Avatar of Noxious
  • Last Seen: 10 mos ago
  • Old Guild Username: Noxious
  • Joined: 11 yrs ago
  • Posts: 615 (0.16 / day)
  • VMs: 3
  • Username history
    1. Noxious 11 yrs ago
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Status

Recent Statuses

8 yrs ago
Current I wanted lemon for the vodka so we built a greenhouse across from the library where all the books on summoning the apocalypse and proper hallucinogen etiquette sit. Sweden is lovely this time of year.
3 likes
8 yrs ago
Writer's block is a fancy term made up by whiners so they can have an excuse to drink alcohol. -Steve Martin
3 likes
9 yrs ago
I want to leave this world the same way I came in; screaming and covered in someone else's blood.
3 likes
9 yrs ago
You would rather have a Lexus, some justice, a dream or some substance? / A Beamer, a necklace or freedom? -Dead Prez
1 like

Bio




ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ɢ ᴀ ᴢ ᴇ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ɪ ɴ ᴛ ᴏ ᴛ ʜ ᴇ ᴀ ʙ ʏ s s ᴛʜᴇ ᴀ ʙ ʏ s s ᴡɪʟʟ ɢᴀᴢᴇ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴀ ᴛ ʏ ᴏ ᴜ



Most Recent Posts


Both of her palms entwined about the steaming cup, cuddling up to it and relishing the warmth that began to fuse into exposed flesh. Cold, like many sensibilities, was infrequently perceived. It usually required a sudden shift affecting its dispersal or those in her presence acknowledged it at the forefront of their consideration. SOLDIERs had begun to gather and it was likely the notion had leaked from one of them. She allowed her attention to divide so that Sammael’s voice retained her mind and the others fell victim to curious fleeting and flickering glances. Those ghost pale eyes returned to Samm once again as his intonation proposed conclusion. Any focus on her part was a feat, likely possible by the grace of Exsomnis IX that was trickling alongside the ever present aeon genomes in her sapient platelets, tricking them both into clarity.

She stole a glance to her bare feet, twisting her toes around in the fresh snow as she did, and then became visibly serious. The tone that slipped from between those lips was soft, coated with a lingering intonation of good breeding tainted with a drug induced sprightly chime. “I feel the soul of the earth and want it to bleed into my flesh.” The seriousness remained for mere moments before it broke and fell into a giggle preceding her usual smile. Dark lashes and cheeks reddened by cold pinched into a wink to emphasize she was attempting a joke. She wasn’t that crazy. Or was she? She failed to offer any valid reasoning and instead produced a name. “Amentia, and it is a pleasure Sammael.”

She didn’t await response before allowing those pale oculars to roam once again over the awkward assortment; puzzling over their involvement, interactions, motives, fears. Her expression was trained to falsify the expected emotions and it worked in kind to remain unyielding to her own thoughts, whatever those may be, hidden beneath candy coating. When the blonde joined them for coffee she offered her an acknowledging bob, loose strands tickling across her shoulder while those that would obstruct her gaze remained harnessed with the lethal chop-stick. “Amentia,” she repeated her name, flickering gaze to the woman and increasing the smile briefly before going back to her perusal and taking another deep sip of coffee.

“What about you two? Have you both met, or perhaps worked together before? Personally, I’m curious about the high command forming up such a large group of SOLDIERS who seemingly have had very little in the way of contact with one another.”

Her words came more gently this time, toeing the line of whisper, likely due to faltering focus. “I haven’t met much of anyone really….” She seemed to be staring now. Kain’s emotions were roiling about him like a primal dragon goddess in heat. Sure, they were all letting out a little something, but he was a flipped car flaming 20 feet amidst a protest. She doubted he knew that ruckus he called emotions was blazing like a beacon. Distracting really. Her bare feet faltered and put distance, albeit minimal, between herself and Kain, closer to Samm. It was difficult to gauge if she had moved at all, unless you were the type to sense those sorts of things. The boundary of her form was transient, especially without due focus; wisps of shadow, ephemeral vexation, merged and sulked in the vacuous space about her with tenebrous wants and fickle memorization of form that flowed back and forth from her. Pinned only barely in reality.

Like cold, hunger was not an emotion people buried beneath their bullshit and was usually quite easy to manifest. It crept from them across the particles that tied all of this reality and tickled across her preception like a clue or key to frivolous, yet demanded, existence. With no neurological exertion from her own synapsis the feeling of hunger was found and mimicked into herself. Perhaps it was just habit that made the action involuntarily or the aeon felt the need to feel hungry or blend in. Maybe it was trying to distract her from the bonfire of rage. There were quite a few that were truly hungry, the sudden lurch within her own stomach and feeling of emptiness threatened a frown but she resisted. Either way it was there now, and no, the coffee would not be enough.





**Krieg is an NPC and can be used by all players. Please play with Krieg responsibly and do not get him killed too early. Thank you.
K r i e g a k a C r a i g

4 years old Male Welsh/German





Former Unit
Top of his class in Shutzhund dog training, tracking training, bomb detection, and K9 tactics; Recruited by Centurion

Role
Bomb Dog

Skillset
Can smell bombs & drugs
Can keep laps warm
Tracking
Alert System

History
Krieg was born to a German Sheppard mother over burdened by a litter of 7 puppies, of which he was born solidly in the middle. His father, sadly, was not a part of his life but his siblings all looked out for each other. People often told Krieg his mom was a bitch, but he knew she was more than that, she was a prized bitch and he wanted to follow in her footsteps. He got put into training and all the other dogs teased him for his short little legs, but they underestimated his ambition and he became Top of the Class and was quickly recruited by Centurion.

Psychological Profile
Krieg has always worked hard to prove himself and will do anything for even the smallest "good boy". He's an excellent team player but he gets really tired of the "fake throw" game and it makes him less trusting the more you do it. He is a real prick if cats become involved-- racism is hard to train out of some people. As a puppy he had a lot of ADD moments [SQUIRREL] but he's grown out of that stage and seems extremely focused. Likely the most underpaid: he literally signed up for treats and pets.

Equipment
Bomb Jacket w/ carry handle
Water dish
Food dish
Comfy Blanket
Squishy Squirrel toy
@QueenOfTheBee you coo' in my book just based on the avatar choice. haha.
@NoxiousI'm working on a Russian Spetsnaz right now. Trying to hammer out a backstory I like, but it'll be done by today for sure.


I just read about these big psychopaths yesterday. Part of training is getting woken up suddenly, thrown in a room filled with blood and organs and then they release a dog to help motivate them to wade through it. If that isn't character building I don't know what is.

Not to mention this crazy fuck....


I'm excited!
Nobody is making a Russian? :(
L í v i a B U T C H Pantoja

Twenty- nine Female B r a z i l i a n

F o r m e r U n i t
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BOPE [Batalhão de Operações Policiais Especiais]

R o l e
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Designated Marksman

P h y s i c a l D e s c r i p t i o n
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She seemed to prefer function over beauty without completely loosing her feminine charms. Her hair is long deep brown that could easily be mistaken for black if it wasn't for the sun kissed lightness that always sat at the ends. It was usually pressed into french braids that showed years of practice. Her eyes had a steady focus and betrayed no brown tones, appearing as a complete pool of black, surrounded by lashes the same pitch. Her lips, supple when smiling, were often covered by a bandanna that bore the bottom half of a skull. She, like most in her profession, favors camo or muted tones on her five foot seven form. Her build is one accustomed to steady training, but also cursed by Brazilian breeding weighing approximately 135 lbs. A multitude of tattoos litter her tanned skin, flickers of black and red and skulls peeking from beneath clothing, and some blatantly challenging her other features for attention.


S k i l l s e t
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Cooking
Fluent in Portuguese, Spanish, French and English
Kombato Martial Arts
Counter Sniper training
CQB [Close Quarters Battle]; progression and combat
Breaching; explosives, battering ram
Urban Operations; land navigation, vehicle handling
Special Weapons and Tactics
Special Missions; reconnaissance, planning and infiltration
Counter terrorism; Counter Insurgency
Hostage Extraction
Response to Civil Unrest
Protection of VIPS
Suppression of Prison Riots

H i s t o r y
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Born in São Paulo where her family managed a luxury hotel just outside of Ibirapuera Park. She grew up with more luxury than most around her, but even as a child she seemed extremely aware of the poverty nestled just beyond their doors. She received an extensive education afforded by her parents upper/middle class status along with her four sisters, and while appreciative, never acclimated to the idea of school and preferred to read and accumulate her own knowledge. Her other sisters all went on to gain doctorates, but Lívia continued to struggle and left college after her first year to take on Military Police training. While her family largely disapproved of her choice for safety reasons, they supported her making her own decisions. They were a tight knit group and their eventually resignation to her new role and then offered support meant more than she could properly express.

Trouble arose once again among her family when she was asked to join BOPE and move to the heightened conflict area of Rio. The Favelas were made of nightmares that gave monsters the chills and her family had been constantly inundated with horror stories they couldn’t imagine their daughter experiencing. They couldn’t stop picturing as their little girl, but truth be told she was not a lamb being lead to slaughter. Her skills were admirable and by the time she was officially a part of the Death Squad her nerves had been brushed aside to make way for split second decision making; Victory Over Death.

After working for years without any scalding incident Lívia was involved in a raid that resulted in the shooting of three unarmed teenagers and the death of four of her team. Media clung to the story, claiming the BOPE was out of control and needed to be reigned in. While she personally had not been to blame, as cleared by superiors, her entire team had been placed on administrative leave until the press died down. So it was convenient to get an offer for work; sitting at home with a bottle of Cachaca was doing little to occupy her mind. When Centurion offered her a contract she resigned out right, packed her bags and gave her dog to her little sister, without near as much fuss as could be expected.

P s y c h o l o g i c a l P r o f i l e
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If there is one thing that rings true for a Brazilian it is the importance of family. Upon joining BOPE family became a blanket term that spread to cover her squad as well. There has to be trust, there has to be loyalty, and hopefully with time they come to think as a unit. She adapts quickly to others she battles with, learning them so that she can better assist in any situation. If Brazil taught her family, the Favelas taught her loss, and the ability to accept and come to terms with it in a way that almost seems pathological. There is little time to gauge someone else’s death when they are intent upon your own. Shoot first, ask questions later. She can be sarcastic, but she is also caring. She likes to unwind after any exchanged fire and sometimes this manifests itself behind a closed door with a book and other times there is drunken songs and pounding on tables. She embraces life, and finds beauty in the simplest things- often feeling like she should have died already and each day lived is a gift undeserved.

E q u i p m e n t
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SCAR Mk. 20
Sig Sauer P226
Wotan Knife
Tactical Vest
Kindle Fire; plethora of books & Plants vs. Zombies
As a side note, since Survivor was kind enough to use the formatted name, Amentia Obcasus is fine, no need for the flair.
ugh. I likely don't have time for this, but I'm thinking of keeping it diverse so *IF* I do join I'll likely go Scorpion Group of the Argentine National Gendarmerie. ('cause why the fuck not?)
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