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"Mmm...that was pretty good stuff. I'll have to keep this place in mind."

The young man with the smoke-colored hair nods slowly, his hands, the visible set, at least, resting upon his belly as he gazes over the empty plates. Not only had he finished the first plate, but he had called by the serving girl and gotten two more to follow it up. Being an arachno sapien, he tended to burn a lot of calories just in ordinary activities with the extra limbs. His high metabolism accounted for his thin frame, yet no part of his frame was truly bony. Most of his body was muscle despite his thin, wiry appearance, the boy quite certain despite never meeting another like him so far that there weren't many arachno sapien beings who were built large. To him, it made sense that they would all be somewhat thin, as too much muscle upon each arm would tend to cause each to get in the way of the others.

Closing crimson eyes, his fingers lace over his belly, both visible and hidden, leaning back in the booth for a moment before the rhythmic thumping in his head starts. It was always so. He would get a good meal, then his head would begin to pound, telling him to go work off some of the pent-up aggression he kept locked down inside and burn off some of that food. His stomach was already starting to knot, making it hurt as he groans and pushes away from the table, up onto his feet. He totters towards the cashier with the check for a moment, his hidden arms relaying his money to his hand. He reaches up to rub at the pounding headache that had developed...it was essentially violating his mind as effectively as a pervert upon a drunken bar patron. He pays the check without paying much attention to the exchange, his eyes half closed and temples pulsing along with his heartbeat.

Th-th-thump.

His steps matched his heartbeat, racing quickly, the outside world passing him by.

Th-th-thump.

With each flash of light, his eyes close, another scene coming to his eyes as they open again, feet beating the ground as if he hated it.

Th-th-thump.

His eyes open once more, spotting what he was looking for. A public gym here in the East section was a Godsend. It was public, true, but it looked empty at the moment and he had ways to lock the doors up. He would merely close the main doors, his upper set of arms grabbing the door and opening it before him, stepping inside as if he owned the place. For now, in his mind, he did. His body whirls, his hands clapping together and his lips parting with a quiet hacking sound. His hands part after a few moments, head lowering to facilitate the effusion of silk from the quartet of glands at the back of his mouth, on each side of his throat opening, on top and bottom. Between the outstretched hands rests a beautiful, glittering strand of silk, growing longer as he pulls his hands apart, the white color far more appealing than the black mass descending from his mouth. It was far less sticky, as well, hands pressing together again, pulling apart after a moment to get even more silk.

After a few moments, he had enough for the majority of his work, hacking up the ends of the black silk from his maw and pasting one end of the white thread into it. He then chomps down with his teeth, infusing the sticky mass with his chakra, as it was called, to break beneath the strain as needed. It was the only way to manipulate the substance, pasting it to the wall on one side, a small black lump with many times the hold of industrial glue. He again chomps off a chunk, pasting a loop of white silk to it, then slapping it to the other side of the door. The black was stronger, true, but the white flexed more easily, making for more effective doorjams. After another few moments of work, he stands back to view his makeshift web to keep the door closed from the inside. Even if it were to slide open, it would take someone with great strength to pry that silk off the wall or a thin body to worm between the strands. He gives one a pluck, a musical twang coming from the strand as he turns, his hands already moving to the cloak to pull it up over his head as he steps into the gym proper.

Even the light red shirt beneath his cloak was too much at the moment, pulling his arms inside and pulling that over his head, too. He drops them both to the ground as he steps towards a large punching bag...very handy for working out aggression. His arms stretch out, all six of them, his back giving a groan of protest before bending to his whims and cracking pleasantly, his arms doing the same. His fists clench, his head already thrumming to music created by his own body, the pounding of his heart the drum for his exercise. The muscles across his bare back ripple, his thin frame revealing just how densely packed with muscle it was as it all tenses for just a moment. His mind relaxes for a moment, eyes closing even as he prepares himself to start, taking in a breath. As he exhales the last of it, his eyes snap open, breathing out a single word.

"Go."

With speed that would surprise some, the boy lances forward, only the top set of arms pistoning for the moment, an untrained but still somewhat damaging style of fighting. He'd never been one to learn hand-to-hand combat techniques, merely using his six limbs to his advantage. Between every trio of punches, he lances out with a knee, the bag rocking from the punishment, throwing out the occasional snap kick before resetting himself and driving forward with the brutal beating again. Five minutes in, his middle set of arms joins in the fray, the pace becoming all the more frantic in sound, yet all was planned. Though it looked chaotic, that was exactly the point, for with four limbs and occasionally a fifth soaring at one's foe, it was hard for the opponent to get a thought, much less a blow, in edgewise. His breath huffs from him in small clouds as sweat rolls its way down his face, trickling down his spine, as well, his lower set of arms crossed over his stomach for the moment. He could only hope that no one came along who could worm their way inside or bull through the silk, as he wanted a bit of privacy, though he hadn't thought of other side doors, if there were any. It was likely that he was going to be here for a while.

"Yes I follow Allah and he is heaven somewhere" Sevick answered.
Sevick looked at the man as spoke of the Aliens and frowned "If you really want to see the aliens there are not any here."
One of Sevick's shadows pulled him aside and out of earshot of the other man.
"Sir there is a fallen alien back at the battle site the scouts say there are only a few guard there cleaning up we should be able to use pointy."
pointy was the code name for when the CF forces would wake themselves look like elves as they were the closest in look to the humans and steal weapons and other things acting as if on orders from the Elders.
"Do it" said Sevick


The transport truck drove toward the battle zone as the humans inside finshed changing to look like Elves. The truck came to a stop near the body as the fake Elf leader stepped out and spoke to the guards near the body "We are here to pick up the body and disspose of it"

The guards looked them over then said "Ok take it away"
The fake elf leader was relived that the ruse had worked as the rest of the crew carried the body and placed it in the truck then left before anyone else could question them.

Sevick apon hear the good news walked back to the man and said "I must return to my prayers" then went back into the mosque

((you mean the Dol'Ngorn that went nuts and and my team blew its head off? Its not one of the sentient ones with the four arms, incase you misinterpereted. Or is this a different one? If so PM me and I can fill you in on what can get through that sucker's armor.)

Hunter Killer examined the creatures infront of him, the Dal'Ngoth.... no the Dal'nKel. In his language Dal meant perfect, Dol meant cursed, and Del meant forgotten. Dal'Ngoth meant perfect race, Dal'nKel meant wandering nomads, what his race was before he united them. Back when his race wandered the surface of Dul'Nborn, their origonal planet. Back when they believe peace with the Del'nKel was possible, before they realised the Del'nKel for the monsters they were.

He looked over each one, as they blundered around the room, trying to adjust to their new bodies. He moved over to the next chamber and looked in. The good half of his face parted n a smile under his faceplate. Inside were two Dol'Ngot, the nomadic form of the Dol'Ngrul, the ones that didnt start out as a Dol'Ngorn. He finally shifted over to the second to last chamber. As he expected, it was filled with Dol'Ngorn. And finally he went to the last room.... those that had been exposed for the required time but didn't change.

His smile turned to disgust as his eyes began to burn with their ancient hatred. He ran over to the panel on the wall and smashed a hand on the large red key. Inside a hiss began to fill the room as a machine emerged from the ceiling. The dazed patrons looked up at it in confusion as it began to spark. One of the sparks caught the gas and a massive inferno ignited. It incinerated everything inside in seconds. Hunter felt lucky the observation windows were 5 feet thick.... any closer would cause the heat to pour out and begin to char his flesh that wasn't covered by his carapace.

He turned to the scientist behind him with a smile, "You know what to do with the first chambers, educate them to our ways and find their abilities... the last group can go strait to duty.... I'll call in another ... say 300 prisoners to continue the project."

He walked back out of the facility and headed back for his transport.... things were looking up.... Soon his race will reach its origonal population and then some, no matter what happened on this planet Earth.

Imagine if you would, a complex creature in the entirety of it's splendor; the perfectly sculpted structures that was too inhuman- too beautiful for any insignificant being to lay their dirty hands on these now glorious grounds. Many, many years ago these disgusting simplex beings infested the Earth as if they were superior to all other life forms. Creatures were forced to remain hidden due to the number difference between the two. These creatures that showed utmost appreciation for the Gods above who finally put these crass humans in their rightful and much deserved place. Now back to these creatures that were created for nothing less than glory itself. Allow your mind to fill with the images of these complex creatures. The beings who were now free to wander around this world without the smallest bit of discrimination from any inferior being.

One of these creatures in particular was one of the night- of the shadows that little children still, in this new time, fear. A creation that was then recognized as a curse. Though now, their abilities are nothing below a blessing from the gods themselves. They bare a skin that is not only luminescent, but radiant under the moonlight. A heart below their chest that no longer moves. Their heating system nonexistent, making them more of a central cooling unit. It was these magnificent creations whom took a lovely advantage of their new promotion in the ways of life.

But plenty of years has passed since that time. Humans were now the scum on the bottom of one's shoe. In these times, they were used as slaves, and as human familiars for the creatures who live solely off of blood. There was one specific city. A city that held four districts, if you must. One in particular was a bit more optimal than the rest. It was the recreation, the entertainment. The place any creature would go to just escape from the rest of the city. The East End, was much better than the slums the humans were forced to reside in. Upon entrance to the 'Slums', one can see only that it is entirely nondescript. Filthy furnishings adorn dirty wooden walls, littered with holes. While sturdy enough to live in, it was just that. And without extensive renovations, such a place is, by and large, undesirable. Nonetheless, its proximity to the most unwanted place in the city makes it a convenient placement for housing the inferior humans. Such a place would easily allow someone, or in these times something, to be more than thankful of what they have. But that, my friend, is not how the creatures think.

It was yet another glorious day in a blessed city. Another day that a vampire would be unable to simply walk out of their current place of residence. However with new technology came new devices to ensure comfort to those who wish to remain on the go whilst locked indoors. A rather petite vampire in figure was lounged on an awfully comfortable furniture piece within her living room. The previous night had held an annoying adventure for this being. With the latest investigations she had attempted to finally corner one of her human familiars whom was acting suspicious. Unfortunately, the gods were not on her side.

Though she was no ordinary creature. Her species was notorious for their magnificent beauty. Even a simply position as lounging on a couch seemed so perfect and so posed. The beautiful feminine curves under her gossamer clothing. It was as if the vampire's body took decades to carve to such a perfection. Lengthy yet beautiful cyan hair flowed down each shoulder and rested on the couch. The skin, even in an indoor cold light, was of the utmost radiance and perfection. Such a creature...such a blessing.

A cellphone remained silent on a table opposite of the couch. Occasionally the vampire's sapphire spheres would glance warily at the device. The anticipation was almost unbearable- waiting for the phone to vibrate and echo throughout the silent room. Even she knew that the phone would most likely not set off until after night time. But until then, there she would be, waiting for her orders to set out yet again after betraying humans.

The man's movements were made almost haltingly and his speech remained stilted. He had an odd accent that she couldn't quite place. He moved closer to her, still remaining at a considerable distance, and finally, she caught her first full glimpse of his face. He had had almost boyishly good looking features once, but she was willing to bet he was a different man then. She understood perfectly.

Sandra lifted the tight shirt she wore a little, displaying the crude marks lining her stomach and marring her otherwise pale skin.

"I have been lucky enough to escape visible markings thus far, but I doubt I will be so lucky for much longer. I can see that we have some similarities."

She approached him with what seemed like one fluid motion and stood directly in front of him. Upon approaching him, she noted many more markings upon him and took in his haggard and weathered clothing. She seemed to be in the presence of a warrior; though whether or not he remained as such was still a mystery to her. She inclined her head slightly in respect and ventured, "Sandra Bowman. I am a builder from the Second District."

She did not ask, but she anticipated that he would return the favor.

The man didn't appear the slightest bit miffed when the woman lifted her shirt somewhat, peering at the scars she revealed. As she began to approach he chuckled darkly, though visibly tensed as if prepared to fight. She stopped right before him, which was easily the closest he had been to a female, or anybody for that matter, without immediately striking out in months, if not years.
Then she introduced herself as if he were a normality within the city who deserved calm and courteous attention. He stared at her for a long while, his eyes now visible as simply having no color to them, and the many scars visible like some sort of demented collage. For a while he was silent, then eventually he spoke.
"Nachytsm Encaitar." He said slowly, as if it were alien to him. "Citizen of the city. 'Bout it." He did not avert his eyes or attempt to repeat the gesture of a light bow, though he did stare for a while longer as if unsure how to proceed. It was rather obvious he was not used to encounters in which he didn't need to break something within the first few seconds of conversation, if there was any.

Enigma takes off from the dusty, Stone Ground. Flying around the Mosque twice before choosing to try and land on Sevick's Shoulder. Enigma wondered just how this man would react to him. After all, there was a small green handprint which looked like old paint on his Forhead. He knew that no one would know exactly what it meant, and as such, it might cause some Confusion to this Human. Or maybe not. Either way, Enigma wanted to create some Chaos and this man seemed like the one to bother and annoy to do it. Of course, there could be a few.. Problems.. Say, if the Man tried to kill Enigma it would become quite a complication.. Still. Enigma was tired of doing useless hits. He had an almost dying lust for some REAL targets. Perhaps, this Man would know where to go and who to kill to create more Chaos. Maybe not. The worst thing that could happen is that Enigma kills this Man and moves on. After all; Humanity is such an expendible resource.

Enigma, Enigma
Puzzle though you may be
To me, reveal your secrets, for me.
Glitter and glitz, you reveal
Perhaps a diamond you conceal
Clean off the grime and we may feel

Enigma, how much more can you be?

Li watched the lights of the North Side twinkle as she sang her silly song, relieved to be alone for the moment. There had been no rest for the Elders lately, and while she cared deeply for her city, for her people, while she was more than eager to keep her people safe from any threat there ever could be...

Li abosolutely abhorred meetings.

Rolling her eyes, Li turned away from the North Side, moving with a huff into her bedroom. It was an excellent room, the best that could be offered to someone of her position. Even so, she often felt smothered there, corralled. It made she jumpy. It reminded her of captivity. Moving quickly and without the kind of attention she usually gave to her apearance, she pulled on some robes, not exactly her fanciest, and hastily wove her hair into a complicated braid to hand down her back. A bundle of clothes was shoved into a small bag and then slung over her shoulder, and Li was out of the door of the apartment. She ignored the respectful calls and bows that followed her down the streets until she found what she was looking for, slipping into a small, modest-looking building.

Within minutes she was dressed in a pair of old sweats and a black tank top, the back pulled down to make room for her wings. She balanced a flail experimentally in her hand eyeing the tall elven man on the other side of the make-shift ring. The flail was annoyingly unleathal, the spikes having been removed and her training partner was covered in protective pads. She pulled on her own armor, eyeing the staff in her oponents hand.

"Let's do this, shall we? I have a meeting to get to," she called, pronouncing the word as a swear and pouncing into acton. 'Darkspine sure left us a pile of sh*t...' she mused.

Forget the Elders... They and the gods have silenced us and left us to rot in this forsaken planet. I should have been an Elder, I qualified for every just cause and reason, but there wer "fearful" of a foreigner... and alien... to help watchover the city. I was placed in charge of the forces that regulate to city sure.... but leading and guarding are entirly different. And what will they do If I explain I can double my guard in weeks?

They will fear I am trying to take over and stop me... giving that ... Keuql... every thing i scrapped together.... They come and they are not feared like my race.... They are seen as perfect beings... while I am stuck with the remains..... MY DOL'NGUL GET MORE RESPECT THAN ME! No... only Nal'et TRULY respects us. He is the only one to be trusted.... that is why all of our support follows him...

This project remain my race's secret to keeping order, no restrictions no fears. As long as they know nothing everything will be fine... Nal'et will know of course... he respects us... respects our grunt work against the... Humans... the Del'nKel....

This project is my and my race's secret. No one else shall know...

Hunter Killer brooded to himself in his transport as they returned back to the planet's surface and landed at his HQ. He stormed out and hurried back to his chambers and sat at his desk. He took the experiment's papers in hand and put them in the incinerator chamber near his desk, to completely remove any unwanted paper work. He wrote three reports and gave a rough barking call to his Dol'Ngul.

They came from their rooms and waited before him. He handed them three miniture cases, designed so their fangs wouldn't destroy the paperwork. "Send the full report to Nal'et, then give the "corrected" ones to the new "Head Elder" and the other.... Return once you are don... after you collect all the information from each carrier guard." Hunter watched them go then turned to look out of his window. Dark days were brewing, and this assassination only sparked the true storm to come.

He reached down and pressed a button on his desk, its small red light flashing green, "Bring in the Bounty Hunter for the examination..." He sat back and crossed all four arms behind his head. Dark days were coming....

((To the Elders, If you were at the meeting and remember my report, that WAS sappose to be in the RP but recent events told me to skip that and do this... Ignor all the information and play it off like you do not know the details of what i described. Aderas PM me ASAP!))

~North End~

The room of Nal’et’s giant office was covered in darkness, and sitting in a big comfortable leather chair, sat Nal’et, reading the latest news reports with a satisfied smirk painted across his face.
The news hologram floated in the centre of his large office, the title “Elder Assassinated” was coloured in a dark red, probably added for more of a dramatic effect by the editors. He was perfectly satisfied with the results, they had been unable to determine the actual cause of death and there were no leads to the perpetrator.

Morticus Darkspine.. He had been a nuisance from the moment he was appointed, and had been around just as long as Nal’et had been. He had always eyed Darkspine’s position, but had never been able to acquire it, not without risking his other plans. Not to mention that he always had had a tendency to make it clear that he was Nal’et’s superior. It had been hard and tedious to maintain his image of a forgiving and kind natured person when Darkspine seemed somehow aware of the ‘face behind the mask’ so to speak. But now, Darkspine was a problem no longer. It had been the perfect time for his demise. Added benefits, though admittedly perfectly planned, were his own rise in position while the Hierarchy was made somewhat unstable. Meetings had to be called, a new Elder had to take the open position, the initiation would grant this individual a considerable amount of power, political and literal in sense. It was a decision best not taken lightly, he would need someone he could mold to his visions, if not take care of quickly should they pose a threat.

”It has been a good few centuries since one of the Hierarchy has been assassinated” Nal’et thought “Had it not been Taluna’s great great great grandfather or some distant relative that acquired the position due to a supposed ‘suicide’ ?” Nal’et chuckled, the sly wolf obviously had his own plans to becoming an Elder and had done so rather nicely. After the Elders had saved Taluna from her death, the protest had died down to angry mumblings and occasional outbursts, but never open riots or attacks. Though he doubted many of the towns inhabitants had any recollection of events dating that far back.

The index finger on his right hand tapped a key on the keypad mounted into the arm-rest of his chair and the title zoomed out as the subtitles displaying information scrolled upwards, individual sections lifting up and zooming in as he scrolled down. He grimaced as he came across the section that spoke about the riots today. He had preferred to keep it quiet, but at least the Insiders had done a proper job in displaying the event and resulting destruction as an act by the ‘Chaos bandits’. There were even Obituaries for the deceased of the ‘peacekeeper’ forces!
‘Six hundred captured’ Did Hunter Killer not understand his explicit orders of going as unnoticed as possible?! Six hundred humans was simply unacceptable, he was going to have to come up with another explanation should any of the Elders decide to enquire him about this, though Darkspine wasn’t around to do just that this time.

The smirk returned on his face ‘Well, perhaps I wont reprimand him… this time.’ With another press of a button, the hologram flickered and turned off. Another press of a button caused the windows which covered the entire length of his office to turn from pitch black to normal, allowing the city lights to illuminate his office. He turned his chair towards the window, stood up and walked over to the window to watch its denizens below. ‘Where is that deformed pet of Hunter Killer with his report?’ Nal’et thought as he looked out of the window, his face showing no emotion any more. He glanced once towards one the two magical portals which were the only ones that allowed access to his office, the turned his gaze back to the world below. ‘I have a meeting to attend to..’

The bright lights of the North End were just beginning to flick on as night drew closer. Taluna watched from her room, located on the topmost floor of the grand mansion she lived in. Being Head Elder, she had only the most lavish living conditions, and her chambers displayed that. Velvet carpets, royal blue drapes, and a four poster bed that sat grandly in the center of the room.
The city was reflected in her wise eyes, two utterly calm golden pools. The end of another day. She had seen many evenings in her long lifetime, yet each one seemed to be more grand than the last. The sun was just slipping below the horizon, bathing the marvelous city in golden light. Her city. Her prosperous and thriving city, technologically advanced in every way. Taluna was a proud wolf, and her eyes glittered with this trait as they swept over the tall building.
Ever since her great, great grandfather took his place as Head Elder, every descendant after him had followed in his footsteps. There had been a wolf in the council of Elders since everyone could remember, and each of those wolves had been respected by all. She had been in the position for almost 300 years now, and had gained that same respect.
Taluna's right ear twitched as the door to her room creaked open. A familiar scent filled her nose. Sickeningly sweet like cheap perfume, with an even more overpowering aroma of Clamato juice. Disgusting.
"Yes, Wilma?" Taluna didn't turn around, and her voice was quiet, sweet and almost gentle. It was the voice she used on most servants and lowly people. The voice that made them feel as though she actually cared about them. As though she liked them. Humans especially were so dim that they actually believed her deceptions.
The elderly wolf turned, her silver tinged fur ruffling silently as she did so. Taluna inclined her head towards the woman, as though encouraging her to speak.
Wilma was horribly awful to look at. She had stubby legs that didn't really seem to go anywhere, with fat ankles. Her figure was heavy and wide, and her hands were little chubby things with fat fingers. As she shuffled towards Taluna, her forehead glistened with oil and sweat, as though simply clambering up the stairs was a workout for her. Humans, of course, were not allowed to use the elevators.
"The evening paper has arrived, your excellence." she stuttered, gasping for air between words. Her stomach heaved in and out as she spoke, and she leaned against the expensive old desk in the corner for support.
Don't touch that, you filthy, fat oaf! Taluna wanted to snap at her, but if there was one thing she learned in all her years it was that if you wanted something from lowly humans, you had to pretend you were compassionate and cared about them.
"Why thank you, Wilma." she answered, her voice dripping with sweetness. "Turn it on." At Wilma's blink of surprise at her curtness, Taluna forced herself to add, "Please."
She stumbled forward, the fat women couldn't even walk across the room without assistance. She placed the little slate of plastic she had been carrying on the floor and pressed a silver button on it. Wilma stepped back, and a hologram shot up out of the plastic. Words materialized in front of her, and Taluna was looking at the front page.
She read the words calmly, her eyes betraying nothing. Morticus, dead. He had always been weak, it was expected. But now the matter of a new elder had to be established. Nal'et would take the position until a suitable elder could be found. Though, come to think of it, Nal'et himself could be a suitable permanent elder. Perhaps.
Meanwhile, Wilma was shuffling her feet anxiously, waiting for a reaction from the always utterly calm elder. "Crazy stuff, your excellence, ain't it?" she finally said nervously.
"What?" Taluna snapped sharply, and Wilma jumped back. The annoyance on the wolf's face instantly faded, replaced with a convincingly sorrowful expression. "Yes, I do agree. Poor Morticus. I was so fond of him, and he was such a great leader. Such a shame." she shook her head. "Such a shame."

Grunting heavily, Havok took to the assault on the Solkelli vehicle. The cumbersome IFV had pestered the Resistance enough, and it destroyed Havok's car. It needed to die for that.
"Havok's to the left!" A Solkelli yelled angrily, it was obvious that the target of the raid was him. He gave a huff as he brushed beside the emplacement straddling the left flank to the IFV. Bullets traced past him as the Solkelli Infantry spun on their heels to compensate for Havok's assault. In vain, however. Reaching his target, the cumbersome LOG-12 IFV, Havok rolled into his attack. Stepping upward, he scaled the gentle sloping armor of the front of the vehicle. Stepping closer, he pulled himself up onto the IFV using his arms; swinging his now free limbs forward, his hands clenched tightly onto the copula of the IFV, giving the driver inside a quick scare.
"C'mere, you little shit!"! Havok barked, rolling himself sideways and ripping his arms from the copula as it opened, revealing the Solkelli driver, gripping a handgun.
"Havok!" The humanoid creature barked in anger as it narrowed the weapon on him; Havok was quick to the defense, his hand jutted forward and wrenched around the creature's wrist, snapping and sending the handgun skirting off of the hull of the IFV.


"Gimme' your tank, please!" Havok smiled as he pulled upward with the Solkelli's arm, the rest of his opponent's torso emerging from the confines of the LOG-12 as he pivoted his leg upward and sent a sharp kick into the side of the Solkelli's chest; who responded with a pained yell.
"Damn you!" The creature managed before Havok brought his leg back, and released the Solkelli's wrist. The broken body dropped onto the hull of the IFV, yet prepared for a counter-attack. Havok acted quickly and wrenched his hands atop the hatch-cover; with a brutal heave of effort, he brought the top of the hatch down onto the back of the Solkelli, a resounding snap crushed all life within the soldier as Havok pulled the creature from it's seat within the IFV and rolled it over the front of the vehicle. Leaping into the small command pit, Havok quickly sealed himself as the ping and pang of Solkelli firearms training on IFV that was previously theirs.
"Fuck! Th' hell'd he get our Logger?" One yelled as Havok swung the 30 millimeter Auto-cannon in action, and traced it across a group of sandbags that had one been populated by Resistance personnel; now, however, it was a free-target zone of Solkelli Shock Infantry. The resounding explosions and impacts tore into the Solkelli Infantry, firearms and chunks of Infantry armor spattered onto the walls of structures nearby.

The Resistance had held the complex desperately, the dwindling number of personnel contesting bitterly with the Solkelli Attack Team. Until Havok got his hands on the LOG-12, however. With the newest addition of equipment to the Resistances' effort, the tide quickly changed. Havok managed to scatter a large group preparing a final offensive against the crippled construct that served as the Resistances outpost within the jungle outside of the nearby city. The Solkelli were quickly defeated after their assault failed, and all Havok had to do was escort the remaining Resistance guerrillas' down the sloping hill that the outpost was situated on, and bring the battle directly to the gates of the complex. The victory was hailed by the Resistance as a glorious defeat of the fascistic Solkelli Armed Forces.

"Echo-One" Havok perked his head up as he left the confines of the LOG-12, the small device within his ear clicking to life and letting the sweet voice of a kindly woman rush into his ear.
"The one and only, December." Havok cracked a grin as two soldiers approached him, weapons lowered and hands in the air, rejoicing in the victory.
"Havok! Shit yeah! Kicked their asses!" They both smiled, Havok waved them off toward the IFV before giving them a nod and tracing his steps away from the two.
"I just got the news, looks like you busted some Solkelli's outside the city." She offered, her voice was somewhat distant and uninterested, but Havok had a hard time getting angry at her.
"Nothing major -- Just happened that I hadn't gotten my payment before the little attack. So I had to stay." He continued, his feet brushing aside a the deceased corpse of a Solkelli Infantry.
"Hmm. I never did agree with bringing you on in the first place ... " She countered, Havok sense the resentment in her voice.
"But you did anyway. So -- " He stopped, his gaze caught by the burning remnants of a building that had been torn apart by the offensive.
"Since I helped your little shit-stain base here in the jungle, I get my payment double. I want a ride, too." Havok smiled, her response picture-perfect as he heard the woman spit up a drink.
"You want double?!" She managed, her voice cut by the sheer shock of his claim.
"Damn right I do, I broke a nail hijacking a Logger." He sarcastically complained.
"Fuck. You. Havok. You did jack sh -- "
"I'll just be taking my way, then." Havok smiled as he turned his back and spun on his heel.
"Hold it a minute, Echo." She waited, Havok held himself in stance.
"I'll ... see what I can manage."

((gunna go an out of body thing and follow the Dol'Ngrul))

Stealth arrived at Nal'et's place and entered without being stopped by his guards she dropped off the case. ""I sense you are angrey with something from the riot... and you still dislike my kind," his translator made is growling voice audible to the Elder's language, "The number captured was only 300 and they were sent... to the examining rooms. The forces grow daily and the number you need will soon be met. Also Hunter Killer wishes to send his regards to your gain in seating, he still gives you his full support..."

At this Stealth turned, having dropped off her report and headed back to Hunter Killer.

Slasher entered Taluna's chambers and found her office without problem. He set both cases down and took one and moved it to where the Head Elder was. He dropped it near by and used his fangs to release the catches so she could get into the files. His size completely dwarfed hers in comparison. " The REAL reports from the riots today, no prisoners captured but the news likes to make things... complicated... If you need any thing else tell me now, for I must deliver the final report..."

Hearing nothing he turned around, gave a menacing growl to the lowly human, causing the filthy creature to drop strait to the floor where it stood. And with that he picked up the final case and went off to Li's chambers.

He entered and found her in her room, waiting for something..... He gave a short, quiet bark to alert her to his presence and approached the spot where she was and set down the final case. " My master sends his regards on your gain in seat, this is the riot report, the OFFICIAL version. No prisoners were taken due to extreme actions on the Human's part. Since that is all I must be leaving now..."

Stealth and Slasher met outside of the HQ to Hunter Killer's chambers, < I don't like this business the Dal'Ngoth are rushing around about, It is foolish and reaks of failure...[/I> Slasher turned to Stealth, <[I] What does it matter? If the damn Dal'Ngoth get themselves killed or flee then we can become a recognized race for our intelligence, not just officers and lap dogs to these brutes...> Stealth looked at Slasher, < I hope we aren't pushed into the same fate as the others... mabey we should warn the Elders so we are not falsely accused...> < What's done is done, but we may have yet to warn them before the final act is done...>

With that the teo Dol'Ngrul pretended to be their loayal, obedient selves once more and entered their master's chambers. Dark days were brooding and all three of them knew it... but the Dal'Ngoth didn't know the exact meaning...

((Valekor PM about my plot idea, I think i should fill you in.))

East Sector- some time that evening- "The Arena"

Alec sat in the tiny holding cell, merely gloves, shirt and jeans, his shirt was unbuttoned, exposing his muscular torso. The room wreaked of blood and sweat, the sound of the arena awaited him. To be a modern day gladiator, specializing in hand to hand combat, he got to fi8ght all kinds of freaks here, human or...otherwise. Had he not been a slave, he would live like a king, however his new 'Manager' wasn't the sharing sort. He stood for a moment and gave a couple short bounces to stretch his legs, then he threw a few quick jabs. He wanted to get the fight over with. It was like this every night, it isn't fear, he learned that a long time ago, It's more a heightened sense of things. He knew the room was hot and muggy, he couldn't tell... he couldn't 'feel' the heat, but he knew it was there. The crowd's sudden roar told him what was next. He made a fist, his blue leather gloves stretched across his knuckles, the four metal studs on each glove pressed against his skin. He stepped to the door, just as it slid open. He stepped out into the light, followed both cheers and insults. He threw a couple more jabs for the crowd as then announced his opponent. All he could do was wait.

Billie crawled out of whatever hell hole she had gotten herself into, her trusty MP5K PDW in her hand. Half her face was covered in a mixture of blood and soot. She wore a dangerously hateful scowl on her face and stalked over to her fellow comrades as if they had each had a bullet with their names on it. In her gun. Before she was even within earshot, she let a stream of cuss words, cursing Havok and the Solkellis that now lay dead at their feet.

“Fuckin’ ‘avok! ‘E almost killed me” she spat blood as she reached the two soldiers between her and Havok before wiping the black residue that had been left. She chuckled, a dance of death wasn’t uncanny for her and something as small as Havok almost shooting her wasn’t something to get up in arms about. She smirked a rugged grin at the soldiers as they laughed at her.

She had a bad habit of bringing bad circumstances down on her head. Today was no different. She had gone cowboy on her small squad and broke away from the fleet in an effort to ‘Die balls to the wall.’ They were out-manned, though not uncommon, it looked like a downhill battle and Billie had acted irrationally. This kind of behavior wasn’t unlikely and it made her both a great mercenary and a liability. Sometimes her brash behavior would lead to a successful mission and other times it lead to a whole lot of shit. Either way, Billie refused to apologized and wouldn’t admit regrets. She was young, hard-headed and acted as if she were invincible.

The three continued to joke around, waiting for Havok to return to them with either good or bad news. Billie feel silent as she stared off into the distance for a second before bringing her gun to eye level and letting off a round of shots.

She lowered her gun, and squinted her eyes, “My bad, false alarm.” She turned to see the other two glaring at her with disapproval, “What?! I thought I saw one of those Selk-bitches so I-- You know what, fuck the both of you!”

Hunter sat at his desk and picked up the message he just recieved from Nal'et. He leaned back in his chair and read its contents and set the document off to the side and went through the remaining documents. He was still waiting for that bounty killer to show up. After his thuroughly combed through the reports and orders he put them in the incinerator. He thought about his men in the Riot guard... there were too many for his taste. He took the message and recorded the important details into his records... Then he burned the message. He leaned forwards and pressed a button on his panel.

"Hello, yes its the Genral. Look I feel that we have too many men in the Riot guard and we are using too many patrols at the same time.... yes, Plan: Omega. The bare minimum... say three per unit.... and the patrols.... lets say three..... no leave the commanding unit, we still want them back alive..... that is all..."

He released the button on his desk and leaned back again. He recieved an alert in the VOX link in his helmet and he tuned in. The sixth group to undergo the complete exposure is in, and it shows even more good results for the Dal'Ngoth. Hunter Killer breathed in from his air canisters and shifted himself into a more cofortable position, today seemed to end on a happy note after all.

((DISCLAIMER- Daidora has no preference nor concept of gender...As I am using his/her method of thought...gender changes throughout the post. To help you I've organized it so that the alteration is male-female-male-female...sorry if this causes confusion))


Each creature is born unique.

Thrown into the fires of life, each man, woman, or otherwise earns an identity based on how they face challenges and what methods employed to overcome them.

So it is that no two creatures are alike in either mind or body…the world itself was built on the cornerstone of diversity and continued on the path of nuances throughout the long and winding years.

What was one without identity?

Furthermore…what was a shapeshifter but the antithesis of identity?

Daidora had been born…that was all he knew. Who her parents were, what they did, even their names were lost to the unsaid words that filled the dusty past of the doppelganger.

He had no age…no birthday…for her appearance changed more often than weather…and each face brought its own history.

Daidora…it was a name he had decided to go by after long years of thought and consideration. Before, names were useless syllables which fell away like water on leaf when applied to the doppelganger. After all, who could fathom a monster who wore the false faces of others as if they were her own, ever having something as precious as a name?

Taken for granted, shortened, and changed...the name seemed the most abused privilege in the eyes of the sexless beast.

Dai…a man’s name…strong, fatal, and dangerous.
Dora…a woman’s name…gentle, peaceful, and soft.

Daidora…it was the only name she could fathom as her own.

Now an elder had been assassinated…the four were broken.

One would need to fill the gap.

Daidora had heard several potential candidates were already rising to make themselves known through the army or their own personal experience…that they had set their eyes on the vacant positions and were employing all tactics in order to achieve it.

But it was useless of course...

Each candidate whom had seemed a threat to the doppelganger’s credentials had ended up dead within the last month, murdered in a mysterious fashion.

In each case, it appeared a direct subordinate had masterminded the murder although no prior cause or reason had been identified.

Each face…each face was another identity his to control…his to command…his to warp and change as he saw fit.

The smile of a sister could remain the same as it always had been…even as she buried a sword into a brother’s chest.

A father could massacre his own children while laughing the same laugh he had used just the other day while playing with them outside.

To the doppelganger…nothing was sacred.

She was the creature with no ID
And every ID

Now clad in a simple cloak, the monster awaited judgment in the grand Meeting Hall of the Elders. No one had granted him admission, but it was hardly a trifle for a master of espionage to arrive where he was neither expected nor invited. Now she knelt, grey-green skin on her thin arms and legs bristling with calluses and small bumps like dewdrops of cement. Massive black eyes gazed forward with a deathless stare. The doppelganger had no eyelids…its true form was nothing more than a sham of creation…the essence of structural banality.

Daidora waited…knowing full well the elders would not…could not…turn him down.

She was their answer to the human rebellion…embodied in this nexus of faces sitting so serenely in the center of their assembly.

He would bring great abilities to the Elders…this child of every face but his own…and now he awaited their decision confidently.

Wishing she could smile with a face that had no mouth.

"Thank you, Slasher."

Taluna forced herself not to flinch in disgust as he drew near. Wretched creatures they were. She took the smallest of pawsteps back, ears twitching with irritation. But of course, Slasher wouldn't notice. All brawn and no brain, that's what those creatures were.

She thanked him again for opening the case, but he was already on his way out. Taluna stiffened in annoyance yet again as he scared the wits out of her servant, a very convincing action. "Was that really necessary?" she said quietly, before turning to the reports.

Survivors, 0. Prisoners, 0. Those numbers meant nothing to her, they were the same every time; just a reminder of how prosperous and strong her city was. She pushed the papers aside dismissively, sitting up on her haunches. Twilight had settled, the sky a dark shade of gray against the lights of the North End.