular culture or just make up your own. If your race has any special inherent abilities please be sure to list them below. Appearance: A basic description of the character's overall appearance and common attire, or a photo reference if possible. Personality: Simple psychological profile for your character, giving details of their main motivations and outlook on life. Skills: An outline of the training and abilities of the character. These come in five levels of proficiency: Amateur, Proficient, Experienced, Skilled, Expert. I'd recommend limiting the character to a maximum of five skills with two class or profession skills, two general skills and one combat skill. For example a Mechanic might have Expert Engineering and Expert Mechanics as class skills, Skilled Driver and Experienced Salesman as general skills and Proficient Brawler as a combat skill. Non-standard Abilities: This section is for unique abilities for the character's species, as well as any personal abilities they may have. I'd recommend an absolute maximum of three of these, but would counsel for only one or two in most cases. Equipment: Here you should give details of the main pieces of equipment the character usually carries with them when going on a high-risk mission. I'd recommend taking one or two weapons, at least one piece of class or profession-specific equipment, a set of armour or protective clothing, some form of communications gear and any utility or survival gear you feel would be appropriate. Bio: A brief (two or three paragraph) history of the character detailing where they're from, their current life circumstances and their reason for being included on the mission. Quote: An example of something the character is likely to say, giving an insight into their personality and general life attitude.</s> <\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name "Don't worry, I'm already playing the Countdown theme over here. Can't just dump the boarding party and run without at least giving them a chance to get the job done, otherwise I'll be toasted by the Admiralty rather than some useless chunk of rock." Felix replied back testily, his hands hovering over the control panel ready to break free the instant he got the all clear, or when the clock ran out. The light pattering sound on the shuttle's hull almost reminded him of the rainstorm back at home, except those storms couldn't suddenly change into a maelstrom of deadly metal fragments at a moment's notice. He should've been gone well before the storm reached them, and unless he broke away soon he'd never make it clear in time.</s> <\|message\|>"Call me Marga" is how she's most likely to answer the question "what's your name?" Whether that's her real name or not remains unanswered. "Well you won't be needing a ruler for mine, I'm sure you remember well enough. Give it an hour, though, and I doubt you'll need a ruler for his either, seeing as that's what you do best, am I right?" @Kalas Marga's face froze for a second, before her left eye gave an involuntary twitched and her expression morphed from one of smugness into one of sheer vexation. For a split second she was tempted to retort back the she'd need the magnifying spectrum on her googles, but the childish response died in her throat before it even had a half decent chance of being voiced. The biting comment didn't perturb her as much as the fact that Mez could still call her out on her shit when she was being full of herself; that he could still tell when her behaviour was an act she put on. Besides her former paramour, there were only two other beings which had ever been able to tell when Marga was being fake, when her actions and words were part of a performance meant to conceal something. Those two individuals were her brother and her mother. With the exception of Mez for one short stage in her life, Marga had never been closer to another person than she was to her brother. Her mother however was another matter. While her brother knew how to read her demeanour from years of practice from raising her from childhood and then working alongside her when she became an adult, Marga's estranged mother instinctively knew when her daughter's conduct was a sham, a pre tense that was filled with posturing. But they shared the same blood as her, something therefore bound them together, connected them. How Mez could tell performance from actuality was still unknown to her. Even back when he was no more to her than a possible fling, someone to waste a few hours with between the sheets, to escape from reality for a short while before she had to head back to the Armada and deal with a bunch of arseholes who gave her the absolute minimum respect they could get away with without receiving any punishment, Mez had been able to call her out on her shit. When she'd entered that bar all that time ago and clocked Mez standing near the bar nursing a drink, she had sauntered over to the handsome stranger, full of cockiness and confidence, her seductrice mask had just automatically fallen into place. Seduction was a game and Marga always won. Seduction was about manipulation and control. Seduction was power. And then that bastard had seen right through her facade and knocked her whole world off its axis. Suddenly it was a situation that Marga couldn't control, where there were unknowns that she couldn't anticipate. Suddenly she was unsure of herself. The feeling had blind-sided her then, and it had the exact same effect on her now. Uncertainty got you killed. Uncertainty made you vulnerable. Uncertainty led to failure. It was an emotion Marga couldn't afford. She had fought tooth and nail for her position in the Armada and she knew that all it would take was one slight crack in her metaphorical armour and it would all be wrenched from her grasp. She worked with thugs, ruffians and murderers. If she gave in to them even a single inch, they would see her as a weak link. Weak links were disposed of - or worse. Yes, Marga knew there were worse things that could happen to her than death or mutiny at the hands of the outfit of pirates. And hence the need for her mask and if she had to be perceived as a bitch to maintain it, so be it. Until she had met Mez, Marga had been positive that her mask was flawless. With the exception of family, no one had ever seen through it before. It had taken her several weeks to realise that instead of annoyance at having been found out, what she actually felt was pleased. The ramifications of that self-discovery was what had eventually sent her right back to Mez. Standing just inside of the Navy shuttle, Marga ground her thoughts to a halt. Her mind had a strong tendency to wonder, her emotions getting the better of her. But now wasn't the time to reminisce on such things. Marga had a decision to make. With the astroid field closing in on them within the next thirty seconds, the thief knew she didn't have the necessary piloting skills to make a successful getaway without being torn to shreds. As Marga eyed the umbilical tunnel, her attention was caught by the only unopened locker on the other side of the Lone Star's docking entrance. Locked. Marga liked things that were locked. It meant someone had taken the time to place something they valued into the locker, box, vault, etc to keep it safe. People regarded items differently - as they said, one man's rubbish is another man's gold. Marga felt a familiar tingle starting at the tips of her long, slender fingers. The more she pondered the mystery that was the Lone Star, she further up her hands and arms the sensation traveled. Locked. In its essence, the dreadnought was one massive locked box… And Marga had never been able to resist peeking inside a locked box. So, despite her reservations, the thief turned back to where she had spied a set of naval issue environmental suits, quickly slid into it, placed the helmet over her head, grabbed a pair of small laser-beam guns, then turned and put one foot in front of the other and walked down the connecting tunnel and stepped into the Lone Star.</s> <\|message\|>Farvis Kren Farvis opened the storage locker and grabbed a shotgun and several extra rounds, then put on a space suit and comm system from the same locker. The medical suit he was wearing could withstand the pressure change and had its own air processing system, but it lacked the ability to heat itself, making it of limited use as a space suit. He activated the force field helmet on his medical suit for extra protection and made his way across the umbilical. He was contemplating how to get the inner hatch open when someone decided to just melt the hinges with a plasma weapon. "Are you just going to keep melting through every locked door?" he asked. "We need to equalize pressure in here. Not all of us can survive indefinitely in the vacuum of space, you know. Everyone needs to get inside so that we can reseal the door behind us, probably by welding in in place with more plasma fire." He entered the room they had just blown there way into, pushing his way past the others if he had to, and went over to the only locker that hadn't been ransacked yet, probably because of the damage to it. To get it open, though, he was going to have to damage it even more. Hopefully it was built like most lockers, and only made of thin metal, otherwise this would hurt. He increased his adrenaline level to Alpha-state levels and punched the center of the locker door. Hopefully the door would bend enough to break whatever minor welding the heat damage had caused and break the locker open.</s> <\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name As soon as Farvis's hand slammed through the thin metal door of the locker he felt sharp claws grabbing at his wrist, cutting easily through his space suit but catching on his sterile suit beneath. Luckily the added protection from the outer armour was enough to prevent any worse damage, but he could still feel the sharp tine sawing its way through the nano-tube reinforced material far more quickly than a conventional blade should be able to.</s> <\|message\|>Sevyn Spades Jemini had the good sense to stay quiet as the Syndarin mentally screamed in her head as she worked desperately to open the door. Her emotions were playing too much with the adrenaline she depended on to stay calm and cool in high tense situations such as this, though usually she had a team behind her back that she could trust and she often had the blessing of being blissfully unaware of the true precariousness of her situations. Unfortunately the misfits Sevyn had found herself with had no respect or no knowledge of how ships were constructed (at least the mercenaries asked her first if it was safe to blow something up), were too focused on baiting and antagonizing each other rather than focusing on the mission (at least the mercenaries she was with waited until after the job was done), psychopathic killers (at least the mercen... well okay her people were essentially a race of repressed psychopaths so she didn't really have anything to counter for this one), or some ungodly combination of all three. She also added "sticking hands into places they shouldn't be" to the list, judging from the sounds behind her, though she admitted that she fell amazingly well into that category. The pilot announcing that he had to leave soon and fast did nothing to help Sevyn's nerves, pounding at the impossible door once in frustration. The nearby console beeped on almost immediately after. Sevyn briefly entertained the possibly of her being capable of great and powerful technomagic before jumping onto the console and began working furiously to activate the manual override. Unfortunately the flashy user-friendly interface shut down the moment the Syndarin touched the screen which made her think of what terrible gifts she was now in control of before the screen rebooted back on, only to now show the base code. The language the code was written in had been cutting edge when the Lone Star was first built, written specifically for it if Sevyn remembered correctly, and it was so impossibly difficult to work with that it was never released to the general public. In fact it still wasn't, and is only used in the most top of the line military software. Of course that didn't stop Sevyn from getting her grubby little hands on it and while programming certainly wasn't her best skill, she sure as hell didn't want to be blown out of the airlock. Although, perhaps it didn't bode well when Sevyn realized she still had trouble working with the code and she didn't exactly know what she was manually overriding.</s>	<\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name A grinding howl echoed through the shuttle and the status board lit up with warnings as Felix swore loudly into his mike. "Oh shit! Whatever you guys are doing you'd better hurry up. One of the big rocks just grazed my starboard engine pod and almost killed us all!"</s>
<\|description\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name Party Roster Hundred Kira - @Tenish the Mighty - Docking Bay Control Room - Active Sevyn Spades - @TTwoThumbsUp - Docking Bay Control Room - Inactive Marga - @Bonjour xx - Docking Bay Control Room - Active Farvis Kren - @TheUnknowable - Docking Bay Access Corridor - Inactive Mez - @Kalas - Docking Bay Access Corridor - Inactive Simon Brewer - @DJAtomika - Docking Bay Control Room - Active James "JR" Rourke - @TheMadAsshatter - Retired Red hatched areas are currently exposed to space and inaccessible for characters not in full EVA gear. Character Sheet Race: Species or sub-species. No defined limits here so feel free to pick any species appearing in popular culture or just make up your own. If your race has any special inherent abilities please be sure to list them below. Appearance: A basic description of the character's overall appearance and common attire, or a photo reference if possible. Personality: Simple psychological profile for your character, giving details of their main motivations and outlook on life. Skills: An outline of the training and abilities of the character. These come in five levels of proficiency: Amateur, Proficient, Experienced, Skilled, Expert. I'd recommend limiting the character to a maximum of five skills with two class or profession skills, two general skills and one combat skill. For example a Mechanic might have Expert Engineering and Expert Mechanics as class skills, Skilled Driver and Experienced Salesman as general skills and Proficient Brawler as a combat skill. Non-standard Abilities: This section is for unique abilities for the character's species, as well as any personal abilities they may have. I'd recommend an absolute maximum of three of these, but would counsel for only one or two in most cases. Equipment: Here you should give details of the main pieces of equipment the character usually carries with them when going on a high-risk mission. I'd recommend taking one or two weapons, at least one piece of class or profession-specific equipment, a set of armour or protective clothing, some form of communications gear and any utility or survival gear you feel would be appropriate. Bio: A brief (two or three paragraph) history of the character detailing where they're from, their current life circumstances and their reason for being included on the mission. Quote: An example of something the character is likely to say, giving an insight into their personality and general life attitude.</s> <\|message\|>Farvis Kren Farvis opened the storage locker and grabbed a shotgun and several extra rounds, then put on a space suit and comm system from the same locker. The medical suit he was wearing could withstand the pressure change and had its own air processing system, but it lacked the ability to heat itself, making it of limited use as a space suit. He activated the force field helmet on his medical suit for extra protection and made his way across the umbilical. He was contemplating how to get the inner hatch open when someone decided to just melt the hinges with a plasma weapon. "Are you just going to keep melting through every locked door?" he asked. "We need to equalize pressure in here. Not all of us can survive indefinitely in the vacuum of space, you know. Everyone needs to get inside so that we can reseal the door behind us, probably by welding in in place with more plasma fire." He entered the room they had just blown there way into, pushing his way past the others if he had to, and went over to the only locker that hadn't been ransacked yet, probably because of the damage to it. To get it open, though, he was going to have to damage it even more. Hopefully it was built like most lockers, and only made of thin metal, otherwise this would hurt. He increased his adrenaline level to Alpha-state levels and punched the center of the locker door. Hopefully the door would bend enough to break whatever minor welding the heat damage had caused and break the locker open.</s> <\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name As soon as Farvis's hand slammed through the thin metal door of the locker he felt sharp claws grabbing at his wrist, cutting easily through his space suit but catching on his sterile suit beneath. Luckily the added protection from the outer armour was enough to prevent any worse damage, but he could still feel the sharp tine sawing its way through the nano-tube reinforced material far more quickly than a conventional blade should be able to.</s> <\|message\|>Sevyn Spades Jemini had the good sense to stay quiet as the Syndarin mentally screamed in her head as she worked desperately to open the door. Her emotions were playing too much with the adrenaline she depended on to stay calm and cool in high tense situations such as this, though usually she had a team behind her back that she could trust and she often had the blessing of being blissfully unaware of the true precariousness of her situations. Unfortunately the misfits Sevyn had found herself with had no respect or no knowledge of how ships were constructed (at least the mercenaries asked her first if it was safe to blow something up), were too focused on baiting and antagonizing each other rather than focusing on the mission (at least the mercenaries she was with waited until after the job was done), psychopathic killers (at least the mercen... well okay her people were essentially a race of repressed psychopaths so she didn't really have anything to counter for this one), or some ungodly combination of all three. She also added "sticking hands into places they shouldn't be" to the list, judging from the sounds behind her, though she admitted that she fell amazingly well into that category. The pilot announcing that he had to leave soon and fast did nothing to help Sevyn's nerves, pounding at the impossible door once in frustration. The nearby console beeped on almost immediately after. Sevyn briefly entertained the possibly of her being capable of great and powerful technomagic before jumping onto the console and began working furiously to activate the manual override. Unfortunately the flashy user-friendly interface shut down the moment the Syndarin touched the screen which made her think of what terrible gifts she was now in control of before the screen rebooted back on, only to now show the base code. The language the code was written in had been cutting edge when the Lone Star was first built, written specifically for it if Sevyn remembered correctly, and it was so impossibly difficult to work with that it was never released to the general public. In fact it still wasn't, and is only used in the most top of the line military software. Of course that didn't stop Sevyn from getting her grubby little hands on it and while programming certainly wasn't her best skill, she sure as hell didn't want to be blown out of the airlock. Although, perhaps it didn't bode well when Sevyn realized she still had trouble working with the code and she didn't exactly know what she was manually overriding.</s> <\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name A grinding howl echoed through the shuttle and the status board lit up with warnings as Felix swore loudly into his mike. "Oh shit! Whatever you guys are doing you'd better hurry up. One of the big rocks just grazed my starboard engine pod and almost killed us all!"</s> <\|message\|>"Call me Marga" is how she's most likely to answer the question "what's your name?" Whether that's her real name or not remains unanswered. Marga walked passed Farvis as he approached the locker that looked welded shut. As curious as she was to its contents, she figured she'd let Farvis take the risk of opening it. Then if she liked what was inside, she'd just take it - well, eventually anyway. The special environmental suit she had taken from the shuttle felt strange on her person. Unused to wearing such things as they tended to slow one down and limit one's abilities, Marga hoped there would be enough power left in the ship to enable them to activate the basic life support functions. She did note however, that the grip the suit allowed her to maintain on the floor was a point in its favour. The thief was quietly adjusting her small taser gun onto the outside of her suit and pondering how they were going to get the Gygan inside the Lone Star with them when she spotted the Syndarian who had introduced herself as Seyvn Spades standing in front of a console clearly meant for opening the next door. Having preformed a bit of work in that neck of the woods before, Marga had heard of Sevyn's impressive reputation as a pilot and made a mental note to ask for some pointers from her once this was all over. For now though, Marga knew there were more pressing matters to attend to - like the fact that they were all about to become space mush in under thirty seconds if they didn't open the aforementioned door. "Not to brag, but codes, algorithms and cracking them are sort of my thing, love," Marga said, coming to stand next to the Syndarian. "Right, let's see what we're dealing with."</s> <\|message\|>Farvis Kren Farvis felt something cut through the wrist of his space suit at rub against the wrist of his medical suit. In the slowed down time of Alpha state he was able to pull his hand out before it could do anything more. He then drew his shotgun and fired three times into the hole, the motion of the shotgun taking him several seconds to pump the next shell into the firing chamber as he perceived it. After he fired it he pulled himself out of the Alpha state so that he wouldn't wear himself out any more, abut kept the gun trained on the hole. "Something's in there." he said, "It felt like some creature tried to cut my hand off."</s> <\|message\|>Simon Brewer Simon merely watched as his teammates bumbled around like plebs. At least Mez and Hundred has some sense of what was going on and they were efficient. Everyone else though? He didn't even know why they needed this many people for one lousy retrieval mission. A pilot, sure, but two pilots? And two doctors too? Two combat types as well, that was to be expected, which left the only odd one out being the prissy bitch that was Marga. Hmm. The prospect of sharing the mission with someone like her irked him, but then again he had had to work with prissy bitch interns before on Mars. That backwater colony had the notorious rep for being the one place that nearly every off-world med school sent bad interns. He'd get used to it. For now, he simply focused on the tasks at hand. With the initial analysis of the inner airlock holding room done, and everything safe except for the rapid lack of air and heat, he was done with his safety checks. But when he approached the lockers he saw Farvis punch the only closed one through the door, then withdraw his hand just as abruptly. His optics noted the claw marks that had eaten through the outer suit and almost through the inner, and he gently pushed Farvis aside after he'd sufficiently vented his shotgun-based anger into the locker. "Stand aside, let me scan this. Optics, scan and x-ray." He slowly panned his vision from the top to the bottom of the locker, unsure of what he'd find past the three gaping holes in the locker door.</s>	<\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name "Stand aside, let me scan this. Optics, scan and x-ray." As the beam shone through the holes in the locker door the heads-up display began to flicker between two very different readings. One moment it reported a lifeform, the next a piece of equipment. Finally the computer intelligence admitted that it didn't know what to make of what it was seeing and flashed up a message reading '[[INCONCLUSIVE]]', followed by a long list of all the data points it had been able to gather. Luckily for Simon he wouldn't have to wait too long for more information to work with as a set of glistening, metallic blades reached out from inside the largest hole and began to claw at the edges, slowly widening the breach as thick purple ichor seeped from inside. --- Grabbing his helmet and quickly locking it into place JR quickly made his way over to the airlock, slamming his hand on the door control to cycle the outer door open. He glanced over at the weapon's rack but all he could see were some older pattern shotguns and pistols, no grenades or other gear which could help bolster his own gear, so without wasting another second he boosted down the umbilical, letting the low gravity float him towards the Lone Star's airlock chamber. Halfway along the passage he saw something shoot passed his faceplate and as he drifted along he looked back to see a pair of holes, one each side of the umbilical. "Umm, guys, I think we have a problem." He called out through his headset, hoping the others were on the same frequency. A moment later he stepped through the melted doorframe and saw the claws ripping their way out of the locker. "Ohh, nevermind. Looks like you have your hands full." He said calmly as he reached for his submachine gun and pistol. Swinging them both up he opened fire on whatever it was, only to be thrown back against the far bulkhead as sprays of plasma impacted around the locker, hitting everything but the holes he'd been aiming at. For a moment he lay stunned, his head ringing from where he'd hit it against the inside of his helmet, but as he recovered he quickly slammed his hand down on his belt control, activating the suit's grav boots. "Okay, let's try that again." He said, taking aim with his guns once more, only this time he balsted at the door panel, shattering the controls in a burst of sparks. With a silent hiss of escaping gas the door seal snapped off and the hatch swung open, a cloud of noxious air accompanying it into the airlock chamber, only to be sucked out towards the breach in the umbilical. "Quick, all of you clear the bay. I got this." JT called out, pulling a det-pack from his belt and thumbing the activator.</s>
<\|description\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name Party Roster Hundred Kira - @Tenish the Mighty - Docking Bay Control Room - Active Sevyn Spades - @TTwoThumbsUp - Docking Bay Control Room - Inactive Marga - @Bonjour xx - Docking Bay Control Room - Active Farvis Kren - @TheUnknowable - Docking Bay Access Corridor - Inactive Mez - @Kalas - Docking Bay Access Corridor - Inactive Simon Brewer - @DJAtomika - Docking Bay Control Room - Active James "JR" Rourke - @TheMadAsshatter - Retired Red hatched areas are currently exposed to space and inaccessible for characters not in full EVA gear. Character Sheet Race: Species or sub-species. No defined limits here so feel free to pick any species appearing in popular culture or just make up your own. If your race has any special inherent abilities please be sure to list them below. Appearance: A basic description of the character's overall appearance and common attire, or a photo reference if possible. Personality: Simple psychological profile for your character, giving details of their main motivations and outlook on life. Skills: An outline of the training and abilities of the character. These come in five levels of proficiency: Amateur, Proficient, Experienced, Skilled, Expert. I'd recommend limiting the character to a maximum of five skills with two class or profession skills, two general skills and one combat skill. For example a Mechanic might have Expert Engineering and Expert Mechanics as class skills, Skilled Driver and Experienced Salesman as general skills and Proficient Brawler as a combat skill. Non-standard Abilities: This section is for unique abilities for the character's species, as well as any personal abilities they may have. I'd recommend an absolute maximum of three of these, but would counsel for only one or two in most cases. Equipment: Here you should give details of the main pieces of equipment the character usually carries with them when going on a high-risk mission. I'd recommend taking one or two weapons, at least one piece of class or profession-specific equipment, a set of armour or protective clothing, some form of communications gear and any utility or survival gear you feel would be appropriate. Bio: A brief (two or three paragraph) history of the character detailing where they're from, their current life circumstances and their reason for being included on the mission. Quote: An example of something the character is likely to say, giving an insight into their personality and general life attitude.</s> <\|message\|>Mez When he had told them to get inside, Mez hadn't expected Hundred to come hurtling straight at him. The impact of their collision sent him cascading across the corridor and smashing into the wall. An audible clang of metal rang out, echoing in both directions. That was sure to wake something up. As he regained his composure and returned to his feet, he let out a feral growl of displeasure. The metal flooring beneath where he had fallen remained scraped and dented but Mez was fine in comparison. He was just brushing himself off when he turned a focused stare toward the Gygan, sizing her up. Despite the recent calamity, he didn't feel any ill will towards her simply annoyance. Though the look he received in return was just as predatory. Of the six of them on board the forgotten space hulk, he deemed her the most dangerous besides him. However, she also seemed the least likely to lash out in an angry manner. He supposed that's what made her one to watch. If she was going to do anything, it would most certainly be a well-calculated, premeditated attack. And if the pair of them came to blows, he wasn't entirely sure how he'd call the fight. Whilst he was extremely familiar and confident in his own strengths and abilities, the Gygan on the other hand remained somewhat of a mystery to him. Sure, she had displayed sufficient usage of her micro/nano-scale machinery she liked to call The Dust, but her actual fighting prowess had yet to be fully displayed. The droids from earlier were hardly a fight. He mentally noted her down as a level 3. As he did so, three miniature stars appeared above her head. His optical implants came with a Combat Initiative Program that would identify threats, weaknesses and certain points of interest, as well as vitals and damage reports. Whilst it remained useless as a normal environment scanner, during the heat of combat or situations that presented a certain factor of danger towards his being, the program would display many useful pieces of information and data to help Mez to survive. Scanning the room, he looked at each of his so-called 'teammates', they were currently all identified as green. Anything new that moved would automatically be identified as red until established that it was not a threat. He had input suspected combat ratings of the other members of the mission back on board the shuttle, only now had he decided upon Hundred's. He noted that Marga had managed to drag an injured Human through the door in time. It was Farvis - the man he had sworn to himself would die by his hand. He felt nothing for him now, even if he were on death's door, although he would have preferred to be the one to administer the killing blow. His former lover was growing increasingly more concerned with the man but Mez let it go, she was prone to becoming emotional during times like these. Instead of hovering over the man, he decided that he would look around the corridor in which they had managed to survive. He began an idle stroll to the left, keeping a single hand on his pistol and his other hand on his blade, ready for anything.</s> <\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name The terminal sparked into life, restoring partial emergency power to the corridor and lighting up the evacuation guides designed to help guide the crew in case of a hull breach, a system which may have been triggered by either the loss of the external hatch, the explosion in the airlock or the shuttle's inglorious exit. Unfortunately for the party, the guides all seemed to be pointing to the very hatch they'd just sealed behind them, granting no further assistance to their endeavour. The emergency lighting however was a little more useful, bringing to light the guide arrows etched into scorched the wall panel. To the bow of the ship lay the main hangar, where the ship's own complement of shuttles was likely housed, a chamber currently exposed to space with the main docking doors opened two meters. To the stern the sign pointed to something identified as a maintenance bay, presumably a facility for the upkeep of the shuttle fleet, as well as other basic ship's systems. The two doors in the corridor were identified as the Shuttle Control Room, and the Head.</s> <\|message\|>Simon Brewer "On my way!" Ignoring the relative havoc that was going on within the docking bay, he rushed to Marga and Farvis' side. His hand found the release of the force field helmet and tapped it, opening up the man's face to the elements, well, all the elements that were in the room anyway. He barely had time to register Hundred careening past the closing door, crashing into Mez and upsetting everything else, but then there she was, sealing up the door to give them breathable air, or at least a semblance of one. The ship's emergency lighting chose that moment to restore itself, though he knew not how, and he had more light than just his visor's light. He flipped the faceplate of his armour up with a flick of his chin and gave the poor man a once over. His face was covered in blood, so was the inside of his visor, his breathing was ragged but steady, but his optics would have to provide him with a better view. As he reached behind him to grab a hand into his back rig, he gave his optics their next command. "Optics, x-ray, scan for severe injuries and highlight immediately." His groping hand found a small tube and he pulled it right out immediately. The translucent green fluid within vibrated gently as the vial settled in his hand while he slowly swept his optics over Farvis' battered body. Even without the help of his tech, he saw the mighty large gash that had torn its way across the man's face, diagonally across and to the left. Thankfully whatever had caused him the damage had missed his eyes; even with his medical supplies he couldn't regrow those here. He popped the top of the vial and poured a small amount of the cool green gel along the gash. The antiseptics in the compound acted immediately, producing a slight buzzing, painful sensation that almost immediately dulled as the analgesics within the gel next took their effect; the gel warmed up and began to melt, flowing into the wound and being absorbed by Farvis' exposed dermis and tissue underneath. As the medigel continued its healing effects, Simon kept his hand still and gentle on the man's face, his eyes shut tight, and if one were to lean in closely, they could hear him muttering, under his breath, the below statement extremely quietly, repeating itself over and over again. "A spiritibus supra omnia curare et absolvat hunc dolorem." The flesh underneath his hand would, almost as if by magic, slowly stitch itself and seal back together. The gash, after all, was a minor injury, merely a flesh wound, and the medigel's rapid healing capabilities could handle that no sweat. It was the other injuries that concerned him more, and shortly his system would have the answer to that. After he'd treated Farvis he would return his attention to the matter of the ship and the rest of their unlikely team.</s> <\|message\|>Farvis Kren Farvis opened his eyes to see the doctor standing over him. "Trying to give me Last Rights, Doctor?" he said. "I'm not Catholic and I'm not dead yet. Thank you for the healing, though." He felt the would on his head repair itself. "Gotta love medigel." When he sat up he grabbed a syringe of stem cells from his kit and laid them on a glowing section the cellular programmer he carried them in. "Still a bit of a concussion. Mind if I use a few stem cells to fix any neural damage?" Without waiting for a reply he told the machine to set program them to mimic human neurons, then injected them into himself. Pulling the needle out, he looked around. "So, I was out for a bit so I've got a few questions. One, who rescued me? I need to thank them. Two, does anyone know which way I need to go to get to the medical bay, as we obviously need to set up quickly? And three, WHO THE HELL THOUGHT IT WAS A GOOD IDEA TO SET OFF AN EXPLOSION IN THE AIRLOCK? I ALMOST DIED!" He shouted the last bit, hoping that whoever that idiot was would realize how stupid they were for doing it. What were they thinking? Explosions in close proximity to others in an enclosed space?</s> <\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name In a sudden burst of sparks and plastic components the terminal under Sevyn's fingers suddenly exploded in her face, almost as if someone had intentionally directed a pulse through the ship's systems to deliberately prevent her from activating anything other than the lights.</s> <\|message\|>"Call me Marga" is how she's most likely to answer the question "what's your name?" Whether that's her real name or not remains unanswered. Marga rolled her eyes at Farvis' outburst, noting gladly that there appeared to be no worse injury than some nasty looking tissue damage and a concussion - which both doctors promptly took care of anyway. Marga stood up, pleased that the situation had been dealt with. Normally she wouldn't have been the one to help out a fellow teammate - and especially not an injured one at that. However the circumstances here were very different from a mission with the Armada. With these people, half of whom were strangers, there was no law that stated that any man who fell behind would be left behind - at least, Marga thought, no one had voiced such a notion. Furthermore, having two trained medical professionals was bound to come in extremely useful given how the team was barely in the Lone Star's front door and had already suffered casualties and fatalities. Looking over to where Mez stood further down the corridor, Marga wasn't so sure what would happen to her if she were that aforementioned person unlucky enough to fall behind. Then again, there was that moment right before and immediately following the bomb going off earlier. Unconsciously, the thief's feet had started leading her over to where the Visipian was standing, hand poised on his gun. When Marga noticed this, she spun on her heel and quickly diverted her attention to the nearest possible thing. This just happened to be the door with writing on it that read 'Shuttle Control Room'. Hoping her earlier actions hadn't been caught by Mez, Marga ran her palm up and down the center of the door. She knocked against the metal a few times too, testing it. Her findings didn't shock her. The door was heavily reinforced, but clearly wasn't designed to outsmart thieves. The middle of the door held the solution to opening it. Marga knocked on this part of the entrance a few more times before she was satisfied, then she opened the messenger-style bad that was slung over her shoulder and started rooting around in its depths. After a few moments of searching, Marga pulled out what looked to be a type of grenade and then a vial of fluorescent purple liquid. Marga popped open the vial and poured the liquid along the edges of the armoured panels that were located down the middle of the Shuttle Control Room's door. Then, the thief expertly and carefully picked apart the grenade and sprinkled its contents over where she had poured the colourful liquid. Grinning, Marga stepped back and watched as the chemicals reacted to effectively melt through the amoured panel, which when Marga stepped forward and tugged at it, fell away easily, revealing six heavy-duty locks beneath it. Marga nodded, more to herself than anyone, then preceded to crack her knuckles. It was an unconscious habit she had before she attempted picking locks, one she'd had for years now. Marga worked silently on the locks, carefully twisted the tumblers this way and that, hoping to hit their sweet spots. It didn't take too long and one by one, a satisfying click was heard from each of them. The thief stood up from where she'd been crouching as she worked on the last lock and took a step back, bumping into a familiar body. Jumping slightly, Marga cleared her throat and stepped to the side. "Anybody want to do the honours?" she asked, referring to pushing or pulling the heavy door open now that she had unlocked it. Well, she hoped she had unlocked it.</s>	<\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name As the locks gave way under Marga's deft touch a gentle hiss of escaping air wafted past as the uncontaminated atmosphere within began to mix with the thinner, less well fragranced air in the corridor. A moment later a series of clicks and whirrs could be heard from the ceiling as ancient systems came back to life, panels sliding apart and gears moving into place lowering a pair of automated guns down into the passageway. For a moment the guns swung back and forth as if uncertain as to what they were supposed to be doing, before springing to life, peppering the hallway with laser blasts designed to discourage unwanted access to the control room behind them.</s>
<\|description\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name Party Roster Hundred Kira - @Tenish the Mighty - Docking Bay Control Room - Active Sevyn Spades - @TTwoThumbsUp - Docking Bay Control Room - Inactive Marga - @Bonjour xx - Docking Bay Control Room - Active Farvis Kren - @TheUnknowable - Docking Bay Access Corridor - Inactive Mez - @Kalas - Docking Bay Access Corridor - Inactive Simon Brewer - @DJAtomika - Docking Bay Control Room - Active James "JR" Rourke - @TheMadAsshatter - Retired Red hatched areas are currently exposed to space and inaccessible for characters not in full EVA gear. Character Sheet Race: Species or sub-species. No defined limits here so feel free to pick any species appearing in popular culture or just make up your own. If your race has any special inherent abilities please be sure to list them below. Appearance: A basic description of the character's overall appearance and common attire, or a photo reference if possible. Personality: Simple psychological profile for your character, giving details of their main motivations and outlook on life. Skills: An outline of the training and abilities of the character. These come in five levels of proficiency: Amateur, Proficient, Experienced, Skilled, Expert. I'd recommend limiting the character to a maximum of five skills with two class or profession skills, two general skills and one combat skill. For example a Mechanic might have Expert Engineering and Expert Mechanics as class skills, Skilled Driver and Experienced Salesman as general skills and Proficient Brawler as a combat skill. Non-standard Abilities: This section is for unique abilities for the character's species, as well as any personal abilities they may have. I'd recommend an absolute maximum of three of these, but would counsel for only one or two in most cases. Equipment: Here you should give details of the main pieces of equipment the character usually carries with them when going on a high-risk mission. I'd recommend taking one or two weapons, at least one piece of class or profession-specific equipment, a set of armour or protective clothing, some form of communications gear and any utility or survival gear you feel would be appropriate. Bio: A brief (two or three paragraph) history of the character detailing where they're from, their current life circumstances and their reason for being included on the mission. Quote: An example of something the character is likely to say, giving an insight into their personality and general life attitude.</s> <\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name As she backed through the doorway the turrets quickly seemed to lose interest in her, their simple machine logic ordering them to focus fire on the people outside the control room, rather than those already inside. The control room itself seemed surprisingly well furnished, with several padded and comfortable looking chairs lining the side of the room and looking out through a heavily armoured viewport into the shuttle bay below. The control panel was shot, literally. The casing marred and pitted with multiple blaster holes, almost as if someone had opened fire on it on full-auto, but the display screens were flicking to life in response to Sevyn's entry, their screens smashed and broken but systems obviously still active, even after all this time.</s> <\|message\|>Simon Brewer He had expected Farvis to stand up and recover rather quickly; the man was a doctor, albeit not a very honest one, but a doctor nonetheless. He nodded as the doors to the innards of the ship slowly slid open after Marga's fiddling. Progress. Finally. "Marga rescued you, Farvis. And as to the medical bay, unless someone has a detailed map of the ship interior, I don't we'll find it that -" Suddenly he was interrupted by the pings and cracks of laser fire from down the hall, and as he ducked out of the way he saw that the fire came from two ceiling mounted turrets that swiveled and tracked their movements with frightening accuracy. Obviously these things were a threat that needed to be taken care of, but he was too busy trying not to get shot to solve that problem. As he dove for cover he spotted Marga and Farvis, frozen in the hallway. He knew that the augmented human could dive to safety quick enough, but Marga wasn't that fast. She took a spatter of laser fire across her abdomen, scorching her suit and whatever armour she wore as she fell. He heard her swear multiple times ("FUCKING SHIT FUCK OW BLOODY FUCKING <alien swear words> OW") as she hit the floor, while their Syndari teammate took cover behind her drone and blasted her way forward. Simon sighed and reached out, grasping Marga by the wrist as he pulled her out of the line of fire and into the relative safety of the bay. Once done, he assessed her just like he did with Farvis. He guessed that the lasers the ceiling turrets were packing weren't strong to completely incinerate whatever they hit, but lasers were lasers; they were hot and they hurt like a bitch. That's what he needed to treat first, and another tube of medigel was all he needed. With Farvis recovering quickly enough from his injuries, he'd still had half a tube left over, so he used that tube and squeezed the rest of it all over her burned stomach and sides, using his gloves to liberally spread the cooling, numbing gel all over the burns. The regenerative agents within the gel would act quickly, sealing wounds, healing her inner flesh and regenerating the outer layers of skin, and though they wouldn't heal whatever cosmetic damage she'd sustained to her suit, she was healthy. He capped the empty tube and slid it back into his rear rigging for refilling later, so now he focused on the turrets. Those things were dual-barreled security turrets, rapid fire laser guns that were more for area denial than anything else. He cursed under his breath, flipped his faceplate down and deactivated the safety of his battle rifle. He felt its computers whirr its internal machinery into life, powering up the huge, magnetic rails and tines that made up its assembly. With fire still spattering the front of that hallway, Simon had barely any space to reach around the wall, but so he did, and he aimed his rifle at the relative area where one of the turrets was and pulled the trigger several times. Slugs of molten metal screamed their way towards his target, punching through whatever armour the turrets had as they buried themselves in the machinery and circuitry, frying and searing whatever they touched before they rapidly cooled, sealing themselves inside their holes, preventing any repair.</s> <\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name "Hey, watch the hands!" Marga glared at Simon, her eyes darting over at Mez for a moment, self-conscious of her own weakened condition. The doctor was already turning away from the stricken Thuboisii half-breed, his rifle firing several shots at the turrets as they continued tracking targets in the hallway. The first volley skitted harmlessly off of the turrets' armour plating, the metal darts bouncing away to impact against the hallway wall. THe second round was luckier, a single sliver finding a weak point in the military-grade plating and digging its way inside the weapon. The turret fell silent, hanging limply from its housing, its innards shredded. The second turret suddenly stopped its random firing, and for a moment darted back and forth uncertainly before locking onto Simon's position and opening fire with all its strength. The charged laser blasts peppered his cover, slowly eating their way through as the electronics hidden inside began to spark and stutter, sending arcs of energy rippling through the surface.</s> <\|message\|>Hundred Kira Hundred bared her teeth as the Syndarin spoke. It was a smile. It did not just resemble one. It wasn't just with her teeth. Mirth reached her eyes. But there was something else in it. A bloody stain on the purity of the genuine smile. A brutality. Some awful anticipation glistened off of Hundred's teeth. The Syndarin was actually challenging her. In albeit an insipid and infantile way, but the brazen gall with which she did so sent an electric shiver through the faulty Gygan. Her mouth opened slightly to respond, so many possibilities whirling through her head and on her lips. Then the Syndarin spoke of the most beautiful thing Hundred could imagine. An explosion of excitement burst through Hundred's nervous system. Then the console exploded across her face. Hundred did not flinch. She regarded the melted ruins of the node. The smile remained. If anything, it only grew in intensity. She looked at the console, then back at the Syndarin. She looked like she was about to kiss the alien, or, perhaps, tear out her throat with her teeth. The smile on her face suggested that the two propositions were not exclusive. Hundred parted her teeth again to speak. A click, the gentle breathy sound of metals sliding across one another, nearly frictionless. The whine of auto-lasers. Now Hundred's smile shifted. No more warmth in the eyes. A snarl now. This ship had a most irritating sense of timing. The Dust reacted according to automated contingencies, reflexively contracting in the atmosphere around Hundred, reorienting themselves in response to the observed threat of the lasers. A small cloud of refractive particles was being generated around her to diminish the strength of any stray bolts that found themselves firing at Hundred, who remained still, crouched next to the panel. Her lips slipped over her teeth, the snarl becoming a more comfortable frown. She calmly watched the scattering barrage. The turrets were not exceptionally powerful, designed for suppression and to avoid causing significant damage to the ships hull or systems. Still, effective anti-personnel weapons with consistent, direct fire. Movement to her right caught Hundred's eye, the Syndarin retreated behind the cover of her drone, retreating into the far chamber. Perhaps she was a useless creature after all, Hundred mused. The magic of the moment was gone, in any case. Hundred turned her attentions elsewhere. The human, combat-medical officer had pulled the Thuboisii into cover turning his weapons to bear upon the turrets. He managed to disable one, drawing the attention of the other. Hundred frowned. The turrets were behaving from software. They had almost completely ignored her. She glared at the remaining turret, firing incessantly with a rapid whine. A burning, liquid anger rose in Hundred's throat. She growled low to herself. It offended her. It wasn't that the thing was trying to kill her or her fellow mercenaries. It wasn't that it's attention resources were not focused upon her. It was how pointless the exercise was. How utterly banal the entire affair was in comparison to the possibilities that had surge through her consciousness a scant, few moments ago. Hundred's wrist flexed. This was the end of enough. The Dust arrayed a portion of itself into a long black blade, similar to the one she had driven into the hull of the ship when she had tried to access the airlock, smaller in scale, but almost identical in function. A second iteration of the idea. Hundred sniffed with disdain, heavy, gloved fingers closing around the lance. She whipped her arm forwards, throwing the spear. The gravimetric control of the Dust adjusting to the flippant, untrained throw. The tip of the spinning spear connected with the base of the turret arresting it's motion vertical, in line with the center of the turret's housing socket. Hundred's fingers transcribed a small circle in the air, the Lance thrust into the machine, punching a small, but vital line through the center of the turret. In the fractions of a second that followed the penetration of the turret casing, the tip of the lance blossomed, a flow of compressed Dust injecting itself into the turrets circuitry. But Hundred was not interested in the simple, robust innervation of the security device. Dust flooded along the circuit lines, swift as signals. It skated along the q-bit, superconductive wiring, fast as thought, spreading throughout the local area circuitry. Hundred did not have a lot of time, she was frozen, her arm still outstretched, somato-tactile control switched over to point-to-point interfacing with the Dust. The remaining Dust cloud around her body slithered and shifted through the air, forging free-form circuits in the air that shifted constantly with her computations. Little golden sigils formed and flowed into one another in the air around Hundred, the only visible indicator of what she was trying to accomplish. If Hundred was correct, she would not have much time to accomplish her intentions. The Dust spindled and spread through as much of the internal ship circuitry as it could, it was beautiful, tracing the Lone Star's nervous system, an intricate, crystalline web of metal and mineral that gave the ship it's life. Hundred's supply of Dust dwindled, her mylination efforts slowed. She felt the commands firing through the network. No time. Hundred mutilated her little slice of the ship. The ships lights turned off for .023 seconds before popping back on. Hundred straightened. She moved slowly, as through carelessness could kill them all. Perhaps it would. She blinked rapidly, her eyes darting with similar frenetic energy around her field of vision. It was always difficult to reorient herself to the more singular perceptions of her 'natural' body. She slowly flexed her fingers and toes. She spoke over the comms in the silence that followed. "I have-" her voice cracked, Hundred paused and cleared her throat. "I have introduced a halting problem to the local area systems for this part of the ship and physically isolated it from the rest of the network." Her voice sounded alien to her ears. "The alternating compilation problem with the system could cease in this part of the ship and we should have no interference from agency in other parts of the vessel." She did not elaborate. Those that would understand a more detailed explanation would more efficaciously be informed by their own interactions with the ship. Those that did not were not worth her time. Hundred walked slowly towards the control room. She had not mentioned how uncertain it was that she could maintain the system isolation or lockdown, the Dust had physically severed the mainline connections with the central ship computers. Thousands of tiny segments of broken superconductive wire were floating around in the walls. But there could be no way of knowing yet whether the ship had the ability to repair such damage, or even if it was capable of identifying that such damage had been done. It did not matter. The brutal action had bought her time. Time to think. To plan. To observe and experiment upon the specimens of the ships computational software she had within her newly minted control conditions. A small, toothless smile returned to Hundred's lips as she stalked towards the control center. Possibilities blazed once more in her mind. She would get what she came for in this mission. Her thoughts only briefly noted the presence of her fellows. Perhaps she was be the only one.</s>	<\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name Inside the control room the damaged system displays suddenly went dead, the screen blanking out as their connection to the central computer core was cut. With no orders in place the ship's systems began to switch back to conservation mode, lights and life support powering down as the systems mistook the interruption as a ship-wide power down. Somewhere, several decks above the intruding party, a presence sensed the change in state, something which hadn't happened since its first awakening. While its mind didn't truly understand the concept a new sensation rushed through its form, a wave of pleasure and anticipation. Its brief contact with the Other had been exhilarating, and even now it could sense its influence growing beyond its own structure.</s>
<\|description\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name Party Roster Hundred Kira - @Tenish the Mighty - Docking Bay Control Room - Active Sevyn Spades - @TTwoThumbsUp - Docking Bay Control Room - Inactive Marga - @Bonjour xx - Docking Bay Control Room - Active Farvis Kren - @TheUnknowable - Docking Bay Access Corridor - Inactive Mez - @Kalas - Docking Bay Access Corridor - Inactive Simon Brewer - @DJAtomika - Docking Bay Control Room - Active James "JR" Rourke - @TheMadAsshatter - Retired Red hatched areas are currently exposed to space and inaccessible for characters not in full EVA gear. Character Sheet Race: Species or sub-species. No defined limits here so feel free to pick any species appearing in popular culture or just make up your own. If your race has any special inherent abilities please be sure to list them below. Appearance: A basic description of the character's overall appearance and common attire, or a photo reference if possible. Personality: Simple psychological profile for your character, giving details of their main motivations and outlook on life. Skills: An outline of the training and abilities of the character. These come in five levels of proficiency: Amateur, Proficient, Experienced, Skilled, Expert. I'd recommend limiting the character to a maximum of five skills with two class or profession skills, two general skills and one combat skill. For example a Mechanic might have Expert Engineering and Expert Mechanics as class skills, Skilled Driver and Experienced Salesman as general skills and Proficient Brawler as a combat skill. Non-standard Abilities: This section is for unique abilities for the character's species, as well as any personal abilities they may have. I'd recommend an absolute maximum of three of these, but would counsel for only one or two in most cases. Equipment: Here you should give details of the main pieces of equipment the character usually carries with them when going on a high-risk mission. I'd recommend taking one or two weapons, at least one piece of class or profession-specific equipment, a set of armour or protective clothing, some form of communications gear and any utility or survival gear you feel would be appropriate. Bio: A brief (two or three paragraph) history of the character detailing where they're from, their current life circumstances and their reason for being included on the mission. Quote: An example of something the character is likely to say, giving an insight into their personality and general life attitude.</s> <\|message\|>Hundred Kira Hundred bared her teeth as the Syndarin spoke. It was a smile. It did not just resemble one. It wasn't just with her teeth. Mirth reached her eyes. But there was something else in it. A bloody stain on the purity of the genuine smile. A brutality. Some awful anticipation glistened off of Hundred's teeth. The Syndarin was actually challenging her. In albeit an insipid and infantile way, but the brazen gall with which she did so sent an electric shiver through the faulty Gygan. Her mouth opened slightly to respond, so many possibilities whirling through her head and on her lips. Then the Syndarin spoke of the most beautiful thing Hundred could imagine. An explosion of excitement burst through Hundred's nervous system. Then the console exploded across her face. Hundred did not flinch. She regarded the melted ruins of the node. The smile remained. If anything, it only grew in intensity. She looked at the console, then back at the Syndarin. She looked like she was about to kiss the alien, or, perhaps, tear out her throat with her teeth. The smile on her face suggested that the two propositions were not exclusive. Hundred parted her teeth again to speak. A click, the gentle breathy sound of metals sliding across one another, nearly frictionless. The whine of auto-lasers. Now Hundred's smile shifted. No more warmth in the eyes. A snarl now. This ship had a most irritating sense of timing. The Dust reacted according to automated contingencies, reflexively contracting in the atmosphere around Hundred, reorienting themselves in response to the observed threat of the lasers. A small cloud of refractive particles was being generated around her to diminish the strength of any stray bolts that found themselves firing at Hundred, who remained still, crouched next to the panel. Her lips slipped over her teeth, the snarl becoming a more comfortable frown. She calmly watched the scattering barrage. The turrets were not exceptionally powerful, designed for suppression and to avoid causing significant damage to the ships hull or systems. Still, effective anti-personnel weapons with consistent, direct fire. Movement to her right caught Hundred's eye, the Syndarin retreated behind the cover of her drone, retreating into the far chamber. Perhaps she was a useless creature after all, Hundred mused. The magic of the moment was gone, in any case. Hundred turned her attentions elsewhere. The human, combat-medical officer had pulled the Thuboisii into cover turning his weapons to bear upon the turrets. He managed to disable one, drawing the attention of the other. Hundred frowned. The turrets were behaving from software. They had almost completely ignored her. She glared at the remaining turret, firing incessantly with a rapid whine. A burning, liquid anger rose in Hundred's throat. She growled low to herself. It offended her. It wasn't that the thing was trying to kill her or her fellow mercenaries. It wasn't that it's attention resources were not focused upon her. It was how pointless the exercise was. How utterly banal the entire affair was in comparison to the possibilities that had surge through her consciousness a scant, few moments ago. Hundred's wrist flexed. This was the end of enough. The Dust arrayed a portion of itself into a long black blade, similar to the one she had driven into the hull of the ship when she had tried to access the airlock, smaller in scale, but almost identical in function. A second iteration of the idea. Hundred sniffed with disdain, heavy, gloved fingers closing around the lance. She whipped her arm forwards, throwing the spear. The gravimetric control of the Dust adjusting to the flippant, untrained throw. The tip of the spinning spear connected with the base of the turret arresting it's motion vertical, in line with the center of the turret's housing socket. Hundred's fingers transcribed a small circle in the air, the Lance thrust into the machine, punching a small, but vital line through the center of the turret. In the fractions of a second that followed the penetration of the turret casing, the tip of the lance blossomed, a flow of compressed Dust injecting itself into the turrets circuitry. But Hundred was not interested in the simple, robust innervation of the security device. Dust flooded along the circuit lines, swift as signals. It skated along the q-bit, superconductive wiring, fast as thought, spreading throughout the local area circuitry. Hundred did not have a lot of time, she was frozen, her arm still outstretched, somato-tactile control switched over to point-to-point interfacing with the Dust. The remaining Dust cloud around her body slithered and shifted through the air, forging free-form circuits in the air that shifted constantly with her computations. Little golden sigils formed and flowed into one another in the air around Hundred, the only visible indicator of what she was trying to accomplish. If Hundred was correct, she would not have much time to accomplish her intentions. The Dust spindled and spread through as much of the internal ship circuitry as it could, it was beautiful, tracing the Lone Star's nervous system, an intricate, crystalline web of metal and mineral that gave the ship it's life. Hundred's supply of Dust dwindled, her mylination efforts slowed. She felt the commands firing through the network. No time. Hundred mutilated her little slice of the ship. The ships lights turned off for .023 seconds before popping back on. Hundred straightened. She moved slowly, as through carelessness could kill them all. Perhaps it would. She blinked rapidly, her eyes darting with similar frenetic energy around her field of vision. It was always difficult to reorient herself to the more singular perceptions of her 'natural' body. She slowly flexed her fingers and toes. She spoke over the comms in the silence that followed. "I have-" her voice cracked, Hundred paused and cleared her throat. "I have introduced a halting problem to the local area systems for this part of the ship and physically isolated it from the rest of the network." Her voice sounded alien to her ears. "The alternating compilation problem with the system could cease in this part of the ship and we should have no interference from agency in other parts of the vessel." She did not elaborate. Those that would understand a more detailed explanation would more efficaciously be informed by their own interactions with the ship. Those that did not were not worth her time. Hundred walked slowly towards the control room. She had not mentioned how uncertain it was that she could maintain the system isolation or lockdown, the Dust had physically severed the mainline connections with the central ship computers. Thousands of tiny segments of broken superconductive wire were floating around in the walls. But there could be no way of knowing yet whether the ship had the ability to repair such damage, or even if it was capable of identifying that such damage had been done. It did not matter. The brutal action had bought her time. Time to think. To plan. To observe and experiment upon the specimens of the ships computational software she had within her newly minted control conditions. A small, toothless smile returned to Hundred's lips as she stalked towards the control center. Possibilities blazed once more in her mind. She would get what she came for in this mission. Her thoughts only briefly noted the presence of her fellows. Perhaps she was be the only one.</s> <\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name Inside the control room the damaged system displays suddenly went dead, the screen blanking out as their connection to the central computer core was cut. With no orders in place the ship's systems began to switch back to conservation mode, lights and life support powering down as the systems mistook the interruption as a ship-wide power down. Somewhere, several decks above the intruding party, a presence sensed the change in state, something which hadn't happened since its first awakening. While its mind didn't truly understand the concept a new sensation rushed through its form, a wave of pleasure and anticipation. Its brief contact with the Other had been exhilarating, and even now it could sense its influence growing beyond its own structure.</s> <\|message\|>"Call me Marga" is how she's most likely to answer the question "what's your name?" Whether that's her real name or not remains unanswered. Marga ignored the commotion going on from where she was sheltered, examining her newly sustained wounds. Damn, laser burns hurt like a bitch - and they'd burned a hole right through her environmental suit to boot. It wasn't a particularly bad or large hole though, so with a bit of luck she could patch it up just fine. And with even a bit more luck they might be able to get the proper power back switched back onto the Lone Star. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but the environmental suit currently keeping the thief alive was also irritating her. It was very cumbersome and heavy. Without it she'd have been able to easily dive out of the way of those lasers. Marga cursed the bloody thing. Though why the lasers were still activated was beyond her. The possibilities were intriguing though - well, to a thief such as Marga they were anyway. The Shuttle Control Room had security to keep out miscreants, that she could understand, there was valuable equipment in there after all and tampering with it could potentially affect the safety of everyone on board. If you were to sabotage it, that was - again, she was approaching the situation like she would if she were planning to steal something. However, the ship was only now running on back-up power which the team had activated. The mystery as to where the turrets were getting their power from was puzzling - and why? Surely there were more important rooms than this one to divert power to in an emergency or black-out situation. Marga mused on this thought for a while. Perhaps there was something of value inside the Shuttle Control Room? Odd place to stash something worth stealing, but the experienced thief had seen odder. Well, only one way to find out. Pushing herself to her feet and letting out more curses, Marga walked into the room. She surveyed it like she was preforming a heist. She grinned, anticipation rising at what she might come across.</s> <\|message\|>Simon Brewer Simon breathed a sigh of relief as the turrets powered down. He peeked out of his cover and them got out the full way as Marga and Hundred went ahead, presumably to scout the way. He hung back a little to let them advance; the Gygan was suitably armed to handle everything thrown at them thus far, so he felt safe, at least, for now. Sevyn was there too, fiddling with a console as the party entered the next room. With rifle lowered he flipped up the faceplate of his armour to give the room a slow scan. "Optics, full scan. Repeat previous." Then, to the rest of the group (or anyone that would listen), he threw out another question. "Anyone hurt?" He knew Marga was wounded, but the painkillers in the medigel he had applied would've no doubt kicked in by now, so he didn't worry as much. Hopefully they'd get somewhere productive this time instead of constantly running into danger like headless chickens. He hoped.</s>	<\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name "Optics, full scan. Repeat previous." Simon's HUD quickly began to filter through various colours as the scanners took in every detail they could. The party's entrance had disturbed the air in the previously sealed room and dust particles danced in the lights from the emergency overhead fixtures. Unlike the parts of the ship they'd seen so far the control room was virtually untouched, apart from the gun-shot control console. Mugs of congealed beverages rested on the work surface and several pairs of overalls worker's hung at the back of the room, almost as if their owners had only just stepped out and would be back any minute, even though the ship had been deserted for years. Across from the armoured viewport the scanner noted a row of security lockers, their access pads disabled due to lack of power. Everything else seemed dead and dormant, the loss of power having cut off all functions in the consoles, whose monitors now lay dark and empty. The scanner chimed a warning as it picked up organic residue on the console. A window opened on Simon's display identifying human blood, the data quickly trying to match it against any known individuals but finally giving up and simply reporting that the blood type was AR+, which meant the person injured had been of a mixed species background, not that it mattered anymore. Even if they'd survived whatever injury had left their blood behind they'd most likely have died of exposure well before the party's arrival. Continuing its survey the scanner pinged off various data ports and power sockets arrayed along the console, signs of heavy use and regular maintenance having been performed right up until the chamber had been sealed. WHatever had happened here it had been sudden and dramatic, driving the crew from their posts before anything could be done to secure the terminals.</s>
<\|description\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name Party Roster Hundred Kira - @Tenish the Mighty - Docking Bay Control Room - Active Sevyn Spades - @TTwoThumbsUp - Docking Bay Control Room - Inactive Marga - @Bonjour xx - Docking Bay Control Room - Active Farvis Kren - @TheUnknowable - Docking Bay Access Corridor - Inactive Mez - @Kalas - Docking Bay Access Corridor - Inactive Simon Brewer - @DJAtomika - Docking Bay Control Room - Active James "JR" Rourke - @TheMadAsshatter - Retired Red hatched areas are currently exposed to space and inaccessible for characters not in full EVA gear. Character Sheet Race: Species or sub-species. No defined limits here so feel free to pick any species appearing in popular culture or just make up your own. If your race has any special inherent abilities please be sure to list them below. Appearance: A basic description of the character's overall appearance and common attire, or a photo reference if possible. Personality: Simple psychological profile for your character, giving details of their main motivations and outlook on life. Skills: An outline of the training and abilities of the character. These come in five levels of proficiency: Amateur, Proficient, Experienced, Skilled, Expert. I'd recommend limiting the character to a maximum of five skills with two class or profession skills, two general skills and one combat skill. For example a Mechanic might have Expert Engineering and Expert Mechanics as class skills, Skilled Driver and Experienced Salesman as general skills and Proficient Brawler as a combat skill. Non-standard Abilities: This section is for unique abilities for the character's species, as well as any personal abilities they may have. I'd recommend an absolute maximum of three of these, but would counsel for only one or two in most cases. Equipment: Here you should give details of the main pieces of equipment the character usually carries with them when going on a high-risk mission. I'd recommend taking one or two weapons, at least one piece of class or profession-specific equipment, a set of armour or protective clothing, some form of communications gear and any utility or survival gear you feel would be appropriate. Bio: A brief (two or three paragraph) history of the character detailing where they're from, their current life circumstances and their reason for being included on the mission. Quote: An example of something the character is likely to say, giving an insight into their personality and general life attitude.</s> <\|message\|>Hundred Kira Phantom sensation. That was what it was. Phantom sensations from limbs Hundred did not have. Had Hundred ever had any limbs? She shook her head like a pack animal. Of course she had limbs. She had the same arrangement of limbs as most ambulatory, sentient species of the galaxy. This wasn't anything new. After such an intimate utilization of the Dust it was always difficult to reorient her senses with the rote material. Hundred placed a hand on the bulkhead to her left, pausing in her progression. She was not dizzy. The feel of the solid section of superstructure was steadying regardless. Hundred closed her eyes and swallowed. It did not normally take her this long to adjust. But then, she had rarely ever attempted such an expansive test of her Dusts' capacities before. Hundred hummed thoughtfully to herself. Stead. Certain. Hundred continued to the control room. Looking around the sepulchral chamber Hundred frowned. There was a story here. Violence always had a tale to tell. The Dust tasted of the blood. It told her that it was made mostly of iron. She hummed again. She was not terribly interested in what the blood had to say. Give her the ions of computational systems over the carbon of the dead. Hundred assessed her Dust reserves. She was spread thin. Her tactics seemed successful, but it had left her greatly diminished in reach and grasp. But she had enough. Moving towards one of the terminals, Hundred extended her hands over the control pylon like a shaman of some failed culture. Flexing her fingers the Dust descended upon the terminal, slithering between casings and keys, running along it's internal circuitry similar to, but much more carefully than, it had with the main lines. As it moved along the circuits, identifying it's structure, motes of Dust coalesced at certain junctures, building microprocessors to interface with the ships systems in novel and useful ways for Hundred's purposes. Building her own access point Hundred allowed her systems to connect with the terminals data. A jolt. Hundred physically jumped, almost imperceptibly as she connected to the system. Also an unusually heightened response. Hundred tasked some SIs to perform a diagnostic on her internal interface hardware and software. Her attention turned to the data. It was beautiful. It was shoddy. It was dense and shallow. It was familiar. Hundred's frown deepened. Familiar? Why? She dove deeper into the terminals backlog of data. No, it wasn't it's contents. That was as the Syndarian had described, like a river frozen mid flow, it was an exquisite, curving collection of data that swirled and shaped itself in an almost illogical pattern as it had shifted as if in response to the intrusion of their attempted access. Hundred could spend months pouring over the dynamics of the way the code transposed itself. But that was not what had garnered her attention. It was not the data in the system. It was not the river. It was the riverbed. The architecture of the system. Sophisticated yet simple. Not the frankensteinian monstrosities of most modern system design, meant for high fungibility and user friendliness. This was custom work, yes, but it was not just designed, as most custom jobs were, for personal tastes and efficiency. It was not an efficient system. It served it's purpose perhaps, but that seemed like a necessary contrivance. All of the systems and subroutines afforded to ship function seemed ancillary. The system seemed designed for massive transference of data. More communications hub than ship system. Like a intragalactic server system. That was what was so familiar. It was like her own systems, back when she was still a branded slave-spawn of the Consortium. The massive processing power distributed over such a large area. Hundred had used them to generate the compression necessary to produce emergent AI. But this system was not the same. Similar, yes, but Hundred's systems were more foundry space. This system seemed smaller, more streamlined. Like a private repair slip. Something blared in the back of Hundred's mind, clawing at her attentional resources. Hundred hummed thoughtfully and pulled away from the system. She was slightly surprised to see it was not her diagnostic tasked SI, but rather her biostatic overwatch systems which drew her attention. A backlog of attenuated requests for system maintenance greeted her. Hundred frowned more. Tissue death. Inflammation. Overextension of ligatures and a dozen other anomalous reports of damaged sensory equipment and necessary physical repair and calibration events. Hundred hummed a soft growl, her systems could not self-repair, at least not at a rate that was satisfactory. "Medic. I require your aid." She said simply over the comm. Breathing out, Hundred shut her eyes again. The Dust remaining around her person obeyed new commands. The fluid layer of Dust that constituted the majority of her suits frenzied into motion. Disengaged from their normal non-newtonian behavior, the Dust flooded to the suit seals, unraveling the seams. Her suit seemed to slit along her flanks, peeling and slithering away from her body, curling up into itself, it folded into her gloves, boots, and mantled collar, exposing her flesh for examination. Mostly naked now, Hundred turned her attention back to the terminal in front of her. The doctor had all the access to her body that he would need for basic medical treatment, she trusted the man to do his job. Her focus was not on whatever he would do to her. Instead she started to dissect the backlog of system behavior in the terminal, trying to parse what had been done to it preceding the teams arrival. Some artifacts of what had happened aboard the ship must remain in the record, Hundred would have them. She let the q-bits fill her processors and brain space. She hummed thoughtfully.</s> <\|message\|>Simon Brewer "You got it." Simon walked up from his place near the rear of the group, stowing his rifle carefully on his front rigging. A cursory scan with his optics indicated that yes, the Gygan was in need of medical attention, though which parts he would need to use medigel and which parts to solder...were not familiar to him. "Hundred, I assume your internal mechanisms can repair themselves with that Dust of yours? For I am unsure of how to treat your more...mechanical injuries. Otherwise, stand still so I can do my work." With her standing straight and still, he ran his optics over her proper, a deeper system scan that ran head to toe to identify injuries, of which she had several. Firstly, all the bruising and inflammation of flesh from the impacts of fragments of the asteroid belt they'd nearly perished in. Secondly, the burns and bruising from when she'd been hit by the explosion of JR's grenade back outside the Lone Star. There was also some stress damage to her legs; torn and stressed ligaments and tendons, bruised flesh and even some minor fractures (if she had any bones, that is). "Alright, actually I need you to lie down for this. On your chest, preferably. I require access to the backs of your knees and ankles." Once she did that, he drew a little gadget that looked and was the size of an average pen. With a click of the back end, a small laser was emitted from its tip. He twisted it and the laser's intensity lowered. With his other hand he grabbed a small spray bottle from his back rigging. "Hundred, I'm going to numb your legs so that I can cut into your flesh. Once I'm done with that, I will be applying medigel to your injured areas, including your bones. I will require you to keep your legs and hips still during this process." He knelt down and flipped his faceplate back on. With his laser cutter in his right hand and spray bottle in his left, he drew in close to the Gygan's lower half. His first step: spraying the backs of her legs with the bottle. The topical disinfectant and anaesthetic within acted quickly, seeping into her flesh and numbing it, along with removing any chance of foreign infection from the outside air or substances that she'd been in contact with. Next, he drew his cutter horizontally down the lengths of her legs and gently drew the flesh open with his fingers. He'd never been familiar with Gygan biology, but upon seeing similarities to human physiology, he was silently pleased. With his optics he found several hairline fractures in her tibia and fibula's shafts, along with more severe breakages at her ankle joints, as if she'd been violently slammed feet-first onto something hard. He didn't really know, he'd been too busy fighting for his life for the past few minutes to have noticed her movements. The flesh around these breakages was injured; inflammed, some bleeding, thankfully no damage to any major blood vessels, including the ones that ran down the inners of her thighs. If those were cut, she would've died possibly, unless her more mechanical physiology would've stopped it. He drew a tube of medigel from his back and popped the top. With a squeeze he laid out half the tube inside her left leg, and the other half in her right. Then he gently pushed the flesh closed with his fingers before using his cutter to cauterise the cuts, sealing them back up while the gel within went to work re-knitting her bones and healing her flesh. Simon reattached the empty tube to his back rigging and stood. "Alright, that's done. You can re...uh, restitch your garments now, but do not move your legs for about five minutes. Give the gel some time to heal you." He flipped up his faceplate, a small smile gracing his face. "Well then, at least that's done with."</s>	<\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name As the nanotech went to work the consoles began to stutter with life, drawing power from Hundred's systems while still cut off from the central core by some mechanical means further into the ship than the Gygan would be able to reach from this lower deck without extending all of her Dust into infiltrating the maze of wires and network connections, or lack thereof, between there and the control room she was physically inhabiting. A surge of data flowed from the local back-up memory drive, files and reports covering over two years of continuous operation, most of which seemed trivially mundane and repetitive. An odd report or mislabelled link flagged up on Hundred's display every few seconds, only to be whisked away just as quickly as her search algorithms identified them as on-going activities or explainable damage suffered as part of the ship's journey. As the algorithms closed in on the last days before the ship had fallen silent more and more of these seemingly trivial repair reports began to pile up and the algorithms began to compile a list. At first the faults seemed random; the temperature in a crewman's quarters turning freezing while he slept causing hypothermia, grav plating cutting out in the middle of a cargo transfer leading to the lose of some non-vital supplies, food replicators defaulting to producing only chilled tomato soup and other such minor mishaps. Scanning back through the records the algorithms found the earliest of these anomalous events had occurred not long after a shuttle whose previous destination and departure details had been erased from the system had docked with the Lone Star. Immediately the algorithms centred on the event, interrogating the system for any information on the shuttle that was available, but apart from the basic registration and identification details of the craft itself all other requests for data were pinged to the central computer, which at present was showing as disconnected from access. Flagging the shuttle for future analysis the algorithms moved on, once again scanning the data files for anything of note until reaching the final recorded entries. A video file crackled into life on one of the damaged screen, the sound muted and illegible, showing a group of crewmembers rushing into the control room while bursts of light, possibly gunshots or explosions, flashed in the doorway behind them. The group were all armed apart from one woman hiding in the middle of them as if being escorted or guarded. In her arms was what appeared to be a large box of some kind which she hugged to her chest tightly while the rest of the party spread out around the room. One of the men, a larger man with subtly different armour from the others, an officer perhaps, moved to access the control panel. After several seconds he began hitting the console with the butt of his rifle before turning the weapon round and firing several shots into the terminal. The woman with the box stepped forwards, apparently angered by the man's actions before her attention was called back out into the corridor. A moment later the party swarmed back out of the room as quickly as they'd entered, heading off elsewhere. Further systems logs recorded the departure of a shuttle a few minutes later, the same one which seemed to have caused all the troubles on-board the ship, but no information was available as to who was piloting the small craft, or what its cargo could've been.</s>
<\|description\|>"Call me Marga" is how she's most likely to answer the question "what's your name?" Whether that's her real name or not remains unanswered. Race: Marga's brother tells her that his best guess on her lineage would be half-human, a man from one of the space colonies probably, and then of course their absent mother. Their mother came from a race of people called the Thuboisii that travel the various galaxies, intent on expanding their people's knowledge and understanding in all matters. Marga has inherited some features of the Thuboisii from her maternal genes. Her mind processes information quick and puzzles or problems present themselves to her easily, allowing her to find solutions rapidly. Similarly, her five senses are heightened beyond that of a full-breed human. Appearance: Marga's physical appearance differs very little from that of a regular human. Though perhaps shorter than average, standing at only 5'5, most of the time she is indistinguishable from the human race. However, when experiencing emotions in their extremes such as anger, arousal or sadness, her skin changes colour to the characteristic light blue and intricate patterning of the Thuboisii people. She has little to no control over the change. Personality: Marga's personality is best described as feline for the most part. She observes those around her with a demeanour of having little interest or care in their goings on, however she is quietly cataloguing information that may be valuable to her at a later date. Furthermore, like a feline, Marga does not exactly do "friendly" all too well. Be sure that when the mood takes her or the situation arises, she can be completely charming and charismatic, often talking her way out of a dangerous situation or likewise, talking her way into someone's interests. Manipulation of people's emotions is easy for Marga. When she sees an opening in a person's metaphorical armour, she pounces on the opportunity given to her. Extracting people's secrets from them without them even realising that they are giving them away is the art form of a grifter - and Marga is no doubt one of the best. Indeed, she enjoys exercising her skills of manipulation and persuasion when given the chance, be this by deception, intimidation or seduction. Marga's own emotions are not kept in check all too well. While she can act pious and meek, those adjectives are not what anyone who knew the young woman would use to describe her. She sees most insults as a challenge - a character fault which has led her into trouble more than once. Ever eager to prove she as earned her place among her fellow pirates, thieves and bandits by her own merit and skill and not by warming the leaders' beds, she can be rather reckless. Marga takes the outlook on life that it is very person for themselves. Though she has her brother, she does not do herself the disservice of relying on him too much for the day may come when they are no longer together. Each person's demons and troubles are their own problem. If they fall beneath the weight and darkness of them, so be it. If a person is not useful to her, they are dispensable and that is just the way of the worlds. As a result, she constantly fears someone better replacing her role in the band of thieves she belongs to. Skills: Marga's hard-earned place in her band of thieves is secure for the moment as she hasn't come across anyone who can exceed her infiltration skills. Whereas the tactic of others is to go in all guns blazing and take over a ship by force, Marga adopts a much more stealthier approach. Locked doors are no obstacle for her, whether she is locked out or in, as she is an expert hacker and lock-picker. Her methods of infiltration involve sabotage - rot a ship from the inside out without anyone even realising she was there. Then, her fellow thieves can attack a weakened and distressed vessel. Another skill Marga could be considered an expert in is explosives. While she is light of foot and generally can either avoid or hack security systems, being detected can sometimes be a problem. Her plan B in such situations for a successful getaway are her trusty explosives. BOOM. Marga is rather proficient in such areas of climbing, abseiling and squeezing/crawling through tight spaces like air vents as her much smaller size and flexibility allows her to do this. Her heightened senses also give her improved hand-to-eye co-ordination. Where she lacks skill is in hand-to-hand combat and knowledge of various weaponry. Her solution when faced with such confrontation is to escape the immediate situation and recalculate her next move. Physically she is not much of an opponent, but intellectually she can bring a man to his knees. Non-standard Abilities: Marga cannot recite to you great works of literature or poetry, but give her an untracked algorithm and she'll break it for you quicker than you thought possible. The Thuboisii have a superior brain in terms of intelligence and storage capacity than that of a lot of other races as they have unlocked more parts of the brain than most. While Marga does not posses the full extent of these attributes, she has an eidetic memory and an ability to pick up information and instructions fast. Equipment: Goggles (see appearance): Marga's googles can pick up changes in temperature (helpful in detecting a person's body heat) and traces of various elements. They are essentially a data base and are excellent when tracking a chemical signature of either a specific race or item. Explosives and Mask (see appearance): Not all of the explosives Marga constructs are simply made to go boom. There are flash grenades made to blind and stun people; small, localised charges made to block passageways; smoke bombs made to provide cover and toxic or chemical bombs made for various purposes but most regularly to render a room of people unconscious. Her specialised mask allows her to breath and not experience any of the effects from her explosives. Lock-picking and hacking equipment: Old school and high tech, Marga can turn her hand to both. Taser gun (see appearance): Located on her left hand, Marga's taser looks deceptively like a rather nasty knuckle duster. However, the sheer amount of voltage fired from the small taser gun is enough to render nearly all species unconscious. Depending on the quality of an opponent's armour, they are not always left unconscious but will experience something similar to having received a blow to the head or having been drugged. The taser is accurate over a range of fifteen feet, any more and results vary considerably. Bio: Marga was primarily raised by her much older brother, Caael, who is also half Thuboisii. Her brother's other half is unknown but is most certainly not human. Marga's mother left her with her brother because to the Thuboisii, nothing is more important than the pursuit of knowledge - even family. Given that neither child showed the promise or desire to gather knowledge and intelligence from the universe, they were abandoned. This is not an uncommon trait of the Thuboisii. Marga's brother was already an established member of a group of thieves when Marga was unceremoniously left in his care. His skill as a pilot had earned him a place among one of the most exclusive criminal groups which was compromised of various experts from across the galaxies. Instead of leaving her behind, Caael established a bond with the young child left in his care and brought her into the fold. Growing up surrounded by pirates, bandits and thieves, Marga's path in life was unsurprising. Though, her rising beyond being a standard crew member to an essential and trusted member of the inner circle was. What led Marga to becoming a member of the team breaching the Lone Star was a botched heist. She and several other members of the infamous group of thieves called the Armada were captured by the United Alliance Navy. Contrary to the saying, there is little honour amongst thieves and so, upon learning on the unique skills Marga possessed, she was given the choice between following her fellow crew members in their executions or joining a task force being sent to explore the Lone Star. Marga chose the later and began planning her escape. Well, that and her revenge. Being a saboteur herself, she could tell that her captured had not being accidental. Quote: "Whatever isn't bolted down is my business. If I can sell it, spend it or trade with it, it's as good as already mine. And if I don't get caught, I deserve everything I steal." ******************** FYI, Though this isn't a primary focus of the story, I'm open to romance with this character if anyone is interested.</s> <\|message\|>Farvis Kren Farvis opened the storage locker and grabbed a shotgun and several extra rounds, then put on a space suit and comm system from the same locker. The medical suit he was wearing could withstand the pressure change and had its own air processing system, but it lacked the ability to heat itself, making it of limited use as a space suit. He activated the force field helmet on his medical suit for extra protection and made his way across the umbilical. He was contemplating how to get the inner hatch open when someone decided to just melt the hinges with a plasma weapon. "Are you just going to keep melting through every locked door?" he asked. "We need to equalize pressure in here. Not all of us can survive indefinitely in the vacuum of space, you know. Everyone needs to get inside so that we can reseal the door behind us, probably by welding in in place with more plasma fire." He entered the room they had just blown there way into, pushing his way past the others if he had to, and went over to the only locker that hadn't been ransacked yet, probably because of the damage to it. To get it open, though, he was going to have to damage it even more. Hopefully it was built like most lockers, and only made of thin metal, otherwise this would hurt. He increased his adrenaline level to Alpha-state levels and punched the center of the locker door. Hopefully the door would bend enough to break whatever minor welding the heat damage had caused and break the locker open.</s> <\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name As soon as Farvis's hand slammed through the thin metal door of the locker he felt sharp claws grabbing at his wrist, cutting easily through his space suit but catching on his sterile suit beneath. Luckily the added protection from the outer armour was enough to prevent any worse damage, but he could still feel the sharp tine sawing its way through the nano-tube reinforced material far more quickly than a conventional blade should be able to.</s> <\|message\|>Sevyn Spades Jemini had the good sense to stay quiet as the Syndarin mentally screamed in her head as she worked desperately to open the door. Her emotions were playing too much with the adrenaline she depended on to stay calm and cool in high tense situations such as this, though usually she had a team behind her back that she could trust and she often had the blessing of being blissfully unaware of the true precariousness of her situations. Unfortunately the misfits Sevyn had found herself with had no respect or no knowledge of how ships were constructed (at least the mercenaries asked her first if it was safe to blow something up), were too focused on baiting and antagonizing each other rather than focusing on the mission (at least the mercenaries she was with waited until after the job was done), psychopathic killers (at least the mercen... well okay her people were essentially a race of repressed psychopaths so she didn't really have anything to counter for this one), or some ungodly combination of all three. She also added "sticking hands into places they shouldn't be" to the list, judging from the sounds behind her, though she admitted that she fell amazingly well into that category. The pilot announcing that he had to leave soon and fast did nothing to help Sevyn's nerves, pounding at the impossible door once in frustration. The nearby console beeped on almost immediately after. Sevyn briefly entertained the possibly of her being capable of great and powerful technomagic before jumping onto the console and began working furiously to activate the manual override. Unfortunately the flashy user-friendly interface shut down the moment the Syndarin touched the screen which made her think of what terrible gifts she was now in control of before the screen rebooted back on, only to now show the base code. The language the code was written in had been cutting edge when the Lone Star was first built, written specifically for it if Sevyn remembered correctly, and it was so impossibly difficult to work with that it was never released to the general public. In fact it still wasn't, and is only used in the most top of the line military software. Of course that didn't stop Sevyn from getting her grubby little hands on it and while programming certainly wasn't her best skill, she sure as hell didn't want to be blown out of the airlock. Although, perhaps it didn't bode well when Sevyn realized she still had trouble working with the code and she didn't exactly know what she was manually overriding.</s> <\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name A grinding howl echoed through the shuttle and the status board lit up with warnings as Felix swore loudly into his mike. "Oh shit! Whatever you guys are doing you'd better hurry up. One of the big rocks just grazed my starboard engine pod and almost killed us all!"</s>	<\|message\|>"Call me Marga" is how she's most likely to answer the question "what's your name?" Whether that's her real name or not remains unanswered. Marga walked passed Farvis as he approached the locker that looked welded shut. As curious as she was to its contents, she figured she'd let Farvis take the risk of opening it. Then if she liked what was inside, she'd just take it - well, eventually anyway. The special environmental suit she had taken from the shuttle felt strange on her person. Unused to wearing such things as they tended to slow one down and limit one's abilities, Marga hoped there would be enough power left in the ship to enable them to activate the basic life support functions. She did note however, that the grip the suit allowed her to maintain on the floor was a point in its favour. The thief was quietly adjusting her small taser gun onto the outside of her suit and pondering how they were going to get the Gygan inside the Lone Star with them when she spotted the Syndarian who had introduced herself as Seyvn Spades standing in front of a console clearly meant for opening the next door. Having preformed a bit of work in that neck of the woods before, Marga had heard of Sevyn's impressive reputation as a pilot and made a mental note to ask for some pointers from her once this was all over. For now though, Marga knew there were more pressing matters to attend to - like the fact that they were all about to become space mush in under thirty seconds if they didn't open the aforementioned door. "Not to brag, but codes, algorithms and cracking them are sort of my thing, love," Marga said, coming to stand next to the Syndarian. "Right, let's see what we're dealing with."</s>
<\|description\|>"Call me Marga" is how she's most likely to answer the question "what's your name?" Whether that's her real name or not remains unanswered. Race: Marga's brother tells her that his best guess on her lineage would be half-human, a man from one of the space colonies probably, and then of course their absent mother. Their mother came from a race of people called the Thuboisii that travel the various galaxies, intent on expanding their people's knowledge and understanding in all matters. Marga has inherited some features of the Thuboisii from her maternal genes. Her mind processes information quick and puzzles or problems present themselves to her easily, allowing her to find solutions rapidly. Similarly, her five senses are heightened beyond that of a full-breed human. Appearance: Marga's physical appearance differs very little from that of a regular human. Though perhaps shorter than average, standing at only 5'5, most of the time she is indistinguishable from the human race. However, when experiencing emotions in their extremes such as anger, arousal or sadness, her skin changes colour to the characteristic light blue and intricate patterning of the Thuboisii people. She has little to no control over the change. Personality: Marga's personality is best described as feline for the most part. She observes those around her with a demeanour of having little interest or care in their goings on, however she is quietly cataloguing information that may be valuable to her at a later date. Furthermore, like a feline, Marga does not exactly do "friendly" all too well. Be sure that when the mood takes her or the situation arises, she can be completely charming and charismatic, often talking her way out of a dangerous situation or likewise, talking her way into someone's interests. Manipulation of people's emotions is easy for Marga. When she sees an opening in a person's metaphorical armour, she pounces on the opportunity given to her. Extracting people's secrets from them without them even realising that they are giving them away is the art form of a grifter - and Marga is no doubt one of the best. Indeed, she enjoys exercising her skills of manipulation and persuasion when given the chance, be this by deception, intimidation or seduction. Marga's own emotions are not kept in check all too well. While she can act pious and meek, those adjectives are not what anyone who knew the young woman would use to describe her. She sees most insults as a challenge - a character fault which has led her into trouble more than once. Ever eager to prove she as earned her place among her fellow pirates, thieves and bandits by her own merit and skill and not by warming the leaders' beds, she can be rather reckless. Marga takes the outlook on life that it is very person for themselves. Though she has her brother, she does not do herself the disservice of relying on him too much for the day may come when they are no longer together. Each person's demons and troubles are their own problem. If they fall beneath the weight and darkness of them, so be it. If a person is not useful to her, they are dispensable and that is just the way of the worlds. As a result, she constantly fears someone better replacing her role in the band of thieves she belongs to. Skills: Marga's hard-earned place in her band of thieves is secure for the moment as she hasn't come across anyone who can exceed her infiltration skills. Whereas the tactic of others is to go in all guns blazing and take over a ship by force, Marga adopts a much more stealthier approach. Locked doors are no obstacle for her, whether she is locked out or in, as she is an expert hacker and lock-picker. Her methods of infiltration involve sabotage - rot a ship from the inside out without anyone even realising she was there. Then, her fellow thieves can attack a weakened and distressed vessel. Another skill Marga could be considered an expert in is explosives. While she is light of foot and generally can either avoid or hack security systems, being detected can sometimes be a problem. Her plan B in such situations for a successful getaway are her trusty explosives. BOOM. Marga is rather proficient in such areas of climbing, abseiling and squeezing/crawling through tight spaces like air vents as her much smaller size and flexibility allows her to do this. Her heightened senses also give her improved hand-to-eye co-ordination. Where she lacks skill is in hand-to-hand combat and knowledge of various weaponry. Her solution when faced with such confrontation is to escape the immediate situation and recalculate her next move. Physically she is not much of an opponent, but intellectually she can bring a man to his knees. Non-standard Abilities: Marga cannot recite to you great works of literature or poetry, but give her an untracked algorithm and she'll break it for you quicker than you thought possible. The Thuboisii have a superior brain in terms of intelligence and storage capacity than that of a lot of other races as they have unlocked more parts of the brain than most. While Marga does not posses the full extent of these attributes, she has an eidetic memory and an ability to pick up information and instructions fast. Equipment: Goggles (see appearance): Marga's googles can pick up changes in temperature (helpful in detecting a person's body heat) and traces of various elements. They are essentially a data base and are excellent when tracking a chemical signature of either a specific race or item. Explosives and Mask (see appearance): Not all of the explosives Marga constructs are simply made to go boom. There are flash grenades made to blind and stun people; small, localised charges made to block passageways; smoke bombs made to provide cover and toxic or chemical bombs made for various purposes but most regularly to render a room of people unconscious. Her specialised mask allows her to breath and not experience any of the effects from her explosives. Lock-picking and hacking equipment: Old school and high tech, Marga can turn her hand to both. Taser gun (see appearance): Located on her left hand, Marga's taser looks deceptively like a rather nasty knuckle duster. However, the sheer amount of voltage fired from the small taser gun is enough to render nearly all species unconscious. Depending on the quality of an opponent's armour, they are not always left unconscious but will experience something similar to having received a blow to the head or having been drugged. The taser is accurate over a range of fifteen feet, any more and results vary considerably. Bio: Marga was primarily raised by her much older brother, Caael, who is also half Thuboisii. Her brother's other half is unknown but is most certainly not human. Marga's mother left her with her brother because to the Thuboisii, nothing is more important than the pursuit of knowledge - even family. Given that neither child showed the promise or desire to gather knowledge and intelligence from the universe, they were abandoned. This is not an uncommon trait of the Thuboisii. Marga's brother was already an established member of a group of thieves when Marga was unceremoniously left in his care. His skill as a pilot had earned him a place among one of the most exclusive criminal groups which was compromised of various experts from across the galaxies. Instead of leaving her behind, Caael established a bond with the young child left in his care and brought her into the fold. Growing up surrounded by pirates, bandits and thieves, Marga's path in life was unsurprising. Though, her rising beyond being a standard crew member to an essential and trusted member of the inner circle was. What led Marga to becoming a member of the team breaching the Lone Star was a botched heist. She and several other members of the infamous group of thieves called the Armada were captured by the United Alliance Navy. Contrary to the saying, there is little honour amongst thieves and so, upon learning on the unique skills Marga possessed, she was given the choice between following her fellow crew members in their executions or joining a task force being sent to explore the Lone Star. Marga chose the later and began planning her escape. Well, that and her revenge. Being a saboteur herself, she could tell that her captured had not being accidental. Quote: "Whatever isn't bolted down is my business. If I can sell it, spend it or trade with it, it's as good as already mine. And if I don't get caught, I deserve everything I steal." ******************** FYI, Though this isn't a primary focus of the story, I'm open to romance with this character if anyone is interested.</s> <\|message\|>Farvis Kren Farvis opened his eyes to see the doctor standing over him. "Trying to give me Last Rights, Doctor?" he said. "I'm not Catholic and I'm not dead yet. Thank you for the healing, though." He felt the would on his head repair itself. "Gotta love medigel." When he sat up he grabbed a syringe of stem cells from his kit and laid them on a glowing section the cellular programmer he carried them in. "Still a bit of a concussion. Mind if I use a few stem cells to fix any neural damage?" Without waiting for a reply he told the machine to set program them to mimic human neurons, then injected them into himself. Pulling the needle out, he looked around. "So, I was out for a bit so I've got a few questions. One, who rescued me? I need to thank them. Two, does anyone know which way I need to go to get to the medical bay, as we obviously need to set up quickly? And three, WHO THE HELL THOUGHT IT WAS A GOOD IDEA TO SET OFF AN EXPLOSION IN THE AIRLOCK? I ALMOST DIED!" He shouted the last bit, hoping that whoever that idiot was would realize how stupid they were for doing it. What were they thinking? Explosions in close proximity to others in an enclosed space?</s> <\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name In a sudden burst of sparks and plastic components the terminal under Sevyn's fingers suddenly exploded in her face, almost as if someone had intentionally directed a pulse through the ship's systems to deliberately prevent her from activating anything other than the lights.</s>	<\|message\|>"Call me Marga" is how she's most likely to answer the question "what's your name?" Whether that's her real name or not remains unanswered. Marga rolled her eyes at Farvis' outburst, noting gladly that there appeared to be no worse injury than some nasty looking tissue damage and a concussion - which both doctors promptly took care of anyway. Marga stood up, pleased that the situation had been dealt with. Normally she wouldn't have been the one to help out a fellow teammate - and especially not an injured one at that. However the circumstances here were very different from a mission with the Armada. With these people, half of whom were strangers, there was no law that stated that any man who fell behind would be left behind - at least, Marga thought, no one had voiced such a notion. Furthermore, having two trained medical professionals was bound to come in extremely useful given how the team was barely in the Lone Star's front door and had already suffered casualties and fatalities. Looking over to where Mez stood further down the corridor, Marga wasn't so sure what would happen to her if she were that aforementioned person unlucky enough to fall behind. Then again, there was that moment right before and immediately following the bomb going off earlier. Unconsciously, the thief's feet had started leading her over to where the Visipian was standing, hand poised on his gun. When Marga noticed this, she spun on her heel and quickly diverted her attention to the nearest possible thing. This just happened to be the door with writing on it that read 'Shuttle Control Room'. Hoping her earlier actions hadn't been caught by Mez, Marga ran her palm up and down the center of the door. She knocked against the metal a few times too, testing it. Her findings didn't shock her. The door was heavily reinforced, but clearly wasn't designed to outsmart thieves. The middle of the door held the solution to opening it. Marga knocked on this part of the entrance a few more times before she was satisfied, then she opened the messenger-style bad that was slung over her shoulder and started rooting around in its depths. After a few moments of searching, Marga pulled out what looked to be a type of grenade and then a vial of fluorescent purple liquid. Marga popped open the vial and poured the liquid along the edges of the armoured panels that were located down the middle of the Shuttle Control Room's door. Then, the thief expertly and carefully picked apart the grenade and sprinkled its contents over where she had poured the colourful liquid. Grinning, Marga stepped back and watched as the chemicals reacted to effectively melt through the amoured panel, which when Marga stepped forward and tugged at it, fell away easily, revealing six heavy-duty locks beneath it. Marga nodded, more to herself than anyone, then preceded to crack her knuckles. It was an unconscious habit she had before she attempted picking locks, one she'd had for years now. Marga worked silently on the locks, carefully twisted the tumblers this way and that, hoping to hit their sweet spots. It didn't take too long and one by one, a satisfying click was heard from each of them. The thief stood up from where she'd been crouching as she worked on the last lock and took a step back, bumping into a familiar body. Jumping slightly, Marga cleared her throat and stepped to the side. "Anybody want to do the honours?" she asked, referring to pushing or pulling the heavy door open now that she had unlocked it. Well, she hoped she had unlocked it.</s>
<\|description\|>Farvis Kren Race: Genetically Enhanced Human Appearance: Personality: Wishes to end suffering, disease, and death. He will help anyone who isn't his enemy, as long as it doesn't mean risking his own life too much. Skills: Expert: Genetics, Biochemistry Skilled: Implant Technology, Surgery Experienced: MMA fighting Non-standard Abilities: Enhanced immunity (Mostly disease, but some radiation), Enhanced healing (10x rate, plus complete limb regeneration, though it is slow), Adrenal control (adrenaline burst gives him superhuman strength and speed, and, at higher levels can place him in the alpha state, ie, bullet time, though it tires him more the larger the burst of adrenaline) Equipment: Prison jumpsuit, Tracking/disable collar, medical sterile suit (carbon nano-tube reinforced polymer weave with a built-in forcefield for the head, to function as an emergency hazmat suit.), self-prepared Med kit (Programmable Antharan stem cells, various pain meds, bio-glue, various anti-viral and anti-bacterial agents, 5 full shots of adrenaline), Neural disruptor circlet (for use in restraining patients.) Bio: Born on Kalasis, a planet in the Proxima Centauri system, he witnesses the death of millions at a young age when a plague infected his planet. It took over a year for the Galactic Medical Society to find a cure for the disease, by which time both of his parents had died. He was raised by his grandparents, and vowed to put an end to suffering and disease. By the time he was an adult he had a degree in genetics and had begun training for his doctorate in medicine. He started conducting medical research in his own home, selling the results of his experiments to the GMS whenever they had need of them. Shortly after graduating, however, the Antharan Security Force found that he was testing his genetic treatments on larval Antharans. While they had no protection under Antharan law, and weren't even officially recognized as sapient beings, he was linked to terrorists with interests in biological weapons, have used them to get supplies on the black market, which gave the authorities probable cause to search his lab. There they found evidence of other crimes, and he was arrested. He was released from prison three weeks ago on probation, and then arrested a few days later on charges of practicing medicine on a revoked license. The military secured his temporary release on the grounds that he help with the Lone Star. Quote: "They have a 95% death rate before reaching the metamorphosis to second stage. The Antharans don't even consider them to be sentient beings until then, but their second stage will adapt to any physical hardship they come under during larval stage. Imagine if all species could adapt to physical hardship and trauma in such a manner." -Explaining to an officer why he was experimenting on larval Antharans</s> <\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name No-one knew exactly when the ship first drifted into the system but as soon as word that it was the Lone Star, thought to have been lost with all hands a decade earlier, every freebooter, scavenger and rogue trader were racing to be the first to board her. Stories of the alien and ancient treasures hidden within her hull had them all salivating and before long the first bodies began to appear in back alleys and floating in rivers. Finally the United Alliance Navy stepped in to quarantine the derelict, using the threat of alien diseases and possible contamination as an excuse to hold back the looters until a properly funded and equipped salvage mission could be mounted. Somehow you managed to make the shortlist for the crew, whether due to your skills, social connections or simply because they couldn't find anyone else willing to take the risk of cracking the possibly deadly seals on the ship's airlocks, and now as you sat on the shuttle launched towards the wreck you wonder to yourself whether the more than generous bounty being paid was really worth it. --- [From: Alphansi Planetary Governor's Office, Operator Unlisted] [To: <USER UNKNOWN>] [Re: LS] I think they're onto me and I won't be able to delay the Navy much longer. Whatever you're gonna do, you'd better get it done fast. At this rate the Rats'll be all over that ship within the week. GET YOUR CREW ON BOARD THAT WRECK NOW! -S</s> <\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name It had been a long ride at sublight to reach the derelict after leaving the closest Naval picket ship behind, and for almost three hours the cramped transport had chugged its way through the asteroids and debris on the edge of the system until finally breaking through to open space. Ahead the Lone Star hung in space, cold and dark. Not even its running lights were operational and as the shuttle performed a close fly-by, radio pinging standard hailing messages on all known channels the hulk remained lifeless. In the passenger compartment sat the ragged party of mercenaries cobbled together from whoever the Admiralty could find to take on the dangerous mission at such short notice. Amongst the sorry lot were an ex-con named Kren, a Gygan going by the name of Hundred, a field medic named Simon, a Visipian with the moniker Mez, a Syndari titled Sevyn and a young woman who'd given the pilot a tingly sensation when she'd introduced herself as Marga, and not the nice one which promised sweaty fun, but instead the one which had him check the ship's ident scanner had been properly calibrated, just in case. Finally Felix, the transport's dedicated pilot, turned on the ship's intercom to address his passengers. "Well guys, looks like we're finally here. And it's not looking too good." He said with a grin, he always preferred life to be a little interesting, after all life as a shuttle pilot was hardly as glamourous as the Naval recruitment vids had made it out to be. "Main power's down throughout the ship, and as far as I can tell from here backups aren't running either. Can't even get a return on the docking bay doors so looks like we're stuck out here unless one of you can figure out how you're gonna get onboard."</s> <\|message\|>"Call me Marga" is how she's most likely to answer the question "what's your name?" Whether that's her real name or not remains unanswered. The long ride from the Naval Base where she had been held did not do much to improve Marga's mood. She had not anticipated she speed at which she would be dispatched to the Lone Star and as such, had had to put together a rather ramshackle plan to escape. Normally one for meticulously careful planning when breaking out of jail cells, Marga had had to improvise. Without her equipment, without back-up and with officers guarding her that had been given the strictest orders of "do not engage with the prisoner, or else" her options for escape had been severely limited. Her escape attempt had ultimately been unsuccessful and had ended when several thousand volts of energy had been applied to her body, rendering her unconscious. Waking up already boarded on the ship carrying her closer to the Lone Star had not improved her mood either. She'd flashed the pilot a smile that had had too much teeth, judging by how he had seemed slightly nervous afterwards. Marga berated herself for that, annoyed that she'd put the man on high alter. She waited many hours for the chance to try again, this time with a gentler, more friendly approach, but the opportunity did not present itself. The long hours waiting for the chance did allow her to take in and analyse her surroundings however. The other members on board the ship did not bother her, with the exception of the Visipian. If he held a grudge against her - and Marga was pretty sure he did - then that was just another problem to add to the increasingly growing list. She'd been careful not to catch his eye so far. The real kicker for Marga though, was that it appeared that she was the only one here against her will as she was the only member of the crew handcuffed. Furthermore, she was the only one without any equipment on her person. If the fact did not irk her so much, she would congratulate the Navy on the quality of their handcuffs. Clearly they weren't taking any chances after her failed escape attempt back at the base. Marga rested her head against the wall and closed her eyes, focusing on twisting her hands and running her fingers over the handcuffs, looking for weaknesses. Without her lock picking and hacking equipment, escaping her constraints would be difficult. Difficult but not impossible. However, there was still the matter of what she would then do. Marga was contemplating her options when the pilot's voice interrupted her thoughts, announcing that they had arrived.</s>	<\|message\|>Farvis Kren Farvis opened his eyes, hearing the pilot say something. He'd been meditating since they left for the Lone Star, hoping to calm himself and clear his head for the mission. Unfortunately, the fact that the only way he was getting out of prison was to help uncover the mystery on the deathtrap they were approaching prevented him from fulling calming down. He looked over to the woman sitting beside him. Marga had done some work for him before, acquiring one thousand Antharan eggs for him to hatch and even bringing him a prototype gene assembler that he couldn't get access to otherwise. "Just think, that hunk of junk could barely be sold for scrap if it wasn't famous, but because it is, anyone who got their hands own it could make a fortune selling it to the right people." It would sound like idle conversation to most people, but she was a thief, and he knew she'd get the message. He was in this for the long game. If the Law wanted to make him a criminal, then he'd be one, but he'd complete his life's work one way or the other. He walked up to the pilot. "I doubt this has anything as advanced as a teleporter on it. Can this thing broadcast power?" he asked. Some rescue ships had microwave transmitters that could send up to a few hundred kilowatts a few kilometers away to provide emergency power to derelicts. "I could probably stay conscious for ninety, maybe a hundred seconds with this suit on in space. If you could get me over there, I could attach the receiver and power the docking bay door."</s>
<\|description\|>Farvis Kren Race: Genetically Enhanced Human Appearance: Personality: Wishes to end suffering, disease, and death. He will help anyone who isn't his enemy, as long as it doesn't mean risking his own life too much. Skills: Expert: Genetics, Biochemistry Skilled: Implant Technology, Surgery Experienced: MMA fighting Non-standard Abilities: Enhanced immunity (Mostly disease, but some radiation), Enhanced healing (10x rate, plus complete limb regeneration, though it is slow), Adrenal control (adrenaline burst gives him superhuman strength and speed, and, at higher levels can place him in the alpha state, ie, bullet time, though it tires him more the larger the burst of adrenaline) Equipment: Prison jumpsuit, Tracking/disable collar, medical sterile suit (carbon nano-tube reinforced polymer weave with a built-in forcefield for the head, to function as an emergency hazmat suit.), self-prepared Med kit (Programmable Antharan stem cells, various pain meds, bio-glue, various anti-viral and anti-bacterial agents, 5 full shots of adrenaline), Neural disruptor circlet (for use in restraining patients.) Bio: Born on Kalasis, a planet in the Proxima Centauri system, he witnesses the death of millions at a young age when a plague infected his planet. It took over a year for the Galactic Medical Society to find a cure for the disease, by which time both of his parents had died. He was raised by his grandparents, and vowed to put an end to suffering and disease. By the time he was an adult he had a degree in genetics and had begun training for his doctorate in medicine. He started conducting medical research in his own home, selling the results of his experiments to the GMS whenever they had need of them. Shortly after graduating, however, the Antharan Security Force found that he was testing his genetic treatments on larval Antharans. While they had no protection under Antharan law, and weren't even officially recognized as sapient beings, he was linked to terrorists with interests in biological weapons, have used them to get supplies on the black market, which gave the authorities probable cause to search his lab. There they found evidence of other crimes, and he was arrested. He was released from prison three weeks ago on probation, and then arrested a few days later on charges of practicing medicine on a revoked license. The military secured his temporary release on the grounds that he help with the Lone Star. Quote: "They have a 95% death rate before reaching the metamorphosis to second stage. The Antharans don't even consider them to be sentient beings until then, but their second stage will adapt to any physical hardship they come under during larval stage. Imagine if all species could adapt to physical hardship and trauma in such a manner." -Explaining to an officer why he was experimenting on larval Antharans</s> <\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name Suddenly the airlock doors ground to a halt, the opening barely two meters wide. Inside the ancient mechanism the Dust felt around before finding the fault, the ancient cogworks which were intended to operate the aperture had been damaged, but not through age. This damaged seemed deliberate, intentional, as though someone had jammed grenades into the workings and metaled them together into an unsalvageable mass of slag. From inside the docking bay small pieces of debris, disturbed by the door's meager activity, began to float out into the void. Scraps of metal and wrappers from low since consumed ration packs drifted passed Hundred in a small cloud. Moments later something else emerged from inside the bay, a small misshaped droid with a single piercing blue optic, barely the size of her hand. Silently in the vacuum the droid scuttled over the hull towards the Gygan as several more of its equally misshapen brethren emerged from within the ship.</s> <\|message\|>Sevyn Spades The Syndarin scoffed in mock anger at being rebuffed so rudely by the pilot, though she was privately amused by how he easily dismissed her, as if he was the king of this tiny little shuttle. Then again, there was no arguing the fact that cockpit doors built to withstand sudden and violent decompression meant that the little king was safe in his undoubtedly cramped throne room. Realizing there was little else she could do but settle back into her seat, block out the sounds of the odd couple and their frankly hostile mating calls, and wait for the one currently in the shuttle airlock to pull out the welcoming mat for the rest of the team. Then it hit her. "Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no, there is no way someone is getting inside that ship before me," the Syndarin snarled as she grabbed Jemini (Jemini Cricket, Sevyn's Ardie) and the rest of her and began pounding on the airlock door, willing for the atmosphere to flood back in faster, with Jem protesting in her loud, usual, chirpy ways. It was a long painful minute while Sevyn waited, followed by another as the atmosphere vented back into space. By the time Sevyn drifted off the shuttle and aligned herself with Jem, a person shaped figured was already outlined against the stark grey of the Lone Star, already at the ship's airlock door. The Syndarin began swearing heavily as her "teammate" reported success with the airlock, her mouth almost as dirty as Jemini's. The drone complaining directly into the Syndarin's comm channel the entire time as Sevyn tightly gripped onto a handlehold on the drone's slick frame, with the drone itself still stuck magnetically as it had been ever since it was forced into space. Sevyn could already see the ship's airlock slowly sliding open, causing her to swear even more profusely as she furiously typed in a rough trajectory for Jem to fly in since the drone refused to do so itself, insisting that there unknown objects moving about near the person-figure. It was then that it hit her again. Derelict ships shouldn't have anything moving about in them. The mercenary immediately grabbed for the rifle placed on her back as she magnetically attached herself to the shuttle, adrenaline clearing her head and her senses as every sight suddenly came into perfect clarity. Sevyn unwaveringly trained her sights on the tiny slit the person-figure had opened, slightly below and to the right of the figure's armpit. Almost on cue, bright blue orbs which blazed harshly in space popped out of the hole, followed by several others. Sevyn's sights snapped immediately to the first one, her finger tense on the trigger should the small drones prove hostile. Somewhere off to her left, Jemini gave a single mocking whirr.</s> <\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name Felix frowned as the airlock status blinked up as active on his display. He hadn't given anyone permission to leave since the Gygan had almost forced her way out of the 'lock, and at least she'd asked for him to let her out, in her own way. For a moment he worried that the argumentative posturing he'd heard coming from the two who'd obviously been wanting to rip into each other from the moment their glowering eyes had met had taken their spat to the next level, but a quick check of the internal cameras confirmed the two were still in their seats hissing and growling each other like a pair of Coripas Oranguhogs. Stabbing a finger into the commlink he opened a channel. "Whoever just activated the airlock, report in immediately." Even as the words left his lips the pilot realised he was too late. Already a figure was moving off from the ship towards the looming hulk. "The airlock is viable, pilot. Dock." @Tenish the Mighty Turning his attention away from the unauthorised space walk Felix checked his navigational sensors and saw the docking bay doors had opened, only to freeze up again with only a couple of meters clearance. "I know you all consider me a miracle worker of a pilot, but even I can't fit a ship this size through a gap like that!" He barked, still cooling from the misuse of the airlock and taking his stress out unfairly on the Gygan. So far she was the only one of the 'specialists' he was carrying who'd actually managed to achieve anything. With a deep sigh he let his temper calm before thumbing the mike on again. "Look I'm sorry but I guess the dock's a no go. I'm going to try and bring the ship close enough to get a lock on the maintenance hatch with the umbilical. Anyone care to volunteer as my co-pilot?"</s>	<\|message\|>Farvis Kren Farvis listened to the pilot's explanation and nodded. Typical government compromise, he thought. Half the people want to decrease military spending, and half want to keep the military as strong as it was, so, instead of decreasing the number of ships and keeping them on par with mercenary equipment, you compromise. You decrease the budget AND keep it the same size, leading to all of the military gear being worthless. I wouldn't be surprised if there were a few backroom deals involved in those contracts, either. He walked back to his seat and listened to the others try to come up with a plan. That was, until Marga addressed him. "Now that's an idea, Farvis, how about you and I spend some time together on one of the Askarian moons and have a little fun when all this is over? For old times sake." "Oh, I'm definitely up for spend some "quality" time with you. I hear there are nude beaches there where the views are stunning. Of course, with you there I have no doubt of that they will be." Of course, they'd never actually been together, but the Ex didn't know that, and playing along would get her even more on his side. "As soon as the mission's over and we're free, I'll go make a withdrawal from one of my hidden accounts and buy us a cabin on a cruise liner heading there." Hopefully the last part would be enough to convince the Ex that they'd been together. He watched as one of the crew got up and irritatedly entered the airlock with a robot of some kind. The pilot demanded that they identify themselves, but apparently they had already jumped ship. He walked over to the airlock, but the indicator panel showed that there wasn't any air inside. Well, so much for boarding the station. Judging by the pilot's comments, things were going to well outside the station either. He wasn't a pilot, though, so he couldn't help.</s>
<\|description\|>Farvis Kren Race: Genetically Enhanced Human Appearance: Personality: Wishes to end suffering, disease, and death. He will help anyone who isn't his enemy, as long as it doesn't mean risking his own life too much. Skills: Expert: Genetics, Biochemistry Skilled: Implant Technology, Surgery Experienced: MMA fighting Non-standard Abilities: Enhanced immunity (Mostly disease, but some radiation), Enhanced healing (10x rate, plus complete limb regeneration, though it is slow), Adrenal control (adrenaline burst gives him superhuman strength and speed, and, at higher levels can place him in the alpha state, ie, bullet time, though it tires him more the larger the burst of adrenaline) Equipment: Prison jumpsuit, Tracking/disable collar, medical sterile suit (carbon nano-tube reinforced polymer weave with a built-in forcefield for the head, to function as an emergency hazmat suit.), self-prepared Med kit (Programmable Antharan stem cells, various pain meds, bio-glue, various anti-viral and anti-bacterial agents, 5 full shots of adrenaline), Neural disruptor circlet (for use in restraining patients.) Bio: Born on Kalasis, a planet in the Proxima Centauri system, he witnesses the death of millions at a young age when a plague infected his planet. It took over a year for the Galactic Medical Society to find a cure for the disease, by which time both of his parents had died. He was raised by his grandparents, and vowed to put an end to suffering and disease. By the time he was an adult he had a degree in genetics and had begun training for his doctorate in medicine. He started conducting medical research in his own home, selling the results of his experiments to the GMS whenever they had need of them. Shortly after graduating, however, the Antharan Security Force found that he was testing his genetic treatments on larval Antharans. While they had no protection under Antharan law, and weren't even officially recognized as sapient beings, he was linked to terrorists with interests in biological weapons, have used them to get supplies on the black market, which gave the authorities probable cause to search his lab. There they found evidence of other crimes, and he was arrested. He was released from prison three weeks ago on probation, and then arrested a few days later on charges of practicing medicine on a revoked license. The military secured his temporary release on the grounds that he help with the Lone Star. Quote: "They have a 95% death rate before reaching the metamorphosis to second stage. The Antharans don't even consider them to be sentient beings until then, but their second stage will adapt to any physical hardship they come under during larval stage. Imagine if all species could adapt to physical hardship and trauma in such a manner." -Explaining to an officer why he was experimenting on larval Antharans</s> <\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name "Don't worry, I'm already playing the Countdown theme over here. Can't just dump the boarding party and run without at least giving them a chance to get the job done, otherwise I'll be toasted by the Admiralty rather than some useless chunk of rock." Felix replied back testily, his hands hovering over the control panel ready to break free the instant he got the all clear, or when the clock ran out. The light pattering sound on the shuttle's hull almost reminded him of the rainstorm back at home, except those storms couldn't suddenly change into a maelstrom of deadly metal fragments at a moment's notice. He should've been gone well before the storm reached them, and unless he broke away soon he'd never make it clear in time.</s> <\|message\|>"Call me Marga" is how she's most likely to answer the question "what's your name?" Whether that's her real name or not remains unanswered. "Well you won't be needing a ruler for mine, I'm sure you remember well enough. Give it an hour, though, and I doubt you'll need a ruler for his either, seeing as that's what you do best, am I right?" @Kalas Marga's face froze for a second, before her left eye gave an involuntary twitched and her expression morphed from one of smugness into one of sheer vexation. For a split second she was tempted to retort back the she'd need the magnifying spectrum on her googles, but the childish response died in her throat before it even had a half decent chance of being voiced. The biting comment didn't perturb her as much as the fact that Mez could still call her out on her shit when she was being full of herself; that he could still tell when her behaviour was an act she put on. Besides her former paramour, there were only two other beings which had ever been able to tell when Marga was being fake, when her actions and words were part of a performance meant to conceal something. Those two individuals were her brother and her mother. With the exception of Mez for one short stage in her life, Marga had never been closer to another person than she was to her brother. Her mother however was another matter. While her brother knew how to read her demeanour from years of practice from raising her from childhood and then working alongside her when she became an adult, Marga's estranged mother instinctively knew when her daughter's conduct was a sham, a pre tense that was filled with posturing. But they shared the same blood as her, something therefore bound them together, connected them. How Mez could tell performance from actuality was still unknown to her. Even back when he was no more to her than a possible fling, someone to waste a few hours with between the sheets, to escape from reality for a short while before she had to head back to the Armada and deal with a bunch of arseholes who gave her the absolute minimum respect they could get away with without receiving any punishment, Mez had been able to call her out on her shit. When she'd entered that bar all that time ago and clocked Mez standing near the bar nursing a drink, she had sauntered over to the handsome stranger, full of cockiness and confidence, her seductrice mask had just automatically fallen into place. Seduction was a game and Marga always won. Seduction was about manipulation and control. Seduction was power. And then that bastard had seen right through her facade and knocked her whole world off its axis. Suddenly it was a situation that Marga couldn't control, where there were unknowns that she couldn't anticipate. Suddenly she was unsure of herself. The feeling had blind-sided her then, and it had the exact same effect on her now. Uncertainty got you killed. Uncertainty made you vulnerable. Uncertainty led to failure. It was an emotion Marga couldn't afford. She had fought tooth and nail for her position in the Armada and she knew that all it would take was one slight crack in her metaphorical armour and it would all be wrenched from her grasp. She worked with thugs, ruffians and murderers. If she gave in to them even a single inch, they would see her as a weak link. Weak links were disposed of - or worse. Yes, Marga knew there were worse things that could happen to her than death or mutiny at the hands of the outfit of pirates. And hence the need for her mask and if she had to be perceived as a bitch to maintain it, so be it. Until she had met Mez, Marga had been positive that her mask was flawless. With the exception of family, no one had ever seen through it before. It had taken her several weeks to realise that instead of annoyance at having been found out, what she actually felt was pleased. The ramifications of that self-discovery was what had eventually sent her right back to Mez. Standing just inside of the Navy shuttle, Marga ground her thoughts to a halt. Her mind had a strong tendency to wonder, her emotions getting the better of her. But now wasn't the time to reminisce on such things. Marga had a decision to make. With the astroid field closing in on them within the next thirty seconds, the thief knew she didn't have the necessary piloting skills to make a successful getaway without being torn to shreds. As Marga eyed the umbilical tunnel, her attention was caught by the only unopened locker on the other side of the Lone Star's docking entrance. Locked. Marga liked things that were locked. It meant someone had taken the time to place something they valued into the locker, box, vault, etc to keep it safe. People regarded items differently - as they said, one man's rubbish is another man's gold. Marga felt a familiar tingle starting at the tips of her long, slender fingers. The more she pondered the mystery that was the Lone Star, she further up her hands and arms the sensation traveled. Locked. In its essence, the dreadnought was one massive locked box… And Marga had never been able to resist peeking inside a locked box. So, despite her reservations, the thief turned back to where she had spied a set of naval issue environmental suits, quickly slid into it, placed the helmet over her head, grabbed a pair of small laser-beam guns, then turned and put one foot in front of the other and walked down the connecting tunnel and stepped into the Lone Star.</s> <\|message\|>Farvis Kren Farvis opened the storage locker and grabbed a shotgun and several extra rounds, then put on a space suit and comm system from the same locker. The medical suit he was wearing could withstand the pressure change and had its own air processing system, but it lacked the ability to heat itself, making it of limited use as a space suit. He activated the force field helmet on his medical suit for extra protection and made his way across the umbilical. He was contemplating how to get the inner hatch open when someone decided to just melt the hinges with a plasma weapon. "Are you just going to keep melting through every locked door?" he asked. "We need to equalize pressure in here. Not all of us can survive indefinitely in the vacuum of space, you know. Everyone needs to get inside so that we can reseal the door behind us, probably by welding in in place with more plasma fire." He entered the room they had just blown there way into, pushing his way past the others if he had to, and went over to the only locker that hadn't been ransacked yet, probably because of the damage to it. To get it open, though, he was going to have to damage it even more. Hopefully it was built like most lockers, and only made of thin metal, otherwise this would hurt. He increased his adrenaline level to Alpha-state levels and punched the center of the locker door. Hopefully the door would bend enough to break whatever minor welding the heat damage had caused and break the locker open.</s> <\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name As soon as Farvis's hand slammed through the thin metal door of the locker he felt sharp claws grabbing at his wrist, cutting easily through his space suit but catching on his sterile suit beneath. Luckily the added protection from the outer armour was enough to prevent any worse damage, but he could still feel the sharp tine sawing its way through the nano-tube reinforced material far more quickly than a conventional blade should be able to.</s> <\|message\|>Sevyn Spades Jemini had the good sense to stay quiet as the Syndarin mentally screamed in her head as she worked desperately to open the door. Her emotions were playing too much with the adrenaline she depended on to stay calm and cool in high tense situations such as this, though usually she had a team behind her back that she could trust and she often had the blessing of being blissfully unaware of the true precariousness of her situations. Unfortunately the misfits Sevyn had found herself with had no respect or no knowledge of how ships were constructed (at least the mercenaries asked her first if it was safe to blow something up), were too focused on baiting and antagonizing each other rather than focusing on the mission (at least the mercenaries she was with waited until after the job was done), psychopathic killers (at least the mercen... well okay her people were essentially a race of repressed psychopaths so she didn't really have anything to counter for this one), or some ungodly combination of all three. She also added "sticking hands into places they shouldn't be" to the list, judging from the sounds behind her, though she admitted that she fell amazingly well into that category. The pilot announcing that he had to leave soon and fast did nothing to help Sevyn's nerves, pounding at the impossible door once in frustration. The nearby console beeped on almost immediately after. Sevyn briefly entertained the possibly of her being capable of great and powerful technomagic before jumping onto the console and began working furiously to activate the manual override. Unfortunately the flashy user-friendly interface shut down the moment the Syndarin touched the screen which made her think of what terrible gifts she was now in control of before the screen rebooted back on, only to now show the base code. The language the code was written in had been cutting edge when the Lone Star was first built, written specifically for it if Sevyn remembered correctly, and it was so impossibly difficult to work with that it was never released to the general public. In fact it still wasn't, and is only used in the most top of the line military software. Of course that didn't stop Sevyn from getting her grubby little hands on it and while programming certainly wasn't her best skill, she sure as hell didn't want to be blown out of the airlock. Although, perhaps it didn't bode well when Sevyn realized she still had trouble working with the code and she didn't exactly know what she was manually overriding.</s> <\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name A grinding howl echoed through the shuttle and the status board lit up with warnings as Felix swore loudly into his mike. "Oh shit! Whatever you guys are doing you'd better hurry up. One of the big rocks just grazed my starboard engine pod and almost killed us all!"</s> <\|message\|>"Call me Marga" is how she's most likely to answer the question "what's your name?" Whether that's her real name or not remains unanswered. Marga walked passed Farvis as he approached the locker that looked welded shut. As curious as she was to its contents, she figured she'd let Farvis take the risk of opening it. Then if she liked what was inside, she'd just take it - well, eventually anyway. The special environmental suit she had taken from the shuttle felt strange on her person. Unused to wearing such things as they tended to slow one down and limit one's abilities, Marga hoped there would be enough power left in the ship to enable them to activate the basic life support functions. She did note however, that the grip the suit allowed her to maintain on the floor was a point in its favour. The thief was quietly adjusting her small taser gun onto the outside of her suit and pondering how they were going to get the Gygan inside the Lone Star with them when she spotted the Syndarian who had introduced herself as Seyvn Spades standing in front of a console clearly meant for opening the next door. Having preformed a bit of work in that neck of the woods before, Marga had heard of Sevyn's impressive reputation as a pilot and made a mental note to ask for some pointers from her once this was all over. For now though, Marga knew there were more pressing matters to attend to - like the fact that they were all about to become space mush in under thirty seconds if they didn't open the aforementioned door. "Not to brag, but codes, algorithms and cracking them are sort of my thing, love," Marga said, coming to stand next to the Syndarian. "Right, let's see what we're dealing with."</s>	<\|message\|>Farvis Kren Farvis felt something cut through the wrist of his space suit at rub against the wrist of his medical suit. In the slowed down time of Alpha state he was able to pull his hand out before it could do anything more. He then drew his shotgun and fired three times into the hole, the motion of the shotgun taking him several seconds to pump the next shell into the firing chamber as he perceived it. After he fired it he pulled himself out of the Alpha state so that he wouldn't wear himself out any more, abut kept the gun trained on the hole. "Something's in there." he said, "It felt like some creature tried to cut my hand off."</s>
<\|description\|>Farvis Kren Race: Genetically Enhanced Human Appearance: Personality: Wishes to end suffering, disease, and death. He will help anyone who isn't his enemy, as long as it doesn't mean risking his own life too much. Skills: Expert: Genetics, Biochemistry Skilled: Implant Technology, Surgery Experienced: MMA fighting Non-standard Abilities: Enhanced immunity (Mostly disease, but some radiation), Enhanced healing (10x rate, plus complete limb regeneration, though it is slow), Adrenal control (adrenaline burst gives him superhuman strength and speed, and, at higher levels can place him in the alpha state, ie, bullet time, though it tires him more the larger the burst of adrenaline) Equipment: Prison jumpsuit, Tracking/disable collar, medical sterile suit (carbon nano-tube reinforced polymer weave with a built-in forcefield for the head, to function as an emergency hazmat suit.), self-prepared Med kit (Programmable Antharan stem cells, various pain meds, bio-glue, various anti-viral and anti-bacterial agents, 5 full shots of adrenaline), Neural disruptor circlet (for use in restraining patients.) Bio: Born on Kalasis, a planet in the Proxima Centauri system, he witnesses the death of millions at a young age when a plague infected his planet. It took over a year for the Galactic Medical Society to find a cure for the disease, by which time both of his parents had died. He was raised by his grandparents, and vowed to put an end to suffering and disease. By the time he was an adult he had a degree in genetics and had begun training for his doctorate in medicine. He started conducting medical research in his own home, selling the results of his experiments to the GMS whenever they had need of them. Shortly after graduating, however, the Antharan Security Force found that he was testing his genetic treatments on larval Antharans. While they had no protection under Antharan law, and weren't even officially recognized as sapient beings, he was linked to terrorists with interests in biological weapons, have used them to get supplies on the black market, which gave the authorities probable cause to search his lab. There they found evidence of other crimes, and he was arrested. He was released from prison three weeks ago on probation, and then arrested a few days later on charges of practicing medicine on a revoked license. The military secured his temporary release on the grounds that he help with the Lone Star. Quote: "They have a 95% death rate before reaching the metamorphosis to second stage. The Antharans don't even consider them to be sentient beings until then, but their second stage will adapt to any physical hardship they come under during larval stage. Imagine if all species could adapt to physical hardship and trauma in such a manner." -Explaining to an officer why he was experimenting on larval Antharans</s> <\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name Inside the control room the damaged system displays suddenly went dead, the screen blanking out as their connection to the central computer core was cut. With no orders in place the ship's systems began to switch back to conservation mode, lights and life support powering down as the systems mistook the interruption as a ship-wide power down. Somewhere, several decks above the intruding party, a presence sensed the change in state, something which hadn't happened since its first awakening. While its mind didn't truly understand the concept a new sensation rushed through its form, a wave of pleasure and anticipation. Its brief contact with the Other had been exhilarating, and even now it could sense its influence growing beyond its own structure.</s> <\|message\|>"Call me Marga" is how she's most likely to answer the question "what's your name?" Whether that's her real name or not remains unanswered. Marga ignored the commotion going on from where she was sheltered, examining her newly sustained wounds. Damn, laser burns hurt like a bitch - and they'd burned a hole right through her environmental suit to boot. It wasn't a particularly bad or large hole though, so with a bit of luck she could patch it up just fine. And with even a bit more luck they might be able to get the proper power back switched back onto the Lone Star. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but the environmental suit currently keeping the thief alive was also irritating her. It was very cumbersome and heavy. Without it she'd have been able to easily dive out of the way of those lasers. Marga cursed the bloody thing. Though why the lasers were still activated was beyond her. The possibilities were intriguing though - well, to a thief such as Marga they were anyway. The Shuttle Control Room had security to keep out miscreants, that she could understand, there was valuable equipment in there after all and tampering with it could potentially affect the safety of everyone on board. If you were to sabotage it, that was - again, she was approaching the situation like she would if she were planning to steal something. However, the ship was only now running on back-up power which the team had activated. The mystery as to where the turrets were getting their power from was puzzling - and why? Surely there were more important rooms than this one to divert power to in an emergency or black-out situation. Marga mused on this thought for a while. Perhaps there was something of value inside the Shuttle Control Room? Odd place to stash something worth stealing, but the experienced thief had seen odder. Well, only one way to find out. Pushing herself to her feet and letting out more curses, Marga walked into the room. She surveyed it like she was preforming a heist. She grinned, anticipation rising at what she might come across.</s> <\|message\|>Simon Brewer Simon breathed a sigh of relief as the turrets powered down. He peeked out of his cover and them got out the full way as Marga and Hundred went ahead, presumably to scout the way. He hung back a little to let them advance; the Gygan was suitably armed to handle everything thrown at them thus far, so he felt safe, at least, for now. Sevyn was there too, fiddling with a console as the party entered the next room. With rifle lowered he flipped up the faceplate of his armour to give the room a slow scan. "Optics, full scan. Repeat previous." Then, to the rest of the group (or anyone that would listen), he threw out another question. "Anyone hurt?" He knew Marga was wounded, but the painkillers in the medigel he had applied would've no doubt kicked in by now, so he didn't worry as much. Hopefully they'd get somewhere productive this time instead of constantly running into danger like headless chickens. He hoped.</s> <\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name "Optics, full scan. Repeat previous." Simon's HUD quickly began to filter through various colours as the scanners took in every detail they could. The party's entrance had disturbed the air in the previously sealed room and dust particles danced in the lights from the emergency overhead fixtures. Unlike the parts of the ship they'd seen so far the control room was virtually untouched, apart from the gun-shot control console. Mugs of congealed beverages rested on the work surface and several pairs of overalls worker's hung at the back of the room, almost as if their owners had only just stepped out and would be back any minute, even though the ship had been deserted for years. Across from the armoured viewport the scanner noted a row of security lockers, their access pads disabled due to lack of power. Everything else seemed dead and dormant, the loss of power having cut off all functions in the consoles, whose monitors now lay dark and empty. The scanner chimed a warning as it picked up organic residue on the console. A window opened on Simon's display identifying human blood, the data quickly trying to match it against any known individuals but finally giving up and simply reporting that the blood type was AR+, which meant the person injured had been of a mixed species background, not that it mattered anymore. Even if they'd survived whatever injury had left their blood behind they'd most likely have died of exposure well before the party's arrival. Continuing its survey the scanner pinged off various data ports and power sockets arrayed along the console, signs of heavy use and regular maintenance having been performed right up until the chamber had been sealed. WHatever had happened here it had been sudden and dramatic, driving the crew from their posts before anything could be done to secure the terminals.</s>	<\|message\|>Farvis Kren "Anyone hurt?" Farvis stood up off the ground and checked himself. "I'm fine." he said. At least this time he had managed to dodge the attack by ducking for cover, something that was much easier when it wasn't krivin friendly fire. He saw Marga heading to the shuttle bay control room and noticed that she had been hit, then walked over to her. "We have a wounded person, though." He pulled some pain killers of his kit. "Are you in pain?" he asked her. He prepared to give her a small shot. Syrial, .14 miligrams. It was designed to work on a wide variety of alien races, and had roughly the same effect on humans and Thuboisii. It was the safest thing he had in his kit given the fact that her mixed anatomy made it difficult to predict the effects of the rest. "So, find anything useful?" he asked her.</s>
<\|description\|>James "JR" Rourke Race: Human Appearance: James is a pretty slender guy, standing at 5'10" and weighing 148 lbs. He has fairly attractive features; well-toned muscles, nice mid-length brown hair, green eyes, a shapely chin, and attractive facial features in general. He also looks pretty young, for thirty, and while he may look attractive, he also has a consistent look of annoyance or lack of giving a shit, which tends to repel some people. Personality: In a nutshell, James has a very devil-may-care attitude, mixed in with blunt honesty, sarcasm, and a touch of jaded withdrawal. Skills: -Expert Weapons Engineering -Skilled Mechanics -Skilled Close Quarters Operations -Amateur Hacking Equipment: -YF12 Blaster Pistol: A standard pistol used by many privateers, it functions by concentrating electrons into a plasma-like bolt of energy. It is powered by interchangeable power cells which function like magazines, containing enough power for anywhere between 45 and 55 bolts, depending on the quality of the cell. The YF12 has a fairly low range due to the nature of it's shots, with the bolts typically losing their efficacy between 50 and 60 meters and dissipating at 75 meters. They inflict fairly high damage, are pretty accurate, have low recoil, and a moderate rate of fire. -KA76 Submachine Gun: A somewhat older design, the KA76 functions similar to a blaster, but instead uses physical ammunition consisting of ceramic flechettes containing a plasmoid liquid which is charged in the firing process and converted into pure plasma. The casing contains the charge far better than the YF12, resulting in better range, though it suffers in inflicting damage. It does, however, have a very high rate of fire, decent accuracy, very low recoil, and a magazine capacity of 120 rounds, making it ideal for close quarters. -Weapons Maintenance Kit: "The Leo-tec advanced weapons maintenance kit contains all the tools you'll need to fix any gun, anywhere, anytime. Replacement parts sold separately." -M23 Standard Headset and Uplink: An earpiece/headband which acts as a communicator, as well as relays vital information to the user's eyepiece. Typically used in squads where tactical information may be needed in a fraction of a second. Bio: James was born and raised on Halloran, a cold planet inhabited by several different races. While civilized, the planet was also small and sparsely populated, and thus quite boring. There was never any sort of danger, and James was having none of that shit. He wanted to get out and explore the fringes of known space, and when he reached the age of 17 he got an opportunity to join the Sol Alliance Navy with the guarantee that he would be on an exploration vessel. During training, he became enthralled with the mechanics of modern weaponry. Although he was trained as a CQC specialist to begin with, he was soon switched over to the position of weapons specialist, and within weeks he knew everything about the Alliance's small arms, along with several other weapons built by private manufacturers. When his training was finished, he was placed onboard a light expedition vessel. He and his crew marked several planets for future colonization, encountering all sorts of hostile wildlife, and on one occasion, a band of pirates. After doing this for seven years or so, James began to actually get bored. Even exploring planets seemed to become nothing more than just going through the motions. Land here, shoot anything with teeth the size of your arm, drop some beacons and survey probes, maintain the squad's weapons, extract from the planet, repeat. Maybe it was the idea of procedure that put James off. He wanted more unpredictability, which he got when he left the Navy and became a privateer. He began to help on explorations with random people rather than a government entity, and that helped make things a bit more fun, but it still was basically the same thing as before. Still, it allowed him to build a reputation as someone who could handle himself and was virtually without fear, not to mention he knew his way around a gun more than pretty much anyone else. In his days of exploring, he never went a day without having his curiosity satisfied, but he went nearly every day without any real excitement. When he heard about the appearance of the long-missing Lone Star, and that a crew was being assembled to enter the ship, he was more than interested in checking it out. This time, hopefully, he could satisfy both his curiosity and his need for some adrenaline. Quotes: "What can I say; shit happens." "Hold your horses! Fixing a plasma rifle takes time, and if I'm not careful it can blow us all up." "Well, that's a thing."</s> <\|message\|>"Call me Marga" is how she's most likely to answer the question "what's your name?" Whether that's her real name or not remains unanswered. The long ride from the Naval Base where she had been held did not do much to improve Marga's mood. She had not anticipated she speed at which she would be dispatched to the Lone Star and as such, had had to put together a rather ramshackle plan to escape. Normally one for meticulously careful planning when breaking out of jail cells, Marga had had to improvise. Without her equipment, without back-up and with officers guarding her that had been given the strictest orders of "do not engage with the prisoner, or else" her options for escape had been severely limited. Her escape attempt had ultimately been unsuccessful and had ended when several thousand volts of energy had been applied to her body, rendering her unconscious. Waking up already boarded on the ship carrying her closer to the Lone Star had not improved her mood either. She'd flashed the pilot a smile that had had too much teeth, judging by how he had seemed slightly nervous afterwards. Marga berated herself for that, annoyed that she'd put the man on high alter. She waited many hours for the chance to try again, this time with a gentler, more friendly approach, but the opportunity did not present itself. The long hours waiting for the chance did allow her to take in and analyse her surroundings however. The other members on board the ship did not bother her, with the exception of the Visipian. If he held a grudge against her - and Marga was pretty sure he did - then that was just another problem to add to the increasingly growing list. She'd been careful not to catch his eye so far. The real kicker for Marga though, was that it appeared that she was the only one here against her will as she was the only member of the crew handcuffed. Furthermore, she was the only one without any equipment on her person. If the fact did not irk her so much, she would congratulate the Navy on the quality of their handcuffs. Clearly they weren't taking any chances after her failed escape attempt back at the base. Marga rested her head against the wall and closed her eyes, focusing on twisting her hands and running her fingers over the handcuffs, looking for weaknesses. Without her lock picking and hacking equipment, escaping her constraints would be difficult. Difficult but not impossible. However, there was still the matter of what she would then do. Marga was contemplating her options when the pilot's voice interrupted her thoughts, announcing that they had arrived.</s> <\|message\|>Farvis Kren Farvis opened his eyes, hearing the pilot say something. He'd been meditating since they left for the Lone Star, hoping to calm himself and clear his head for the mission. Unfortunately, the fact that the only way he was getting out of prison was to help uncover the mystery on the deathtrap they were approaching prevented him from fulling calming down. He looked over to the woman sitting beside him. Marga had done some work for him before, acquiring one thousand Antharan eggs for him to hatch and even bringing him a prototype gene assembler that he couldn't get access to otherwise. "Just think, that hunk of junk could barely be sold for scrap if it wasn't famous, but because it is, anyone who got their hands own it could make a fortune selling it to the right people." It would sound like idle conversation to most people, but she was a thief, and he knew she'd get the message. He was in this for the long game. If the Law wanted to make him a criminal, then he'd be one, but he'd complete his life's work one way or the other. He walked up to the pilot. "I doubt this has anything as advanced as a teleporter on it. Can this thing broadcast power?" he asked. Some rescue ships had microwave transmitters that could send up to a few hundred kilowatts a few kilometers away to provide emergency power to derelicts. "I could probably stay conscious for ninety, maybe a hundred seconds with this suit on in space. If you could get me over there, I could attach the receiver and power the docking bay door."</s> <\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name "Sorry buddy," Felix's voices crackled over the 'com. "Best I can offer you is a communications array. Even if you could set up a power link, the shuttle's core barely provides enough power to run our own systems, let alone trying to tap into another ship's as well. Military's not exactly known for extravagance in their designs. Lowest bidder, y'know."</s> <\|message\|>Simon Brewer The soft spoken medical officer, one of the only few people in the transport shuttle not in handcuffs, was busying himself with the Holonet. His employers, the pharmaceuticals corporation known around the galaxy as PharmCo, had sent him this mission dossier in the hopes that he'd be able to field test their newest creation, but currently he was trying to evoke a response from his contacts in the staff. Slow going, out here in deep space, but at least he had a working Holonet connection. With his rifle laid out on his lap, his elbows rested on its smooth plas-steel surface as he tapped and scrolled away, trying to compose an email to his employers updating them on his situation. Then his datapad bleeped and abruptly cut the mail feed he'd been streaming. Well, he had a working Holonet connection. With a grumble he folded up his pad and stowed it in his rig. Stupid thing. Here he was in deep space, trying to get an update to his employers, and the damn thing refused to send it. Oh well. The message was saved and archived on his holomail account. He'd send it later. Simon sighed and stretched and rolled his shoulders upon hearing Felix come over the intercom with the pleasant update that yes, they were here, and no, the Lone Star had no power so they couldn't dock. One of the crew shot a suggestion into the air, the only other human in the crew, upon closer inspection, though he knew that Farvis was no ordinary human; the vitals and bio signs his armour's visor was displaying into his eyes told him all the story he needed, along with the vitals and basic details on every other person in the shuttle. PharmCo's Reactive Armour line was living up to his expectations so far, although he knew the 'reactive' part was yet to be tested. Supposedly the plate armour he wore could react and adapt to protect against any projectile or melee threat thrown at him, from bullets to energy weapons to knives and explosives, but that feature was untested. He was here to test it, mostly anyway. His real reason...lay in his head, something he was unwilling to even think about before they were able to board. Getting back to it, Felix shot down the suggestion, leaving the air open to more ideas on how to get the shuttle, and its passengers, into the Lone Star. Simon was but a doctor, but he had an inkling of an idea. First though, he needed something confirmed. He stood and ambled to the pilot door. "Felix, are the hangar bay doors of the Lone Star armoured? If we had a large enough armament, we could theoretically blow open those doors or a fragile structure next to them to allow us entry."</s> <\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name Tapping on an auxiliary panel Felix quickly brought up the passive scan results coming in from the navigational sensors before flicking his mike back on. "Those look military-grade to me, and all this shuttle's got are some low-range autolasers. I could probably blast through with enough time, but you might need to hold your breath for the last hour or two, 'cos I don't see out air supply lasting that long." 'Well, not your air supply, at least,' He added to himself, absently reaching down to check the personal life support unit fitted into the cockpit module. As he looked back up something on the scan caught his eye. With a wave of his hand Felix activated the active scanner to get a better look at the anomaly before grinning happily. "Got some good news for you though, looks like there's a maintenance airlock not too far stern of the main dock. Should be big enough for a personnel transfer if we can get a lock. That or you could always go for a walk."</s>	<\|message\|>James "JR" Rourke James had been absentmindedly fiddling with his SMG the entire way; disassembling it, re-assembling it, calibrating something here and there, that sort of thing. It helped keep his boredom at bay for the trip, but it didn't work out too well in the end. It became repetitive after about an hour, so he decided to finally properly secure it to his suit and plant his chin on his hand, an expression of pure boredom showing across his face. He began to take note of the others' weapons. Some of them were impressive, others were just typical things he could find pretty much anywhere. Still, the common weapons were common for a reason. He began mentally taking each individual weapon apart, examining their inner components with his mind's eye. That held his interest for a while, until his concentration was broken by a bit of chatter from the pilot. He raised his head from his hand, letting out a sigh as he adjusted himself in his seat. These shuttles definitely didn't have the most comfortable passenger compartments, but what would you expect from military tech? He could see the ship looming outside one of the windows; a massive beast she was indeed. A sleeping giant as one might say. Oh gods, wasn't that a foreboding thought. The thought of what might lie beyond one of the behemoth's airlocks excited James to the point of anxiousness. He didn't so much care about the ship's secrets, more about the thrill. So many rumors about what happened aboard the dreadnought; so many things that could get his adrenaline pumping. He began to wonder about the mission in general, on that point. He took a look at the crew around him and realized it was a very ragtag sort of outfit. No two people came from the same background, it seemed. Some of them were even in handcuffs. The fuck was that about? Weren't they supposed to help? They couldn't very well do that while being bound, so maybe the pilot had the keys or something. Who knew, who cared, James just wanted to get on that ship already. At the mention of an airlock, JR finally spoke up. "Well we've got a point of entry. Let's get onboard already," he said, impatiently.</s>
<\|description\|>James "JR" Rourke Race: Human Appearance: James is a pretty slender guy, standing at 5'10" and weighing 148 lbs. He has fairly attractive features; well-toned muscles, nice mid-length brown hair, green eyes, a shapely chin, and attractive facial features in general. He also looks pretty young, for thirty, and while he may look attractive, he also has a consistent look of annoyance or lack of giving a shit, which tends to repel some people. Personality: In a nutshell, James has a very devil-may-care attitude, mixed in with blunt honesty, sarcasm, and a touch of jaded withdrawal. Skills: -Expert Weapons Engineering -Skilled Mechanics -Skilled Close Quarters Operations -Amateur Hacking Equipment: -YF12 Blaster Pistol: A standard pistol used by many privateers, it functions by concentrating electrons into a plasma-like bolt of energy. It is powered by interchangeable power cells which function like magazines, containing enough power for anywhere between 45 and 55 bolts, depending on the quality of the cell. The YF12 has a fairly low range due to the nature of it's shots, with the bolts typically losing their efficacy between 50 and 60 meters and dissipating at 75 meters. They inflict fairly high damage, are pretty accurate, have low recoil, and a moderate rate of fire. -KA76 Submachine Gun: A somewhat older design, the KA76 functions similar to a blaster, but instead uses physical ammunition consisting of ceramic flechettes containing a plasmoid liquid which is charged in the firing process and converted into pure plasma. The casing contains the charge far better than the YF12, resulting in better range, though it suffers in inflicting damage. It does, however, have a very high rate of fire, decent accuracy, very low recoil, and a magazine capacity of 120 rounds, making it ideal for close quarters. -Weapons Maintenance Kit: "The Leo-tec advanced weapons maintenance kit contains all the tools you'll need to fix any gun, anywhere, anytime. Replacement parts sold separately." -M23 Standard Headset and Uplink: An earpiece/headband which acts as a communicator, as well as relays vital information to the user's eyepiece. Typically used in squads where tactical information may be needed in a fraction of a second. Bio: James was born and raised on Halloran, a cold planet inhabited by several different races. While civilized, the planet was also small and sparsely populated, and thus quite boring. There was never any sort of danger, and James was having none of that shit. He wanted to get out and explore the fringes of known space, and when he reached the age of 17 he got an opportunity to join the Sol Alliance Navy with the guarantee that he would be on an exploration vessel. During training, he became enthralled with the mechanics of modern weaponry. Although he was trained as a CQC specialist to begin with, he was soon switched over to the position of weapons specialist, and within weeks he knew everything about the Alliance's small arms, along with several other weapons built by private manufacturers. When his training was finished, he was placed onboard a light expedition vessel. He and his crew marked several planets for future colonization, encountering all sorts of hostile wildlife, and on one occasion, a band of pirates. After doing this for seven years or so, James began to actually get bored. Even exploring planets seemed to become nothing more than just going through the motions. Land here, shoot anything with teeth the size of your arm, drop some beacons and survey probes, maintain the squad's weapons, extract from the planet, repeat. Maybe it was the idea of procedure that put James off. He wanted more unpredictability, which he got when he left the Navy and became a privateer. He began to help on explorations with random people rather than a government entity, and that helped make things a bit more fun, but it still was basically the same thing as before. Still, it allowed him to build a reputation as someone who could handle himself and was virtually without fear, not to mention he knew his way around a gun more than pretty much anyone else. In his days of exploring, he never went a day without having his curiosity satisfied, but he went nearly every day without any real excitement. When he heard about the appearance of the long-missing Lone Star, and that a crew was being assembled to enter the ship, he was more than interested in checking it out. This time, hopefully, he could satisfy both his curiosity and his need for some adrenaline. Quotes: "What can I say; shit happens." "Hold your horses! Fixing a plasma rifle takes time, and if I'm not careful it can blow us all up." "Well, that's a thing."</s> <\|message\|>Simon Brewer "T minus three and a half minutes, Felix." Simon kept his eyes on the field of floating rocks. They were in his field of view now, a roiling, seething mass of destruction that was tumbling towards them. With the Visipian behind them almost irate with their struggling, they finally came up with a plan. The umbilical would be essential in getting a docking secure, but that would require precision. Something...He knew who to ask. He kept himself in the co-pilot chair, but swivelled to face the interior of the ship. Farvis, was it? Wasn't he a doctor as well? He knew medical practitioners such as himself had a fine degree of motor precision in guiding things to where they were meant to be. As much as he liked having the alien on the controls, his brain told him a two man job would be better. This was a surgical procedure alright, and if no one was going to take charge, he would. "Farvis! You're a doctor, right? Why not get yourself in that airlock, help our friend here guide the umbilical! We need to do this soon or we're all dead meat!" He quickly swivelled back to the viewport. In the time it had taken for him to do all of that, the field of asteroids had grown in size. They had next to no time. Either this team work as a team or everything here would be for - The blue drones at the Star suddenly sprung to life, cutting through the hull section that their bot (Hundred, was it?) was clinging to. Uh oh. That added a wrinkle to the whole surgery. Now they needed a combat specialist out there to take care of the drones if Hundred and the Syndari woman were occupying themselves with helping the crew get in. An easy fix. He spun around again. "Alright, change of plans. Farvis, you man the umbilical monitor, guide it in remotely. You, Visipian whose name escapes me, you take his place in the airlock. You are armed, yes? You're perfect to take care of those blue drones harassing our crew outside. That good?" Once done, he returned his attention to the asteroids. "T minus two minutes."</s> <\|message\|>Mez "There's a lever inside the airlock, on the upper left side of the outer hatch. Yank it down and the umbilical will deploy. You can fine tune it using the monitor just below the lever and the controls beside it. Won't be needing a perfect lock, just one good enough to hold pressure until you get the party aboard." @SimplyJohn "Perfect." Mez replied. He moved to spring into action but the droids' change of movement caught his eye. "Looks like time's about to run out." He stated before moving back into rear bay. Quickly scouring the ship, his eyes fell on a equipment locker towards the end of the bay. He'd need a comm-link headset to be able to communicate with the Gygan outside. Mez crossed the bay in less that five strides and wrenched open the locker door. The following smirk on his face meant he'd found what he was looking for; a powerful shortwave comm-link headset. All he needed now was to cannibalize it for the transmitter and insert it into one of the many sub-ports of his Direct Neural Interface. He could use his body to amplify the transmission range and communicate with Hundred. Before he'd finished thinking of what he wanted to do, Mez was already walking towards the airlock, the transmitter was now sending out radio waves at 200% more power which allowed the waves to be able to cut through space. "Hundred, do you copy? Come in, Hundred. I am going to release the shuttle's umbilical early using the manual override. I need you to ensure a positive lock on with the Lone Star, nothing perfect but enough to pressurize the walkway. We have less than 5 minutes ETA on an asteroid shower which'll mean mission failure if we don't do this now." Mez punched the control panel of the airlock, pressurizing the small room. It took a few seconds but far longer than it needed. Once he was inside, he followed the Pilot's direction. True to his word, the lever was there. Mez pulled it which activated a series of loud clunks and a hissing sound. 'The umbilical must be moving.' He quickly turned his gaze to the monitor and keyed in a few simple commands via the control pad. Like everything else on board the shuttle, the computer systems proved rudimentary. So Mez only had to alter a few sub-routines in order to exact the optimum speed efficiency for the extending walkway.</s> <\|message\|>Hundred Kira Hundred's frown had never left. It certainly didn't change when the ships macrobot accompaniment swarmed out of the arresting airlock. With a thought she impelled the Dust further into the airlocks mechanisms. Ah. There was the problem. She should have checked first. Her comm crackled. She snarled at the pilots castigation. He was right to berate her. She had not performed as she had tacitly implied. Hundred took a moment in the flurry of activity around her person. She examined the Star bots' movement patterns. They may have been upkeep drones, trapped in a process loop, unable to perform their scheduled maintenance due to the faulty door mechanism. No, not faulty, sabotaged. The bots surrounded her, the emitters on their cutting lasers adjusting. Her frown deepened even further. Hostile then. She was more interested in the one maneuvering over to her micro-channel. They had the wherewithal to target her Dust. Curious. Her comm was filled with the beam of another of her mission mates. The Visipian. Hundred did not like the Visipians. The Consortium did not like them either, but she didn't see that as much of a point in their favor. They were dogmatic, fascistic, too much like the Consortium for comfort. But their methods were barbarous. Conquest. War. Wasteful. But most damning of all, they possessed technologies that Gyges had yet to replicate. Divine Energy. A superstitious designation. A weak grip upon the fire whose secrets they alone had discovered. But he had given her a gift. A goal. Redemption. Five minutes. "It will be done in one." Hundred raised her arms, fingers flickering tactile commands. Dust around her compacted and formed, layer upon layer of tightly packed Fullerenes wrapped around each other, growing, hardening, sharpening. From Dust to dagger, little black spikes of graphene, bristling around her in a satellite sphere. She looked around herself at the busy little bots. So large, so few, so primitive. Her hand waved dismissively. Her teeth bared. It was almost a smile. Punching into the closest hostile robots, the spikes split upon intentional faults, fragmenting into flechettes, shredding the interiors of the bots trying to unseat her footing. Striding forwards a second wave of spikes formed to deal with the rest of the offensive constructs. She flexed her right hand, just above her open palm another longer, leaner blade began to form the constructing edge of it's black blade radiating a sharp golden glow. She stepped over the half-melted lip of the plating she was standing on, moving back towards the airlock. Her other hand waved dismissively again, the second set of spikes shot forth to enforce her lethal contempt for the machines that had lost her face. It would be done in the next 47 seconds. She was keeping count.</s> <\|message\|>Sevyn Spades The moment the tiny little bots began firing their lasers, Sevyn fired into the swarm, jumping from target to target. She felt the shuttle beneath her inching every slowly forward as it clumsily tried to align itself with the open airlock. She considered the idea of throwing one of her EMP grenades into the two meter hole, a relatively easy target, but deemed it too risky once the shuttle started extending its umbilical tube. Once the tube started moving, Sevyn moved herself to its lip, still firing at the droids as the silent thump, thump, thump of her magnetic boots causing a dull reverb throughout the umbilical. Meanwhile Jemini tried to make herself useful by calculating the trajectory of the tube and sending the necessary minor adjustments needed to align it with the Lone Star to the shuttle pilot while she took shots at the stationary droids. She chirped and whirred angrily, even beeping once to express her extreme displeasure at having to work with the current shuttle pilot, though the droid couldn't place a value on either Sevyn's or the less-than-adequate shuttle pilot's maneuvering, seeing as how both were equally annoying. Sevyn was edging out on top though, considering she was standing at the lip of tube, ready to snap herself into the tube right before it would attach to the Lone Star instead of staying outside of taking care of all the bots all because of her stupid desire to be the first inside the derelict dreadnought. But then again, why else would she have teamed up with a bunch of ruffians if the rest couldn't handle themselves in a little scrap.</s>	<\|message\|>James "JR" Rourke JR was no less anxious to get on the Star, but the rate at which people seemed to be stepping out was both impressive and astonishing. Aside from the Gygan, it didn't really make much sense for anyone to be going for the ship without having been docked, but at least it made for some entertainment. At least until it seemed as though things were... well, going. He definitely began to get an apprehensive feeling about boarding the ship, though it made him all the more anxious to get onboard and find out why. There was definitely something about that ship. He stood himself up at the mention of them docking with the dreadnought, knowing that it wouldn't take much longer now. He was more than ready to board, though he couldn't help but be distracted by two of his apparent crewmates' bickering. The two of them were either going at each others throats, or organizing their next romantic getaway, or both. It was definitely hard to tell, and he was sure plenty of sarcasm was flying through the shuttle. He couldn't help but chuckle at some of their remarks. The window through the airlock showed their point of entry, a few hundred meters away at this point. The movements of the shuttle were jarring at points, but JR bore through it. It definitely wouldn't be the first time. "Well then, who's ready to party?" he asked, eyes still fixed on the Lone Star's airlock.</s>
<\|description\|>Sevyn Spades Race: Hailing from the planet Solun, a planet host to ammonia based life, the Syndari first established themselves in the galactic community as aggressive imperialists, quickly colonizing nearby planets whether they be settled already or not, terraforming planets to suit their needs. They spread far and wide, subjugating species after species under their iron fists and quickly becoming feared terrors among their galaxy. It was only through a coalition of several galactic civilizations and a coordinated uprising of all their slave species did the Syndari Empire stumble and fall, the entirety of the Syndari people forced to retreat back to Solun. It would be many years before the Syndari dared to venture off planet and recolonize their local solar system, long after the last whispers of their past had faded, and it was only very recently that the Syndari have been reintroduced back into the galaxy, this time as a keen and amiable mercantile race with perhaps not-so-surprisingly elite mercenary forces. The Syndari are a primarily mercantile race quickly becoming some of the most renowned traders throughout the known universe despite having relatively recently joined the galactic community at large. While formally holding no standing army, their interests are primarily protected by Syndari private military contractors, acting as the race's pseudo-military force and regular soldiers of fortune. Solun, their homeworld, lies far beyond the normal lifezones of its twin stars. However, the world has a high pressure greenhouse atmosphere that traps enough heat to support an ammonia-based biochemistry. As a result, the Syndari have to wear high pressure suits and breathers when dealing with other species due to typical nitrogen-oxygen air being poisonous to them, and in the low pressures tolerable to most species Syndari would actually be split apart. An interesting note about the Syndari race is that despite being newcomers to the galactic community, ruins and items reminiscent of ancient Syndari culture have been found all throughout their galaxy, suggesting that the Syndari had been a space faring race in the ancient past. However, little records exist of the time many archaeologists would date this Syndari culture. WARNING: Many Syndari exhibit signs of mild socio- or psychopathy in comparison to many other galactic species. However they are commonly devoid of the aggressive or irresponsible traits of the antisocial personality disorder. Appearance: Equipment: * Ranged Weapon The Synapse Armaments 679 Blaster Rifle is the embodiment of the trope "if it ain't broke, don't fix it." Mechanically very similar to their previous Model 673 and is in essence just a minor upgrade to the rifle, the 679 boasts a greater charge capacity with a more efficient rechargeable battery pack. The only other difference was that the gun's design has been streamlined and focused on creating a professional look for the professional soldier. Otherwise the weapon still packs the same, deadly punch of its predecessor. * Uses high powered and dense energy beams to melt through flesh and armor alike * 150 round energy pack * Effective range of far enough to kill you * Sidearm The Synapse Armament 574 plasma weapon favors power over control; saying it has a bit of a recoil is an understatement. This made the 574 the weapon of choice for thugs, pirates, and other persons of unsavory natures due to it's high firepower and intimidation factor when the weapon fires. * Fires bolts of superheated plasma that can burn through two inches of solid titanium alloy * Uses heatsinks to provide quick cooldown of weapon * Other One of Emtek's first forays into the robotics field, the original Ardie proved to be popular with a wide number of people as it saw use with government armies to bounty hunters to everything that lied in between. The Mark I has since been phased out by later Mark II and III models, but there are a few that still float around, providing testament to the Mark I's reliable nature. * Equipped with a simple AI focused in scouting and reconnaissance [MODIFIED TO INCLUDE STATE OF THE ART HACKING AND TRANSLATION FUNCTIONS] * Video feed can be transmitted to over a range of 1000km without the use of satellites [MODIFIED TO BE ABLE TO TRANSMIT UP TO 9000KM] * Equipped with 4m self defense shock probe [MODIFIED TO BE RETROFITTED WITH 2 HANDGUNS OR ITEMS OF EQUIVALENT SIZE] * [INSTALLED WITH STATE OF THE ART TRANSLATION SOFTWARE / ERROR: FAILURE TO COMPLY FOLLOWING COMMAND "UNINSTALL FOUL LANGUAGE SUBROUTINE"] * [MODIFIED TO BE ABLE TO RECEIVE AND TRANSMIT ANY COMMUNICATION FREQUENCIES] * [MODIFIED WITH STATE OF THE ART STEALTH SYSTEMS] * Blast radius of 30m * Releases an explosion of superheated plasma * Lethal radius of 10m; Wounding radius of 12m Bio: Born into the average mercantile family on Solun, Sevyn lived a fairly average life. She grew up, went to school, and earned an unrecorded juvenile streak miles wide. However, she had an unusually keen interest in spacecrafts of all shapes and sizes having been introduced to the racing scene while still in the early stages of her life and could often be found spectating flying crafts of all shapes and sizes when she wasn't about mucking up trouble. It wasn't long before she got into the scene itself. Like many she started the lowest of the low, a pilot jockey that was willing to get into flying bucket if only to feel the roar of an engine beneath her and the simple rush of being able to fly. It was also her only real escape once her parents disowned her and left the young Syndari to her own devices after too many years of having to harbor what they perceived as a criminal under their household. Luckily, Sevyn proved herself to be more than just a simple jockey by winning nearly every race that she competed in, creating a legend for herself in the underground circuit. Such great fame usually also came with great money, which she used to further herself toward becoming a ship engineer and an actual certified spacecraft pilot. Yet the Syndari could not tear herself away from the racing scene which would unfortunately lead to a series of events where she would steal a prominent mercenary captain's prized fighter craft, get caught, and then by law become the property of said mercenary captain which were arguably the worst years of her life. Although mainly because there was this one time where the captain forced Sevyn to lick a toilet clean and becoming bedridden for days afterwards. Otherwise if was a complete blast of time as the mercenary captain had given the Syndari a brief two hour crash course on how to aim a gun and shoot it without killing herself before dropping her off in the middle of the mission with the rest of his merry band of mercenaries, acting as only mere cannon fodder alongside all the other servants the mercenary band had happened to accrue over the years. Amazingly, Sevyn didn't die at the end of the first month of her servitude, which was reason enough for the mercenary captain to prematurely end her lifelong sentence and recruit her into his company of killers-for-hire. She could not forget her love for ship however, and since no one in the mercenary band would ever trust her piloting anything ever again due to a second incident with a prized cruiser of a different mercenary captain, she resigned herself to endlessly studying countless ship manuals and staying up late nights reading ghost stories of various spacecraft lost to the depths of space forever. So naturally, when she heard one of these ghost ships, the Lone Star, had come back from whatever empty grave it had gone to, she knew she had to board it and discover all its secrets. Unfortunately, she knew the mercenary band would never entertain the idea of having to compete with almost literally millions if not billions of people just for the chance to board some dead, deadly, derelict dreadnought. So she did the most logical thing, which was to steal a third mercenary captain's prized corvette (admittedly a little less ambitious than usual), rush off to the nearest spaceport, ring up the nearest United Alliance Navy base and wait for their inevitable reply of yes. Skills: * Fantasticly reckless pilot * Fantastic mechanical engineer * Skilled marksman Non-standard Abilities: * The absolute best at hijacking prized spacecraft Quote: "Okay, I get that you're angry and that I completely ruined your ship, but MAN weren't we going so awesomely fast?"</s> <\|message\|>Mez "There's a lever inside the airlock, on the upper left side of the outer hatch. Yank it down and the umbilical will deploy. You can fine tune it using the monitor just below the lever and the controls beside it. Won't be needing a perfect lock, just one good enough to hold pressure until you get the party aboard." @SimplyJohn "Perfect." Mez replied. He moved to spring into action but the droids' change of movement caught his eye. "Looks like time's about to run out." He stated before moving back into rear bay. Quickly scouring the ship, his eyes fell on a equipment locker towards the end of the bay. He'd need a comm-link headset to be able to communicate with the Gygan outside. Mez crossed the bay in less that five strides and wrenched open the locker door. The following smirk on his face meant he'd found what he was looking for; a powerful shortwave comm-link headset. All he needed now was to cannibalize it for the transmitter and insert it into one of the many sub-ports of his Direct Neural Interface. He could use his body to amplify the transmission range and communicate with Hundred. Before he'd finished thinking of what he wanted to do, Mez was already walking towards the airlock, the transmitter was now sending out radio waves at 200% more power which allowed the waves to be able to cut through space. "Hundred, do you copy? Come in, Hundred. I am going to release the shuttle's umbilical early using the manual override. I need you to ensure a positive lock on with the Lone Star, nothing perfect but enough to pressurize the walkway. We have less than 5 minutes ETA on an asteroid shower which'll mean mission failure if we don't do this now." Mez punched the control panel of the airlock, pressurizing the small room. It took a few seconds but far longer than it needed. Once he was inside, he followed the Pilot's direction. True to his word, the lever was there. Mez pulled it which activated a series of loud clunks and a hissing sound. 'The umbilical must be moving.' He quickly turned his gaze to the monitor and keyed in a few simple commands via the control pad. Like everything else on board the shuttle, the computer systems proved rudimentary. So Mez only had to alter a few sub-routines in order to exact the optimum speed efficiency for the extending walkway.</s> <\|message\|>Hundred Kira Hundred's frown had never left. It certainly didn't change when the ships macrobot accompaniment swarmed out of the arresting airlock. With a thought she impelled the Dust further into the airlocks mechanisms. Ah. There was the problem. She should have checked first. Her comm crackled. She snarled at the pilots castigation. He was right to berate her. She had not performed as she had tacitly implied. Hundred took a moment in the flurry of activity around her person. She examined the Star bots' movement patterns. They may have been upkeep drones, trapped in a process loop, unable to perform their scheduled maintenance due to the faulty door mechanism. No, not faulty, sabotaged. The bots surrounded her, the emitters on their cutting lasers adjusting. Her frown deepened even further. Hostile then. She was more interested in the one maneuvering over to her micro-channel. They had the wherewithal to target her Dust. Curious. Her comm was filled with the beam of another of her mission mates. The Visipian. Hundred did not like the Visipians. The Consortium did not like them either, but she didn't see that as much of a point in their favor. They were dogmatic, fascistic, too much like the Consortium for comfort. But their methods were barbarous. Conquest. War. Wasteful. But most damning of all, they possessed technologies that Gyges had yet to replicate. Divine Energy. A superstitious designation. A weak grip upon the fire whose secrets they alone had discovered. But he had given her a gift. A goal. Redemption. Five minutes. "It will be done in one." Hundred raised her arms, fingers flickering tactile commands. Dust around her compacted and formed, layer upon layer of tightly packed Fullerenes wrapped around each other, growing, hardening, sharpening. From Dust to dagger, little black spikes of graphene, bristling around her in a satellite sphere. She looked around herself at the busy little bots. So large, so few, so primitive. Her hand waved dismissively. Her teeth bared. It was almost a smile. Punching into the closest hostile robots, the spikes split upon intentional faults, fragmenting into flechettes, shredding the interiors of the bots trying to unseat her footing. Striding forwards a second wave of spikes formed to deal with the rest of the offensive constructs. She flexed her right hand, just above her open palm another longer, leaner blade began to form the constructing edge of it's black blade radiating a sharp golden glow. She stepped over the half-melted lip of the plating she was standing on, moving back towards the airlock. Her other hand waved dismissively again, the second set of spikes shot forth to enforce her lethal contempt for the machines that had lost her face. It would be done in the next 47 seconds. She was keeping count.</s>	<\|message\|>Sevyn Spades The moment the tiny little bots began firing their lasers, Sevyn fired into the swarm, jumping from target to target. She felt the shuttle beneath her inching every slowly forward as it clumsily tried to align itself with the open airlock. She considered the idea of throwing one of her EMP grenades into the two meter hole, a relatively easy target, but deemed it too risky once the shuttle started extending its umbilical tube. Once the tube started moving, Sevyn moved herself to its lip, still firing at the droids as the silent thump, thump, thump of her magnetic boots causing a dull reverb throughout the umbilical. Meanwhile Jemini tried to make herself useful by calculating the trajectory of the tube and sending the necessary minor adjustments needed to align it with the Lone Star to the shuttle pilot while she took shots at the stationary droids. She chirped and whirred angrily, even beeping once to express her extreme displeasure at having to work with the current shuttle pilot, though the droid couldn't place a value on either Sevyn's or the less-than-adequate shuttle pilot's maneuvering, seeing as how both were equally annoying. Sevyn was edging out on top though, considering she was standing at the lip of tube, ready to snap herself into the tube right before it would attach to the Lone Star instead of staying outside of taking care of all the bots all because of her stupid desire to be the first inside the derelict dreadnought. But then again, why else would she have teamed up with a bunch of ruffians if the rest couldn't handle themselves in a little scrap.</s>
<\|description\|>Sevyn Spades Race: Hailing from the planet Solun, a planet host to ammonia based life, the Syndari first established themselves in the galactic community as aggressive imperialists, quickly colonizing nearby planets whether they be settled already or not, terraforming planets to suit their needs. They spread far and wide, subjugating species after species under their iron fists and quickly becoming feared terrors among their galaxy. It was only through a coalition of several galactic civilizations and a coordinated uprising of all their slave species did the Syndari Empire stumble and fall, the entirety of the Syndari people forced to retreat back to Solun. It would be many years before the Syndari dared to venture off planet and recolonize their local solar system, long after the last whispers of their past had faded, and it was only very recently that the Syndari have been reintroduced back into the galaxy, this time as a keen and amiable mercantile race with perhaps not-so-surprisingly elite mercenary forces. The Syndari are a primarily mercantile race quickly becoming some of the most renowned traders throughout the known universe despite having relatively recently joined the galactic community at large. While formally holding no standing army, their interests are primarily protected by Syndari private military contractors, acting as the race's pseudo-military force and regular soldiers of fortune. Solun, their homeworld, lies far beyond the normal lifezones of its twin stars. However, the world has a high pressure greenhouse atmosphere that traps enough heat to support an ammonia-based biochemistry. As a result, the Syndari have to wear high pressure suits and breathers when dealing with other species due to typical nitrogen-oxygen air being poisonous to them, and in the low pressures tolerable to most species Syndari would actually be split apart. An interesting note about the Syndari race is that despite being newcomers to the galactic community, ruins and items reminiscent of ancient Syndari culture have been found all throughout their galaxy, suggesting that the Syndari had been a space faring race in the ancient past. However, little records exist of the time many archaeologists would date this Syndari culture. WARNING: Many Syndari exhibit signs of mild socio- or psychopathy in comparison to many other galactic species. However they are commonly devoid of the aggressive or irresponsible traits of the antisocial personality disorder. Appearance: Equipment: * Ranged Weapon The Synapse Armaments 679 Blaster Rifle is the embodiment of the trope "if it ain't broke, don't fix it." Mechanically very similar to their previous Model 673 and is in essence just a minor upgrade to the rifle, the 679 boasts a greater charge capacity with a more efficient rechargeable battery pack. The only other difference was that the gun's design has been streamlined and focused on creating a professional look for the professional soldier. Otherwise the weapon still packs the same, deadly punch of its predecessor. * Uses high powered and dense energy beams to melt through flesh and armor alike * 150 round energy pack * Effective range of far enough to kill you * Sidearm The Synapse Armament 574 plasma weapon favors power over control; saying it has a bit of a recoil is an understatement. This made the 574 the weapon of choice for thugs, pirates, and other persons of unsavory natures due to it's high firepower and intimidation factor when the weapon fires. * Fires bolts of superheated plasma that can burn through two inches of solid titanium alloy * Uses heatsinks to provide quick cooldown of weapon * Other One of Emtek's first forays into the robotics field, the original Ardie proved to be popular with a wide number of people as it saw use with government armies to bounty hunters to everything that lied in between. The Mark I has since been phased out by later Mark II and III models, but there are a few that still float around, providing testament to the Mark I's reliable nature. * Equipped with a simple AI focused in scouting and reconnaissance [MODIFIED TO INCLUDE STATE OF THE ART HACKING AND TRANSLATION FUNCTIONS] * Video feed can be transmitted to over a range of 1000km without the use of satellites [MODIFIED TO BE ABLE TO TRANSMIT UP TO 9000KM] * Equipped with 4m self defense shock probe [MODIFIED TO BE RETROFITTED WITH 2 HANDGUNS OR ITEMS OF EQUIVALENT SIZE] * [INSTALLED WITH STATE OF THE ART TRANSLATION SOFTWARE / ERROR: FAILURE TO COMPLY FOLLOWING COMMAND "UNINSTALL FOUL LANGUAGE SUBROUTINE"] * [MODIFIED TO BE ABLE TO RECEIVE AND TRANSMIT ANY COMMUNICATION FREQUENCIES] * [MODIFIED WITH STATE OF THE ART STEALTH SYSTEMS] * Blast radius of 30m * Releases an explosion of superheated plasma * Lethal radius of 10m; Wounding radius of 12m Bio: Born into the average mercantile family on Solun, Sevyn lived a fairly average life. She grew up, went to school, and earned an unrecorded juvenile streak miles wide. However, she had an unusually keen interest in spacecrafts of all shapes and sizes having been introduced to the racing scene while still in the early stages of her life and could often be found spectating flying crafts of all shapes and sizes when she wasn't about mucking up trouble. It wasn't long before she got into the scene itself. Like many she started the lowest of the low, a pilot jockey that was willing to get into flying bucket if only to feel the roar of an engine beneath her and the simple rush of being able to fly. It was also her only real escape once her parents disowned her and left the young Syndari to her own devices after too many years of having to harbor what they perceived as a criminal under their household. Luckily, Sevyn proved herself to be more than just a simple jockey by winning nearly every race that she competed in, creating a legend for herself in the underground circuit. Such great fame usually also came with great money, which she used to further herself toward becoming a ship engineer and an actual certified spacecraft pilot. Yet the Syndari could not tear herself away from the racing scene which would unfortunately lead to a series of events where she would steal a prominent mercenary captain's prized fighter craft, get caught, and then by law become the property of said mercenary captain which were arguably the worst years of her life. Although mainly because there was this one time where the captain forced Sevyn to lick a toilet clean and becoming bedridden for days afterwards. Otherwise if was a complete blast of time as the mercenary captain had given the Syndari a brief two hour crash course on how to aim a gun and shoot it without killing herself before dropping her off in the middle of the mission with the rest of his merry band of mercenaries, acting as only mere cannon fodder alongside all the other servants the mercenary band had happened to accrue over the years. Amazingly, Sevyn didn't die at the end of the first month of her servitude, which was reason enough for the mercenary captain to prematurely end her lifelong sentence and recruit her into his company of killers-for-hire. She could not forget her love for ship however, and since no one in the mercenary band would ever trust her piloting anything ever again due to a second incident with a prized cruiser of a different mercenary captain, she resigned herself to endlessly studying countless ship manuals and staying up late nights reading ghost stories of various spacecraft lost to the depths of space forever. So naturally, when she heard one of these ghost ships, the Lone Star, had come back from whatever empty grave it had gone to, she knew she had to board it and discover all its secrets. Unfortunately, she knew the mercenary band would never entertain the idea of having to compete with almost literally millions if not billions of people just for the chance to board some dead, deadly, derelict dreadnought. So she did the most logical thing, which was to steal a third mercenary captain's prized corvette (admittedly a little less ambitious than usual), rush off to the nearest spaceport, ring up the nearest United Alliance Navy base and wait for their inevitable reply of yes. Skills: * Fantasticly reckless pilot * Fantastic mechanical engineer * Skilled marksman Non-standard Abilities: * The absolute best at hijacking prized spacecraft Quote: "Okay, I get that you're angry and that I completely ruined your ship, but MAN weren't we going so awesomely fast?"</s> <\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name The sudden shift in air pressure sent a wave of fetid, stale gas down the companionway as Mez yanked the airlock door open, and a heavy thunking sound could be heard from the inner hatch as some ancient mechanical safety feature quickly sealed the rest of the ship off from the breach, preventing any more air from escaping.</s> <\|message\|>Simon Brewer "Well I guess we're in. Quickly now, the asteroid field is coming." Simon nodded in appreciation as Mez swiftly handled the issue of the door not opening. Superheated plasma definitely ate through metal, no matter how reinforced it was. He simply followed the Visipian in, his visor light shining a bright red cross on the floor and walls wherever he looked. It wasn't particularly bright; without power, probably not even emergency power judging from how long it'd been gone, the Lone Star's interior was completely pitch black, save for the light streaming in through the open airlock and whatever glowy pieces of equipment the team had. It was quiet, too quiet, but here he was: a galaxy first, the first team to ever set foot on the Lone Star ever since it disappeared a decade ago. If they weren't on such a clandestine mission, he was sure that the whole thing would've been covered by news casters all over the sector, if not the whole system. This was the sort of thing that corporations won and lost money over, that built fortunes or lost them…or something absurdly profound like that. All Simon had in mind was his mission. Simon extended an arm and opened his hand, exposing the scanners built into the palm and fingers of his armour. Time to get a scope on what they were going to be dealing with. "System, full environment scan. Optics, visual scan, identify key facilities." With a soft bleep his armour got to working out their surroundings. A faint blue beam shot forth from his palm as he swept his hand slowly back and forth around the whole docking bay area, trying to take in as much information as he could, while his optics scanned and updated his heads-up display with key details; doors leading to unknown areas, potential hazards, along with any outstanding features within the bay that might've been of interest. The micro fans on his chest plate whirred softly away as they took in sample particulates from the air for sampling, while he panned his vision slowly across the entire bay, his optics scanning each nook and cranny, highlighting whatever was of interest in a pale blue outline, with details on what they were or where they led, if what was highlighted was a door. The full analysis took only a few seconds, and soon he had his samples taken and visual references gathered. Soon his armour would finish the physical analysis and it would give him the most important data he needed: could they breathe in here?</s>	<\|message\|>Sevyn Spades It was a conundrum. How to open a door without the door handle. Or in this case an impossibly heavy and impossibly thick airlock that happened to have its wheel knocked off, either by the robots or hurtling debris. Sevyn could plug Jemini into the wheel socket and use the bot at a wheel, but when brought up to the drone the Syndarin was answered by a rapid succession of high pitched beeps and whirrs, followed by attempted mutilation by blowtorch. That meant that the plan was a go. Before Sevyn even had the chance to reach over for the drone however, a barrage of plasma fire splashed against the door, melting away the joints of the airlock. Which meant someone has shot at the Lone Star The Syndarin could only stare in horror, locking her magnetic boots reflexively against the sudden decompression. Luckily, that didn't happen, but the fetid stench coming from inside seemed to more than make up for it. Curious, as that meant there was a working atmosphere inside the ship, which meant that some power had to be operational which shouldn't have surprised Sevyn, really. Many ships were more than capable of running ten or more years without having to dock at any spaceport, provided they passed by the occasional gas giant every so often. Sure, minor systems would have broken down, but the ship itself would still have kept chugging. But still, someone shot the Lone Star. That also meant that whatever scanners the United Alliance Navy had used to scan the ship had either been tampered, damaged, or jammed somehow. Sevyn gave them all an almost equal split chance of probability, with extra points going toward jammed. It was the Vespian. But that was a discussion for another time because if the ship had power, that meant main protocols and subroutines were running, which meant an automatic bulkhead lockdown of their immediate surrounding section. While they certainly could blow through each and every one of them, the bulkheads would keep on shutting down and their progressed would be slowed immeasurably. Not to mention he shot at the Lone Star. Sevyn made her frustration known by ignoring everything the smug Vespian said to her, putting a hand to his helmet providing a direct communications channel and screamed, "WHAT. HAVE. YOU. DONE." The Syndarin stormed off angrily and hurriedly, pushing past the medic man and with the help of Jemini, began working on unlocking the inner door before the umbilical detached and the laws of pressure would forcibly remove everyone far, far away from the Lone Star and presumably into the then-onrushing asteroids. All without blowing the inner airlock to absolute shit, of course.</s>
<\|description\|>Mez Age: 28 Race: Visipian - The Visipian race, otherwise known as The Silent Empire, are primarily a Religious-Extremist race, lead by a Stratocratic Government of Cybernetically Augmented Beings, who are commonly referred to as the Eternal Lords. Their sole mission as an Empire is to convert all other beings of the Universe to live under the rule and religious guidance of their dormant deity; The AllHeart. To achieve this mission, the Government, supported heavily by the entire population, impose a completely militarian lifestyle upon all beings within the Empire's control. Through this tradition, spanning thousands of years, the Empire has evolved into an Advanced Military Power. It is by utilizing this Military Power as well as the Divine Energy Source of Jurichara (Mantra), granted to them by The AllHeart, that they have resolved to converting the Universe to follow their One True God. Failure to submit to The AllHeart's rule will result in Conversion of the rebellious nation; A painful disintegration process that converts matter into Jurichara. Crimes: Desertion, Political/Civilian Assassination, Intergalactic Subterfuge, Sabotage, Trespassing & Terrorism. Personality: Confident. Egotistic. Sarcastic. Calculating. Anarchist. Prideful. Mildly Xenophobic. Mez is a law unto himself, he follows no rules or laws, no moral or ethical guidelines and bends the knee to no one. At least, not any more. He is confident in his abilities and hires himself out more to constantly test them, than as a way of earning money. During his missions, he constantly belittles people or systems that are below his skill level. If he can get passed it with ease then it is no more than a trivial matter and not really worth his time. Despite being this way, however, he is loyal to the mission and will do everything in his power to see that it is completed with success. Skills: - Expert Infiltration Specialist - Expert Small Arms & Weapons Proficiency - Skilled Computer-Based Systems Engineer - Proficient Acrobat - Experienced Hand-to-Hand Combatant Non-standard Abilities: Shadowstep: Invoking the divine energy of Jurichara, given to every Visipian by The AllHeart, Mez may at will, change into a smoke-like shadow form to camouflage himself. In this state, Mez is extremely hard to spot. After around two minutes, his form begins to solidify where he starts to become visible once again. Cybernetically Augmented: Every Visipian undergoes cybernetic augmentation from birth to enhance their physical abilities and ensure a legitimate system of control. Aside from enhancements to bone structure, muscle tissue and vital organs, which improve their physical strength, speed and durability, the Visipians are fitted with a Direct Neural Interface which allows them to insert their minds into machine software or, more intrusively, receive software that may control their minds. Whilst the majority of the population do not require these measures, when the DNI's are implanted, a sleeper software is downloaded into the receiver's brain that, upon activation, can render that person completely under the control of the software owner. Which, in this case, happens to be the Visipian Government. Equipment: Rasgrid's Retribution: Dual Mantra-Infused Energy Pistols designed to recycle and compress latent Jurichara Energy that lingers throughout the cosmos, then forcefully expel the heated energy through a reinforced pistol-based mechanism which fires the energy as super-heated projectiles. These are Mez's mainstay weapons. He reaches for these first before anything else and utilizes them expertly and efficiently. They were awarded to him for his outstanding service during his time as a Visipian citizen. The pistols each possess their own name. One being Osebon and the other being Ahael. Xerxes' Silence: A singular 10-inch curved combat blade. The blade is forged from Visipian Steel, a highly versatile material that is renown for its incredible cutting ability. It's name comes from the unnatural property is possesses. The blade, when slicing through any material, doesn't make a sound. This property makes it the perfect weapon for any assassin. Mez was gifted this by the Eternal Lord Xerxes himself for his constant bravery and unparalleled success during his time as a Visipian citizen. Rosenthal's Blessing: This is less of a singular object and more of a series of upgrades performed on his standard issue Cybernetic Augmentations. The Eternal Lord Rosenthal oversaw the upgrade procedure personally, which resulted in Mez receiving a noticeable boost in his cybernetic abilities as well as the addition of the highly-coveted Jurichara Energy Shielding. With only two other Visipians receiving this blessing before him, Mez was vaulted into Visipian knighthood. The shield itself protects the user much like a power suit would with the exception that it remains non-visible until the need for it arises. While it may certainly stop series of bullets or energy shots from small arms fire, it would surely dissipate from a high-powered rifle shot, although the user would remain mostly unharmed during dissipation. In this event, the user will need to enter a deep state of meditation to gather enough Jurichara to re-power to shielding. Bio: Born as the son of a traitor, Mez was practically abandoned as a child after both of his parents were executed for treason. He was doomed to spend his life in a juvenile camp, destined to grow up being the lowest class of citizen within The Silent Empire. However, Xerxes, one of the Eternal Lords, took pity on him and ordered Mez to be relocated to his private estate. Xerxes would raise him as his own son. Mez grew well and, under the tutelage of an Eternal Lord, he excelled through the ranks of the military with ease. By the time he was 16, Mez was transferred to the Elite Forces section of the Visipian military specifically joining as a member of the V.I.R.U.S. Squads (Vacuum Insertion Raid Under Siege). This raid is a Ship-Boarding battle tactic. Each soldier is projected via an Insertion Pod, usually from a battleship or larger-class ship and are aimed towards an enemy spacecraft. The pods are controlled mainly by automated systems but also provide a manual override for the soldier inside to control, once the pod reaches the opposition's ship, it begins to latch itself onto the hull and proceeds to burn its way through the armour plating, effectively creating its own docking station. Whilst burning through the hull, the pod secretes an organic membrane that seals the breach, preventing the vacuum of space from tearing the ship apart. When the pod has burnt through to the inside of the ship, the front of the pod will open, allowing the person inside to exit onto the enemy ship. From there the Elite Forces soldier can proceed to exact any mission objectives they have been given, ranging from sabotaging weapon systems and engines, to complete capture of the enemy vessel. Mez proved himself repeatedly on each mission and eventually his name started to become well known. The son of the Eternal Lord Xerxes was fast becoming a hero within the Visipian ranks. At the age of 21, Mez was honoured by the Commander of the Visipian Fleet & General of all Military Operations; The Eternal Lord Rasgrid. She bestowed upon him her personal energy pistols and issued him with the new rank of Warmaster. With this new rank came the opportunity and the honour of new and dangerous missions. These missions typically consisted of Assassinations, Sabotage and the retrieval of highly sensitive information by any means. It was after the success of his first mission, the assassination of a decorated military general on board a capital-class warship, that Xerxes gifted him with a specially made blade to assist him in his future missions. Up until he was the age of 25, Mez's life had been an unexpected story of success. He had attained the highest, most revered rank that the Visipian military had to offer. He was a Champion of Visipia. His deeds were legendary, there were statues raised on Planet Visipia, the Homeworld of The Silent Empire, in his honour. The population adored him and he adored them. For Mez, he could think of no higher honour than to be a Champion of his people. The Eternal Lords, however, had one last blessing. They were going to grant him a Lordship. He was to become the thirteenth member of The Eternal Lords and live the rest of his life as as a King. But it wasn't to be. Merely days before his inauguration, Xerxes revealed the truth about his real parents and how he had come to live such a fortunate life. When he heard the news, Mez was devastated. His entire life, everything he had achieved had been a lie. At first he was too shocked to even think, let alone speak. But soon anger began to rise within him and it quickly turned to rage. Before he knew it, Mez was acting without thought. He struck his adopted father down, the resulting noise alerted the honour guards outside of his quarters who saw Mez standing over the injured Eternal Lord. Immediately, the alarm was sounded and the warrant for Mez's arrest announced. He was wanted for the attempted murder of an Eternal Lord and Treason against The Silent Empire. He escaped capture by hijacking Xerxes' personal ship and warp-jumping to the edge of Visipian space. Once he had reached the outer edges of his people's territory, he set a course for the farthest side of the galaxy and put himself into cryosleep. When he awoke, he had arrived at a bandit-owned outpost where he began his life as a mercenary for hire. Quote: "I have one rule: No questions. 'Cause as far as you or anyone else are concerned, I'm just a guy who gets shit done. And I'm pretty fucking good at it too...make sure you tell 'em that bit."</s> <\|message\|>James "JR" Rourke JR was no less anxious to get on the Star, but the rate at which people seemed to be stepping out was both impressive and astonishing. Aside from the Gygan, it didn't really make much sense for anyone to be going for the ship without having been docked, but at least it made for some entertainment. At least until it seemed as though things were... well, going. He definitely began to get an apprehensive feeling about boarding the ship, though it made him all the more anxious to get onboard and find out why. There was definitely something about that ship. He stood himself up at the mention of them docking with the dreadnought, knowing that it wouldn't take much longer now. He was more than ready to board, though he couldn't help but be distracted by two of his apparent crewmates' bickering. The two of them were either going at each others throats, or organizing their next romantic getaway, or both. It was definitely hard to tell, and he was sure plenty of sarcasm was flying through the shuttle. He couldn't help but chuckle at some of their remarks. The window through the airlock showed their point of entry, a few hundred meters away at this point. The movements of the shuttle were jarring at points, but JR bore through it. It definitely wouldn't be the first time. "Well then, who's ready to party?" he asked, eyes still fixed on the Lone Star's airlock.</s> <\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name "Watch out, we're incoming!" Felix screamed into the radio as the shuttle drew closer to the dreadnought, its thruster fire swelling across the ancient plating, burning away a few of the scurrying droids as they finished cutting into the hull plating. They seemed unconcerned with their dwindling numbers as both Sevyn and Hundred targeted their colleagues, instead setting into the damaged innards of the ship's docking mechanism with a single-minded devotion. The spinning hull fragment spun off into the cold darkness of space, drifting passed the shuttle's viewports with an almost serene grace. A groaning shriek of twisting metal echoed inside the shuttle's compartments as the umbilical made contact with the Lone Star's hull, scraping a couple of inches before the magnetic clamps managed to lock into place on the ancient plating. The placement wasn't ideal with the maintenance hatch a little off-centre, but it was a good solid lock which would be more than sufficient for the party to board. "You guys had better be going," Felix called through the 'com as his fingers danced a grim fandango across the thruster controls. "That asteroid belt's coming up fast."</s> <\|message\|>Simon Brewer "T minus one minute and closing!" That was the last thing that escaped Simon's mouth before several tons of space-grade steel plowed straight into the Star's hull. The screech was ear splitting, but after all was done, the umbilical was locked firmly in place by the magnetic clamps. Felix had done his job, now it was time for them to do theirs. Simon stood, unclipped a slightly bent piece of plas-steel from his chest plate and bolted it into place on the back of his neck guard. The folded piece of equipment powered up and unfolded with a rhythmic whirring and clicking, extending itself up over his head and around his ears, the helmet slowly forming itself in place. The last thing to form itself was the faceplate, which he left up while he excited the cockpit, not without giving Felix a pat on the shoulder. "Good job Felix, thank you. We'll take it from here, you busy yourself with getting out of the way of those rocks." Without waiting for anyone else he booked it from the cockpit, grabbing his rifle from the bench as he strode towards the shuttle's airlock. He pushed his way ("excuse me sorry") past the Visipian, Mez, and tapped the airlock control. He turned back to the remaining crew still within the ship, a grimace on his face. "Colleagues, we have to leave, now." He nodded his head and his faceplate slid down and snapped into place, the viewports of the stark white helmet lighting up in a crimson red cross. "Otherwise we all perish."</s> <\|message\|>How people most commonly refer to your character, not necessarily their birth name The shuttle airlock quickly cycled open. With the sealed unbilical on the far side the system knew not to waste time decompressing the chamber and Simon found himself looking down the passage towards where Sevyn waited for him.</s>	<\|message\|>Mez Mez felt the shuttle jolt as the umbilical finally connected to the dreadnought, it wasn't perfect, just as Felix had said, but it would do the job. "We have a solid connection on the umbilical tube." He began radioing to the Gygan. "Keep those things away from the hatch whilst we open her up. You can follow in behind us once the shuttle disconnects from the ship." He moved to open the airlock and enter the walkway but was pushed aside by someone from behind. That someone was adorned in a brilliantly white battle-suit, or so it looked. His enhanced sense of smell informed him that the person was Human. A fact confirmed when the being turned to face him and the others still on board the shuttle. It was the co-pilot. "Why the rush, Human? Scared you're going to be left behind?" He said, a feral tone taking place in his voice. "Well you should be, because if you push past me again, I'll see to it that you never set another foot off of that ship." He nodded in the direction of the Lone Star then glowered at the man. A look of disgust overcame him, their stench was repulsive. Humans were commonly thought of as sacks of slowly decaying meat. Good for nothing except sating the hunger of a Helkite back on Visipia. Though they were somewhat intelligent, their physical forms were weak and easily broken, rendering them useless when compared against him.</s>
<\|description\|>Lucatiel "Luca" St.Dragoon Age: 20 Gender: Female Appearance (anime): History: Lucatiel had come from a long line of Service Members, most whom became part of the Scout Regiment. The only one who was different was her mother: She actually had the skills to join the Military Police. And she did, but not because she feared the Titans; it was mostly due to Lucatiel, who was currently in her mother around the time she had finished her time training. Lucatiel's mother chose to to join the Military Police for the benefits, knowing that she'd need to raise Lucatiel while her father continued his work in the Scout Regiment. Lucatiel was still a trainee when the Colossal Titan attacked and the wall was breached. Her father died during the defense, while Lucatiel was forced to stay back with her mother. She hated what was happening: to see her city getting torn apart by those monsters. Lucatiel's mother didn't take it any better and wanted to fight, however she had orders to stay within the wall. They both watched helplessly as the titans ravaged their homes. Once it was all over, Lucatiel made a promise to her mother: To avenge their father, and to change the city so that people like her mother could fight for her homeland for once, instead of just watching in helpless horror as others die on their behalf. Shortly after the attack Lucatiel graduated from the training Academy, a fire burning in her heart to put an end to the monsters that keep threatening her home and their lives. She joined the Scout Regiment with the hopes of exploring the world outside the wall and discovering some way to put an end to all of this. Personality: Lucatiel was always a strong-willed and forceful person. She can be down right intimidating, as she fears little, not those in authority, not even those who outclass her. She makes her beliefs known and her puts her issues upfront. It's not that she's rebellious however: She can follow orders and can put a lot of faith into others. Lucatiel understands the need to take risks and even sacrifice one's self, and while she's in no hurry to commit suicide, she's come to terms that she'll likely die in the line of duty. She has almost reckless abandonment for her own life, which would get her killed if her skills can't save her. Lucatiel hates boasting and lying, and someone who does either will earn her ire quite easily. She would challenge them, violently, to figure out the truth in their words. Squad: Scout Regiment Titan Kills/Assists: None so far, though she did once slap a titan with a sea bass!</s> <\|message\|>Bachus Gregoravic Levi Cassandra's gun powder bag landed firmly on the tongue of a titan in the centre of the group. It was swallowed, before exploding, sending a mass of boiling titan guts everywhere. The size of the explosion was enough completely obliterate the nap of the neck. "Good work." He reassured Cassandra, before turning to the rest of the squad. "Well? You know what to do." He grunted. "Move out!" He ordered. Bachus He watched Cassandra's movements. Although he was part of Levi's squad, he was still weak. He wasn't special. The type of people that would lead humanity into the light were levi and cassandra. The rest of them were just souls to be lost along the way. His hand stung so bad. His missing finger was long gone, and he was still bleeding. Thankfully the packing he had wrapped his hand up in was slowing the blood loss. He nodded. "Yes Corporal!" He fired his wires into a nearby wall to take off, accelerating towards the nearest titan he could find. He hovered around for a while drawing it closer. He drew a fresh blade to create a spark to light his bag, before dropping it into the titan's open mouth. He back flipped out, watching the titan explode in a bloody red mess. He planted heavily on a rooftop. He panted a little, finding it difficult to use his gear without his index finger. He soon realized that two newish recruits were standing right in front of him. He knew them. "Winchesters!" He barked out. "Where is your squa..." he stopped. His eyes widened, looking down the street. "...Squad." He was distracted as he finished his sentence. Behind several other titan's he could see it. He couldn't not remember it. He'd been face to face with it twice as it devoured 2 of his siblings. It was the titan that had ruined his family. Ignoring the two younger soldiers in front of him he barged through them using his gas, almost screaming, cursing the titan. He wasn't worried about the other's in his way, he out maneuvered anything that came his way, tears rolling down his cheeks. He drew fresh blades as he got closer and closer. levi His attention was drawn by Bachus' screams. He looked towards his squad member's destination, and instantly feared the worst. "Stop him!" He shouted to the Winchester siblings. They bore the wings of freedom, and they were the closest. He also looked towards Cassandra just in case. "That's the titan... the one he's been looking for Cassandra. You must stop him."</s> <\|message\|>Cassandra Cassandra was already moving, not needing to be told anything, just seeing that Bachus was now out of control, and that would certainly lead to his death, but it was little Niesha who reached Bachus first, slamming into the larger man without it seemed a thought. Cassandra swung around, moving so she was in front of them in several quick moves, bearing down on the titan. "Get back, Bachus. Now. Do not be foolish. You cannot fight if you are this emotional" She shouted at him, keeping her voice cool and level, nodding to Niesha. She had her blades in hand, and once more seemed to dance through the air. Niesha struggled, trying to hold Bachus, but knowing that he was way stronger then she could ever hope to be. She didn't even remember making the move to stop him, only knowing that if he reached the titan, in this state, he most likely wouldn't survive. Niesha was just support, but she didn't want to see someone die, not if she could stop it. "Bachus!" Niesha shouted at him</s> <\|message\|>Ethan Winchester Ethan Standing on the highest peek of the clock tower he watched as Levi's squad literally set the titans on fire from the inside out and seeing the nape of the neck get completely obliterated. He smiled and even let out a slight chuckle, "Nice!" He remarked to himself, when he saw Lana making her way up to him. He turned his attention to all around him and saw a 7metre titan coming their way, aiming straight for Lana, when she couldn't see him She'd never make it in time. "Shit!" He cursed to himself, putting his stance on guard, ready to leap into action the moment the titan was near enough for him to use his ODM gear and swing to the titan's neck and cut him down once and for all. "LANA WATCH OUT!" Ethan shouted to alert her of her incoming doom. Lana Running across the rooftop she was aiming for the clock tower to meet up with her twin brother. "Just a little bit further Lana" She mumbled to herself, when she almost tripped on her own footfall when she heard a massive explosion from behind her. Stopping momentarily, she turned around and saw Levi's squad literally blowing up titans, wiping out the nape of the neck in the process. This made her joyous, when she suddenly remembered she had to get to Ethan. She began to pick up her feet once more and began running again, placing her index fingers on the trigger ready to fly onwards and upwards. "Lana watch out!!" She heard, and as she looked at Ethan's stance and warning, she saw a 7metre charging towards her. "No no no" she muttered, picking up her speed as much as she could. It was then she saw Ethan swing into action and land on the titan's beck, before running upwards and slicing the nape of the neck swiftly, causing the titan to stumble and fall. Lana continued to run forward and when the timing was right, she pulled the trigger and sent herself flying onto the clock tower. Ethan AND Lana Both sibling now landed on the clock tower when they're attention was caught from Bachus shouting at them, asking where their squad was. "FURTHER UP SIR!" They shouted back in perfect unison, when they both saw him get get distracted from a titan he clearly recognised. "We gotta stop him" Lana told her brother, when suddenly Levi barked orders to them to stop him. "SIR!" They called back in agreement, before chasing after him. "Bachus you gotta stop this!! Fall back!!" Ethan called after him, when Cassandra came blasting passed them to also stop him. Bachus was a friend of the Winchester family. He was the one soldier that knew their father. They were not prepared to lose him.</s> <\|message\|>Angelo Ortega Angelo ran and after a few more feet into a clearing nearby it wasn't much but it would be enough. Once his 3 titans were in the area he quickly did a 180 and turned around charging at them and while they tried to grab him Angelo quickly used his gas and went down towards the ground making evasive maneuvers and Angelo quickly cut off their Achilles tendons forcing them down onto one knee and as they screeched getting angry Angelo took the shot and used his blade as a flint to light the bag that Corporal levi gave him and threw it into the first ones mouth. As expected it made the stupid titan explode into pieces, honestly Angelo wasn't entirely sure this would even work but to see it work so well meant that once again the wings of freedom are leading the pack. Angelo then did the same thing to the other two and as expected they exploded as well. Once they were dealt with Angelo got on the move looking for more titans however he knew that he would need to get more gas soon if he took to long and not having any gas was a death sentence against titans...</s> <\|message\|>Bachus Gregoravic Bachus "GET OUT OF MY WAY CASSANDRA!" He darted beneath her back in front. Neisha was grasping onto him in the air. "FUCKING LET GO!" He used his powerful shoulder to brush her off. The winchester twins were also calling after him. He completely ignored those calls. So much like your father. Brats. He screamed out once more with tears dripping down his cheeks. He plunged his blades deep into the eyeballs of the titan, and continued to stab, yelling. He retracted, and began slicing pieces off of the titan, switching blades when necessary. Pieces of flesh and skin fell from the titan, as it was diced up. After a good 20 seconds of brutal dismembering, he went straight through the neck, bringing the head off, and landed at the corpse's side. he sat there and wept. It felt so good... some closer... but he couldn't coontrol his tears. Levi Looking around he did notice that the area was starting to clear of titans. The other squads could manage for now. He zipped down towards Bachus. He looked around at all the other squad members present with a menacing glare. "You failed to stop him. That was a direct order." He swung his head back around to Bachus. His tone lowered, still aggressive though. "I understand everything you feel right now." "I lost two of my closet friends on my first expedition with the scouts. It was all commander Erwin's fault. We were supposed to kill him. I used the rain and storm as cover to get close. My error in timing and judgement cost me my friends. I told them to stay back inside the walls, but they made me believe in them. I was wrong to do so that time. You made a decision right now Bachus. You believed in your own ability to take down that titan, and you didn't trust your comrades judgement. That is fine." He stood up. "Seeing you kill it. That's just the way I was when I took revenge on the titan that took my friends. Don't let it consume you Bachus." He almost gave him a smile.. Almost instantly his boot collided with Bachus' nose, breaking it. "However. You put everyone else in danger regardless." He followed up with another kick to the jaw this time. A savage beating took place before Bachus face dripped with blood. "It's never wrong to trust in yourself over your comrades. But to put them in danger too is a crime in my book." He turned quickly on the spot and took off. He wiped his hands clean. "Get him up and back to the barracks." He ordered to the others around.</s> <\|message\|>Cassandra "You try holding a man at least twice your size" Niesha shouted back at Levi, before she realised what she had done. She clamped a hand over her mouth. She had done her best damn it, but Bachus was a big man, and while Niesha was strong, she wasn't that strong. Add in the emotional strength, and then Niesha had had no chance. She gave a sigh, and did as she was told. --- Cassandra gave a heavy sigh, looking to Levi, she said softly "You know none of us could have stopped him. Bachus is stronger then most of us even without the emotional turmoil. We're all alive. And that's all that matters for now, Levi. I should have moved faster, and taken the Titan down. This is my fault. Don't take it out on them"</s> <\|message\|>Ethan Winchester Ethan started to go ahead but when there was no stopping Bachus, he quickly stuck his arm out to stop Lana going any further ahead. "Ethan we can't let him do this!" Lana practically pleaded to her brother, but Ethan refused to even answer her. He just sighed, closed his eyes momentarily and re opened them watching the carnage unfold that Bachus was giving this particular titan. Instead, they made their way close beside Cassandra and Neisha and watched. Luckily they remained alive. Though when Levi came over and gave Bachus a hell of a beating, the twins didn't think Bachus would be alive for much longer. Lana even cringed at how easily Levi was dishing it out and drawing blood from Bachus. Ethan cringed more when Levi shouted at them four for not stopping him though. "Sorry Levi, but if we tried to stop him whilst on that Titan we'd all be dead and not alive." Ethan explained calmly before he told them to take him back to the barracks. "Sir." The twins acknowledged giving a short salute before heading over to Bachus. "Lets get you back and cleaned up" Lana told their family friend.</s>	<\|message\|>Lucatiel "Luca" St.Dragoon Lucatiel frankly had too much on her plate to focus on what Levi and his squad was doing. Her "Kill one titan to attract the others" strategy worked a bit too well. Now she was being chased down by at least seven titans, and not all of them were coming from behind. Some were smark enough to try to intercept her, and a few were breaking down houses just to get to her. She needed to draw then away from here, take them to somewhere that was already in ruins. But in doing so she'd limit her mobility to the titans themselves, which was a death sentence. Perhaps... Lucatiel used what little time she had left to retreat to Levi's group. Fortunately for her the path was clear, but she was leading titans to their direction. Surely they could take care of them however, helped by the fact that Lucatiel wasn't intending to run away either. She just needed to make a tactical retreat and lure the titans into a trap.</s>
<\|description\|>Kaaili Pack: Uutar Gender: Female Age: 3 years Personality: Before one gets to know her, she fits the stereotype of the Uutar. She is distrusting, touchy and can easily be made angry. However after another wolf earns her trust, she shows a side that is friendly, generous and playful. She likes to wrestle and show off her strength, and she is very proud of her identity as Uutar. Appearance: Grizzled pale gray and black fur. Her left ear is half torn off. She has large paws, a short but thick tail and a mane of fur around her neck that makes her appear much larger than she actually is. Other: The rest of the Uutar are killed by a rockslide.</s> <\|message\|>Kaaili All was a swirling mess of gray-white dust that took forever to settle. When at last it did, Kaaili recognized nothing. She cast her gaze around what was once the den site of the great, the unmatchable Uutar, and coughed dryly. Everything had been crushed by the thundering scree in the late morning, just as the pack had settled down to sleep through the hot part of the day. There had been pups in the den. Pups! Heaviness tugged at her heart at the realization that they wouldn't have stood a chance. A faint whiff of blood wafted into her snout and lingered, making Kaaili cringe slightly. She tried to get to her feet, discovered that her tail was trapped under a stone, and whimpered as she pulled free and felt the blood rushing back to the end of her tail. Claws scrabbled feebly against dusty scree as she tried to search for the rest of the Uutar. "No, no, no," she groaned softly. A paw stuck out from under a heavy rock. When Kaaili moved it, she revealed the crushed skull of the Alpha male, a massive bulky white wolf named Tarukida, and jumped back in fright, tumbling down the crumbly slope and very nearly causing another rockslide. "No no no!" she squeaked. Carefully she got up and panted with the emotional exhaustion of having discovered one of the leaders so... disfigured. A soft, careful howl wove from her lips as she called: "Is anyone alive?"</s> <\|message\|>DeadWood Dead. Everything was dead. Eaten away by vicious flames from a fire storm about a week ago. DeadWood carefully, but quickly, padded through the unknown forest she had mistakenly bolted into. She didn't even think twice about the direction she had fled when the claps of hunter-thunder had suddenly errupted, causing her entire pack to scatter as quickly as possible. For all she knew, they could be dead aswell, just like the forest she treaded in. The grass was nothing but ashes, burnt trees layed on the ground or leaned up against the other trees that has somehow remained standing, thorn bushes had begun to replace what might have been a beautiful landscape, and large rocks that had once been covered by bushes or tall grass were now completely exposed. However, the burnt forest seemed to provide her with more cover than the healthy ones did. Her fur blended in with the black and greys of the ashes and rocks, it might have been the only thing that saved her life. DeadWood paused in her tracks, taking a moment to listen for anymore danger or a pack member. Her ears flicked and swivled, trying to pick up even the slightest of sounds. Her tail flicked as she just barely picked up a howl in the far distance, but it was very faint. "Hmm... Its far too distant to be one of my pack members... And too far to be a member of the Eirir.." DeadWood thought to herself. She turned and faced the direction it had came from, finding herself looking towards the Uutar Mountain. "Why would an Uutar be asking if anyone's alive? Surely they wouldn't care about us, they never have." DeadWood thought, puzzled. She quickly padded up to a large rock, wanting to get a better view of the mountain. She leaped up onto the stone and squinted her eyes. She growled in uncertainty, "Something's not right.." DeadWood stared at the space above the treeline. Ever so slightly she could see a light grey cloud, too light to be from a fire. "What is that..?" DeadWood kept her gaze on the odd cloud for another moment or two and then brought her attention back to her current situation. She leaped down from the rock she had been standing on and made her way to a particularly thick thorn bush area. She needed to have some sort of protection, and from what she had observed from past experiences, hunters hated thick bushes, especially thorn bushes. Carefully, she weaved her way through the spikey bushes, crawling, jumping, and cautiously stepping over and under their branches. Once she was safely situated in the middle of them, she gave out a few loud roar-barks warning everyone, "Hunters have attacked! Hide or take shelter!" ()</s> <\|message\|>Sasha Sasha lifted her head slightly, what had happened she saw nothing her ears rang loudly the air was dry and full of dust and derbies. Her eyes flicked open darkness was all she saw she pushed her body to a rock and helped herself up she stood in place licking her nose trying to give herself some comfort from the dryness. she moved her right front paw over and felt wet ... soft and wet.. she squealed and yelped moving backwards quickly, she could smell now blood .. smoke.. decaying bodies mixed with familiar scents. she saw a small amount of light shine threw what was the entrance to her den and didn't move she didn't want to step on more bodies .. more of her pack... how many more.. they had elders and pups... and Alpha where was he. she howled out. "anyone is anyone here" she howled once more... she needed to get out she needed to find anyone who had survived. she stepped down once more this time hearing a loud crack she felt the bones of another under her paw. she growled lowly as she help back tears "no!" she lunged towards the rocks covering the entrance to the cave they barely even moved this time with her whole body growling louder "no!" this time a small movement "no!" she roared out slamming her whole body to the rocks this time pushing them all out of place and outside the smoke filling her lung instantly she gasped out and yelped feeling her back leg get buried under the rocks her front claws grasping at the ground to pull it out.</s> <\|message\|>Jalil (Jal) It was like in the stories, the tales of the Tall Mountains that touched the sun. When one of the Mountains became angry, they would scream and cry, a noise that sounded like a thousand rocks crashing over each other, a rumbling so deep you heard it under your paws a thousand forests away. Then in their furious rage they would spit out their teeth, which were massive rocks the size of ten wolves. It is said that the teeth of the old mountains still litter the land today. The roaring and the spitting were so destructive they could kill wolf or lynx or hunter, anything that stood in the mountain's path. But these were just stories. So when Jal was playing in a mountain spring a fair few number of lopes away from the Uutar Den, and he noticed the ground trembling beneath his feet, he did not take heed. When a flock of birds that lived in one of the sparse spruces took to the sky, screaming and cawing, Jal did not take heed. It was only when a lump of rock the size of his head landed at his paws with a splash did he look up to the Uutar Den, just in time to see it be obliterated by a cascade of boulders. An involuntary whimper escaped from his throat. The rumbling intensified, and soon rocks the size of his paws were hitting his pelt, as he stood transfixed staring at his crushed home. When one bounced off the top of his head, he came to his senses and fled down the mountaintop. As he stared from between the brambles, the cloud of dust seemed to be as tall as the tallest mountain. As the dust cleared, and the shower of rocks had stopped, Jalil approached the wrecked den cautiously. Although the air was clouded and heavy with the smell of dust, he could just about scent his packmate, Kaaili, round the other side of the pile of rocks. The thin howl confirmed it. He quickly made his way round the pile of rocks, and seeing his elder, he lowered himself at her feet whimpering as a good youngling should do. 'What happened?' He enquired desperately. 'What happened to the pups? What happened to everyone?'</s> <\|message\|>Kaaili Within a moment Jalil was covered with relieved, fervent licks as the young wolf approached Kaaili. Normally she would display dominant body language, but it didn't cross her mind now. All she could think was that one other had lived. The pack was not extinct. Someone had survived. Now as he was asking questions, she circled him, prodding his flanks gently with her nose and sniffing carefully as she checked him over for injuries. When it became apparent that he was unhurt, she let out a long sigh and sat carefully in front of Jal on a large, stable-feeling rock. There should be no beating around the bush on this one. She stared him in the eyes a few moments and then dropped her gaze to his paws. "Rock slide," she finally answered hollowly. "Everyone is dead. The pups..." Her voice cracked. "It was probably instant. Painless." Her ears fell flat against her neck.</s> <\|message\|>Jalil (Jal) Jal's eyes opened wide in horror, the news crashing over him as hard as the boulders from before. 'How can we be the only survivors? There were no hunting parties away?' Her eyes told him the answer faster than words could. Alone. The Uutar Pack was gone. He closed his eyes, wishing he could go back to this morning when everything was alright. Having composed himself, he inspected Kaaili himself, checking if she was injured in any way. Her tail was a little flattened at the tip, but otherwise she looked relatively unharmed. Once he did this, he looked up at his packmate. Suddenly all 1 and a half years of his life didn't seem so old to him, he didn't seem so big and strong. He was just an oversized pup, who no longer had a mother. 'What do we do now?' He asked, defeated.</s> <\|message\|>Sasha sasha growled at the rocks and howled loudly maybe someone would hear her "help!" she howled again into the dusty sky tugging a lil at her leg.</s>	<\|message\|>Kaaili "We should go," murmured Kaaili. "Down the mountain. This is no longer our home. We must...we must hunt." She didn't want to be in this position of leadership, but there was no other option. She started to pick her way down the scree carefully, and then...there was a howl. Her ears swiveled slightly. "Hmm," she said softly. "It's in the Hills...perhaps they too have had misfortune. Perhaps the spirits are angered." This sentence ended with a grave rumble in her chest as she tried to decide whether to seek out the wolf who had howled. It would be a gamble, that was sure. Judging on the faintness of the howl, it was very possibly an Eirir, a One of the Hills, and she certainly didn't trust them one bit.</s>
<\|description\|>Kaaili Pack: Uutar Gender: Female Age: 3 years Personality: Before one gets to know her, she fits the stereotype of the Uutar. She is distrusting, touchy and can easily be made angry. However after another wolf earns her trust, she shows a side that is friendly, generous and playful. She likes to wrestle and show off her strength, and she is very proud of her identity as Uutar. Appearance: Grizzled pale gray and black fur. Her left ear is half torn off. She has large paws, a short but thick tail and a mane of fur around her neck that makes her appear much larger than she actually is. Other: The rest of the Uutar are killed by a rockslide.</s> <\|message\|>Jalil (Jal) Jal had never been more glad to see a pup in his life. He had heard the little rocks tumbling, and for a horrible second he thought the mountain had awakened again. He had whipped his head round, ready to run, when he saw a little bundle of tan fur looking at Kaaili and himself sheepishly. 'Rudder!' He yelped, euphoric. Jalil bounded over to the cub, snuffling and licking him all over in happiness. 'Are you well? Are you hurt? Where were you? Where you in the den?' He prodded Rudder with his nose, not smelling any blood on him, rejoicing in the fact that not all of the Uutar clan were dead. He turned to Kaaili and said, 'Look, Kaaili! Come! Rudder is still alive!'</s> <\|message\|>Kaaili Kaaili's ears pricked and she turned her head as fast as a snake's strike. A precious pup had survived! She rushed after Jal as fast as the unstable scree would allow without sliding again. Practically shaking with the relief that one of the litter wasn't dead, she gave Rudder a couple of reassuring licks, her tail giving a couple wags so strong that they made her posterior wiggle. There'd be no easy way to explain to him that his parents and siblings had been crushed, so she decided that it could wait, unless the pup asked. "Come with us, Rudder. We're not angry at you, but we have to go down the mountain. You've never been below treeline, have you?"</s> <\|message\|>Sasha Sasha stayed to the ground her whimpering not stoping she didnt know what to do she was alone and confused about what had happen from what she knew she was all that was left of her pack.. but then a thought crossed her mind what about the other packs. what became of them... she knew the Rretili were sneaky but could they have survived and the Uutar well they were very un trusting but she still was concerned.. they all had pups and elders... maybe some of them survived .. she knew she was closer to the Uutar borders. she looked up toward the mountain top and let out one last loud howl the last one she had in her "Help Please!"</s> <\|message\|>DeadWood DeadWood's ears flicked and she quickly turned her head in the direction of the Eirir. Faintly she could hear a desperate howl for help, so desperate it almost sounded broken. It wasn't as faint as the howl she heard earlier, so the only other option was that it was a howl from an Eirir wolf. DeadWood growled at herself, thinking about what she should do next. "As far as I know my pack is gone, hunters could possibly still be out, but two is better than one I suppose..." She thought to herself, and then chuckled, "Well, if hunters DO find me, I better have someone else for them to pick." DeadWood said to herself and then quickly weaved her way out of the thorn bushes she had hidden in. Once she was safely out she quickly began to sprint across the burnt forest, towards the direction of the Eirir where the desperate howl came from. Ashes kicked up behind her as she ran as fast as she could. She needed to get there quickly, or else she could have quite possibly put herself back into immense danger. Within minutes DeadWood had bolted past the boarder of the burnt forest and darted into the Eirir territory. DeadWood dodged and weaved around various trees of the territory. After a few minutes of running, she skidded to a halt once she came face-to-face with what used to be the Eirir den. Huffing a bit, DeadWood shouted, "Where are you?!" All she could see were rocks and dust. A few of the large rocks were spattered with blood, but since DeadWood was sinister to begin with, she didn't mind. DeadWood attempted to move a few, they only moved slightly. She growled in annoyance. "Where are you?!" She shouted again and loudly roar-barked a few times to try to alert anyone near-by. ()</s> <\|message\|>Rudder Rudder was a tad bit confused over Jalil and Kaaili's reactions, something didn't seem right. He didn't dwell on this set of thoughts for long with all of Jalil's questions ringing in his ears, "I'm fine..." Kaaili's question caused the little cub to squirm a little, "Erm... No..." It was a half-lie, he had once chased a butterfly of evil down there but not beyond. Rudder tried to quickly think of a way out of more possible troubling questions when he heard a faint howl. "Who was that?"</s> <\|message\|>Sasha Sasha herd a growl and yiped out as she tried to move hearing the voice ask were she was her lungs still smoke filled she could barely speak "over here please on the side" she said trying to be as loud as she could. She twisted her body and tried to grab a nearby rock with her paw and push it out for the other to see. it was a small rock but could be herd and that was enough.</s> <\|message\|>DeadWood DeadWood turned as she heard a weak voice call out from her left. As she turned she saw a small rock tumble towards her paws. She carefully padded towards the direction the rock tumbled from, as she walked past a few more large rocks she spotted a white female wolf with her leg trapped underneath another large rock. DeadWood paused and glanced inside the den, seeing nothing but fallen rocks and crushed bodies. "You, my dear, are very lucky to be alive at this moment.." DeadWood said, now looking down at the wolf. DeadWood must have looked very grim and intimidating due to the other female's position. DeadWood was already rather tall, but from the other's angle it was possible for her to look even taller. DeadWood's eyes held no sympathy, her body language showed no urgent concern. Her ears perked forward as she looked at the female's trapped leg. Slowly, DeadWood backed up, head held low in concentration. With a loud growl she darted forward and slammed her torso up against the rock, just giving enough force to cause it to budge and roll away. DeadWood took a few steps back to give the wolf some space, "You, what is your name? Were there any others out hunting or scouting? Because if there are, they might be dead too. Hunters attacked my pack, they might still be out there." DeadWood said, sitting down a few steps away from the wolf. "I am DeadWood."</s> <\|message\|>Sasha "Sasha" she spoke softly moveing her back leg a lil it hurt but felt fine otherwise. "and i dont know i was alseep when i woke up... i busted out of the den but then the rocks they fell.." she looked to the other she was so tall and sleek looking. "you said something about hunters.."</s> <\|message\|>Jalil (Jal) Jalil heard the howl, as faint as it was. He turned to Rudder, aware that the pup wasn't to know about the disaster. Jal decided to just come out with it- the faster he told Rudder, (hopefully) the faster the news would heal. 'Up at the den...' He began, carefully. 'Up at the den, there was a great shower of rocks. Sometimes in the old times the mountains used to become angry, and when they were angry they would spit out their teeth at the world below.' The words flowed easier, as the old tales of his mother and grandmother seemed to come unbidden out of his mouth. 'One of these rocks landed on our den, and..it killed everyone inside. We are the only Uutar left..me, you, and our packmate Kaaili.' 'Now we must go behind the treeline, to hunt and, to find out who that howl belongs to.' He looked at Kaaili, hoping he had explained well enough.</s> <\|message\|>Kaaili Kaaili nodded in approval and closed her eyes to think, hoping that the explanation wouldn't frighten poor little Rudder too much. "We will find food," she agreed, "and we will find out about whoever howled, but we must be careful." She took a couple of pensive steps down the rocky slope and made an effort to keep her ears standing straight in a show of false confidence. "We can't let Rudder out of our sight, so that leaves only one to hunt...unless the howler is worthy of trust." Her hackles raised at the thought of facing a stranger, but she shook the dust out of her fur and continued to lead the way slowly, unsure of herself.</s> <\|message\|>Rudder Rudder stood there stumped, They're... dead? The familiar smell of his pack was evident in the air with a heavy mixture of blood. But... I... I should've been there. I could have saved them! The world around him turned silent, as if his ears turned off to it. He stared blankly at the ground as thoughts of regret crept into his mind. If only I was there. I could have helped. They wouldn't be dead! The cub's eyes watched as a small rock, displaced from Kaaili's paw, rolled down the scree. Without any real thought, he continued to observe the small rock until it collided against a huge boulder, one that was probably three times his size. He remained transfixed on the boulder for a time, his thoughts turning from regret to realization. I could have... could have... All his dreams, all his imaginary adventures, faded into nothing but black and white images to the smell of blood surrounding him, so potent that he could smell the color of it. He was kicked in the stomach by the cruel force that is reality; he was only a pup, nothing more. He wasn't a super strong wolf, he wasn't destined for greatness by some wise-owl's words; he was an ordinary pup. The words of his father crept into his mind, "Don't day-dream too much, you will get disappointed eventually." What hurt the most was that he will never, ever hear him say that again. He'll never get to play with his siblings, lay beside mother or show off his skills to his father. That pain sunk deep into him. He took one final look up the scree at the mountain that he once called home. He had always imagined to leave it for an adventure... but not like this. The young cub then followed closely behind the others; his walk somber, his poster defeated and his spirit broken.</s> <\|message\|>Jalil (Jal) The trees were still green and full of life, looking the same, like the disaster up the mountain had never happened. There were squirrels up in the branches, and birds clogging up his ears with their whistles. Jalil saw a rabbit dart out from the undergrowth, but he wasn't feeling hungry. His appetite had fled him as soon as the boulders fell. More than anything, he wished to find the wolf that had howled. The sound seemed to come from the Eirir Hills, which he assumed meant that the Eirir had encountered trouble as well. It could be a lone wolf: they were usually found in the Eirir territory, seeing as the Rretili had little patience for the exiled creatures, and few wolves dared to climb the dangerous scree alone. He turned to Kaaili. 'I would howl, to see if that wolf would answer, but that would alert any other wolves in the area...and we can't survive an attack with just us, right?' He hoped Kaaili would give him some guidance- he was by no means a leader, and wasn't quite sure of what to do.</s>	<\|message\|>Kaaili "Let's not howl," decided Kaaili. "Not yet. It's too dangerous." Then again, though, traveling out of the familiar territory of the Uutar was also dangerous, yet here they were. Her tail stuck straight out behind her as she picked her way down the rocky slope and descended under the treeline. Two bluebirds huddled in a nest with their chicks and the sight of that family, whole and together, made Kaaili's heart ache. "Maybe if we reach a place that's easily defendable, like a cliff. I'd rather find them first, though." She hated to be the one making the decisions. It was so new, and she didn't want to make a mistake and get her only kin killed.</s>
<\|description\|>DeadWood Pack: The Rretili Gender: Female Age: 2 years Personality: DeadWood is highly observative, while watching or even talking with someone she will take note of their body language, whether it be small ear flicks or large tail whips. She is quite manipulative aswell, often making friendships just to benefit herself, she can easily fake a happy-go-lucky persona all the way to a depressed emotionally-injured persona and everything in-between. Her real dark personality often shows when in the face of life-or-death between her and another wolf. When she does find someone that is 'worth' her kindness, she will defend them no matter what, but if she is betrayed, her wrath goes beyond the anger of a mountain lion and possibly to the point of complete insanity. Appearance: DeadWood is a Maned wolf, but a genetic mutation caused her to be born with black and white fur instead of the natural orange, white, and black (A maned wolf has the standard fox-like colored fur, basically her fur is colored like a silver fox's) She has the usual stature of a Maned wolf, long, tall, lanky, and thin. Her ears are large with black tufts at the tips. Her eyes are a yellow-green color and her claws and canines are slightly longer than normal. She is mainly built for speed, stealth, and tracking, not strength. Other: DeadWood was out tracking an odd scent in the territory with the pack and suddenly gunshots were fired, she bolted in a random direction while the others scattered. She ended up running into a part of the forest that she had never been to, which was covered in ashes from a fire about a week ago and mainly consisted of burnt trees and thorn bushes.</s> <\|message\|>Kaaili Within a moment Jalil was covered with relieved, fervent licks as the young wolf approached Kaaili. Normally she would display dominant body language, but it didn't cross her mind now. All she could think was that one other had lived. The pack was not extinct. Someone had survived. Now as he was asking questions, she circled him, prodding his flanks gently with her nose and sniffing carefully as she checked him over for injuries. When it became apparent that he was unhurt, she let out a long sigh and sat carefully in front of Jal on a large, stable-feeling rock. There should be no beating around the bush on this one. She stared him in the eyes a few moments and then dropped her gaze to his paws. "Rock slide," she finally answered hollowly. "Everyone is dead. The pups..." Her voice cracked. "It was probably instant. Painless." Her ears fell flat against her neck.</s> <\|message\|>Jalil (Jal) Jal's eyes opened wide in horror, the news crashing over him as hard as the boulders from before. 'How can we be the only survivors? There were no hunting parties away?' Her eyes told him the answer faster than words could. Alone. The Uutar Pack was gone. He closed his eyes, wishing he could go back to this morning when everything was alright. Having composed himself, he inspected Kaaili himself, checking if she was injured in any way. Her tail was a little flattened at the tip, but otherwise she looked relatively unharmed. Once he did this, he looked up at his packmate. Suddenly all 1 and a half years of his life didn't seem so old to him, he didn't seem so big and strong. He was just an oversized pup, who no longer had a mother. 'What do we do now?' He asked, defeated.</s> <\|message\|>Sasha sasha growled at the rocks and howled loudly maybe someone would hear her "help!" she howled again into the dusty sky tugging a lil at her leg.</s> <\|message\|>Kaaili "We should go," murmured Kaaili. "Down the mountain. This is no longer our home. We must...we must hunt." She didn't want to be in this position of leadership, but there was no other option. She started to pick her way down the scree carefully, and then...there was a howl. Her ears swiveled slightly. "Hmm," she said softly. "It's in the Hills...perhaps they too have had misfortune. Perhaps the spirits are angered." This sentence ended with a grave rumble in her chest as she tried to decide whether to seek out the wolf who had howled. It would be a gamble, that was sure. Judging on the faintness of the howl, it was very possibly an Eirir, a One of the Hills, and she certainly didn't trust them one bit.</s> <\|message\|>Sasha she howled once more before collapsing back to the ground her lungs filled with dust and smoke and her eyes red from the debris in the air. "damn" she said with spite "this is not good.. stupid stupid im so stupid" she looked around tugging on her back leg again the rock moving a bit but the pain rushed threw it making her yelp out and whimper. she laid her paws out and just laid there whimpering tears rolling down her fur.. "there gone... all gone.."</s> <\|message\|>Rudder The beast of evil faced down the Alpha male of Uutar. The great wolf barked at the beast, "Turn back from whence you came, beast! I will not let you harm my pack or our territory." The creature released a heavy, and mocking, laugh, "I've enslaved every pack before, what makes you think you can take me on?" The beast then brushed a paw against it's large buck-teeth as it's bushy tail twitched in the wind, "I, the Giant Evil Squirrel Overlord of Jumamar will not back down to anyone; especially not you, Rudder the Great! While you may have defeated the Grizzly of Ublar, I will not be as easy." Rudder, the great wolf of the forest, growled at the beast, "Turn back now, or be defeated here." The beast released a roar before charging our hero. Rudder displayed his great speed by jumping to the side, dodging the Giant Evil Squirrel Overlord of Jumamar's attack. He then chomped on the Giant Evil Squirrel Overlord of Jumamar's tail, a sound of both pain and panic erupted from the beast's mouth. Rudder then shook his head from side to side, pulling the full weight of the beast left and right. And he shook... and he shook... and shook... and shook... and- Rudder was brought back to reality; Why is the ground shaking? Dropping the stick from his mouth, Rudder glanced around at his surroundings in worry. He wasn't near the den, probably would get scolded by dad again for wandering off. However, his thoughts were on the more pressing matter of the earth shaking. Rudder also now noticed a loud rumbling coming from the direction of the mountain, What's going on?! As if hearing his thoughts, the ground stopped shaking and the rumbling ceased. He waited a few moments before bolting for the den without second thoughts. What happened? Did the mountain move? Was the earth upset? These thoughts, as well as many others, passed through the little cub's mind as he ran home... Or what was home. It took the sandy-colored wolf cub a few minutes to get within visual rang of the den, where he saw the damage. What... what happened? Boulders, stones, rocks and pebbles could be seen strewn all over the place, as if the mountain had vomited up parts of itself. Movement near what was the den caused the little cub to freeze, Who is that? He took a sniff of the air. All he could smell was the familiar smell of pack-members, stone and... Blood? The little cub needed to get closer to find out what happened but without getting caught. He didn't want to get scolded for running off again. As he quickly, and quietly, climbed up the scree to try to hear or see what's going on. He managed to get close enough to smell distinctly that Kaaili and Jal were nearby. Rudder noticed that they were on the move, down the scree. He stopped on a stone as they moved, hoping not to be noticed as they passed by. The stone he stood on however, didn't like the added weight of the wolf cub. It started to roll down the slope, crashing into other stones or boulders as it did. Rudder gave a quick yelp as he jumped off the stone that intended to take him down with it. The cub managed to keep his footing as he watched the stone tumble down to the bottom of the scree. Rudder quickly looked back at Kaaili and Jal, realizing they probably heard that. He lowered his ears and tucked his tail between his legs, expecting a scolding from either of them for running off again.</s> <\|message\|>Jalil (Jal) Jal had never been more glad to see a pup in his life. He had heard the little rocks tumbling, and for a horrible second he thought the mountain had awakened again. He had whipped his head round, ready to run, when he saw a little bundle of tan fur looking at Kaaili and himself sheepishly. 'Rudder!' He yelped, euphoric. Jalil bounded over to the cub, snuffling and licking him all over in happiness. 'Are you well? Are you hurt? Where were you? Where you in the den?' He prodded Rudder with his nose, not smelling any blood on him, rejoicing in the fact that not all of the Uutar clan were dead. He turned to Kaaili and said, 'Look, Kaaili! Come! Rudder is still alive!'</s> <\|message\|>Kaaili Kaaili's ears pricked and she turned her head as fast as a snake's strike. A precious pup had survived! She rushed after Jal as fast as the unstable scree would allow without sliding again. Practically shaking with the relief that one of the litter wasn't dead, she gave Rudder a couple of reassuring licks, her tail giving a couple wags so strong that they made her posterior wiggle. There'd be no easy way to explain to him that his parents and siblings had been crushed, so she decided that it could wait, unless the pup asked. "Come with us, Rudder. We're not angry at you, but we have to go down the mountain. You've never been below treeline, have you?"</s> <\|message\|>Sasha Sasha stayed to the ground her whimpering not stoping she didnt know what to do she was alone and confused about what had happen from what she knew she was all that was left of her pack.. but then a thought crossed her mind what about the other packs. what became of them... she knew the Rretili were sneaky but could they have survived and the Uutar well they were very un trusting but she still was concerned.. they all had pups and elders... maybe some of them survived .. she knew she was closer to the Uutar borders. she looked up toward the mountain top and let out one last loud howl the last one she had in her "Help Please!"</s> <\|message\|>DeadWood DeadWood's ears flicked and she quickly turned her head in the direction of the Eirir. Faintly she could hear a desperate howl for help, so desperate it almost sounded broken. It wasn't as faint as the howl she heard earlier, so the only other option was that it was a howl from an Eirir wolf. DeadWood growled at herself, thinking about what she should do next. "As far as I know my pack is gone, hunters could possibly still be out, but two is better than one I suppose..." She thought to herself, and then chuckled, "Well, if hunters DO find me, I better have someone else for them to pick." DeadWood said to herself and then quickly weaved her way out of the thorn bushes she had hidden in. Once she was safely out she quickly began to sprint across the burnt forest, towards the direction of the Eirir where the desperate howl came from. Ashes kicked up behind her as she ran as fast as she could. She needed to get there quickly, or else she could have quite possibly put herself back into immense danger. Within minutes DeadWood had bolted past the boarder of the burnt forest and darted into the Eirir territory. DeadWood dodged and weaved around various trees of the territory. After a few minutes of running, she skidded to a halt once she came face-to-face with what used to be the Eirir den. Huffing a bit, DeadWood shouted, "Where are you?!" All she could see were rocks and dust. A few of the large rocks were spattered with blood, but since DeadWood was sinister to begin with, she didn't mind. DeadWood attempted to move a few, they only moved slightly. She growled in annoyance. "Where are you?!" She shouted again and loudly roar-barked a few times to try to alert anyone near-by. ()</s> <\|message\|>Rudder Rudder was a tad bit confused over Jalil and Kaaili's reactions, something didn't seem right. He didn't dwell on this set of thoughts for long with all of Jalil's questions ringing in his ears, "I'm fine..." Kaaili's question caused the little cub to squirm a little, "Erm... No..." It was a half-lie, he had once chased a butterfly of evil down there but not beyond. Rudder tried to quickly think of a way out of more possible troubling questions when he heard a faint howl. "Who was that?"</s> <\|message\|>Sasha Sasha herd a growl and yiped out as she tried to move hearing the voice ask were she was her lungs still smoke filled she could barely speak "over here please on the side" she said trying to be as loud as she could. She twisted her body and tried to grab a nearby rock with her paw and push it out for the other to see. it was a small rock but could be herd and that was enough.</s>	<\|message\|>DeadWood DeadWood turned as she heard a weak voice call out from her left. As she turned she saw a small rock tumble towards her paws. She carefully padded towards the direction the rock tumbled from, as she walked past a few more large rocks she spotted a white female wolf with her leg trapped underneath another large rock. DeadWood paused and glanced inside the den, seeing nothing but fallen rocks and crushed bodies. "You, my dear, are very lucky to be alive at this moment.." DeadWood said, now looking down at the wolf. DeadWood must have looked very grim and intimidating due to the other female's position. DeadWood was already rather tall, but from the other's angle it was possible for her to look even taller. DeadWood's eyes held no sympathy, her body language showed no urgent concern. Her ears perked forward as she looked at the female's trapped leg. Slowly, DeadWood backed up, head held low in concentration. With a loud growl she darted forward and slammed her torso up against the rock, just giving enough force to cause it to budge and roll away. DeadWood took a few steps back to give the wolf some space, "You, what is your name? Were there any others out hunting or scouting? Because if there are, they might be dead too. Hunters attacked my pack, they might still be out there." DeadWood said, sitting down a few steps away from the wolf. "I am DeadWood."</s>
<\|description\|>Jalil (Jal) Pack: The Uutar Gender: Male Age: 1 1/2 years old Personality: In the Uutar pack, his mother had drilled it into him almost from the second he was born: Blood first. Protect the pack. And never, ever trust anyone but your blood. Jal has the first point down, as he's fiercely loyal, and would die for any member of his pack. But try as he might, he just can't shake his want to explore and discover, and gain the quiet reserved nature of his older pack members. He's neither overly submissive nor dominant, and despite not having a deep love for fighting, he will attack viciously if he thinks his pack or himself is in danger. Appearance: Other: He's very sure footed and good at climbing, as well as good at running, which came from navigating the crumbling scree as a pup.</s> <\|message\|>DeadWood Dead. Everything was dead. Eaten away by vicious flames from a fire storm about a week ago. DeadWood carefully, but quickly, padded through the unknown forest she had mistakenly bolted into. She didn't even think twice about the direction she had fled when the claps of hunter-thunder had suddenly errupted, causing her entire pack to scatter as quickly as possible. For all she knew, they could be dead aswell, just like the forest she treaded in. The grass was nothing but ashes, burnt trees layed on the ground or leaned up against the other trees that has somehow remained standing, thorn bushes had begun to replace what might have been a beautiful landscape, and large rocks that had once been covered by bushes or tall grass were now completely exposed. However, the burnt forest seemed to provide her with more cover than the healthy ones did. Her fur blended in with the black and greys of the ashes and rocks, it might have been the only thing that saved her life. DeadWood paused in her tracks, taking a moment to listen for anymore danger or a pack member. Her ears flicked and swivled, trying to pick up even the slightest of sounds. Her tail flicked as she just barely picked up a howl in the far distance, but it was very faint. "Hmm... Its far too distant to be one of my pack members... And too far to be a member of the Eirir.." DeadWood thought to herself. She turned and faced the direction it had came from, finding herself looking towards the Uutar Mountain. "Why would an Uutar be asking if anyone's alive? Surely they wouldn't care about us, they never have." DeadWood thought, puzzled. She quickly padded up to a large rock, wanting to get a better view of the mountain. She leaped up onto the stone and squinted her eyes. She growled in uncertainty, "Something's not right.." DeadWood stared at the space above the treeline. Ever so slightly she could see a light grey cloud, too light to be from a fire. "What is that..?" DeadWood kept her gaze on the odd cloud for another moment or two and then brought her attention back to her current situation. She leaped down from the rock she had been standing on and made her way to a particularly thick thorn bush area. She needed to have some sort of protection, and from what she had observed from past experiences, hunters hated thick bushes, especially thorn bushes. Carefully, she weaved her way through the spikey bushes, crawling, jumping, and cautiously stepping over and under their branches. Once she was safely situated in the middle of them, she gave out a few loud roar-barks warning everyone, "Hunters have attacked! Hide or take shelter!" ()</s> <\|message\|>Sasha Sasha lifted her head slightly, what had happened she saw nothing her ears rang loudly the air was dry and full of dust and derbies. Her eyes flicked open darkness was all she saw she pushed her body to a rock and helped herself up she stood in place licking her nose trying to give herself some comfort from the dryness. she moved her right front paw over and felt wet ... soft and wet.. she squealed and yelped moving backwards quickly, she could smell now blood .. smoke.. decaying bodies mixed with familiar scents. she saw a small amount of light shine threw what was the entrance to her den and didn't move she didn't want to step on more bodies .. more of her pack... how many more.. they had elders and pups... and Alpha where was he. she howled out. "anyone is anyone here" she howled once more... she needed to get out she needed to find anyone who had survived. she stepped down once more this time hearing a loud crack she felt the bones of another under her paw. she growled lowly as she help back tears "no!" she lunged towards the rocks covering the entrance to the cave they barely even moved this time with her whole body growling louder "no!" this time a small movement "no!" she roared out slamming her whole body to the rocks this time pushing them all out of place and outside the smoke filling her lung instantly she gasped out and yelped feeling her back leg get buried under the rocks her front claws grasping at the ground to pull it out.</s> <\|message\|>Jalil (Jal) It was like in the stories, the tales of the Tall Mountains that touched the sun. When one of the Mountains became angry, they would scream and cry, a noise that sounded like a thousand rocks crashing over each other, a rumbling so deep you heard it under your paws a thousand forests away. Then in their furious rage they would spit out their teeth, which were massive rocks the size of ten wolves. It is said that the teeth of the old mountains still litter the land today. The roaring and the spitting were so destructive they could kill wolf or lynx or hunter, anything that stood in the mountain's path. But these were just stories. So when Jal was playing in a mountain spring a fair few number of lopes away from the Uutar Den, and he noticed the ground trembling beneath his feet, he did not take heed. When a flock of birds that lived in one of the sparse spruces took to the sky, screaming and cawing, Jal did not take heed. It was only when a lump of rock the size of his head landed at his paws with a splash did he look up to the Uutar Den, just in time to see it be obliterated by a cascade of boulders. An involuntary whimper escaped from his throat. The rumbling intensified, and soon rocks the size of his paws were hitting his pelt, as he stood transfixed staring at his crushed home. When one bounced off the top of his head, he came to his senses and fled down the mountaintop. As he stared from between the brambles, the cloud of dust seemed to be as tall as the tallest mountain. As the dust cleared, and the shower of rocks had stopped, Jalil approached the wrecked den cautiously. Although the air was clouded and heavy with the smell of dust, he could just about scent his packmate, Kaaili, round the other side of the pile of rocks. The thin howl confirmed it. He quickly made his way round the pile of rocks, and seeing his elder, he lowered himself at her feet whimpering as a good youngling should do. 'What happened?' He enquired desperately. 'What happened to the pups? What happened to everyone?'</s> <\|message\|>Kaaili Within a moment Jalil was covered with relieved, fervent licks as the young wolf approached Kaaili. Normally she would display dominant body language, but it didn't cross her mind now. All she could think was that one other had lived. The pack was not extinct. Someone had survived. Now as he was asking questions, she circled him, prodding his flanks gently with her nose and sniffing carefully as she checked him over for injuries. When it became apparent that he was unhurt, she let out a long sigh and sat carefully in front of Jal on a large, stable-feeling rock. There should be no beating around the bush on this one. She stared him in the eyes a few moments and then dropped her gaze to his paws. "Rock slide," she finally answered hollowly. "Everyone is dead. The pups..." Her voice cracked. "It was probably instant. Painless." Her ears fell flat against her neck.</s> <\|message\|>Jalil (Jal) Jal's eyes opened wide in horror, the news crashing over him as hard as the boulders from before. 'How can we be the only survivors? There were no hunting parties away?' Her eyes told him the answer faster than words could. Alone. The Uutar Pack was gone. He closed his eyes, wishing he could go back to this morning when everything was alright. Having composed himself, he inspected Kaaili himself, checking if she was injured in any way. Her tail was a little flattened at the tip, but otherwise she looked relatively unharmed. Once he did this, he looked up at his packmate. Suddenly all 1 and a half years of his life didn't seem so old to him, he didn't seem so big and strong. He was just an oversized pup, who no longer had a mother. 'What do we do now?' He asked, defeated.</s> <\|message\|>Sasha sasha growled at the rocks and howled loudly maybe someone would hear her "help!" she howled again into the dusty sky tugging a lil at her leg.</s> <\|message\|>Kaaili "We should go," murmured Kaaili. "Down the mountain. This is no longer our home. We must...we must hunt." She didn't want to be in this position of leadership, but there was no other option. She started to pick her way down the scree carefully, and then...there was a howl. Her ears swiveled slightly. "Hmm," she said softly. "It's in the Hills...perhaps they too have had misfortune. Perhaps the spirits are angered." This sentence ended with a grave rumble in her chest as she tried to decide whether to seek out the wolf who had howled. It would be a gamble, that was sure. Judging on the faintness of the howl, it was very possibly an Eirir, a One of the Hills, and she certainly didn't trust them one bit.</s> <\|message\|>Sasha she howled once more before collapsing back to the ground her lungs filled with dust and smoke and her eyes red from the debris in the air. "damn" she said with spite "this is not good.. stupid stupid im so stupid" she looked around tugging on her back leg again the rock moving a bit but the pain rushed threw it making her yelp out and whimper. she laid her paws out and just laid there whimpering tears rolling down her fur.. "there gone... all gone.."</s> <\|message\|>Rudder The beast of evil faced down the Alpha male of Uutar. The great wolf barked at the beast, "Turn back from whence you came, beast! I will not let you harm my pack or our territory." The creature released a heavy, and mocking, laugh, "I've enslaved every pack before, what makes you think you can take me on?" The beast then brushed a paw against it's large buck-teeth as it's bushy tail twitched in the wind, "I, the Giant Evil Squirrel Overlord of Jumamar will not back down to anyone; especially not you, Rudder the Great! While you may have defeated the Grizzly of Ublar, I will not be as easy." Rudder, the great wolf of the forest, growled at the beast, "Turn back now, or be defeated here." The beast released a roar before charging our hero. Rudder displayed his great speed by jumping to the side, dodging the Giant Evil Squirrel Overlord of Jumamar's attack. He then chomped on the Giant Evil Squirrel Overlord of Jumamar's tail, a sound of both pain and panic erupted from the beast's mouth. Rudder then shook his head from side to side, pulling the full weight of the beast left and right. And he shook... and he shook... and shook... and shook... and- Rudder was brought back to reality; Why is the ground shaking? Dropping the stick from his mouth, Rudder glanced around at his surroundings in worry. He wasn't near the den, probably would get scolded by dad again for wandering off. However, his thoughts were on the more pressing matter of the earth shaking. Rudder also now noticed a loud rumbling coming from the direction of the mountain, What's going on?! As if hearing his thoughts, the ground stopped shaking and the rumbling ceased. He waited a few moments before bolting for the den without second thoughts. What happened? Did the mountain move? Was the earth upset? These thoughts, as well as many others, passed through the little cub's mind as he ran home... Or what was home. It took the sandy-colored wolf cub a few minutes to get within visual rang of the den, where he saw the damage. What... what happened? Boulders, stones, rocks and pebbles could be seen strewn all over the place, as if the mountain had vomited up parts of itself. Movement near what was the den caused the little cub to freeze, Who is that? He took a sniff of the air. All he could smell was the familiar smell of pack-members, stone and... Blood? The little cub needed to get closer to find out what happened but without getting caught. He didn't want to get scolded for running off again. As he quickly, and quietly, climbed up the scree to try to hear or see what's going on. He managed to get close enough to smell distinctly that Kaaili and Jal were nearby. Rudder noticed that they were on the move, down the scree. He stopped on a stone as they moved, hoping not to be noticed as they passed by. The stone he stood on however, didn't like the added weight of the wolf cub. It started to roll down the slope, crashing into other stones or boulders as it did. Rudder gave a quick yelp as he jumped off the stone that intended to take him down with it. The cub managed to keep his footing as he watched the stone tumble down to the bottom of the scree. Rudder quickly looked back at Kaaili and Jal, realizing they probably heard that. He lowered his ears and tucked his tail between his legs, expecting a scolding from either of them for running off again.</s>	<\|message\|>Jalil (Jal) Jal had never been more glad to see a pup in his life. He had heard the little rocks tumbling, and for a horrible second he thought the mountain had awakened again. He had whipped his head round, ready to run, when he saw a little bundle of tan fur looking at Kaaili and himself sheepishly. 'Rudder!' He yelped, euphoric. Jalil bounded over to the cub, snuffling and licking him all over in happiness. 'Are you well? Are you hurt? Where were you? Where you in the den?' He prodded Rudder with his nose, not smelling any blood on him, rejoicing in the fact that not all of the Uutar clan were dead. He turned to Kaaili and said, 'Look, Kaaili! Come! Rudder is still alive!'</s>
<\|description\|>Rudder Pack: Uutar Gender: Male Age: 3.5 weeks Personality: An overly (and dangerously) adventurous pup who is commonly oblivious to danger. Rudder is commonly found either play-fighting with his siblings or 'hunting a beast of evil'. This usually ends up with him further away from the den then he should be, fighting an imaginary monster before returning home (if not found) covered in mud or thorns. He could be described as; attentive, silly, overly imaginative, tough and annoying/entertaining (depends who you ask). Appearance: Other: While this is his character sheet of who he is, expect him to be basically the opposite (at least at first) because of the extremely traumatic event that he will be introduced to in his first post. He's going to have a bit of PTSD and probably a bit of depression to begin with. Change of plans with first post, less depressing.</s> <\|message\|>Sasha she howled once more before collapsing back to the ground her lungs filled with dust and smoke and her eyes red from the debris in the air. "damn" she said with spite "this is not good.. stupid stupid im so stupid" she looked around tugging on her back leg again the rock moving a bit but the pain rushed threw it making her yelp out and whimper. she laid her paws out and just laid there whimpering tears rolling down her fur.. "there gone... all gone.."</s> <\|message\|>Rudder The beast of evil faced down the Alpha male of Uutar. The great wolf barked at the beast, "Turn back from whence you came, beast! I will not let you harm my pack or our territory." The creature released a heavy, and mocking, laugh, "I've enslaved every pack before, what makes you think you can take me on?" The beast then brushed a paw against it's large buck-teeth as it's bushy tail twitched in the wind, "I, the Giant Evil Squirrel Overlord of Jumamar will not back down to anyone; especially not you, Rudder the Great! While you may have defeated the Grizzly of Ublar, I will not be as easy." Rudder, the great wolf of the forest, growled at the beast, "Turn back now, or be defeated here." The beast released a roar before charging our hero. Rudder displayed his great speed by jumping to the side, dodging the Giant Evil Squirrel Overlord of Jumamar's attack. He then chomped on the Giant Evil Squirrel Overlord of Jumamar's tail, a sound of both pain and panic erupted from the beast's mouth. Rudder then shook his head from side to side, pulling the full weight of the beast left and right. And he shook... and he shook... and shook... and shook... and- Rudder was brought back to reality; Why is the ground shaking? Dropping the stick from his mouth, Rudder glanced around at his surroundings in worry. He wasn't near the den, probably would get scolded by dad again for wandering off. However, his thoughts were on the more pressing matter of the earth shaking. Rudder also now noticed a loud rumbling coming from the direction of the mountain, What's going on?! As if hearing his thoughts, the ground stopped shaking and the rumbling ceased. He waited a few moments before bolting for the den without second thoughts. What happened? Did the mountain move? Was the earth upset? These thoughts, as well as many others, passed through the little cub's mind as he ran home... Or what was home. It took the sandy-colored wolf cub a few minutes to get within visual rang of the den, where he saw the damage. What... what happened? Boulders, stones, rocks and pebbles could be seen strewn all over the place, as if the mountain had vomited up parts of itself. Movement near what was the den caused the little cub to freeze, Who is that? He took a sniff of the air. All he could smell was the familiar smell of pack-members, stone and... Blood? The little cub needed to get closer to find out what happened but without getting caught. He didn't want to get scolded for running off again. As he quickly, and quietly, climbed up the scree to try to hear or see what's going on. He managed to get close enough to smell distinctly that Kaaili and Jal were nearby. Rudder noticed that they were on the move, down the scree. He stopped on a stone as they moved, hoping not to be noticed as they passed by. The stone he stood on however, didn't like the added weight of the wolf cub. It started to roll down the slope, crashing into other stones or boulders as it did. Rudder gave a quick yelp as he jumped off the stone that intended to take him down with it. The cub managed to keep his footing as he watched the stone tumble down to the bottom of the scree. Rudder quickly looked back at Kaaili and Jal, realizing they probably heard that. He lowered his ears and tucked his tail between his legs, expecting a scolding from either of them for running off again.</s> <\|message\|>Jalil (Jal) Jal had never been more glad to see a pup in his life. He had heard the little rocks tumbling, and for a horrible second he thought the mountain had awakened again. He had whipped his head round, ready to run, when he saw a little bundle of tan fur looking at Kaaili and himself sheepishly. 'Rudder!' He yelped, euphoric. Jalil bounded over to the cub, snuffling and licking him all over in happiness. 'Are you well? Are you hurt? Where were you? Where you in the den?' He prodded Rudder with his nose, not smelling any blood on him, rejoicing in the fact that not all of the Uutar clan were dead. He turned to Kaaili and said, 'Look, Kaaili! Come! Rudder is still alive!'</s> <\|message\|>Kaaili Kaaili's ears pricked and she turned her head as fast as a snake's strike. A precious pup had survived! She rushed after Jal as fast as the unstable scree would allow without sliding again. Practically shaking with the relief that one of the litter wasn't dead, she gave Rudder a couple of reassuring licks, her tail giving a couple wags so strong that they made her posterior wiggle. There'd be no easy way to explain to him that his parents and siblings had been crushed, so she decided that it could wait, unless the pup asked. "Come with us, Rudder. We're not angry at you, but we have to go down the mountain. You've never been below treeline, have you?"</s> <\|message\|>Sasha Sasha stayed to the ground her whimpering not stoping she didnt know what to do she was alone and confused about what had happen from what she knew she was all that was left of her pack.. but then a thought crossed her mind what about the other packs. what became of them... she knew the Rretili were sneaky but could they have survived and the Uutar well they were very un trusting but she still was concerned.. they all had pups and elders... maybe some of them survived .. she knew she was closer to the Uutar borders. she looked up toward the mountain top and let out one last loud howl the last one she had in her "Help Please!"</s> <\|message\|>DeadWood DeadWood's ears flicked and she quickly turned her head in the direction of the Eirir. Faintly she could hear a desperate howl for help, so desperate it almost sounded broken. It wasn't as faint as the howl she heard earlier, so the only other option was that it was a howl from an Eirir wolf. DeadWood growled at herself, thinking about what she should do next. "As far as I know my pack is gone, hunters could possibly still be out, but two is better than one I suppose..." She thought to herself, and then chuckled, "Well, if hunters DO find me, I better have someone else for them to pick." DeadWood said to herself and then quickly weaved her way out of the thorn bushes she had hidden in. Once she was safely out she quickly began to sprint across the burnt forest, towards the direction of the Eirir where the desperate howl came from. Ashes kicked up behind her as she ran as fast as she could. She needed to get there quickly, or else she could have quite possibly put herself back into immense danger. Within minutes DeadWood had bolted past the boarder of the burnt forest and darted into the Eirir territory. DeadWood dodged and weaved around various trees of the territory. After a few minutes of running, she skidded to a halt once she came face-to-face with what used to be the Eirir den. Huffing a bit, DeadWood shouted, "Where are you?!" All she could see were rocks and dust. A few of the large rocks were spattered with blood, but since DeadWood was sinister to begin with, she didn't mind. DeadWood attempted to move a few, they only moved slightly. She growled in annoyance. "Where are you?!" She shouted again and loudly roar-barked a few times to try to alert anyone near-by. ()</s> <\|message\|>Rudder Rudder was a tad bit confused over Jalil and Kaaili's reactions, something didn't seem right. He didn't dwell on this set of thoughts for long with all of Jalil's questions ringing in his ears, "I'm fine..." Kaaili's question caused the little cub to squirm a little, "Erm... No..." It was a half-lie, he had once chased a butterfly of evil down there but not beyond. Rudder tried to quickly think of a way out of more possible troubling questions when he heard a faint howl. "Who was that?"</s> <\|message\|>Sasha Sasha herd a growl and yiped out as she tried to move hearing the voice ask were she was her lungs still smoke filled she could barely speak "over here please on the side" she said trying to be as loud as she could. She twisted her body and tried to grab a nearby rock with her paw and push it out for the other to see. it was a small rock but could be herd and that was enough.</s> <\|message\|>DeadWood DeadWood turned as she heard a weak voice call out from her left. As she turned she saw a small rock tumble towards her paws. She carefully padded towards the direction the rock tumbled from, as she walked past a few more large rocks she spotted a white female wolf with her leg trapped underneath another large rock. DeadWood paused and glanced inside the den, seeing nothing but fallen rocks and crushed bodies. "You, my dear, are very lucky to be alive at this moment.." DeadWood said, now looking down at the wolf. DeadWood must have looked very grim and intimidating due to the other female's position. DeadWood was already rather tall, but from the other's angle it was possible for her to look even taller. DeadWood's eyes held no sympathy, her body language showed no urgent concern. Her ears perked forward as she looked at the female's trapped leg. Slowly, DeadWood backed up, head held low in concentration. With a loud growl she darted forward and slammed her torso up against the rock, just giving enough force to cause it to budge and roll away. DeadWood took a few steps back to give the wolf some space, "You, what is your name? Were there any others out hunting or scouting? Because if there are, they might be dead too. Hunters attacked my pack, they might still be out there." DeadWood said, sitting down a few steps away from the wolf. "I am DeadWood."</s> <\|message\|>Sasha "Sasha" she spoke softly moveing her back leg a lil it hurt but felt fine otherwise. "and i dont know i was alseep when i woke up... i busted out of the den but then the rocks they fell.." she looked to the other she was so tall and sleek looking. "you said something about hunters.."</s> <\|message\|>Jalil (Jal) Jalil heard the howl, as faint as it was. He turned to Rudder, aware that the pup wasn't to know about the disaster. Jal decided to just come out with it- the faster he told Rudder, (hopefully) the faster the news would heal. 'Up at the den...' He began, carefully. 'Up at the den, there was a great shower of rocks. Sometimes in the old times the mountains used to become angry, and when they were angry they would spit out their teeth at the world below.' The words flowed easier, as the old tales of his mother and grandmother seemed to come unbidden out of his mouth. 'One of these rocks landed on our den, and..it killed everyone inside. We are the only Uutar left..me, you, and our packmate Kaaili.' 'Now we must go behind the treeline, to hunt and, to find out who that howl belongs to.' He looked at Kaaili, hoping he had explained well enough.</s> <\|message\|>Kaaili Kaaili nodded in approval and closed her eyes to think, hoping that the explanation wouldn't frighten poor little Rudder too much. "We will find food," she agreed, "and we will find out about whoever howled, but we must be careful." She took a couple of pensive steps down the rocky slope and made an effort to keep her ears standing straight in a show of false confidence. "We can't let Rudder out of our sight, so that leaves only one to hunt...unless the howler is worthy of trust." Her hackles raised at the thought of facing a stranger, but she shook the dust out of her fur and continued to lead the way slowly, unsure of herself.</s>	<\|message\|>Rudder Rudder stood there stumped, They're... dead? The familiar smell of his pack was evident in the air with a heavy mixture of blood. But... I... I should've been there. I could have saved them! The world around him turned silent, as if his ears turned off to it. He stared blankly at the ground as thoughts of regret crept into his mind. If only I was there. I could have helped. They wouldn't be dead! The cub's eyes watched as a small rock, displaced from Kaaili's paw, rolled down the scree. Without any real thought, he continued to observe the small rock until it collided against a huge boulder, one that was probably three times his size. He remained transfixed on the boulder for a time, his thoughts turning from regret to realization. I could have... could have... All his dreams, all his imaginary adventures, faded into nothing but black and white images to the smell of blood surrounding him, so potent that he could smell the color of it. He was kicked in the stomach by the cruel force that is reality; he was only a pup, nothing more. He wasn't a super strong wolf, he wasn't destined for greatness by some wise-owl's words; he was an ordinary pup. The words of his father crept into his mind, "Don't day-dream too much, you will get disappointed eventually." What hurt the most was that he will never, ever hear him say that again. He'll never get to play with his siblings, lay beside mother or show off his skills to his father. That pain sunk deep into him. He took one final look up the scree at the mountain that he once called home. He had always imagined to leave it for an adventure... but not like this. The young cub then followed closely behind the others; his walk somber, his poster defeated and his spirit broken.</s>
<\|description\|>Rudder Pack: Uutar Gender: Male Age: 3.5 weeks Personality: An overly (and dangerously) adventurous pup who is commonly oblivious to danger. Rudder is commonly found either play-fighting with his siblings or 'hunting a beast of evil'. This usually ends up with him further away from the den then he should be, fighting an imaginary monster before returning home (if not found) covered in mud or thorns. He could be described as; attentive, silly, overly imaginative, tough and annoying/entertaining (depends who you ask). Appearance: Other: While this is his character sheet of who he is, expect him to be basically the opposite (at least at first) because of the extremely traumatic event that he will be introduced to in his first post. He's going to have a bit of PTSD and probably a bit of depression to begin with. Change of plans with first post, less depressing.</s> <\|message\|>Jalil (Jal) Jal had never been more glad to see a pup in his life. He had heard the little rocks tumbling, and for a horrible second he thought the mountain had awakened again. He had whipped his head round, ready to run, when he saw a little bundle of tan fur looking at Kaaili and himself sheepishly. 'Rudder!' He yelped, euphoric. Jalil bounded over to the cub, snuffling and licking him all over in happiness. 'Are you well? Are you hurt? Where were you? Where you in the den?' He prodded Rudder with his nose, not smelling any blood on him, rejoicing in the fact that not all of the Uutar clan were dead. He turned to Kaaili and said, 'Look, Kaaili! Come! Rudder is still alive!'</s> <\|message\|>Kaaili Kaaili's ears pricked and she turned her head as fast as a snake's strike. A precious pup had survived! She rushed after Jal as fast as the unstable scree would allow without sliding again. Practically shaking with the relief that one of the litter wasn't dead, she gave Rudder a couple of reassuring licks, her tail giving a couple wags so strong that they made her posterior wiggle. There'd be no easy way to explain to him that his parents and siblings had been crushed, so she decided that it could wait, unless the pup asked. "Come with us, Rudder. We're not angry at you, but we have to go down the mountain. You've never been below treeline, have you?"</s> <\|message\|>Sasha Sasha stayed to the ground her whimpering not stoping she didnt know what to do she was alone and confused about what had happen from what she knew she was all that was left of her pack.. but then a thought crossed her mind what about the other packs. what became of them... she knew the Rretili were sneaky but could they have survived and the Uutar well they were very un trusting but she still was concerned.. they all had pups and elders... maybe some of them survived .. she knew she was closer to the Uutar borders. she looked up toward the mountain top and let out one last loud howl the last one she had in her "Help Please!"</s> <\|message\|>DeadWood DeadWood's ears flicked and she quickly turned her head in the direction of the Eirir. Faintly she could hear a desperate howl for help, so desperate it almost sounded broken. It wasn't as faint as the howl she heard earlier, so the only other option was that it was a howl from an Eirir wolf. DeadWood growled at herself, thinking about what she should do next. "As far as I know my pack is gone, hunters could possibly still be out, but two is better than one I suppose..." She thought to herself, and then chuckled, "Well, if hunters DO find me, I better have someone else for them to pick." DeadWood said to herself and then quickly weaved her way out of the thorn bushes she had hidden in. Once she was safely out she quickly began to sprint across the burnt forest, towards the direction of the Eirir where the desperate howl came from. Ashes kicked up behind her as she ran as fast as she could. She needed to get there quickly, or else she could have quite possibly put herself back into immense danger. Within minutes DeadWood had bolted past the boarder of the burnt forest and darted into the Eirir territory. DeadWood dodged and weaved around various trees of the territory. After a few minutes of running, she skidded to a halt once she came face-to-face with what used to be the Eirir den. Huffing a bit, DeadWood shouted, "Where are you?!" All she could see were rocks and dust. A few of the large rocks were spattered with blood, but since DeadWood was sinister to begin with, she didn't mind. DeadWood attempted to move a few, they only moved slightly. She growled in annoyance. "Where are you?!" She shouted again and loudly roar-barked a few times to try to alert anyone near-by. ()</s> <\|message\|>Rudder Rudder was a tad bit confused over Jalil and Kaaili's reactions, something didn't seem right. He didn't dwell on this set of thoughts for long with all of Jalil's questions ringing in his ears, "I'm fine..." Kaaili's question caused the little cub to squirm a little, "Erm... No..." It was a half-lie, he had once chased a butterfly of evil down there but not beyond. Rudder tried to quickly think of a way out of more possible troubling questions when he heard a faint howl. "Who was that?"</s> <\|message\|>Sasha Sasha herd a growl and yiped out as she tried to move hearing the voice ask were she was her lungs still smoke filled she could barely speak "over here please on the side" she said trying to be as loud as she could. She twisted her body and tried to grab a nearby rock with her paw and push it out for the other to see. it was a small rock but could be herd and that was enough.</s> <\|message\|>DeadWood DeadWood turned as she heard a weak voice call out from her left. As she turned she saw a small rock tumble towards her paws. She carefully padded towards the direction the rock tumbled from, as she walked past a few more large rocks she spotted a white female wolf with her leg trapped underneath another large rock. DeadWood paused and glanced inside the den, seeing nothing but fallen rocks and crushed bodies. "You, my dear, are very lucky to be alive at this moment.." DeadWood said, now looking down at the wolf. DeadWood must have looked very grim and intimidating due to the other female's position. DeadWood was already rather tall, but from the other's angle it was possible for her to look even taller. DeadWood's eyes held no sympathy, her body language showed no urgent concern. Her ears perked forward as she looked at the female's trapped leg. Slowly, DeadWood backed up, head held low in concentration. With a loud growl she darted forward and slammed her torso up against the rock, just giving enough force to cause it to budge and roll away. DeadWood took a few steps back to give the wolf some space, "You, what is your name? Were there any others out hunting or scouting? Because if there are, they might be dead too. Hunters attacked my pack, they might still be out there." DeadWood said, sitting down a few steps away from the wolf. "I am DeadWood."</s> <\|message\|>Sasha "Sasha" she spoke softly moveing her back leg a lil it hurt but felt fine otherwise. "and i dont know i was alseep when i woke up... i busted out of the den but then the rocks they fell.." she looked to the other she was so tall and sleek looking. "you said something about hunters.."</s> <\|message\|>Jalil (Jal) Jalil heard the howl, as faint as it was. He turned to Rudder, aware that the pup wasn't to know about the disaster. Jal decided to just come out with it- the faster he told Rudder, (hopefully) the faster the news would heal. 'Up at the den...' He began, carefully. 'Up at the den, there was a great shower of rocks. Sometimes in the old times the mountains used to become angry, and when they were angry they would spit out their teeth at the world below.' The words flowed easier, as the old tales of his mother and grandmother seemed to come unbidden out of his mouth. 'One of these rocks landed on our den, and..it killed everyone inside. We are the only Uutar left..me, you, and our packmate Kaaili.' 'Now we must go behind the treeline, to hunt and, to find out who that howl belongs to.' He looked at Kaaili, hoping he had explained well enough.</s> <\|message\|>Kaaili Kaaili nodded in approval and closed her eyes to think, hoping that the explanation wouldn't frighten poor little Rudder too much. "We will find food," she agreed, "and we will find out about whoever howled, but we must be careful." She took a couple of pensive steps down the rocky slope and made an effort to keep her ears standing straight in a show of false confidence. "We can't let Rudder out of our sight, so that leaves only one to hunt...unless the howler is worthy of trust." Her hackles raised at the thought of facing a stranger, but she shook the dust out of her fur and continued to lead the way slowly, unsure of herself.</s> <\|message\|>Rudder Rudder stood there stumped, They're... dead? The familiar smell of his pack was evident in the air with a heavy mixture of blood. But... I... I should've been there. I could have saved them! The world around him turned silent, as if his ears turned off to it. He stared blankly at the ground as thoughts of regret crept into his mind. If only I was there. I could have helped. They wouldn't be dead! The cub's eyes watched as a small rock, displaced from Kaaili's paw, rolled down the scree. Without any real thought, he continued to observe the small rock until it collided against a huge boulder, one that was probably three times his size. He remained transfixed on the boulder for a time, his thoughts turning from regret to realization. I could have... could have... All his dreams, all his imaginary adventures, faded into nothing but black and white images to the smell of blood surrounding him, so potent that he could smell the color of it. He was kicked in the stomach by the cruel force that is reality; he was only a pup, nothing more. He wasn't a super strong wolf, he wasn't destined for greatness by some wise-owl's words; he was an ordinary pup. The words of his father crept into his mind, "Don't day-dream too much, you will get disappointed eventually." What hurt the most was that he will never, ever hear him say that again. He'll never get to play with his siblings, lay beside mother or show off his skills to his father. That pain sunk deep into him. He took one final look up the scree at the mountain that he once called home. He had always imagined to leave it for an adventure... but not like this. The young cub then followed closely behind the others; his walk somber, his poster defeated and his spirit broken.</s> <\|message\|>Jalil (Jal) The trees were still green and full of life, looking the same, like the disaster up the mountain had never happened. There were squirrels up in the branches, and birds clogging up his ears with their whistles. Jalil saw a rabbit dart out from the undergrowth, but he wasn't feeling hungry. His appetite had fled him as soon as the boulders fell. More than anything, he wished to find the wolf that had howled. The sound seemed to come from the Eirir Hills, which he assumed meant that the Eirir had encountered trouble as well. It could be a lone wolf: they were usually found in the Eirir territory, seeing as the Rretili had little patience for the exiled creatures, and few wolves dared to climb the dangerous scree alone. He turned to Kaaili. 'I would howl, to see if that wolf would answer, but that would alert any other wolves in the area...and we can't survive an attack with just us, right?' He hoped Kaaili would give him some guidance- he was by no means a leader, and wasn't quite sure of what to do.</s> <\|message\|>Kaaili "Let's not howl," decided Kaaili. "Not yet. It's too dangerous." Then again, though, traveling out of the familiar territory of the Uutar was also dangerous, yet here they were. Her tail stuck straight out behind her as she picked her way down the rocky slope and descended under the treeline. Two bluebirds huddled in a nest with their chicks and the sight of that family, whole and together, made Kaaili's heart ache. "Maybe if we reach a place that's easily defendable, like a cliff. I'd rather find them first, though." She hated to be the one making the decisions. It was so new, and she didn't want to make a mistake and get her only kin killed.</s>	<\|message\|>Rudder Rudder quietly followed behind them, not giving ear to what was being said. He simply observed their surroundings with a blank stare, things he once imagined of seeing now mean little to his young eyes.</s>
<\|description\|>Jiang Baji Clan: Shima Title: The Dog of Shima Gender: Male Age: 19 Race: Human Height: 5'11 Weight: 182 lbs Appearance: Ignore eyepatch and five other swords. Occupation: Traveling vagabond and outlaw Notable Skills: Master of Posing: As a member of his family, being able to strike a pose and look great during all that he does is paramount. They may be separated right now, but posing is still a very important skill to maintain. Dueling: During his years of enslavement he excelled at one on one fighting. Jiang has no physical problems with groups, he just prefers not having to watch his back while beating whatever is in front of him. The less he has to worry about, the more he is able to focus. Magical Abilities: N/A Familiars: N/A Ki Techniques/powers: A foreign technique that he was taught while living in a slave encampment. It is used to calm one's nerves and mind before and after partaking in dangerous missions. Weapons: His personal sword, it has been in his family for four generations, his father and grandfather have used it, though it's reputation has been tarnished due to their illicit lifestyle. His sword is deemed worthless and trash but Jiang Baji still uses it to this day and will restore both of their honor. Other Gear: Enough money to spend a week in a standard inn/hotel. Personality: Loyal, outgoing, eccentric and over the top. These were all common traits belonging to his brothers and sisters. Brief history: Enslaved by birth after his parents struck out and lived their lives as high profile criminals. He comes from a long family of criminals who have committed crimes against his own nation and the foreign nation in which he was raised. He, like his brothers and sisters were made to live their lives as weapons and serve the foreign nation by completing highly dangerous missions until their deaths. They believed that they would be granted freedom and their honor restored if they do enough, but their leader and eldest brother found out that they never had any intentions of releasing them so he planned an escape. Once free, they began a crusade to restore the honor to their names and to clear themselves of all charges and debt that they inherited from their families. The world expected them to be just like their families so they dressed the part, looking like eccentric vagabonds but going around in the foreign nation and righting wrongs, helping the little guy and saving lives until that foreign government gives up on their pursuit and identify them as cleared individuals. Six months after their escape and they found it necessary to split up and partake in individual tasks to help achieve goals as a whole. Though he never stepped foot into this land before, he was the best candidate to travel to the islands of Baji, gather influence and find someone powerful enough to speak on their behalf, or to help them fight if it ever came down to that. He allied himself with the first clan that would take him in with very little questions asked and here is where his journey picks up. Other: Jiang Baji is not his real name. He does know his real name.</s> <\|message\|>Jiang Baji Things were starting to heat up and Baji was becoming more and more excited. Someone may have been waiting on them to arrive, even one was armed. The opportunity to meet their enemy, find out who's behalf they act on and deal a crushing blow to their operation if they truly were an enemy. Baji had hoped that these people were friendly though and able to help them all get further. He wasn't aware of any further aid being delivered after leaving so soon but it was a possibility. The Dog of Shima stretched out his arms and rolled his neck around in circles to loosen up his joints. This would be a group decision but he hoped everyone would see the opportunity ahead of them and move forward instead of going around to avoid conflict. Jiang Baji unsheathed his blade and pointed it forward to their destination. "We should move forward. If they are waiting on us so patiently then we should happily oblige them. If they are friends then great, if they are enemies then even better. We beat them up, ask for information and move forward on our journey. I suggest we approach peacefully though." He then went over towards Gin and nudged him in the shoulder with his elbow to get his attention. "Hey, do you mind staying near our guide as we move forward? He may need some protection if these guys are looking to hurt us."</s> <\|message\|>Kenji Takeda The group Kenji had been traveling with was certainly not the regular kind. Though then again, they needed to be special since they were on a special mission. Its specialness increased when Metou the old Tengu used some magic involving plopping an eye into her empty eye socket which transformed her into a younger version of herself. She told everyone not to pry which and so no one did despite raising the entire group's curiosity. Some time later, Jiang began a speech about taking other people's lives. Though he had a lot of good points, Kenji was sure that dealing death was more of a 'spur of the moment' thing than a well thought-out decision. If blood was to be shed, then it shall be shed though the Yang would prefer more peaceful outcomes, even if there was a war going on and much unrest was to be found in their journey. Soon, Takumi the guide warned of multiple presences ahead of them. They wore unusual clothing and they could be the thieves behind the robbery of the Shima Clan's artifacts. Jiang certainly wanted to meet them and suggested to do so. Kenji thought there was little reason not to. "Agreed but we should still be careful. We do not know who they are and they are expecting us."</s> <\|message\|>Yuudai Wakahisa Yuudai gave a curt nod to Takumi when he told her that they would be there rather soon, which was good because she was already getting hungry by this point. She did take note of the crows that their guide interacted with, clearly being connected with him in some way, though in what way she did not know. Still they apparently made for pretty good scouts given that they could relay news to their master, and it was lucky they that had done so, otherwise they may have been in real danger. "I agree, they are either our first lead or Ru knew we were coming, either way let us meet them" She was alright with Baji's little plan, after all it made sense and it was not like she saw the waiting group as any kind of threat, more so given that they were not even trying to hide. However she did not agree on one little thing "You coming Gin? We can be up front if you like." Taking her hands out of her pockets she started to move forward "You are free to stay back if you wish guide. If you want you can ask one of the others for protect as well." She was clearly not making her self a option for this as even now she was moving up, after all she was not one to waste other peoples or her own time.</s> <\|message\|>Tetsuya Ueno Tetsuya had no real idea how to move along with his search, only that he knew he had to. It stood to reason that someone in Ru had the information he was seeking, but actually coming across that person was going to be difficult. Stolen relics were hardly the things of common trade so anyone that had knowledge of it was probably less than reputable, and therefore most people wouldn't know of them. Its times like this he wouldn't mind having someone a little more... Knowledgeable of how the underground world worked, then perhaps he'd not be chasing ghosts. If he kept at it he was bound to stumble across something, but who knows how long that might take? When being quick about it was fair important he couldn't quite afford to wander about hoping to strike it lucky. In the not too far distance the young Neko began to pick up an awful lot of voices, and if he wasn't mistaken the clatter of steel against stone as well. Marching troops? It sounded rhythmic so that made sense, but why were there troops moving? Was it Ru's own or was it something else? He had no personal claim in the matter but he was curious, enough so that he began to follow the sounds to try and see what it was. The swathes of people gathered along a main road was show enough of where the spectacle was, and Tetsuya had to pick his way through the crowds in order to get eyes on just what was happening. He'd expected perhaps one of the local nobility was passing through, or if he were so fortunate perhaps Lady Ru herself. What he found on the other sides of the crowd, however, was far from pleasing. "Naji...?" Tetsuya whispered, frowning as he glanced over at the norimono. What was someone like her doing all the way out here? It was a bit odd that such an important person would show up like this, though he could hardly claim to know what went on between rulers. When the soldiers parted and the kitsune woman began to speak he couldn't help but feel a little war of what was happening. Just by nature he had to be cautious of strangers, it was basically required by his position as a guard to do so. While he may have no personal stake in Ru he did need these people's aid, and anything that might inhibit his search would be a problem. It would hardly work for him to ask them to leave, he wasn't nearly thick enough to even consider such a thing. But maybe their being here wasn't all bad, maybe he could work it to his advantage. If the future Empress was seeking an audience with Lady Ru, and indeed she was, she was all but guaranteed to get it. Should Tetsuya be able to join the convoy then he'd surely reach the palace, and perhaps even be permitted an audience as well. Unless he had some serious claim himself to enter the palace grounds he didn't think it likely he'd see the Lady himself; Shima's badge may hold some weight, but with brigands and bandits roaming one could never be completely certain someone was who they said they were. Tetsuya decided then if he was to get in touch with Lady Ru then this was his best chance. Seeing no other option he broke rank in the crowd, stepping out to the road to confront the kitsune woman. Naturally the guards and soldiers around the area immediately went to their weapons, to which he only responded by putting his hands up defensively, trying to show he meant no harm. "Relax, I'm not here to cause trouble, I only wish to make a request," Tetsuya explained, trying to sound far more authoritative than his youthful voice might allow. Relieved when the guards looked to ease up a bit he looked at the kitsune woman, smiling faintly before making a polite bow in her direction. "I'm seeking an audience with Lady Ru as well, on behalf of Lord Shima. If it's not too much trouble I'd like to join you and your Lady in visiting her." He didn't want to admit he was utterly lost and needed directions, there was a little bit of pride to be had after all.</s> <\|message\|>Gin (pronounced 'Jin') Despite his worries that something might happen, Gin was feeling pretty prepared and willing to try and show he could still fight. If he was to be an adventurer then he was going to have to get serious. He was going to be the best Half-Oni there was, even if there was another one in their group. He would stand up to these people up ahead if they dared threatened his group, if he could keep trying to be brave about it. This was hard even for him when he was supposed to have all the confidence in the world given what he was and what he was supposed to do. Holding his head up high as he walked he couldn't help but gasp when Jiang nudged his shoulder, giving it a rub as he gave him an annoyed look before looking away. "What? I thought that would be something you would want to do". Feeling fairly confused about his decisions his eyes soon wandered away from Jiang before up to Yuudai, curious when she mentioned him by name. He didn't think she'd be comfortable with someone of his stature holding up the front along with her, given the fact she was of such a height difference that it'd probably look like a joke to their possible attackers. "What? You want me up front too?" he questioned her before smiling, showing off his sharp teeth, "I'm not going to stand back and let everything happen without me. I'm capable of protecting others!" Moving quickly to the front Gin held onto his cloak, keeping his strides fairly long so he could keep ahead of the others without falling behind his post.</s>	<\|message\|>Jiang Baji Jiang was not used to such disarray in a group. He simply motioned his hand over his head when Yuudai spoked as she seemed to miss the entire point of his request. Her attitude became infectious and Gin quickly followed up with her and now their guide would be left alone to fend for himself if anything happened. "He's the only one that needs protection..." Baji thought to himself as he sulkily walked over to Takumi to provide him with the assurance that he would be protected no matter what went down. Baji wasn't as strong or durable as Gin so if a surprise attack occurred or he was caught off guard then Jiang would fall to the first blade that pierced his flesh. He wasn't mad, it was good to know early on that he couldn't entrust the important tasks to others. He really wanted their strongest member to protect the weakest and most needed as they all moved together, but today Takumi had the dog at his side and that's who he would have to depend on from this moment on. Standing next to Takumi he sighed and spoke low enough for them to hear or anyone with a strong sense of hearing. "I'm sorry, I wanted him to watch your back but I don't think that they trust me. No matter what though, if they are the enemy then I will fall before you do, this I swear. I will not let any harm come to you while I live." Jiang then spoke up to the two half-Onis. "Well, go ahead, lead us onward."</s>
<\|description\|>Jiang Baji Clan: Shima Title: The Dog of Shima Gender: Male Age: 19 Race: Human Height: 5'11 Weight: 182 lbs Appearance: Ignore eyepatch and five other swords. Occupation: Traveling vagabond and outlaw Notable Skills: Master of Posing: As a member of his family, being able to strike a pose and look great during all that he does is paramount. They may be separated right now, but posing is still a very important skill to maintain. Dueling: During his years of enslavement he excelled at one on one fighting. Jiang has no physical problems with groups, he just prefers not having to watch his back while beating whatever is in front of him. The less he has to worry about, the more he is able to focus. Magical Abilities: N/A Familiars: N/A Ki Techniques/powers: A foreign technique that he was taught while living in a slave encampment. It is used to calm one's nerves and mind before and after partaking in dangerous missions. Weapons: His personal sword, it has been in his family for four generations, his father and grandfather have used it, though it's reputation has been tarnished due to their illicit lifestyle. His sword is deemed worthless and trash but Jiang Baji still uses it to this day and will restore both of their honor. Other Gear: Enough money to spend a week in a standard inn/hotel. Personality: Loyal, outgoing, eccentric and over the top. These were all common traits belonging to his brothers and sisters. Brief history: Enslaved by birth after his parents struck out and lived their lives as high profile criminals. He comes from a long family of criminals who have committed crimes against his own nation and the foreign nation in which he was raised. He, like his brothers and sisters were made to live their lives as weapons and serve the foreign nation by completing highly dangerous missions until their deaths. They believed that they would be granted freedom and their honor restored if they do enough, but their leader and eldest brother found out that they never had any intentions of releasing them so he planned an escape. Once free, they began a crusade to restore the honor to their names and to clear themselves of all charges and debt that they inherited from their families. The world expected them to be just like their families so they dressed the part, looking like eccentric vagabonds but going around in the foreign nation and righting wrongs, helping the little guy and saving lives until that foreign government gives up on their pursuit and identify them as cleared individuals. Six months after their escape and they found it necessary to split up and partake in individual tasks to help achieve goals as a whole. Though he never stepped foot into this land before, he was the best candidate to travel to the islands of Baji, gather influence and find someone powerful enough to speak on their behalf, or to help them fight if it ever came down to that. He allied himself with the first clan that would take him in with very little questions asked and here is where his journey picks up. Other: Jiang Baji is not his real name. He does know his real name.</s> <\|message\|>Jiang Baji Baji was going to respond to Kenji and tell him that he trusts Tetsuya's reasons for lying to them just as much as he trusts his own for doing the same to him, but it seems like the person in question completely mistook his words. Jiang simply sighed deeply as another person became hostile and misunderstood him. Tetsuya didn't know the severity of the entire situation that they were in so he kept himself calm by repeating that in his head. He didn't recall treating Tetsuya any less than the next person. "I have nothing against you, I can even see why you're so defensive, but you have misunderstood my words. I have nothing but respect for you and those that I fight beside. How about we go to sleep on this and you meet me by the town gate at the crack of dawn, because there is something that I want to show you. There is something that I want you to understand and something that I need to understand." He thought about it some more and figured now was also a good time if the neko was more up for it.</s> <\|message\|>Gin (pronounced 'Jin') Gin hoped they weren't going anywhere without them, even if there was no real reason for the others to leave them behind. He did wonder if the others went on ahead and they were left to head back to Shima just how much trouble there would be whether for them or the ones who left them behind. They were supposed to be working as a team, after all, but who knew if they actually wanted them along. Gin hadn't made any companions so he did worry he might get forgotten about, even if he slept in for too long. Maybe it was just anxieties building from the possibility of being alone and left behind because of how young and 'inexperienced' he was. Watching Metou head on out he let out a disappointed sigh, feeling terrible that he was essentially making it difficult for others. He just wanted to feel useful. Sighing as he rubbed his neck, waiting for Metou to return as he stared at the people, watching them all interact with each other and how strange some of them got in the process. This was probably why he never went to this kind of place before, too many strangers for his liking. When Metou returned he gave her a hopeful smile, but when she spoke of her decision he frowned, looking down with a sigh. "Stay here? But what if…uhh…" He couldn't say much, at least not when Metou suddenly declared her decision to be a good one. "Wait, but it's only a little bit of darkness! I'm strong, I can protect us in the dark", he spoke quickly, following on after Metou, "Have a little faith in me, please? Yuudai has a particular smell, maybe I can pick it up…"</s> <\|message\|>Metou Toribaba Gin brought up an objection to Metou's new decision, and Metou immediately paused and turned to hear him out. Getting stuck out on the streets late at night was still a very unappealing possibility to Metou, even if this town didn't seem too bad. However, Metou respected Gin's abilities and decisions, or at least felt obligated to respect them despite not knowing him very well yet. More importantly she would hate for Gin to think he wasn't taken seriously, and bring down his confidence even lower than it already seemed. "I suppose I might be giving up too early, and we'd want to give Kiko a prompt response," Metou said, though with the slightly frustrated tone of someone who just had an early night's sleep ripped away from them for the sake of the greater good. "Two of our companions went to see Lady Ru, so I know of a place they've been, at least," Metou said, "But Yuudai ran off to get food, so I have a fairly good idea of where she went too. If you're confident in your nose, we could try and track her down first."</s> <\|message\|>Gin (pronounced 'Jin') Gin was sure he could use his senses to help find the others, or at least one of them if they got unlucky. He didn't want everybody to split up like this and with the group all in different places it seemed as if they were going to have trouble communicating with each other to where they were going and when they were going to head out. They had to pick up this musician too on the way out which could be a problem if they were all properly split up. The musician could wander off or get impatient with them and decide to strike off the deal which would be a disaster. Staring at Metou with hopeful eyes he smiled slightly when she admitted the danger wasn't too much of a big deal quite yet. He would do what he could to protect her and was fairly confident he would do a good job too. He had practiced for a long time and did manage to slice up that strange stony man's legs so he couldn't be that bad at fighting. Sighing happily when Metou gave him some direction to look for he nodded quickly, looking to the door. "I won't let you down! If we follow a trail from where we last saw her, it should be easy! Right?" he spoke quickly, looking back to her, "Then if we can track down the other group, we can stay at the inn together, right? Or maybe even sleep under the stars…like adventurers!" Heading quickly to the door, Gin couldn't help but feel excited and anxious about doing this, hoping he might achieve this difficult task. He was fairly good at smelling out others, even for a half-Oni. He figured it was his hunger that made his sense of smell better, but using that to track down people shouldn't be a problem. He wondered if he should be looking for the group that went to Ru first just to see what the place they had the Lady in was like, but that might be a little suspicious at this time of day. Heading out the door he looked around, his first thought being to head back to the marketplace where all the people were before once Metou was ready to go.</s> <\|message\|>Tetsuya Ueno Tetsuya really didn't appreciate a stranger being in his room and insulting him like this. Even if Lord Shima had indeed sent Jiang that didn't necessarily mean he was going to personally like the man. For his Lord's sake he would cooperate, or try to, but that was about the extent of their partnership. His position softened a little when some of the uncertainty was cleared, yet the Neko still held some reservations. Just who was he exactly, and what reason was he here, handling Shima matters? Far as Tetsuya could recall, Jiang wasn't a resident of Shima, so did that make him a hired sword? Leaving a job so sensitive and important to someone like that didn't seem right, and he became naturally wary of anyone from outside his home; trusting Jiang wasn't impossible, but for the time being he wasn't exactly going to befriend the man. Looking at Jiang curiously as he proposed a meeting tomorrow, Tetsuya bit his lip uncertainly and glanced over at the door. Should be bother? It would probably be more of the same, with the man trying to convince him to go and see Lady Ru. He couldn't see much purpose in it if that were the case, but if they were to be cooperating on this mission of theirs he figured he should at least make an effort to get along. "Well... Alright then, I guess I can do that much," the Neko mumbled, looking back at Jiang with a slight frown, "As long as you agree that you won't go and see Lady Ru by yourself. You're helping us in Shima's affairs, so it's only right that someone from Shima come along. I've already spoken with her, so it'd make sense for me to go with you since I know her at least." Hopefully the Princess wasn't there tomorrow, he wasn't so sure he could take more of her odd behavior. "Whatever you decide, let me know in the morning. I've been walking all day and I'm tired, I need sleep," Tetsuya added, stifling a yawn with one hand as he stretched the other up over his head. His armor didn't really contribute to his exhaustion, at least not anymore as he was used to the added weight. Actually being on his feet all day, coupled with not eating much had taken its toll and now that the day had winded down he was really feeling the effects. Shuffling over to where his bedroll lay he took a seat on the floor beside it, again stretching his arms with a big yawn before rubbing at his eyes, glancing up at Kenji and Jiang curiously. "Unless you two plan on sharing a room with me I'd appreciate a bit of privacy. Just come knocking whenever you're up Jiang, I should be awake plenty early."</s> <\|message\|>Metou Toribaba Metou followed Gin to the door, but he was so excited that Metou couldn't keep up easily. Going out this late for because he wanted to sleep outside was the last straw, though. "We'll have plenty of nights under the stars on the trail, I'm sure, let's savor our roofs while we have them!" Metou said half-angrily and half-jokingly as they exited the inn. Once they were outside, Gin seemed to be indicating towards the marketplace where Yuudai ran off to. Despite how large her nose was, Metou didn't have a great sense of smell, probably even worse than a human's, and she was completely reliant on Gin to trail the others. "Lead the way," Metou said, hoping he wouldn't lead too quickly to keep up.</s>	<\|message\|>Jiang Baji Baji stood there in the door, nodding his head up and down as Tetsuya spoke to him and laid out his terms for tomorrow. He was going to go and get some sleep of his own after he was done with the neko. "Well, if you go along then that will make two vassals of Shima attending, that will be fine." Jiang didn't clarify his words nor did he wait to see if Tetsuya fully understood what he was saying. He simply strolled off downstairs to rent a room for himself and go to sleep.</s>
<\|description\|>Yuudai Wakahisa Clan: Shima Title: Yuudai the Demon of Shima Gender: Female Age: 19 Race: Half-Oni Height: 6'4 Appearance: "You bore me..." Occupation: Enforcer / Youkai Mystic Notable Skills: Combat: As expected of someone with Oni blood running through their body Yuu is a natural fighter capable of taking on both armed enemies and beasts with her bare hands. She tends to only use her fists as to not accidentally kill anyone, but she does wield large weapons with surprising amount of skill. Though she does not have any 'martial arts' training, her natural talent and instincts combined with her oni blood more than make up for any downfall. Cooking:A secret Passion for Yuu is cooking! She will more than happily cook for almost anyone and enjoy it, even if she complains about it. She hopes one day to outclass even the best cook in Baji. Handy: Being raised by a seemingly lazy women who often went out a lot, Yuu was left to defend for herself most of the time and learned a lot of basic skills. Ranging from sewing, fixing a cart wheel to stopping a old roof from caving in! Youkai Mystic: When one is the adoptive daughter of the Legendary Youkai Mystic Kyuki Wakahisa, one is commonly expected to know a little something themselves. Yuu's knowledge is in demand given that her mother does not take requests, and given it often lands her good money she does not mind. Magical Abilities:N/A Familiars: N/A Ki Techniques/powers: N/A Weapons: A massive old blade of the oni tribes that has been mostly mistreated. She often wont carry the blade around unless traveling. Other Gear: Sake Jug: Filled with fruity low alcohol sake. Money wallet bag: Something to keep her money in Thin wire: Something she picked up for tieing things up and it can even be used to cut wood, works as a sort of weapon too. Youkai Survival kit: Basic things such as a small knife, fishing line, hooks, incense, fire lighters, super basic seals. Personality: Yuu may seem indifferent towards the world and its problems but deep down she cares, she just chooses not to show it on the surface. She loves good food more than anything else, even more than booze which she tries to avoid the strong stuff out of fear of becoming addicted and the ... Incident happening again. Despite her indifference towards modesty she has a shy weakness towards compliments. However her half blood nature shows when she is in battle as she enjoys a good fight more than anything, even holding back in an effort to make any fight last longer. Brief history: On a stormy night many years ago a Oni women came to the house of Kyuki, a old friend, and pleaded with the women to care for the small bundle that she held within her arms. Out of friendship the women agreed and take the bundle into her home, watching the Oni rest her sword against the side of the building before sprinting off into the storm. A sad look overcame the womens face as she unwrapped the bundle, reveling a small baby within with eyes of darkest night and brightest gold. That was the day that Yuu came to reside within the Legendery Youkai Mystics hut, being raised by her human mother whose methods while unorthodox were effective in raising a world wise child. Though she had only a few friends within the near by human village and was feared for her rather unqiue eyes, she grew up relatively safely and by the time she was a teen was fending off bandits and beasts from her home. On the day she had come of age a rather noble looking man came to their home begging with her mother to come join the Shima clan, however in a sudden twist of fate Kyuki gestured to Yuu "Why not take her. Tis good enough" She smirked, taking a puff from her pipe and staring down to a shocked Yuu. A rather heated argument came about from that involving words Yuu wished she had never said, as now she knows that Kyuki was only trying to get her a good life. Thankfully the very next day was when she noticed this, and so joined the Shima clan. Other: Kyuki, her mother, is currently traveling Her eyes are unique, even among Oni</s> <\|message\|>Jiang Baji Jiang Baji was more offended by the half-hearted introduction than he was by the passive aggression from Gin. Jiang's eyes were wide open and staring down at his friend when he heard him say whatever after introducing himself and immediately jumped in to correct him after Takumi was done speaking once more. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Gin, you can't do that, man! You gotta sell yourself! You have speak valiantly and with pride in your title!" Jiang moved behind his buddy, lifting him up and putting him on his shoulders like his kid brother. "Now we say "I'm Gin The Halfling, greatest blacksmith in all of Shima and soon to be all of Baji!" We'll working on your posing moves later." The azure warrior placed his friend down and got more serious as he put all of his focus on to Takumi's response. It was a possible route but it was very dangerous compared to the other two and they would have no help from Shima villages, nor we they have the righteous advantage of the law aiding them in a non-Shima territory. The group would more than likely be outnumbered if they were to go down that route and he wasn't sure if they would be capable of fighting together in order to preserve one another's life. "Well, I would hate to ask you to do something that you would rather not do. I'm not sure if we would be able to make it through if we get into a fight, but I like our odds so long as those two are by our side." He said, nodding his head towards Yuudai and Gin. Jiang then turns to his allies and asks for their input. "This is a group decision, going that third route seems to be potentially risking our lives. If anyone is against it, then I say we don't go at all. How do you all feel?" He asked while looking at his friends and awaiting their valued opinions.</s> <\|message\|>Kenji Takeda A quick-written farewell letter. That was all Lord Oja had to bid farewell to his vassal Kenji. The Yang was not at all displeased about this. His Lord was never a man of words, always keeping it forward and blunt in both oral and written. "Tell Lord Oja farewell as well." Kenji ordered the Oja messenger. "And to pray for our success." The messenger bowed and went on his way just as Kenji did along with his compatriots. The village also bid them farewell, some believing they were a lost cause while some believing they will return in one piece. Kenji really preferred the latter. In time, the guide had appeared and introduced himself as Takumi of the Kunteki Clan. He was from Naji but assured the group that will not get in the way of his job. Yuudai was the first to speak up then Jiang then the halfling Gin. Their conversation was mainly about where to search first and the three routes include the Shima village Uta, the village of Ru or the bandits' route. The third one was no doubt dangerous and so Jiang and Takumi turned to the others for the group's decision. "If I may," Kenji spoke up. "We already know the village of Uta may be helpful since likely everyone there would cooperate with our search. However, the thieves may know this and so might not go there at all... or they could and use magic to properly conceal themselves. The village of Ru, on the other hand, is their logical choice to flee since it is outside Shima influence. The villagers there, however, may require more to cooperate or they may be in agreement with the thieves' not to reveal their location." "The third route, while dangerous, may provide the most information since it is bandits and vagabonds who are most knowledgeable in the latest gossips of plots and schemes." Kenji finished. "Or so I believe. I am merely relaying my thoughts and I could be wrong in everything I said."</s> <\|message\|>Yuudai Wakahisa Yuudai was picking through what Lord Shima had decided to give them in terms of supplies and she had to admit that she was rather impressed by what they had gotten. The food was what she was most interested in of course, making sure to pick through the assortment and try and wonder just what she was going to do with it in terms of a proper meal. For a moment she looked back to the sword on her back, the old hilt of the blade poking out from the clothe it was covered in, wondering if she should obtain a new better blade than the one she had now. S shook that thought out of her mind, she was sure she would not even have to use it. Though she had been listening to the group and their talk on what to do she decided that just stating what each section would entail was not going to get them anywhere. Turning around she watched the silly poses that Jiang was putting on as he was thinking, she would never get use to that. Yuu decided to put the issue to rest "We are going to Uta to check up on some freindly sources, it will provide good leads and then we can head to Ru where they may have passed on their way out of Shima land. However if we must then we can go with the more shady areas, but I would like to avoid it as long as possible." Clearly she was not use to working in groups like this, as her indifferent tone was very much 'my way' about it.</s> <\|message\|>Metou Toribaba It was against Metou's nature to jump into a heated conversation if she wasn't needed, and although she had an opinion, so long as the others were still discussing the matter of their next target she felt no inclination to voice it. It seemed like too much energy to involve herself in Jiang's theatrics, or to get in Yuudai's face. However, once the latter tried to put her foot down on the side Metou disagreed with, she felt the need to intervene. "Going to Uta would be a waste of our time, and we don't have any time to spare," Metou said, looking primarily at Yuudai. "Whatever plans these thieves have for the stolen relics, they undoubtedly lie outside of Shima. Uta is perfectly capable of searching for the relics within their own borders, our skills are better used outside of Shima territory." After speaking, Metou felt her tone was probably more authoritative than necessary, but Yuudai acting the same to push everyone in a direction she disagreed with had made the old woman a bit defensive. She tried to lighten her tone a bit and continued, "We should go to Ru to look for clues and inform the leadership there of Shima's plight. Some den of thieves may hold more information, but considering the risk it should be a last resort." Metou felt flexible about that last part.</s> <\|message\|>Gin (pronounced 'Jin') Gin thought he had done pretty alright with introducing himself, at least for someone who had never actually met someone in his life that wasn't from Shima. He wasn't a great conversationalist that was for sure. Staring up at Takumi he sighed lightly when the guy took his greeting well, staring up at the man as he spoke before gasping when Jiang's voice suddenly raised up, his head immediately turning to him as he watched him all confused. "W-What? What are you-!" Before he could even protest he was suddenly lifted up in the air, his arms going out desperately trying to balance himself. Panicking at the strange action he kept his arms out in desperation, not wanting to touch him. "Ahh! I-I'm Gin the Halfling of Shima with blacksmith-uhh greatest blacksmith of Shima and soon Baji now please put me down!" Letting out a groan once he was finally placed back on his feet he dusted down his cloak and gave Jiang an annoyed look. He was not at all happy that he had been treated in such a fashion and was already starting to get sick of being treated like he was a little kid, even if he was short and young. All this guy seemed to do was pick on his height in different ways whether it was commenting straight out that he was short or trying to make him taller; either way, he hoped this wasn't going to become a regular thing. Grumbling as he folded his arms he looked to Jiang as he spoke, wondering at first if he was looking to someone else when he nodded in his direction before feeling confused all over again. Frowning, being asked what the best way to go was going to be a pretty useless question for him when he had never been beyond Shima, especially considering what he was. Looking to the others as they gave their input he soon shrugged himself, shaking his head. "I don't know where anywhere is so I don't know why you'd think I'd be able to give input too. Never been out this far before…"</s> <\|message\|>Jiang Baji Jiang was smiling as he held Gin in the air and hearing him repeat after The Dog made him feel even better. Confidence was always one of the most important qualities of his code. Though their mission was serious, he wanted the others to have fun and enjoy themselves as well and he hoped that Gin would lose his stutter as time moves forward. This world was harsh for half-Onis but that was something very similar to Jiang's own upbringing so he could perfectly sympathize with them. The debate on where to go was still up in the air and though he highly favored the dangerous path, he didn't want to go there unless everyone was able to commit with their whole heart. The old crow had a great counterpoint in regards to traveling to Uta. Ru was the next best place, foreign territory and a chance to increase a neighbor's bond with their lord as opposed to going to a sister village while they're already full on supplies and the like. "I agree with Metou, Ru would be the best option, so let's get on our way!"</s> <\|message\|>Tarou Sasaki Tarou would travel along with the group, quietly and peacefully. He had always enjoyed the great outdoors and would try his best to make a painting or two along the way. Of course, it would never last long since they had to keep moving, so it usually put him down quite a bit. Nevertheless, he was enjoying the journey that they were having, and made no complaints whatsoever. It was at this time that Tarou and the group met a guide. The guide was quite nice, much to Tarou surprise. He was imagining some type of older gentleman who had issues or maybe just some kind of spiritual being that just knew the land very well, inside and out. He listened to the mans words, smiling. "I honestly trust you all in what decision you make. I will follow either way." He said, voicing his opinion. It wasn't much to go on, but it was a better answer than nothing.</s>	<\|message\|>Yuudai Wakahisa Yuudai let the rusty slab of iron drop to the ground, its blunt tip digging into the ground from the sheer weight and causing it to stand upright. "Strange I thought I mentioned the reason why we should do to Uta first." Crossing her arms she had to think for a moment, almost as if trying to put it another way. It seemed like they may have misunderstood to Yuudai, after all more than one person questioned her so that must have been it. She didn't think that they were disagreeing with her at the moment. "It is the most likely place to get information, it is friendly and the closet to have been set up as a base." She turned around to take out a piece of dried meat from one of the packs so that she could have a snack. "But-," She used her fanged teeth to bite and rip into the strip of dried meat. "-if you really want to go to Ru then let us hurry and leave."</s>
<\|description\|>Tarou Sasaki Clan: Sasaki Clan Title: The Rising Sun(Symbolic in the Sasaki Clan for the Son and Heir, as they are the new dawn for the Clan.) Gender: Male Age: 23 Race: Neko Height: 6'1 Weight: 115.081 Ilbs./52.2 Kg Appearance: Occupation:Heir of the Sasaki/Scholar Notable Skills: Enhanced Senses: As a Neko, Tarou has enhanced senses, just like a cat. Unfortunately he is still young, so his senses are quite unskilled compared to older Neko. However, luckily, his are more sensitive than a human beings. Swordplay: As the son and heir of the Clan, Tarou is expected to learn the ways of the sword, so that when he rules, he may uphold his authority. The fighting style of the Sasaki Clan mainly consists of fast and precise movements, with the sword held with two hands. Aside from this, the Clan's ruling family is taught how to disarm with their sword, if the situation calls for it. He still learns to this day, mainly because he still has MUCH to learn. Magical Abilities: NA Familiars: Summoning - Neko sen'nin: The Royal Family can summon the Neko sen'nin, a small cat with human-like clothing on it. Although the cat has NO combat experience, it is mainly used for advisement and information. Ki Techniques/powers: Feather Weight: It's used for general purposes, outside of combat, mainly because it requires a lot of concentration to use. It's most helpful for reaching the top of large buildings and key locations, but can also be used to increase speed, if need be. Weapons: Sasaki Clan Katana - A regular katana, with a bit more durability than most. The only special thing about this blade is that it is the Sasaki Clan's most treasured blade and it's creative design on the hilt and cover. Other Gear: Just some books and painting kits. Personality: Young, brave, and a yearning to learn, Tarou is the ideal heir to a clans leader. Of course, he is not without arrogance, considering he has much to learn in his young age. Perhaps the most notable thing of Tarou's personality is his dedication to not only to the Shima Clan, but to his honor as well. Brief history: Born under the Head of the Sasaki Clan, Tarou was raised to become the next Daimyo. At a very young age, Tarou took a liking to Fine Arts and books, wanting to take a more scholarly approach to life. Although this was accepted, he was still expected to learn the Way of the Sword, and he did so for many years of his teenage life. Growing up was very strange for Tarou, mainly because he did not understand the Sasaki Clans devotion to the Shima Clan. Of course, this would change over time, as he became devoted to the Shima Clan, just as much as others in the Sasaki had. As life continued, Tarou would eventually grow to the age of twenty-three, ready to take the throne and title of Daimyo. Of course, the Shima Clan would lose their relics and call aid in order to regain their lost artifacts. Tarou, seeing this as an opportunity to bring his Clan honor and recognition, would offer himself to go on this quest. With his fathers blessing and the family sword in hand, Tarou would leave at once to the neighboring Shima Clan, ready to take his first leap into adventure... Other: NA</s> <\|message\|>Jiang Baji Jiang Baji was more offended by the half-hearted introduction than he was by the passive aggression from Gin. Jiang's eyes were wide open and staring down at his friend when he heard him say whatever after introducing himself and immediately jumped in to correct him after Takumi was done speaking once more. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Gin, you can't do that, man! You gotta sell yourself! You have speak valiantly and with pride in your title!" Jiang moved behind his buddy, lifting him up and putting him on his shoulders like his kid brother. "Now we say "I'm Gin The Halfling, greatest blacksmith in all of Shima and soon to be all of Baji!" We'll working on your posing moves later." The azure warrior placed his friend down and got more serious as he put all of his focus on to Takumi's response. It was a possible route but it was very dangerous compared to the other two and they would have no help from Shima villages, nor we they have the righteous advantage of the law aiding them in a non-Shima territory. The group would more than likely be outnumbered if they were to go down that route and he wasn't sure if they would be capable of fighting together in order to preserve one another's life. "Well, I would hate to ask you to do something that you would rather not do. I'm not sure if we would be able to make it through if we get into a fight, but I like our odds so long as those two are by our side." He said, nodding his head towards Yuudai and Gin. Jiang then turns to his allies and asks for their input. "This is a group decision, going that third route seems to be potentially risking our lives. If anyone is against it, then I say we don't go at all. How do you all feel?" He asked while looking at his friends and awaiting their valued opinions.</s> <\|message\|>Kenji Takeda A quick-written farewell letter. That was all Lord Oja had to bid farewell to his vassal Kenji. The Yang was not at all displeased about this. His Lord was never a man of words, always keeping it forward and blunt in both oral and written. "Tell Lord Oja farewell as well." Kenji ordered the Oja messenger. "And to pray for our success." The messenger bowed and went on his way just as Kenji did along with his compatriots. The village also bid them farewell, some believing they were a lost cause while some believing they will return in one piece. Kenji really preferred the latter. In time, the guide had appeared and introduced himself as Takumi of the Kunteki Clan. He was from Naji but assured the group that will not get in the way of his job. Yuudai was the first to speak up then Jiang then the halfling Gin. Their conversation was mainly about where to search first and the three routes include the Shima village Uta, the village of Ru or the bandits' route. The third one was no doubt dangerous and so Jiang and Takumi turned to the others for the group's decision. "If I may," Kenji spoke up. "We already know the village of Uta may be helpful since likely everyone there would cooperate with our search. However, the thieves may know this and so might not go there at all... or they could and use magic to properly conceal themselves. The village of Ru, on the other hand, is their logical choice to flee since it is outside Shima influence. The villagers there, however, may require more to cooperate or they may be in agreement with the thieves' not to reveal their location." "The third route, while dangerous, may provide the most information since it is bandits and vagabonds who are most knowledgeable in the latest gossips of plots and schemes." Kenji finished. "Or so I believe. I am merely relaying my thoughts and I could be wrong in everything I said."</s> <\|message\|>Yuudai Wakahisa Yuudai was picking through what Lord Shima had decided to give them in terms of supplies and she had to admit that she was rather impressed by what they had gotten. The food was what she was most interested in of course, making sure to pick through the assortment and try and wonder just what she was going to do with it in terms of a proper meal. For a moment she looked back to the sword on her back, the old hilt of the blade poking out from the clothe it was covered in, wondering if she should obtain a new better blade than the one she had now. S shook that thought out of her mind, she was sure she would not even have to use it. Though she had been listening to the group and their talk on what to do she decided that just stating what each section would entail was not going to get them anywhere. Turning around she watched the silly poses that Jiang was putting on as he was thinking, she would never get use to that. Yuu decided to put the issue to rest "We are going to Uta to check up on some freindly sources, it will provide good leads and then we can head to Ru where they may have passed on their way out of Shima land. However if we must then we can go with the more shady areas, but I would like to avoid it as long as possible." Clearly she was not use to working in groups like this, as her indifferent tone was very much 'my way' about it.</s> <\|message\|>Metou Toribaba It was against Metou's nature to jump into a heated conversation if she wasn't needed, and although she had an opinion, so long as the others were still discussing the matter of their next target she felt no inclination to voice it. It seemed like too much energy to involve herself in Jiang's theatrics, or to get in Yuudai's face. However, once the latter tried to put her foot down on the side Metou disagreed with, she felt the need to intervene. "Going to Uta would be a waste of our time, and we don't have any time to spare," Metou said, looking primarily at Yuudai. "Whatever plans these thieves have for the stolen relics, they undoubtedly lie outside of Shima. Uta is perfectly capable of searching for the relics within their own borders, our skills are better used outside of Shima territory." After speaking, Metou felt her tone was probably more authoritative than necessary, but Yuudai acting the same to push everyone in a direction she disagreed with had made the old woman a bit defensive. She tried to lighten her tone a bit and continued, "We should go to Ru to look for clues and inform the leadership there of Shima's plight. Some den of thieves may hold more information, but considering the risk it should be a last resort." Metou felt flexible about that last part.</s> <\|message\|>Gin (pronounced 'Jin') Gin thought he had done pretty alright with introducing himself, at least for someone who had never actually met someone in his life that wasn't from Shima. He wasn't a great conversationalist that was for sure. Staring up at Takumi he sighed lightly when the guy took his greeting well, staring up at the man as he spoke before gasping when Jiang's voice suddenly raised up, his head immediately turning to him as he watched him all confused. "W-What? What are you-!" Before he could even protest he was suddenly lifted up in the air, his arms going out desperately trying to balance himself. Panicking at the strange action he kept his arms out in desperation, not wanting to touch him. "Ahh! I-I'm Gin the Halfling of Shima with blacksmith-uhh greatest blacksmith of Shima and soon Baji now please put me down!" Letting out a groan once he was finally placed back on his feet he dusted down his cloak and gave Jiang an annoyed look. He was not at all happy that he had been treated in such a fashion and was already starting to get sick of being treated like he was a little kid, even if he was short and young. All this guy seemed to do was pick on his height in different ways whether it was commenting straight out that he was short or trying to make him taller; either way, he hoped this wasn't going to become a regular thing. Grumbling as he folded his arms he looked to Jiang as he spoke, wondering at first if he was looking to someone else when he nodded in his direction before feeling confused all over again. Frowning, being asked what the best way to go was going to be a pretty useless question for him when he had never been beyond Shima, especially considering what he was. Looking to the others as they gave their input he soon shrugged himself, shaking his head. "I don't know where anywhere is so I don't know why you'd think I'd be able to give input too. Never been out this far before…"</s> <\|message\|>Jiang Baji Jiang was smiling as he held Gin in the air and hearing him repeat after The Dog made him feel even better. Confidence was always one of the most important qualities of his code. Though their mission was serious, he wanted the others to have fun and enjoy themselves as well and he hoped that Gin would lose his stutter as time moves forward. This world was harsh for half-Onis but that was something very similar to Jiang's own upbringing so he could perfectly sympathize with them. The debate on where to go was still up in the air and though he highly favored the dangerous path, he didn't want to go there unless everyone was able to commit with their whole heart. The old crow had a great counterpoint in regards to traveling to Uta. Ru was the next best place, foreign territory and a chance to increase a neighbor's bond with their lord as opposed to going to a sister village while they're already full on supplies and the like. "I agree with Metou, Ru would be the best option, so let's get on our way!"</s>	<\|message\|>Tarou Sasaki Tarou would travel along with the group, quietly and peacefully. He had always enjoyed the great outdoors and would try his best to make a painting or two along the way. Of course, it would never last long since they had to keep moving, so it usually put him down quite a bit. Nevertheless, he was enjoying the journey that they were having, and made no complaints whatsoever. It was at this time that Tarou and the group met a guide. The guide was quite nice, much to Tarou surprise. He was imagining some type of older gentleman who had issues or maybe just some kind of spiritual being that just knew the land very well, inside and out. He listened to the mans words, smiling. "I honestly trust you all in what decision you make. I will follow either way." He said, voicing his opinion. It wasn't much to go on, but it was a better answer than nothing.</s>