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Jack Rousimoff

"Pick on someone your own size."

0 · 131 views · located in The Wasteland

a character in “The Age of Gifted”, originally authored by thebagel264, as played by RolePlayGateway

Description

Image

Full Name:
Jack Rousimoff

Nicknames/Aliases:
King Kong. The Giant. "That big guy."

Age:
20

Gender:
Male

Gift:
Superior strength, scaling walls.

Loyalty:
Erubescian, Knight

Description:
Standing at 7'7" and weighing 580 pounds, Jack stands out easily. He is muscular and bulky, and an imposing figure. He has fair skin, with amber eyes, and dark blond hair. His hands are twice as large as average, and he has size 20 shoes. He is a marvel to admire, and a monster to go up against. He has a small scar on his chest near his heart, as well as horizontal stretch marks on his back.

Personality:
Although Jack may be gigantic and the strength of a team of ox, he never wanted to be a fighter. He never wanted to be a knight. He wanted to be an alchemist, or a musician. His hands are too big to do either of those things now. He would rather make people smile, and does not aim to go hurt people, but he will if it is for Erubesco. Jack is selfless, and usually puts others before himself. He is very polite and kind to people, and is gentle with people much smaller than him. Good luck changing his mind on things, as Jack is very stubborn. He doesn't like being told what to do without a good reason to do it. Although his body has grown, his mind has not. He is silly at times, and is not always serious when he should be.

Skills:
Lifting nearly anything. Tree removal, as he can kick many of them over. Boxing, though not many people want to box with him.

Weaknesses:
His appetite will get the better of him for one. Although he doesn't have much of a temper, Jack usually takes a while to calm down once he is riled up. He doesn't like to hit women either, but if his life depended on it, he will. Softer than he would hit a man. Due to his size, he isn't the nimblest there is. He cannot use most technology because his fingers are too big.

Brief History:
Born and raised on the outskirts of Erubesco, Jack never wanted to be a knight. He grew up wanting to be an alchemist. Both of his parents were fairly tall and strong, but they supported Jack's decision. At age 16 he was helping his father move lumber when he was noticed by Erubesco officials for his strength. Soon his parents were notified that Erubesco had taken interest in their son, and that they would teach him to be an alchemist. An eager Jack met a cruel surprise. He was already a big boy, but they wanted him bigger. Stronger. They monitored his foods and played with his diet. They gave him injections and put him through many hours of training. His body began to grow larger, and the human body wasn't meant for it. Many nights he laid in pain as his bones struggled to hold the extra mass. They performed surgery on his heart, to pump enough blood for his body. His hands were too large to do any alchemy. He could no longer follow his dream. There was one thing that he did see as an improvement. There was an unexpected side effect, he could now climb walls.

What was now his gift, seemed like a curse to him. Things started to look brighter for him once the experiments were over, and he started to train to become a knight. At least he would become something in this world, besides a circus act. He would do something for Erubesco.

Other:
His appetite is about as big as he is. He only stops eating when there is no food around. Jack really likes gardening, and likes to grow vegetables as well as some perennial flowers.

So begins...

Jack Rousimoff's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jack Rousimoff
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  1. Oopsies. Looks like I made the same mistake, I thought I put it in the citadel, not the wasteland

    by thebagel264

0.00 INK

Jack woke up a little earlier than the other knights did. He just liked to get up early, as he felt it gave him more time in day. Well, at least more daylight. He had woken up and started to get his breakfast together. He heated up a burner on his stove with a large iron skillet. He put a slice of butter in and waited for it to warm up.

He filled a cup of water from his sink and went to the window of his apartment. He didn't have a large garden like he wanted to, but he did manage to get a small bed of plants for his window sill. He had a couple small scallion plants, as well as a tomato plant and some green beans. It wasn't much, but it made him happy. Slowly pouring the water onto the soil, Jack used his fingers over the top of the cup to stop the water from coming out too fast. He wanted to water them slowly, and not flood them.

By the time this was over, he went back to his pan. He got over half a dozen eggs for his omelet, and he was going to eat more for his breakfast. As he was scrambling the eggs in a bowl, he heard an broadcast.

It was about the recent attack on the city, and a moment of silence for the lives lost. Jack wasn't talking to anyone anyway, so he didn't need to do much. When the voice had returned, it mentioned there was going to be a ball. He put some cheese on his eggs and folded it into an omelet. As he ate, he started to wondered what he would wear to the ball. Moreover, where he would find dress clothes his size. It was already hard enough finding normal street clothes that fit, let alone something to wear a ball. Would anyone dance with him? It sounded nice if he found a pretty knight to dance with him. But would he find a girl that would want to dance with a man the size of a grizzly bear?

He decided to start looking early. Finishing his breakfast, Jack headed out the door of his apartment, and greeted everyone who walked by, although some of them had to do a double take.

The setting changes from the-wasteland to The Citadel

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Skip III Character Portrait: Edgar Gormly Character Portrait: Cadriel Character Portrait: Jack Rousimoff
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Jack still wondered about the ball, and he was starting to get second doubts. Was he even invited? They might want him somewhere else. He wasn't too sure, he had spent most of his recent time in the labs, so they could monitor a growth spurt. They wanted him ever bigger, and even stronger. Even if he was invited, what was the chance he would find clothes? He had some nice clothes from years before, from when he and his mom went somewhere nice. There is no hope of putting them on now.

The smell of food distracted him from that thought. "Clothes can wait." His sense of smell was keen for food, and Jack as still hungry. He didn't care if it wasn't up to some of the standards of his fellow Erubescians, he would still eat as much of it as he could.

As he walked, he saw two people chatting, although one seemed rather annoyed at the other. The second man didn't seemed phased by it though. Whoever it was he was trying to find, sure did sound like a sight to see. He was soon interrupted as his feet started to slide on the wet floor. "Holy smokes!" He slid forward on the floor trying not to fall, but it didn't take long before he felt himself starting to tip backwards. His feet were in the air. Desperate not to hit the ground, Jack reached for whatever he could. In his panic, he grabbed for the wall but instead punched through it, pulling parts of it down with him as he fell.

He hit the ground with a loud thud.

Jack laid there on the ground, with a fistfull of wall and a wet back. "Dammit.."

The setting changes from the-citadel to The Wasteland

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Skip III Character Portrait: Edgar Gormly Character Portrait: Cadriel Character Portrait: Jack Rousimoff
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  1. Wrong lication because Vit is a stupidface.

    by VitaminHeart
  2. Misspelled word 'location' because Vit is more of a stupidface.

    by VitaminHeart
  3. possible wrong location

    by VitaminHeart

0.00 INK

Cadriel, mop and bucket set to one side, crouched over by one of the few drinks vending machines in the main block thatd been spared Kora's wrath. Her work that in the morning had unearthed enough loose change that she could afford to dispense a paper cup of hot chocolate to warm up her hands. Poor circulation meant they were cold the majority of the time, though she could at least take a few minutes to try and coax some feeling back in...plus something to drink was welcome as she started work long before she'd get a chance to eat anything.

The little serf, tucked away in an alcove in hopes that no-one would see her and come give her something else to do, was just raising the cup to drink when the sudden crash and sound of splintering drywall slipped it free from her grasp.

The cup went all fo a few inches before it froze in mid-air, contents sloshing about wildly, but mostly intact, before its owner grasped it again and wearily pulled up the mop and bucket.

Something was undoubtedly broken.

While technically, realistically and practically this fact was absolutely nothing to do with her, the lightbulb incident not so long prior had gone to teach her that some of the higher ranking staff members regarded anything that was not functioning or maintaining full integrity as being her own responsibility... and the consequences ended up painful more often than not.

Of course the dynamic might have changed in some way since the same person who had used their powers on her for failing to fix a bathroom light had also been the person she'd given first aid to after some severe round of torture... but she didn't exactly trust the actions of a certain Commander. Or indeed any of the others who didn't owe her anything.

It was better not to give anyone an excuse to shoot her again.

Caddie hopped dow the flight of steps, bucket bobbing unevenly behind her, right up to the point where the turned a corner at the west edge of the block and came across the sight of some Knight, lying on the floor with a handful of the wall in one hand. She met this with a tired sigh. Hardly the first time...but also hardly quick to fix either. Actual maintenance would drag their feet on it for weeks so she'd probably end up fielding flak from irate acolytes keen to pull rank to make themselves feel better.

Perhaps out of unwillingness to face this new unwelcome complication, Caddie's gaze drifted.

On the other side of this figure stood the surly custodian who'd been trying to insist she was in the wrong place (something she was still not happy with) and finally there was.

"...S-Skip?"

The bucket, mop and cup dropped to the floor, landing quite impressively upright as the telekinetic young woman stood in the centre of them like the middle of a ritual circle, grey eyes wide.

"Skip. You're...still..well..."

Realizing abruptly that this was probably more of a spectacle than she had realized it to be, the experiment loosened her posture and turned her gaze away, turning her hands inside each other.

"I mean...I'm glad you're okay...all that stuff. I thought something might have happened."

The setting changes from the-wasteland to The Citadel

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Skip III Character Portrait: Edgar Gormly Character Portrait: Cadriel Character Portrait: Jack Rousimoff
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"Yeah. Like I said, Creepsy," said Skip. He was about to take the janitor's offer for an escort when the drywall crumbled in the stranger's hand. "More messes," he noted, pointing--cheerfully, not condescendingly. Picking up some drywall was certainly somewhere he could be useful. It wasn't much, but with his conditioned psyche, any opportunity to be used was a thrill after his time in isolation.

"I'm Skip the Third, by the way," he chattered as he tiptoed around puddles toward the accidental vandal and the crumble of wall bits.

It was at that moment that he heard his name, followed by the bang of Caddie's dropped bucket. Skip looked up and beamed like he had just won a lifetime supply of sherbet.

Skip didn't share Cadriel's hesitation. The project could count on one hand the number of people who willfully accepted physical contact of any kind, and he was going to take advantage of it. The rubber soles of the yellow chucks half-slipping and squeaking in the water from his haste, he bounded to the smaller experiment and swept her into an almost too-tight embrace that could easily take her feet off the floor, glowing shaking a tad from the strain of not giving everyone in the vicinity cancer.

"I'm fine, I'm good!" he said, releasing her. "See? Granted. Stuff did sort of happen." His smile grew rather weak. He glanced at Edgar and Jack, not certain how much of what he was about to say was classified. But certainly there was enough base gossip around that they couldn't find it out anyway, if they asked. "They--well--they put a microdetonator in my head. I was supposed to--sort of kamikaze that Wanderer group for what they did to the base. But Eris didn't pull the, um, proverbial trigger--which was surprising, since I thought she hated me--and I was afraid so I told the Wanderers, and they got it out before somebody else could do the job, I guess."

He dipped his head briefly, pressing his lips together. A shaming internal sting like the zap of a dog's shock collar still accompanied the thought of his failure. His cowardice.

He stuck on a smile again and looked up, his face lightening. "Anyway--the Helton curse--it's a real thing, apparently. Who knew? It nearly got me dead--so I guess it means I'm still loyal or something. So here I am. Transport picked me up a few days ago. I've been in the labs until today. Eris--she put in a request to get some of my clearance back today. And, um, I came upstairs--and I met Second Tallest Guy I've Ever Seen and Odin, with the stitches, there--" He paused to smile and wave at Edgar and Jack in turn, just to make sure they caught their christenings. "--then you dropped your bucket. And I think we're officially caught up from my end."

He quieted for a second, waiting for her story, but blurted out again at the last moment, "Oh and one of the Wanderers Lolly helped me catch a pet bird. His name is Dan and he doesn't sleep in my room because of what happened to the puppies and the other birds and the cat and the lizard, but he's downstairs if you want to see."

Pause. A thoughtful crease of the forehead.

"Okay, now we're officially caught up from my end. What did I miss?"

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Skip III Character Portrait: Edgar Gormly Character Portrait: Id Gormly Character Portrait: Cadriel Character Portrait: Jack Rousimoff
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#, as written by Zalgo
Ed nodded to Skip, acknowledging his introduction.

He didn't need Skip to point out the awful mess the large oaf of a man had made. This just meant more work, more opportunity to get his ear talked off when it came time to report back. Before he could resume his mopping however the bang of a bucket hitting the floor brought his eyes off the strange rambling fellow over to the woman he had come across earlier.

From the moment she saw Skip he could tell they knew each other well. How well was questionable as Skip ran in for a big hug. Either the guy was an extremely touchy-feely sort of person, the kind of person who makes his skin crawl just being near, or the two were close. Regardless of who they were or who was sleeping with it was none of his business and he planned to keep it that way. It was getting way too crowded in this hall as it was. Two was company, three was a crowd and all of the above was more company than he appreciated.


Just as he was about to move on down the hall, hoping to avoid notice so he could clean the rest of the mess he made in peace, he found his foot would not move as though it were glued to the floor. Attempting to move the other foot he saw that it too would not move.

"Aw. Leaving already?"

He cringed. Hearing her voice never meant anything good.


Look, I've already made myself look like enough of a fool out here. You don't need to help.

He struggled not to speak aloud, a learned habit from past experience. He knew nobody else could hear her voice except for him, at least that is what he's been led to believe, and answering questions nobody asked would only make him seem like some sort of lunatic. He didn't need help becoming even more of a social pariah.

"Looks like you've made yourself some friends. Aren't they just adorable?"

Ed's back stiffened instantly as he felt a smooth, delicate finger trace down the right side of his neck. Sauntering up to his side the ethereal beauty that was his sister rested her chin upon his shoulder, lightly leaning on him as she looked over the group around Ed with a devilish smirk. He could feel her touch and her weight upon him but he knew she wasn't there. It was all a hallucination, a trick of his mind brought upon him by her. Sweat ran down his brow as he tried his hardest to ignore her presence.

No. I don't know these people. They aren't adorable either.

"Tut tut. You're too negative. You need to loosen up. Lets hang out with your new buddies."


She was so casual she spoke as if she had not a care in the world. The truth was she didn't have one. She was effectively unaffected by almost all forms of danger. No one other than her brother even knew she existed and Ed couldn't do anything to her. The most he could do to bother her was to keep away from things she might take an interest in. Right now however he was powerless to challenge the verdict. He wasn't going anywhere no matter how badly he disliked it and he disliked this situation plenty.

So there he stood, bucket next to him and mop in his hand. Having said her word she decided to vanish, leaving Ed's perceived world while he listened to what Skip had to say. He couldn't help but give a sigh of relief now that he didn't need to pretend there wasn't someone hanging off his shoulder now that she let him be. He knew better than to think for a moment she wasn't listening to every thought and watching every emotion that passed through his mind but at the very least he could suffer without her added torment for the time being.


At the very least some of what Skip had to say was of some interest. The fact that the military had put a micro-detonator in his head wasn't shocking news but it was still worthy of note. He wondered just how they planned to kill people with a bomb that small. There was also mention of some person named Eris but he had no idea who that was so he didn't care.

The most interesting thing to Ed that Skip mentioned was something called The Helton Curse. He didn't know anything about a Helton but from what he could deduce from what he said he figured it killed people who were loyal to Erebesco or something along those lines. Now Ed didn't wish death upon Erubesco or anything quite so strong but he definitely knew that he was by no means loyal. He served because he had no choice. Something with a curse that killed off loyal members of Erubesco would come in handy if he ever wanted to be left alone.


Not that there wouldn't be other ways the military could get him. If there was one thing he knew it was that there was always someone with something for the job. That was the irritating part about his fellow gifted. Thanks to their super powers it was a pure matter of fact that no one is born equal. He was born to be lesser than others. As far as his fellow gifted were concerned he was dirt. He couldn't blame them, he thought so too. To him he was just some one-eyed piece of junk that barely even understood his own ability. He'd never known nor did he ever want to know the specifics regarding his supposed 'Gift'. Quite frankly he didn't even care. He had had enough of people and their powers. He just wanted to be alone.

Of course she wouldn't like that very much. Far too boring for the likes of Id.

He wasn't amused with his new nickname. A name such as Odin's was well wasted on some rotten janitorial slave. He never liked nicknames to begin with and he was starting to really dislike Skip as well. Perhaps this is your plan. He wondered, thinking words knowing that Id would definitely hear them. You knew this would really get under my skin, didn't you. He accused her in a scathing tone of thought. Nothing answered back save a long period of silence. She knew he knew that she could hear his thoughts but she didn't want him getting the idea that he could just talk to her whenever he liked. She found his impotent rage highly amusing but too much of anything was never palatable.


Quietly he stood there, hoping his quiet participation wasn't drawing too much attention. He looked about, hoping they weren't staring. Given his odd behavior moments ago he figured odds were likely that he wouldn't escape this conversation completely clear. His trust in his own luck had been lost a long time ago.

The setting changes from the-citadel to The Wasteland

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Skip III Character Portrait: Edgar Gormly Character Portrait: Cadriel Character Portrait: Jack Rousimoff
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »
  1. possible wrong location

    by thebagel264
  2. possible wrong location

    by thebagel264
  3. Sorry about taking so long to reply, I've had finals and inventory at work. Aaand I put it in the wrong location. Dang it.

    by thebagel264

0.00 INK

Jack laid there on the floor, wondering what the hell was going on. He heard some footsteps coming with a metal clanking. Great. Was he in trouble now? Was someone going to take him away? He rolled over to see who was coming, feeling water and debris move under him. He wasn't so scared when he saw who was coming. A bandaged girl who only came up to his waist. Though, she still had the potential to cause him great harm. He didn't know what her gift was. She could burn him, zap him, mess with his head, or do something he'd never even seen before.

Her attention went from him to one of the men who was there before. The happier one, not the grumpy one. Jack didn't know why that guy was so grump, but he didn't like it. He didn't like grumpy people. What was his problem? At least the second man, who went by the name of Skip? Skip was a verb to Jack, but apparently this man's name. And apparently he wasn't the first one either, there were two before him. "What happened to the other two?"

Skip was much more graceful than Jack on the wet floor. While Jack had crashed and fallen, taking the wall with him, Skip's shoes only squeaked. He started to pick himself up off the floor. Jack rolled on his side to push himself to sit, and stood up from there. As he did, everything quickly went from being above him, to far below him. The two came up to his chest, and the bandaged girl came a touch above his waist. "Why ain't you a cute little thing." He would pinch her cheeks, but it might break her jaw seeing the state she's in. He looked to the damage he had done, and was surprised at the wide gash he left in the wall.

The glowing man was blabbering on and it was a bit too much for Jack to follow. A micro detonator? Wanderers? Helton curse? Before long his speech was over, and he was waving to him. Jack waved back, still confused. The grumpy one had started to leave, but must of changed his mind because he was just standing there. It didn't make much sense to Jack. Was this guy going to explode at him for breaking the wall? Who knew, maybe that micro detonator would explode first.

The setting changes from the-wasteland to The Citadel

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Nicola Varren Character Portrait: Kora Norrevinter Character Portrait: Lulu Botrelle Character Portrait: Nathan Chandler Character Portrait: Lindsey Nightingale Character Portrait: Makorai Saika Character Portrait: Cadriel Character Portrait: Jack Rousimoff Character Portrait: Rick Ronin
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  1. Exciting! I can't wait! But I feel I must inform that Rick isn't actually in the Citadel. I talked to Echo before I made my first post and she thought it would be best if Rick showed up at a location that wasn't constantly guarded like the Citadel is.

    by darkshadowolf99
  2. For clarity, he is in a small unnamed town near the Citadel which is also mostly surrounded by the Ash Wasteland.

    by darkshadowolf99
  3. Well, Erubesco is a country. So if its nesr the Citadel, it's Erubescan. They do have roadways and the like between towns.

    by scoundrelboots
  4. I mean my post did say that the town was covered with Erubesco propaganda which is a clear sign that the town is aligned with Erubesco in some way shape or form. The point is that Rick isn't specially in the Citadel. I don't want people thinking that Rick was able to slip into one of the most heavily guarded Erubesco cities without even trying and without anyone noticing. That's all.

    by Anonymous
  5. Alright. This is clear (:

    by scoundrelboots
  6. by scoundrelboots
  7. I think it's important to clarify, as well, that the city wouldn't just be "aligned with" Erubesco. If it's in view of the Citadel, it's definitely within Erubescan borders.

    by scoundrelboots
  8. by scoundrelboots
  9. And also (sorry for all of the footnotes- I keep trying to press "enter" to make a paragraph, and not realizing the issue this causes). BUT the term "The CItadel" refers both to the Citadel base as well as the surrounding city. If Rick can see the Citadel castle, chances are the town he's in is a suburb of the city. Likely outside of the heavily guarded city proper, but definitely close enough that the mailing addresses could list "Citadel City."

    by scoundrelboots

0.00 INK

The Erubescan Command-on-call system was neither complex nor refined, but it got the job done: According to Citadel policy, any Knight Commander not otherwise engaged or officially off-duty had to have their earpiece tapped into the system, and a minimum of one Knight Commander had to be available to take such calls at any time, day or night. 

Commander Botrelle happened to be the one tasked with covering Thursday mornings. 



So, when her earpiece buzzed with the double beep signaling the start of an emergency broadcast, her surprise was muted to little more than a slight flinch. She passed in whatever condolence she had been offering Kora, halting conversation with one raised finger and a gesture toward the communication device. 


“Emergency,” she mouthed, fingers already flying across the surface of her tablet to pull up the video feeds before Nicola could so much as grant staffing permission. The former softness of the Commander’s face and voice were wiped away in an instant, replaced by calculating focus. Her lips pursed as she worked, gears turning in her mind as she took in the angles and details of the situation: 

Ronin was in the West District Library— a building with a twenty-five current occupants, three of whom were minors, seven of whom were library staff. One main entrance, two emergency exits, and no roof outlet. There was a cafe across the street, a modern art gallery to the building’s left, and several other smaller shops. 



The civilian population at risk was massive; at minimum, the library would need to be evacuated before anyone could proceed. 



Her tongue clicked against the roof of her mouth with impatient frustration for a moment, and then she pulled up the Citadel’s available troop listing. 

She began flicking names on the spreadsheet open to profiles, swiping those she wanted to use to the right in a column labeled with the date and an urgent tag. Two teleporters, one sniper by the name of Nathan Chandler, and a (somewhat hesitantly added) Serf Cadriel had already been compiled when Varren opened her clearances to the entire on-call Citadel force.

She began flicking more names to the right: Sniper Makorai Saika, tank Jack Rousimoff, and the dual-gifted Lindsey Nightingale.

“Thank you, sir,” she said to Varren, “Our team will be on the ground in fifteen minutes, max.”

Her nail hovered over one more name, and she glanced up at Kora. Her friend was battered, bruised, and potentially still bleeding under her bandages. 
Ready to be shipped to the front lines, if nobody came up for a better plan. 

“Get dressed in something decent,” she ordered, “Ronin’s in the city. If you can’t fight, you’re pardoned.” The name “Kora Norrevinter” flew into Lulu’s right column.



She tapped on the list, setting the selected troops into “Alert mode.” A series of beeps would sound on their ear intercoms.

This is Commander Botrelle,” she said, speaking into her radio as she shrugged off her suit jacket and strode toward Kora’s door. She set off down the hall at a jog. “If you are reading this message, you have been drafted as part of an immediate emergency response team. Terrorist Rick Ronin has been spotted in the West District. You are to rendezvous at the teleport bay in five minutes. Civilian attire. This is not optional.” 




Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Kora Norrevinter Character Portrait: Lulu Botrelle Character Portrait: Skip III Character Portrait: Edgar Gormly Character Portrait: Jack Rousimoff
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The force of Skip's embrace lifted the little experiment's feet clean off of the floor. She might have been rather uncomfortable by being seized in such a manner by most other people, but more than anything Caddie was overjoyed to see Skip, one of the only people she could unironically call her friend, back and safe. The smile on her face tugged at the stitches at the corner of her mouth, revealing some of her dreadful jagged teeth, but it wasn't much of a concern at the time.

Having dusted herself off a little and recovered her still-intact drink from the floor, she began listening to what had taken place.

With the experiment's revelation about a one certain knight commander, a number of things that had happened lately made far more sense. Though a number of other things made far less. Like the now troubling implication that Commander Botrelle had a soul and some sort of sense of decency. At least Caddie didn't need to feel quite so let down about helping her then. She'd always been feeling a little like her sense of empathy had rather ruined her opportunity for revenge. One time she had any measure of power over someone who'd made her life difficult, and she'd ended up offering first aid.

As far as what had happened... well Cadriel wished she could feel more surprised about the actions of the faction. Then again considering how she had been treated there weren't many things they could do to an experiment that would shock her. Even if it wasn't fair to do it to Skip, someone significantly less dissatisfied with things than she was. He wasn't a traitor, and if he had done something wrong it was more likely stemming from how they'd made him themselves. You couldn't create things a certain way and them blame them when it was flawed.

Still, he was back, and presumably no longer facing any kind of retribution. Things were looking up.
"Well I uh.. mopped a bunch of floors and occasionally got shouted at. Also I had to help out Commander Botrelle after Commander Avalon.... well she was hurt pretty bad and I don't know if she could've patched herself up so...I helped her get cleaned up. "

She decided to leave out the ''and then she attempted to kill me and then involved me in some kind of plot'' for the sake of expediency.

"And then this morning I was doing my usual stuff when one-eye-guy there told me I wasn't supposed to be there. But I was. Then I was going to take a break and get a drink....then I heard the wall being ripped open so..."

The large-sized knight had, by then, gotten to his feet and addressed the serf; with something she would regard as a bit of a disparaging comment. Even if she had been 'cute' she wasn't sure she liked being greeted like it...but looking like a marionette and a tub of medical waste had crashed into each other at high speed it wasn't hard to perceive such things as some kind of mockery. Sporting a lopsided frown Caddie was about to bring up the broken wall, and how fixing it wasn't part of her area of expertise, when her earpiece chirped suddenly into life. This was alarming as Cadriel could not remember the last time she'd been personally called up. Most of the time her interactions were rather a one on one basis...usually somebody shouting at her over a trivial matter. It had been an age since she'd gotten a call up.

The janitor fumbled with the device, stuffed into the bandages at the base of her neck, and clumsily pushed it into place. The large piece missing from her ear on that side made it sit a little awkwardly.

As Caddie listened, her grey eyes widened in alarm.

Emergency response team.
Civilian clothes.
Teleport bay.
Five minutes.

Trying to grip the intercom once again with her heavily bandaged hand, the little experiment spoke up in a small voice.
"Er...Commander...was I added to the list by accident? I....I'm not sure I was supposed to get this call..."



----


When Lulu suddenly broke off, Kora had been sat emptying about six sugar packets into her second cup of coffee, and morosely chewing on bacon and toast. She couldn't deny that she felt better for eating and drinking something sensible after days of not really taking care of herself. Still despite this, and despite her friend's assurances that she wasn't to blame, Kora could still feel the weight of accumulated shame rather heavily on her shoulders.

Regardless of the circumstances, people saw her as failure. An incompetent. She didn't want to be kept on in the Citadel out of pity. She was supposed to be an unstoppable warrior. The result of one hundred generations of breeding. It should not be this way. She had to prove it. Had to find some way to show people that she was no liability.

As if in answer to this silent request, Lulu spoke up.
All the knight needed to hear was 'Get dressed' and 'Ronin' and she was on her feet, narrowly avoiding covering half the room in coffee. As the commander departed to go and prepare, the redheaded erubescan tore through the remains of her clothes to look for some field gear that was both appropriate and moderately clean.

Civilian outfit, heat-resistor gloves in order to avoid her ability causing a great degree of collateral. No combat knife...seeing as she'd left Geri and Frecki behind. A long-sleeved hooded top top and a bit of adjusting hid most of the wounds and bandages from view. The gauze pad over her eye and cheekbone was still there... but at six and a half foot tall, with bright ginger hair and a distinct nordic accent it was not as if she was going to blend in either way.

From there, Kora was on her way to the teleport bay. That bastard again. Everything had started going wrong when she'd run across that ashrat brute. If this went well it was the perfect time for her to redeem herself in the eyes of the faction. If it didn't...well it would at least make her feel better to be against someone she had no complicated reservations about knocking out the teeth of.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Kora Norrevinter Character Portrait: Lulu Botrelle Character Portrait: Nathan Chandler Character Portrait: Makorai Saika Character Portrait: Cadriel Character Portrait: Jack Rousimoff
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Lulu arrived in the teleport bay with Kora in tow just minutes after making the call, and was pleased to find that at least a portion of her requested team had managed to report: Chandler was in, as well as the two teleporters, Schmidt and Quirk, and (obviously) Norrevinter had all gathered in a timely fashion.

“No mistake, Cadriel,” she said into her earpiece, not nothing to mask her irritation at the time-wasting question, “You should be here.”

She glanced around those gathered, and the severity of her expression possibly added a good five inches to her height. “Knights,” she addressed them, and then turned to a blank wall. A flick across the clear glass of her tablet cast her screen against it, displaying a video feed of Ronin on one side, and an aerial map on the other. “Your prompt response is as appreciated as well as it is necessary— we face a crisis on our hands. You all represent— and I do mean you all, including those of you who have somehow managed to not yet drag yourselves in to be briefed as of yet, — a first line of defense for the people of the West District.”



A few more gestures of her lacquered nails directed the satellite image to zoom in, and a building plan of the library was superimposed over its image on the map. “This is where Ronin is located, currently,” she explained, motioning toward a blue dot on the plan, “on the first floor. There are two floors, and a considerable civilian populace at risk. The building has three emergency exits, highlighted in red, here… And two fire alarm pull stations, one on each floor.

“Norrevinter, you’re on the north exit. Cadriel will take the west; Rousimoff is on the South. Quirk will drop you off at a corner block away from Ronin’s view, here. I will also be dropped at this point.”

Lulu paused for a moment, circling the point with a winding motion of her finger and checking to see that Quirk understood.

When Quirk gave a nod, she proceeded.

“Schmidt, you will deposit Chandler and Saika, wherever the hell the latter is, though presumably it is on his way on two opposing roofs, here, and here. They are to load immobilizing rounds— non lethal. There’s no room for error with this many civvies around. If Ronin makes it out the door, you shoot him. And you don’t stop shooting until you are out of ammunition. I hope you read that, Saika.” 



She flicked back to the satellite camera, offering a clearer view of just how many people were around. Families crossed the street from one corner to another, and children played in a park a few blocks off. The stakes were obvious, and the margin for error was non-existent.



“When everyone is in place, I will enter the building, locate Ronin and send signal to Norrevinter. Norrevinter, you will light a smoke bomb and roll it through the door to trigger a fire alarm. With any luck, the smell of smoke will be enough to convince everyone it isn’t a drill, and make sure that Ronin doesn’t suspect he’s been caught.



“Meanwhile, I will do my best to create a decoy for Ronin while people evacuate. I won’t engage him with civilians present, if it can be avoided. If I should fail in this, it’s the job of everyone at the exits to push him back in should he try to flee, and alert everyone on their com lines to engage. If he tries to smash out a window, Chandler and Saika— shoot him.



“With any luck, though, I will be able to hold him in the building. When it is empty, snipers are to maintain their posts while the rest of out team convenes on my location to provide backup while I engage him. You are all to take any action necessary, including lethal force, to preserve civilian life and ensure Ronin is contained, in that order.” 



With the briefing complete, Commander Botrelle pivoted on her heel to face her assembled unit. 

“Are you all clear on the plan?” she asked, the steel in her voice obviously not looking for any answer other than “yes.”

Almost as an after though, she touched her earpiece, “Everyone else, do you read?”

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Kora Norrevinter Character Portrait: Lulu Botrelle Character Portrait: Rick Ronan Character Portrait: Nathan Chandler Character Portrait: Lindsey Nightingale Character Portrait: Makorai Saika Character Portrait: Cadriel Character Portrait: Jack Rousimoff
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As Commander Botrelle's briefing rang out in the teleportation bay and through the communicators of those absent, Lindsey's lithe figure was dashing down a hall. A string of curses was rapidly coming out of her mouth as she ran quickly to the bay. As she practically flew, she managed to avoid hitting people carrying paperwork or hot coffee. "I shouldn't be late! I am such an idiot!!" She thought angrily to herself as she reached the room. She hurried inside and quickly got into line with her comrades. "Yes, ma'am." She answered quickly, hearing her question.

~

Nathan looked to the door as Lindsey entered hastily. He held back a sigh and simply looked to the ceiling for a moment before nodding to Botrelle. "Yes ma'am." He responded calmly. His attention was since again redirected as Makorai entered the room. He watched the fellow sniper with narrowed eyes, catching his drunken slur. Hiding his disdain, he prayed that this wouldn't be a problem for their mission.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Kora Norrevinter Character Portrait: Lulu Botrelle Character Portrait: Nathan Chandler Character Portrait: Makorai Saika Character Portrait: Cadriel Character Portrait: Jack Rousimoff
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Jack was standing there with the serfs when he heard a series of loud beeps in his ear. It startled him and jumped back, quickly covering his ears with his hands. This only made the sound louder as it echoed in his hands now. "Oh." Still jumpy, he realized it must of been from that ear piece he forgot about. He lowered his hands and laughed softly at his mistake. What could it be for? Was it for breaking the wall? Did they really know about it already? It wouldn't surprise Jack if someone higher up had seen the whole thing. He stood still and listened to what it could of been. This is Commander Botrelle, Uh oh. It very well could of been for breaking the wall. If you are reading this message, you have been drafted as part of an immediate emergency response team. Terrorist Rick Ronin has been spotted in the West District. You are to rendezvous at the teleport bay in five minutes. Civilian attire. This is not optional. It wasn't for the wall, but something much worse. A terrorist? Immediate emergency response team? Jack felt a sliver of pride. They wanted him? Someone wanted him to be with them? It also saddened him. It wasn't for the skills he favored, but for his more harmful ones. He would have to fight people, possibly kill. He didn't want to do that, but Erubesco, his home, was being attacked. Jack had a job to do, and civilians depending on him being there.

Civilian attire? Jack was good in that concern. Five minutes? That was more a problem. How would he get there quickly? And from where he was? Jack started to quickly walk to where he needed to be, but soon enough he heard another buzz over his ear piece about not being there still. Jack started to panic. Still startled by the initial beeps, and now being rushed, he became desperate. He didn't want to disappoint, or to let any civilian lives be in danger. He figured he had already broken one wall, so why not break another? Turning to the direction of the teleporter, he ran straight towards the wall, smashing into it with his shoulder. The same crashing sound heard not too earlier was now repeated, but louder than before. Instead of a small hole, it was a giant gash. After he broke through that wall, a second wall was soon in front of him. He punched his hand through and pulled part of it out, soon smashing through that wall as well. He kept running, pushing debris behind him as he kept running.

Bits and pieces of wood, drywall, and some split electrical wire were scattered on the ground. There he stood in front of the teleporter, ready to go. His hair ruffled, his clothes dusty. A trail of holes behind him. He stood with the others hoping not to be late. It never occurred to him that he might be doing more damage to Erubesco than he might prevent. "Everyone else, do you read?" Jack smiled. "Loud and clear."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Kora Norrevinter Character Portrait: Lulu Botrelle Character Portrait: Nathan Chandler Character Portrait: Lindsey Nightingale Character Portrait: Piper Kolert Character Portrait: Makorai Saika Character Portrait: Cadriel Character Portrait: Jack Rousimoff
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Nightingale and Cadriel were late, which was quite enough to set Commander Botrelle’s nerves on end: Lives were on the line, and this operation needed to run like a well-oiled machine. A hint of irritation flashed across her features as both came in a minute or two behind the start of her briefing, but she took no further action to call them out or draw attention. Minor mistakes were expected.

And then Makorai Goddamn Saika had the nerve to be late and drunk.

Her lips folded in on themselves and her irises locked onto the ceiling to avoid looking at him.

This was not a time to let her temper get the best of her.

“Knight Saika, what, might I ask, are you-“

Crash.

A chunk of wall was demolished directly where the Commander had been projecting the map, the teleport bay’s security alarm blared to life, and a puff of sealant foam sprayed out from the wall’s broken points to close up the gap, spraying both the opening and the backside of the man who had smashed it with a pale yellow snowfall that expanded on contact. Rubble and dust were cast up into a cloud, and nearly all of the teleport bay workers turned to stare in silence.

Now, some Supervising Officers would have been fuming at this development, but “fuming” was not something that Botrelle was known to do.

She was known to tap a sharp-heeled stiletto, or drum her nearly manicured nails, or perhaps draw her rosy lips into a disappointed purse.

But she did none of these.

Her posture was rigid, and she did not so much as turn to look at Rousimoff’s graceless form. The rise and fall of her chest ceased, and she was frozen so stock still that, were it not for an incredulous blink, there were about five seconds in which it looked possible that she had literally died from disappointment at the team that had gathered.

She touched her earpiece. “Knight Kollert, I need a soldering job on the north wall of the teleport bay. Gather a prompt reconstruction team. Please.” A quick flick of her finger across her tablet surface shut down the screaming alarm.

Lulu was going to kill them.

If a vein did not burst in her brain from trying to comprehend the level of unbridled incompetency in the room, she was going to fucking kill them.

She took a slow, deliberate breath— The kind so deep that it strained against the buttons of her button-up blouse as she held it before letting it go into a sigh.

“Twenty-two thousand, four hundred, and thirty-eight,” she said softly, her tone devoid of compassion or fury. There was an edge in its quietness, the kind that seemed to lower the ambient volume of the room with its demand to be heard.

“That is the number of civilian lives immediately at risk in the West District. That many men, women, and children are depending on nine upstanding military troops of the Kingdom they have pledged their allegiance to to keep them alive. They are counting on nine punctual, sober troops ,who are capable of following basic orders without causing major structural damage to sensitive, secure areas for no justifiable reason.”

Her pale green glare was fixed on the back wall, staring directly between the torsos of Nightingale and Chandler without actually looking at either of them.

“If you are not capable of fulfilling these requirements, or understanding the weight of these stakes, you will excuse yourself immediately.”She paused, letting the silence linger in the area for a moment, and then nodded to Quirk.

“Put our snipers in position,” she ordered, and with a nod Quirk moved first to Chandler and then to Saika. “Nightingale, you’re with Cadriel at the West entrance. Schmidt, move everyone. And stand by near the drop point for the withdrawal operation.”

Schmidt gave an apprehensive nod and began working around the circle, vanishing each member of the team off to the corner, ending with Commander Botrelle.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Kora Norrevinter Character Portrait: Lulu Botrelle Character Portrait: Nathan Chandler Character Portrait: Lindsey Nightingale Character Portrait: Makorai Saika Character Portrait: Cadriel Character Portrait: Jack Rousimoff
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Kora, for her part, simply stood with her arms folded, regarding this arrival rather skeptically, before looking over to Lulu in a manner that asked 'Is this really what you've chosen for a squad?'

"We've got a door you know." she remarked drily, somewhat pleased, considering her current situation, that she was looking the best out of all of them. She was on time, sober, and hadn't broken any Erubescan property...well not recently anyway. And nothing as extensive as breaking through walls.

And it wasn't by lack of capability.

Kora was only down by about a foot in height on the other knight, and she had long been quite famous (or infamous) for destructive capacity.

At least at this rate she was not in danger of any of the team making her look bad.

Her skepticism was only reinforced upon seeing the small figure of Serf Caddie stepped through the enormous gap in the wall, with a look of exasperated resignation on er face at the destruction.

Caddie had arrived in time to catch most of the Commander's lecture, and was almost certain she was not exactly in favour either.. but in all fairness it was hard to be prompt when you'd neither had any civilian clothes, nor had any real means to purchase them, for years. She didn't get out much. Well, she didn't get out at all. Generally speaking the height of Caddie's social life was talking with Saika whilst she tried to get to the drain cleaner he was lying on top of.

Her current outfit had been stolen rather hastily out of a cart of laundry, and some things left in a locker room by the teleport bay, so consisted of a slightly faded mauve sun dress, a hoodie at least two sizes too large for her tiny frame, and a pair of sneakers.
The lack of uniform didn't seem to diminish the strangeness of her appearance. If anything it worked completely the other way with more grubby bandages left on show.

But it was the best she could do in a hurry.
Plus it was not like she really cared that much for Lulu's approval.
She wasn't even sure why she was here.
Why send a janitor to do a Knight's job?
Still, if her work told her anything it was not to bother asking why.
Hopefully she could just get this over with and not end up vapourized.

The setting changes from the-citadel to The Wasteland

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Kora Norrevinter Character Portrait: Lulu Botrelle Character Portrait: Nathan Chandler Character Portrait: Makorai Saika Character Portrait: Cadriel Character Portrait: Jack Rousimoff
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Makorai Saika's belief in the divine was a convenient thing. Spirits inhabiting the bits and pieces of mortal life. It was a belief system void of restraint and greater moral struggles. It required little to no effort on his part, and also allowed him to humanize any inanimate object to the point on conversation when he was six cups over the legal limit. That being said, the convenient appearance of Jack, highlighting as what he was supposed to find atop the beanstalk, stole Commander Botrelle's attention like the marginally hotter guy at the bar.

Makorai nodded in Jack's direction. Thankful he was alive. Thankful he was a gifted being with such an immense drive to cause unneeded destruction that no one had time to check on the blood alcohol level coursing through his veins was Jack was on the move. 'Keep doing you man'. Makorai nodded encouragingly. Keep doing you man, keep doing you. This small bit of amusement now done, he took a moment to cast a sniper's eye to the motley crew assembled to safeguard ten thousand plus civilians in the face of this Wanderer epidemic. He expected Kora. If she hadn't been called officially he'd in the least expect her here arguing with the Knight Commander about going, all anger and swirls of red hair a second from becoming angry and sentient themselves. Cadriel was..a surprise, so much so that the genuine look of concern that inevitably formed on his face took a few beats to resettle into the RDF he wore so casually.

Next was Linsday, which sort of went without saying for him. Nathan however, bothered him for a multitude of reasons that he wasn't about to go over whilst he was in the middle of emptying his mind of all the background noise. Which, in itself wasn't a terribly impressive feat considering Saika usually didn't have much going on up there anyhow.

"Something heartwarming, something sarc-"

Teleportation took him and the, "astic" to his assigned building. It was athletically pleasing, and like most buildings in the city, took its cues from the old world artisans who's masonry had withstood the test of time long enough to be replicated in their modern era.

For Makorai, this meant he had cover, and a multitude of positions that left him largely invisible to the naked eye. Currently, he was sat behind a particularly skyward arch, attaching the three foot plus long barrel to a consol that switched between anti-personnel, and anti-material on the fly. Gravity stabilizers locked the mechanisms in place, and a series of scope glasses, akin to the pre war mechanisms used for judging ones eye strength, appeared in front of the scope.

Their application ranges from locating electromagnetic disturbances to thermal hear, even the absence of heat. A second scope, fitted with the same enhancements as the first was slid into its docking port.

It was a personal request, one that was useless on most sniper rigs, and probably more at home in a virtual game then a snatch and grab operation. Most was the key word here. Makorai wasn't 'most' snipers, and his ability to use both his right and left as master eyes, independent of the others, made this fantasy rig deadly in his hands.

More deadly then his companion sniper perhaps, has he'd strapped a series of lethal rounds to his inner thigh.

Dangerous thing to be shooting live rounds into a crowd, but in his mind? He was a bit separate from the rest.

Not cocky.

Confident.

"Arguably handsome reporting in, over."