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Eternal Universe (ARCHIVE, Sign-up in OOC)

For all of your non-NationStates related roleplaying needs!
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Isle of Lithonia
Negotiator
 
Posts: 5024
Founded: Nov 20, 2013
Ex-Nation

Eternal Universe (ARCHIVE, Sign-up in OOC)

Postby Isle of Lithonia » Wed Jan 16, 2019 12:25 pm

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OOC

There, good enough?
NPCs

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Name: Genurahl Mozesh Bickenmahker (yes, that is how he spells it, and pronounces it)

Age: 69 (the shmexiest age of them all)

Gender, Sex, and Sexuality: Cis-male, probably hetero

Personality: Mozesh is coo-coo for Cocoa Nuts (patent pending). Tends to think he's the best and brightest, and that his half-baked plans will always work. Just be prepared for the confusion that will ensue.

Skills: Skills huh? Well, he's got money. That's about it.

Faction: Republic

Operator Class: None

Mech Class: Nada

Equipment and Weapons: Money.

Bio: Mozesh once was a brilliant military tactician, and served as a general of the army for over thirty years. But a few years ago, he got partially lobotomized by a bot who thought it would be hilarious to fuck around with a human brain, and then sent on his way home.

Not sure how he survived the trek, honestly. But for the sake of the story, he did. But his brain was mushy, and he was forcibly retired. Out of gratitude for his service though, the Republic gave him quite a lot of muns, and let him do as he pleased with it.
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Player Rank: Commander

RP Examples: TKaG, Lith and Friends Summer Vacay, Of Grades and Grenades, Grim Reaper Academy, and so on.



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Name: Jacelyn "Marauder" Grim

Age: Mid thirties. Probably.

Height: 5'9"

Gender, Sex, and Sexuality: Cis-female, Bisexual

Personality: Marauder is the embodiment of a proper military officer. Mostly.

With the air of a professional, she keeps people in line and on task. And when particularly rebellious individuals question her, she will calmly explain to them the orders and why they should follow it rather than begin berating them for their obvious stupidity.

In all situations where her input isn't required, she tends to keep to herself, reading her book and contemplating existence. Or something like that. Whatever the case may be, it's not that easy to get to know her well.

Faction: Kronos

Operator Class: Soldier

History Class: Officer

Mech Class: Priest

Equipment and Weapons: Mech weapons: Plasma charge shotgun (takes time to charge, but fires a massive spread of plasma), drill arm

Personal weapons: folding laser sword, (level 5) plasma shotgun, (level epic)slug pocket pistol (level 4)

Equipment: Jug of 99% alc/vol homemade booze, a couple containers of unknown (to you) substances and a syringe integrated into her wrist bracer, and a separate syringe just in case, a leather-bound copy of Alexander Grim's Reflections on Morality: the Struggle for Survival, military issued winter combat suit, personal tablet


Bio: “Though life may be cruel, and existence may be empty of meaning, this cruelty grants us the greatest opportunity of all. We may now reach true divinity.

We are gods. We who create purpose, we who give birth to meaning, we who give reason and emotion to the cosmos. We are gods. Or perhaps we are even greater.” -Alexander Grim

Thirty-one years ago, Jacelyn Grim was born into the bowels of the Criminal Underworld of the Republic. Her mother, Haley Grim, was the Boss of the PMC known as Kronos. To call this organization shady would be an understatement. The soldiers employed tended to be violent criminals, and their clients most often were powerful drug lords and corrupted politicians. However, Kronos had been called upon several times by the Republic to help quell uprisings among the populace, and at points even helped take down several crime bosses that had become too powerful (although it is speculated this was because they were personal enemies of the company).

From the moment she was named (for Jacelyn Grim was the name of the destroyer of the old world), little Jacelyn was destined for glory. Looking down at the innocent baby cooing in her arms, Haley believed she would end this world, and usher in a new era of freedom for the entire human race. No longer would this Republic be needed, for all would be free, and all would be as gods.

Growing up the daughter of a crime boss was perhaps different than some might think. Little Jacelyn was safe from harm (her mother made sure of it), given quite the extensive education (particularly in the realm of philosophy), and had many little friends (some of whom mysteriously disappeared when the parents made her mother angry). But once she became old enough to properly handle a firearm, things changed.

In the basement of her mother’s company building, little Jacelyn was handed her first gun. It was called “The Last Resort”. A small pistol for an adult, but it just fit in her hands. “My beautiful Jacelyn, come stand here with me.”

Obediently she walked over to her mother, when she noticed a look she had never seen before. Her mother’s eyes were just… different. They weren’t sad, angry, happy. They had no emotion at all. That...that she had never seen before.

“I need you to shoot at those targets, just like in the games you play. The gun is going to be loud, but that’s okay. I need you to be strong. I believe in you.”

Shaking hands holding up her pistol, Little Jace aimed downrange, and “BLAM!”

Her ears were ringing, searing pain screaming through her tiny body. She wanted to cry, but she felt her mother’s breath as she told her, “You are stronger than the pain. Fight it.”

Again she fired, the ringing and pain worse than before. She fell into her mother’s arms, but was gently placed upright again. “Fight it.”

After a few minutes, the ringing began to subside a little. Her mother began to speak again. “Remember how I wanted you to become an artist? Today you will begin your journey to become the greatest of all artists.”

Doors opened behind her, making Jacelyn crane her head in time to see a man, bound and gagged, being dragged toward her. “Death is a precise art, and loosing it on your enemy requires focus and innate skill.” The man gave muffled pleas for help, tears streaming down his bloody and beaten face. The poor girl’s eyes widened, heart racing, a silent scream suppressed. “The carnage left behind may seem senseless and scattered, but to a true artist, each slaughter portrays the violent, primal nature of mankind upon a sickeningly beautiful canvas.”

Held in place, the man’s arms were outstretched, reaching into the infinity of space. Jacelyn fought down bile. She knew. “Few works of art could depict this harsh reality as deeply.”

Feeling something puncture her skin, she looked down at her arm, seeing her mother injecting her with some red liquid through a syringe. Fear, terror, tears...all disappeared in that moment.

She knew.

“Are you an artist?”

She pointed the pistol at him.

“BLAM!”

Every day since, her mother trained her. The proper mix of stims and chems was found, and Jacelyn always took her proper dosage. Emotions had been greatly suppressed, replaced with a fondness of killing. Not as in a bloodthirsty rampage. No, she was calm, steady, rational. She knew what she wanted, and she knew how and when to receive it.

When she officially joined the ranks of Kronos at the age of 17, her mother started her at the bottom rung. The future Boss of Kronos must rise through the ranks on her own, she can’t be given an unfair advantage. And so she started as a security officer, guarding small-time drug dealers and prostitute dens. A horrible job for some, but she didn’t care. She wanted to become a Boss. And she would do whatever it took to become one.

She moved up quickly, eventually joining the Kronos Secret Police unit, killers hired out by only the most powerful people in the Republic. Few matched her kill count, fewer still at her age.

But Kronos finally overstepped their bounds, attempting to assassinate the Prime Minister in a bid to take over the Republic. No-one knows who gave that order, but Republic spies dug up enough evidence to let the Military round up the leaders of Kronos, and give them a life sentence to the high-security coal mines deep in the caverns below (a fate said to be worse than death).

Jacelyn would never see her mother again.

On the run from the law, Jacelyn took the name Marauder, and ran deep into the underworld. Biding her time, and running small-time drug-pushing operations, she managed to keep her nose “clean” enough to be ignored by the law enforcement of the area, even sending some bribes their way to keep them off her ass.

Eventually the storm blew over, and she was able to reconnect with the remnants of Kronos.

Currently she is working with the Boss Jeremy Mark to rebuild Kronos, and bring an end to the corrupt reign of the Oligarchs in the Republic.
Last edited by Isle of Lithonia on Sun Mar 03, 2019 1:05 pm, edited 9 times in total.
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The GAmeTopians
Powerbroker
 
Posts: 8611
Founded: May 12, 2014
Democratic Socialists

Postby The GAmeTopians » Sat Jan 19, 2019 8:43 am

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Name: Cliohna O’Mooney

Age: 19

Gender, Sex, and Sexuality: Female, Female, Bisexual

Personality: Fiery Temper, Quick-witted, Methodical

Skills:
Combat: Basic Gun Training, Skilled Sniper, Knife Combat
Career: Mechanical Engineering (Specializes in Mech tech, otherwise competent in other categories)
Misc: Can out-drink most anybody

Faction: The Republic

Operator Class: Scientist

Mech Class: Personal Mech Suit

Equipment and Weapons: Railgun Sniper Rifle, Conventional SMG (see appearance), Plasma knife (used for both combat and science-y-scavenge-y work), Scanning Device, Tablet Computer

Bio: The O’Mooney family is one of the few Republic lineages to have stood the test of time, amidst radioactive and robotic dangers alike. To be sure, they were not “old money” by any means, if there even was such a thing amidst the universal struggle that almost everyone faced, but it did mean that Cliohna grew up with more family than many - almost all of whom were scientists. It was only natural, then, that she take the same route. The family toys, from scanners to computers, were made available to her throughout her education, preparing her for the horrors that lurked around every corner. That education, combined with her inheritance of her predecessors’ hot tempers, would prove to make her adventures interesting to say the least.
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Shyluz wrote:Ah, well. How many booms do you want?

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Iceland-Norway-Denmark
Lobbyist
 
Posts: 21
Founded: Jan 11, 2019
Ex-Nation

Postby Iceland-Norway-Denmark » Sat Jan 19, 2019 9:41 am

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Name:Angela Harrison

Age:27

Gender, Sex, and Sexuality: Female, Female, Heterosexual

Personality:A thrill seeker who's naturally friendly and energetic but also capable of casual violence and deception if it forwards her goals.

Skills: Good tactician, capable of basic maintenance and repairs to her mecha, talented in CQC .

Faction:Eternal Republic

Operator Class:Soldier

Mech Class:Priest

Equipment and Weapons:A personal defence weapon (straddles the line between SMG and assault rifle, something like a P90)
Frag grenades.
Saex Knife
Heavy mech plasma cannon
Entrenching tool (for digging a hiding place from the storm
Warm cloths with integrated light armour
Mecha is equipped with a kind of giant rucksack for storing basic goods like fuel, food and water.


Bio: Angela left home in her mid teens and joined a group of scavengers, heading out into the wastes on foot to search for any bits of resources and old tech they could get their hands on. She did well for her self, a resilient person she grew to be a valuable member of the group as well as finding her ruthless streak when it came to dealing with those who threatened them. Rising up in the world she was riding her own mecha as part of the scavenger group, continuing to help protect them and search for resources. But Angela could never resist the chance at greater adventure so when the commander of a group of soldiers in the field offered her the chance to ride with them in a real mecho-war she took him up.

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The Hoosier Alliance
Diplomat
 
Posts: 951
Founded: Mar 17, 2016
Ex-Nation

Postby The Hoosier Alliance » Sat Jan 19, 2019 11:16 am

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Name: Daryl Madison

Age: 18

Gender, Sex, and Sexuality: Male, heterosexual

Personality: Daryl is a quiet man that prefers to be alone. He is generally calm and collected, but his temper can occasionally get the better of him. He tries to enjoy life as much as he can and takes a rather laid back approach to most aspects of life.

Skills: Decent survivalist, basic mechanical knowledge, basic first aid skills

Faction: Eternal Republic

Operator Class: Scavenger

Mech Class: Personal Mech Suit

Equipment and Weapons:
Equipment:
    Binoculars
    Canteen
    Compass
    Rope
    Food
    Water
    Multitool
    Weapon cleaning kit

Weapons:
    Revolver
    Scoped rifle (in pic)
    AK-47
    Hunting knife

Bio: Daryl was orphaned at young age and hardly remembers his parents. So, most of his life he has been alone on the streets. He committed petty crimes to get by, stealing food and such to get by. He also scavenged broken items from the garbage and either cannibalized them for parts or repaired and resold them. His life was not a luxurious, but he got by well enough. Eventually, he saved up enough to purchase himself some equipment, including his trusty rifle, and began to adventure out into the world in search for things to scavenge. Daryl scours the landscape for anything useful and sells everything he can't use himself. He eventually found a personal mech suit in the industrial sector which he spent weeks trying to repair and bring to working order. Once he did, Daryl started taking more chances, staying out longer, and was more willing to engage others for the precious resources they were competing for. Scavenging and fighting has made up much of his recent time, and he makes sure he enjoys the little things. The little bottles of alcohol he's able to purchase now and then, the books he sometimes finds or buys that keep him entertained, even the quiet of world when he stops to rest in old buildings above ground. It's not much, but it's what he's got.

He lives in a small, run down apartment in the Republic. It's cold, damp, and probably has mold and insects everywhere. Still, it's home. Above ground, Daryl has created a small hideout to stash some of his gear, stocked it with emergency supplies, and uses it as a fallback in case something ever goes wrong. He's booby trapped and hidden the entrance to the best of his abilities. Daryl spends a decent amount of time there, almost as much as he spends at home underground.
I prefer dangerous freedom over peaceful slavery
- Thomas Jefferson
What country can preserve its liberties if their rulers are not warned from time to time that their people preserve the spirit of resistance? Let them take arms
- Thomas Jefferson
Loyalty to country ALWAYS. Loyalty to government, when it deserves it
-Mark Twain
They that can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety
- Benjamin Franklin
To disarm the people is the most effectual way to enslave them
-George Mason
I ask who are the militia? They consist now of the whole people.
-George Mason

Nation doesn't represent my views.
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Endem
Minister
 
Posts: 3117
Founded: Aug 19, 2018
Left-Leaning College State

Postby Endem » Sun Jan 20, 2019 11:23 pm

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The Artwork belongs to user of platform ArtStation under nickname Eugene Postebaylo, i do not intend to use it in any commercial way


Name: Tobias Braun

Age: 32

Gender, Sex, and Sexuality: Male, Male, ( Another one ) Asexual

Personality:
Tobias has depression attacks from time to time.
He is, by all means, phlegmatic, taking his sweet time to get what is needed to be scavenged.
He is also a careful person, most, if not all scavenged goods were brought back with him as he found them.

Skills:
Eagle-eyed: if something is to be found somewhere he will see it
Survivalist: as a scavenger, he needs to be one
Melee Training: In another case why would he carry a sword everywhere
Sniper Training: Just look up the skills and replace word "sword" with "Hunting Rifle"

Faction: Eternal Republic

Operator Class:Scavenger

Mech Class: Personal Mech Suit

Equipment and Weapons:
Sword
Hunting Rifle
Backpack
Binoculars
Map
Medkit
Some Food and Water for a couple of days

Bio: When Tobias was 14 his parents disappeared in a blizzard, not believing they could have died he joined scavenger group, for a couple of years his group traveled the wastes, Tobias would still travel with them if he didn't on one occasion find his parents frozen corpses, it broke him, he wanted to take his own life but eventually resigned from a suicide attempt and made his way to the Eternal Republic where his scavenger skills were put to work, he is a very successful scavenger, most of his expeditions brought something good, maybe he doesn't bring an Energy Tube or a Plasma Gun all time but still he is a strong bet if something needs to be got from the wastes, when not scavenging he also runs a store in which he sells everything he found during his expeditions and what he, of course, was allowed to keep from them.
Last edited by Endem on Wed Jan 23, 2019 11:04 am, edited 1 time in total.
*insert cliche signature here*

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Saleon
Powerbroker
 
Posts: 8628
Founded: Mar 12, 2015
Ex-Nation

Postby Saleon » Thu Jan 31, 2019 9:28 pm

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Name: Arguna Froster

Age: 41

Gender, Sex, and Sexuality: Girl, female, homosexual

Personality: Generally pessimistic and lacking in empathy. She has a penchant for cigarettes and usually ignores no smoking signs. It would be best to describe herself as jaded, especially after losing much of her combat capability after she lost significant portions of her body. She isn’t often open to others, unless they can get past her hardened exterior. She also likes cute things and secretly likes pink.

She may be generally unlikeable (at least at first), but has a hidden adventurous part and will do as much as she can to keep her allies alive. She often works as a support unit that informs Operators of concerns relating to their mechs along with maintaining each mech. She also can be a little overzealous about mech units.

Skills:
  • Machine-Learning: Advanced knowledge of technology, including mechs and robotics. Able to identify weak points, vantage points, blind-spots, and structural stress on robotic entities.
  • Former Field Engineer: skill with close-ranged weapons. Arbitrary knowledge of the gun-fu. Experience piloting and repairing mechas.
  • Energy Intensive: Bionic body parts require constant supply of energy tubes or they lose functioning. The arm and leg require one tube each and usually last about 8-10 hours. Each arm also requires regular maintenance and repairs.
  • Eagle in the Sky: Able to check and relay information about each individual mech in real time, as long as each mech does not lose comms relays. Able to oversee and monitor combat through information uplinks and visuals through cameras on each mech.
  • Robotic Distrust: outside of being gay, her bionic arm and leg often can lead to a general distrust of her. People sometimes avoid her due to her robotic body parts and often gets casually denigrated for her fascination with machines.


Faction: Member of the Liberal Party Republic

Operator Class: Engineer Scientist

Mech Class: None.

Equipment and Weapons:
  • Bionic arm
  • Bionic leg
  • Holdout hidden in heel of leg.
  • Uplink Overlay ValkeRie Systems Eyepatch
  • Plasma Pistols
  • Variety of multi-colored small Energy Tubes.
  • Engineering kit.
  • Cigarettes


Bio:
Arguna was a former operator of a Priest-class Mech. She worked as an on-field tactician and was often up to the task. At first, she was bright and welcoming, if a bit bashful.

During a salvage run, she was separated from her unit after part of the ceiling collapsed, leaving her alone from the rest of them. While she maintained radio communication, she was alone. She had to find a way to get back to them. She scuffled by herself, part of her weapons system having been damaged in the collapse. The right arm of her mechsuit had been damaged, and one of the legs was quite weakened from the impact.

She entered a large room that seemed to connect the large corridors of the building. Her group was hopefully soon to reach her. Unfortunately, the large room was also the perfect place to set up a trap. Empire mechs quickly stormed the room, attempting to score an easy target. Arguna shot an explosive round at the ceiling of the entryway, causing the ceiling to collapse, but she wasn’t able to stop them all in their tracks. One mech was able to pass through before she could block the way. It quickly blast through her mech’s defense systems with much of her energy tank already leaking energy. The dieselmech was able to shoot the leaking energy tank. The structural damage was critical. The best Arguna could do was to detach the tank and attempt to throw it loose. It was going to explode, considering the damage.

While she was able to detach it, the tank exploded directly in the face of both mechs. Arguna was able to knock out the dieselmech, but the head-first explosion caused serious damage to her cockpit, her arm and leg having been smashed by the wreckage.

Her squad was able to rescue her, but she was unfit for combat. She fashioned bionic body parts to replace her own. Unfortunately, the trauma left her distant and jaded. She continued to work on mechs, but she didn’t seem as cheery as before. She also suffers from frequent insomnia due to nightmares.
Last edited by Saleon on Tue Feb 05, 2019 9:11 pm, edited 4 times in total.
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Rodez
Diplomat
 
Posts: 743
Founded: Oct 18, 2016
Corrupt Dictatorship

Postby Rodez » Tue Feb 12, 2019 3:19 pm

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Player Rank: Veteran

RP Examples: 1 2 3 A sci-fi RP of mine that never got off the ground



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Name: Russell 'Russ' Kennard

Age: 32

Height: 5'11"

Gender, Sex, and Sexuality: Male, heterosexual

Personality: Russ is a genuinely good-hearted individual, but that generally isn't readily apparent. His more compassionate side is buried beneath a heavy dose of cynicism and skepticism. He happily opens up to those he trusts with a bit of dark humor and teenage-tier pranks- but he doesn't trust easily, having long since been taught that one needs to keep their head on a swivel if they are going to survive the surface. Even when he is apparently happy, Russ may come across as a bit melancholy, since he has begun to tire of his life and the restraints placed on it.

Faction: Eternal Republic

Operator Class: Adventurer

History Class: Explorer

Mech Class: Personal mech suit

Equipment and Weapons: Colt 1911 (Level 3 sidearm)

Sabre Mk. IV Laser DMR (level 5)

Bio: Russell Elijah Kennard was born into one of the more distinguished families in the Republic, the son and second child of James and Lucy Kennard. His older sister Sadie was eight when he was born, and was already indoctrinated into the ideology of the Republic, which his parents were fanatical supporters of. For whatever reason, though, an educational program designed for one of the state's favored sons never took hold in his mind. He made friends with troublemakers, and enemies with the peers that would have helped him climb up the career ladder in adulthood.

When Russell was sixteen, Sadie was killed in the service of the Republic's armed forces while fighting bots. Her death destroyed the romanticism of the military for him, and fatefully took him off what had been his expected career path. He became estranged from his parents in the aftermath, and fell in with a freelance adventurer named Tybalt Jurisic, a grizzled explorer in his forties.

Tybalt tutored Russell on how to survive and fight effectively on the surface, and soon took the young man on as his protege. Within a few years they had forged a tight bond, and Tybalt became the father figure that Russell felt he had been lacking. The two men had many adventures together over the course of the next decade, including an abortive attempt to infiltrate Heaven's Tower and the discovery of a cache of mechs in the Industrial Sector.

The duo worked indirectly for the Republic, revealing the location of their discoveries in exchange for profit. Tybalt however was deeply skeptical of the supposedly democratic government, and his political cynicism ended up rubbing off on Russell, who came to regard the state he served as infinitely corrupt - far from humanity's best hope.

Five years ago, Russell and Tybalt were working to uncover an old vault in the mountains when they were set upon by a horde of Creeps. Russell was unable to save his mentor, who flung him back down the mountain trail while he battled the creatures to the death.

Later it was discovered by the Republic's intelligence services that Tybalt had been involved with Kronos. Russell came under suspicion for being a double agent and was arrested. His imprisonment lasted several months before the authorities were compelled to release him for lack of evidence. The whole experience further embittered Russell towards the Republic; but for now he continues to work for them as an adventurer, hunting for new treasures and locations on the surface, while ever mindful of the fact that he is probably still being watched by the authorities. This life is starting to wear on him - for some time, Russell has been searching for a new adventure that will take him far, far away from Hope.
Formerly known as Mesrane (Mes), now I'm back
Joined April 2014

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Theyra
Negotiator
 
Posts: 5480
Founded: Aug 29, 2015
Democratic Socialists

Postby Theyra » Sun Feb 17, 2019 1:45 pm

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Player Rank: Veteran

RP Examples: 1 2 3 4(first and most sussucful rp)



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Name: Nathan Vale
Age: 30

Height: 5'9

Gender, Sex, and Sexuality: Male, Male, Straight

Personality: Nathan can be a loner if he wants to, liking to be alone at times to think or work on his engineering ideas. Not making much of effort to make friends. He can be social with others, and he does enjoy talking and being around what friends he had made though he can be secretive about personal details and what he really feels. At his core, he is a friendly person that likes to help those in need. Nathan is a loyal person but, once that trust is broken, it is very hard to regain his trust. That and he can be a stubborn person that once he makes his mind up about something, it is very hard to dissuade him from it.

Faction: Eternal Republic for now

Operator Class: Engineer

History Class: Field Engineer

Mech Class: Priest-class mech

Equipment and Weapons: Mech weapons: plasma rifle and laser sword
Normal: Beretta Cx4 Storm carbine with a foregrip, sling, and a reflex sight, pack of cards, engineering tools, several journals containing engineering ideas, welder goggles, digital/analog watch.

Bio: Nathan was born to a poor family in the Eternal Republic, the first of three children. His life was hard, to say the least, every day was a struggle as the family barely had enough to survive. Nathan took odd jobs when he was old enough to help his family, ranging from safe jobs to very dangerous ones that have left Nathan with a few scars to remember them by. Unfortunately, it was not almost enough, when Nathan was thirteen, his sister caught a bad illness. Despite Nathan's and his family efforts to afford the medical costs to save her. They failed, and she died a soon time after. Nathan took her death hard and was depressed for a time.
During which two things happened to him, one was that his parents noticed that Nathan would take his time to tinker with whatever junk or scrap metal was laying around. Some of his tinkerings were able to function like his first creation was a clock. They recognize his potential pushed him to continue his tinkering, hoping his talents can get him a better future.

The other thing that happened to Nathan as he was growing up was anger towards the Eternal Republic. Even though he later employed by them as an engineer and would accompany military patrols. He would grow to resent the corruption and the big difference between the rich and the poor. How can the Eternal Republic be humanity's last hope if this is how the republic is like. Questions like that and others filled his head though he did little to act on them. What could he do, what could a field engineer could do to change things. There have to be someplace else that could be better than the Eternal Republic and the Heavenly Empire. But, where and how could such a place be located? He figured a new city would have to be made to achieve what he wants but, he does not know how he can get the people and resources to do such a thing and without the Eternal Republic knowing. Though the idea never left his mind and the urge to do something about it would grow over the years. Perhaps he may try to act out his ideas, though when it up to him.

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The Empire of Tau
Minister
 
Posts: 2344
Founded: Dec 19, 2016
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby The Empire of Tau » Sun Feb 17, 2019 11:25 pm

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Player Rank: Rookie

RP Examples: You seen my example.



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Name: Jerry A. Beagle

Age: 18

Height: 5’2

Gender, Sex, and Sexuality: Male, It’s Complicated

Personality: Jerry outlook on life is oddly optimistic despite Jerry being bounded to a wheelchair and having a neurological damage - stopping Jerry from doing exciting things that a adventurer or a scavenger would do. Jerry express childlike wonder when discovering new stuffs and never gets enraged. He always speaks softly and calmly. Jerry is not fond of seeing unjustified murder or injustice done, but is used to it. Jerry, even when threatened with harm or like wise, will always stand for what he think is right. Jerry is idealistic in nature, refusing to back down from his interpreted beliefs of equality, liberty, and justice.

Faction: Eternal Republic

Operator Class: Engineer

History Class: Mechanic

Mech Class: N/A

Equipment and Weapons: T-One Power Armor : Salvaged from the scrapyards of the slums, the T-One is the name given by Jerry to his suit of power armor. While it is not exactly factory-quality (the whole thing is jerry-rigged) - it is something that allows Jerry to walk. The T-One has a air-filter, armor (able to stop eight 7.62mm NATO rounds), hydraulics, etc, to make the thing function and allow for surface exploration.

MISTA : Jerry’s 44. Magnum. Like things, it is also jerry-rigged.

Machine Tools : Within Jerry’s hidden house of wonders is a lot of machine tools. They allow Jerry to create precision parts that otherwise would be hard to gather. Ranging from milling machines to other stuff...Look I’m just generalizing here. If Jerry needs spare parts and gears then he can make them. Of course, most of his parts are not exactly good quality as most of his metals come from the scrapyards, but it is better than nothing.

Is that a Computer? : While Jerry is good at math, a single man can’t do crazy maths. That’s where his computer comes in. Well, it’s more of just a calculator but are computers not just big calculators? Anyhow, Jerry’s computer is a bit slow (a product of the fact, like most things that Jerry has, it’s jerry-rigged with nuts and scrap). You better get a movie ready because it’ll take a few hours to run the numbers. It’s not the best but it’s something.

Bio:
Born into the slums of the lower levels of Hope City - Jerry lived within the most shittest conditions that one can think of. Power shortages, no clean water, barely any food and always the constant threat of crime and random murder, etc, etc. Not the best of times. Especially for Jerry. Her mother, Insky E. Dwell, was a mechanic that took up odd-jobs, and sole protector and provider to Jerry. Everything that defines Jerry’s ideology and thinking comes from was her. This is how Jerry quickly got into the field of engineering and adopted the ideals of liberalism/socialism. While life was a struggle for both persons - Jerry and Dwell managed to make the best of their situation.

Years pass as the two still move about their lives. Nothing of real interest occurs, but a few minor points to note. Jerry managed to find books on history of past ages (modern history) and finding a old power-armor frame of some sorts at 14. Dwell has her second children named Amy. Jerry finds a hidden place within the slums that lets him do his work at 15. Not much.

Things gets more spicy (aka worse) at the year of 16 for Jerry. While heading off to the market with his mother - a terror bombing happened. Conducted by religious fanatics with no regard to their life or others - Dwell would get killed in the blast. Jerry also got hit, but only a leg crippled and the case of neurological damage (gaining Myoclonus - don’t mind the fact that most people gain Myoclonus by birth like me, but I got a bit lazy with the writing. Shhhhhhh.) This event was not the best of times as anyone can see. Lucky, Jerry recovered, but has a bad case of feels about his mother. Now in a wheelchair, Jerry also had to take care of Amy. Fun times.

For the 2 years, Jerry did a lot things. Let’s get started. First, Jerry had to get a job to support Amy. So, Jerry said “fuck it” and created a basic-power-grid in his slum. He then just asked for a very small rent on that power. Next, he wanted to walk again, but getting leg augmentations was not in reach. So, Jerry also said “fuck it” and revisited that old power-armor-frame that he found at the age of 14 - working on it from time to time. He then did other stuff..umm, ye, stuff. Now forward to today. Jerry is not homeless, but his home is kinda shit and smells like shit & he still taking care of his sister, among other stuff.

User avatar
Sebuyatsu
Secretary
 
Posts: 27
Founded: Feb 12, 2019
Ex-Nation

Postby Sebuyatsu » Mon Feb 18, 2019 7:14 pm

Character App



Player Rank: Veteran

RP Examples:
"That's it, she's out of oil."

Jean looked be him as the looming metal behemoth choked out a few last clouds of rolling black smoke and the once strong growling of the engines calming to steadily quieting whirr. The old, scarred mech creaked slowly to it's knees, chassis draped in heavy sheets of packed snow and ice that barely left the stenciled name of the tired beast visible - Momma Hog.

"So what do we do now?" Jean asked over his shortwave radio as the steel behemoth quietly kneeled down to rest its' knees in the shallow snow.
"What do you think we do?" his radio crackled in reply "We walk."

That last resort had been on 2nd Lt. Jeans' mind the past restless days and nights. The two of them had been in a marathon game of cat and mouse with bands of feral large 'bots, making repeating night marches and only stopping briefly to rest during blizzards. Jean's mech had died before Momma Hog, his own poor Longlegs tipping into a deep, snow filled gully where it would never be recovered and was mournfully scuttled. Momma at least had a some hope of recovery, if the oil, time, and manpower ever was available. It seemed unlikely at best, and this would be Momma's resting place.

"So do we scuttle her or leave her?" Jean asked back over the radio, and was met with the cracking of ice as the mech's cockpit opened up. Cpt. Muzukashi was made of remarkably stern stuff, the strain of the last seventy plus hour chase absent from his limbs or voice as he clambered out of his mecha. The stout captain opened up the gear trunk and grabbed everything he needed before leaving the Hog, slinging a messenger back of supplies over one shoulder and a rifle over the other.

The obvious answer was to rig the old girl to blow and leave her as a worthless statue buried in the snow, but that was one of the few things the Captain couldn't bring himself to do.

"She's in control lock - anyone tampers with the cockpit and she'll go up." the Captain said, puffing out clouds of steam between every few words, looking back to the abandoned machine "I think she can be saved."

Jean wanted to just be safe and destroy the old girl, but he knew what it would take to convince Muzukashi otherwise; it would just be better to save his breath for the long trek ahead. Behind him, the cockpit quietly creaked shut as she went into permanent standby, and he could almost see a flicker of pain across the Captain's stony complexion as it shut. Neither of them were in good enough shape to try to rucking back to base, both of them completely exhausted from the days before, but the only other real option was leave their bodies up here in the snow with their machines. It was worth a shot anyway, death was just as certain walking back as it was waiting for rescue that would never come. They both understood this, and after a new solemn moments of the wind whispering through the quiet, snow-dusting street, Muzukashi set off with Jean following close behind him.

Neither spoke as they walked back in a mutual, understood silence, just listening for any sign of approaching danger and the quiet crunch of their boots pushing through the snow. Jean hadn't been able to feel much of his legs well before Muzukashi's mech died, walking before it in an advance guard just like he did when Longlegs was still standing. It was only through the occasional shots of pain from below his knees could he figure out if it was just exhaustion or the cold numbing his legs, eventually giving up and accepting it was a mix of both. Jean needed something to keep his mind of their journey, just mechanically putting one leg in front of the other as the he felt his muscles, fiber by fiber, weakening and shuddering. He tried to think of anything to keep his thoughts off the creeping tiredness from the pain, following behind the captain in his implacable strides. Every time he looked up from the snow or his thoughts, Muzukashi was a little farther ahead of him, even though he swore he was keeping pace with the stockier man.

But Jean managed to keep one leg in front of the other as a sleepless stupor slowly took over his mind. He hardly noticed as his pace slowed down and how the creeping cold numbness was spread up through his hips and arms, his heart pounding and fluttering to keep himself moving and alive. Everything was hazy, only briefly snapping out of it as with the soft sound of his rifle falling into the snow. He picked it up with trembling hands and arms, the normally lightweight weapon feeling slippery and heavy in his burning arms. Jean looked up, and the captain was round a hundred paces ahead, just staring back.

Muzukashi had scene this sad scene play out far too many times to hope it would have a different ending. Jean had been lagging behind for a while which was not surprising given how far he walked the day before. But even now it was just the same tragic sight - he was stumbling, muscles shaking in exhaustion as they try to eek out another contraction without rest or food. His breathing was shallow and desperate and he moved with slow, sleepy gait. He just stood there, watching as Jean clumsily picked up his rifle and tried to sling it over his shoulder, and kept walking towards him. The poor young man wouldn't make it forty steps.

At twenty paces, Jean's rifle slipped from his shoulder again and he stopped, having to try several times to pick it up again and just holding it in front of himself like he was expecting to use it. This was just muscle memory, and not a real conscious decision. Jean's steps began to slow down again, taking a great deal of effort to keep lifting them and swinging in front of him. An old, long ignored part of Muzukashis' heart wanted to go back and help the exhausted lieutenant through the snow, but the parts of him that had kept him alive to make it to captain knew that it was hopeless. Just standing here and letting the poor soul have some hope before the cold took him was the kindness thing he could do for him.

At forty three paces Jean tried to take another step forward and collapsed face first into the snow, instantly disappearing into the cold white void. A deep bolt of pain shot across the captain's heart as he watched his promising young friend fall, wanting to help him home but keeping his feet firmly in place. Jean would not stand again, and he wouldn't keep walking. Muzukashi turned, and kept walking while he could. This was something too sorrowful and tragic, even for him, to endure. Each death like this weighed heavily on his heart and shoulders, but he had to keep moving forward. He muttered out prayers beneath his breaths, trying to get some blessings for his friend before the cold took him. Even then, he had to choke back tears as he muttered the last rights for his friend, head mournfully bowed to the snow as he marched forward.

"Let the end of this life be the beginning of a new one, in a place warm and free of ice and snow under the gaze of our Guardians."

Muzukashi took one last look back where Jean lied in the snow as a gentle snowstorm began to slow sprinkle down his silent grave, and kept marching home.

"I'll join you soon, buddy."




Image


Name: Caleb Laughlin

Age: 28

Height: 5'9"

Gender, Sex, and Sexuality: Male, Male, Heterosexual

Personality: Like many scientists, Caleb is naturally curious and inquisitive but tempered by a strong sense of self control and personal duty. Polite and perhaps overly so to people he doesn't know well or trust, he is not introverted but not extroverted either, and generally rather amicable if high strung or snarky at times. Caleb is tends to be cautiously optimistic and idealistic, knowing it's better to hope for the best while preparing for the worst. He tends to be direct although not blunt with people, and doesn't like having to dance around uncomfortable words or ideas.

Caleb also performs well under pressure, and can assume command in a pinch if no one more qualified is willing to take up the mantle. Like many with a martial upbringing, Caleb is bound by a strong sense of personal honor. He is (or tries) to be humble in both success and failure, willing to admit to mistakes and point them out in others in a generally polite and constructive way. He also possess a very wide generous and selfless streak, willing to go out of his way and above and beyond to help those who can prove themselves to him. Even then, he's not above helping someone who truly needs it there in front of him, whether a correction on a paper or being helped up after a fall.

Caleb isn't a soldier or fighter by trade, but where he was raised there were exactly two kinds of people; those who knew how to fight, and the dead. While he doesn't especially like violence or engaging in it, he has no qualms about killing another human being if he has too. Violence isn't an answer but a question, and sometimes the answer is yes. Even then, with all the order and personal strength in the world, Caleb has his vices. His vindictive and cruel side can bubble forth from time to time, unwilling to forget until long after its' stopped mattering. By the same token, he'll remember his own mistakes and failures like it just happened, letting it sit and eat away at him, and is occasion will be kept up thinking of his own regrets. Fortunately his melancholic side seems to be a stronger than his vindictive one. He is not naive but he isn't as worldly as someone in such a dangerous place should be.

Has a deep and abiding disdain for everything and everyone Kronos, but knows better than to be open with it or let it affect his work.

Faction: Eternal Republic

Operator Class: Scientist

History Class: Jr. Researcher

Mech Class: Personal Mech Suit

Equipment and Weapons:
>Personal: .44 Magnum with underbarrel flashlight and a few reloads (lvl 3 sidearm), pens and notepad, headset, tablet computer, canteen and camelback bottle, cold weather clothing (minus mask when indoors and tanks can be carried when needed), utility knife, hands free and regular flashlight, watch with timer, snacks, and a bottle of Mogari! Eternal - Sunshine flavor.

>Mech Equipment: Floodlights, 0.3m x 0.5m Sensitive Goods Storage locker, small back-mounted crane with electric motor, 360o Situational Awareness Warning System, Inertial 'Memory' (remembers what steps it took and when to minimize getting lost), User-Injury RTB functionality, Long-Fall legs, dozens of MOLLE-style pouches over hard plates. The mech is equipped with light kevlar and steel armor, enough to stop minor injuries and small projectiles. The mech has no weapons and little strength enhancing capability - it is optimized for user safety in non-combat environments and carrying delicate or heavy equipment over rough terrain. The mech also has proper sealing to allow for safe surface transit.

>Mech-Carried Equipment: Dozens of the minutia needed for digging and safely recovering intact artifacts or other sensitive material. Includes but not limited to shovel, pick, hammer, cutting torch, screwdrivers, various electronics assemblies, revolver ammunition, spare parts, a tent, etc etc.



Bio:


"I nearly got killed convincing the gangsters to give me this god damn data and brought it to the lab myself. Nobody question my academic integrity again."

Caleb was the second child of three to an undistinguished working family in the northheast neighborhood of Hawkingsholme, where his parents earned their rice in a munitions factory. School started for Caleb at a young age, quickly showing an aptitude for the sciences. He was never lead the troop during morning physical training nor the princess of the class but he rise to the top academically - relatively speaking, naturally. He could be found inside reading books about the pre-war world in the single bookcase library the school had between classes and exercises. Several things about the old world fascinated him greatly - the wide plethora of languages, what the world was like before it was so cold, and the challenge of breaking down the mysteries of how the old world. While a wide eyed, awed wonder is great in a young child Hawkingsholme is not the place were childlike innocence survives for long.

He would get in trouble for dazing off during class and doing his own work. This was fine in the math and history classes, where what few books his father rented for him put Caleb far ahead of the class, but during his fighting classes it got him in more trouble. Dazing off and hesitating on a timed target shot, falling out of formation during a run, mishearing orders. He learned the hard way to never let his head stay in the cloud long, it was dangerous for him, the unit, and the entire city to lose focus for too long. The first time he heard 'The Screech', he was daydreaming in class and didn't notice everyone hurriedly covering their ears and bowing their heads to whatever cover to have before it struck. Even years later he can still hear it off in his dreams, although to him that trill howl is just another part of his soundscape. But he eventually learned how to live and fight as one hand, one heart, and one soul like the previous classes before him. Caleb and his kalash were feathers to a bird, and he to the class were bird to the sky.

Metaphorically speaking, of course - Caleb didn't see the actual sky until he was old enough to seriously consider leaving Hawkingsholme for better education elsewhere. Without any real means to get a proper school to accept him, having taken many of the technical and theory classes at the towns' own small university, Caleb just decided to work there in Hawkingsholme on an excavation team until something better came along. Things were fine for the first few years, making sure the safe tunnels stayed clear until a fateful project to dig a new water line that would route more surface melt underground. The cave they were digging was too close to the surface and collapsed. While no one was hurt a fair deal of valuable equipment was stranded on the far side, and had exposed the tunnel to the surface. This normally meant that once the gear had been recovered, the tunnel would be permanently sealed with a thick concrete wall to keep the city's air safe. The quick report and response to the collapse stopped too much outside air from entering and bought the team a few days of time to recover the gear. But as they worked their way through the rubble, spending hour after hour moving the tons of rock and snow with hand tools in the bitter cold of the exposed air, Caleb found something. It was an old world device of some type. He hurried it down and out of the tunnel as soon as he explained what he had found, and worked above continued.

He took it to the university lab and immediately began attempts to uncover its' secrets. Working slowly and methodically he started by brushing permafrost from the surface, working in an freezing room to stop the ice from melting and causing worse damage. He took care documentating of the case and what intact markings remain, writing down every bump and bolt as he slowly unpacked it piece by piece. It was a laptop computer, he would eventually discover after removing the bottom back plate. With great help from his professors and colleagues, Caleb managed to recover the device almost entirely intact. The computer once again flickered to life after nearly a lifetime of dormancy. This would be a day Caleb remembers greatly, and as he discovered on his return to the family home his great joy was replaced with sorrow. His younger sister suffered from repeated lung illness when she was young, and she finally died from an aggressive infection while he was working days ago. Like the horrible screech from his childhood, he would relive that evening in his dreams far too many times.

The week passed and the time for Caleb to mourn was over. He returned to the lab and the computer was still there, whirring away without issue as the other scientists offloaded every byte of data they could before it might die for good. He copied the work he did, got the references from the professors at his school, and sent a letter out into the great wide world. Applying for school through mail is difficult, especially when the mail routes are gone for most of the year. Eventually he did manage to get into a good school in Hope and prepared to leave. He kissed his family goodbye and gave a a farewell to his friends before setting off down the tunnel with a huge trading convoy as guard. The convoy left him at the consulate in Hope - a small office of one official and a handful of professional thugs to keep the place safe - and he set off. He was a good fit at Alamaed Technical School, where he worked his way up the academic ladder to become a professional researcher. Of course, an efficient organization doesn't let unique talents go to waste and assigned him for his first surface expedition. He did some small scale training, enough to get familiar with the outside and how to survive up there during the expeditions.

Caleb still has many of the things he brought with him from Hawkingsholme, and longs to see it again some day. But for now he's in the Hope, grand city of the Eternal Republic, waiting for a new mission into the great icy yonder.

Caleb's technical specialties are the recovery, reactivation, translation, and study of old world data and media. One of his proudest feats was recovering an entire old world geology textbook from a two of decrepit copies, which he is still translating.

User avatar
The Twelve Isles
Minister
 
Posts: 2148
Founded: May 15, 2016
Capitalist Paradise

Postby The Twelve Isles » Tue Feb 26, 2019 6:51 pm

Character App



Player Rank: Veteran (Maybe commander, but Im not as confidant about that one so I'll leave it up to your discretion.)

RP Examples: Dragon Age: Blessed Are They Seize The Throne 1912 - 1990 War RP



Isra's Theme
Image
Image
If she is not wearing her Mech but is on a job, this is what she wears.


Name: Isra Daoud

Age: 29

Height: 5'5"

Gender, Sex, and Sexuality: Female, Female, Bi-Sexual

Personality: Charming, friendly and intelligent, and with a keen eye. Most find Isra to be approachable and pleasant, often mistaking her for just a wanderer rather than the driven person she truly is. However, she has lived on the surface for much of her life, and is a well respected member of the Red Hand. As a result, though she is sympathetic, she is also rather pragmatic, and has no qualms about using violence, especially if it is in defense of those on the road.

Faction: The Order Of The Red Hand

Operator Class: Adventurer

History Class: Explorer

Mech Class: Personal Mech

Equipment and Weapons: Assault Rifle, .44 Revolver Personal Mech

Bio: Isra was born in a small village on the surface, far enough away from the Republics control to be relatively left alone by bureaucracy, but close enough to military centers to be safe from hostile robots and bandits. Isra was an accidental child, her parents having had her when they were both 16. As a result, she was raised simultaneously by her grandmother and her parents interchangeably, and over time became more and more aware of the growing rift between her parents and her grandmother, who wished Isra's parents would pay more attention to their Moroccan heritage and follow Moroccan customs. Her parents on the other hand viewed ancient cultures as irrelevant to their lives in a society built on the bones of a previous one, and preferred to look to the stars, where they dreamed of one day taking their daughter and exploring off this dead world. This conflict came to a head when Isra was 7, and her parents both signed on to work on a caravan in exchange for a share in it. They asked Isra if she wanted to come with them, but her grandmother instead made an effort to convince Isra to stay with her. In the end, she chose to go with her parents and see the world, and together they set off with dreams of the great Void. In this caravan, she learned all the ins and outs of being a nomad and a merchant. Soon, it became apparent to her as well that not everything the caravan did to make money was exactly legal, and she became adept at lying and ducking the law, especially as she got older and began to take on more responsibility in the business.

When Isra was 14, the leader of the caravan that she was raised on retired, and having earned a share of the caravan in their first crossing of the surface, as well as being the longest employees in the caravan, he gave the caravan to Isra's parents. At the same time, Isra decided that she wanted to continue in her parents footsteps as an adult, and began saving money to buy a mech of her own one day, so that she could search the surface for a ship to fly to the station. She worked hard, both in legitimate business and in slightly more extra legal ones, and even made a foray into boxing a few times. (She was only mediocre. She was agile enough for the sport, but the vast majority of the time she would be knocked out in only a few good hits from her opponent.) By the time she was 18, she had saved enough money to buy a small, personal mech suit, and began running around the surface of the Republic, where she continued on in much the same tradition, buying and selling anything that would turn a profit, legal or no. Over time, she began drifting closer and closet to the city of Hope, and eventually found herself in the city itself. Deciding that there was money to be made on the station, she decided to stay. Isra worked hard, using what skills she had, and eventually caught the attention of Kronos, who took her on as a smuggler and fixer for their operations. However, her actions with the PMC left Isra with a bad taste in her mouth, and she couldnt help but feel that it was a career she could not commit herself to.

She stayed for another 2 years, until a series of bad business decisions, both legal and extra legal, forced her to leave the city to avoid the debt collectors. She couldn't complain however, the excuse to leave that life behind her was one she was more than willing to take. She spent much of the rest of the year smuggling guns for a group of bandits, which earned her enough money to start heading out into the surface for longer periods of time, where she was able to look for old Silo's that may have a working ship she could take for herself. She drifted around, taking on travelers as a guide from time to time, or continuing to work as a smuggler other times. Her parents died, and she traveled back to the village she was born in to bury them. While in town, she met a man who said he was from an order of soldiers, calling themselves the Order Of The Red Hand. Feeling that this was her chance to seek redemption for the things she had done while working with Kronos, Isra jumped at the opportunity. She traveled back to the Orders headquarters, an old underground silo and armory that they referred to as The Steel Castle. There, she was accepted into the fold, and was given the position of Ranger, due to her explorations of the world outside. Now, she continues on much the same, but still always keeps her eyes out for working ships. Not only because part of the Orders charter is to spread to space, but also because it is still her dream.

Character App



Player Rank: Veteran

RP Examples: Same as previous app. I can write something if you need a new one, I just have no earlier RP's that I can easily get to.







Name: Valentin Petrov (Valentin The Deserter)

Age: 31

Height: 6'0"

Gender, Sex, and Sexuality: Male, Male, Heterosexual

Personality: Smart, capable, cocky and oozing a smarmy charm, Valentin is one of those kinds of people who you know is a bit of a dick but you cant help but kind of like anyways. He is deeply religious, but at the same time is a dissenter from the state religion of the Empire after his fall from grace. Though he believes in the teachings of Tyran and of the power and grace of the Eldest, he has come to see Morgana as a pale imitation of who she supposedly is, and holds great animosity towards the Empire.

He is solely focused on a single quest, to gain a new mech to replace his lost one, and to march triumphantly over the ashes of the Empire who so disgraced him and prove that Morgana is no god, and is merely a mortal such as the rest of us. And he knows he's smart enough to do it, and that the Red Hand can gain the power to be his army, if he only pulls the right strings.

Faction: The Order Of The Red Hand

Operator Class: Soldier

History Class: War Veteran

Mech Class: Personal Mech

Equipment and Weapons: Tyrans Herald (Tungsten battle axe)Light Of The Eldest (Mech) Blood Taker (Laser Rifle)

Bio: Valentin was born a slave, and a slave who was expected to fight. Though technically he was the child of a high ranking military official in the Empire, it was well understood that he was expected to be a soldier too. He could do whatever he pleased, but it would lead his family to financial and social ruin if he chose otherwise, and so it was that Valentin became the apprentice to a mech operator in the Imperial Army at the age of 13. He learned all the ins and outs of a Priest Class, how to pilot them, how to keep them working, how to refuel and how to arm and reload the guns. He was a natural, and he excelled, till he was 19 and was gifted a mech of his own. It was his fathers, the one the man who had given Valentin life had ridden to battle in the 4th Bot War, and against the tribes of infidels and degenerates who populated the surface. It was named Lords Suffering, and from father to son it was given new life.

Valentin was given command of his own soldiers, infantry in smaller personal mechs. Though it was not required by military standard, Valentin chose the colors of white and gold as his own, and the image of a blooming tree as his sigil. He painted it on his armor, on Lords Suffering, and had it painted on the armor of his subordinates so that all would know his name and his mark. Valentin became a golden boy of sorts in the military. Young, attractive, of aristocratic stock and with a flair for the dramatic in the field. He was for some time the most eligible bachelor in the capitol. He was exciting, and if he had been in the Republic he was sure bad pulps would have been written about his adventures.

But paradise could only last so long. The more he went to the surface on campaign, the more disillusioned he became with Morgana. He had begun to read extensively, collecting books while on the surface and bringing them back to his home in the undercity. There, he began to learn more of how the world had been, and the history of his religion and entire culture from an outsiders perspective. And with this new knowledge, he began to suspect that he was not the good guy. He was feared by the people of the surface, not seen as the valiant white knight his aristocratic cohorts referred to him as. On the surface, no one spoke of him in exalted tones, as a hero coming to rescue them from their ignorant ways. On the surface, they looked towards the Republic, towards a strange figure supposedly stalking the hills, and towards a fluttering red hand over an ancient armory.

In the undercity, Valentin's prestige began to drop. He was increasingly outspoken in his criticisms of the Empire, and of his doubts of Morgana. He was more and more a pariah, a dangerous radical, someone to be monitored not revered. But, Valentin refused to stop. He had the loyalty of his soldiers, he had his House, and he had his axe. None could assail him. At least, he believed that was the case. In then end, his fall came from the hand of his own father. On the surface, his men of white and gold came under fire from the soldiers commanded by Valentin's father, and in the ensuing battle Valentin's mech was destroyed. However, he survived, and when he petitioned the Empress for vengeance against this betrayal his pleas went unanswered. His fortune was lost, and his men were killed. And in the end, Valentin's last shred of respect was taken away, and he abandoned his Empire. He took a small personal mech with him, bearing his colors and carrying his battle axe, and Valentin set off for the snow covered surface.

In the coming months Valentin became known as the Deserter, and he killed all Imperial soldiers who he came across. He wandered and murdered, allowing his rage to overtake him, until he came to a small town where there was a funeral. A young woman was in attendance, and a man in a suit of armor with a red cape. The woman's name was Isra, and the man was a Guardian in the Order Of The Red Hand. The Red Hand opposed the Empire, and sought to bring peace and justice to the world. Though their goals were loftier and far more altruistic to Valentin's, they would do. He left with Isra and the Guardian, struggling through the snow to the Steel Castle. There, he met with the High Council, and told them of who he was and why he had come. He showed them his skills, and proved himself to those he needed too. He worked hard, rising from the rank of simple Guardian to an Operator in two years time. Now, with the backing and trust of the Red Hand on his side, Valentin has begun to venture into the world in search of a mech to reclaim his lost titles, and to hopefully change the Empire for the better.
Last edited by The Twelve Isles on Sun Mar 03, 2019 10:59 am, edited 2 times in total.
Proud member of the Federation Of Isles.

The Lamplighter will return in times of Blight.
When you are lost in darkness, search for the light.

"The crown and whales will always provide."

Emperor Tyrus Willun The Conqueror.


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