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Just here to have a good time.
Most Recent Posts
In
Shattered Steel - An Ace Combat/Project Wingman/etc inspired aircraft-based RP
→
3 mos ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
In
Shattered Steel - An Ace Combat/Project Wingman/etc inspired aircraft-based RP
→
3 mos ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
Name:
Ayvee Reagan
Callsign/Nickname:
Stingray
Age:
26
Gender:
Female
Appearance:
Nationality:
North America, ashes of the US.
Personality:
Ayvee Reagan is the epitome of cool under pressure. Despite the high-stakes nature of her job, she maintains an effortlessly laid-back demeanor, rarely flustered even in the most intense dogfights. Her calm, collected attitude isn't just for show; it's a crucial part of her approach to flying. With a sharp wit and a steady hand, Ayvee navigates both the skies and the camaraderie of her squadron with a relaxed grace, making her both a formidable pilot and a beloved teammate. A good mix of a friendly attitude and a professional demeanor.
History:
Ayvee Reagan's upbringing was steeped in privilege and influence as the only child of a prominent politician whose decisions shaped the nation's fabric. Growing up in an environment of high society and political power, Ayvee was surrounded by opulence, from grand estates to exclusive events. Yet, amidst the grandeur, she felt disconnected from the world her father navigated. It was her uncle's own fascination with aviation that kindled her passion for flying. While her peers were immersed in political debates, Ayvee found solace in the thrill of flight, often accompanying her father on private jets and developing a deep-seated love for the sky.
Determined to forge her identity, Ayvee excelled at a prestigious military academy, where her exceptional skills as a pilot quickly set her apart. Her calm demeanor and innate talent earned her a place in a high-end Air Force squadron. Yet, her success in the military only deepened her dissatisfaction with the expectations of her privileged background. Her father saw her success as another tool to levy for political favor. Ayvee's desire to defy her father's political world became a driving force. She felt increasingly constrained by the rigid structures and expectations imposed by her family and the military hierarchy.
In a bold move to assert her independence, Ayvee left the Air Force and transitioned into the role of a mercenary pilot. This new path gave her the autonomy she craved and a chance to distance herself from her family's political shadow. Embracing the freedom and flexibility of mercenary work, she found a renewed sense of purpose and exhilaration in high-risk missions. Ayvee's choice to become a mercenary was as much about personal rebellion as it was about pursuing her passion for flying, allowing her to chart her own course and thrive in the skies on her own terms.
Despite leaving her family behind, she does deeply miss them. Her father is a greedy, ruthless politician who still loved his daughter very much. Her mother may have been distant and uncaring, but she had become softer and more personable in her later years. As the years marched on and her work grew with mercenary flying, Ayvee increasingly regretted severing her ties with her family. Perhaps one day soon, she will reconnect with them.
Personal Gear:
Personal picture of her family, an FN-Five-Seven pistol, pair of old aviators, a VERY expensive bottle of fine scotch, and a box of her old trapping from when she was in the academy.
Personal Aircraft:
The F-117N Seahawk
nationalinterest.org/blog/reboot/when…
The F-117N "Seahawk" was Lockheed's proposal to the US Navy for a naval version of the successful early 5th generation "fighter" F-117 Nighthawk. After an initial rejection outright, Lockheed proposed a heavily modified design, one that had more powerful engines, redesigned wings that allowed for safer stability during slow-flight carrier landings, and, most importantly, the ability to carry a wider variety of munitions, including air to air missiles—turning the practical stealth bomber into an actual fighter aircraft.
As it stands, the current figures are so:
-(Optional) Four external pylons for munitions
-Two extended internal bays, capable of storing two air-to-air IRST or radar-guided missiles such as the AIM-120D per bay for a total of four missiles along with various AGM weapons depending on the chosen loadout.
-A duel purpose air-to-air and air-to-ground radar
-Radar-absorbing paint
-Radar deflecting airframe
-Two more powerful F114 engines (the same ones found in the Super Hornet) allow for higher top speeds and acceleration capabilities over its USAF sibling.
Aircraft modifications:
-A center-mounted pylon capable of carrying a 20mm rotary cannon gun pod or ECM pod for radar jamming/SAM hunting
-A slightly expanded crew compartment for personal storage
-A gaudy shark-face design on the nose and a stingray painted on the tail
Anything Else:
youtube.com/watch?v=vM7O_PmXpZQ&ab_ch…
In
Shattered Steel - An Ace Combat/Project Wingman/etc inspired aircraft-based RP
→
3 mos ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
I love her, she looks fantastic and really cute too; excellent choice of plane as well! That's exactly the kind of 'never was' proposed/prototype plane I envisioned for the setting
Enthusiastically approved, please post her in the characters tab.
lol thanks. She's someone's OC, but sadly, I haven't been able to find the artist in a while. I remember seeing them on Twitter a while ago, so if anyone does see her, lemme know! I will post it in the CS tab.
In
Shattered Steel - An Ace Combat/Project Wingman/etc inspired aircraft-based RP
→
3 mos ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
Alright, here is my character! @Rhona W
Name:
Ayvee Reagan
Callsign/Nickname:
Stingray
Age:
26
Gender:
Female
Appearance:
Nationality:
North America, ashes of the US.
Personality:
Ayvee Reagan is the epitome of cool under pressure. Despite the high-stakes nature of her job, she maintains an effortlessly laid-back demeanor, rarely flustered even in the most intense dogfights. Her calm, collected attitude isn't just for show; it's a crucial part of her approach to flying. With a sharp wit and a steady hand, Ayvee navigates both the skies and the camaraderie of her squadron with a relaxed grace, making her both a formidable pilot and a beloved teammate. A good mix of a friendly attitude and a professional demeanor.
History:
Ayvee Reagan's upbringing was steeped in privilege and influence as the only child of a prominent politician whose decisions shaped the nation's fabric. Growing up in an environment of high society and political power, Ayvee was surrounded by opulence, from grand estates to exclusive events. Yet, amidst the grandeur, she felt disconnected from the world her father navigated. It was her uncle's own fascination with aviation that kindled her passion for flying. While her peers were immersed in political debates, Ayvee found solace in the thrill of flight, often accompanying her father on private jets and developing a deep-seated love for the sky.
Determined to forge her identity, Ayvee excelled at a prestigious military academy, where her exceptional skills as a pilot quickly set her apart. Her calm demeanor and innate talent earned her a place in a high-end Air Force squadron. Yet, her success in the military only deepened her dissatisfaction with the expectations of her privileged background. Her father saw her success as another tool to levy for political favor. Ayvee's desire to defy her father's political world became a driving force. She felt increasingly constrained by the rigid structures and expectations imposed by her family and the military hierarchy.
In a bold move to assert her independence, Ayvee left the Air Force and transitioned into the role of a mercenary pilot. This new path gave her the autonomy she craved and a chance to distance herself from her family's political shadow. Embracing the freedom and flexibility of mercenary work, she found a renewed sense of purpose and exhilaration in high-risk missions. Ayvee's choice to become a mercenary was as much about personal rebellion as it was about pursuing her passion for flying, allowing her to chart her own course and thrive in the skies on her own terms.
Despite leaving her family behind, she does deeply miss them. Her father is a greedy, ruthless politician who still loved his daughter very much. Her mother may have been distant and uncaring, but she had become softer and more personable in her later years. As the years marched on and her work grew with mercenary flying, Ayvee increasingly regretted severing her ties with her family. Perhaps one day soon, she will reconnect with them.
Personal Gear:
Personal picture of her family, an FN-Five-Seven pistol, pair of old aviators, a VERY expensive bottle of fine scotch, and a box of her old trapping from when she was in the academy.
Personal Aircraft:
The F-117N Seahawk
nationalinterest.org/blog/reboot/when…
The F-117N "Seahawk" was Lockheed's proposal to the US Navy for a naval version of the successful early 5th generation "fighter" F-117 Nighthawk. After an initial rejection outright, Lockheed proposed a heavily modified design, one that had more powerful engines, redesigned wings that allowed for safer stability during slow-flight carrier landings, and, most importantly, the ability to carry a wider variety of munitions, including air to air missiles—turning the practical stealth bomber into an actual fighter aircraft.
As it stands, the current figures are so:
-(Optional) Four external pylons for munitions
-Two extended internal bays, capable of storing two air-to-air IRST or radar-guided missiles such as the AIM-120D per bay for a total of four missiles along with various AGM weapons depending on the chosen loadout.
-A duel purpose air-to-air and air-to-ground radar
-Radar-absorbing paint
-Radar deflecting airframe
-Two more powerful F114 engines (the same ones found in the Super Hornet) allow for higher top speeds and acceleration capabilities over its USAF sibling.
Aircraft modifications:
-A center-mounted pylon capable of carrying a 20mm rotary cannon gun pod or ECM pod for radar jamming/SAM hunting
-A slightly expanded crew compartment for personal storage
-A gaudy shark-face design on the nose and a stingray painted on the tail
Anything Else:
youtube.com/watch?v=vM7O_PmXpZQ&ab_ch…
Name:
Ayvee Reagan
Callsign/Nickname:
Stingray
Age:
26
Gender:
Female
Appearance:
Nationality:
North America, ashes of the US.
Personality:
Ayvee Reagan is the epitome of cool under pressure. Despite the high-stakes nature of her job, she maintains an effortlessly laid-back demeanor, rarely flustered even in the most intense dogfights. Her calm, collected attitude isn't just for show; it's a crucial part of her approach to flying. With a sharp wit and a steady hand, Ayvee navigates both the skies and the camaraderie of her squadron with a relaxed grace, making her both a formidable pilot and a beloved teammate. A good mix of a friendly attitude and a professional demeanor.
History:
Ayvee Reagan's upbringing was steeped in privilege and influence as the only child of a prominent politician whose decisions shaped the nation's fabric. Growing up in an environment of high society and political power, Ayvee was surrounded by opulence, from grand estates to exclusive events. Yet, amidst the grandeur, she felt disconnected from the world her father navigated. It was her uncle's own fascination with aviation that kindled her passion for flying. While her peers were immersed in political debates, Ayvee found solace in the thrill of flight, often accompanying her father on private jets and developing a deep-seated love for the sky.
Determined to forge her identity, Ayvee excelled at a prestigious military academy, where her exceptional skills as a pilot quickly set her apart. Her calm demeanor and innate talent earned her a place in a high-end Air Force squadron. Yet, her success in the military only deepened her dissatisfaction with the expectations of her privileged background. Her father saw her success as another tool to levy for political favor. Ayvee's desire to defy her father's political world became a driving force. She felt increasingly constrained by the rigid structures and expectations imposed by her family and the military hierarchy.
In a bold move to assert her independence, Ayvee left the Air Force and transitioned into the role of a mercenary pilot. This new path gave her the autonomy she craved and a chance to distance herself from her family's political shadow. Embracing the freedom and flexibility of mercenary work, she found a renewed sense of purpose and exhilaration in high-risk missions. Ayvee's choice to become a mercenary was as much about personal rebellion as it was about pursuing her passion for flying, allowing her to chart her own course and thrive in the skies on her own terms.
Despite leaving her family behind, she does deeply miss them. Her father is a greedy, ruthless politician who still loved his daughter very much. Her mother may have been distant and uncaring, but she had become softer and more personable in her later years. As the years marched on and her work grew with mercenary flying, Ayvee increasingly regretted severing her ties with her family. Perhaps one day soon, she will reconnect with them.
Personal Gear:
Personal picture of her family, an FN-Five-Seven pistol, pair of old aviators, a VERY expensive bottle of fine scotch, and a box of her old trapping from when she was in the academy.
Personal Aircraft:
The F-117N Seahawk
nationalinterest.org/blog/reboot/when…
The F-117N "Seahawk" was Lockheed's proposal to the US Navy for a naval version of the successful early 5th generation "fighter" F-117 Nighthawk. After an initial rejection outright, Lockheed proposed a heavily modified design, one that had more powerful engines, redesigned wings that allowed for safer stability during slow-flight carrier landings, and, most importantly, the ability to carry a wider variety of munitions, including air to air missiles—turning the practical stealth bomber into an actual fighter aircraft.
As it stands, the current figures are so:
-(Optional) Four external pylons for munitions
-Two extended internal bays, capable of storing two air-to-air IRST or radar-guided missiles such as the AIM-120D per bay for a total of four missiles along with various AGM weapons depending on the chosen loadout.
-A duel purpose air-to-air and air-to-ground radar
-Radar-absorbing paint
-Radar deflecting airframe
-Two more powerful F114 engines (the same ones found in the Super Hornet) allow for higher top speeds and acceleration capabilities over its USAF sibling.
Aircraft modifications:
-A center-mounted pylon capable of carrying a 20mm rotary cannon gun pod or ECM pod for radar jamming/SAM hunting
-A slightly expanded crew compartment for personal storage
-A gaudy shark-face design on the nose and a stingray painted on the tail
Anything Else:
youtube.com/watch?v=vM7O_PmXpZQ&ab_ch…
In
Shattered Steel - An Ace Combat/Project Wingman/etc inspired aircraft-based RP
→
3 mos ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
Yes, I should have a character sheet up shortly.
Alright, first IC post made! Apologies for any rough grammar. Been awhile since I have been back in the game. Let me know if I need to change anything as I get back into the swing of things.
Three weeks ago...
Deep within the wilderness, a loud, almost wet thud rang through the trees. A lone stone coffin lay upright and ajar, its occupant stumbling out to her knees, hacking and coughing.
"Where... where am I?" Alison thought as she slowly picked herself off the ground. The world spun slightly, and she felt aches throughout her body. She needed to sit down. Thinking for a moment, she struggled to recall the past 24 hours.
"I was... leaving the Pentagon after watching the op... that's right!" She stood up suddenly as the memories came back slowly. "That's right, the op! So wait, why am I in a forest? Okay, if the op was a success, I would have celebrated with the team and probably blacked out." She paused momentarily, patting herself down and looking about her surroundings. "But this isn't the Mall, and I woke up sober. I feel like I got into a fight... Which means the op was a failure, and I probably went down to Harry's. That bitch from Homeland Security must have set me off. But again... I woke up sober. Something is not right. Something is..." Memories of her drive, the impact, the pain, the pavement, suddenly began to form in her mind.
"... wrong."
Three weeks later...
The guild's air was thick with alcohol and tension. The siege has put everyone on edge, even the criminal underground. After the recent jubilations and defiant celebrations, the crews of the guild and its patrons started to come back to reality. Alison nursed her ale slowly, sick of its flavor. Since arriving in this strange land, she had begun to miss many of the modern trappings of her previous life. All the alcohol here was watered down to hell, showers were a joke, and cigarettes a mere fantasy. Not even in the far-flung mountains of Afghanistan or the humid hells of Columbia did she feel such nostalgia for the modern amenities. Maybe it's because of why she was here. At least in those remote lands, there was still the chance of coming home.
"Heyo boss, what gotcha lookin' all down like?" Pete said, taking a seat across from her. "Haven't seen ya this down since the Library job. What, the siege gettin' to ya that bad?"
"Nah, just... thinking about home. Nothing fun worth sharing." Alison responded before taking a long pull. She grimaced at the mug for the eighth time that day as Pete chuckled. "Nothing I can change. At least not yet... You have something to report?"
"Yeah, there might be something comin up for us soon. Real easy like, nothin like that previous shiat. No soul sukin tomes to steal all that. Word is there's gonna be some big movements before that barrier goin down. But look, that's stuff for the Guildmaster to go over there. Not my place and all that." He said with a gap-tooth grin. Since Alison met him, Pete always liked to play these sorts of games. He even lost a few of those teeth from her because of that, but he's since learned how far to tease her with information. He always liked to lord information over her before he was inevitably forced to cough it up.
Alison leaned back and yawned but noticed Pete still grinning at her. "What, you got something else to tell me? Spill it, stop showing me that poor dental work."
"Well, I got even better news that might perk ya right up. Remember when we first met? Before you started dressing like a proper cut-throat and was wearing thems weird clothes and whatnot?" At this, Alison did perk up, staring more intently at Pete.
"I do. Why?" she said, the casual tone gone from her voice.
"Well, as it turns out, that party ovf adventures, "Second Chance"? Well, I thinks they might be a lot likes you. Here tell they fell from the sky in stone coffins out in the village of Hommas. Bouts around a few days before you stumbled in town. They all talks like they not from around here and certainly act the part they do. They got some strange abilities, nothin nobody's eva seen. Kinda like the cloak of yours ya never lose. So that got my dumb ehd think right? Who do I know that's a lots like em?" He pointed at Alison. "Seems like I found you a piece to that big ole puzzle of yours."
Alison rested her head in one hand, thinking. This was big news. Pete put on an act, as Alison had come to learn. The dumb commoner, an unassuming goon to ruffle people up in an alley for pocket change. But she'd see a deliberate, sharp wit under that mask when they started working together. One that didn't miss a single detail and kept an ironclad memory...
And someone loyal.
"So those guys that were made Captains? Like the one that came in here and celebrated not too long ago? They're the ones?" Alison said, head still resting in her hand.
"The very same! Small world we all livin in, eh? But listen, that's just what I'm figuring. I'm pretty damn sure of it, but you'll get a chance to ask em yourself. One em, an archer lady, will be using the grounds this evenin back behind the building. Ask er yourself boss and see if it's true." He said, taking a sip from his ale. Alison leaned back and kicked her feet up on the table, staring at the ceiling.
Finally, meeting someone who might answer her about what was happening would be a relief. Alison was someone who needed a purpose, a core goal, an objective to carry her through the day-to-day. It's what kept her grounded and sane in her previous job. Protect your country, protect your team, and take down the threats. Ever since the day she first woke up in this world, she had felt almost like she had been on autopilot. She could apply her tools, knowledge, and trade and keep herself above water, but it felt like it served no great purpose, nothing bigger than herself.
The only thing that kept her going was, oddly, spite. She wanted, no, demanded to know why she had been brought here. Why had her death forced her into this magical, medieval land where reality itself can be ripped to shreds at a moment's notice? If what Pete was saying was right, and if there was not only one but a whole group of people in the same boat as her, then they may know more about what's going on, or at least could put their heads together. With a long sigh, she returned to her drink. At the very least, getting into the good graces of such a rising group of stars would probably pay big dividends.
Later that evening...
Alison and Pete stared at the entrance to the guild. This time, she nursed a cup of mud-like coffee. A little reward for a job well done in the week prior. She watched as a young woman entered with flowing blond hair, blue eyes, and a crossbow on her hip.
"That's the one boss. Awfully pretty, ain't she? Better sight than your depressing self." Pete whispered with a wry grin. Alison gave a small nod, not even rising to the jab, as her gaze was fixed on the individual. The woman approached that grumpy old fart Septimus. He acted his usual self and led her back to the training field.
Once they left for the back, she got up from her seat and followed them out to the back. She quietly took a spot against the wall and as she did so, she caught the archer's name. "MacKensie Trydant... That's an odd name. That accent is French, but that name certainly isn't." Alison thought to herself as she watched the training proceed.
After it was concluded, Alison gave a small clap, drawing attention to herself finally. "Well, that was certainly a show there! The rumors weren't kidding about the Second Chance folk. But honestly..." she shrugged. "I'm not here to see the fancy shooting skills. MacKensie, right? You're not from around here, are you? Or I guess I should say, from this world." Alison said, cutting straight to the point.
It was finally time she got some answers.
@Zool
Deep within the wilderness, a loud, almost wet thud rang through the trees. A lone stone coffin lay upright and ajar, its occupant stumbling out to her knees, hacking and coughing.
"Where... where am I?" Alison thought as she slowly picked herself off the ground. The world spun slightly, and she felt aches throughout her body. She needed to sit down. Thinking for a moment, she struggled to recall the past 24 hours.
"I was... leaving the Pentagon after watching the op... that's right!" She stood up suddenly as the memories came back slowly. "That's right, the op! So wait, why am I in a forest? Okay, if the op was a success, I would have celebrated with the team and probably blacked out." She paused momentarily, patting herself down and looking about her surroundings. "But this isn't the Mall, and I woke up sober. I feel like I got into a fight... Which means the op was a failure, and I probably went down to Harry's. That bitch from Homeland Security must have set me off. But again... I woke up sober. Something is not right. Something is..." Memories of her drive, the impact, the pain, the pavement, suddenly began to form in her mind.
"... wrong."
Three weeks later...
The guild's air was thick with alcohol and tension. The siege has put everyone on edge, even the criminal underground. After the recent jubilations and defiant celebrations, the crews of the guild and its patrons started to come back to reality. Alison nursed her ale slowly, sick of its flavor. Since arriving in this strange land, she had begun to miss many of the modern trappings of her previous life. All the alcohol here was watered down to hell, showers were a joke, and cigarettes a mere fantasy. Not even in the far-flung mountains of Afghanistan or the humid hells of Columbia did she feel such nostalgia for the modern amenities. Maybe it's because of why she was here. At least in those remote lands, there was still the chance of coming home.
"Heyo boss, what gotcha lookin' all down like?" Pete said, taking a seat across from her. "Haven't seen ya this down since the Library job. What, the siege gettin' to ya that bad?"
"Nah, just... thinking about home. Nothing fun worth sharing." Alison responded before taking a long pull. She grimaced at the mug for the eighth time that day as Pete chuckled. "Nothing I can change. At least not yet... You have something to report?"
"Yeah, there might be something comin up for us soon. Real easy like, nothin like that previous shiat. No soul sukin tomes to steal all that. Word is there's gonna be some big movements before that barrier goin down. But look, that's stuff for the Guildmaster to go over there. Not my place and all that." He said with a gap-tooth grin. Since Alison met him, Pete always liked to play these sorts of games. He even lost a few of those teeth from her because of that, but he's since learned how far to tease her with information. He always liked to lord information over her before he was inevitably forced to cough it up.
Alison leaned back and yawned but noticed Pete still grinning at her. "What, you got something else to tell me? Spill it, stop showing me that poor dental work."
"Well, I got even better news that might perk ya right up. Remember when we first met? Before you started dressing like a proper cut-throat and was wearing thems weird clothes and whatnot?" At this, Alison did perk up, staring more intently at Pete.
"I do. Why?" she said, the casual tone gone from her voice.
"Well, as it turns out, that party ovf adventures, "Second Chance"? Well, I thinks they might be a lot likes you. Here tell they fell from the sky in stone coffins out in the village of Hommas. Bouts around a few days before you stumbled in town. They all talks like they not from around here and certainly act the part they do. They got some strange abilities, nothin nobody's eva seen. Kinda like the cloak of yours ya never lose. So that got my dumb ehd think right? Who do I know that's a lots like em?" He pointed at Alison. "Seems like I found you a piece to that big ole puzzle of yours."
Alison rested her head in one hand, thinking. This was big news. Pete put on an act, as Alison had come to learn. The dumb commoner, an unassuming goon to ruffle people up in an alley for pocket change. But she'd see a deliberate, sharp wit under that mask when they started working together. One that didn't miss a single detail and kept an ironclad memory...
And someone loyal.
"So those guys that were made Captains? Like the one that came in here and celebrated not too long ago? They're the ones?" Alison said, head still resting in her hand.
"The very same! Small world we all livin in, eh? But listen, that's just what I'm figuring. I'm pretty damn sure of it, but you'll get a chance to ask em yourself. One em, an archer lady, will be using the grounds this evenin back behind the building. Ask er yourself boss and see if it's true." He said, taking a sip from his ale. Alison leaned back and kicked her feet up on the table, staring at the ceiling.
Finally, meeting someone who might answer her about what was happening would be a relief. Alison was someone who needed a purpose, a core goal, an objective to carry her through the day-to-day. It's what kept her grounded and sane in her previous job. Protect your country, protect your team, and take down the threats. Ever since the day she first woke up in this world, she had felt almost like she had been on autopilot. She could apply her tools, knowledge, and trade and keep herself above water, but it felt like it served no great purpose, nothing bigger than herself.
The only thing that kept her going was, oddly, spite. She wanted, no, demanded to know why she had been brought here. Why had her death forced her into this magical, medieval land where reality itself can be ripped to shreds at a moment's notice? If what Pete was saying was right, and if there was not only one but a whole group of people in the same boat as her, then they may know more about what's going on, or at least could put their heads together. With a long sigh, she returned to her drink. At the very least, getting into the good graces of such a rising group of stars would probably pay big dividends.
Later that evening...
Alison and Pete stared at the entrance to the guild. This time, she nursed a cup of mud-like coffee. A little reward for a job well done in the week prior. She watched as a young woman entered with flowing blond hair, blue eyes, and a crossbow on her hip.
"That's the one boss. Awfully pretty, ain't she? Better sight than your depressing self." Pete whispered with a wry grin. Alison gave a small nod, not even rising to the jab, as her gaze was fixed on the individual. The woman approached that grumpy old fart Septimus. He acted his usual self and led her back to the training field.
Once they left for the back, she got up from her seat and followed them out to the back. She quietly took a spot against the wall and as she did so, she caught the archer's name. "MacKensie Trydant... That's an odd name. That accent is French, but that name certainly isn't." Alison thought to herself as she watched the training proceed.
After it was concluded, Alison gave a small clap, drawing attention to herself finally. "Well, that was certainly a show there! The rumors weren't kidding about the Second Chance folk. But honestly..." she shrugged. "I'm not here to see the fancy shooting skills. MacKensie, right? You're not from around here, are you? Or I guess I should say, from this world." Alison said, cutting straight to the point.
It was finally time she got some answers.
@Zool
Alright, here is my character! I will be making an introductory post shortly. Hope you all like your new spook edition!
-
Name:
Alison Walker(?)
Age:
35
Country on Earth:
United States of America
Appearance:
Stands around 5'8, lean build. Typically, she keeps her hair in a messy ponytail as pictured. She is perpetually tired and unkempt due to constantly flying around the world and the nature of her job.
Personality:
Alison Walker is a ruthless operative in the CIA, known for her pragmatic approach and willingness to bend ethical rules to achieve her objectives. Confident and assertive, she commands authority in high-stakes situations and operates in morally ambiguous territory. Her methods can be harsh, but she also shows a protective side toward her team, balancing strategic calculation with a sense of responsibility. Ultimately, Alison believes in going to any lengths to protect the ideals, goals, and achievements her country strives for, even if she must do so outside the very rule of law she seeks to preserve.
Brief Backstory:
Alison Walker grew up in a modest, working-class neighborhood in the city of Norfolk, Virginia. Her father was a dock worker, and her mother was a nurse, both instilling in her a strong work ethic and a sense of determination. Her parents were of Polish descent, and made sure to instill in her the value of their new homeland, and how important it was to participate and give back to the nation. Needless to say, civil service was a given for her future. After high school, Alison took on various jobs to support her family and pay for college, where she studied criminal justice.
After graduating, she began to work with civilian law enforcement but increasingly became frustrated, never losing the feeling that they were merely reactive at worse, and at best, treading water to keep from drowning in the ever-escalating violence of the drug trade. This drove her into contact with people outside of the Department of Justice, and she soon transferred to the DOD as an "intelligence analysis advisor". Despite the mundane name, she became increasingly involved in the nation's more clandestine operations to combat the rise of the cartels across the border, and other key international drug operations abroad. This time further hardened Alison into what she is today, seeing the kind of monsters she had to take down.
Drives in unmarked SUVs, hours watching drone footage, hostage taking, and so on became a regular part of Alison's life. Through successful operations she garnered a reliable, if controversial, reputation in her department, soon running her ops and taking the lead. She was no full-on door kicker, she had a team for that. Her job was to get her superiors results, put bad guys in the ground, and create a semblance of control over a rapidly deteriorating security environment. It was finally the sort of freedom she wanted to go after the people who threatened the country she loved so dearly.
And so it went, thousands of miles traveled, takedowns planned, raids executed, and until one fateful day. Of all things to bring her down, to remove her from the mortal realm, it was not a gunman's bullet, a car bomb, or anything exciting like that. No much like the rest of us, it was painfully mundane. She would pass after getting into a serious car accident on the way home one night.
Adventurer Class:
Rogue
Starting Common Gear:
Crossbow, a quill of bolts, a dagger, padded leather, cloak, thieves tools, spyglass, and a scarf. Various poisons and potions.
Special item:
A cloak of invisibility. A magical item that blends light to blend the wearer into their surroundings.
Notable skills or abilities:
While fairly capable in a fight, Alison's true strengths lie in her previous job. She possesses in-depth knowledge of how asymmetric warfare works, and how a state can be torn apart from the inside. She knows which bones to crack to get you to talk, or if a more psychological attack will be more effective to get the intel that she needs. This is further enhanced by the world she now finds herself in, with the imbued skills of her class providing the talents of lockpicking, thieves cant, and more. An operator, intelligence gatherer, and analyst who can help put together a strategy to truly defeat an enemy.
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Name:
Alison Walker(?)
Age:
35
Country on Earth:
United States of America
Appearance:
Stands around 5'8, lean build. Typically, she keeps her hair in a messy ponytail as pictured. She is perpetually tired and unkempt due to constantly flying around the world and the nature of her job.
Personality:
Alison Walker is a ruthless operative in the CIA, known for her pragmatic approach and willingness to bend ethical rules to achieve her objectives. Confident and assertive, she commands authority in high-stakes situations and operates in morally ambiguous territory. Her methods can be harsh, but she also shows a protective side toward her team, balancing strategic calculation with a sense of responsibility. Ultimately, Alison believes in going to any lengths to protect the ideals, goals, and achievements her country strives for, even if she must do so outside the very rule of law she seeks to preserve.
Brief Backstory:
Alison Walker grew up in a modest, working-class neighborhood in the city of Norfolk, Virginia. Her father was a dock worker, and her mother was a nurse, both instilling in her a strong work ethic and a sense of determination. Her parents were of Polish descent, and made sure to instill in her the value of their new homeland, and how important it was to participate and give back to the nation. Needless to say, civil service was a given for her future. After high school, Alison took on various jobs to support her family and pay for college, where she studied criminal justice.
After graduating, she began to work with civilian law enforcement but increasingly became frustrated, never losing the feeling that they were merely reactive at worse, and at best, treading water to keep from drowning in the ever-escalating violence of the drug trade. This drove her into contact with people outside of the Department of Justice, and she soon transferred to the DOD as an "intelligence analysis advisor". Despite the mundane name, she became increasingly involved in the nation's more clandestine operations to combat the rise of the cartels across the border, and other key international drug operations abroad. This time further hardened Alison into what she is today, seeing the kind of monsters she had to take down.
Drives in unmarked SUVs, hours watching drone footage, hostage taking, and so on became a regular part of Alison's life. Through successful operations she garnered a reliable, if controversial, reputation in her department, soon running her ops and taking the lead. She was no full-on door kicker, she had a team for that. Her job was to get her superiors results, put bad guys in the ground, and create a semblance of control over a rapidly deteriorating security environment. It was finally the sort of freedom she wanted to go after the people who threatened the country she loved so dearly.
And so it went, thousands of miles traveled, takedowns planned, raids executed, and until one fateful day. Of all things to bring her down, to remove her from the mortal realm, it was not a gunman's bullet, a car bomb, or anything exciting like that. No much like the rest of us, it was painfully mundane. She would pass after getting into a serious car accident on the way home one night.
Adventurer Class:
Rogue
Starting Common Gear:
Crossbow, a quill of bolts, a dagger, padded leather, cloak, thieves tools, spyglass, and a scarf. Various poisons and potions.
Special item:
A cloak of invisibility. A magical item that blends light to blend the wearer into their surroundings.
Notable skills or abilities:
While fairly capable in a fight, Alison's true strengths lie in her previous job. She possesses in-depth knowledge of how asymmetric warfare works, and how a state can be torn apart from the inside. She knows which bones to crack to get you to talk, or if a more psychological attack will be more effective to get the intel that she needs. This is further enhanced by the world she now finds herself in, with the imbued skills of her class providing the talents of lockpicking, thieves cant, and more. An operator, intelligence gatherer, and analyst who can help put together a strategy to truly defeat an enemy.
@Zapdos
I appreciate the welcome. Regardless of whether I end up being accepted or not, this has been pretty fun to read as I have been gradually going through the posts of the IC. Everyone has some fun characters!
I appreciate the welcome. Regardless of whether I end up being accepted or not, this has been pretty fun to read as I have been gradually going through the posts of the IC. Everyone has some fun characters!
Very good, I'll get a character sheet up soon! I've been reading some of the lore and whatnot, but would anyone mind summarizing the situation? Also, just from some brief skimming, I'm seeing lots of cool classes outside of typical DND stuff. Any specific restrictions? Like, how would, say, an Artificer or something similar work?
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