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The Resistance...

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The Resistance...

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Moonwolf on Thu Oct 26, 2006 1:20 am

The damage on Wing City left many warriors devastated. Those who had been travelling when the mass tragedy occured returned immediately to aid the city in what they could now. A group of headstrong and ever-loyal magic-users and power knights grouped together to form a stout resistance.
Their logo is a symbol of a eight winged angel with a sword in the middle and a circle emblem. This has been carved into areas where enemy forces were ambushed and disposed of.

Not associating themselves with the various other survivor factions, this group compromised of not helpless, but well armed and ready to fight units in high morale. Taking shelter and governing their small army in the underground ruins of an old hotel. They scavenged firearms and left behind weapons by fallen fighters, the four entrances to the group are heavily guarded by groups of magicians, wizards, knights, and tech-users.

Numbering well over fifty but keeping lower than a hundred and fifty skilled fighters. They group together in several groups and scatter around the city in a attempt to clear up several of enemy forces, look for military supplies, food. And bring survivors to help centers, or bury the dead. Calling themselves the "War Intelligence Neutrals Group Elite Division" (W.I.N.G.E.D).

Any skilled warrior that survives after the aftermath of the great battle in Wing City is welcome to join forces with the WINGED and make attempt after attempt against the enemy forces.

W.I.N.G.E.D.'s Home Page

Slogan: "Fight until we fall, then rise and fight again!"

To Join: Either just barge into a random squall going on and assist them, or post a short roleplaying idea here, and how you may aid the city in it's time of need.

Leader: Leon Gray (Pending)
Supplies-In-Charge: Arcus Sol (Pending)
Weapons-In-Charge: Moonwolf (Pending)
Operations Planner: Ryand-Smith (Pending)

Admin note: No can do on the actual forum titles, those are reserved for other purposes. You can go ahead and removed the "Pending" status, if you want. It's freeform. I also have added a link to your clan page, which is something like your base of operations. Thanks! -Eric

-Eric Martindale will do the perfect honour of conferring the titles and confirming them.
Last edited by Moonwolf on Sat Oct 28, 2006 8:30 pm, edited 2 times in total.

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Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Arcus Sol on Thu Oct 26, 2006 7:34 am

Arcus sauntered in, his body carrying the swagger of an unchallenged prize fighter. His straight blond hair fell just short of his shoulders, while his icy blue eyes darted about the premise, seeking to take as much in as he could.

He came to a stop, shoving his hands into his pockets and leaning a slightly back. His hair rippled as his head leaned into this motion, and his eyes ceased their darting motion. He spoke in a surprisingly cool and soothing voice, exhibiting his intentions.

"I'm in."

He reached back to adjust the scythe he had upon his back, a massive incarnation of a former farm tool. Tucking his left thumb under the strap at his shoulder, he pulled the weapon up close to his body. He brought the hand back down to a small piece of paper, which he leaned off to pin to the bulletin board here. On the paper was written his communication frequency, should anyone need to contact him. He glanced around once more before finally making himself scarce, disappearing off into the rubble of the city.

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Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Leon Gray on Thu Oct 26, 2006 7:56 am

"W.I.N.G.E.D? ..... Very....interesting..."

He was in the city after it had been attacked initially, and miraculously, survived. When he saw the warring forces clash, he wondered what all there was he could do. Of course, he would fight against the 'bad guys' that we're ravaging the city. But there were two other groups, and how was he supposed to deal with it?

In a grasp of genius he looked toward W.I.N.G.E.D, and the potential in his brain came to life.

Stepping forward, he came side to side with Arcus Sol. In the middle of the ravished land stood nearly one hundred a fifty, determined men. But had they a place to go? A leader to rule? He didn't want to self-appoint himself, but he took the honor of rising up onto a crushed rock, raising his fist into the air and looking towards the sky.

"The citizens of Wing City...Members of Winged....I speak to you now."

He lowered his fist, gathering their attention with charismatic grace.

"Today our city was ravaged, and now a war is being fought for it. Little do I know about such things, I am an ordinary man myself. But nonetheless, the enemy shall pay for what they did here today."

He walked higher on the torn boulder, stepping into the sun where his figure gleamed. He wore a rugged trench-coat, brown, dusty. He looked just like your average businessman. His boots had the same appearance as his jacket, covered in dust and horribly mauled. But the thing that stood out most was the look in his eyes. Intelligence and honor, determination. It was what could be seen in a hero.

"My friends...follow me...unto victory!"

A powerful leader was what a small but powerful group needed. He had the brains, he just hoped he would be accepted by them. And if not, being the average soldier was for the same cause.

As Arcus Sol left, he turned as well, pulling a pen out of his pocket, writing down his frequency. He waved once to the restiong men and went off.
(Email: <---Best way to contact)

"Listen man, if I attempt to Spaghettify you, you WILL be spaghettified. No freakin' way around that. Seriously. God."

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Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Moonwolf on Fri Oct 27, 2006 7:24 am

The demon wolf sat in a corner of the ruined building, sharpening rapiers and throwing them aside. He had been the one who rallied some of the forces in the W.I.N.G.E.D while the others followed and joined as well.
He was not a member of it yet, denying all requests. But now, he had decided he wanted to be a part of the action, at last.

He beckoned men to take the papers already signed by the men and set up a stand near the almost-caved-in entrance. He placed a pen on the table and sat on a chair, sharpening a battleaxe.
After minutes of hesiatation, he took up the pen and wrote his own name and frequency on it.
Then he looked up in anticipation of who would come too, after a bit, he returned to sharpening the weapons.

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