Lady Selune

CONTAINMENT

@HaleyTheRandom

Depends, are we talking electrical manipulation, spontenous electrical generation, or something else?

CONTAINMENT

@PigeonOfAstora Definitely SCP inspired, but with you as the anomaly.

CONTAINMENT

OOC IS UP BITCHES

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Welcome to Containment. Or, more specifically, welcome to Facility B. From its nondescript white walls, floor, flourescent lighting and bedspreads, you would assume it to be a hospital, mental health ward, or some other medical facility but it is far from that. The halls of Facility B are filled with machines strange and unusual, and normal operating procedures see gas-maked figures with assault rifles patrolling the wards with their fingers on their triggers. This is because Facility B is not a hospital ward- it is, in fact, a highly advanced testing facility for all manner of humans and creatures with powers not quite of this world.

Upon admittence to Facility B, all subjects are placed into nondescript grey clothing- shirt and trousers for men, one-piece dress for women, and issued with two metal wristbands and collar. The colour of these collars determines the subject's security levels, and the danger that their powers pose others.

Colour coded for your conveninece

RED: High Security. Red Subjects are all monitored 24/7- their bedrooms have cameras installed in them, and their beds are fitted with metal clamps in case of power incontinence. Typical red powers involve the ability to cause extreme physical damage to life and objects, such as pyrokinetics. Red collars are all fitted with power limiters that can be activated at will.

YELLOW: Medium Security. Yellow subjects have slightly more freedom than their red counterparts, thanks to their less dangerous powers. Nonetheless, Yellow subjects are also fitted with power limiters, and the yellow ward is still regularly patrolled by armed guards in case of issues. Typical yellow powers are generally more wide ranging in utility than red powers, but lack the extreme damage output of red, and physical enhancement powers such as unusual physiologies generally fit within yellow rank.

BLUE: Low Security. Out of all of the subjects, blue have the most freedom. Blue powers may not be directly dangerous, but do not mistake them for weak- blue powers can include temporal foresight, pitch perfect mimicry and other extremley useful abilities that, nonetheless, allow the user to be contained similarly to a baseline human.

PURPLE: Special Security: Purple subjects are those that have powers that render typical methods of containment difficult, such as intangibility, 'null potential' (turning the powered individual into an uninteractable entity) tekelenisis and other such abilities. Purple subjects are, much like their red counterparts, under constant monitoring and surveillance, and whilst bullets may not be able to stop them, the guards assigned to purple ward have their own ways of keeping these subjects where they're supposed to be.

The more subjects cooperate with testings, the nicer they can expect life inside Facility B to be for them- well behaved subjects receive better rations, more comfortable living arrangements and even genuine personal effects such as books, an (internet disabled) laptop or commodities such as cigarettes. Facility B is run like clockwork, always efficient, always awake.

Which is why this day is so unusual. You awake from your bed, the lights flickering and the guards nowhere to be found. The Facility is vast and mazelike, but you cannot survive forever in it without assistance- you have to escape.

Good luck.

Warhammer 40k: It's A Wonderful Life! An Imperial Guard (40K) RP

@CleanBreeze Arlena and the cards playing gang are in two different places.

Warhammer 40k: It's A Wonderful Life! An Imperial Guard (40K) RP

THE IRON HEARTED

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New orders. Opening the data slate up, she would prop it against the wall alongside her desk, taking a sip of her drink as she looked over it. So many formations, and alas, none of them Mordians. She could not say that she was not dissapointed, but this was but a new challenge for her, a new way for her to demonstrate her worth to the Emperor. Sliding the glass down and away from the screen, she realised quickly that her new company command squad would need to be formed. Her eyes scanned it- she knew what she needed, even if she did not know if these fellows would provide it. If they fell, ah well, she could always draw more up from the ranks.

A few names quickly stood out to her just from their regiments. Private Charlie of the 107th Cadian and Corporal Servan of the 223rd Mechanized. Excellent, excellent; a few good, stalwart fellows to form the core of the veterancy, and she shouldn't have to worry about getting their training up to date. Dragging their names just below hers, she would continue to look through the list of names and planets, eyes searching carefully.

Then, she blinked, once, twice. That string of numbers, a name attached to the end almost as if an afterthought. 415633-983223-17-Zhatka: 382nd Siege Regiment of Krieg? She raised an eyebrow. How interesting that Kriegers had been folded into this little regiment. Surprised she may have been, but she would nonetheless still place the name into the list of others she was assembling for her command squad.

A gunners and gunners mate. Some extra bite. She did not intend to be hanging back and letting others do the fighting, so these two fellows should do nicely, especially if more orks were on the menu. Those trukks... As ramshackle as they were, she could not deny that the sight of so many orks packed into one, roaring vehicle was not a little concerning, but time and time again they had fallen before concentrated bolter fire from heavy weapons squads.

Telaci Vast... There was a whole sentence dedicated to this one, how peculiar. Crash landed naval voidsman, assigned to Hirsit 101st. It was often said that varied perspectives were needed to ensure victory, and this certainly was a different persepctive. She would add the name on, looking now for a few more senior faces to hold things together.

She found them in a sergeant and a lieutenant. 222nd Edrastain Shock and 73rd Finreht Highlanders. Highlanders- she had heard that designation before. Close quarters fighters, much like shock troopers. Combined with the grenadier, she was looking at rather an offensive bunch in her squad, but that was alright- the hardest part would be assigning the honour of the regimental standard. She also idly noted that they had no medic, but she was sure one of these soliders wouldn't mind a little extra training and a lot extra pay for their troubles.

With that sorted then, she would send a brief message to the new officers under her commands. Those that would be leading the platoons and squads underneath her. She intended on running a compact ship, and although she would not be able to run a Mordian regiment as she had wished, and therefore her normal tactics would require some revising, she would nonetheless ensure that they lived up to her ideals. Perhaps she'd request a commissar just to ensure no fleeing.

That though, was for later. She knew that many of the men and women enjoying themselves outside would be those under her command, and nothing let you know about soldiers like how they reacted to superior officers when they weren't sober. Slipping into her coat and fixing her hat to her head, she would consider for a moment, before going to her wardrobe and retrieving a neatly folded navy cape, throwing it over her shoulders and clipping it just beneath her epatulettes. Thus equipped, she would stride out of the room and down the stairs, until she was outside and breathing in the chill air.

Almost immediately she noted two men stiffen up as they stumbled past her. Her gaze turned with them as they walked, and although she could see the exact moment where they realised she wasn't a commissar, the epatulettes and cape that she wore had scared them eough to not stumble until they were well out of her sight. Then, she would turn towards where campfires had been lit, shaking herself out of a march and into a more casual stroll.

Lady Selune Wishes to RP With You! [Always Looking] [Ignore Post Count (It's All Bumps)]

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Warhammer 40k: It's A Wonderful Life! An Imperial Guard (40K) RP

THE IRON HEARTED

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"For Mordia! For the Emperor! FOR THE IMPERIUM!" She had punctuated every shout of hers with a squeeze of the trigger. Another shot fired, another rocket whizzing off where it would dully impact and then loudly explode. The men and women of the Mordian 246th surged, bayonets fixed, the air in front of them filled with hundreds of snapped-off lasgun shots, the air thick with the lethal discharge, hissing and fizzing with energy. One could almost taste it, or was that perhaps the copper in one's mouth? It was hard to tell; everything was fire and fury.

When it was done, when the momentum of the charge had failed and they had fallen in their droves, with even the refined uniforms of Mordia punched through and broken, she had been left almost alone. The banner- the banner they had sworn to never let fall, lay ruined and tattered on the ground, scorched and destroyed, the shaft shattered and splintered. Her entire command squad had died in the fighting, medic's chest carved out by a brute's choppa, her veterans impaled, disembowelled, shot to shreds. How she had survived she did not know, but she stood there, hand covered in blood but blade unmarred.

Other squads had crashed by her, the ground earned with double-breasted blood churned up by soldiers from a dozen different worlds, each with their own bayonets strapped to their guns. Walking back through the killing fields, she had banged on the side of a parked chimera, the crew hatch having opened up with a surprised face poking out.

"Captain Di Fieroccu requesting the usage of your vox." She had said in a flat tone.

"... Certainly," had come the baffled reply, and she had hauled herself into the APC, the vox-channels crackling as she picked up the mouthpiece.

"This is Captain Di Fieroccu." Kssh. "Reporting near total loss of the Mordian 246th 5th company. Number of survivors unknown, but minimal. We are unable to reform into an effective fighting force, please advise, over." Kssh.

A pause on the vox channel, filled with pops and crackles. Poor signal here it seemed. "Requesting identification number Captain Di Fieroccu, over." Came the response.

"Three-Niner-Alpha-Tango-Fiver-Zero-Zulu-Romeo-Eight-Six, over." She removed her hand from the radio and waited for the man on the over end to verify her identity.

"Are you declaring fifth company effectively destroyed, captain, over?" Wh... What sort of question was that? She had just said exactly that. Bloody administrators, holding pens in space and never seeing a fight themselves.

"That would be correct. As I said, please advise on the next course of action, over." She didn't let her annoyance seep into her voice. She was better than that.

A long pause, and then the man would finally get back to her. "We are receiving reports that the beachhead is being secured now. The regimental objective has been completed. Return to the reserves. Over and out."

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Arlena had a significant number of medals pinned to her breast. It was only natural- she had served for so long in comparison to many here that it would have been more of a surprise for her to not have so many medals. Still, as an administrator pinned four more to her chest, she had to admit that it was getting a little ridiculous. To start with, her jacket was getting far too heavy to practically wear, and secondly, what good were these medals when her regimental standard snapped not behind her? When her fellow soldiers were slowly burnt and processed into piles of ash? She had survived another campaign, another planet, and now she found herself, not for the first time, wondering what step was next for her to take.

Apparently not settling down, was the answer to that. No, she would be moving on to the next planet then, more violence and killing. A new group of Mordians to whip into good order and march with, to learn their names and their old gangs. Her face showed no change as she thought on it. Yes, it would be good to see new faces. With the medals given out, she would about face, holding her sabre up and against her arm, and begin to march, one arm swaying back and forth in perfect parade form. Normally, she would be followed by her men, but there were no men. The Mordian 246th Fifth Regiment- all 300 of them, were dead or badly wounded enough to be laid up in hospital. She thought it a joke when she had realised that she was the only one standing in the parade ground, but no. It seemed the Emperor had blessed her, for although she had taken shots to her armour, none had been severe enough to merit her a longer stay in a medical facility.

So it was that she would march back in forlorn silence, the cold barely noticeable in her weather-inured bones. Officers received nicer accommodation than the rank and file, so once she had reported her weapons to the quartermaster (unlike the common lasgun, her boltpistol and sabre needed to be accounted for,) she would find her room neat, warm, comfortable and most of all, with her personal effects already placed in a box on her bed. How accommodating.

Picking out a few items, she would empty the box out carefully and arrange the few objects inside around her room. It was actually quite pleasant, when one got down to it. A metal framed three-quarters bed, sturdy and clean storage facilities, a desk and chair and even an en-suite toilet (even officers had a shower bloc however.) Slowly taking off most of her armoured garments, she would pick up a bottle of fine double-distilled amasec, the kind that was far too expensive for a normal trooper, and pour out half a glass's worth, standing stiffly before the small window she had and staring out at the rockrete structure next to the one she was currently standing in. The fine liquor burned its way down her throat as she thought and pondered, allowing the time to slowly slip away.

Long Time Roleplayer Back From Hiatus!!

Heya! I'm sure the changes around here will surprise you!

Paradigm Shift: Agents of Fate [Currently Accepting!]

Well, that was certainly... Something. Windchimes created for some unknown reason that... "By blue, do you mean melancholic or something else?" She would raise an eyebrow, before waving her hand. It didn't matter. First to America, and then onwards, to some foreign fields. Nodding slowly to herself, she would note both the louder noise and the moss starting to become more... intentional. Of course, that was silly, mould didn't grow intentionally, but it was hard to think something hadn't manipulated the plants creeping across the walls.

Surpressing a shudder that threatened to roll down her back, she would focus on her feet- one step after the other after the other. It was now, when there was nothing to keep her mind company but the faint noise of the two walking, that the lack of her headache was the most notable. The pressure that was lifted from her head! It was unbelievable! When it had started she had tried everything to get rid of it, from off-the-shelf paracetemol to codiene and even, foolishly, once, morphine, but nothing had quelled the feeling. For it now to be totally gone was such an alien feeling to her that she couldn't quite believe it.

Nonetheless, that was not what the focus should be on. It was time for her to meet her saviors... And those whom she was now indebted to. She didn't like that thought; she had managed to avoid any loan sharks for her whole life, and now here she was pretty much running into the arms of them.

Warhammer 40k: It's A Wonderful Life! An Imperial Guard (40K) RP

We've got the balls of a commissar, the eyes of a commissar... If we keep going eventually we'll just be able to voltron ourselves a full commissar.