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    1. Jinxer 11 yrs ago

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10 yrs ago
Currently living inside Life is Strange.
10 yrs ago
I'm baaaaaaaaaaaack.

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Name: Rhiannon Jones
Age: 24
Sex: Female


Personality:
  • Chipper - cheerful and upbeat about most things. While perhaps not inspirational she can relieve some gloom with her optimistic attitude.
  • Personable - while not necessarily a socialite, Rhiannon is someone who has the knack of getting on with others. This may not be a buddy-buddy type relationship but, at the very least, means that working alongside her is never a problem.
  • Inoffensive - she goes to great efforts not to step on anyone's toes without being completely passive. Rather than taking sides she becomes an arbiter, mediating between disputing groups thanks to her apparently empathetic nature.
  • A bit slow on the uptake - she can be slow to grasp a tense situation and this can become an issue when she enters a standoff with her cheerful mood.
  • Weak nerves - while not a coward, Rhiannon is reluctant to step out of her comfort zone which is largely limited to things she knows she is proficient at. In a combat situation this could cause her to hesitate to take on a role she has little to no experience with.
  • Slow to master - Rhiannon is not a quick learner. Once she has something down, she knows it like no one else. Getting to that point, however, can take her quick a while longer than others. She's a hard worker which goes some way to compensating for this flaw but nevertheless she may lag behind others to begin with.


Skills:
  • A good singer - being from Wales, Rhiannon has been well schooled in the art of singing through school choirs. As an added bonus, her lyrical accent makes nearly anything she says sound musical. She can't play any musical instruments, however.
  • Stamina - alongside her flaw of being a slow learner, Rhiannon has developed considerable stamina. She is by no means a slow runner but it is in the endurance challenges where she will shine.
  • Chess genius - no one has won against her in years and she enjoys crushing those who challenge her.

Background:

Rhiannon was born in central Wales, in the shadows of the Brecon Beacons. Both her parents hailed from the area, as had their parents, such is the nature of those born in the Valleys to settle where they were born. As the only child she was showered with love and gifts and so found it easy to venture out of the constricting and traditional daily Welsh Valley life, visiting the larger towns and cities just across the border into England. Later, after school, she moved out entirely and studied Chemistry at Cardiff University, staying in the halls of residence there.

That is not to say that she found it easy to adjust to city life, with the thousands upon thousands many more people living and working there compared to the slow and quiet days in the Valleys. Still, she enjoyed the bustling nature of the city while still being surrounded by her fellow Welsh for comfort. Gaining her degree she was reluctant to return to the Valleys, the expectation that she would abandon her adventure and settle down with one of the local boys (there were, according to her mother, several interested parties). Instead she took up another family tradition, one that could not be argued with, and enrolled in the military. Thus, she was posted across the Atlantic to America to begin her training.
I'll have a CS up when I get back from work tonight.

Update: I had planned to get my CS up tonight but I got back spectacularly late. I've got the majority done so I'll post up the finished product tomorrow.
I'll come along for the ride, keep an eye and lend my support etc
Arthur Ragnarson


His eyes snapped open, fearing the bright light of the operating table would meet him again but terrified of the utter blackness that came in between. He knew not which was worse, the being awake and feeling every bit of the physical torture or waking up to feel the new horrors inflicted upon him. Now and then he caught bits of what the scientists were saying, their discussions the only moments of reprieve he had. Usually they were arguing over whether to wait for him to be conscious or not before continuing.

This time, though, there was no bright white light blasting him full in the face. The room around him was much better lit with no spotlight upon him. The surface underneath him felt much more comfortable, supportive, and there were no constraints strapping him in place. He started to sit up, to get a better idea of where he was but then flashes of pain from every part of his body racked him, threatening to send the young Brit back into darkness.

"Fuuuuuu..." He whispered through gritted teeth, feeling the satisfaction of the rare swear mollify the pain; a little anyway. After the pain dulled into a numbing throb he moved slowly into a sitting position and took stock. By now it was clear that he was back in his room, lying on the bed. His right leg was in a cast and it felt like most of his body was wrapped in bandages and dressings. His left shoulder cried out in excruciating pain whenever he moved his arm and so, reluctantly, he made use of the sling that had been prepared.

It was difficult to get a proper assessment of his injuries through the swathe of bandages but from the pain alone he knew he had several minor fractures, his leg majorly so, and his shoulder had probably been dislocated. His chest burned whenever he breathed, suggesting at least a few cracked ribs, and he could feel the sharp pain of cuts and gashes across his entire body including a few minor ones on his forehead, left cheek and a light one over his right eye which had mercifully not impeded his vision at all.

With great effort, and excruciatingly slow progress, Arthur perched on the edge of the bed and, using a crutch left leaning against the bedside table, managed to stand. He took some time to adjust to the new balance, feeling distinctly unsteady on his unbroken but nevertheless injured leg, before making his slow way to the door. That short journey, normally six or seven steps, was exhausting and seemed to take an eternity.

As he began to limp down the corridor, keeping close to the wall so that he could lean on it to take a break, he wondered what to tell the others.
(Trigger: bladed things involved in this post).

@Gonzo@banjoanjo@HellHoundWoof@Lillium@Thundercrash@SheriffLlama@wolverbells@HecateProxy

GM Post

Two weeks later


"Ding dong! Gooooood morning everybody and welcome to another day of training! We're going to spice things up a little bit as you've made so much progress in your group sessions. Please report for your individual session as normal today. In the meantime, enjoy breakfast!"

Time being difficult to measure in such a place, with no apparent movement of the sun and no real nighttime, besides that designated by the facility coordinators, the month they had been in the facility (again, according to the coordinators) felt like an age to the residents. By now they had all grown thoroughly accustomed to the schedule, the occasional and perpetually upbeat announcements from everybody's favourite Head Researcher before and after every meal and once again in the 'evening' to remind them to get a good night's sleep; chivying them to their coaching sessions or the group session and sometimes just some random piece of information.

As a group they had all noticed their own, and others', advancements. First came the understanding and appreciation of their power in its basic form and from there came the practising, controlling and developing. The group sessions had enhanced the practice, not always in a combative role and sometimes became a discussion group on how best to proceed with input from the coaches. All in all, with the facility's sumptuous facilities, ample food and supportive coaches, the place was becoming less... bad.




Arthur Ragnarson


"Alright, I'll see you guys later. Gisela prefers to start earlier rather than later." Arthur waved to those assembled in the cafeteria, the early wakers and the still-asleeps alike, before heading towards the interview rooms. It was strange how familiar the monotone walls of this facility had become, how easy it was to wake up to the same routine everyday. He wouldn't go as far as to say he was enjoying the time spent here but it had certainly been a novel experience, to say the least. In the past month he had seen things that he would have thought belonged only in a superhero comic and had come to understand his own ability.

A couple of weeks sparring with Uriel, or rather, letting himself be hit, had made him realise his power protected him from pain to some extent as well as accelerating healing. Now it took barely a couple of hours for any small bruises to heal and he received them less frequently, there was also very little pain and certainly no aching. Of course, more serious injuries would take longer as it was all relative but nevertheless, he was pleased with the progress. Even with Uriel inflicting the world's worst hangover migraine on him, the pain went away pretty rapidly.

The only thing was his power didn't appear to extend to illness. The last three or four days he had felt nauseous, although less so each day. At first he thought it was just a passing cold or flu, or maybe some food he had prepared badly but the consistency had been odd. In the end he put it down to the stress of first arriving here and, when his body relaxed a little, the after effects catching up with him.

His thoughts on and review of the last month had wiled away the time on his way to Gisela's room and before long he was knocking on the door.

"Ah, Arthur? Come in!"

The same as every day, Arthur turned the door handle and walked in, shutting the door behind him. Gisela was sat in her normal seat, legs crossed with the same clipboard she seemed to carry everyday placed neatly in her lap.

"How do you feel? You said you were a little under the weather the other day." She looked concerned. Arthur liked to believe that they had formed a mentor-mentee bond recently and had almost discussed some personal matters. Almost. He wasn't ready to cross that bridge just yet.

"Better, thank you. Must have just been a bug or something." Arthur smiled and took a few steps towards his usual chair. Gisela was nodding, writing something on her clipboard.

"Good, good. It won't interfere with the results then." She nodded over Arthur's shoulder. There was a crackle, a sharp touch to his back, blinding pain and then nothing.

When he awoke he found himself bound to a chair in a room he had never seen before. The surfaces were all metal, cupboards lined the wall and he could see through the glass cabinets rows of bottles marked with hazard symbols as well as test tubes and syringes. Files were stacked on shelves and he could just about make out the names of a few of the others' on the spines. One file was open with several stacks of paper spread across a nearby metal desk.

I'm guessing that's got my name on it.

He couldn't see anyone but there were definitely people in the room. There was the occasional clatter of metal on metal, footsteps and the low murmur of a few voices. The large light above him made it difficult to make out much that wasn't close by, as if he were in a spotlight and the rest of the room were in darkness. Footsteps began to approach and then he was surrounded by a few scrubbed up people, presumably scientists from the facility, looking down on him.

One of them checked the restraints on his wrists, ankles, legs, arms, head and torso while another shone a small light in each eye before disappearing, Arthur assumed to write down whatever he had seen. Someone was wheeling a metal trolley in from his left and he somehow doubted they were just tools for dentistry; the young Brit doubted anyone hated having their teeth prodded enough to require all these restraints. Then there was the manner of his being brought here.

They tasered me! The hell is going on? I can't keep up with all this.

The trolley was manoeuvred close by and caught the light a little. True fear began to spread and his heart began to beat rapidly in his chest; for on the trolley he could see small circular saws, scalpels, forceps, syringes and other assorted blade and tools of surgery. One of the scientists sorted through the array of tools, picking up the circular saw and testing the electric feed to it. They spoke and he recognised the voice of Gisela, his 'coach'.

"Test subject Arthur Ragnarson, classified as Regenerator. We begin the first session with an incision on his chest, one inch deep to begin with, to see how rapidly the body defends itself. Please make sure the rapid capture camera is deploy appropriately. To ensure there are no variables we will be conducting this test without anaesthesia. For clarity, the subject has recovered from toxins previously applied. Let us begin."

Arthur began to involuntarily struggle against his restraints but found himself barely able to shift, his eyes unable to point anywhere but right at the arm reaching towards his bare chest, a hand applying pressure at various points before apparently settling at the desire place. The buzz of the small saw began to sound. And then contact.
@Flagg

I'd say we're all committed to this (by the looks of things) so hopefully we can get it off to a strong start soon.
@Flagg

Three cheers! Huzzah! Huzzah! Huzzah!
@banjoanjo

Arthur Ragnarson


Nodding with a small smile, Arthur nodded in agreement.

"That sounds like a plan. Although 'there must be no touching of the hair or face!" He tried out his best Ron Burgundy but it was hard to hit the American accent properly without overdoing it. He laughed a little awkwardly and rubbed the back of his head. "But seriously, I think sticking with arms and chest are probably the best bet. Less accidental damage to happen there."

The other pairs were finding their partners and doing the same as he and Uriel: discussing how to test their powers out without seriously injuring one another. Although no one's power at this stage seemed likely to bring the ceiling down on all of them, Arthur suddenly felt that bunching up all together by the door of the massive room might have been a little risky. Nodding towards the cavernous space away from the others he brought this up with his own partner.

"Perhaps it might be an idea to take a few steps away from the others? We've no idea what's really going to happen, with us or them, and it'd be bad if you accidentally knocked someone else out with your signature haymaker or roundhouse, right?"

Moving away until they were separated by about six metres from the rest of the group, Arthur took a fairly relaxed position but still braced himself. Uriel looked to be a lot lighter than him, muscle-mass wise, but still it would be stupid to accept a beating without preparing at all.

"Alrighty then, time for the world's most one-sided boxing match. Ding-ding!"
@Flagg

Shiny. I've finished off the CS and posted it in the characters session as requested. Looking forward to throwing this varied cast into the thick of it!

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