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    1. Deamonbane 11 yrs ago

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9 yrs ago
Current When you see a sock on the doorknob, the only civilized way to react is to kick the door down, declaring loudly that," Player Three has entered the game!"
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Children go missing every day. Kidnappings, simple mistakes made by parents. The fact of the matter is that some are taken on purpose. And some people like to keep it that way. This the year 2054, a time in which technology advances have surpassed all imagination. Not the point that some Sci-fi people suspected, but it has advanced heavily. Time and time again, world disasters, such as global warming, nuclear wars, volcanic winters have been narrowly avoided, and with the arising of these catastrophes, the world has grown steadily closer. It is now united under a loose alliance of countries with the capital being in Tokyo, Japan. This city, even the country has grown into a metropolis that spans the entire island, with billions living in the skyscrapers that reach their pointed fingers into the sky, high enough to touch the clouds.

Tokyo is a beautiful city, the heights making those that are afraid of them dizzy to even look at. But few people note what lies below.

A government facility, not spanning miles wide under the earth, but certainly miles deep, underneath some unknown governmental building. It avoids all detection. Only people with the highest of clearances are allowed into the depths of the Ronin Facility. The name is a fallback on the past of the country, but it is not important. There are thousands of facilities like it and yet... not really.

Because now in the world, children of all ages are tested, parents believe that it is an IQ test to determine their place in the world, but in reality, it is a search for a specific Gene, what the scientists call the GOD gene. Ironically, it is a symbol of the evolution of mankind. The next step. It was first identified, completely by accident in a brain scan of a young child, and ever since scientists have been quietly looking for more of it. And the numbers of children born with it are growing at an alarming rate.

The first children to be discovered with it died in childhood, with no explanation. The government decided then that it was time to intervene, and study this advance in mankind. The children in which it was discovered were quietly stolen away from their homes, either to be replaced with clones, or shown up as missing. The children were studied and as soon as the scientists assigned the job realized what was causing the deaths, and the potential behind it, they asked the government to initiate Operation Black Heart. The children were transferred to a facility deep in the heart of Tokyo, where tests and examinations were quickly begun, with astounding results. Many still die, of course, the few that survive...

Ronin Facility has been in place for 40 years now. Some children have 'graduated' and started lives of their own, planted deep inside government agencies and military units where they are the most useful. But the ones still in the facility are under testing, and the results are beginning to make the scientists that are studying them begin to fear that this next step might mean the extermination of mankind as we know it.

1943 Hours, December 12th, 2054, there was an attempted breakout of Ronin Facility.
As you may have guessed, this includes mutations, powers ala X-Men, but not quite as advanced. People whose powers are potentially deadly, both to them and to the people around them. People that have been raised in secret, away from anybody else.

This story will be brought out in two 'seasons'. The first being the breakout of the facility. This will revolve around the GOD's that are breaking out, the scientists that are either helping them or getting killed as they try to stop them, and an investigation of how this happened. Season 2 will have two factions. The GOD's, as they continue their escape and try to expose what is happening to them and people like them, the 'Graduated GOD's', the ones that have adapted to their powers and have been living in the normal world for a while now, called back to contain the situation.

The powers that will be allowed will be the following:

Superior Strength
Superior Speed
Extreme Intelligence
Increased Healing Rate (Like Wolverine, from the X-Men)
Light Telekinesis (This power would only begin to be discovered in the Youths)
Light Telepathic Abilities (Again, only beginning to be discovered)
Very Light Precognition (The same as the previous two, only more so)

Each GOD will have the potential for any of these powers, but some have been more developed in others, due to experiments, training, and personal predisposition. The way that the powers will be displayed will be through a percentage basis. All powers will be starting out at 1%, totaling at 7% at the start, and being built from there. Telekinesis and Telepathic abilities, as the use of those will have been severely limited, will be restricted to a maximum of 10%(Telekinesis means that they have a shaky grip on the things that they can see, only being able to move one thing at a time, and it heavily drains their energy. Telepathic abilities will be restricted to light and sometimes confusing mind reading, coupled with an innate ability to read microexpressions on a person's face, as well as transmit thoughts to another person's head). As the precognitive powers haven't even been noticed by the scientists yet, only the youths, it will be restricted to a 5% growth (Being the ability to see what will happen to them specifically, as well as any deep emotional attachments, up to about two seconds in the future). The powers by now will be developed to 100%, divided as you like over the 7 different powers.

As for the growth of the rest of the powers, the limits will be set on you to decide, but if anything is too overpowered, I will ask you to alter it. At the end of season 1, you will be allowed to alter the power growth, as they will have used it in large amounts over their escape, and the limits on Telekinesis, Telepathy and Precognition will be lifted, somewhat.

Anyways, that is the gist. Any ideas can be presented, as well as new powers (again, only very basic stuff, and nothing elemental).A full CS will be presented with the opening of an OOC.

Thanks for reading!
Attacking a pair of men that are obviously fighters, and among the finest, along the road was never a smart thing to do. They usually didn't carry much coin, and if you wanted their weapons, you would have to be prepared to lose a lot more men than they were worth. Even so, there were many foolish and desperate men out there. The older Witcher was a pleasant travelling companion, used to tough marches, sometimes growling and spitting before breaking out into a marching ditty for a few minutes and then falling silent, mumbling a bit. He had seen his fair share of blood-letting, Iorveth determined, and while those days were probably not over for him, he was no longer actively searching a 'good fight' as he called it. Iorveth had been at war for a lot longer and he disliked admitting that he was well beyond tired of the fight as well. It was part of the reason why he had joined with Saskia so eagerly. He did believe in the woman, but he was also tired of living off of the forest, watching friends and comrades die for so long for so small an effect.

Oddly enough, the witcher had no intention of settling for any cause. Marriage was a foregone conclusion for him, with no children or woman that would want to marry a 'freak' of his kind. So he had long decided that instead of marrying and growing old and useless in some farm somewhere, he was going to wander the lands until he couldn't anymore. He would die in a damn good fight, he swore loudly, and there was nothing anybody to do to convince him otherwise. Iorveth found that view of life, while not exactly original, strong and refreshing. This man had no taste for the intricate court games that so many were involved in nowadays, preferring to live his life to the fullest, doing what he enjoyed doing.

"If killing is what you enjoy, my friend," Iorveth had said at what some might call their legendary visit to the nearby tavern," You came to the right place. My gut tells me that there will be much of it ere the moon changes again."

"I don't like killing, Laddie," Dros has said, his voice slurring heavily, and his original Nilfgaardian accent coming through," I like fighting. Killing is sadly the part where the fight ends, and I have to find a new fighting partner," He finished that with a silent toast to some fallen soldier.

"Where are you going anyways, lad? And what's the hurry to get there?"

The big human's words snapped the elf out of his reverie and he looked over to the man. It was odd how he seemed so big in a fight and yet now it felt like he was looking down at him.

"We are headed to Vergen, Dhoine, where The Dragonslaying Queen awaits my report on how amass the Nilfgaardian forces. I carry grim news, unfortunately."

Dros nodded, his beard patting his chest," Aye, the numbers are not the north's favor, but then again, they usually never are. You people usually win because... hell it, I don't know. You use the land well and have a lot of luck."

"Luck?" Iorveth asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Aye, luck. No matter how great a warrior you are, no matter how strong, brave or cunning, luck plays an immense part in every battle. A lucky bowman could put an arrow through your back. A lucky swordsman might be able to fatally wound you. You might be unlucky and have some speck of rotten cloth pushed into your wound and kill you of gangrene. Luck has been on our side for our entire lives. If not, we wouldn't be here."

"Luck seems to favor the better prepared, and the better trained, Witcher," Iorveth said with an odd gleam in his eyes.

"Aye, laddie," Dros said," But not always. How long to Vergen anyways?"

"I say another Half day's march, at the pace that we move at. We should reach there tomorrow morning."
Will put one up, then Kate, would you mind having a post of Saskia receiving these various people arriving in Vergen?
Better get X to do it then... I have already been booked for a birthday party...
Hmmmm would this someone be a scantily clad man dancing to the classic "It's Raining Men!" in a very suggestive manner?
Sounds entirely not fun. Welcome back to our imaginary world. We have cake.
Heya Kate. Where'd you disappear to?
Da fuq is my avatar?
This fight has had specialists from all over the world talking, Joe. While not really something special in and of itself, it has been talked about by Mixed Martial Arts fans around the world. Many for, and many against, what are your thoughts?

Well, Mike, bringing a fighter out of prison to fight in an official event is never something that is going to go unheard of, and there are many eyes on Garilov now, as he is entered the country, going through customs. He is going to attend a Q&A press conference soon, and we will be able to see how well he does. His history in official fights has been nothing short of amazing. 15-0 is his record, with 13 knockouts, and 2 submissions. He has been under the current rules of the UFC, but that was almost ten years ago now. Fighting in prison is different from fighting in the octagon. But, without a doubt, while there's controversy surrounding this fight, it is also estimated to be one of the most watched events since the beginning of the UFC.

I can't help but agree. He is a very versatile fighter, and very complete on the ground, grappling and on his feet, although his main strength, from what we can see, is from his striking power. His high and low kicks are very powerful and very fast. His punching is a little slow, but it's made up for in accuracy and the pure strength behind the blows. His opponent next Saturday night is former Light-Heavyweight Champion Max Jones, who, if he wins will be going for another shot at the title that he lost last summer to Mike Rhames, from Canada. But, from what we can see, he will have one hell of a fight ahead of him, make no mistake. Jones' strength is obvious. He is a power wrestler, former Boxer and with a black-belt in Muay-Thai and BJJ, Garilov and Jones are very alike in style, but I think Jones has the advantage in technique, Joe.

(Swtiches to screen to Max Jones) This guy's an internet sensation, and that's all he is. Justice is my town, it's where I fight, and it's where I win. The guy can dance around all he likes, but he is gonna have a hard time getting through me. I get the title in my sights, baby, and ain't no punk ass Russian gonna take that away from me.

(Back to Mike and Joe) Well, there you have it, from the man with a plan and sights on the belt once more. You can look up the logo of the fight on ufc.com. The main event will be the fight between Rhames and Mark Brokovich for the Light-Heavyweight belt, but most eyes will be on the Garilov vs. Jones next Wednesday.




The air here was different. From the moment that he stepped off of the plane, he felt the dense heat that this place was covered in. He enjoyed heat, for the most part, but the climate shock wasn't good. He shook his head and wiped his forehead on his sleeve. Once he had been released from prison, he had been taken to a hotel, where he had been scrubbed down. Then the tests, which in his opinion were stupid. Where the fuck was a guy to get performance enhancing drugs in prison? Crude poisons, yes. Recreational drugs with certainty. But not steroids and the like.

Next he had been taken to a shopping mall. Again, stupid, but the press boys wanted something other than a scraggly Russian to appear on the logos of their event. Barbershop first, to trip his goatee and make his hair more stylish. He growled at the very word. Next a clothing store, where they bought everything for him from training gear to suits, ties and underwear. His look for now, they decided, would a long, leather trench coat, reaching to his ankles, a suit underneath and wearing a felt fedora. They said it made him look... what was it... gangstah? He supposed that they meant intimidating.

He was treated to a fine meal, and a nice night of rest in the most comfortable bed that he had slept in... well, his entire life, he supposed. Then, an early rise, going to the gym to be walked through several training exercises to see what kind of shape he was in. The gorilla of a man that was training him gave him one look and said that he was ready to step into the ring at that moment, but sponsors had to be placated and assured, so they just went through the motions. He was in perfect shape, and he didn't need any fucking doctors to tell him so. He never drank overmuch, never smoked anything past the occasional cigar that he could get his hands on in jail. Recreational drugs were untouchables to him, along with the people that used them. The fact that the men that had worked behind the scenes to get him this far made their bread and butter off of these people disgusted him. While it hadn't been told to him directly, he wasn't an idiot. He knew that the rumors were that his long-estranged brother was currently residing in the US. He also knew that nobody stepped out of prison without a nod from the Mob bosses, and they didn't nod unless they needed something done on the outside. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure what was going on. He was being sent to find his brother. Maybe even kill him with his own hands.

Two weeks in Moscow had been spent training, filling out forms, signing papers that meant that his name and face were allowed to be used by the UFC logo to make money for them, more training, more paper signing, more tests, pictures taken with him in his new trunks and his most intimidating look to go on the promotional poster of his fight. The gloves were a bit of a hindrance, but he got used to them quickly. The parts that he hated the most was dealing with the press. Every day there was an hour or so set aside for him to answer their seemingly interminable line of questions. None were dealing with his family, but mostly his past, love life, his experiences in prison. Jackals of the media food chain, these reporters, living off of the scraps that those better than them tossed.

Finally, plane to Justice City, California, USA. He had set foot outside of Russia twice, both for fighting events, and each country felt different. USA was no different. The sun was off, somehow, shining right in his eyes as he stepped out of the executive jet, seeing off in the corner as a handful of photographers captured the moment that he set foot for the first time on US soil. He had seen their sensationalist writing about him. But he had to take it. Just going through the motions. He growled softly and took off his jacket. It was fucking hot here.
Jonathan - Hunter

It wasn't as if he could help his keen hearing. He just hear everything, and it remained there, lodged in his head until it was duly processed and chucked out. He didn't like listening to the random ramblings of the boring people around him. He just had to. The church demanded that he hunt with this group, and so hunt he would. But he would do his best to ignore everyone and everything as best he could for as long as he needed to until the fun began. He couldn't kill humans without just cause anyways, but imagining them being maimed and tortured at his hands were a great consolation.

He ignored the older man as he entered, munching on some small buns that were filled with something sweet and strawberry-like, and sipping the drink that he had been handed. It wasn't quite as strong as liquor, but it was stronger than wine, and far sweeter. Mead, he determined. Yes, it had hints of honey in it. He had never tasted the drink himself, but had heard enough about it to recognize the taste.

His head flickered around as a voice called out above all others, if only because it was muttered into a goblet, to himself, hidden from the rest. He smiled, as he had been waiting for something like this. He had eaten to his fill already, and being content was not a comfortable state for him to be in.

"And I suppose that you are here to make things all right again, Grey One? Aren't you a bit too... elderly to be hunting something monstrously large as the Shade? Shouldn't you be curled up beside some old fireplace reading some book as your grandchildren play at your old and rotting feet?" He grinned again, and, even without the mask, it was still a gruesome sight.
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