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Player Faction: Alhryt-Liu Trade and Lending Company
Contact us for loan and slave appraisal
Founded a little over three centuries ago by a Tian and Xul, both immigrants to Venedig, the Alhryt-Liu Trade and Lending Company (better known simply as the Company) got its start in a modest stall in the Bazaar exchanging currency brought in by the hordes of travlers from all corners of the globe. The pair did well for themselves, making a modest amount of wealth before moving into money-lending and trading. They shipped wool and wine, swords and shoes, anything anyone needed to anywhere on Erde. The pair had been well-off before but now they were rich, both of them attracting good wives and making friends in the higher circles of society. By the time they retired the names Alhrty and Liu were respected in Venedig, known for being dependable and able to investments into steady profits.
As time went on trade and currency exchange took a backseat to moneylending which left the Company with a problem: what to do with people who defaulted on their loans? Sure they could confiscate property and what little money the debtor had but that was rarely worth much. Every time someone wasn't able to come up with the money the Company made a loss, an unacceptable turn of events. So fifty years into it's existence the Company jumped into what people were already doing: the slave trade.
It was simple. Once the time ran out on a contract the debtor was given a week to come up with the money or something of equal value. If they couldn't they forfeited their freedom. They were no longer people but property, a red mark in the ledge suddenly converted to an asset. If their body still couldn't cover the cost their meager belongings were taken as well.
Of course, many tried to run away from their debts but the Company quickly built a network of bounty hunters, trackers and thugs to return escapees. It is rare for someone to evade the Company for more than a month.
Jobs Offered
Trackers:People who specialize in find property that decides to run out on agreements. Consisting of a highly paid but relatively small professional core supplemented by temporary mercenaries and thugs. One time contracts pay well enough and contractors that do well are often offered a permanent job with good pay and benefits as well as a pension for next of kin if they die in the line of duty.
Traders: This refers to people that sell slaves as well as those who sell non-sentient property. There are always plenty of assets that need to be sold off and traders working for the Company can expect a 20% cut of every sale as well as plenty of stock provided to them for no charge.
Silencers:By far the smallest of the employee categories Silencers are the in-house spies and assassins used by the company in situation where it might be too awkward, expensive or simply not convenient to hire the Razors. Silencers are expected to keep a low profile but how they handle any particular job is up to them. Whether they kill a target with blade, poison, arrow or magic doesn't matter as long as they're discrete. They are only sent to to deal with things that pertain directly to the company such as bandits harassing caravans or slaves plotting rebellion. The Company never takes contracts as a matter of principle and a sense of politeness towards the Razors.
General Labor:The men and women who serve as general muscle for the Company. They serve as bodyguards for the traders and higher up personal and protecting caravans or bringing in debtors who ran out of time, run messages to the various offices in the city, take care of the horses and repair the wagons. They take care of all the small things that go into running a business that most people wouldn't even think. It's not exactly glamorous but the Company would fall apart without them. The largest subset of the Company, the vast majority of employees start here. They are free to apply for a shift to one of the other positions or might be offered one if they show impressive aptitude in a particular area.
Contact us for loan and slave appraisal
Founded a little over three centuries ago by a Tian and Xul, both immigrants to Venedig, the Alhryt-Liu Trade and Lending Company (better known simply as the Company) got its start in a modest stall in the Bazaar exchanging currency brought in by the hordes of travlers from all corners of the globe. The pair did well for themselves, making a modest amount of wealth before moving into money-lending and trading. They shipped wool and wine, swords and shoes, anything anyone needed to anywhere on Erde. The pair had been well-off before but now they were rich, both of them attracting good wives and making friends in the higher circles of society. By the time they retired the names Alhrty and Liu were respected in Venedig, known for being dependable and able to investments into steady profits.
As time went on trade and currency exchange took a backseat to moneylending which left the Company with a problem: what to do with people who defaulted on their loans? Sure they could confiscate property and what little money the debtor had but that was rarely worth much. Every time someone wasn't able to come up with the money the Company made a loss, an unacceptable turn of events. So fifty years into it's existence the Company jumped into what people were already doing: the slave trade.
It was simple. Once the time ran out on a contract the debtor was given a week to come up with the money or something of equal value. If they couldn't they forfeited their freedom. They were no longer people but property, a red mark in the ledge suddenly converted to an asset. If their body still couldn't cover the cost their meager belongings were taken as well.
Of course, many tried to run away from their debts but the Company quickly built a network of bounty hunters, trackers and thugs to return escapees. It is rare for someone to evade the Company for more than a month.
Jobs Offered
Trackers:People who specialize in find property that decides to run out on agreements. Consisting of a highly paid but relatively small professional core supplemented by temporary mercenaries and thugs. One time contracts pay well enough and contractors that do well are often offered a permanent job with good pay and benefits as well as a pension for next of kin if they die in the line of duty.
Traders: This refers to people that sell slaves as well as those who sell non-sentient property. There are always plenty of assets that need to be sold off and traders working for the Company can expect a 20% cut of every sale as well as plenty of stock provided to them for no charge.
Silencers:By far the smallest of the employee categories Silencers are the in-house spies and assassins used by the company in situation where it might be too awkward, expensive or simply not convenient to hire the Razors. Silencers are expected to keep a low profile but how they handle any particular job is up to them. Whether they kill a target with blade, poison, arrow or magic doesn't matter as long as they're discrete. They are only sent to to deal with things that pertain directly to the company such as bandits harassing caravans or slaves plotting rebellion. The Company never takes contracts as a matter of principle and a sense of politeness towards the Razors.
General Labor:The men and women who serve as general muscle for the Company. They serve as bodyguards for the traders and higher up personal and protecting caravans or bringing in debtors who ran out of time, run messages to the various offices in the city, take care of the horses and repair the wagons. They take care of all the small things that go into running a business that most people wouldn't even think. It's not exactly glamorous but the Company would fall apart without them. The largest subset of the Company, the vast majority of employees start here. They are free to apply for a shift to one of the other positions or might be offered one if they show impressive aptitude in a particular area.
Name: Cocheta Alhryt
Age: 27
Physical Description: Cocheta's whole body is coated in scars and burns from fighting, marks from battles with bandits, beasts and people who had to be "convinced" that she was in charge of their lives now. Her arms and legs bulge with powerfully corded muscles, made for propelling fist, feet or blade into the skulls of her opponents. If one caught her bathing or in some other situation where she wasn't wearing her solid steel and leather armor they'd see a strong back and eight pack abdomen, a hard body for a hard life. Her face is a different story. Salesmanship is the single most important aspect of her job and a warm smile is often the difference between someone walking away or shaking hands on a deal. She keeps her face clear of any blemishes, her tusks and the gold nose ring she wears well polished, the thick ropes of her hair done up in neat dreadlocks decorated with feathers and beads. A bit of makeup applied to her lips, cheeks and eyes give her that bit of appeal that can be so helpful in suckering people in.
Important items:
Short Bio: Cocheta was born to Delshay Alhryt of Alhryt-Liu Trade and Lending, heir to a banking empire built off the backs of slaves. Her life was planned out for her as soon as she was born: training in the arts of bartering and diplomacy as well as honing her skills in combat to ensure that she could defend her family business. The young Xul took to her lessons very well, memorizing byzantine trade laws and currency exchange rates as well as learning to use a tomahawk and whip. There was a certain symetry she enjoyed about her teachings, being instructed on how to dismantle a person's finances as well as their body. A properly worded contract could be just as devastating a weapon as any blade provided the signer was desperate enough. There was no shortage of people who needed a loan, families trying to keep their homes, mothers who couldn't make enough money to feed their children, men who had gambled away their wages. Her father taught how to get all of them to sign terms they couldn't afford. Short term losses that led to new stock to sell on the block.
And when too many people actually managed to pay off the exorbitant interests rates there was always plenty of people traveling the roads by themselves, hunters that could be snatched from the woods, stock in other countries that could be quietly seized. There were plenty of opportunities to make money once you knew where to look. And she got her chance to start looking at the age of twenty when her father retired.
Seven years later she managed to do quite well for herself, increasing profits by almost fifty percent. But it's not enough. Cocheta is determined to make as much money as she can for as long as she can.
Starting Faction:
Spell List: None
Exceptional Skill List: Exceptional Trade (2) Exceptional Tomahawk Usage (2) Exceptional Whip Usage (1) Exceptional Diplomacy (1)
Age: 27
Physical Description: Cocheta's whole body is coated in scars and burns from fighting, marks from battles with bandits, beasts and people who had to be "convinced" that she was in charge of their lives now. Her arms and legs bulge with powerfully corded muscles, made for propelling fist, feet or blade into the skulls of her opponents. If one caught her bathing or in some other situation where she wasn't wearing her solid steel and leather armor they'd see a strong back and eight pack abdomen, a hard body for a hard life. Her face is a different story. Salesmanship is the single most important aspect of her job and a warm smile is often the difference between someone walking away or shaking hands on a deal. She keeps her face clear of any blemishes, her tusks and the gold nose ring she wears well polished, the thick ropes of her hair done up in neat dreadlocks decorated with feathers and beads. A bit of makeup applied to her lips, cheeks and eyes give her that bit of appeal that can be so helpful in suckering people in.
Important items:
Short Bio: Cocheta was born to Delshay Alhryt of Alhryt-Liu Trade and Lending, heir to a banking empire built off the backs of slaves. Her life was planned out for her as soon as she was born: training in the arts of bartering and diplomacy as well as honing her skills in combat to ensure that she could defend her family business. The young Xul took to her lessons very well, memorizing byzantine trade laws and currency exchange rates as well as learning to use a tomahawk and whip. There was a certain symetry she enjoyed about her teachings, being instructed on how to dismantle a person's finances as well as their body. A properly worded contract could be just as devastating a weapon as any blade provided the signer was desperate enough. There was no shortage of people who needed a loan, families trying to keep their homes, mothers who couldn't make enough money to feed their children, men who had gambled away their wages. Her father taught how to get all of them to sign terms they couldn't afford. Short term losses that led to new stock to sell on the block.
And when too many people actually managed to pay off the exorbitant interests rates there was always plenty of people traveling the roads by themselves, hunters that could be snatched from the woods, stock in other countries that could be quietly seized. There were plenty of opportunities to make money once you knew where to look. And she got her chance to start looking at the age of twenty when her father retired.
Seven years later she managed to do quite well for herself, increasing profits by almost fifty percent. But it's not enough. Cocheta is determined to make as much money as she can for as long as she can.
Starting Faction:
Spell List: None
Exceptional Skill List: Exceptional Trade (2) Exceptional Tomahawk Usage (2) Exceptional Whip Usage (1) Exceptional Diplomacy (1)
Name: Blyskawica "Bly" Biala
Callsign: Tlaloc
Age: 30
Nationality: American
DOB/Place: January 2nd 1989, Los Angeles
Service Record: United States Marine Corps 3 years (Awarded a Purple Heart) Los Angeles Police Department 5 years, FBI Hostage Rescue Team 4 years
Appearance:
When not on duty Bly tends to wear outfits that most would describe as "grunge", finding herself at home in worn flannel over ragged t-shirts, worn jeans and Doc Martens. She rarely covers her head, preferring to let her dyed blue hair show. She's not exactly tall but is noticeably muscular, standing at 5'6" and weighing 164 pounds.
Profile:Bly is friendly and somewhat soft-spoken in person, preferring to negotiate or try and find common ground in arguments than raise her voice above her normal speaking volume. A trait that set her apart from many of her fellow Devil Dogs it nevertheless served her well when serving as a negotiator for the LAPD. She speaks with her hands, gesturing as she talks animatedly about any number of subjects ranging from contemporary art and pop culture to photography and cinema. She's worldly and cultured, spending much of her free time collecting antiques and curios.
During a mission her primary goal is ensuring the welfare of any hostages or civilian bystanders in the area of operations, a by product of the death of her brother and her training as a police officer and HRT member. She places a premium on extreme aggression in an attempt to ensure that the opposition is crushed before they can do more harm. This reflected in her choice of weaponry, huge amounts of heavy ordance for clearing out hostiles and a nonlethal option for when there are civilians in the AO.
Role:Attack/Defense
Bio: Blyskawica Biala was born to family of Polish immigrants to the United States, the second of three children and the first to be born in California. Her childhood was somewhat unremarkable, earning decent grades in elementary and middle school, playing with the family dog (Szalony) and taking part in extracurricular sports such as soccer and softball. Her nickname was given to her by a friend that found "Blyskawica" completely unpronounceable. When shown how it was spelled this young acquaintance decided to refer to her simply as "Bly" and the name stuck.
By the time she was fourteen Bly had decided on her career: she was going to be a photographer. A family friend ran a studio in the heart of Los Angeles and she spent much of her free time there, devoting hours and days to learning about lighting and how to develop her own photos. The young girl had a knack for it, winning multiple competitions and was dead set on studying photography in college until her brother died.
Piotr was running errands and decided to take his little sister with him, the pair patiently waiting in line at a the jewelry store to pick out a necklace for his fiancee when it was robbed. Three masked stormed in, firing guns in the air and demanding that the safes be opened. Police were called and there was a tense three hour stand-off, neither side willing to back down. Bly and Piotr spent the time huddled in a corner, the brother whispering to his sister that everything was going to be okay.
By the end of the third hour the gunmen were clearly nervous, arguing in hushed tones among themselves and brandishing their weapons as they screamed at hostages. A mistake was bound to be made at some point and it took the form of the one of the masked robber's pistols going on accidentally. In an instant the shooting started, windows and drywall being shattered as the police unloaded a hail of lead into the store, the bandits firing back. In less than twenty seconds it was all over. The casualties included the three gunmen, two officers and one hostage: Piotr.
And just like that, Bly's life had changed for the worse. She didn't talk for more than a year after the incident, no longer showing interest in photography or sports or anything besides staying in her room. There was nothing for her anymore, her brother had been cut down by a stray bullet and she wished it had been her instead. But one can't grieve forever and she eventually recovered, albeit now lacking the will to apply herself in school. She barely managed to pass high school and was looking at minimum wage jobs near here when she saw an ad for the United States Marines. On a whim she decided to visit a recruiting office and signed up for active duty. Her parents found out about the decision when she was on her way to Camp Pendleton.
She excelled in boot camp, finding that she enjoyed the rigorous training and daily routines. She passed through basic training and was shipped off to Afghanistan to serve in active duty. The first two tours of duty passed without major incident but on the third she caught a piece of flak from an IED, earning herself a Purple Heart in the process. While not life threatening it made her rethink her decisions. Why was she fighting in the middle of a desert when people back home needed her help? When the time for re-enlistment came she didn't sign the papers, catching a plane back to California and joining the LAPD.
Bly was a good cop, following the book and training herself in preparation for her real goal: the SWAT team. After five years as a beat cop she got the job, receiving training in negotiation and serving multiple high risk warrants. Her track record attracted the attention of the FBI's prestigious Hostage Rescue Team where she served for four years until being inducted into Rainbow.
Appearance:
Name: "Amaterasu"
Age: Unknown
Nationality:Unknown
Noble Arm Name & Appearance:
And
Noble Arm Abilities: Funeral Pyre:Using the sword form of her Noble Arm Amaterasu can cause a sudden burst of heat in a 50 foot diameter around her. Temperatures can reach past 2500°F, hot enough to melt steel. This attack leaves weapons inoperable and flesh literally melting off of bones.
Beam of Light: The spear form of her weapon can project a thin ray of intense light at a target, incinerating any object living or otherwise smaller than a house. Structures bigger than that will receive catastrophic damage and often crumble moments later due to support structures suddenly disintegrating.
Heat Death: Her most dangerous attack by far, Amaterasu can use either form of her Noble Arm to unleash an explosion of pure heat. Her body glows with heat (estimated at 5,000 K or so, not much less than the surface of the sun)before literally crumbling to ash. Anything with 22 miles of her will be instantly vaporized, past that buildings will catch fire and the water in living things bodies will boil until they burst up to a range of 200 miles away. Outside that living creatures will be susceptible to heat exhaustion and at risk of death by dehydration. Many that witness the event from a "safe" distance will be blinded. It's a combination of her other abilities except on a much larger scale.
Faster Than Light: Amaterasu can melt into a blur of light that moves faster than the eye can see for up to a minute. For long distance travel she can hit roughly 300 miles an hour. She has reflexes faster than any person recorded, having once been recorded catching two bullets fired from two feet away from her.
Personality:Amaterasu is loud, dangerous and incredibly violent. According to intelligence her nickname in the Hammer of Masters is "the Dragon" and it's easy to see why. Known for her attacks on banks and government buildings she has a penchant for taking hostages. Those without a Noble Arm are subjected to all manner of physical, mental and sexual abuse while in her grasp but Arms Users are treated quite well and often released to safety (unsurprising considering who she works for.) When given the chance she likes to toy with her victims before killing them, leaving the charred and mangled corpses of known Disablers or the Organization of Disarmament members on their family's doorsteps or hanging from lamposts. Recently she's taken a liking to the so-called "Colombian Necktie", multiple bodies being found with their throats slit and tongues pulled through the wounds in the aftermath of her attacks.
While presumed to be an adult Amaterasu acts and talks like a girl much younger than her. She's only ever been seen in a schoolgirl's uniform and her mask, tugging on the ribbons in her hair while giggling cutely. This makes that much more horrifying to witness when she snaps into one of her violent rages seemingly at random. It theorized she feels some sort of thrill from violent acts due to witness reports. She's been described as "shuddering, laughing uncontrollably, giggling to herself while rocking back and forth, and whispering gentle words into the poor bastard's ear while she did it." Other survivors have claimed that she's overcome by a sort of sexual high when committing such heinous acts. Whether it's a sexual thrill or no, she certainly enjoys it.
*Likes: Unknown
*Dislikes: Unknown
Fears:Unknown
Bio: Nothing is known about her origins. Amaterasu and her brother simply appeared to the world alongside their leader one day, fully formed and ready to kill.
*Current Goal: Cause havoc, make the world fear her.
Military Rank:
*Optional
Appearance:
Name: "Amaterasu"
Age: Unknown
Nationality:Unknown
Noble Arm Name & Appearance:
And
Noble Arm Abilities: Funeral Pyre:Using the sword form of her Noble Arm Amaterasu can cause a sudden burst of heat in a 50 foot diameter around her. Temperatures can reach past 2500°F, hot enough to melt steel. This attack leaves weapons inoperable and flesh literally melting off of bones.
Beam of Light: The spear form of her weapon can project a thin ray of intense light at a target, incinerating any object living or otherwise smaller than a house. Structures bigger than that will receive catastrophic damage and often crumble moments later due to support structures suddenly disintegrating.
Heat Death: Her most dangerous attack by far, Amaterasu can use either form of her Noble Arm to unleash an explosion of pure heat. Her body glows with heat (estimated at 5,000 K or so, not much less than the surface of the sun)before literally crumbling to ash. Anything with 22 miles of her will be instantly vaporized, past that buildings will catch fire and the water in living things bodies will boil until they burst up to a range of 200 miles away. Outside that living creatures will be susceptible to heat exhaustion and at risk of death by dehydration. Many that witness the event from a "safe" distance will be blinded. It's a combination of her other abilities except on a much larger scale.
Personality:Amaterasu is loud, dangerous and incredibly violent. According to intelligence her nickname in the Hammer of Masters is "the Dragon" and it's easy to see why. Known for her attacks on banks and government buildings she has a penchant for taking hostages. Those without a Noble Arm are subjected to all manner of physical, mental and sexual abuse while in her grasp but Arms Users are treated quite well and often released to safety (unsurprising considering who she works for.) When given the chance she likes to toy with her victims before killing them, leaving the charred and mangled corpses of known Disablers or the Organization of Disarmament members on their family's doorsteps or hanging from lamposts. Recently she's taken a liking to the so-called "Colombian Necktie", multiple bodies being found with their throats slit and tongues pulled through the wounds in the aftermath of her attacks.
While presumed to be an adult Amaterasu acts and talks like a girl much younger than her. She's only ever been seen in a schoolgirl's uniform and her mask, tugging on the ribbons in her hair while giggling cutely. This makes that much more horrifying to witness when she snaps into one of her violent rages seemingly at random. It theorized she feels some sort of thrill from violent acts due to witness reports. She's been described as "shuddering, laughing uncontrollably, giggling to herself while rocking back and forth, and whispering gentle words into the poor bastard's ear while she did it." Other survivors have claimed that she's overcome by a sort of sexual high when committing such heinous acts. Whether it's a sexual thrill or no, she certainly enjoys it.
*Likes: Unknown
*Dislikes: Unknown
Fears:Unknown
Bio: Nothing is known about her origins. Amaterasu and her brother simply appeared to the world alongside their leader one day, fully formed and ready to kill.
*Current Goal: Cause havoc, make the world fear her.
Military Rank:
*Optional
@Bob The GruntAccepted!
@Stern AlgorithmA ranked characters aren’t allowed. Change the rank of your Arm to B and lower the amount of revives to two please.
@Stern AlgorithmA ranked characters aren’t allowed. Change the rank of your Arm to B and lower the amount of revives to two please.
Victoria didn't have time to stop and make sure her demeanor was prim and proper enough to suit her commanding officer. If he wanted all to get all riled up because her words were a bit brusque and her actions seemingly callous that was on him. She had grown up surrounded by the rats and had learned from them. They were vicious little pests, hated by all and living in a world that wanted to be rid of them, but they didn't care. The rats were the perfect survivors, capable of digging through garbage to find food and tunneling through rotting wood structures to make homes for their babies. They made nests of filth to hide from the monstrous cats that hunted them every step of the way. A species hated by civilized society, they grew their claws long and their teeth sharp to rip apart and devour their enemies. The young girl could remember hearing stories about how smugglers and bandits would tie someone up and press a metal bucket with a rat inside to the victim's belly. The bottom of the bucket was heated with a torch of some kind and the rat would panicked, tearing through the unfortunate soul's guts without a care for their well-being.
It was a philosophy she respected. There was nothing Victoria wanted more than to see that her daughter and her comrades were safe. She had only known Diana for a night but already her heart swelled at the thought of her. Luke was an arrogant piece of shit with seemingly few redeeming qualities, but she had been the exact same way at that stage in her life. She wanted to ensure that Diana found someone to care for her and that Luke managed to get a hold of his actions before retiring to raise her baby. But when in danger or under fire she couldn't afford to think about anyone else but herself. The rats knew that, always the first ones out of burning buildings or sinking ships. Civilized people would stay to assist others. But Victoria was a long way from civilization. If the splintered spires that towered above grew fractured, and the city became their jungle, then it was furthest from civilization where the rules did not apply. Here, it was the rats who prevailed. Focusing on what others thought of her would just get her killed. If she died she wouldn't be able to care for anyone. So Victoria did what she best, squashing all the fear and worry she was feeling down into the depths of her souls as she shouted and kicked in doors. The frightened, hunched over young mother who had crossed the world to feed her daughter was replaced by a snarling beast who stood ramrod straight, towering over friend and foe alike as she prepared for blood.
The monster bared her teeth in a horrible smile, the expressionless skull of a mask hiding the way her scarred face expressed hatred of her fellow man. Victoria wanted to curl up into in a little ball in the corner and cry, but Victoria had been replaced by something else. A creature devoted only to survival, tearing its way through anyone and anything in her way: a rat. The rat was only calling for everyone to flee because if most of her allies survived it would benefit it here later. Rats traveled in packs after all. Her boots stomped heavily against the squeaky wooden stairs, butt of her carbine scraping away grime from the walls as she affixed her bayonet and checked her bandoleers. She had her ammo and grenades, what else could she possibly require? The blade was sharp and clean, readied to bloodied. She had enough ammunition to hold off a brigade, and enough ragnite packed into her bombs to take herself out if the Imperial bastards surrounded her. She knew what young men and women with adrenaline coursing through their veins were capable of doing to their foes, had seen it back home. Beaten and raped like a bitch in head surrounded by starving wolves? Not her. She would die and take the fuckers with her before that happened.
She could hear horrible choked, gurgling as she walked down the rickety stairs into the mouth of hell. People were dying, the cute little barmaid she had hit on the previous night bleeding from her mouth and nose as vomit pooled between her lips. The wretched girl was dead, no doubt about it. The Rat didn't waste a bullet, instead creeping along the wall through the vision obscuring gas. She could only seen vague blurs of movement outside the windows, ghostly figures running and shouting and shooting and dying. She couldn't tell if they were friend or foe or even just civilians caught in the carnage, so she ignored them. No reason to interfere with her fellow rats scrambling for survival.
And then suddenly one of the other vermin charged her, an Imperial rat with blood caked and cracked lips howling in violent desperation. The Oceanic digger was knocked to the floor by the sudden burst of power, her enemy no doubt fueled by a dying frenzy. They fell in a tangle of limbs, grasping for blades and triggers that were knocked away by the ball of snarling hatred. Her carbine ripped from her hands the female rat could only swat away the male's grasping claws that scratched and tore at the straps of her mask. "Give it to me!" the poor bastard screamed, his voice hoarse from the gas. "I need your mask!" Had Victoria been the one the one in charge she might have covered his face wither her coat and tried to lead him to safety. This was a war sure, but no one deserved to die like that. But Victoria wasn't in charge anymore. The Rat was.
"Fuck off." she snarled, growling the cold command as she seized his searching hands. A couple of quick twists and his pinky and ring fingers were shattered. The Imperial screamed like a stuck pig as he was bucked off, the feral rodent scrambling to her feet and scooping up her gun. Her opponent wrapped his his arms around her legs and tried to bite her, earning himself a swift stomp to the side of his face. The Rat tore her leg free and raised the butt of her rifle into the air. The Imperial knew what was coming and raised his arms to shield himself but it did nothing. The heavy wood club was brought down his skull, splitting it with a splatter of blood. The Rat lifted her weapon again as she began to repeat the process, obliterating the man's ribs and face as she swung and swung. Each swing was followed by an even harder one, her blue uniform getting splattered with warm sprays of blood and shards of bone. She screamed as she erased another living, thinking individual from the world, a single draw out war-cry that dared anyone stupid enough to challenge her to step forward and meet their end in the same unglamourous way as the dead man who was pressed into the floor.
POTENTIAL ACTIVATED: BERSERK
Eventually she stopped. It had felt good to get into another fight, to be able to empty all that pent up tension and convert it into the power to kill, but she couldn't stick around. The Rat masquerading as Victoria White quickly made her way to the group of her allies outside, picking away a stray tooth that had lodged itself in her rifle butt. "Who else is left?" she asked taking a step towards Diana as if to protect her from the monsters closing in on all sides. A hand scooped her rabbit felt hat off her head and tried to ineffectually brush away the mess coating the cape wrapped around her front.
It was a philosophy she respected. There was nothing Victoria wanted more than to see that her daughter and her comrades were safe. She had only known Diana for a night but already her heart swelled at the thought of her. Luke was an arrogant piece of shit with seemingly few redeeming qualities, but she had been the exact same way at that stage in her life. She wanted to ensure that Diana found someone to care for her and that Luke managed to get a hold of his actions before retiring to raise her baby. But when in danger or under fire she couldn't afford to think about anyone else but herself. The rats knew that, always the first ones out of burning buildings or sinking ships. Civilized people would stay to assist others. But Victoria was a long way from civilization. If the splintered spires that towered above grew fractured, and the city became their jungle, then it was furthest from civilization where the rules did not apply. Here, it was the rats who prevailed. Focusing on what others thought of her would just get her killed. If she died she wouldn't be able to care for anyone. So Victoria did what she best, squashing all the fear and worry she was feeling down into the depths of her souls as she shouted and kicked in doors. The frightened, hunched over young mother who had crossed the world to feed her daughter was replaced by a snarling beast who stood ramrod straight, towering over friend and foe alike as she prepared for blood.
The monster bared her teeth in a horrible smile, the expressionless skull of a mask hiding the way her scarred face expressed hatred of her fellow man. Victoria wanted to curl up into in a little ball in the corner and cry, but Victoria had been replaced by something else. A creature devoted only to survival, tearing its way through anyone and anything in her way: a rat. The rat was only calling for everyone to flee because if most of her allies survived it would benefit it here later. Rats traveled in packs after all. Her boots stomped heavily against the squeaky wooden stairs, butt of her carbine scraping away grime from the walls as she affixed her bayonet and checked her bandoleers. She had her ammo and grenades, what else could she possibly require? The blade was sharp and clean, readied to bloodied. She had enough ammunition to hold off a brigade, and enough ragnite packed into her bombs to take herself out if the Imperial bastards surrounded her. She knew what young men and women with adrenaline coursing through their veins were capable of doing to their foes, had seen it back home. Beaten and raped like a bitch in head surrounded by starving wolves? Not her. She would die and take the fuckers with her before that happened.
She could hear horrible choked, gurgling as she walked down the rickety stairs into the mouth of hell. People were dying, the cute little barmaid she had hit on the previous night bleeding from her mouth and nose as vomit pooled between her lips. The wretched girl was dead, no doubt about it. The Rat didn't waste a bullet, instead creeping along the wall through the vision obscuring gas. She could only seen vague blurs of movement outside the windows, ghostly figures running and shouting and shooting and dying. She couldn't tell if they were friend or foe or even just civilians caught in the carnage, so she ignored them. No reason to interfere with her fellow rats scrambling for survival.
And then suddenly one of the other vermin charged her, an Imperial rat with blood caked and cracked lips howling in violent desperation. The Oceanic digger was knocked to the floor by the sudden burst of power, her enemy no doubt fueled by a dying frenzy. They fell in a tangle of limbs, grasping for blades and triggers that were knocked away by the ball of snarling hatred. Her carbine ripped from her hands the female rat could only swat away the male's grasping claws that scratched and tore at the straps of her mask. "Give it to me!" the poor bastard screamed, his voice hoarse from the gas. "I need your mask!" Had Victoria been the one the one in charge she might have covered his face wither her coat and tried to lead him to safety. This was a war sure, but no one deserved to die like that. But Victoria wasn't in charge anymore. The Rat was.
"Fuck off." she snarled, growling the cold command as she seized his searching hands. A couple of quick twists and his pinky and ring fingers were shattered. The Imperial screamed like a stuck pig as he was bucked off, the feral rodent scrambling to her feet and scooping up her gun. Her opponent wrapped his his arms around her legs and tried to bite her, earning himself a swift stomp to the side of his face. The Rat tore her leg free and raised the butt of her rifle into the air. The Imperial knew what was coming and raised his arms to shield himself but it did nothing. The heavy wood club was brought down his skull, splitting it with a splatter of blood. The Rat lifted her weapon again as she began to repeat the process, obliterating the man's ribs and face as she swung and swung. Each swing was followed by an even harder one, her blue uniform getting splattered with warm sprays of blood and shards of bone. She screamed as she erased another living, thinking individual from the world, a single draw out war-cry that dared anyone stupid enough to challenge her to step forward and meet their end in the same unglamourous way as the dead man who was pressed into the floor.
POTENTIAL ACTIVATED: BERSERK
Eventually she stopped. It had felt good to get into another fight, to be able to empty all that pent up tension and convert it into the power to kill, but she couldn't stick around. The Rat masquerading as Victoria White quickly made her way to the group of her allies outside, picking away a stray tooth that had lodged itself in her rifle butt. "Who else is left?" she asked taking a step towards Diana as if to protect her from the monsters closing in on all sides. A hand scooped her rabbit felt hat off her head and tried to ineffectually brush away the mess coating the cape wrapped around her front.
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