Lykos

Name: Kavari

((Mc name: LykosEatsDoritos

Race: Kha'Leoparda

Allegiance: I am with the Tlatlanni, and the rest of the Kharajyr.

((Ri'Shajiir doesn't fill out the form, yada yada))

Name: Kavari / (Ri'Shajiir)

((MC: 'LykosEatsDoritos' ))

   It was a long day, as all days were for the road-weary Kha'Leparda. The badlands had sand that would burn even the thickest of paw, but long roads oft teach important lessons. Kneeling, Kavari reties the wraps around her feet, only to look up and rest her arms atop her bent knee, blue eyes blinking as they beheld a sea of orange and yellow. The mountains and crags were sharp and intimidating, and oh so alien to a Kha born with the jungle in her heart- but those ugly cliffs offered shade from a more sadistic sun. Only a few days had passed since she was still on her endless, lonely road. Only a few moonrises before now, she only had herself to worry about. Now here she was braving the heat to find enough herbs and roots to help the wounded in her newfound home. With a growly sigh, hints of pain seeping through her determination, she stands up, taking a look at her surroundings, and for the treasures she sought out. Pulling the ragged red cape tighter around her shoulders, she sallies forth as she recounts her experiences.

   A mere day before this trek in the sand, she had met an unexpected face. She was wary, cautious. Paranoid. For the past decade, she had been on her own- self reliant, but also solitary on the thorn-covered road. Other Kha were a rare sight, and often played the part as harbingers of trouble. Trouble for her. When she met Mukar, she knew he would bring adversity... Yet for some reason, she found herself following the Sage down the road, all the way to the last Bastion of the Kharajyr in Axios, a town nestled in the mountains under the Rex's shadow. Kavari was yet wary, but as Mukar showed her through the temple, the Leparda felt something that hadn't graced her for years- calm. The unexpected gifts did not stop at a rekindled connection, even. Mukar extended an offering- something that hit Kavari through any sort of psychological armor she had built up over her lifetime. Without so much as a request, he gave her a home. People she could talk to without fear of being killed for her pelt. It put out fires in her mind she didn't even know she had... But of course, another Kha on the road always meant trouble.

-

   Sliding down the dune, Kavari closes in on her prize, one of the few plants that thrived in the deathly environment. Using naught but her claws, she digs the hardy root out of the sand, stowing it in her backpack. One down, fourteen to go.

-

   Early in the morning, as the sun kissed the horizon, an explosion rocked the city of Kha, those that were present grouping up. Kavari immediately sprinted back to her new hut, getting back into her travelling gear- But for the first time, she wasn't running. She wanted to, yet she found herself tying the sheath of her sabre to her hip dutifully, heading out to follow the Sage that had lead her to that moment. Cultists, an enemy fought before, burns that still stung. The raid passed over her like a feverish dream, Kavi fighting with more ferocity than she had in years. With sword n' board, she bashed and slashed, kicked and clawed. Her fury was felt by the hapless ghouls, doubly so by those that sought to finish off those that they had fell. Thrice she dragged the Ascended back to his feet, but the raid was not yet finished.

-

   Even now, it wasn't finished. the wound she had earned across her forehead still bled, slowly as it did, and she needed to find more of the herbs that hid from her under the sand. She didn't know how to treat the wounded beyond anything simple, but years on the road oft teach important lessons. Which plant helps, which plant hinders? Of course, a small volume of a poison can act as a medicine, but too much medicine can act as a poison. Even now she had to be careful. The battle wasn't over just yet. It wouldn't be until the gates of her new home were repaired. It wouldn't be until every damned Kharajyr around her was safe and healthy.

The road of adversity never ends... But Kavari was a traveler. So onward she trudges, through the blistering sands. The hot springs called, after all.

Just so happens that my interests don't include group/nation rps, so I've stayed away for a good while.

In fact, I tried a pretty similar rp a - Sh*t it's been like 2 years... Archon Survival. Put in a bunch of writing, recorded audio logs and such, then everyone abandoned it ONE STEP before it got interesting :/

Anyways, I'm all for it.

-Emil Brandt-

   As the group was shepherded down a level, he could not help but not trust the man leading them.. But once they had reached their destination, a cafe in a railstation, one tier below, the man identified himself as a teacher. As much as it was, teachers were trustworthy, and had little political intent. He did not know this man, but the others in the group seemed relieved, so he allowed himself to relax a bit himself. Just as he had gotten settled in, a ghost from the past walked in. After the group from the Under finished speaking, he heard footsteps approaching from the distance, and took cover, as the others did.

"Bazarov? I thought you got executed last month for theft.." Emil says, gripping his old knife tightly, whether or not he could do any damage with it.

-Emil Brandt-

'Nasty shot, heh." 

Emil recoils as the rag is pressed against his wound, still a bit shocked by the last salvo from the zeppelin. He quickly turns, looking Alex over, gripping his knife tightly. After deciding that he was safe, he relaxes a little bit, pointing out the wound on his leg.

"My head's fine, see to that instead. Running is going to be very, very important, I think. We need to get to that alley, get deeper into the city. All we n-"

His words are torn out of his breath as a Zeppelin above combusts. Emil watches as the flaming skeleton falls out of his view, behind the building he had just escaped.

"Now's our chance!"

Emil motions for Alex to follow and darts into the street, the path to the alley only being a few good strides. He skids to a stop as the sight of soldiers appears in front of him. Instinctively, he takes cover against one of the buildings that made the mouth of the alleyway. He would turn to Alex.

"Soldiers.. We don't know who the Zeppelins belong to at this point, man. Stay down, don't take any chances. We gotta stay outta the streets."

He would look back into the alleyway, a wrought iron fence blocking their way. He steps into the alleyway, testing the gate.

"Locked. Sh*t." Emil would say, turning back to Alex.

"Keep an eye out for me, I'll get this open." 

Emil takes a set of tools out of his jacket's inner pockets and kneels down in front of the gate, getting to work on the lock. The sound of one of the rifles firing and the pained yell that followed from one of the soldiers only made him work faster, muttering curses as he goes.

-Emil Brandt-

   "Middle of the city'll have more cover, but once we're there we need to go down a tier or two! Barricade ourselves into a building or something, figure out what's going o-"

  Emil looks up to the Zeppelins before slamming himself back into cover, just as a salvo of rounds smashes into the side of the building above them, deafening Emil for a moment and forcing him down. He quickly scrambles to his feet, dust and bits of brick raining down on him. A piece of shrapnel had ricocheted around and struck the side of his head, albeit only slightly, forming a cut above his right brow, the wound producing a small stream of blood that would probably close up on its own in time.

   His sub-par rental tux was now covered in brick dust, and he found himself sprinting across the street. Before he knew what he was doing, he had dived into cover in front of the building opposite the group, towards the inner part of the city's tier. He was out of the Zeppelin's sightline, but that wouldn't help much if they decided to shoot some HE down on the street.

 Taking a moment to observe his immediate surroundings, he the building he was now next to was a library, and that it had a dark alleyway next to it, but getting to it was in the sightline of the zeppelin's guns.

Emil Brandt

   Emil was used to the thick, overbearing air that would threaten his survival over a night's sleep, clogged with coal, dust, and traces of radiation. He was used to the dangers that living and working on the lowest levels of the Monolith. No matter how many plates of lead were built between the lowest level and the ground, radiation was still a problem. So he did as he was told, kept taking his medications, worked in his sealed suit, and made sure his gas mask's filters were in good supply. Such was the life at the lowest level of the monolith.

   But today was different. Today, he wouldn't have to worry about pleasing the overseers. Today, he wouldn't have to worry about dying in his sleep to an enemy he couldn't see. Today, he had snuck out of work duty and up to the upper levels. He spent half a year's wages renting a tuxedo and cleaning himself up, making himself look half-presentable. Whether or not today was going to be the last he'd see of the upper levels, he'd enjoy every second. So he danced. So he drank. Enjoyed the fine food and company... But fate, it seemed, had another idea.

   It was so sudden. One second he was dancing with a beauty from the fourth level, the next he was standing wide-eyed as people were barreling into each other trying to get out of the ballroom, earning only a fate as a stain on the fine carpet.

 Emil shook himself out of the trance he was in and sprinted out of the room, through a side exit, following another lucky group of people. He arrived just as a carriage was departing, the men and women around him now armed with gauss rifles. He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls an old knife from its sheath, falling in with the group, taking cover on a corner of the brick building, looking up into the skies.

   The beast in the sky continuously shot off bursts of lead, the impact of the rounds landing close-by creating a cloud of snapping sounds around the group.

Emil looks around to the others in his newfound group, breathing hard, gripping his knife tightly.

"We can't stay in the streets, they'll light us up!"

Application Time

Forum name: Lykos

Roleplay Name: Emil Brandt

Skype name: LykosEatsDoritos

I agree to bear with you, no matter what you do or do not do. Character-focused rps are my schtick.

I'll go ahead and ask a question because yes.

Which LotC character/s, barring your own, would you like to hang out with in the real lifeses? FOR WHY?!

And since you're obviously a super MLG high-speed old'n'deep LotC'er, I've made a complimentary MLG pancake for you.

I've made it as retarded as I possibly could. Just for you.

While Elves can grow beards.. None shall surpass Native.

It's a law.

Where's Riolan

I don't need any voice acting (I can do it myself :P) but your vocaroo link isn't working.

-Sgt. Major 'T. Adler', Delta Force-

/Hanging the f*ck on/

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MxJ-lbW-udk

An alarming beep in his headset, a red light blinking on his wrist computer... Fire in the skies.

He hears his friend speaking on the radio, but cannot answer, his attention held by what was happening.

Adler jerked his head upwards, watching as one of Humanity's greatest triumphs of technology and strength floods his vision. It was burning, decimated. He and his squad merely blink as they hold their seats tightly, watching the show in front of them. The ship smashes into a skyscraper, taking a portion of the top clean off and showering anything below that in debris. It just so happened that both helicopters were in the splash zone. The building was poised to crash into them.

Adler yells into his mic

"EVASIVE MANEUVERS! The tower's coming down! Spearhead two, MOVE!"

His yelling would help no one. A piece of the building skewered into his friend's chopper, swatting it out of the sky like a bug. His worry for his comrades was pushed aside, now focusing on his own situation. Before he could tell his pilot about the downed chopper, before he could hunker down and pray to a deity he didn't believe in, a sharp slam went through the chopper, sending it reeling. A piece of the building had taken out the tail of the helicopter, the anti-torque rotor with it, sending the beast into a death spin. Some yelled, some growled, and some stayed silent. Adler and the crew chief were the only ones not to make any noise. They knew that bailing would do no good, so they held on.

Adler kept his eyes open, watching each moment as they crawled by. First he was looking at the sky, then he was looking at a rapidly-approaching city street. Citizens included.

There was a jerk and his vision become blurry... And he had found himself sprawled out on the floor. Not of the helicopter, it seemed. He remained conscious through the crash, but he did not know where he was. That was before regaining some of his sight and seeing that he had been thrown out of the helicopter by the impact, where skidded fifty feet away. The helicopter was a mangled wreck, and it was bathed in red. Fire and blood.

Adler went limp for a few minutes, his mind trying to catch up with what had just happened. It all came back quite quickly when he felt hands near his shoulder. He opened his eyes. Through his helmet's optics, he saw that he had been dragged and propped up against a wall, and there was a man in a torn up hoodie trying to pry his weapon out of his hands. Adler responded by quickly lunging up and punching the man in the face, putting him on the ground instantly. He jumped to his feet and brought the weapon to bear, but then disengaging and turning his eyes to the helicopter after realizing that the man was unconscious. He stumbled over to the helicopter, searching for survivors. The helicopter had taken a grisly path, skidding along the street as it crashed. If the fine paste of red was to believed, a few civilians did not exactly dodge the wreck.

He pried open the twisted metal, hoping to see anyone alive. He checks his wrist computer to see if anyone's vitals were still going, but he finds the thing's screen shattered. It could survive a gunshot, but not this, apparently. Grunting in frustration, he continues his search, but to no avail. There was nothing alive in here. He looks around to see a few civilians still sticking around, more shellshocked than he was... But right now, they were not of his concern. He brings his arm up to the side of his helmet, activating his radio.

"Viking one actual, Viking two actual, message, over."

...

He tries again.

"Viking one, this is Viking two, We've been downed, I'm the only one left, respond!"

...

"Tanner?"

...

Adler's radio had taken a little abuse, but seemed to be working for the time being... Though long range frequencies did not seem to transmit.

"Sh*t."

Adler looked at himself, checking his gear. Both he and his gear were mostly intact. The armor had done its job, and all he escaped with was ringing ears, dizziness, and a couple of broken ribs. The pouches on his stomach and chest had been torn away from him, grinded against the asphalt and the armor plating under them. The armor itself had held up, directing the force from the impact away from his body. Apart from a nasty looking skid mark, it was together. He still had his weapons, and still had his ruck. He turned and started jogging towards where he had saw the other helicopter get swatted down before stopping and giving one last look to the helicopter he had crashed with. He gives a salute to the wreckage and those still inside, then departs, knowing that he would not find more at the next wreckage.

All around him, the city made its suffering known. Screams and yells from the distance, massive explosions in the sky, the massive reports of the MAC cannons, as well as the occasional report of small arms fire. This was a war zone... Perhaps all of Earth would be, now. Adler shook his head and keeps moving, hugging the sides of buildings to keep out of the path of more debris, as well as potential attackers from the streets... As well as the skies.

--List of gear--

Clothing- Delta "Pointman" Armor / Lightly customized

/Ballistic plating+Impact Gel

/Tactical Pouches containing various gear

Delta BDU/ Lightly customized

 

Weapons-Primary

GMG-94 Machine Gun, 7.62mm - 75rnd drum magazine (x5) (AIMPOINT sight)

 

Weapons-Secondary

2k33 S&W "Wasp" .50AE, 6rnd magazine (x8) (Iron sight)

Emerson CQC-35 Combat knife

 

Weapons-Misc

Ymirtek Mk2 12ga breaching shotgun, 5rnd pump action (x20) (Iron sight)

 

x4 Semtex HE grenades

x2 flashbang

x1 Smoke grenade

x2 Signal flare

 

Gear- Provisions

x7 day Ration, food

x3 day ration, water

x4 Military bandages

x1 syringe- Morphine

 

Gear- Misc

x1 radio (long-range disabled)

x1 Delta helmet suite (Night vision/normal optics)

-SGT Major 'T. Adler', Delta Force-

/En Rout to Yankee Stadium via Transport Helicopter/

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z81KirL8fv8

---

   It was quite exciting, really. Flying in a military helicopter over New York City. He was more used to ruins and soon-to-be ruins. Perhaps this place would soon become the latter. It has been a long time since he's seen such a city.

Adler snaps himself out of his musings, instinctively gripping his GMG-94 light machine gun.

Adler checks his wrist-computer, scrolling through it with an armored finger. Reports show that the civilians had not taken the evacuation order too well, some rioting and looting. Worse yet, the police had lost their cool, engaging the rioters with lethal weaponry... Typical. This mess was just getting dirtier with each new report.

The sides of the helicopter opened, showing a rare sight indeed. The streets were packed with people, cars, and in some streets, fires and the flash of gunfire. The Crewchief motioned for the passengers to ready up, letting everyone know that they would soon reach their destination. Adler checked his weapons, checked his mags, and rechecked his armor. It was heavy and hard to run around in, but it could soak up punishment. The armor he was wearing now was pristine, right out of a shipping crate, but a suit just like it had served him through several conflicts and operations without fail.. He had already added a little bit of personalization here and there, A couple decals and an etching of tally marks on his neck guard numbering up to fifty-six.

Along with his already heavy gear, Adler also lugged around a small ruck containing rations, just like the others in his squad.

((already cleared with whitewolf. This is part of the story. EDIT: Armor has been changed by Whitewolf's decision. Too futuristic.))

will post later tonight, still at work

I'll get into this tomorrow. 4am now. Tired.

Finally a character-based forum rp... I can only hope that this gets noticed.  You may want to put out some statuses tomorrow to increase the chances of people taking a look over this... I'll help.

For timelines, any would make an entertaining rp. however, each has one or two details that could be small problems.

If anyone wanted to be a Sith during the Clonewars/Rebellion eras, it wouldn't be canon.

Buuut that is easily circumvented if we're going into our little own reality of canon that has sprinklings of non-canon, which is fun.

Actually, It's 2am and I'm exhausted, and in no condition to render advice or put together coherent sentences. Sleep time.

Count me interested.

If you water the lawn on Tuesday, why am I afraid of snails?

I don't know what this is.

Shall observe.

Including myself, it seems a lot of people didn't even know that FoU 2.0 even happened...

I only caught wind right after it died.

Am excite for resurrection. Errybody advertise, we need rpers... A dream team of rpers.

-80's inspirational music montage-

In like squid tentacle.

Well, if we're to restart it, we need more than 5 players... And for everyone to be dedicated to posting when they can, which while sounding really crappy and such, would stop a spiral of inactivity.

OOC- I am using my character Ral'Marasai. The same character from the last universes rp. Why? Because he's an awesome character that I love to rp with. eheghegheghehg.

Application--

Originating universe: Halo

Name: Ral'Marasai

Age: 79 (Still in his prime)

Height: 8'1"

Appearance: 

Marasai is a paragon of his species, is large, quick, and powerful, allowing himself to carry himself in his heavy armor, as well as several weapons at once.

 

He has black hide and amber eyes, wearing a black-tinted set of Ultra-rank armor.

Race: Sangheili

Gear: 

-Covenant Sangheili Combat Harness (Special Forces-black) (Ultra) (Reach-era)

-2x type-1 energy swords

-1x Needle Rifle

-2x Plasma grenade

-4 days food/water rations

Short Bio:

Marasai had fought the Humans before on many occasions. Various colony worlds, including a world housing a military academy for their young... But this was a Hub world. The humans called it Reach.

Seeking to attack the world only for a killcount, Marasai requested to fight the Humans not among the ranks of the Zealots, who fought only to find relics, but on the front lines, and was granted a position in the fight as an Ultra, putting him in charge of a unit. The battle went well, with the Humans faltering under their strength. They fought admirably, but in the end, their courage fell to the Sangheili's fury. Marasai lead his unit through the Human defenses, pushing them back until they were forced off of the planet.

Where are they currently?: Marasai is currently fighting a lone-surviving Spartan III in a dust-choked wasteland along with several other Sangheili.

((sorry if this ain't my usual quality, it's just that one can only write a fresh backstory for a recurring character so many times.

I personally think Deco's stable rp is f*cking great. And it is just that- RP. Rp, where some players could have, and have indeed treated the situation as an ooc situation.

I also personally believe that if someone wants to take the idea of making a horse stable and makes a huge farce out of it, with minimal or lackluster rp, including the rp behind how one spontaneously buys, builds, and maintains a stable, it's their own damned problem... And that it should be treated as just that- a problem.

In my mind, this is just like having someone be a master warrior. You do not spontaneously become a master warrior. It takes a lot of rp leading up to the title, as well as a lot of rp to maintain it. And if you're bad at it and don't know how to act like one, it'll turn out that a lot of people around you will be pretty damn upset. And yeah, anyone CAN be a master warrior, but should everyone and their mother be one? History has taught me that that situation can get everyone involved, and even people who aren't, really, REALLY pissed off.

It's nearly 6am and I havnt slept yet... So... Potato.