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Tyranic Marta wrote:sev?

I guess that is one of the commandos in Republic commando.

agreed

Unless the lot of you missed it Terrence doesnt care about death. Hes sort of looking for the most dangerous things he can. Throwing himself into combat (Litterally) Is what makes him who he is. Hes a daredevil who enjoys putting himself in harms way. But hes one of those people who no matter what danger he puts himself in he always gets out of it unscathed and it frustrates him.

Hes like a druggy who cant find a hit to save himself. As a masochist he wants to feel the pain but he cant seem to find it. And he has scars on his chest from self inflicted wounds but they dont feel the same as when the adrenalines pumping and he takes a bullet or a piece of shrapnel.

But he is extrememly professional. He doesnt throw himself infront of bullets he still does his job. But theres always the underlying current of hope that he might get a glimpse of the pain hes always wanted.

Part of that stems from him seeing his family butchered. He thinks in some twisted way that he can save them by taking the pain that they took. Completely nuts in that regard bu that just makes him even more lethal.


As you can see I'm a fluff junkie. I take characters and I flesh them out until they sort of have thier own lives. And i can do it with any Genre. I just choose to more often do it with characters that have a UHC or a Universal human Concern. Something everyone can Identify with. Usually I center that around a loved one(s) but I have been known to bring in other factors like enviromental issues and self harm. (Obviously not on this website) But there you go, I was bored and decided to write that spiel so that i could eat up some time

yeah. I like to have in-depth characters as well

I just finished writing a chapter...I suprised myself... My hand were flying and my mind was like WTF DUDE!

Sooo Who liked my story (On this About the Battle On E'nath)

Viewing of applications program initialize...
Collecting data...
Data received...
As the purple tinted program activated a simple list of several categories appeared in front of me. I was privy to the application list mainly because they saw it as no threat to the Exolian for a Human diplomat to see a simple data list of soldiers preparing for the war with the Shapers. Specialized combat was the first category and it lead down to a pod of other sub categories. I didn't feel like looking at boring training and combat feeds given to a central hub, what i was looking for was a certain Exolian who had some influence over another diplomat, so much so that he agreed to some private deal with the Exolians. I logged out of the Combat data tree and found myself in the bio organic section which i expected scientists trying to find ways for their races to surpass the threat of bacteria but instead of a pure scientific community i found their combat medic and doctors sub category. The first name on the Medic list was "V-12" a exolian who was one of the first for that specific clan of Exolians as it had only a double digit number. I clicked on it to see its specializations and i found that it had a unique skill given to it for experimental reasoning. The skill was Immediate Assailant Elimination Techniques. In other words Martial arts like on Earth. It was strange so i decided to look at the others on the list to find it replaced by Immediate escape tactics that proved to be methods of escaping hand to hand matters. The polar opposite of what V-12 was taught and told to do. I began looking at saved mission logs that turned out to be several hours to days long videos that were used as performance monitors. Luckily for me the "Vieden Raiders Incident" was on the current log list for V-12. I began watching the video from the beginning.
I was rather unimpressed by the boring day to day chores for the metallic organism until the third day mark of the voyage from Earth to Exolian's Seventh Moon. There the incident began. V-12 was walking down a silver hallway towards his lounge then to the cafeteria to ensure the passengers are eating the needed nutrients for healthy body maintenance. The screen shakes as a sudden impact bursts the ship's pressure as raider units pieced the hull to deliver its contents. Within the screen another screen appear like a minimized window on a computer which showed a list of the ships passengers and next to each passenger was their location and current essential body readings. Several read dead from the impact. Another window appeared which was only text, showing that the exolian hacking into the ship's systems to achieved information. The port side showed four flashing red areas indicating hull breaches. All the newly summon windows close except the passenger list. V-12 had auto piloted itself into the infirmary and to its surprise it was empty. It took interest in the list again to find many of its contents to be bottled up in the cafeteria as to expected due to the time of day, but all their stress levels were risen since before. V-12 estimated that all those in the cafeteria were captured. The few who were not capture where ether in safe zones built to defend the crew from internal battles or the captain quarters and the few in there were key personnel for the ship's performance. The Diplomat, his daughter, head guard, and second captain were located there. The head captain had locked himself in with the navigator in the bridge to continue piloting as well as to send mayday signals indicating a capture vessel.
At that point of analysing the data anther window pop up and it showed V-12's suit and its shoulder flashing red indicating hard pressure and Arcutran language was spoke and the language processor translated it for V-12.
"We found the ships doctor! Its an Exolian, big bucks for the slave market better make sure the buyer doesn't understand that Exolians are extremely resistant." the pale humanoid shouted to the open door. Now it focused at the metal suit in front of it. " If you don't want all those billions upon billions of Exolians in there no to get hurt then i suggest doing what i say."
"Estimated knock out, 87.1%, risk accepted but 97.9% consensus." With the computerized voice talking to itself V-12's body kicked into action as it swung a spinning back fist breaking the confidence of the Arcutran. Then a swift front kick and elbow to the spine ensure that the Arcutran was forced asleep. The commotion brought an armed human into the room of healing.
"oh gak! you knocked him out...Well unlike my friend here i am armed so please dropped down onto your knees and please allow me to deactivate your arms." the at first loud voice transited down to a flat headed command. He approached cautiously not trying to be caught off guard like his fellow pirate. once he was at arms length. The metal man face palmed him grabbing onto his head and activated the surgery light located in its hand blinding the poor organic being. It let go to perform a hard jab breaking his jar forcing him to the ground and a flurry of light kicks to the back of his head brought him to unconsciousness. It did a quick scan making positive that both attackers were down until a few hours.

Thats all am going to do for today since its like 5:10 A.M. where i am at.

wait, he (Terrence) is a pain junky? (Tsu'gan anybody?)

nice, shroud.

In the cold Arcturan winter the two experimental mechs woke up. One, an older model, took an extra minute to start up. It spewed primitive smoke from it's rusted engines that was lost in the falling snow. It's hull looked as if it had been patched up with random scraps. It's weapon were simple claws, and it's legs short and piston driven.
The other in comparison was as clean as the snow that it crushed under it's feet. It's smooth metal was light weight and durable. It had two long blades for arms as well as two shoulder mounted cannons, all powered by a basically infinite energy source. It moved with thrusters planted in it's legs. Unlike it's opponent it's handler was sitting with the few spectators controlling it by safely radio, as his opponent climbed in to pilot his own piece of scrap. He had thought the other mech to be a joke at first, but when he realized it was serious he thought his promotion secured.

The Arcturan general gave the signal for the test to begin, the Arcturan controlling his mech by radio thought he might as well let his opponent move first before firing. He wouldn't mind killing his competition, but it would have to look like an accident. The rusted mech took a second to get moving again this time however it leapt forward, surprising the other Arcturan. One claw snapped around a cannon and snapped it clean. The other mech floated back as it's controller realized the rust must have been a cheap trick. He open fired with his other cannon, but his opponent jumped to the side faster then it could track. The second claw clubbed the firing cannon, knocking it loose so that it hung on by a few wires. The other Arcturan was serious now though he realized he'd been tricked and wasn't pulling punches anymore. He parried a claw with It's smooth blade and swung with the other, forcing the older mech to backpedal. He then used the thrusters to glide behind the mech and cut into it's smoke belching engine. The old engine block sparked as it was torn out spilling fuel into the snow.

The victorious mech turned to it's owner, but as the general went to congratulate the scientist the dead mech sprang to life. It ripped it's claws into the other Mech's head and cut it in three pieces. Their was a huge spark from the inside then it's chest exploded spreading pieces into the storm. It fell face first completely immobile while the snow covered it. Bis To'Vias forced open the cockpit of the victorious mech. The Arcturan general came towards him as he plucked the pilots key from the piece of junk, immediately it shut down, one arm falling off of it into the snow. Using it might of been riskier then he thought as he wiped the blood from his forehead, but he had proven the key worked. He had designed it to enhance the systems of any machine for situations when mechs like his opponents weren't available.

"To be honest I didn't believe that thing would get that old scrap heap to work let alone do that, congratulations. I can't wait to see how you use it in the field." Said the general.

"Thank you, sir. What? You don't mean me in the field, right?"

nice. but wouldn't arcturans be more...alien? less human speech? I thought of them as...eldarish.

hmmm...ill write up a story on my jungle raylid colony i guess.
and no.they are not all rapists

ineptus astartes wrote:nice. but wouldn't arcturans be more...alien? less human speech? I thought of them as...eldarish.

I was debating it and didn't know how to do it exactly, do we want them stuck up like eldar, incredibly intelligent, or something else

So they are not ALL rapists? Are you the only one?

I always thought they acted like eldar. A little chauvinistic, somewhat disdainful, maybe a bit prideful, they seem to like to flaunt their nation's wealth a bit according to modo, but this does not make them any less effective (except getting their headdresses caught on something)

I'll put some background for Xytan soon.

Good! (hey, check out the RP I have been making! a month and a half it took me.)

I did not really into fantasy though

yeah well. i am not overly into fantasy either, I just sometimes get a bit bored with: shootshootshoot! (and the grimdark was getting depressing, but that always happens every 6 months or so.

your choice of couse

ineptus astartes wrote:nice. but wouldn't arcturans be more...alien? less human speech? I thought of them as...eldarish.

That's interesting, when I read the Arcturan bio when desiding on a character I imagined them much like Wood elves (icy versions) or Eldar, which would make my Maimer very much like a Dark Eldar ^.^ also how do we do our characters speech in the roleplay if we don't speak human? Unfortunatly I don't have an Eldar wingdings font type on my computer O.o

no. all race speak 'basic' (terran) except the Bandores (they have to have artificial voice-boxes implanted)

translated into common from raylid

year,month,part of day

1,1,1

when we 1st arrived on this jungle planet,we found the colonies pre sent supplies ravaged and destroyed. even what was to be are new homes were in rubble. My son II V is not taking it too well. But we must go on.we claimed this planet and we will live here....besides,we cant go home....

1,1,2

as the day draws to an end we have made little progress. And are top scientist has gone missing. May the almighty winged one protect us.....

1,5,2

forgive me for not writing for so long,but ive been busy not getting eaten. We have had several more members of are group disappear only to be found as bones later on. We have made a crude fort in a sturdy tree,although the leaves could use some salt. What an odd thing salt,humans put it on everything yet they never seem to get drunk. I commend there tolerance level. Oh,its II V hatchday soon. My how hes grown. I only wish I could give him more than gun lessons for a gift,but all ive got is this pistol and some ammo.

1,5,1

my son sure enjoyed his hatchday. He show excellent marksmanship for his age. This also means if things go bad I can put him into are defense force.

2,3,2

its been a long time,hasent it? Sorry,again, trying not to die. Are old camp got attacked in the night and we barely escaped. We were forced to wander the jungle for awhile to find a signal to send for help,then,we had to wander some more to find were they landed. And then,yup,some more to find were they dropped off are new supplies and colonizers. But now we finally have a small town here. its growing quite fast too. II V seems upset though. He misses the freedom he had of climbing about wherever he wanted. He was a trouble maker,yes,but at least he was happy.

(yeah,not much. and its a journal type thing,ill post the rest later.)

hah. salt. influenced by arcona perhaps?

Nice work there, brosephii.

ineptus astartes wrote:hah. salt. influenced by arcona perhaps?

nope,thought of it randomly.just tryin to make it sound a little more..alien. besides grammar any idea would be appreciated

yeah...in SW, arcona can get addicted to salt.



but yeah, my inner perfectionist was mighty pleased there, at that 'alienefying'.

Yes Terrence is a Pain Junkie, no he isnt like Tsugan, Tsugan self inflicts, Terrence finds that it isnt enough

I thought i would give you all a treat....

The next section of the fluff...

Terrence ducks under the shattered doorframe of an even more shattered building, perhaps once a hab-structure judging by the Aquasyntheti table. He thought dispassionately for a second about the ridiculous beverage that had replaced coffe in this day and age. He turns into a corridor and spots a pair of Exolians. His rifle comes up and he pumps the trigger twice. The Exolians collapse to the ground even their strange exo-suits unable to protect them from the pointblank shots. Blackwood leaned against the crumbling wall of the corridor and depresses a small button by the side of the bullet feed, this snaps the half spent mag out of its socket. The man’s scarred hand catches the clip deftly before slotting a replacement in. Terrence looks quickly around, conscious of the battle raging around him and swiftly loads loose shells into the half spent magazine.

The clip is slapped onto a magnetic mesh that wraps around his thigh holding the clip and a couple of others, in place. His gloves temporarily disabled the field around anything he touches on the mesh so he can pull things off easily. But otherwise the mesh is designed to hold metallic objects in place even during freefall. The dark haired man moves off the wall and stalks into another room. A partial wall with a window promises good cover and he crouches behind the wall and edges over to the window. Poking his head over the lip and looking through he waits calmly for the line of Exolians to get closer. When his helmet tells him that they are 250 meters away he double taps the throat mic and stands smoothly. Bringing his rifle to bear he aims briefly, centering the crosshairs on a particularly fast Exolian soldier and squeezes the trigger. Moments later he hears the stattaco pulse of his squad’s combat rifles pounding alloy shells into the lines of running soldiers and maimers. The sound of falling brass is like rain pattering on the Semcrete of the terraced hab-block. His squad firing controlled individual shots into specified targets, disciplined fire control bringing to bear decades of rigorous training.

The dark haired man feels his body dropping into a rhythm his cheek resting against the now warm polymer of the rifle stock, his hand curled around the handgrip, his finger, in turn, curled around the trigger. Blackwood feels his body in tune with the rhythmic bucking of the weapon, the almost sensual connection between man and machine, ergonomics at its finest. He would squeeze the trigger, allow the muzzle to rise and then fall, twisting his shoulders a fraction so that when the muzzle comes down the crosshairs are centered on another target. Then he pulls the trigger again. Looking briefly over the sights of the weapon to find his next target, a fraction of a second later his shoulders line up, another fraction later the muzzle comes down, and another fraction later the trigger is squeezed again. And another Exolian dies. Terrence moves so fast that the trigger is only fully out a split second before he is ready to pull it again.

After a minute or so the spent clip auto expels, the scarred hand again catches it deftly and slaps it onto the mag-mesh, another replaces it in the gun and Blackwood’s fingers caress the slide of the rifle hearing the guttural click as it locks in. Then the cold man returns to his rhythm the reload taking but 3 seconds. Soon the Exolians run out of troops to funnel into their line of sight and the man is given a brief reprieve. He hears his mic spark up and then a throaty bubbling voice rolls through his skull visor.
“Blackwood the Vernid want to bring up their mechs, some kind of heavy weapons wing. They want to wipe the Exolian artillery of the board. Give us some leeway to work ahead into the Exolian lines. And I have to agree with ‘em, those gunners are shelling us so hard my grenades are hiding. Thing is they need us to give em cover while they do the deed.”

Terrence groans internally. He new about the Vernid guns, he was shown them at the pre-op briefing. They were essentially pair of legs with a quad of mass accelerators locked to their chassis. All laser linked for salvo fire. The weapons were more than capable of wiping the Exolian heavies off the board but the mechs were hopeless at dealing with infantry. This meant that the Vernid were relying on Blackwood and his team to defend the mechs long enough for them to do their job. 7 men defending 5 heavy walkers from an army of crazed super techs? It was going to drain their ammo supply that was certain.

The dark haired man makes a decision and double taps his mic and gives his team their orders.
“Alright pull back to the Villa behind us. Well use the courtyard there as the mech fire platform. These buildings are a liability I want you all to lay a couple of charges in each one and drop an incendiary at the base of a rear facing window, if not the door of your respective buildings when they get close, we’ll fry ‘em. In the mean time pull back the lot of you.”

Terrence follows his own order and slaps a deconstructor charge on each of the walls I the rearmost room of his building, then a thermo charge at the base of the window facing towards the Villa. He then takes the time to fill his mags with loose shells form his pack before exfiltrating the building. His hand comes up and then down towards the Villa and he sees his team moving towards the still intact building. The 7 men quickly swept the floors and set up several fire points and blocked of the rest of the windows. Then they set up a small comms feed in the second floor of the three story building. Blackwood let his men spread themselves through the floor. They were the best, they knew what they were doing in the mean time he gave a quick location marker to the Vernid through the comms link and went out into the courtyard beside the Villa to wait for the ponderous walkers.

He was not to be disappointed the walkers moved slowly but surely making good time through the streets, but by the time they had locked themselves down and readied their weapon systems Terrence was forced back into the Villa to help his team. They were encountering some determined attacking fire. The rain of brass around the men’s feet was testament to the ammo being expended. But the walkers had brought additional ammunition with them giving the LADS (Low Altitude Drop Squad) some expendable ammo. Soon the men were ankle deep in spent casings but the Exolians kept on coming. Having spotted the mech wing they were stopping at nothing to try to bring them down. Unfortunately for them they couldn’t break through the fire line that those 7 men were holding. Indeed the Exolian front liners met a nasty surprise as they managed to occupy the buildings that the LADS had vacated. Blackwood gave a nod to his men and they all flicked detonator caps up and then depressed the small red buttons concealed there. 14 deconstructor charges and 7 thermo explosives ripped through the hab-block and the buildings were raised to the ground with powerful explosions and vicious fireballs eating at the Exolian infantry. The line was successful in holding back the lines of infantry form then on however the upper floor got hit by a couple of artillery shells forcing the men there to take cover in the second story.

The mechs were not a disappointment; the simultaneous thump of the mass accelerators was enough to make any soldier smile. But the Exolian soldiers were not to be stopped lightly. They brought LAV’s through the fire line trying to get close to the mech wing. But a few well placed RPG rounds were quite sufficient to halt that particular offensive. The mechs kept firing and soon explosions could be seen right along the Exolian line as artillery batteries were wrecked with impunity. With the artillery threat removed the mechs turned their attention to the anti air batteries but these proved to be trickier; the well armoured emplacements gave the mechs serious trouble to punch through. Eventually the Vernid commanders sent a comms through for the mechs to pull back, the LADS was going to have to make its way ahead on foot. to the batteries and bring them down in person.

wow. nice.

on topic.....any ideas you could throw at me would help. still cnt decide how my guys father is gonna die,aka,the end of the journal.

have him torn apart by a slasher.

Gladitorial Games and combat culture

the Vernid, a sovereign race culturally have lived in violent times. and even as they longed for peace, they knew in their hearts, that the Vernids would lose themselves without a focus, and all that had been learned, would be forgotten. each Vernid male is obligated to serve in the massive armies of their race. the Vernids do not enjoy raucous singing and drinking before a battle, i n the way humans cut their stress. Instead they play solemn, marshal tunes, songs of home and glory as the Vernid warrior listens to theses he is caught up in the phenomenon known as 'Awakening' perceiving himself as but a cog in a greater , glorious machine, a vengeance-bent army, intent on victory. while they lack the drive, or brute strength of the E'nathi, or the almost perfect physical balance of the Human combat style, the entire society revolves around Marshal skill. and as such, they compete in brutal gladiatorial arena's.

The spectacle of a being, being gored by a massive beast arouses the eaons-old ancestral viscousness in a vernid, when they had to condemn entire planets for their survival, and the Dark Times of the Yahan. and as such, their games, attract thousands of spectators, betting on their favored warriors. Criminals are put to death b y carnivores, or made to fight for their lives against each other.

The pre-battle songs are usually played by musicians, adept in wind, string and drums, most Vernid warriors hear rheses in the din of battle as well. blasting out of massive speakers on vehicles, or playing in the warriors' helmet. (these are a pretty much the two ending soundtracks of Attack Of The Clones)