Srsly though.
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Srsly though.
Sorry if the quality of my last post is potato, I'm not used to typing lengthy stuff on my phone...
Echo, knowing her gaze would be hidden by the dark coloured visor that was apart of her helmet, gave Tybor the once over.
She knew it was him - Eran Tybor, her old partner of course. As soon as she saw him arrive on his bike, her earlier suspicions had been confirmed. The way he manoeuvred it was instantly recognisable to her, and although Echo had tried her best to restrain herself, she'd not been able to avoid the flinching motion she'd made as she pulled herself back and into position.
Her eyes traced up and down his obviously worse-for-wear body as he now stood in front of her. The jauntiness of his movements as he got off the bike, the paleness of the skin she could see, and the overall shrunken quality his stature seemed to have taken on.
Echo swallowed hard. She'd seen this look before - someone that's undergone one of the rehabilitation programs.
It was hard to replace Judges - if there was enough to patch up at least half a functional Judge, they'd put the pieces back together and send them on their way.
Echo was a capable Judge - she'd been sent out with freshly rehabilitated Judges before to keep an eye on them, help them ease back in. Maybe because she'd done well over the years to avoid excess injury. Aside from an old bullet wound on her left flank and the only recently healed over slice through her lower cheek (which itched horribly, insider her mouth and out), she was essentially unscathed compared to most other judges.
None the less, when it came to what was essentially babysitting recovering judges, it was easy enough - she didn't know them, they didn't know her.
But now? Her chest clenched, turned cold. Eran Tybor may have left her out in open water without any kind of warning, but seeing him like this... it left her in a strange place.
Moving on, she distanced herself from those thoughts, her efforts reverting back to appearing as professional as possible.
"Dredd hasn't arrived yet, no." She answered, finally. "Stone and Sage should be arriving short-"
The low rumble of another cruiser alerted Echo to the arrival of yet another judge on scene. They pulled up to the pair, calling out a loud greeting. Echo shifted slightly, eyebrows furrowing in slight confusion, not quite sure how to respond.
"I'm Judge Echo Johnson, this is Judge Eran Tybor." Her introduction was plain and simple, and she held out a gloved hand to shake after gesturing towards the man beside her. She glanced at the badge on the new arrival's chest.
"Nice to meet you, Judge Stone. Seems like we're only waiting on Sage now."
She knew it was him - Eran Tybor, her old partner of course. As soon as she saw him arrive on his bike, her earlier suspicions had been confirmed. The way he manoeuvred it was instantly recognisable to her, and although Echo had tried her best to restrain herself, she'd not been able to avoid the flinching motion she'd made as she pulled herself back and into position.
Her eyes traced up and down his obviously worse-for-wear body as he now stood in front of her. The jauntiness of his movements as he got off the bike, the paleness of the skin she could see, and the overall shrunken quality his stature seemed to have taken on.
Echo swallowed hard. She'd seen this look before - someone that's undergone one of the rehabilitation programs.
It was hard to replace Judges - if there was enough to patch up at least half a functional Judge, they'd put the pieces back together and send them on their way.
Echo was a capable Judge - she'd been sent out with freshly rehabilitated Judges before to keep an eye on them, help them ease back in. Maybe because she'd done well over the years to avoid excess injury. Aside from an old bullet wound on her left flank and the only recently healed over slice through her lower cheek (which itched horribly, insider her mouth and out), she was essentially unscathed compared to most other judges.
None the less, when it came to what was essentially babysitting recovering judges, it was easy enough - she didn't know them, they didn't know her.
But now? Her chest clenched, turned cold. Eran Tybor may have left her out in open water without any kind of warning, but seeing him like this... it left her in a strange place.
Moving on, she distanced herself from those thoughts, her efforts reverting back to appearing as professional as possible.
"Dredd hasn't arrived yet, no." She answered, finally. "Stone and Sage should be arriving short-"
The low rumble of another cruiser alerted Echo to the arrival of yet another judge on scene. They pulled up to the pair, calling out a loud greeting. Echo shifted slightly, eyebrows furrowing in slight confusion, not quite sure how to respond.
"I'm Judge Echo Johnson, this is Judge Eran Tybor." Her introduction was plain and simple, and she held out a gloved hand to shake after gesturing towards the man beside her. She glanced at the badge on the new arrival's chest.
"Nice to meet you, Judge Stone. Seems like we're only waiting on Sage now."
Echo had been just about to lay claim to a theft in progress when she’d received the message.
She didn't know what made her mouth curl downwards more – the fact that she was required to go to Sector 301, or the fact that it was Dredd himself that had sent them there.
The man was a legend, and regardless of their stance on him, nobody could deny that.
She ran through the names he’d listed alongside hers. Sage and Stone…the names didn't ring any bells, although she didn't take any extra precautions when it came to memorizing the names of other judges so it wasn't a real surprise.
Tybor… Echo’s frown ran deeper. Could be a different Tybor – or it could be a mistake.
No. She took back that thought immediately as though there were actually some chance that he may have heard her thoughts. Dredd didn't make mistakes.
Swallowing hard, Echo headed off in the direction of the Asbury block of Section 301, dodging several cars as she pulled onto a road.
It’d been 14 months since she’d heard anything about her old partner – since they’d also been partners, consequently. He been transferred – that was all that she knew, or was supposed to know. Anything other than that wasn't any of her concern, apparently.
Not for a lack of trying, oddly enough. Due to her lack of interest in trying to make more contact with others than necessary, Echo lacked any form on network when it came to other judges. Nobody could tell her anything that wasn't either related to her work or outside her access.
So, she’d just accepted it and ignored the various feelings of detachment and resentment.
For a reason she was finding particularly difficult to place, there was a slight feeling of…hostility. Thinking about her ex-partner was leaving a bitter taste in her mouth and the desire to pretend her communicator was broken and head off to her solo bust anyway.
Well, she may have done that, if it weren't Dredd that had sent out the call.
It would be easy enough for her to ignore it, however, although locating the source of the feeling took a bit more than that.
For whatever reason, Echo had thought of herself and Eran Tybor as …well, friends. He’d been assigned to her when she was just a cadet, and been her partner after that as well. They’d worked well together – she figured you don’t spend all that time with a person and not feel some kind of attachment.
Mentor. Friend. Partner. And then one day he was gone.
Maybe she felt like she was owed and explanation – maybe not, but it still didn't bode well with her to discover that their relationship only existed on a professional level.
None the less, she made her way to Sector 301, barely fazed as she avoided a truck that had swerved dangerously. Normally she would have stopped them, handed out a traffic violation along with some potential time in the Block, and then been on her way.
She barely took notice of the world zooming around her – Echo had been on the job that long that even the more exciting parts had been ingrained to the point that she didn't need to think about it anymore. Swerving at high speeds through traffic. Counting out the perps and then shooting them all systematically. Even the interrogations, if they’d needed to be done. Punch, question, throw, threaten, and repeat until they spilled.
It wasn't until Echo was already in the 300 sector that she noticed the change of scenery.
There’d only been a few times that Judge Johnson had been called out here. And it’d been the sole reason why she’d usually avoided it.
There was no denying that Megacity-One and its occupants were poverty-stricken. Although, Echo had to wonder at what point does the most common standard of living still equate to poverty?
None the less, unemployment, violence and crime ran rampant in most parts of the city. Aside from the extremely rich and essentially non-existent middle class, everyone seemed to be fighting to survive.
But this – Echo noted – the 300 sector…it was so much worse than that.
She’d forgotten how much farther it could go south.
Judge Johnson pulled up outside of Asbury Block, standing beside her bike with a hardened frown as she waited for the other three judges to arrive.
She didn't know what made her mouth curl downwards more – the fact that she was required to go to Sector 301, or the fact that it was Dredd himself that had sent them there.
The man was a legend, and regardless of their stance on him, nobody could deny that.
She ran through the names he’d listed alongside hers. Sage and Stone…the names didn't ring any bells, although she didn't take any extra precautions when it came to memorizing the names of other judges so it wasn't a real surprise.
Tybor… Echo’s frown ran deeper. Could be a different Tybor – or it could be a mistake.
No. She took back that thought immediately as though there were actually some chance that he may have heard her thoughts. Dredd didn't make mistakes.
Swallowing hard, Echo headed off in the direction of the Asbury block of Section 301, dodging several cars as she pulled onto a road.
It’d been 14 months since she’d heard anything about her old partner – since they’d also been partners, consequently. He been transferred – that was all that she knew, or was supposed to know. Anything other than that wasn't any of her concern, apparently.
Not for a lack of trying, oddly enough. Due to her lack of interest in trying to make more contact with others than necessary, Echo lacked any form on network when it came to other judges. Nobody could tell her anything that wasn't either related to her work or outside her access.
So, she’d just accepted it and ignored the various feelings of detachment and resentment.
For a reason she was finding particularly difficult to place, there was a slight feeling of…hostility. Thinking about her ex-partner was leaving a bitter taste in her mouth and the desire to pretend her communicator was broken and head off to her solo bust anyway.
Well, she may have done that, if it weren't Dredd that had sent out the call.
It would be easy enough for her to ignore it, however, although locating the source of the feeling took a bit more than that.
For whatever reason, Echo had thought of herself and Eran Tybor as …well, friends. He’d been assigned to her when she was just a cadet, and been her partner after that as well. They’d worked well together – she figured you don’t spend all that time with a person and not feel some kind of attachment.
Mentor. Friend. Partner. And then one day he was gone.
Maybe she felt like she was owed and explanation – maybe not, but it still didn't bode well with her to discover that their relationship only existed on a professional level.
None the less, she made her way to Sector 301, barely fazed as she avoided a truck that had swerved dangerously. Normally she would have stopped them, handed out a traffic violation along with some potential time in the Block, and then been on her way.
She barely took notice of the world zooming around her – Echo had been on the job that long that even the more exciting parts had been ingrained to the point that she didn't need to think about it anymore. Swerving at high speeds through traffic. Counting out the perps and then shooting them all systematically. Even the interrogations, if they’d needed to be done. Punch, question, throw, threaten, and repeat until they spilled.
It wasn't until Echo was already in the 300 sector that she noticed the change of scenery.
There’d only been a few times that Judge Johnson had been called out here. And it’d been the sole reason why she’d usually avoided it.
There was no denying that Megacity-One and its occupants were poverty-stricken. Although, Echo had to wonder at what point does the most common standard of living still equate to poverty?
None the less, unemployment, violence and crime ran rampant in most parts of the city. Aside from the extremely rich and essentially non-existent middle class, everyone seemed to be fighting to survive.
But this – Echo noted – the 300 sector…it was so much worse than that.
She’d forgotten how much farther it could go south.
Judge Johnson pulled up outside of Asbury Block, standing beside her bike with a hardened frown as she waited for the other three judges to arrive.
As was per her usual morning ritual, Echo Johnson gave the thick, plated uniform before her a long, hard stare from its place in her locker before she reached to pull it out.
How long had it been now? That question was easy enough to answer. Someone had mentioned in passing that it had been her fifth year as a street judge several weeks ago.
It felt like longer. Much, much longer.
She’d barely taken the time to reminisce – what was there to reminisce about? She’d joined the academy at five, just like everyone else. Managed to scrape by for 15 years, and then became a Cadet. Once again, she’d barely managed to pull it in, becoming a full-fledged street judge.
Still horribly average now at age 25 as she ever was, but none the less, she continued to persist.,
Judge Echo Johnson. She’d always felt detached from that name, although that was to be expected. For the most part, she’d grown up in some non-descript area. Been picked up, tested, and sent away to the academy. The name was assigned to her, just like everything else was really. Just a bunch of letters that formed words coherent enough to be used as an identifier - But then again, that’s all names really boil down to, isn't it?
With a slight jerk, she yanked the uniform free from the metal confines of the locker, stripping down to her standard issue underclothes before donning the rest of her uniform.
Johnson couldn’t deny that there was always something about a Judge’s uniform – the effect it had, on her and everyone else around her. It commanded respect – fear; there was rarely a person that didn’t react in the same, paranoid way that most would when they spotted the helmet and dark clothes. Echo wasn’t a large girl – stock standard really; 5 foot 6 inches, 130 pounds. Rounded face, pale skin, light blue eyes – though her hair, in an effort to give the illusion of being an individual, had been dyed a sloppy mix of blue and black. Not that it mattered, really – she wasn’t vain enough to forgo her helmet just to people could take notice of her hair.
The uniform set her apart from normal people – although if you were comparing a judge to a group of civilians, you may as well be comparing an apple to a bunch of grapes.
Her helmet…she shifted slightly, and pulled it onto her lap.
While the rest of her uniform had been replaced several times over the years, she’d kept a hold of the same helmet. It was scratched and dirty with nicks dotting the carbon black and crimson. Towards the back, her fingers found a deeper crevice.
She remembered where that one was from, of course. Her mouth curled downwards in a frown.
Unlike a lot of Judges, she’d managed to keep the same partner from when she shifted ranks from cadet.
Well, until about 14 months ago.
She swallowed hard, flipping the helmet around and pushing it down roughly onto her head.
Her locker door was slammed shut, and her footsteps thudded heavily against the ground as she headed out.
How long had it been now? That question was easy enough to answer. Someone had mentioned in passing that it had been her fifth year as a street judge several weeks ago.
It felt like longer. Much, much longer.
She’d barely taken the time to reminisce – what was there to reminisce about? She’d joined the academy at five, just like everyone else. Managed to scrape by for 15 years, and then became a Cadet. Once again, she’d barely managed to pull it in, becoming a full-fledged street judge.
Still horribly average now at age 25 as she ever was, but none the less, she continued to persist.,
Judge Echo Johnson. She’d always felt detached from that name, although that was to be expected. For the most part, she’d grown up in some non-descript area. Been picked up, tested, and sent away to the academy. The name was assigned to her, just like everything else was really. Just a bunch of letters that formed words coherent enough to be used as an identifier - But then again, that’s all names really boil down to, isn't it?
With a slight jerk, she yanked the uniform free from the metal confines of the locker, stripping down to her standard issue underclothes before donning the rest of her uniform.
Johnson couldn’t deny that there was always something about a Judge’s uniform – the effect it had, on her and everyone else around her. It commanded respect – fear; there was rarely a person that didn’t react in the same, paranoid way that most would when they spotted the helmet and dark clothes. Echo wasn’t a large girl – stock standard really; 5 foot 6 inches, 130 pounds. Rounded face, pale skin, light blue eyes – though her hair, in an effort to give the illusion of being an individual, had been dyed a sloppy mix of blue and black. Not that it mattered, really – she wasn’t vain enough to forgo her helmet just to people could take notice of her hair.
The uniform set her apart from normal people – although if you were comparing a judge to a group of civilians, you may as well be comparing an apple to a bunch of grapes.
Her helmet…she shifted slightly, and pulled it onto her lap.
While the rest of her uniform had been replaced several times over the years, she’d kept a hold of the same helmet. It was scratched and dirty with nicks dotting the carbon black and crimson. Towards the back, her fingers found a deeper crevice.
She remembered where that one was from, of course. Her mouth curled downwards in a frown.
Unlike a lot of Judges, she’d managed to keep the same partner from when she shifted ranks from cadet.
Well, until about 14 months ago.
She swallowed hard, flipping the helmet around and pushing it down roughly onto her head.
Her locker door was slammed shut, and her footsteps thudded heavily against the ground as she headed out.
Here you go!
Claiming a judge spot!
Street Judge Echo Johnson, reporting for duty!--
Sorry it's so long, no doubt what I post after this won't be nearly as lengthy.
Street Judge Echo Johnson, reporting for duty!--
Sorry it's so long, no doubt what I post after this won't be nearly as lengthy.
Peachygem said
DrawingType: (Sketch, Linework, Simple colour, Portrait) anything you're comfortable with Reference: (Image preferred, but a quick description will work also) http://imgur.com/a/rMqTv <- either of those twoStyle: (If the character is for a pokemon RP, I'll do it in pokemon style.) NormalPose: (What kind of stance do you want them taking?) If you want to draw the first, girl a thumbs up/peace sign/or similar and for the second girl, arms crossedExpression: (The face you want them pulling, if any) 1st- a happy look, 2nd- a smirkThanks for offering this /w\
I'm on to it ^-^, and no problem :D
Drawing:
For generally drawing stype stuff, so characters and the like, I'll pretty much only be doing sketches, linework and simple colouring. For Digitial Painting, I'll only be doing portraits - that is to say, only what's above the shoulders. I don't really have the time to be doing really complex full-body with background stuff :(
Graphics:
I can do graphics, which at this point is mainly just focused around RP banners and Signature sets, and they're not too much trouble at all. For signatures, I will make them within the guild's constraints, which will be around 400-500x100-150 pixels. I'd prefer if you just left the sizing and stuff up to me, but if there was any really specific requests for a different size, then that's alright too I guess.
-Honestly, it's hard to say what I will and won't draw, so I'm going to judge on an individual basis on that regard. There's not a lot that I won't draw, but I figure I better say this first.
-I'm not saying you have to plaster it all over your signature, but please give me credit if I do a picture or make a set for you. I'll put my signature on drawings, but there's not a lot of space to do this in signatures, so please. if you would be as so kind...
-Please, only one request at a time. If I make you a signature one day, and you come back the next asking for another one, I'll probably either push the request down the list or deny it flat out. Drawings are the same - I understand people have multiple characters, but like I said before, the free time I have to put towards this is limited.
-Speaking of lists, this is going to be a first come, first serve sort of thing. I'll set up the list as soon as I get some requests, but yeah. I'll work on stuff as they come in, which I figure is only fair.
I AM SO KEEN HOLY SHITBALLS
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