Not the first time I've gone down the dark tunnel with a stranger
End Here Member
I am a human, not a toaster.
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@DJAtomika Mine should literally be just a flesh wound so nothing substantial
"We'll lose them in the city!"
He’d almost missed the monster sounding the retreat over the blaring gun fire. They were coming down hard on him, he’d slowly began to move his way back, firing his weapon nearly at point blank. They were close enough that the spray of blood was coating his armor. He took a slow step backwards, firing into the masses.
Now it seemed to just be a throng of people charging the group's position, either because they were swept up in the chaos, or because they genuinely didn’t want the team here. Another slow step, they were on him now so close that he could make out every detail of their face, he watched as the bullets tore them apart, their faces contort, eyes bulge it was always so gory. He let go of his rifle as the audible click signaled he was empty, he had no mags left, the sling kept the rifle close to him it now resting on his front. Drawing his sidearm he began to move quicker in the opposite of the horde of people. He unleashed a lethal volley of deadly magnetic rounds. One managed to jump him, he beat down on the power armor, and with a powerful swipe of his arm he launched the assailant into the crowd. He went back to firing his pistol, the fifty caliber rounds stopping anything they hit, and anyone behind them. “God they won’t stop coming.” he thought bitterly. This entire shit hole was a mess and if this was an indicator of how things were going to go, he might as well dip out the next chance he gets. A woman leapt at him, he dropped a round through her skull, painting her compatriots in a fine coat of red. He heard a distinct yelp, to his left an ice oil stick and a man had fallen onto it.
He swatted another person as they got to close, narrowly avoiding a homemade spear. He drew another plasma grenade, and dropped it at his own feet, he used the strength of the armor and launched himself away from the plasma, landing three meters away. A brilliant white light and then pools of glowing plasma were all that remained. He crawled to his feet, and began his retreat, looking back firing occasionally at the enemy. He’d use whatever cover he could find. Another bullet struck his armor this time in the stomach, he felt a slight pinch. His hud notified him that he had a minor wound. He fired back into the crowd as he continued to escape. He’d lost most of the party at this point, he crawled over the rubble and disappeared into the streets.
His left hand putting pressure onto his stomach, he slowed his breathing letting his heart catch up too him. His HUD finally came came up with a complete medical diagnostic, nothing close to life threatening. He continued to hold his stomach to prevent too much blood from spilling onto the ground it’d give them a trail to follow. He dipped between buildings and other rubble in the streets. He managed to spot what was left of his handlers, the creature was moving quickly. He fell in behind him letting his hand go from his wound. He maintained his pace at a quick trot, waiting for a minute before finally speaking “What the fuck happened back there?!” His disgust with the creatures earlier actions seeping into his voice. He managed to bite his tongue, realizing he might be dealing with amateurs. He tagged the creature as friendly, in his HUD.
He’d almost missed the monster sounding the retreat over the blaring gun fire. They were coming down hard on him, he’d slowly began to move his way back, firing his weapon nearly at point blank. They were close enough that the spray of blood was coating his armor. He took a slow step backwards, firing into the masses.
Now it seemed to just be a throng of people charging the group's position, either because they were swept up in the chaos, or because they genuinely didn’t want the team here. Another slow step, they were on him now so close that he could make out every detail of their face, he watched as the bullets tore them apart, their faces contort, eyes bulge it was always so gory. He let go of his rifle as the audible click signaled he was empty, he had no mags left, the sling kept the rifle close to him it now resting on his front. Drawing his sidearm he began to move quicker in the opposite of the horde of people. He unleashed a lethal volley of deadly magnetic rounds. One managed to jump him, he beat down on the power armor, and with a powerful swipe of his arm he launched the assailant into the crowd. He went back to firing his pistol, the fifty caliber rounds stopping anything they hit, and anyone behind them. “God they won’t stop coming.” he thought bitterly. This entire shit hole was a mess and if this was an indicator of how things were going to go, he might as well dip out the next chance he gets. A woman leapt at him, he dropped a round through her skull, painting her compatriots in a fine coat of red. He heard a distinct yelp, to his left an ice oil stick and a man had fallen onto it.
He swatted another person as they got to close, narrowly avoiding a homemade spear. He drew another plasma grenade, and dropped it at his own feet, he used the strength of the armor and launched himself away from the plasma, landing three meters away. A brilliant white light and then pools of glowing plasma were all that remained. He crawled to his feet, and began his retreat, looking back firing occasionally at the enemy. He’d use whatever cover he could find. Another bullet struck his armor this time in the stomach, he felt a slight pinch. His hud notified him that he had a minor wound. He fired back into the crowd as he continued to escape. He’d lost most of the party at this point, he crawled over the rubble and disappeared into the streets.
His left hand putting pressure onto his stomach, he slowed his breathing letting his heart catch up too him. His HUD finally came came up with a complete medical diagnostic, nothing close to life threatening. He continued to hold his stomach to prevent too much blood from spilling onto the ground it’d give them a trail to follow. He dipped between buildings and other rubble in the streets. He managed to spot what was left of his handlers, the creature was moving quickly. He fell in behind him letting his hand go from his wound. He maintained his pace at a quick trot, waiting for a minute before finally speaking “What the fuck happened back there?!” His disgust with the creatures earlier actions seeping into his voice. He managed to bite his tongue, realizing he might be dealing with amateurs. He tagged the creature as friendly, in his HUD.
BANG!
In a fluid motion he pivoted on his right foot, his arm hooking one of the guards around his neck. He yanked the guard in front of him as a shield, and soon after the rounds impacted causing a spray of blood from the man. His comrades fell shortly after. He dropped the meat shield, and made a mad dash for cover. The drop ship immediately departed leaving the fallen. He dropped and slid for the cover of rubble. It wasn’t enough for his whole body, so he laid in prone. He began to lay down cover fire so that his new comrades can grab some shelter. With each squeeze of the trigger his rifle answered with a bark. His keen eyes located the man in charge, laying in a pool of his own blood his comrade had left him behind. He was more than disgusted with the beast. Something rash was formulating in his mind, he felt the itch in his body. He would leave the body of the commander in the center of the field. The rock exploded in front of him as a hail of bullets landed around him bringing him back to reality. Chips pinging off his armor, he was well aware that he was terribly exposed. He calmed his breathing and waited for an opportunity. An old man walked into the oncoming men their attention turning towards him. His course of action became clear.
He lept from his cover and moved forwards, he unleashed a hail of bullets, as he flanked right of the men. He worked with the brim hatted man, catching them in a crossfire, his battle rifle rang true and he watched several of the men crumple and fall. It was sickening to think his own people would act as The Duchy riff raff would. He dropped his magazine, and quickly reloaded another in. It landed with a clatter onto the rubble filled ground. His feet kicking the spent magazine across the deck. Roiger kept moving to the right. He grabbed a plasma grenade from his hip and rolled it in between a cluster of the assailants,then with a brilliant flash and a small scream the men were reduced to glowing pools of plasma which ate at the metal plating under their feet. The sound of boots to his right caused him to spin, and fire in a single motion, the man dropped behind him a woman also fell his rounds had over penetrated, he felt no qualms and turned back to the other attackers. He pressed on his attack, shooting down any man who tried to emerge from the rubble, between the two of them they were putting up a decent defence, though the numbers of the gang seemed nearly endless. Eventually if they were smart they’d give in.
He gave another group emerging from the rubble a spray of bullets, his rounds tore their flesh asunder, each bullet was designed to turn into a fan blade and shred flesh and armor alike. The center of the bullet had a penetrating tip. Through the sounds of battle he could hear the quiet moans of the fallen enemies. A round ricocheted off his shoulder guard and flew off with a zing. Then another off his leg plate, he focused his fire on the few who were directing at him, they had split their attention between the old man and himself. He fired his weapon with on hand as he grabbed another mag, he knocked the old one out and replaced it, his firing was ceased for only a moment or two. Drawing back the bolt he jacked another shell into the chamber. The magnetic rounds were fired at near the speed of light and as such they tore their victims apart. He fired diligently, switching from target to target as he slew each one, they posed almost no threat, in the crossfire in which they were trapped. Then another shell pinged off his armor, he changed his field of firing, now having to deal with his own horde, their kill field dissipated as he dealt with those that charged him. Bullets and even a few energy based weapons impacted around him. “You want some? Come and get it you DOGS!” They charged him running straight for his position firing from the hip and melee weapons. He cut them down left and right, his rifle showing them to their maker.
Oh dang, captain down.
I've checked this RP about thirty times today. Everyone has great posts.
Name
Gregor Lote
Year Born
2053
Date and age of incarceration
December 15th, 2083; Age Thirty.
Date and Age of Cryo
July 1st, 2090; age Thirty-Seven.
Physical Attributes
5’10”
190lbs
Athletic Build
Small scar on left eyebrow
Crime Committed
First Degree Murder
Treason
Personality
Gregor is a medically diagnosed psychopath, he has perfected the imitation of emotions to help him blend with all of the other people. He prefers to portray himself as friendly, and helpful in order to help him better his position though when provoked his violent tendencies surface. He’s meticulous in tasks, and every action is calculated to some degree.
Brief History
At a young age his condition began to manifest, being mean to other children, risky behavior, and general disregard of rules. He caused heartache for his parents until he was in his teens, at some point he realized how much easier life was if he acted nice to those around him. He graduated high school as a B student, He joined the military and soon graduated ranger school. He served six years in the military before becoming a private contractor. Eventually at twenty eight he got into trouble for accidentally killing two civilians, though found not guilty he was blackballed from the private security sector. After he managed to hold a job working construction, frequently he was harassed by local authorities due to his blood relation to a known activist and his past deeds.
WIP
Miscellaneous
Has survival and military experience through his time in the armed forces
Has combat medical knowledge through his time with the military.
---------------------
WIP still need to do editing
Gregor Lote
Year Born
2053
Date and age of incarceration
December 15th, 2083; Age Thirty.
Date and Age of Cryo
July 1st, 2090; age Thirty-Seven.
Physical Attributes
5’10”
190lbs
Athletic Build
Small scar on left eyebrow
Crime Committed
First Degree Murder
Treason
Personality
Gregor is a medically diagnosed psychopath, he has perfected the imitation of emotions to help him blend with all of the other people. He prefers to portray himself as friendly, and helpful in order to help him better his position though when provoked his violent tendencies surface. He’s meticulous in tasks, and every action is calculated to some degree.
Brief History
At a young age his condition began to manifest, being mean to other children, risky behavior, and general disregard of rules. He caused heartache for his parents until he was in his teens, at some point he realized how much easier life was if he acted nice to those around him. He graduated high school as a B student, He joined the military and soon graduated ranger school. He served six years in the military before becoming a private contractor. Eventually at twenty eight he got into trouble for accidentally killing two civilians, though found not guilty he was blackballed from the private security sector. After he managed to hold a job working construction, frequently he was harassed by local authorities due to his blood relation to a known activist and his past deeds.
WIP
Miscellaneous
Has survival and military experience through his time in the armed forces
Has combat medical knowledge through his time with the military.
---------------------
WIP still need to do editing
Thanks! This is my first advanced RP, but honestly its the RP there's enough structure I can build on Roy, but I'm not limited if it makes sense.
Poooooosted
Undocumented Military Facility
“I want the surviving members of the SRA freed too.” His voice was ragged from lack of use. He had long scraggly hair, and a full beard. A guard stepped from the rear of the room, with a touch of a finger the locks around his ankles and wrists snapped open. Simultaneously the five guards behind him snapped to attention, their rifles aimed at him. A sudden move and he’d meet whoever his maker was. The remaining guard who had unbound him almost lept back, avoiding his arms reach. They were wise, and all of them were almost on a familiar level. He knew their names very well and on more than one occasion he’d fought with them. “We have a shuttle prepped and waiting for you on the landing pad. There’s a document of our inventory on the data pad, if you would like to put in a requisition for equipment before you leave, you should do it now.” The suits voice was like velvet, deep and rich. “I hope we are making the right choice, if it wasn’t for our need your scheduled execution next week would be on track.” he finished with a smirk. His whole persona had changed in a heartbeat, it made him seem almost human. Roy gave his retort with little emotion in his voice “Too bad the Grand Duchy is slow to make a decision. I guess this is what we get when bureaucrats rule a society huh?” He stood slowly, not wanting to get gunned down from behind. He took the pad in hand, and began to swipe through their inventory, everything was as expected.
They were only going to offer him whatever scraps the military didn’t actually want. Useless weapons and equipment, things that never passed the Duchy’s basic standard, a standard so low they were basically useless. “What about my old equipment? I know they’re on station. They’re probably out of date but better than this crap, you want me to help save humanity but your broken government can’t bring themselves to giving away anything that could help me.” he said with a snarl. The suit gave a small shrug, pulled out his own pad and with a couple swipes another file appeared on his. It was simply called “SPA, TGF roster.” He raised an eyebrow. Instead of opening the file he turned and left. Walking down the hall the echo of his shadows’ boots was almost unbearable. They guided him to out processing, this part took equally as long as the meeting. Though only about fifteen twenty minutes it seemed like an eternity. He hadn’t had a breath of fresh air in over seven years. The final room before exit was one full of memories good and bad. His armor stood empty to the side of the exit. He approached is carefully, his hand laying gently on the shoulder. It was apart of him, of who he was. He’d used it in the service, and in his own personal war.
There were scorch marks, scars and dents each with its own memory. He looked at the data pad he was still clutching, his thumb tapped the roster, it was filled with names, three thousand seven hundred and twenty one names. He knew the exact number without having to look. The key in the corner said red, for killed and green for alive. As he scrolled he found only one name in green, it was his. His heart sank, and he tossed the pad onto the table. After getting suited up he stood before the door, with a deep breath, a final taste of incarceration he stepped through the exit. The wind blasted him first and the air was sweeter than anything he’d ever tasted. He was rushed towards the shuttle which was hot online and ready to go. Once on board he found the lock box, with the final bit of his gear. His rifle had as many memories as his armor. He looked over its utilitarian design, setting it on his lap, he grabbed hold of the hand hold made to prevent a person from falling over during launch and soon the ship was on path with the final destination. Roy eyed the crewman who was riding with him, he could kill them here and now, hijack the transport take it to the capitol and really show The Duchy what vengeance means. The crew chief spoke up interrupting his thoughts. “They should have killed you when they had the chance. Now we’re setting you free with weapons? I hope they know what you’re doing.” he said coldly. Something happened inside of him, it started low and bubbled to the surface, he burst out laughing, and couldn’t stop it was hysterical and uncalled for. “You...you’ve no idea, I couldn’t… I couldn’t agree more with you!” he doubled over with laughter. The Crewmen stared at him with some confusion. “I was just thinking about killing you and taking this craft.” he breathed out, regaining his composure.
Baelzarus VI
The rest of the flight was less eventful, the crew watched him like hawks now. The scene below was chaotic as they did a flyover they were landing at an old space port the crew was a bit jumpy. “There’s been some sort of civil conflict here, your team should be meeting us down there. It looks like we might be the first to arrive. Don’t try to run we’re here to make sure you don’t escape until your new handlers arrive.” The crew chief spat out as they made their landing. The doors were wide open now, when they got close he and the crew jumped out and they secured the landing zone, his weapon drawn. “Clear left” he shouted to the crew, his stance was slightly hunched his eyes scanning the horizon. He heard the all clear and they took a knee. The Shuttle was hovering ready for a speedy take off in case of ambush. “We’re ten minutes ahead of scheduled landing, we hold this position until other shuttles arrive or the handlers arrive.”
“I want the surviving members of the SRA freed too.” His voice was ragged from lack of use. He had long scraggly hair, and a full beard. A guard stepped from the rear of the room, with a touch of a finger the locks around his ankles and wrists snapped open. Simultaneously the five guards behind him snapped to attention, their rifles aimed at him. A sudden move and he’d meet whoever his maker was. The remaining guard who had unbound him almost lept back, avoiding his arms reach. They were wise, and all of them were almost on a familiar level. He knew their names very well and on more than one occasion he’d fought with them. “We have a shuttle prepped and waiting for you on the landing pad. There’s a document of our inventory on the data pad, if you would like to put in a requisition for equipment before you leave, you should do it now.” The suits voice was like velvet, deep and rich. “I hope we are making the right choice, if it wasn’t for our need your scheduled execution next week would be on track.” he finished with a smirk. His whole persona had changed in a heartbeat, it made him seem almost human. Roy gave his retort with little emotion in his voice “Too bad the Grand Duchy is slow to make a decision. I guess this is what we get when bureaucrats rule a society huh?” He stood slowly, not wanting to get gunned down from behind. He took the pad in hand, and began to swipe through their inventory, everything was as expected.
They were only going to offer him whatever scraps the military didn’t actually want. Useless weapons and equipment, things that never passed the Duchy’s basic standard, a standard so low they were basically useless. “What about my old equipment? I know they’re on station. They’re probably out of date but better than this crap, you want me to help save humanity but your broken government can’t bring themselves to giving away anything that could help me.” he said with a snarl. The suit gave a small shrug, pulled out his own pad and with a couple swipes another file appeared on his. It was simply called “SPA, TGF roster.” He raised an eyebrow. Instead of opening the file he turned and left. Walking down the hall the echo of his shadows’ boots was almost unbearable. They guided him to out processing, this part took equally as long as the meeting. Though only about fifteen twenty minutes it seemed like an eternity. He hadn’t had a breath of fresh air in over seven years. The final room before exit was one full of memories good and bad. His armor stood empty to the side of the exit. He approached is carefully, his hand laying gently on the shoulder. It was apart of him, of who he was. He’d used it in the service, and in his own personal war.
There were scorch marks, scars and dents each with its own memory. He looked at the data pad he was still clutching, his thumb tapped the roster, it was filled with names, three thousand seven hundred and twenty one names. He knew the exact number without having to look. The key in the corner said red, for killed and green for alive. As he scrolled he found only one name in green, it was his. His heart sank, and he tossed the pad onto the table. After getting suited up he stood before the door, with a deep breath, a final taste of incarceration he stepped through the exit. The wind blasted him first and the air was sweeter than anything he’d ever tasted. He was rushed towards the shuttle which was hot online and ready to go. Once on board he found the lock box, with the final bit of his gear. His rifle had as many memories as his armor. He looked over its utilitarian design, setting it on his lap, he grabbed hold of the hand hold made to prevent a person from falling over during launch and soon the ship was on path with the final destination. Roy eyed the crewman who was riding with him, he could kill them here and now, hijack the transport take it to the capitol and really show The Duchy what vengeance means. The crew chief spoke up interrupting his thoughts. “They should have killed you when they had the chance. Now we’re setting you free with weapons? I hope they know what you’re doing.” he said coldly. Something happened inside of him, it started low and bubbled to the surface, he burst out laughing, and couldn’t stop it was hysterical and uncalled for. “You...you’ve no idea, I couldn’t… I couldn’t agree more with you!” he doubled over with laughter. The Crewmen stared at him with some confusion. “I was just thinking about killing you and taking this craft.” he breathed out, regaining his composure.
Baelzarus VI
The rest of the flight was less eventful, the crew watched him like hawks now. The scene below was chaotic as they did a flyover they were landing at an old space port the crew was a bit jumpy. “There’s been some sort of civil conflict here, your team should be meeting us down there. It looks like we might be the first to arrive. Don’t try to run we’re here to make sure you don’t escape until your new handlers arrive.” The crew chief spat out as they made their landing. The doors were wide open now, when they got close he and the crew jumped out and they secured the landing zone, his weapon drawn. “Clear left” he shouted to the crew, his stance was slightly hunched his eyes scanning the horizon. He heard the all clear and they took a knee. The Shuttle was hovering ready for a speedy take off in case of ambush. “We’re ten minutes ahead of scheduled landing, we hold this position until other shuttles arrive or the handlers arrive.”
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