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Post by thatfallout3guy on Jan 1, 2012 3:12:35 GMT -5
Everyone has a story. Even you! Reading this. You have a story, but would you like to take th-
Luke: Fallout, what the hell are you doing?
Fallout: I'm trying to be epic!
Luke: JUST START THE DAMN RP!
Fallout: FINE!
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It was a quiet day at Outpost Theta. The calm forest gave a sense of peace to the men stationed there, and while some would call it boring, it was a nice change of pace to the men from the normal heat of battle. In the medical ward sat a women, Jaimie Hunter. She had used her spare time to catch up on a book, as most of the recruits were out on a routine scouting operation.
She was beginning to get immersed in the story, when all of a sudden the door burst open, and a team rushed in a man on a stretcher. He was clutching his stomach, and blood seemed to be leaking through.
One of the men ran up to Jaimie, giving her a quick salute, "Ma'am! He needs help asap! We got hit by a group of bandits out on patrol!"
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Math walked through the desolate ruins of the city, his ship out of fuel, forcing him to make an emergency stop. The city was less than welcoming, and contained seemingly no signs of life, aside from what sounded like scurrying in the shadows.
As he walked, he finally heard a sign of life, "HEY!" A voice exclaimed, coming from the side, "What are you doing?! Get over here!" The man exclaimed, motioning for Math to come over towards him.
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Lagorúthon watched the bandits making their patrols throughout the small camp they were in control of. He had been told they killed a young recruit, and had several others captive. He needed to get in quickly, and eliminate them in one fell swoop.
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Booze and cheap cigarette smoke filled the air in the noisy bar. Generic rock music created a very... party filled atmosphere. In the corner sat a quiet man, keeping to himself and ignoring most of the others.
"Eh..." a man, decked in a leather jacket and dirty jeans sat at the bar, sipping a cup of whiskey as he glared at the man in the corner, "fucking new guy..." he growled. He stood to his feet, stumbling over to the man. "Hey, faggot. The fuck is your name?"
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Up high Branimir could see it, a bright light that signaled the Shrine of Zenith. He had spent the last several weeks attempting to find it, and it was finally within his grasp. It was said to have been the resting place of the monk Zenith, and the location was perfect to examine.
He scaled up the steps of the mountain, the wind becoming colder and colder the higher he climbed, but he had to reach the shrine. He couldn't help but feel a strange presence, as if the heavens themselves were watching... waiting.
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Whiskey Cove. A quiet, dusty town that didn't have access to many high technological advances, and was filled with a simple group of people. The hot desert air was hostile to most outsider, but the people of the town seemed to have gotten used to it.
D'espion sat alone in the saloon, only hearing the sound of people talking about how good they could shoot, and the energetic playing of the old piano.
The noise was broken up by a man bursting through the doors, a panicked look on his face, "BLOODFIST! ON THE HORIZON! THERE'S GOTTA BE A THOUSAND OF 'EM!" He screamed.
The saloon goers began panicking, scrambling around and trying to find a place to hide, or a place to run. Very few men stayed behind, only cleaning their guns as they seemed to wait in anticipation.
One man, who's face was covered by a dark brown cloak that he wore over his entire self, probably to protect himself from the desert's harsh environments, stood up from the bar, walking to the panicked man, "Where are they?" He asked.
The man stared in awe, "Wha- what?! They're coming this way! West side of town! For God's sake man, get out!"
The man only nodded, "Thank's," with that, he turned to face the rest of the bar, "I'm gonna go meet them before they can cause any trouble. Anyone that wants to kill a couple thousand men is welcome to join me," he said, his tone calm and somewhat soothing to the dire situation.
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Seamus
Sexual Position
Posts: 82
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Post by Seamus on Jan 1, 2012 3:32:06 GMT -5
"Oi, you," D'espion called out. "If you're planning on a counterattack, you will die. Simply put. 'Anyone who wants to kill a few thousand men' will, too. There's, what, less than 50 of us in here? And, although I believe this number to be a bit high, 'a thousand of them'? You need a plan. That's where I come in." D'espion didn't usually insult strangers. This was special. He had heard that the TSC were coming to check up on the village today; he needed to gain entry to the TSC. His past demanded it.
Without waiting for a response, D'espion created a stone blade the size of his finger and began carving into the table. "They're obviously coming towards us, based on that man's frantic cries," he said, scratching a number of lines into the table. He also drew a large square, representing the saloon. The lines were moving to the saloon. "You, mysterious man wearing the redundantly heavy cloak, would you mind leading the assault? Hope not, we'll need you to. You three, there;" here he pointed at three men that bore the look and attitude of engineers, "you probably know something about electronics. Get out there, use these binoculars, and tell me if they have any vehicles to worry about."
D'espion was talking rapidly now, and, having tossed the binoculars he had created out of wood and some melted down sand as he spoke, went back to etching. "The rest of you, gather your guns and head up that ridgeline directly on the saloon's east side. That includes you, sweaty. I'll take the west end. Barman, if you wouldn't mind using that rifle I know you keep beneath your bar and picking off a few of them, I'd be much obliged." He pause for breath and looked up.
"What're you lot waiting for? Get moving, yeah?" The patrons of the saloon stared at him in awe, and D'espion headed out on his own, fully expecting the men to follow him.
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Post by (´･ω･`) on Jan 1, 2012 3:39:10 GMT -5
-Jaimie hopped up quickly, setting her book aside. She cracked her neck, walking over to the stretcher and began studying the wound. "How did it happen, and how deep was the injury?" She asked these questions, running her hand above the wound, her palm glowing slightly. As she waited for their answer, she delved deep in her mind, trying to find that little corner where her magic was stored. She was still getting used to her powers, so it took her a second, but had an immediate connection when she did. Her hand began to pulse as she passed it systematically over the wound, but waited for the actual diagnostic before performing the healing. Healing could be a tricky business, and you had to know exactly what you were up against, or someone could wind up with something they didn't have before. Like a tumor. Or a third arm. She cringed inwardly, remember her disastrous first attempt.
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Post by thatfallout3guy on Jan 1, 2012 3:53:37 GMT -5
The man stepped aside, allowing D'espion to walk past. He chuckled as D'espion walked outside, as if he expected the men to listen to him, "You can do what he says, or you could let me handle it and stay here to pick off any that come near. I'm a Spectre, I think I can take on a couple thousand Bloodfist." A small gasp was heard as the bar grew quiet, the men had been following the order stopped, and stared at the man. He nodded to them all, jogging outside to catch up with D'espion.
As he caught up, he gave the man a quick tap, "Hey! Pretty good plan back there, but trust me on this, we're not gonna need it. I'll just go out, kick as much ass as possible, and then when we get back to town, drinks are on me!" The man stopped, seeing a large dust cloud that seemed to be coming from an oncoming wave of vehicles and foot soldiers. The man's face was open enough to show a smirk as he stopped, taking a stance and looking at D'espion, "You ready?" He asked.
Before D'espion could answer, a tunnel of wind engulfed the stranger, blocking his entire figure from view and kicking up a bit of sand. The wind stayed for a few moments, and when it cleared the clock was gone.
The strange man's face was now fully visible, and D'espion could see his features clearly. He was a young looking man, in his late twenties. He had a small scar running down from his right ear to his chin, and a black beard that covered his entire jawline, and upper lip. His hair was neatly kept, and also jet black like his beard. It reached down just below his ears, which had a slight point to them.
As more of the wind that covered his body seemed to vanish, an armor came into view. It was a dark green color, and had blunt shoulder-pads that covered both shoulders. The torso was protected by a dark green steel type armor, that seemed to be very thin, and had several tribal like designs on the front. His upper arms were unprotected, but from the elbow down he had a pair of green clawed gauntlets, one of which he seemed to be holding a strand of wind with. Finally, the pants were a dark green, and tucked into his armored boots. They didn't seem to offer any protection, and were only there to cover his legs. As the wind in his hand finally snapped into a physical form, it became a staff. The staff was a dark black, and about six feet long, with green designs that seemed to pulsate. At the end was a sharp blade that extended from the staff by two halfs, both of which met to form a very sharp point.
The man lifted up a hood, smirking to D'espion before turning to the Bloodfist, "I take one half, you take the other half," he said before crouching down. An explosion of wind propelled him forward at high speeds, sending him flying directly into the oncoming charge of the Bloodfist.
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"He got hit with an arrow, ma'am! Weak spot in his armor, on his side. We already got it out, but we don't know if it snigged anything vital!" The young man said in a hurried, but understandable fashion.
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Seamus
Sexual Position
Posts: 82
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Post by Seamus on Jan 1, 2012 4:05:18 GMT -5
"Fucking cocky bastard," D'espion muttered. "Oh, no, let's not use the safer, smarter plan, let's go gung-ho into the heat of battle." He shook his head and shouted, "Alright, you do that!" after the man. He sort of liked him. Not in a friendship way, in a "he knows what he's doing" way. He looked down at his own garb, a simple black robe with red symbols painted over bits of it. He pulled up the hood- which served a purpse, mind you- and began to flick his hands back and forth.
D'espion rose, on a cushion of air, until he could see the entire battlefield below him. The man was, as he had said, handling the enemy. "Time to do my part," he muttered. He held his hands out in front of him, and jerked them upwards. An army of sand golems with a twist rose out of the ground in front of him. The twist? They explode into shards of molten rock when he gives the order. Fun, those things were.
"Show that bastard a thing or two," he muttered, and brought his hands together. The red script on his robes glowed, and he suddenly jerked his hands apart and clapped. Clouds gathered overhead, and it soon became apparent that they were storm clouds. Storm clouds that "rain" lightning bolts. He also added on thing; a Chaos Factor.
This Chaos Factor was represented by 102 to 1 against, and was as follows: the enemies will suddenly fall into pitfalls dug by the natives of this planet over four hundred years ago. To be honest, D'espion didn't control the Chaos, but nor did it control him; there was balance. Balanced chaos. Well, that should take care of his half.
"Let's see what you do, eh, mate?"
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Post by thatfallout3guy on Jan 1, 2012 4:19:49 GMT -5
The man had already began slicing through the ranks, 10, 20, 30... he couldn't keep count of the amount of bodies he was cutting through with the blade of his staff. He then noticed the sand golems that had started assisting him, and the clouds of lightning and the many pitfalls. The man looked up at D'espion and gave an impressed whistle, "Can't have him showing me up though..." the man said.
He began spinning his hand around a bit, slowly forming wind around his arm before aiming it forward. A small tornado blasted forward, tearing into the ranks of the Bloodfist, and taking out even a few vehicles. He smirked as he saw the carnage. He then stood there, summoning wind around his entire body to create a small shield that kept out anything from harming him. The earth itself began to vibrate before he blasted forward, his entire body evaporating into a gust of wind. The wind tore through the Bloodfist, shredding through their ranks in a matter of moments, and quickly reducing their numbers. The battle raged on, and it was clear the Bloodfist wouldn't last much longer.
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The man scanned the battlefield, seeing the Bloodfist corpses that were littered about. He smiled, and began making his way back to D'espion.
"That was damn impressive. Summoning up an army and doing all that stuff? You're one helluva mage," the man said, before finally extending his hand, the armor began to fade away as the gauntlet vanished off of his arm, "Captain James M. Wanderer, at your service."
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Post by Rygand on Jan 1, 2012 7:40:30 GMT -5
Sebastian swirled his cognac absently, his mind the day's job. The man was garbed in a fine, black suit, with a white undershirt, the jacket of it extended into a trenchcoat. He was also wearing simple brown, steel-tipped leather shoes, fingerless brown gloves, and most noticeably, a black fedora, with a white band. He had been hoping to find an informant at this scumhole, but no such luck. In a bad mood at this admittedly minor setback, he figured he'd finish his drink in peace and then leave for greener pastures.
"Hey, faggot. The fuck is your name?"
No such luck, apparently. Lifting the brim of his hat with his right index finger, he raised his gaze to his new friend. An unsettling, playful smirk was now playing his lips. His amber eyes set on this herculean examplar of a man, an intense look to them.
"The name is Trevor, my good man. And what can I do for you?", he spoke in his suave tone, polite and friendly, though with a strange chilly undertone to it.
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Post by thatfallout3guy on Jan 1, 2012 10:57:58 GMT -5
The man stared, in awe a bit, "You're... not gonna hit me? Anything? At all? I just called you a faggot!" He exclaimed, frustration and anger in his voice. He then let out a sigh, rubbing his head, "Look, buddy, I'll be obvious. I don't wanna go back to work. I've tried I don't know how much to get one of these guys to do it, but they're afraid of me. PLEASE kick my ass and put me in the hospital.," he begged Trevor, an incredibly sincere tone in his voice.
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Post by Rygand on Jan 1, 2012 11:26:51 GMT -5
Sebastian looked at this man in awe, this truly working man, this everyday hero who makes our lives work, surely working at some manner of construction site or perhaps as a plumber! He had to help him in his time of need. Everyone needs some time off! With manly tears deep in his soul (but not quite in his eyes), he rose from his chair, and walked up to this sincere, honest man.
The assassin disappeared from sight for barely a second or two, re-appearing behind the working man, taking him into a trained and sturdy hold. Then, with two stomps of his right leg, he broke both of this wonderful man's legs, in identical spots, and cleanly. As the man fell to the ground, twitching and gurgling in pain, he knelt down next to the man, patting him on the shoulder, speaking in a hushed tone.
"Worry not, friend. I have broken your legs in places that will heal easily and without much pain, nor need for rehabilitation. You will, however, be stuck in a hospital for quite some time, being forced to lie in bed, watch TV, and be fawned up on by nurses. Terrible, isn't it?" he smirked at the man, rising from the ground and dusting himself casually, and then setting his hat.
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Post by thatfallout3guy on Jan 1, 2012 11:40:46 GMT -5
"Thank you..." the man said, as he sunk to the floor. As Sabastian looked at the man, he couldn't help but notice someone approaching him. The man wore a very business like suit, and carried a small briefcase. Clearly he was the very definition of official.
"Sparrow, is it?" The man asked.
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Post by Rygand on Jan 1, 2012 11:49:39 GMT -5
Giving an understanding, manly smile at his kindred spirit writhing on the floor, he nodded. Then, upon the arrival of the suited man, the smile disappeared, replaced with a somewhat threatening smirk. He did not turn to face the man completely, placing his hands in his pockets and adopting a casual stance.
"Rook. You're late. Let's go get a table and talk business, shall we?" A question which required no answer, Sebastian took his glass of cognac, and carried it with him, to an empty table, at the very northeastern corner of the tavern. He sat down, and motioned for "Rook" to follow his example.
"Tell me then, Rook. Do you have the information I asked for?", he sipped his cognac, that unsettling smirk constantly on his lips.
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Post by thatfallout3guy on Jan 1, 2012 11:55:05 GMT -5
The man in the suit nodded, taking a seat across from Sebastian and setting the briefcase down. With a quick push, he slid the briefcase over to the man, "Everything you'll need is in there. Also, I feel the need to ask why you've picked such a barbaric place to meet. Couldn't we have gone somewhere more... clean?" He asked, leaning back in the chair and taking a casual approach to the situation.
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Post by guycoolspore2 on Jan 1, 2012 12:43:55 GMT -5
Lagorúthon watched from the outskirts of the village, calculating the distance between him and the nearest watchtower. He pointed towards a blind spot, touched the ground softly, and said, "Conciero Hamanos," And from behind the tower there was screams. The guard ran down from the tower to see what had happened, and Lagorúthon sprinted and made it to the tower before he could come back.
"Damn idiots, trying to use their illusions on m-" Was all he could say before Lagorúthon rammed his sword into his spine, curving it's angle so it would hit the heart.
He motioned for the elven archer he had brought along to climb the watchtower as Lagorúthon had. Once the archer came aboard, he was placed at the window for the escape.
"There's too many of them for me to get all the prisoners out without them seeing us," Lagorúthon explained quietly as he added, "Which is why I bribed your teacher to let you come along. Have you practiced your shooting skills?" The archer nodded and notched an enchanted arrow.
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Post by Rygand on Jan 1, 2012 15:23:28 GMT -5
"That's the problem with you, Rook. You're too snooty. This place is fine. There's a lot of noise, and no one gives a damn about what each individual table is talking about."
Sebastian smiled in anticipation, neatly sliding the suitcase onto his side, and turning it to face him. He examined the various documents inside, provided pictures, quotes, dates and times... He nodded assertively, a pleased grin on his face.
"Ah. As always, Rook, you've exceeded my expectations." The man took out a PDA-like device, and after a few taps on it's touchscreen, he nodded to the man only known as "Rook". "I've transferred the usual payment to the agreed account."
Sebastian closed the suitcase, taking it into his lap. "The Trick Sparrow gives his thanks, Rook." He tipped his hat, his usual smirk ever present.
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Post by (´･ω･`) on Jan 1, 2012 23:01:49 GMT -5
-Jaimie nodded and let the magic run free, delving into the wound. Like a living entity, the blue glow of magic seemed to flood from the wound, twisting this way and that over the skin and in the tissue. Eventually, the muscles and veins began pulling themselves back together, tightening and relaxing just as quickly, the brain running tests to see if they were still operational. As the muscles finish, the skin began growing back, slightly pinker than the uninjured areas around it. As the last big of skin sealed up and the flow of magic retreated back to Jaimie, she sighed with relief, a small sweat drop forming on her forehead. She turned and placed her hands on the foot of the nearest bed, leaning into it, and breathed deeply. She raised her palm, looking at it, as the blue light faded from the pattern. It was just a normal hand once again, granted, with a huge birthmark. She smiled slightly, remembering her foster family back home, and closed her palm. As the home-sickness passed, she turned back around. "Where was he attacked?" she asked, looking down at the, until recently, injured man.
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