Anima Member
STATUS: One more final. Yas .... 9 yrs ago
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9 yrs ago
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One more final. Yas ....
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9 yrs ago
After Tuesday I'll be back to regular postings! Sorry for the delay folks. Finals are a killer bee </3
9 yrs ago
We'll fall asleep. So deeply out of reach
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9 yrs ago
In peace may you leave the shore. In love may you find the next. Safe passage on your travels until our final journey on the ground... May we meet again.
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Most Recent Posts
Just giving y'all an update. I haven't been able to garner anymore interest for this. Unless that somehow changes, I may label this roleplay as dead. As much as it pains me to do so.
Erin followed her partner into the shuttle as she took the seat almost directly behind the helms. An update had come in earlier this morning that they were given a brand new ship. The SSV Yorktown. The message had read that the two were suppose to command in tandem. Erin had no problem giving the bulk of that command to Iles. She seemed capable, if her rough exterior reflected her experience which wasn't always the case. Just give her the intelligence and espionage, and Erin would be content with just that. There was always things to do, and her world was hardly boring.
It wasn't until the shuttle took off that her partner finally said a word. She blinked as a wry smile crossed her lips. "Trust me when I say this," she said. "I've run into far ruder people than you. Lets just forget yesterday and focus on the mission, alright? Oh, and apology accepted."
The ship was beautiful. Erin stared at the SSV Yorktown as they came to dock. While it had the build of a stealth ship, the exterior had been outfitted akin to that of an Alliance dreadnought. Visual impression only of course. She had yet to read up on the beast though she doubt she'd understand the jargon more suited to an engineer.
They were lead to the commander's quarters when they stepped aboard. Erin noticed the partition separating her side of the room from Iles'. She had no problem with that and preferred it. Ever since the weapon's run on Torfan - when it was populated and not invaded by slavers - letting people into her quarters was a huge red flag. She'd probably kill them instead if they didn't have a legitimate reason to come by.
Erin was surprised when Iles took the smaller room. She supposed her hunches could be wrong at times. She nodded her thanks to the yeoman as she stepped in and got settled. It wasn't long before she heard a knock at her door and Iles walked in. "It's either that or sitting her bored. Lets get to it then, shall we?"
It wasn't until the shuttle took off that her partner finally said a word. She blinked as a wry smile crossed her lips. "Trust me when I say this," she said. "I've run into far ruder people than you. Lets just forget yesterday and focus on the mission, alright? Oh, and apology accepted."
The ship was beautiful. Erin stared at the SSV Yorktown as they came to dock. While it had the build of a stealth ship, the exterior had been outfitted akin to that of an Alliance dreadnought. Visual impression only of course. She had yet to read up on the beast though she doubt she'd understand the jargon more suited to an engineer.
They were lead to the commander's quarters when they stepped aboard. Erin noticed the partition separating her side of the room from Iles'. She had no problem with that and preferred it. Ever since the weapon's run on Torfan - when it was populated and not invaded by slavers - letting people into her quarters was a huge red flag. She'd probably kill them instead if they didn't have a legitimate reason to come by.
Erin was surprised when Iles took the smaller room. She supposed her hunches could be wrong at times. She nodded her thanks to the yeoman as she stepped in and got settled. It wasn't long before she heard a knock at her door and Iles walked in. "It's either that or sitting her bored. Lets get to it then, shall we?"
God if it crashed again, I'm sure there would be a virtual mob on our hands xD!
Thanks! I wasn't sure if it was too wordy or not, but it was necessary. Context needs to be set!
Thanks! I wasn't sure if it was too wordy or not, but it was necessary. Context needs to be set!
Not sure if this happened to you, but the Guild was down for me!
Anyways, there's the first post. Hope you like it ^^!
Anyways, there's the first post. Hope you like it ^^!
Irell Starling said
Should I begin drafting u the first post or is there something else you would like to talk about? I figure we can put up more CS as we get to those characters (as need be).
Hey, I don't know what happened, by the Guild was down for me. Anyways, I'm going to work on my second CS. I think we can go ahead and begin!
It was funny how things could change so quickly. Nicole walked the southern boundaries of Palo Alto, California with four others following behind her. When the New California Directorate was formed, she remembered Director Dumar preach about preserving the American democratic ideals when anarchy overcame their country when the lights went out. In the beginning it was exactly as he said. People were happy. Months later, though, everything changed. For better or for worse, Nicole couldn’t say. Safety through oppression she thought to herself.
Rounding a corner, Nicole signaled the four to stop as she looked around. Her grip on her rifle was far too tight. She knew. Never in her life did she ever dream about holding a gun. Why she was the biggest anti-gun advocate anyone could have ever met. Whenever the girls and her had time to kill when they were off their shift at the office, conversations led to politics, and politics eventually led to the heated topic of fire arms. How ironic that the Director allocated her to the NCD Sentinels. She considered herself lucky that it wasn’t to the Regulars instead.
As if the world wasn’t already majorly screwed, Dumar was hellbent on recreating a fantasy empire. Men and women were all forced conscripted with regards to their age, past experience, and health. The Regulars were vanguard force that led the NCD’s vision of expansion. Multiple skirmishes with the old government and other new nations had circulated within the population. The propaganda painted the tale of victor and glory while the regulars who made it back told a different story. While dissent was there, Dumar had a way with words. He could make the most rebellious fall in line with the promise of peace through militaristic victory. That kept the conscript lines full and brought out the fanatical devotion soldiers carried with them on the battlefield.
On the flip side, the NCD borders were heavily patrolled by the Sentinels, the group she was given. Lightly outfitted compared to the regulars, the sentinel’s acted as a shield to repel invaders and keep non-NCD citizens out. She hated the job, but it kept her tokens coming.
“What’s wrong?” One of the sentinels walked up to her, his face shrouded by a balaclava. “See something?”
She wasn’t sure why she stopped. Nicole kept staring straight ahead. There was an abandoned building — a food mart of some type. She swore she saw something in there.
“We’re still well within the border,” said the sentinel. “Should I send a runner to South?”
Nicole shook her head. She tilted her refurbished helmet up. The military vest — dyed black and red — seemed to constrict her chest as her long sleeves felt suffocating. Why was she so tense?
“First Sentinel?”
“Se—“
The echoing blast from a discharged fire arm shook her to the core. On instinct, Nicole dove to the nearest wall. One of the sentinels was dragging back another was the woman wailed from the wound. She was bleeding fast. She peeked around the corner. Dark silhouettes moved within the very building she was eyeing before.
“Second!” The soldier who had suggested a runner before looked at her. “Grocery store! I see two!”
“Another three to the left side,” he said. “I’ve got eyes on them!”
Bullets pelted into the wall forcing Nicole to break away. How the hell did they get so far in without a report? Which faction were they from?
Leaning to the side, she sighted with her rifle and squeezed the trigger. The weapon jumped in her hands as the recoil pushed back against her shoulder. The damn thing had a kick. She heard yells come from the store’s location as she saw targets drop. Richter, her second, was always the dead eye when it counted.
As the skirmish drew on, footsteps bounded towards her. Nicole turned her weapon in their direction. A group dressed in black and maroon fatigues held up the Sentinel and Regular’s sign of allies. She pointed her weapon down as the masked figures came to stop by her. Several fanned out, but the CO stayed with her.
“Report.”
“Five confirmed targets in the store straight ahead. Two counted pegged.”
The Legate nodded as he signaled his team. They gave signs of acknowledgement as they opened fire. Slowly, they began to move up.
“Have your team secure the rear and flanks,” said the Regular as he stood up. “We’ll clean out the trash.”
—
It hadn’t taken long for the threat to be subdued. The regulars milled about as Nicole stood over her injured cohort member. A bullet had entered the woman’s abdomen. It was a grim wound, but she’d live, for now at least. Richter stood to the side as he talked to the fourth member who leaned against the wall. That expression. It was shell shock.
“First Sentinel.” Nicole turned around as the legate walked over. “My team will take over from here. The borders have been notified. We found the area patrol. They were executed with the knife. Bad way to go.”
“Did you find out the faction responsible for this?”
“People’s Republic of Arkadia. How the hell did they get behind the expeditionary force?”
She wondered the same thing. How had they snuck behind the front? Also, why were the regulars here?
“Your squad heading to the lines?”
“The Communists have fight it seems.”
“So it does.” She looked down as a makeshift stretcher had been fashioned by Richter and the other sentinel. Finally doing something useful she thought. “I’m pulling my patrol back to South. Have a message? Least I can do.”
The Legate shook his head. “Just report this. More sentinel patrols in this area. The last thing the front needs is an attack from behind. You handle a rifle well.”
The two saluted one another as the regulars began their sombre march to what may very well be their death. A pity that Dumar couldn’t co-exist and preferred subjugation instead, and she was a part of the means to that end.
“Second, get the stretcher. It’s time to go home.”
Richter nodded. Slowly, the four made their way back to the Southern Zone Command Hub. It was a silent walk back.
—
Nicole had changed into civilian clothes as she walked into the ration center nearest her quarters. Being well into the evening, folks were already calling it a night. The chefs waved to her as she waved back. Old man Horace. Though his hair was a hodgepodge of brown and grey, his eyes twinkled in blueish glee. He used to be a college professor, agriculture to be exact. From the life of teaching college students, he had been shafted to this job. If he was miffed by it, he hid it well.
“Alright Horace?”
“I was beginning to clean for the night, but then your pretty face showed up,” he said leaning against the polished silver serving table. “Not much of a choice presently. Got some left over stew and some bread. Interested?”
“Meat?”
“Yes ma’am?”
Nicole reached into her pocket, taking out her pouch of tokens. “Can’t be cheap then.”
Horace grunted as he swooped down and grabbed a bowl. “Discount for you — try not to tell the Se— Oh …”
“I don’t want to get us in trouble with my branch,” she said. “So…?”
“Ten tokens.”
“Christ,” Nicole said as she placed ten tokens on the table. “Any chance of warming it up?”
Horace grimaced as he pushed the bowl and bread towards her. “Water’s over there. Feel free to have at it.”
She took her things as she stopped to get a water before sitting at a table in the corner. She tucked in, observing the room between bites. Even in Central — the safest place in the NCD — she was ill at ease. She laughed. If only dad could see her now. His little princess who was studying medicine turned into a soldier. The irony of it all.
Rounding a corner, Nicole signaled the four to stop as she looked around. Her grip on her rifle was far too tight. She knew. Never in her life did she ever dream about holding a gun. Why she was the biggest anti-gun advocate anyone could have ever met. Whenever the girls and her had time to kill when they were off their shift at the office, conversations led to politics, and politics eventually led to the heated topic of fire arms. How ironic that the Director allocated her to the NCD Sentinels. She considered herself lucky that it wasn’t to the Regulars instead.
As if the world wasn’t already majorly screwed, Dumar was hellbent on recreating a fantasy empire. Men and women were all forced conscripted with regards to their age, past experience, and health. The Regulars were vanguard force that led the NCD’s vision of expansion. Multiple skirmishes with the old government and other new nations had circulated within the population. The propaganda painted the tale of victor and glory while the regulars who made it back told a different story. While dissent was there, Dumar had a way with words. He could make the most rebellious fall in line with the promise of peace through militaristic victory. That kept the conscript lines full and brought out the fanatical devotion soldiers carried with them on the battlefield.
On the flip side, the NCD borders were heavily patrolled by the Sentinels, the group she was given. Lightly outfitted compared to the regulars, the sentinel’s acted as a shield to repel invaders and keep non-NCD citizens out. She hated the job, but it kept her tokens coming.
“What’s wrong?” One of the sentinels walked up to her, his face shrouded by a balaclava. “See something?”
She wasn’t sure why she stopped. Nicole kept staring straight ahead. There was an abandoned building — a food mart of some type. She swore she saw something in there.
“We’re still well within the border,” said the sentinel. “Should I send a runner to South?”
Nicole shook her head. She tilted her refurbished helmet up. The military vest — dyed black and red — seemed to constrict her chest as her long sleeves felt suffocating. Why was she so tense?
“First Sentinel?”
“Se—“
The echoing blast from a discharged fire arm shook her to the core. On instinct, Nicole dove to the nearest wall. One of the sentinels was dragging back another was the woman wailed from the wound. She was bleeding fast. She peeked around the corner. Dark silhouettes moved within the very building she was eyeing before.
“Second!” The soldier who had suggested a runner before looked at her. “Grocery store! I see two!”
“Another three to the left side,” he said. “I’ve got eyes on them!”
Bullets pelted into the wall forcing Nicole to break away. How the hell did they get so far in without a report? Which faction were they from?
Leaning to the side, she sighted with her rifle and squeezed the trigger. The weapon jumped in her hands as the recoil pushed back against her shoulder. The damn thing had a kick. She heard yells come from the store’s location as she saw targets drop. Richter, her second, was always the dead eye when it counted.
As the skirmish drew on, footsteps bounded towards her. Nicole turned her weapon in their direction. A group dressed in black and maroon fatigues held up the Sentinel and Regular’s sign of allies. She pointed her weapon down as the masked figures came to stop by her. Several fanned out, but the CO stayed with her.
“Report.”
“Five confirmed targets in the store straight ahead. Two counted pegged.”
The Legate nodded as he signaled his team. They gave signs of acknowledgement as they opened fire. Slowly, they began to move up.
“Have your team secure the rear and flanks,” said the Regular as he stood up. “We’ll clean out the trash.”
—
It hadn’t taken long for the threat to be subdued. The regulars milled about as Nicole stood over her injured cohort member. A bullet had entered the woman’s abdomen. It was a grim wound, but she’d live, for now at least. Richter stood to the side as he talked to the fourth member who leaned against the wall. That expression. It was shell shock.
“First Sentinel.” Nicole turned around as the legate walked over. “My team will take over from here. The borders have been notified. We found the area patrol. They were executed with the knife. Bad way to go.”
“Did you find out the faction responsible for this?”
“People’s Republic of Arkadia. How the hell did they get behind the expeditionary force?”
She wondered the same thing. How had they snuck behind the front? Also, why were the regulars here?
“Your squad heading to the lines?”
“The Communists have fight it seems.”
“So it does.” She looked down as a makeshift stretcher had been fashioned by Richter and the other sentinel. Finally doing something useful she thought. “I’m pulling my patrol back to South. Have a message? Least I can do.”
The Legate shook his head. “Just report this. More sentinel patrols in this area. The last thing the front needs is an attack from behind. You handle a rifle well.”
The two saluted one another as the regulars began their sombre march to what may very well be their death. A pity that Dumar couldn’t co-exist and preferred subjugation instead, and she was a part of the means to that end.
“Second, get the stretcher. It’s time to go home.”
Richter nodded. Slowly, the four made their way back to the Southern Zone Command Hub. It was a silent walk back.
—
Nicole had changed into civilian clothes as she walked into the ration center nearest her quarters. Being well into the evening, folks were already calling it a night. The chefs waved to her as she waved back. Old man Horace. Though his hair was a hodgepodge of brown and grey, his eyes twinkled in blueish glee. He used to be a college professor, agriculture to be exact. From the life of teaching college students, he had been shafted to this job. If he was miffed by it, he hid it well.
“Alright Horace?”
“I was beginning to clean for the night, but then your pretty face showed up,” he said leaning against the polished silver serving table. “Not much of a choice presently. Got some left over stew and some bread. Interested?”
“Meat?”
“Yes ma’am?”
Nicole reached into her pocket, taking out her pouch of tokens. “Can’t be cheap then.”
Horace grunted as he swooped down and grabbed a bowl. “Discount for you — try not to tell the Se— Oh …”
“I don’t want to get us in trouble with my branch,” she said. “So…?”
“Ten tokens.”
“Christ,” Nicole said as she placed ten tokens on the table. “Any chance of warming it up?”
Horace grimaced as he pushed the bowl and bread towards her. “Water’s over there. Feel free to have at it.”
She took her things as she stopped to get a water before sitting at a table in the corner. She tucked in, observing the room between bites. Even in Central — the safest place in the NCD — she was ill at ease. She laughed. If only dad could see her now. His little princess who was studying medicine turned into a soldier. The irony of it all.
Irell Starling said
My character's background tend to be short. I promise I will go into more detail as the story progresses.
I do the same thing! I always find it much easier to develop backstory within the actual story itself. Sometimes my back story changes and is no loner the biography I wrote on the CS. Thus, I don't typically write a bios.
"The people are like cattle. We the shepherds. We keep out the wolves, demanding obedience in return."
Name: Kolton Armus Salodis
Age: 25
Occupation: Delegate of Erimeade
Alignment: Lawful Evil
Personality: Kolton's reputation is infamous from the province that he controls and represents. While he straddles the fine line of benevolence and tyrant, his ruthless means of asserting his control and silencing those that would threaten his province has caused many to be weary of him. His relatives are not exempt from this. An immense amount of thought goes into everything he does, for everything must run accordingly lest order be broken.
Bios: Born into the royal family within his province, it was at a young age where Kolton demanded power and respect. His father encouraged the competition amongst his brothers and him as the oldest - unlike other provinces - didn't automatically inherit the throne. Instead, the ruler of that province evaluated and announced his heir based on who was more competent. With this known, Kolton resorted to any means necessary to secure his rightful spot. On his seventh birthday, he successfully poisoned his brother's evening meal. The blame was shifted to a peasant; the prince came out unblemished from the matter.
Soon rising or exceeding his father's expectations, he was selected to represent his province at the Erimeade Delegation. With his future all but secured, Kolton still seeks ways to rise. His ambition lies beyond the seat of power of one province. Enamored by the books of old, he dreamt of recreating the great empire that existed before the current Erimeade.
She'll do just fine! Hope you like my charrie. I'll hopefully get started on the IC soon. Its been a busy few days ^^"
Name: Nicole Amberlin
Age: 24
Appearance:
Name: Nicole Amberlin
Age: 24
Appearance:
This storyline is for Anima & Love Dove.
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