Announcements: Cutting Costs (2024) » January 2024 Copyfraud Attack » Finding Universes to Join (and making yours more visible!) » Guide To Universes On RPG » Member Shoutout Thread » Starter Locations & Prompts for Newcomers » RPG Chat — the official app » Frequently Asked Questions » Suggestions & Requests: THE MASTER THREAD »

Latest Discussions: Adapa Adapa's for adapa » To the Rich Men North of Richmond » Shake Senora » Good Morning RPG! » Ramblings of a Madman: American History Unkempt » Site Revitalization » Map Making Resources » Lost Poetry » Wishes » Ring of Invisibility » Seeking Roleplayer for Rumple/Mr. Gold from Once Upon a Time » Some political parody for these trying times » What dinosaur are you? » So, I have an Etsy » Train Poetry I » Joker » D&D Alignment Chart: How To Get A Theorem Named After You » Dungeon23 : Creative Challenge » Returning User - Is it dead? » Twelve Days of Christmas »

Players Wanted: Long-term fantasy roleplay partners wanted » Serious Anime Crossover Roleplay (semi-literate) » Looking for a long term partner! » JoJo or Mha roleplay » Seeking long-term rp partners for MxM » [MxF] Ruining Beauty / Beauty x Bastard » Minecraft Rp Help Wanted » CALL FOR WITNESSES: The Public v Zosimos » Social Immortal: A Vampire Only Soiree [The Multiverse] » XENOMORPH EDM TOUR Feat. Synthe Gridd: Get Your Tickets! » Aishna: Tower of Desire » Looking for fellow RPGers/Characters » looking for a RP partner (ABO/BL) » Looking for a long term roleplay partner » Explore the World of Boruto with Our Roleplaying Group on FB » More Jedi, Sith, and Imperials needed! » Role-player's Wanted » OSR Armchair Warrior looking for Kin » Friday the 13th Fun, Anyone? » Writers Wanted! »

0
followers
follow

Test Subject Omega-6 "Apostle"

"They call me Apostle."

0 · 354 views · located in Fallorn

a character in “Aboard The Jackal”, as played by Redred33mer

Description

Image


The Navigator


Name: ---

Alias: "They call me Apostle."

Gender: Conceivably Male

Age: Two

Height: 6'2"

Weight: 468 lbs.

Nationality: Iskadale

Appearance: As seen, Apostle has the appearance of a taller man sporting dark blue, heavy armor covering the entire exterior. In between different plates of armor is a sort of heavier, impermeable gel-like mesh, especially around the elbow, knee and neck. Because nothing below the suit can be seen, it is often questioned if Apostle is a man or not; a male voice is the only thing indicative of any gender or possibility of being human. His opaque orange and red visor conceals any deeper identity he may have. There are pieces of cloth tightly bound to his body, with the exception of one at his belt, which he has used and replaced for first-aid bandages for people wounded in battle. A sort of power generator with nearly impenetrable armor attaches to his back. As it is the only generator that creates the needed resources for his suit, he tries not to take it into battle with him, and when it is not on him, thinner armor is revealed in the back.

Apostle keeps two canisters and plenty of ammo clips on his persona, decorating rather blank parts of his body. The canisters are used to create a smoke screen if numbers worked against him. He always keeps with him a ninety caliber rifle that shoots at the slow rate of 250 rounds per minute.

Abilities: As an individual equipped for war, Apostle has deadly accuracy with firearms. His physical strength is remarkable, though not superhuman. He has an adept strategic mind, and has been complimented with "always being where he needs to be." While fighting hand to hand, most of his techniques are used to incapacitate, not necessarily kill. He is also not the greatest of martial artists, a reason he prefers firearms.

Although he has these more positive abilities, perhaps the most deterrent of his abilities is the ability to feel pain. Surviving a strong hit to the joint, a shot to the stomach, or a big fall doesn't mean he won't be winded or disoriented.

Loyalty: Rebels/Western Alliance - Iskadale has tried to manipulate Apostle and his identity, and in some ways succeeded in doing so. However, knowing this, Apostle has pledged himself to any and all resistance to Iskadale.

Personality: Apostle's tone is very mechanical, adding to the question of whether or not he is actually a living person or an incredibly intelligent AI. He's never been heard to laugh, though he is able to use sarcasm and satire to further his ideas. These traits further the notion that Apostle is more likely a robot than a human. Apostle also does his best not to make any word on the subject of his existence and origins, only responding with "Well, what do you think I look like?"

Though he can seem detached of any and all emotions, he has a clear bias against the Brinn Coalition. When people do or say tings that could be seen as rather stupid, he has no problem in correcting them, sometimes with an edge. He can be quick to interject in a conversation where someone says something that's factually wrong, or there is an opinion stated he can't find a way to cope with. This may lead some to perceive him as hot-headed.

History: Apostle's history is a bit difficult to explain, and is broken into what he knows and what he doesn't.

What Apostle doesn't know is that he was born thirty three years ago in Iskadale in one of its more industrious cities. His father was a mechanist, working to produce military and war goods. His mother died in child birth as the dictatorial means of Iskadale had created a shortage of medical supplies in the city at the time, leaving medical staff in hospitals under-equipped for their jobs.

In the early part of his life, his paternal grandparents took care of him as his mother's parents were dead. His father, Orthus Kaid, would take the boy when he was four and older to where he worked. There, Orthus' son would become literate and able-bodied. The manager's condition was only that the child would not slow production or cause disruption. Early on, discipline would be instilled in him. He would go on to be employed with his father when he was ten, but as he worked, he felt something missing. He felt no incentive to work, it just seemed something everyone does.

Apostle in his early life led a rather mundane existence until his later adolescent years. However, being impoverished and hungry were things that never escaped him and his environment. He would study why Moljin prospered and why Iskadale seemed so stodgy a place to live. This would eventually get him into trouble, as he started speculating his ideas with colleagues at work. Some that were more conscientious about their business warned against talking about such ideas, but by then it was too late. Some had already accused Orthus and his son of working with insurgents. It wasn't long after they would be imprisoned, and his father would be killed during arrest.

Taken to a prison far away from society, he would work in hard labor off of scant food for several years. When he was twenty five, he would be chosen by the government to undergo a military research project that was struggling to yield results. About thirty prisoners were selected to experiment on, and were all transported to a different facility with no immediate contact to civilization.

From here on is what Apostle knows.

Apostle knows that at this point, he would become known as Test Subject Omega-6 "Apostle," which is where he attained his alias. This would be the last selection of people to be provisioned for Project Solidus. Many abducted prisoners died in biological augmentation, which involved synthetic protein and enzyme injections. If they were to live past that, they most likely did not live past infusion with their armor suit.

Mobility with the armor suit would be taken care of by biological augmentation made prior. The outer plating was made to withstand 80 caliber bullet impacts, and minimal explosive impact. The suit would function to maintain homeostasis and provide tactical information to the user. It would obtain energy from the generator that could attach to the user's backside, weighing nearly one hundred pounds itself, and could charge the suit's nineteen hour battery in two hours. What made assimilating with the suit particularly dangerous was that the computer in the suit interfered with brain activity. If assimilation was successful, the user would have a geographical database of the world, the ability to hack digital systems (given the time to crack encrypted codes) with the suit's computer, a superbly powerful mathematical calculator and detection of lethal threats. Because of the computer's ability to access the brain, it has an infinitely vast memory space and a great deal of processing power. However, it was also used by designers to disrupt any personal memories before their assimilation into the suit.

Only four subjects survived. The four that lived were lied to by the scientists who made them into what they are, and led them to believe they were androids fabricated by Iskadale to serve benevolent leadership that led a war against corrupt, biased hierarchies. However, ingrained into Apostle's personality was the need to question things that seemed to hold no basis.

Why do we have the design of human-like structures? Why can I think independently if I have a clear purpose? Why are our own people discontented with our own government? These were all questions Apostle asked at one point or another, and it was found difficult to give a calm reply.

In the year after, he would undergo training to become masterful in his armored body. Early on, he learned to hack computer systems, and used this knowledge to hack the facility's databases out of a lack of trust and discovered information the scientist's would rather him not know. With the facts he was unearthing, his three teammates were pit against him only three months into his training. Fortunately, Apostle managed to intercept their directives before they had to enact them the next morning. He abandoned the facility, having to kill some on the way, and initiated the facility's self-destruct command prompt, killing almost all personnel related to Project Solaridus, including his three teammates. Iskadale never let their failures reach the public.

Wandering among the lands, he joined the Liberators rebel faction. Almost immediately after, the war started up, and for some years the Liberators relied on the vast knowledge of Apostle to coordinate their irregular troops in the towns in southwestern Iskadale. It wouldn't be until the fourth year, when rebels posed an increasingly great threat, that the most elite of Iskadale's ranks would be sent to destroy the Liberators. Only Apostle survived that month-long skirmish.

With elites trying to hunt him down, he made as many friends as he could along his way to Moljin. In his ventures across the country, he met Adria and the rebel faction she was part of. Proving his worth in a number of ways on the battlefield. As the war wound down, Apostle had no hesitation in joining Adria's crew when she asked, as she seemed quite competent a person. However, because he has been hunted so vigorously, Apostle tries to keep his duties aboard the ship. The only time he would leave the ship are to either move heavy cargo, fight against large enemy forces, or if the captain has something for him to do on the exterior.

Family: Apostle has no living relatives, and is not aware of it.

So begins...

Test Subject Omega-6 "Apostle"'s Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Test Subject Omega-6 "Apostle" Character Portrait: Adria Del Korinth Character Portrait: Finn Lowell
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

A stool sat next to a table in the rear of the bridge, where Apostle spent most of his nights. He didn't have the ability to sleep and let the time pass, to gain the energy back he lost during the day, to simply feel what it's like to rest; the suit was made to provide him with everything he needed to live. He was awake, all the time, and usually spent his time in the bridge. He was confined to a thick metal Shell in which he would carry on his existence. Sometimes it proved difficult to.

Silence was always with him when no one else was. When everyone else experienced what it was to be human while he was made to be a machine, he carried with him silence as a companion. In fact, he wondered if Finn even knew he sat there.

Eventually, the darkness outside turned into a dim light as early morning came. Soon enough, the identity of an unknown entity was asked for by the Jackal's current pilot. The delayed reesponse was the explosiĂłn of bombs outside. Then the alarms went off.

It seemed that all was going south, and fast. Iskadalians were on the attack with fighters and some infantry in the surrounding area. Apostle stood from his stool in the back of the bridge with maps spread out on the table; he could do all the navigation on his suit's computer, but it seemed to him courtesy to the rest of the crew to have a copy of where they were going. The vehicle rolled along at a steady thirty miles per hour, and it was time to do some figuring.

"To attack now, as a Western Alliance ship, might be seen as an act of war by Iskadale. And I'm not led to think any of us are ready for another war so soon," he said openly.

"If we maintain a speed of thirty miles per hour..." He began shuffling papers around and checking the maps he had against his computer's; everything seemed to be in check. The distance to the border was accurate, they were on course, and nothing major seemed to be blocking their path.

"At the speed we're going at, and with the amount of damage they're doing to us, there is no hope they have of destroying or stopping us. But that means we might be heading into a trap; maybe a minefield," Apostle added to the conversation he seemed to be having only with himself. But even so, everything was said in almost the same tone, staying somtimes mundanely factual.

"Finnlay, make sure the scanners are functional. We need to make sure we're clear of any surprises for the next ninety seconds until we cross the border," the mechanical man told the pilot. "Do not proceed over any detected obstructions. Someone needs to get these fighters out of the sky before they make some serious environmental hazards."

Apostle went to take hold of a pencil; with his oversized fingers, it was a bit difficult for him to write. Sometimes, his penmanship was criticized as "chicken scratch," but he could read every word of it. He marked the road they were on, and marked where the attack began with an X.

The situation was looking up for the Jackal now, as long as everyone was able to keep their cool and do their jobs. But now what they needed was their captain, Adria. She's the one everyone on their crew invested their respect in, and she's also the one that could command it without question.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Test Subject Omega-6 "Apostle" Character Portrait: Solia Kleopas Character Portrait: Adria Del Korinth Character Portrait: Darya Character Portrait: Finn Lowell
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

The sky thundered with the pounding of munition shells. All around her, Iskavalian soldiers rushed forward through the broken buildings. Moljin’s front had all but collapse as the Coalition’s iron tide rolled over. Large towers frowned down upon the lone tank commander as she stared defiantly back. The were taunting her, cursing her for ordering the brilliant bombs to befall them. It was the fifth day of the Uena campaign, and Adria grew tired of waiting for victory.

“Division Commander!” Adria looked down as a stormtrooper snapped to attention. How peculiar it was for such formalities to be followed in such 
 uncivilized circumstances. “Mantis Brigade reports Moljin forces routed on the right flank!”

Finally Adria thought as she reached down to her headset. Division Commander Dugard’s attrition ‘strategy’ had proven ineffective thus far. What progress he made in four days, Adria had done more in one. “Wolf Brigade. Final contingency has been satisfied,” she dismissed the trooper as he rushed by to his squad, “there will be no quarter for any Moljin soldier or civilian. The Supreme Commander demands we purify the filth; let us liberate them from Moljin’s corruption.”

As a chorus of acknowledgements crackled in her headset’s receiver, her command vehicle began to move. Its gears groaning in protest due to the weight.

Her hardened gaze stared into the distance as her forces swarmed across the streets. The sweet sound of gunfire filled the air in gusto as the screams of the innocent begged for a mercy she conditioned her Division to forget. As she advanced, Mantis and Lion swept in from her flanks. Soon enough, a steel net would be cast around Uena. Nothing would get past.

A feral smile cracked across her grease smeared face. She could only imagine Dugard’s expression as she humiliated his efforts. Iskadale demanded the strongest; List, her true home, demanded the strongest. Today, she would show how the weak die before the strong. Such was the truest way to live.

Her tank rumbled forth as troopers moved around her. Some soldiers collapsed to the ground from pockets of Moljin resistance who were soon after mercilessly cut down with Iskavalian steel. Adria turned in time to see a child and her mother huddled by a broken wall. A dispute amongst the soldiers holding them at point ongoing. She ordered her tank to stop and jumped to the ground below. Dressed in armored tank fatigues, she walked over to the group.

A small band of shook troopers accompanied her, their eyes scanning the surrounding environment in earnest. The group she walked towards stiffened as they saw her approaching. Adria stood before them but looked at the little girl. “Why haven’t you disposed of them?”

“I — she’s — Ma’am, she’s just a girl. Can’t be older than my daughter.”

Adria nodded. She understood but didn’t at the same time. Everything was so clear. She unholstered her firearm. “As soldiers of the Coalition, we’ve been given explicit orders,” she said. “To disobey is to disrupt the operation of the division. I can’t allow that. A gear must be repaired or replaced.”

A soldier stepped up. Four bars lined his shoulder. A sergeant. “A recent transfer ma’am. Still getting use to our protocol.”

A dangerous glint entered Adria’s eyes. Decision, decisions she thought. How to salvage this situation. She rose her sidearm as she pointed it at the mom and daughter. “A personal demonstration then.”

—

“No!”

Adria woke up. A sheet of sweat formed on her brow as she sucked in air. It took her a moment before realizing she was in her quarters aboard the Jackal. Christ that dream felt so real she thought to herself. She rubbed her throbbing head as she heard her name being called on the intercom. For once, she was glad for the wake up call.

She got up from her bed and pulled on a jacket over her hydration suit. She never bothered to take it off before sleeping. It was a hassle to put on in the first place. Quickly tying the laces on her boots, she was dressed and ready to go.

When she walked out of her quarters was when everything started going to hell. First, she heard the distant boom as the Jackal shuddered. Then what was far away rocked the ship altogether. She smelled the stench of sulfur.

She rushed onto the deck arriving just in time to hear Finn’s conversation with what she assumed was Jinntok, Apostle reading out navs, and Solia complaining about the damage.

Ignoring Solia for now, she moved and looked out an observation window. Those were Iskavalian fighters alright. “Evade those bombs Finn. You better not let them hit my goddamn ship anymore than they have,” she said. She nodded to Apostle. “I thought we set a course that didn’t cross the border. What the hell happened?”

Finally, turning her attention to Solia, she said, “Grab a headset and head down to engineering. Make sure that shield generator holds until we make it Jinntok. Fetch the brat if you need help.” Adria joined Apostle on navigation as she stared at his ‘chicken-scratch’. “Firing on them would send everything into a whirlpool of shit. Apostle, we need the most direct route to Jinntok. Plot it and give the heading to Finn. Do it quick.”

Adria donned the command deck’s radio headset. “Jinntok Military Outpost, this is cargo ship Jackal transit ID M0872J.”

She released the transmit as she listened to static until it cleared and a voice came through. “Go ahead Jackal.”

“I’ve got some Iska fighters really frackin' humping the bunk. Work your magic before I light ’em up and start another frackin' war— all in self defense of course. ”

The radio fell silent for a moment before the operator came back on. “Warning message sent,” the operator said. Adria could hear the barely restrained annoyance in his voice. “Border patrol should be inbound momentarily. Be advised that the Jackal will be locked down upon entry into Jinntok. The Base Commander wants a debrief on why Iska's on our side strafing a supply vehicle. Anything else you need updating on?”

Adria blinked. “Excuse me? We’ve got supplies, that you need. Check that attitude, trooper.”

She disconnected. Oh how she wanted to sock the operator in the face. Of course, the poor, poor man was just doing his job, but the last thing she wanted was to debrief. Oh how those awkward conversations could get. Hell, she didn’t even know why the damn Iskavalian military were hounding them in the first place. Served her right for sleeping in.

Adria changed her line to the Jackal’s internal radio frequency. Those on the bridge could hear her even with the bombardment. Mechanical? That was a different matter altogether. “Solia, you read me?” she said into the mic as she came to a stop by Apostle. “Border patrol’s on their way people. Finn, keep doing what you’re doing. Apostle, updates whenever they should arise.”

A bomb — barely several feet away — rocked the ship as Adria gripped the table. “For fracks sake! Those fighters aren’t messing around.”

She glanced out from the observational window again. In the distance, tiny specs were fast approaching them. She laughed to herself. In different life, she’d order her AA vehicles to tear them up; now, she felt an ounce of relief as they came to the Jackal’s aid.

What a fan-frackin-tastic way to start off another shitty day.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Test Subject Omega-6 "Apostle" Character Portrait: Solia Kleopas Character Portrait: Adria Del Korinth Character Portrait: Darya Character Portrait: Finn Lowell
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Darya stared off into the distance, chin propped in palms, elbows messily splayed on the kitchen counter she was supposed to be using for preparing the crew’s meals. Ha, what a joke. Cooking was just not her thing and after she had figured it was not her thing, she had begun a bad habit of day dreaming in the galley, resulting in rushed meals and a slowed pace in developing any culinary skills.

And it's not like she had been working on those skills prior to joining The Jackal. She couldn’t remember a time she had, had to extensively interact with the galley in her father’s Storm Hunting land ship. Back then, cooking had been last on her list of things to do. Her most extensive interactions had been limited to purifying drinking water for the team and snatching scraps of food for her siblings when the chef's weren't looking.

Sighing, she quickly began assorting whatever ingredients and materials she thought would make for good meals throughout the day. Utensils clanked against each other violently as she frustratedly picked up and threw aside things in a process that had become a ritual part of her daily adventure in the galley.

What had made her join another crew after so desperately wanting to escape her father’s? Well, for starters, this was most definitely not a Phrax Hunting crew. And, secondly, they had saved her from the horrible faith of serving thieves for, likely, the rest of her life. Using her weird water purifying power, it was a huge possibility that the thieves would have never let her escape. And, while they had provided uncanny escape from her father, his crew, and their phrax obsession, she was frightened and unhappy in their prescene.

Once rescued and on the ship, she had been designated a total of two jobs. One, she could happily claim. Being the nurse of crew, while tedious in the actions of patching everyone up, was not something she had an aversion too. Being the chef on The Jackal on the other hand, was not something she liked to do. As mentioned before cooking was not her thing. But she was glad to have something to do when she wasn’t wrapping someone up. She would just have to learn how to cook, and while she did, the crew would just have to suffer with her present cooking.

As she piled together a myriad of items, she heard a more than unsettling boom, and The Jackal shook dangerously. The alarm lights brightened, flashing red in Darya’s vision. Her first instinct probably should have been to make a b-line for the bridge. Not that she had any duties there, but if the ship went down, she would have liked to be where she was sure everyone else was. Instead, she took her precious time grouping her materials back together and shoving them in the tightest corner possible in hopes that another hit would not send them sprawling.

Then, she made her way down the central hallways to the bridge just in time to hear Adria tell Solia,

“Grab a headset and head down to engineering. Make sure that shield generator holds until we make it Jinntok. Fetch the brat if you need help.”

Eh. She assumed brat referenced herself, and, being that brat, she froze at the doorway of the bridge. It didn’t make sense, going any further, if she was going to be dragged right back to the galley, down the hatch, and to the engineering room. Of course, once again assuming, that Solia was going to need her help. It was a bit distressing, knowing she had least amount of skill on the ship, though she figured it came with her age.

Pressing herself against the walls of the hallway, she waited patiently for Solia to come through, and either notice her, or rush by, in which case she would be fine sticking her neck in what was going on, on the command deck. It was always a pleasure to see the crew in action.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Test Subject Omega-6 "Apostle" Character Portrait: Adria Del Korinth Character Portrait: Finn Lowell
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

"Listen robot, if I wanted the FAQs I'd skim the manual."

Apostle took the moment to lean on the pilot's chair and look down at Finnlay.

"Now I know who to come for if we run into a trap," Apostle smoothly retorted to the sarcastic comment. The encased body then stood and turned its attention to the Adria, as she questioned why they were off course.

"At about midnight, captain, we reached Abristol bridge. The bridge was out; an alternate route staying within Moljin's borders may have delayed us two or more days. Going through contested borders would only delay us four hours," he answered Adria. He knew he was playing with fire when he went upon his own initiative to go through the borders, but they had survived far worse. This was only the tip of the iceberg.

"The present Iskadalian firepower was no match for our shields and armor to begin with. It seems friendly forces were thrown in for kicks," Apostle added in. Reasoning his decision soundly, he took a seat back on the stool he so comfortably claimed as the navigator's, the map still on the table beside him, in which he rested his arm upon. His deed was done; they were on to Jinntok with barely a hitch, so long as Finnlay's arrogance served the crew right and there were no obstructions between the ship and their destination. He watched as explosions went off overhead and in front of them.

It was interesting how Adria declared she might start another war "all in self-defense, of course." Those who studied recent history closely may have saw through the scandalous medial lies that say Moljin was just too nosy. It was civil unrest in Iskadale that had set the trigger off; with Moljin fearing war they gave arms support to the rebels, and it set off the war they had survived; these were things only those who were there firsthand say. But Apostle wondered if surviving was all that great, for they were left with the horrific memories of the war.

"We'll be there in no time," he said openly. Taking a deep, quiet breath, he let himself relax as best he could. It was difficult to shake the tensity he carried for years on since his release from the science lab. He knew he was a prisoner before test subject, but he had to wonder why he was a prisoner to begin with.

"It doesn't matter now," he forced himself to believe. "It doesn't matter now..."