SirBeowulf

Heroes of Beacon - the Next Chapter

Lugu, I've changed Aurellius' semblance into one that actually works for him. Like I said earlier, its basically Guttsu's berserker armor, in that it gives the wearer intense strength and speed, but at the cost of destroying their body.

Under the Red Sun

I've changed it to Ferdinando. ;___ Ferdinand is best name.

Under the Red Sun

@SirBeowulf I thought you were going to do something about Tazanno's last name. At first, I thought it would be okay, but I reread your sheet and realized that the whole "Famous Ferdinand family of South Nepharie" is going to get uber confusing considering that the king of Talbor is named Draco of Ferdinand.

@Maxx

Yeah. Still no clue what to do with it. Would adding an E to the end change anything?

Hailstorm

The man wielding the megaphone spoke up again, "I repeat, throw down your weapons or we will fire upon you!" Jones was the first to respond, automatically standing up and putting himself in the line of fire if anything went wrong. His hands were held up and he kept a calm face. "Do what he says, people. I'd prefer if this went down without us receiving a supplement of lead to our faces." He sighed, sending a quick glance back to Arthur, "We're not resisting, we're gonna come out slowly and unarmed." Arthur glanced at Jones and nodded his approval, not that he had any weapons to put down. Just to be safe, he place the binoculars down on the top of the car and limped out from behind the car before speaking, "I need my cane, gentlemen! It's not a weapon. See," he said as he lifted his pant leg to show the mechanical leg that was clearly old tech from long before the Fall. Catherine groaned, feeling cheated. She didn't have anything against DERB, except that they were all assholes. Regardless, she holstered her revolver, not quite willing to drop it, and slowly peaked her head over the car. "Try not to shoot me next time!" She shouted back, pulling her hood back up. Jeremy looked up at his leader, obviously a bit conflicted about tossing his rifle away. A nod from Jones got him to relieve himself of the weapon, as well as Hans and Mico. The megaphone man spoke up again as the group walked towards the derb men. "Keep your movements slow and don't try any hero business. You especially, Lost Bitch." "Yeah, fuck you too," Catherine replied deadpan, keeping her arms crossed. Jones ignored her as he walked to the front of the group, eventually coming to a stop ten feet away from the soldiers. Like most jockeys for DERB, the men all looked healthy and well fed. For the apocalypse, at least. Their equipment, while still effective, looked passed down and held together by duct tape and string. Most of them were equipped with a motley collection of rifles, and their badges identified them as 'Seekers'. Tasked with the elimination of Lost, most Seekers are extremely hostile against Burdened, and their ways of taking out the unfortunate mindless munchers had many rumors behind them. The one with the megaphone thankfully decided on not using it to burst the caravan's eardrums. "State your business in sector F-11c. Take out your identification too," He laughed, a wide grin forming on his face. "And maybe you could perhaps make a contribution to DERB business by donating to our cause?" "I could donate bullets to your face, if you really want it," Catherine remarked, toeing the line of common sense by taunting the much more well-armed squad of DERB. "Cath," Jones replied, smiling nervously, "You do realise that there are currently twelve rifles aimed at us right now, yeah?" Catherine shrugged. "Been shot at before." The one in charge laughed again. "Some how I doubt we would miss at this range. Make a 'donation', or he gets a bullet to the knee," the man said, pointing straight at Jeremy, who just about started pissing his pants in fear. "Now, what the hell'd he do to you?" Catherine replied, staring the man down. The man stared back with a hardened face roughened with scars by the apocalypse. "I don't like his fucking face. He's got nerdy glasses too, those piss me off. And now you're starting to piss me off as well. Drop that iron on your hip, too. Did you think I wouldn't see it?" "Nah, I just thought it complimented my eyes." Catherine grabbed the gun by the holster and quickly undid it from her hip, letting it drop to the floor. Jones sighed at Catherine's rebukes directed at the DERB man. When it came to your life on the line, it was much easier to grovel at the feet of some asshole instead of trying to provoke him. "I'm reaching for my documents, now. I think you really should reconsider this. I'm running official DERB goods on a caravan. They wouldn't appreciate one of their men deciding to ransack it." Suddenly, one of the men in the DERB group spoke up, "Sir, shouldn't we be evacuating the area? Protocol says we shouldn't stick to one place too long after firing more than twenty roun-" "Shut the hell up, Private, I know what the damn protocol is. Do you want to make extra money or do you want to let these burdened scum go,” he growled as he reached forwards to take the papers from Jones. The leader scowled as he read the contents of the documentation. “Well, well, well, Mister Abrams. It’s your lu-” he said, before being caught off guard by a sudden ear wrenching screech. As if on cue, they began tearing themselves out of the woodwork, Lost started emerging from the buildings all around them, attracted by the rapid gunfire that had occurred. “Shit, fuck, open fire god damn it!” called the head honcho as he pulled out a battered revolver. The soldiers almost began panicking at the sheer amount that were converging on their position, but some drilled reflex forced them to take up their arms, the staccato sound of guns filling the air. Catherine decided to take advantage of this distraction and reacquired her handgun. Deftly, she also darted forward while the leader was looking the other way, firing at Lost, and grabbed Jones’ ID papers and stuck them into her pockets, assuming they’d be useful, and started running the other way, past Jones and back to the caravan, waving for Jones and co. to follow. “Start running,” Jones whispered to Arthur as he reached down at his side for the lead pipe, only to find nothing there. With a nod, Arthur started limping his way back toward the cars they had left behind, only to stop short in his tracks as a Lost sprinted forward from Jones’s back. Arthur swung back around, hitting the Lost square in what was left of their face with his brand new cane; the head of the poor creature caved in and it fell away, rolling around dazed as it collapsed. Jones, taking the cue, grabbed for his left behind pipe as the Lost recovered. A loud thud was heard as he brought the pipe down on the Lost’s skull, putting it out of action as bits of gore spilled out. “Keep together, Hans, get closer to us!” Jones said as Hans fell behind slightly. Only to grab ahold of a Lost coming straight at him and suplex the damn thing. “Or not, you could do that,” Jones said as he stumbled back towards and grabbed Jeremy’s rifle, tossing it to him. Catherine , while running, managed to get football tackled from the side by a rather fast Lost. She landed rather painfully on her right shoulder and just barely turned herself to face her aggressor before the force of its fist collided with her jaw. She felt a tooth get knocked loose as her gun, still in its holster, went flying. She threw her hand up to block the next fist and started to shove it off when the sound of her revolver rang out. Arthur was seen a few feet away holding the gun awkwardly as Cather kicked the now dead Lost off of herself. “H-Holy shit... “ Jeremy said as he pointed back towards the group of DERB soldiers. Dozens of Lost bodies lay around them, filled with holes, but even more had arrived to the party. What had to be fifty of the damn things were in the process of ripping the soldiers apart, limbs being torn out of their sockets as they fought desperately to survive. “We need to leave,” Jones said, a little sick at their escape being mostly in part due to the main force. “Jesus,” he said as one of the soldiers held up something. An actual damn grenade, with three more hanging on his webbing. The pin was pulled and he was swallowed up by the monsters. The explosion was incredibly loud, ringing through ears like a thousand guns had been fired at once. Jones covered his eyes as he watched the small crowd of Lost get ripped into pieces along with the military men, body parts littering the area and a load of gore and viscera covering everything. “Fuck me... “ Jones said, out of words. In the aftermath of the explosion, Arthur limped up to Catherine, holding her gun and holster out to her. She grabbed the gun and spat out some blood and her tooth as she stood, looking at the site of the explosion. “Well, can’t say I feel bad…” “Is everyone alright,” Arthur asked the group as a whole, looking around to examine what he could of their well being. “We can deal with any injuries later, we need to grab those supplies and get the hell out… I’m not even gonna suggest searching those poor bastards. All that’s left is meaty bits and charred steel.” “I will, however, suggest searching them,” Catherine replied, rubbing her jaw. “Except maybe not right now, as that explosion will probably bring any Lost that didn’t already come.” “You know, that might’ve been all the Lost in this sector. I guess we just did their job for them,” Jones said, grinning widely.

Under the Red Sun

Beo's Sheety Sheet of Sheetiness - Tanzanno

Name: Sir Tanzanno Fernando. Age: Getting up in his thirties, probably around thirty-seven. Gender: The one with a big donk. Species: Just a boring Human. Kingdom of Origin: Nepharie, somewhere to the south. Physical appearance: Tanzanno, or Tanz for short, is only just starting to get old. Of course, he's still in his prime, but he's been on the downswing for a while now. His short, angled hair is starting to get a few grayer bits, even more every day. Tanz' eyes and face are starting to show signs of crow's feet and the hollowing of his cheeks. Still, at five foot nine, he certainly has a bit of height over the average man. Don't think you can get the upper hand over him since he's getting old, he'll show any recruit he can still get them behind the ear with one hand behind his back. The many old scars and remnants of wounds certainly can attest to that.

Tanzanno

Attire: While most knights would prefer to charge into battle wielding full plate armor and hefting swords taller than them, Tanz would do otherwise. He prefers to run in wearing light chainmail, small iron plating, and generally a good chest plate. These combinations allow for Tanz to gracefully dodge and weave while fighting at the sake of less protection. Not like he needs it, anyways. Other than that, he prefers to wear a mix of light cloth and linen to stave off the heat of summers in southern Nepharie. You probably won't ever see him without his two weapons clipped to his belt. Personality: Most people would call Tanzanno a cryptic bastard when they first meet him. And they're right, he is a cryptic bastard, preferring to speak in rhymes and riddles and metaphors when teaching his students in the ways of swordplay. If you can make it past the first week, he's a pretty nice person. From the lowest recruit to the stubborn nobleman's son, he'll find a way to help them. Years of teaching have instilled a personal sense of responsibility that he takes up on most people he meet. Most of the flair and grace he had during his younger days are gone, replaced by a calm and cool personality. Swordplay is his passion, though, and he is usually automatically interested in anything related to it. That doesn't mean he's a sword freak, he loves politics. Debate and discussion with nobles often fills his schedule. Hobbies/interests: From swordplay to debate, to even an unhealthy interest in flowers, Tanzanno enjoys lots of things in the coastal hub of Port Orarius. Wines and exotic fruits grown nearby are his favorite things to eat. Skills: While his career is teaching the art of swordplay, Tanzanno has learned many things along the way. How to deal with nobles for example. There is a certain precise method you have to uphold around their kind, and he's become an expert at it. Debate and discussion is probably second on the list, with many a council influenced by his tacit smooth tongue. Other than that, Tanz has become an addict to the growth of horticulture. For someone first visiting his home, you would be extremely surprised at how he rivals that of a Dryad with his growing. Backstory: The Fernando family is popularly known throughout most of southern Nepharie. The common folk dream big when hearing of the family's down to earth roots and their rise, the barons and princes from over the land flock to get a chance to be taught by a Fernando. The Fernando family started off simple. Three or four centuries ago, a fairly large family of grape growers had all of their men were drafted off and sent to fight for Nepharie. While most would expect the men to return in a state of dread with many killed and wounded, the Fernando men proved them wrong. Bravery in the heart of battle and a bond grown while scraping the earth, the men stuck together. While some did indeed die, the majority managed to survive. And with it, their first tastes of sword fighting. The legend stops there, as many details have been lost, and most people only know the general story. Tanzanno was born under Marie Charlotte Tencinna and Rondero Fernando, his father being an important general in the Nepharian army and his mother being an important woman under a family of rich land owners. For the most part, he never really saw his mother on the small plantation he lived at for his young life. She had tastes like any other noblewoman, and therefor preferred lounging in castles and on the beaches of southern Nepharie. Being a man under the Fernando family had expectations of you, and once he turned ten years old, he was thrusted into learning swordplay. As a young man, Tanz caught onto the sword as a carpenter would a hammer. The art came naturally, as it did most of the Fernando family. Their style came not from drilling or swinging a sword the entire day, it came from fierce sparring. The standard Fernando style consists of an adaptation of the common rapier. Thicker and with a keener edge, the estoc mixed the slashing of a longsword with the penetration of fencing. Not only that, but wielded in the offhand is a smaller sword known as an espada, bordering on the line between shortsword and dagger. Their original style consists of a rapid flurry of blows meant to stagger the target, while at the same time parrying and blocking with the espada, combining the two to harry an opponent into making mistakes. Tanzanno's skills in the art meant that he could get away with a lot of things, and he did. Tanzanna really didn't develop much of a taste for war as his father did. He preferred to stay at his home of Port Orarius, but found a way to do so. Teaching the art was his goal. From lowly soldiers to elite noblemen, he taught them all. While some left in pure stubbornness, most found his skills in teaching others to be the best option. Many southern Nepharian men have been taught and improved their skills in the twenty years or so he has been teaching. Family: While Tanzanno for the most part rarely knew his mother who so easily left him, he knew his father well. Many an evening would be spent sparring with wooden sticks with his own father, and many an evening spent nursing bruises given by his own father. Being a general made it hard, though. Rondero was often away on campaigns, either solving riots or fighting on distant battlefields. Relationships: Weaponry: In standard Fernando style, Tanzanno wields the main weapons of his family. The longsword estoc and the shortsword espada. More often than not, he has found himself in need of a backup weapon of sorts, so Tanzanno keeps a curved dagger hidden in the small of his back. Abilities: Being a special kind of sword fighter, Tanz is very agile and quick. Attacks focused more on accuracy and speed than pure brute force can often force a person not experienced in aggressive fighting to make mistakes. A relentless attack is the core of every Fernando style, and with the two weapons, it certainly forces a person to go on the defensive. Other than that, Tanz is still strong and fast for his growing age, with a keen sense of reaction drilled from youth. Weaknesses: Being focused on the attack often leaves you exposed. The drawbacks of wearing light armor are pretty obvious, and the lack of a shield increases the chances of getting hit by a projectile. The Ferdinando style, while very effective against people simply hiding behind a shield, has problems when going up against another aggressive style. In such a situation, both sides will likely be injured heavily simply due to the fact that neither are able to properly defend. His slightly larger size also works to disadvantage him. While agile and fast, his stature just works against him on that playing field. Also, being of noble birth, Tanz has never really experienced any sort of hard work. Of course, he's not a soft weakling, but he knows nothing of the plights of farming or mining. Nor does he have knowledge over the wilderness. Toss him out into the woods with no equipment and he might just be tempted to chase after squirrels with his sword. Really, the only thing he does well is fighting and debating. Companion: Do flowers count? Other: Not much other than this.

Under the Red Sun

Rock'n cock.

@UrbanEvolution

I still don't get it.

Under the Red Sun

I persuaded Maxx with my

@Leonerdo

Uh... You persuaded him with your stone and rooster? I don't get it.

Heroes of Beacon - the Next Chapter

I see. I will work on some CSs and pick one out of them. If you all do not mind, I'd like to receive help on deciding what to go with once I finish them.

@NarayanK

Go for a guy with a dildo launcher. It'll be fun.

Under the Red Sun

I'll just be here. Watching. Judging.

Heroes of Beacon - the Next Chapter

Dude, Gutts was the Tankiest bastard to ever be in a Manga. You can't be like Gutts, Gutts deus est.

@KabenSaal

A MAN CAN DREAM. A MAN CAN HAVE ROLE MODELS. A MAN CAN TRY.