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The Age of Gifted

The Age of Gifted

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The world has devolved into chaos, driven by two main superpowers. Small groups survive away from their control, while others work under them. Where do you stand?

4,022 readers have visited The Age of Gifted since Miss Echo created it.

VitaminHeart, ianna_334, MisterMagicMuffin, FranklyLorelle, and scoundrelboots are listed as curators, giving them final say over any conflict & the ability to clean up mistakes.

Introduction

NOTE TO ALL MEMBERS OF THE ROLEPLAY:
Please check all OOC boards for notes about the ball, the factions, and so on. Thank you!



This war hasn’t been the first involving Gifted- the superpowered, the blessed, the cursed- as a species, as active participants using their powers for bloodshed.

Throughout history, there have been traces of humans talented with special abilities, capable of feats unachievable by the average man or woman. Prophets, creatures of lore, those blessed with incredible luck, or who could read people completely, or those regarded as magicians...Of course, many were unaware of these abilities, and those who did were either regarded as gods, or kept their secrets under lock and key in fear of the consequences. It was only recently- several hundred years ago- that they began to appear more frequently, with more intense powers, more obviously “special”.

The Gifted.

As with anything unique, tensions rose, with humans declaring the Gifted dangerous. Their children could easily be harmed by one with super strength, and robberies could become even more life-threatening when performed by a pyrotechnic. War soon broke out, the recorded beginning dating to around a century ago. However, this story is not about then.

Humans, those who were unfortunate enough not to have such powers, not only lost; they were wiped off the face of the earth, with only tiny pockets remaining. In the chaos and anarchy that followed at the lack of any real stable civilization, two factions emerged.

Erubesco, the faction of culture, monarchy, grace, and science.

Liberty, the faction of order, efficiency, unity, and progress

Given the clash of their ideologies, lifestyles, and many other factors, it did not take long before both declared war on one another. They scrambled to collect land, stronger Gifted to fight under their command, and to gain an upper hand when both were equal in strength. Both groups even found themselves relying on tampering with genetic code, hoping to unlock something which would strengthen their own side. The war has currently been raging for eight years in total, in which many lives have been lost, and many atrocities committed.


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Much like the fairy tales which parents tell to their children at storytime, Erubesco is based around a concept of nobility, kings and queens, and an idealized view of “good” and “evil”. Towns cluster around grand castle bases, soldiers are dubbed as the “knights in shining armor” for the weak and defenseless, and many civilians go about their life with art and song heavily involved in their schedules. At face value, it appears like a beautiful utopia of prosperity and life.

However, the truth is far darker, as one might expect. Not only are the general issues that tend to come with a monarchy present- inequality, a very unlikely chance of ascending to another role, etc.- but civilian experimentation is very much the norm. While the entire process tends to be kept rather hushed, what occurs beneath the beautiful tiling of the castle floors is very real, and very active. While the glitz and glamor of movie stars and storybook towns may be appealing to many, it is a thin veil to what Erubesco truly stands for underneath it all. The ranks are as follows:

King

Viceroy/Lord/Lady

Grand Chancellor

Chancellor

Knight Commander

Alchemist

Knight/Acolyte

Infantry

Conscript

Serf

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The first impression which tends to fall upon the viewer of any Liberty city is a certain...blandness. Nigh-identical buildings and streets, all made up of a monochrome color. A majority of the population reside in their own apartments, and a lack of real vibrancy. However, Liberty’s morals are the main reason so many are drawn; preaching fair rights for all, scorning the pointless harm of her populace, and pushing the belief that, with enough hard work and care, even the weakest can grow into a potential Councillor.

Of course, while Liberty preaches patience towards its people, caring for them and providing for the needs of the loyal, they also push for extreme devotion. The rebellious are carefully groomed into fiercely loyal citizens, and the unity which is so focused upon can have the unfortunate side effect of damaging individuality. The ranking system is a fair deal more complicated when compared to that of Erubesco’s, but retains somewhat of a pattern. There are several sectors of Liberty, with each having seven ranks or less; ranging from the lowly Trainee, to the grand Councillor. Each sector is headed by a Councillor, which work with the Founder- and Leader- on near equal terms to make decisions for Liberty.

The sectors are as follows:

Espionage

Loyalty Affirmation

Interrogation

Economics

Defense

Genetics

Healing

Training

Education

Infrastructure

Agriculture

As there are are many different offshoots of these sectors, as well, and would take far too long to go through as is, it shall not be placed on this page. Instead, feel free to message the GMs if you want specifics on the rankings.



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Of course, what with the fact that quite a number of the Gifted population disagree with the beliefs of the current superpowers, many splinter groups have formed. None have been unable to reach the strength that the factions possess, but manage to survive in the harsh wastelands nonetheless. Ranging from tribes, to mercenaries, to rag-tag bundles, it is common for these small communities to often be at each other’s throats.

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While the term “wanderer” itself applies to any group or individual roaming the wastelands that is not a Mercenary or Faction goer, there are currently only three groups that are being followed at the moment. They are known as the Wanderers, the Striders, and the Bunker goers, with the Wanderers group being the largest in number, and the Striders being the smallest. They do not have any real reputation among the wastelands, as all are quite tiny when compared to others, and the wastes are quite expansive. Each have their own goals as of the moment, with a main one being shared among them; survival.

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While mercenaries tend to work under the factions, doing the dirty work that their bosses can’t spare the resources to do, that does not stop them from forming clusters of sorts to make jobs easier. There is only one current mercenary group that is being followed, however, although there are quite a few who work alone or work in other gatherings of sorts.

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Code: Select all
[center][img](Image URL goes here.)[/img] (An image isn't needed, but feel free to add one if you want one in. Otherwise, you can delete this bit.)

    [color=#000000][size=100][b]Full Name:[/b][/size][/color]

    [color=#000000][size=100][b]Nicknames/Aliases:[/b][/size][/color] 

    [color=#000000][size=100][b]Age:[/b][/size][/color]

    [color=#000000][size=100][b]Gender:[/b][/size][/color]

       [color=#000000][size=100][b]Gift:[/b][/size][/color]


[color=#000000][size=100][b]Loyalty: (if Erubescian or Liberty, please add their position if you can)[/b][/size][/color]


    [color=#000000][size=100][b] Description:[/b][/size][/color] (What do they look like? Even if you've got a picture, a bit of writing would be nice.)

    [color=#000000][size=100][b]Personality:[/b][/size][/color] (A brief outline of their demeanour.)

   
    [color=#000000][size=100][b]Skills:[/b][/size][/color]

    [color=#000000][size=100][b]Weaknesses:[/b][/size][/color] (Achilles' Heels that can be exploited by enemies.)

 
    [color=#000000][size=100][b]Brief History:[/b][/size][/color] (Any notable events in their background that might have shaped them. If you don't want to reveal too much, that's fine.)




    [color=#000000][size=100][b]Other:[/b][/size][/color] [/center] (Anything else you think everyone needs to know about your character.)


Events of the Roleplay so far... http://www.neopets.com/~aggiebluemint


Toggle Rules

I know that this section is usually quite boring, but it's a necessary evil. I'll try my best to make this somewhat bearable, but I'll probably fail miserably~
*clears throat*
  • Basic rules apply here, too. Be legible, no PPing, no veering wildly off canon, etc.
  • Please ask me if you have an idea for the plot/factions/story-line. I really dislike it when people think they can get away with doing something extremely ridiculous.
  • Be polite. Inside the RP, your characters can be at each other's throats, but outside we're all responsible, mature people(I hope), who should act that way.
    No stealing other people's characters.
  • Please try to be unique with your Gifted's powers.
  • If you plan on making a character with a specific Gift(ex; Elemental, Mind Manipulation, etc), ask the person who made it for permission and specifics, so you do not break the established pattern.
  • No fantasy. Anything fantasy ish (ex; dragons, something that seems demonic) must be explained with Gifts. No straight out magic exists.
  • Certain character ranks (ex; anything above Agent in Liberty, anything above Knight in Erubesco) must be approved by a GM.
  • Powerful characters must also be approved by a GM.
  • Humans have been practically wiped out for a /while/, meaning that having human parents is a no-go, unless I give permission. Same with human characters; and, in connection to that, humans do not belong in the factions.
  • Please don't have your character show up automatically a part of one of the current wanderer groups. This RP isn't new, but has been moved, which means being part of a preexisting group is a no-go. Having them already be a merc, faction goer, or general random wanderer is alright, however.
  • These factions have intricate cultures and laws, and so it may be wise to start as a character who may be easily led around, to put yourself in position to learn. Good examples are a low-level trainee, a prisoner, an experiment, or a tribal Ashlander who has managed to survive outside of faction reach. If you want to begin with a more culturally informed character, be prepared to ask the GMs a lot of questions.

The Story So Far... Write a Post » as written by 16 authors

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Skip III Character Portrait: Edgar Gormly Character Portrait: Cadriel Character Portrait: Jack Rousimoff
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  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

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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 Helton

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Dawn Memoli Character Portrait: Clockwork Pelacour Character Portrait: Kayla Chandler Character Portrait: Toby Schippers Character Portrait: Spire Schippers Character Portrait: Hel Character Portrait: Mina Aldridge
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Toby’s hesitance was quickly picked up by the little radio in Dawn’s head, although by this point, she had grown aware enough not to comment on it. His logic made sense- the walls around Helton, while broken down, could still be reinforced, and they had learned the layout of the city well enough to use in a fight- but she still found herself in agreement with the idea of leaving their current home behind. A large part of it was that, in spite of the Helton curse, it had proved to be easily invadable by Erubesco- a faction that was only a short distance away. And given the frequency that they had been attacked...Unconsciously, Dawn’s hand slipped into her pocket, fingers curling around nothing.

It was easy to believe that they would never really give up their pursuit, but it felt better to make it just a bit harder to be found. Better to add more hassle in being moving targets than sitting ducks, waiting for the next thing to happen. It may have been the part of her that was brought up in the ash that clung stubbornly to that belief, in truth- the survivalist that still made her sort her backpack’s inventory each night, or strain to catch any odd noise or presence when out raiding- but that did not change Dawn’s view in the slightest. Her instincts had grown unnecessary with the safety of the group to the point of dulling, but they were still something she had grown to trust with the years.

Shaking off her little reverie, Dawn followed into the hall, previously thoughtful expression shifting into a frown as a certain serial killer and his young companion met them at the doorway. There was reason for them to dislike Dutch at the level they did, but that didn’t make it much better in her eyes. Dutch could be a bit...much at times, but at the end of the day he wasn’t a monster. Besides, stroking this kind of fire would only cause more trouble in the long run. Gnawing on her cheek, Dawn gave a slight nod in response to Mina’s request, and proceeded to send out a brief mental broadcast to those awake, explaining the situation, before coming back into focus and following down the hall.

“It doesn’t seem like one,” she said, casting a glance over her shoulder at Clockwork (whose face was just as impassive as ever) for a moment, before returning her eyes back to the hall. “The person- he’s…” Dawn’s brows pulled together, “he figured out that there’s more of us. Trying to avoid a fight for now.” Her face relaxed, eyes losing the odd glazed look as she returned to her own mind, before she continued. “I do think we should be prepared for the worst, though. Just because he’s feeling peaceful doesn’t mean that something will happen.”

Dawn fought off the urge to cringe at Kayla’s comment- and the hurt that went through Mina in response- teeth gritting with the effort. While friendly, the air within the Wanderers was still very much tense. Strained, almost. It made her uneasy. Rubbing her shoulder, she followed into the morning light of the Wasteland, silently training her focus upon the bubble of activity that awaited them. Hers wasn’t a weapon that she could draw out and threaten it, but it was a weapon nonetheless.

“Like Mina said. We shouldn’t go into things like this without any backup plans. Just in case.”

The setting changes from Helton to The Wasteland

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Rick Ronan
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*(Location is near the Erubesco Citadel)*

Nightmares mixed with the pain associated with starvation kept waking Rick throughout the night. Now the sun illuminated the nearby town but Rick was in no hurry to get up out of his pile of ash in the nearby Wasteland. He wasn’t sure he had the strength to pull himself out of his “bed”.

‘What is the point of trying? If I succeed, then it would mean hours of mindless wandering…well…I should actually head toward that town,’ he thought to himself. ‘If it really is a town.’ Lately Rick couldn’t trust his perception of reality. While he lay there, face full of ash, two opposite images flashed before him. One was an image of the town, the other a gruesome swamp.

Rick closed his eyes to erase both images.

‘What is real? All of my memories seemed so real but now…’ he continued to think as he remembered the feel of plastic in the center of his chest. The item embedded in his chest all this time was some hunk of blue plastic instead of a powerful sapphire. That was just the beginning of his confusion. Each memory he had cracked, making room for a new memory that contradicted the other one.

The most shocking aspect was the complete loss of his powers. ‘Did I even have powers to begin with?’

He opened his eyes, the image of the swamp was gone leaving just the town in its wake. Making it likely that this image was the true one. Rick has gone stretches of time without rations many times before, but now he’d gone too long without food and probably wouldn’t last another day.

‘That town would have food and water, but it is so much easier to just lay here and wait for death…so…much…easier…’ he closed his eyes and waited.

“Ah…” Rick sighed opening his eyes once again. “Damn it!” he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t just lay there and die, he had to try to survive. Just like always. His past was shattered but his will to survive wasn’t. He positioned his left hand under his chest and kept his right hand by his face. With his remaining strength he pushed the uneven ground failing to lift himself up even slightly.
This failure only strengthened his resolved to live.

‘I’m not gravity’s bitch,’ he thought to himself. He tried again pushing with more strength than he realized he still had in the tank. This time his upper body lifted up off of the ground, ash clinging to his face and clothes. Rick brought his knees up under him and pushed himself up to a standing position. He’d done it.

Gravity seemed heavier than normal, no doubt due to his weakened state, and he had to fight just to keep standing. Rick brushed the ashes off him as best he could without using too much effort. Leaving him still fairly dirty but in doing so he noted something odd. His muscle tone was still intact. Instead of the skeleton like figure of a man whose body was eating itself, Rick retained the muscular physique of a weight lifter with a high protein diet. His black sleeveless shirt didn’t diminish how much his chest stuck out while his arms were just as strong looking as he remembered. His black shorts hid the strength of his lower body fairly well, but he could still see the muscle definition in his calves. His dirty black and blue sneakers completely hid his feet, but how strong could a foot look anyway?

Rick touched his short dirty blond hair at the front feeling it sticking up in that area. It wasn’t sticking up in a bed head kind of way but in a stylized way that could be done with static electricity. With the muscle definition and his hair sticking up at the front, Rick found a small glimmer of hope that he still had his powers somewhere locked inside him somewhere waiting to be unlocked.

In the mean time, he’d have to rely on only his perseverance to make it to the town. So he slowed drudged through the Wasteland.
An hour later he was there and he immediately regretted coming. Erubesco propaganda was everywhere. Though it could just be a town that supports Erubesco, but with Rick’s luck there is probably at least one Erubesco base nearby. Rick felt vulnerable just standing on the outskirts of the town since he was one of the founding members of the Wanderers. Not to mention the discomfort of not having any powers to protect himself with. After all, just the other day a random group of thugs beat him up, took his supplies, and killed his friend Belle. If he couldn’t handle random thugs then surely he couldn’t handle highly trained Erubesco soldiers. Erubesco wouldn’t care that he’d left the Wanderers and they definitely would still care about all of the death and destruction he caused them in the past. Erubesco wasn’t likely to take pity on him for being powerless, they’d probably capitalize on it instead.

Rick looked back at the Wasteland, the image of which flickered with the image of a massive grave yard with plenty of open graves. Turning back to the town, Rick’s vision flickered the image of Candy Land with giant pieces of meat cart-wheeling down the streets. Rick stood there watching the illusion play out the spectacle.

“Eh…close enough,” He said walking further into the town.

His speed was still sloth like from his weakening knees but he walked in a fortunate direction. His vision removed all traces of the false Candy Land and dancing meat products to reveal a convenient store of sorts. Rick went inside passing the front counter. The young lady behind it was quiet friendly, “Welcome back –oh I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else. But it’s always great to meet new people. I’m Shelby, what’s your name?” Shelby asked in a true morning person fashion.

Rick looked at her but didn’t stop walking, he didn’t mind being friendly but the need to survive dictated his actions. He was getting food NOW. Plus his name could be infamous around here so it was best not to use it. Lying always made Rick feel uncomfortable and he was bad it anyway so saying nothing was his default setting.

The lady was clearly upset by Rick’s rudeness but she didn’t say anything, she just watched him head over to the food aisle. Rick found himself with enough food to fill his belly and still have some left over for the trip out of the town. He thought back to the thugs and how they stole everything from him and left him to die. Rick settled for one meat stick, an apple, and a twenty ounce bottle of water.

Before anyone could say anything, Rick wolfed down the food and chugged the entirety of the water bottle. That small amount of food was enough to restore his strength to a decent level, thought it would be smart not to do anything too strenuous until he got more food. Eating such a small amount just made his stomach ache more in attempts to persuade him to keep eating. He resisted the urge to dive face first into the shelves of food and devour everything. Then he resisted that urge again while he threw his trash away in a nearby waste bin and found his way to a bin of maps. He opened one up and learned his surroundings as best he could. He could no longer afford to mindlessly travel to unknown destinations, he was lucky this time but next time he might just starve to death.

“Excuse me sir! You have to pay for those.” Shelby insisted from her position behind the counter.

‘Time to go,’ he thought to himself closing up the map. Rick walked back towards the front door, map in hand. Shelby insisted again but Rick didn’t stop. “I don’t have any money…sorry,” he did say.

“Hey you stop!” a man declared trying to stop Rick. Rick gave him a shove and the man fell backwards into a display of cookies.
Rick left the store in a hurry secretly proud that there was still enough strength in his body to jostle people out of his way, even if it still wasn’t super strength. Rick jogged down the street fast enough to get away but still retain as much of his renewed energy as possible.

Every foot fall angered Rick, the further he got from the convenient store the more he hated himself, and by the time he felt like he’d gotten away the more he was convinced that he needed to go back. His left foot hit the ground taking him off the sidewalk away from the main street.

Tucked away in an alley covered in shadows, he lingered quietly. Rick looked up at the morning sky but saw no light. Looking back down plunged him deeper into darkness. Looking around was pretty useless for he could hardly see anything.
Through the shroud he found ordinary things. There was a compact mirror with missing pieces of glass from its multiple cracks. Rick could see the banana peel on the ground, the army doll stripped of its uniform, and the overflowing dumpster.

“No. It’s not true. I’m still me,” Rick tried to assure himself.

‘Am I?’ he questioned himself with a flare up of rage. ‘This isn’t the first time that I’ve lost my powers but this is the first time that I’ve ran away to hide from danger,’ he reminded himself.

“This time…it feels…different,” Rick responded to himself out loud. Speaking his thoughts out loud in this manner was helpful for him. Doing this was the best way he could clarify his thoughts and if there was ever a time when he needed clarity, it was now.

‘It shouldn’t matter if it’s different. I am supposed to be a warrior with or without my powers. And yet here I am hiding from average town’s folk, being fearful of Erubesco, and letting those punks kill Belle. I let them kill Belle.’

Rick was quiet after that thought. His shoulders drooped, his heart sank, and his eyes cast down. “I know…” he admitted.
His stomach growled. Eating enough to survive another day isn’t satisfying at all. He didn’t care; he couldn’t care not while the thought of Belle was so fresh in his mind.

“I know…” he said plainly. The weight of that moment grew heavier on his psyche. “I know…” sadness crept into his tone. “I know…” he said, his body weakening. Rick could see that beautiful woman vividly die before his eyes.

A spark. It felt familiar yet altogether foreign.

His eye brows sank downward at the tips, his gaze sharpened. “I know, I know, I know, I know, I knowIknowIknowIknowIknowIknow I KNOW!” he exploded with passion. “I’ll get those punks! Right after I get my powers back! I will have them again I will! But in the mean time…I’m going to need to survive, I’m going to need to train my skills, I’m going to need a reliable food source, and I’m going to need to know more about electricity.”

The alleyway seemed to brighten in Rick’s eyes. He opened the map that was still tightly gripped in his hand. After looking at it for only a short period of time Rick confirmed his earlier prediction. Not far from this town is the Erubesco Citadel and everything else was Wasteland. The rest of the map provided little more useful information but it was enough to get him going on his mission.

“I’ll head in the opposite direction of the Citadel but I’m going to have to make do with living in this town until I’m ready to move on.” Rick decided his plan was good enough to start so he closed the map and folded it several times to make it pocket sized. With the map put away in his left pocket Rick stepped toward the exit of the alleyway with his right foot.

Before he could go, his blue eyes with the yellow tint around the pupils noticed the stripped army doll again. Lying next to it seemed to be a miniature plastic army boot. After looking at the doll for a second an urge welled up and he found himself walking over to the doll. Rick reached down and placed the boot on the doll’s right foot then sat it down against the wall of the alley. Stepping with his right foot, Rick walked away from the alley with new resolve.

The setting changes from The Wasteland to The Citadel

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Drake Coleman Character Portrait: Eugene Melberg
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After a good bit of fussing (and and even great bit of false smiling) over showing the ginger-haired Knight how to use the base navigation interface, Mel managed to send the woman on her way in (what he presumed to be) the correct direction. 



Having done his good deed for the day, the post-nightshift worker plodded back toward his apartment with his roommate in tow. He swung the door open with a heavy arm, trotted down a hallway that his eyes were a bit too strained to see in proper focus, and plopped down to sit on the bed with his boots still on. The uncomfortable not-sweaty-but-still-weirdly-clammy warmth that came with being awoken and forced out of bed in the midst of a heavy dream seeped through his body, and settled into his gut with an inauthentic impression of illness that he knew would not let him return to sleep.


Mel ran a hand over his shoulder, pausing to knead a stiff muscle and roll an ache out of his arm. He sighed with a weight akin to an air-mattress with a hole being jumped on, and proceeded to shove himself back to his feet with a smile. “Well, Coleman,” he said, “if we’re already up, may as well get on with it.”

He turned toward the mirror by the kitchenette and did his best to make sense of his sleep hair, and then back to his roommate. “I’m going down to the cafeteria to see what they’ve got, and then I’m off until tonight. If you want to tag along. Or not. It’s uh-“ he trailed off, losing track of his own tired rambling and stopping to inhale through his nose and clear his head. “I’m getting coffee and food, if you’re down.”

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Drake Coleman Character Portrait: Eugene Melberg
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#, as written by Hyro
Drake found the situation with the red-haired Knight slightly amusing, what with her being lost in her own community and all. In light of his roommate's disdain over the whole ordeal, however, the boy did his best to conceal his amusement, despite how humorous it was to him. He didn't say much as Mel offered assistance to the directionally challenged Knight, simply opting to observe(and make note of) the latter's guidance in directing her around the Citadel.

After following Mel back to their room, he couldn't help but notice his company's haze and exhaustion. Mel seemed ready to get going despite this, but Drake wasn't buying into the forced demeanor.

"Are you sure you don't want to get some more sleep in before jumping into your day?" the boy noted, eyeing the other doubtfully. Drake wasn't even sure if Mel would make it to the cafeteria without tripping over himself or forgetting where he was half-way there.

"I mean, I'll come with you if you insist on going," he conceded, eyes looking Mel up and down, "But only because someone's gotta keep you from spilling boiling-hot coffee on yourself."

Drake's last comment was a small attempt to tease Mel. Or, perhaps, a minuscule insult; an attempt for the boy to remain cold and distanced from his surroundings, as this was his usual defense mechanism.

Even he wasn't entirely sure what his intentions were yet.

The setting changes from The Citadel to Liberty Base Alpha A

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Character Portrait: Samon Cauldier Character Portrait: Colt Character Portrait: Selim Sharp
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Colt let his arms rest behind his back at ease as Selim Sharp spoke, one hand wrapped around his wrist. His jaw remained tight, eyes giving away little but mild annoyance as he looked down at the interruption.



Selim Sharp was not his supervisor. 



Selim Sharp was, as far as Colt’s briefings had stated, not even in his department.



“I am not Infrastructure Trainer, Mr. Selim Sharp,” he replied, the name rolling off his tongue with slow, deliberate articulation placed on each of its many “s” sounds, “And my student is not answering to people who are not in Training.” 

He left out a quip about the question not being for him— No need to waste words and time on inefficient communication.

When the man turned to leave, Colt lifted his wrist and entered something on his trainer’s log.



Three minute interruption by [1] Selim Sharp. Resumed at 16:23:25.



“Aim is correct, but is going bad from wrist rotation,” he stated to his student as the door slid shut, moving to stand behind Samon without missing a beat from where he left off. He reached down and lifted the student’s shooting arm, and Colt’s hand nearly obstructed Samon’s entire hand and wrist from view.

“Is good to rest on your left arm while learning, but you are bracing the right. Has no give.” He rubbed his thumb over the joint in the trainee’s wrist where the tension was held, and then turned his wrist in a slight rotation. “Rolling with the force. Will recoil straight back, so expecting to come toward you.” 

To demonstrate, Colt pulled Samon’s hand back slowly in the direction that the shot would propel him, and then put the boy’s finger over the trigger.

“Now. Hold straight, wrist loose, and shooting again.”

The setting changes from Liberty Base Alpha A to The Citadel

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Character Portrait: Drake Coleman Character Portrait: Eugene Melberg
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Mel waved off the concern as he made for the door and held it open for the younger man to follow. “I’m up now that I’m up. And I’ll grab iced coffee, maybe. I guess.”

And then, with delayed reaction- “Oh. The hot coffee bit…” He laughed half-heartedly, nodding toward Drake, “That was a joke. Ha.” 


Moreover, he was looking for company that made him feel slightly less awkward. Even after several days of living with the new refugee, the idea that this boy had been held under the control of the very same people who had butchered half of his old unit made Mel uncomfortable. 



To make the understatement of the decade.

“But uh. Cafeteria may have waffles or something. So.”

Mel started off down the hall with Drake in tow, trying to make tired smalltalk by prodding at the first subject that wandered to mind. "Did you guys have like... Real food? Or... Do you remember, at all? If you ate waffles and stuff?"

The setting changes from The Citadel to The Wasteland

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Character Portrait: Seth Ghysels Character Portrait: Roderic Montana
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"To recall our previous lesson, the true bane of a teleporter is predictability." "For those that lack perception, the unknown is a blight of terror. For those who exist in the space that watches the outside world, a power such as that is an opening." He pointed skyward. "Above" The finger joined the other three, while his thumb pushed backwards. "Behind." "Left, Or right." "Very few expect their opponent to dissipate, then draw themselves together in the same place."

"This is a fake, and if used correctly, will make your movements unpredictable. Such action will result in possible anxiety of your enemy, giving you the edge, beyond this however." He gestured to the numerous hitting backs scattered around the room. "If you apply this feeling of anxiety to a wide group, flitting in and out of their perception, what was the affliction of one could become hysteria to a group. Bleeding the beast."

The hitting bags carried various gashes consistent with wounds received from a hatchet. Short, deep, and viciously applied. "Even with a minute wound, the slow throb of what you've left them with will remind them you are always there."

"Now, in a larger scale battle it is important to pick a point, removed from the conflict, to observe and aid our allies when possible. This can be done by guiding them away from enemy efforts, or putting your enemies in the way of these efforts."

"Remember that traps will be lain out, with the expectation you will do these things, by skilled adversaries. Any patterns in your movement will be noted and exploited."

The older males hair was tied back into a short ponytail, save a few thick strands that fell free on the left side of his face. Behind him was a clothing rack, and on it were several articles of his trademark clothing, complete with a wide brimmed hat, which was perched safely at the top. His gym wear was simple, a pair of shorts that stopped mid thigh, and a loose undervest, that left the sides of his chest, and rib-cage exposed.

"First, land a grievous blow on ten bags, then engage me before my blade is thrown to the target, if you fail to do so, you must teleport yourself, and the target before my blade makes contact. If you succeed, you are allowed to use your power thrice during the tenure of our fight."

"Ready yourself Seth."

Montana hand wrapped around the hilt of his thrown knife, snugly sheathed in it's thigh strap.

"Start!"

The setting changes from The Wasteland to The Citadel

Setting

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Character Portrait: Soren Pelacour Character Portrait: Drake Coleman Character Portrait: Eugene Melberg
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#, as written by Hyro
Of all the questions Mel could have asked, his query over food seemed insignificant, but Drake would humor him. The boy's eyebrows furrowed as he squinted and tried to concentrate. He had spent all night trying to regain his memories to no avail, but maybe, just maybe...

A subtle headache started to form.

"I really can't remember much at all," he replied, frustrated, "It's all a blur-"

The boy paused as a memory flashed across his mind briefly. A flicker. There wasn't much context, just faint smells of sweat syrup wafting through the air and a warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest. There was a man holding a tray of waffles... Or were they pancakes? It was hard to tell, but the memory certainly wasn't negative. In fact, it brought joy to the boy and light to his eyes.
Like memories of home.

The man... That's...
It was Soren. He had baked a delicious breakfast for the Wanderers as he often did. There were others indulging in the home-cooked meal, their faces blurred but very clearly happy.

The memory had come quickly, and just as it had come, then it was gone.

Drake stood there for a moment before realizing he had stopped. He was swift to apologize and catch up. "Sorry. Er... We did. Have real food, I mean. Waffles, pancakes, the whole lot."

This was his first memory since he'd woken up... It wasn't much, but it was a start.
Finally, he was making progress.

The setting changes from The Citadel to Liberty Base Alpha A

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Character Portrait: Beretta
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It was doubtful that many people in Base Alpha-A had seen a baby deer, and even more doubtful that any had seen Erubescan-style baked goods. 

Nonetheless, there was no more accurate way to describe what Trainee Beretta looked like in heels and a ruffled skirt than to ask one to to imagine a fawn forced to walk while stuffed into a triple-layered wedding cake.

The trainee had been sporting the attire- a plain black pair of what Canvas had called “stilettos” and a white, heavy skirt with some kind of stiff mesh underneath it- for just under three days. Her ankles trembled when she moved, and her stride jerked to one side or another every few steps as her balance faltered in the stilt-like footwear.



And sleeping with ice packs on her ankles had done very little to ease the near consistent ache of it.



Beretta did her best not to look as awkward as she felt as she clicked down hall 82-F toward yet another training meeting with Supervisor Canvas, but she still managed to attract more than one sideways glance. She wasn't sure whether to be thankful or concerned that she had not started wearing the "corsets" yet, but rather tried to avoid thinking about that upcoming hell altogether. Learning to walk in such clothing was a necessary evil of her mission, and she had to keep focused on that.



She stopped outside the now familiar Meeting Room 388, scanned her wristband on the panel, and slipped inside as the door slid open.It closed behind her with such a quick motion that in nearly caught the hem of her skirt, obstructing the room from the view of any prying eyes.

The training space was more dimly lit than many others on base— an effort to simulate the kind of lighting that they would be working with in Erubesco. The floor was made up of a articifical wood, rather than concrete, that shone under the goldfish lights. There were a few tables of varied heights with white cloths draped over them, and distinct settings on each.

On a long, freestanding counter toward the middle of the room, 
several bottles had been lined up, containing liquids in strange colors that Beretta had never seen before.



The trainee cast a furtive glance around for her Supervisor or other teammates, but found herself to be the first one there. She checked the time on her wristband- Just a few moments early. The shoes had slowed her far less than anticipated.

Unable to hold her own curiosity, she trotted (as well as the shoes allowed) to the counter, and leaned in to read the curling scripts on their labels. “Pe-NOT noy-ray, Napa Valley,” she read aloud, brow furrowing at the strange words before continuing down the line, “Shimmering Mos- Moscato?” She stared intently at this bottle, noting that there was some form of settled metallic liquid at its bottom. 



Beretta continued down the line like this, careful to view without touching, taking in the colors and glitz on each bottle with something between intrigue and disgust: 

They were clearly some form of imported Erubescan finery, but her interest to know exactly what they were for would have to wait for the Supervisor to be sated. 


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Samon Cauldier Character Portrait: Colt Character Portrait: Selim Sharp
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Samon began to study Selim as he talked, his stance, the words he used, the tone of voice. Something was off about him, but Samon couldn't quite put it into words. Why were all of his alarm bells ringing at the presence of this man?

He was a bit relieved when the man left, allowing for Samon to get back to his training with Colt. His aura threw him and Samon didn't know why. It was the agonizing feeling of what he wanted to say being on the tip of his tongue. He knew what was up with Selim Sharp and yet he didn't. It was a frustrating feeling.

He heard Colt's training advice on shooting, and he listened, pushing all of that in the back of his mind. He could worry about that another time. Right now, Colt was giving some instruction. He felt the weight of the gun shift around in his hand as Colt rolled his wrist backwards to demonstrate what he wanted. The wrist still throbbed from when he'd shot before, but it was turning into a dull kind of pain.

He breathed slowly, in and out, focusing on the nothingness in front of him, concentrating on where he wanted the next shot to go. He kept the right wrist relaxed this time as per Colt's instruction. He looked through where he imagined the gun's sight would be. Colt would point out that he was looking a couple centimeters to the right. But his aim was still on target. He hadn't moved it from it's original position.

He inhaled, held his breath, and pulled the trigger.

The massive bang echoes through his ears once more, but the wrist didn't hurt nearly as bad from recoil as it did with the first shot. He knew the shot would land where Colt intended it to go. It just felt right.

The setting changes from Liberty Base Alpha A to The Wasteland

Setting

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Character Portrait: Soren Pelacour Character Portrait: Clockwork Pelacour Character Portrait: Spire Schippers Character Portrait: Hel
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“Alright then.” Soren wasn’t particularly surprised by Spire’s response- in all honesty, given the backgrounds of many of the Wanderers, he had expected for a fair portion of them to simply eat when they pleased instead of waiting for a proper mealtime. There were no luncheons out in the ash, nor were there any picnics or fine dining. To eat was survival, and starvation did not wait for anyone. It was a habit that he was sure would have clung for much longer, and a habit that he would have never held against them- but to his pleasant surprise, that was not the case.

Although exceptions weren’t exactly rare, either.

Still, he couldn’t help but tack on, “There should be some leftovers in the fridge, however, so feel free to help yourself when you’d like.” Merciless killer Spire might be, he was still a part of the group, and Soren’s well-meaning nature extended to all those within it. That said, it still did not do much to snuff the flare-up of hesitance when he picked up on Spire’s intentions this fine spring morning.

It was Clockwork who answered instead, the earlier light in her eyes having faded completely. “We haven’t seen Montana at all today, I’m afraid,” she said tonelessly. “Given the message he left on the doors, there is a chance you might find him in the training hall. As for Percival.” She gave an abrupt pause, glancing up at Soren before continuing. “The last we saw him, he had gone out into the city. Wanted to keep an eye out himself, he said.”

“If you do see him,” Soren added, “could you please tell him that breakfast is almost ready? He can be forgetful at times.”

The setting changes from The Wasteland to The Citadel

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Character Portrait: Nathan Chandler Character Portrait: Piper Kolert
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Piper nodded as he spoke, her strawberry blond springs of hair bouncing, a little surprised by the timbre of the information Nathan provided. Usually when she asked "what's your story" she got the answers to where people were from and a list of hobbies. Since he hadn't asked her a return question, and since she didn't feel up to volunteering her own "story," in detail, she simply replied, "Sounds like the classic tale. Mine's similar. Though I think I got Knighted because I'm good at paperwork."

Her curiosity was peaked about these memory gaps, so she added, "Was it a combat related accident? Or--sorry. That was rude." She was asked so frequently about her chair, and her disposition was such that it had never bothered her, so it hardly occurred to her that asking might be considered impolite until too late.

The setting changes from The Citadel to Helton

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Seraphina Iclosis Character Portrait: Talin Melardos Character Portrait: Jake Vale Character Portrait: Soren Pelacour Character Portrait: Clockwork Pelacour Character Portrait: Gale Eden Character Portrait: Kayla Chandler Character Portrait: Toby Schippers Character Portrait: Spire Schippers Character Portrait: Mina Aldridge
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Toby corroborated Dawn's information about the stranger with a nod. "I d--don't feel anything especially hostile about him. I mean--not deliberately malicious, I guess. But he seems a little guarded, with the others over there. Which makes sense, considering he probably didn't expect to find, you know, sentries at the Helton gates. You know. And, um, I don't know...secretive?" He cleared his throat.

Mina's caution wasn't misguided. Even if he hadn't shown up with the immediate intention to harm, that didn't mean he wouldn't hurt anybody. Desperate Wastelanders could be just as dangerous as predatory ones. One could just as easily be shot by a nervous, guarded scavenger as by...well, somebody like he and Spire used to be. (Toby may have been overly optimistic with that "used to.")

He slowed his pace as they neared the place where Jake was speaking to Sera, Talin, and Gale.

"Um, hi everyone," he said carefully, a bit surprised by the youthful appearance of the newcomer. Something about the emotional signature had struck him as mature. Then again, so did Clockwork's. "What's going on here?"

---

Spire smiled a perfectly cheerful smile, despite a blunt throb of dissatisfaction at the fact of the missing Pierrot. "I'll be sure to let him know," he said, and though he sounded sincere enough, the promise was deleted from his mind so quickly it was as though it hadn't even found purchase in the first place. Unimportant trifles were always erased to make room for more important things. Like wringing Oren for more information.

Spire would feel more comfortable leaving Hel with Soren and Clockwork than he would have with any of the other Wanderers, but with the issue of the ashrat knocking at their metaphorical door, he decided he'd better not, yet.

The setting changes from Helton to The Wasteland

Setting

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Character Portrait: Rick Ronan
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  1. I'll be happy to interact with any character, so feel free to bring anyone in.

    by darkshadowolf99
  2. There are libraries in Erubesco, actually. Books are too classy for them to give up so easily. :)

    by Miss Echo
  3. I didn't mean all of Erubesco just that town, but I'll edit it.

    by darkshadowolf99

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Out of the alley back on the main street, Rick didn’t see anyone who was obviously looking for him. No one was pursuing him for his very recent crime.

‘I guess I should consider myself lucky,’ he thought to himself. Remembering the map he stole, Rick walked eastward which was the opposite direction of where the Citadel is located. In the long run it wouldn’t make him much safer but it seemed to be safest direction to go, based on the little information he had. His map only had street names, major landmarks, and the rough location where the Wastelands were.

Food, information, and training were the three objectives for him to locate. Rick’s stomach rumbled, “Shut up,” Rick said punching himself in the gut. He winced for a moment not expecting the punch to hurt as much as it did.

He wandered on.

‘Apparently most of my pain tolerance came from my super strength, without it…I’ll have to build it back up the hard way.’ As he traveled through the business district of the town, Rick hit himself in the stomach with his fists. He didn’t hit himself real hard just with a consistent amount of force. It didn’t take long for a dull heated pain to develop in his stomach from the strikes. His stomach growled angrily in protest but Rick continued.

‘It’ll be worth it,’ he thought to himself. From time to time he switched up his target to his ribs, chest, and even his face. The people walking by stared at the strange man whom was beating himself. Rick wanted to be annoyed by the negative attention but he couldn’t blame them. ‘I must look pretty stupid,’ he admitted to himself.

Time passed and still Rick only found office buildings. No food stores, no martial arts dojo, and no library.

He stopped, ‘I need a new strategy…if I had my super strength I could leap high into the sky and take a look around or if I had my lightning powers then I could lightning propel myself around the town until I found what I was looking for…but then I wouldn’t to stay in this town in first place…’

Rick looked around; many of the office buildings were tall. One of the buildings had brick ledges underneath each window. Rick stepped up on the first ledge the length and width of which was just large enough for Rick’s frame. Though his heels did hang off the side a bit. The strength of the ledge seemed to be enough to hold his weight. Rick reached up above his head to grab the ledge of the window a level above him. He pushed off with his feet and pulled up with his arms.

Rick rested his chest on the ledge, he rested for a second before he pushed his body up high enough to get a foot up onto the ledge. He brought his second foot up as he pushed and pulled himself up. Rick held onto the frame of the window to steady himself as he got up. He repeated this process until he was halfway up the building, his limbs where starting to shake and his energy was nearly depleted.

The window he was in front of opened up suddenly, “What are you doing up here? Are you crazy?” a man asked from behind the open glass. The startled Rick didn’t know what to say. “Seriously man you’re going to get yourself killed. Come inside and walk down the steps to the ground floor,” the man insisted.

“I need to get to the roof, I’ll get there one way or another,” Rick responded with confidence.

“One way or another huh? If it’s all the same to you, why don’t you come inside and use the stairs to get to the roof?” the man asked.

Rick was taken aback by the suggestion, ‘It couldn’t be that easy,’ he thought to himself, his response to the man was in the same vein. “I wouldn’t be allowed to.”

“Did you try asking?”

“…”

“So instead of trying the simplest way, because you were afraid to ask, you just decided to try the dumbest most dangerous way instead?”

“…”

“Come on inside,” the man used his telepathy to pull Rick inside the building placing him gently feet first on the ground. He closed the window, locked it, and then gestured outward with his hand towards the stairs. “This way crazy man,” he led the way with Rick following not far behind. Rick stayed quiet deep in thought while they walked up the numerous steps.

The man escorted Rick to the top level to a large meeting room. “This isn’t the roof,” Rick said plainly.

“Well, you were right, we actually don’t allow people on the roof for no reason but since you are so determined I will offer you the next best thing.” The man unlocked the meeting room door letting them both inside. It was a standard meeting room full of chairs, a long table, and office supplies. The room also had many large windows on each side of the room allowing Rick to see out in all directions. “If you’re trying to kill yourself don’t bother, I’ll stop you with my telepathy,” the man informed Rick.

Rick went to the closest window immediately taking in the sights of the town. “It’s nothing like that…I’m just looking…” No matter which window he looked through Rick only saw more office buildings.

“Glad to hear it…find what you were looking for?” the man asked.

Rick stepped away from the window he was currently at, “No,” he said heading for the door. “Thanks for bringing me here anyway.”

“What were you looking for?”

“Nothing.”

“Seriously? You think that’s going to fly with me? I caught you scaling up the side of my work building; you must’ve been looking for something important. Come on crazy man, maybe I can help you find it.”

“…” Rick was looking at the man like he had three heads which were glowing with different colors.

“What? You’re afraid to ask again? Do you just prefer to do things the hard way or-”

“I’m just used to it,” Rick interrupted. “I…I’m looking for a library.” Rick’s stomach growled loudly. “And…a place where I can get some free food,” Rick added sheepishly.

The man pulled a smart phone out of his dress pants pocket quickly jumping onto the internet.

**** “Libraries are obsolete you should check out our Information Stations, they have top of the line technology and work like a high tech internet café,” the man informed Rick. Rick stared blankly at the man.

“Or…you could use a library…the closest one here is by the out skirts of town not far from the Citadel.”

“No.” Rick’s almost fearful reaction, or as fearful as Rick gets at least, earned a surprised look from the business man. Thinking quickly, “It’s too far. I need something closer.”

“Sorry there isn’t anything closer. Unless, you checkout an Information Station… it looks like there is one… at Jeffway Road and Crandwalk Avenue. You’re not going to find anything closer, do you want to know where that is?” *****

Rick opened his map holding it out to the man, “Can you show me on the map?” Rick asked.

“Look at that, you can ask for help. I’m proud of you.” He said taking the map before pulling out a clicky topped pen from his tailored suit pocket. The man, who clicked the top of the pen to open it, was in his forties looking successful and well-to-do. Even his pen was fancy looking.

“Okay, we are here,” he said showing Rick as he spoke. The man placed a black mark on the map indicating where they were now. “Over here is Jeffway Road and this is where it intersects with Crandwalk Avenue which is where the Information Station is, you’ll be able to get the same knowledge that you would from an old fashioned library but way more convenient.”

The man made another black mark on the map to indicate the Information Station. “As for free food you’re out of luck. Every food place requires payment. But if you’re truly desperate for food there might be one option you could try.” The man made another mark on the map that was much farther away from the other two marks. “If you find yourself down this way look up my old neighbors, they are a lonely old couple who lost all of their kids in the war. They might be willing to take you in for a few days in exchange for company. You’ll probably have to endure an earful of long tedious stories with no punch lines though. And if you ever need anything you can come by here and I’ll help you out however I can.”

Rick took back his map from the man, “Why did you help me and would you keep helping me?” he asked.

“Why not?” he answered.

The map was placed back inside Rick’s pocket. “Thank you.” Rick said simply as he left the room.

“Just ask for Andrew if you decide to come back!” the man called out.

Rick made his way down the steps and out the building. His destination was the Information Station but his mind was on Andrew and what just happened.

Rick’s view of the world and himself was starting to change.

Arriving at the Information Station, Rick found himself at a complete loss at what to do. There were about a dozen visors attached to big black metal boxes and twice as many laptops attached to a desk. He made his way further inside cringing slightly from his hunger pains. Rick walked past the few people who were situated by a desk and a machine. Rick looked around trying to find the books.

‘That Andrew guy said I could find books here. Or wait. No, he said that I could get information here just like a library,’ he reminded himself. ‘So could that mean there aren’t any books in this place?’ looking around verified his theory to be correct. There were no books in the room at all. ‘How am I supposed to learn about electricity, lightning, and martial arts without any books?’

What Rick didn’t know is that the laptops had access to the internet and the visors attached to the metal boxes were actually the latest in virtual reality learning software and both were more than capable of providing the information Rick was seeking.

Rick sat down in front of a random laptop and clutched his stomach while his stomach growled. Part of him wondered if he was in the wrong place.

Setting

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Character Portrait: Nicola Varren Character Portrait: Lulu Botrelle Character Portrait: Rick Ronin
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Knight Saffir Fisher hadn't had the easiest few weeks.

Going from a happy enough, if rather dull stint at some tiny outpost where the most they saw most days was a feral dog tripping the motion detectors to having half her squad killed while she bled to death half crushed under a fallen locker.

After all that had taken place, the Citadel City seemed very strangely peaceful by comparison.

It had been her first time venturing outside since...the incident. At least partially because it had taken a good week or so for her to feel steady on her feet after getting her shredded spinal chord hastily put together by a healer. She could mostly feel all of her toes, and whilst the weakness she still felt was enough to excuse her from active duty for a while, there was only so long she could use it as an excuse to stay in the Citadel and avoid seeing people. Well. People aside from Mel.

Besides, it wasn't enjoyable or healthy to be stuck sitting around with too much time on her hands.
She would usually go and bother her squadmate under the guise of having something constructive to ask him, but Mel was busy with his strange new roommate, some morose-looking guy billeted there. Saff didn't feel any particular desire to join in on Mel's attempt to introduce the kid to the facilities of the Citadel, so going out to buy some much needed groceries seemed a good second option.

The young Knight, having donned some civilian clothes, strolled along one of the streets with a plastic bag full of groceries in each hand, and her brightly coloured headphones pulled up over her dyed hair. Military issue earpiece hung loose around her neck. It was protocol that she kept it on hand in case of an emergency callup...but it didn't say she had to keep it on...especially when her powers would let her pick up even minute activity on the thing without even lifting the phones. Sound manip was far from the most prestigious of abilities, but it did come with a few handy perks.

She was toying with the idea of picking up some coffee for her, Mel and his new roomie, on the basis that whatever stuff the Citadel catering bought in tasted like baby puke, and debating on if she should make sure emo guy didn't have some kind of dairy allergy, when something cross her path that made both bags of groceries collapse into the paving slabs at her feet. A pot of peach flavoured yoghurt rolled along the walkway, in the direction that Saffir had just seen the figure of Rick Ronin, the wanted terrorist, stroll into some shop. Like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Swallowing down the bile that rose in her throat from panic, the knightess veered hurriedly off her path, dashing into an alley off to one side from the building. Once there the sound of electronic music swiftly cut out as she wrenched down her headphones and fumbled with the communicator, ending up holding it to her ear with a shaky hand and snapping to the emergency channel.

"C-calling Emergency Channel. Knight Saffir Fisher c-calling in from city. Just logged my location on the system. Just s-sighted terrorist inside city. Rick Ronin. I repeat. He is inside the city at this location. How should I proceed?"

The setting changes from The Wasteland to Helton

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Dawn Memoli Character Portrait: Seraphina Iclosis Character Portrait: Talin Melardos Character Portrait: Jake Vale Character Portrait: Gale Eden Character Portrait: Kayla Chandler Character Portrait: Toby Schippers Character Portrait: Mina Aldridge
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Talin, in the meantime, had sent his visual of the apparent boy, as well as his instinctive understanding of the meanings of the visions to their most efficient communications system – the mind manipulators, who could transmit the information to everyone else. Sera, in the meantime, smiled fondly towards Gale – no need to reveal the experiments dark nature, when he was pretending so well – before scanning over the newcomer. “Just passing through then?” she asked, as the most reasonable assumption. “Or are you scavenging through the city?” The second would be especially inconvenient, after all, since they didn’t know how much of a “finders keepers” mentality this wanderer would have.

“Hello, To-“ she turned then paused, realising there was a group there, ”everyone.” She amended. “Just someone else who’s wandered into Helton. We were out for a jog and came to check it out.” She explained, gesturing to herself and Talin in turn. “We had a bad scare with a faction not too long ago, so we’re on alert” she told the new one, almost apologetically. “Seems like nowhere is safe these days.” She finished off with a slight shrug.

The setting changes from Helton to The Citadel

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Character Portrait: Nicola Varren Character Portrait: Lulu Botrelle Character Portrait: Rick Ronin
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In events of a call to the emergency channel, the call was broadcast to both the highest and lowest commanding ranks. Transmission to any of the ranks in between were to be determined by the recipients.

Nicola Varren was one of those. Up with the sun, he’d already been working for a few hours, currently arranging schedules before anything urgent or necessary came up. From his behaviour when Fisher called in, one would have thought he’d been waiting for this very news, eyes closing for a moment while the man gave a resigned sigh, before calling up surveillance. From there, he was able to view the tapes and determine that yes, in fact, that was Rick Ronin.

Eyes narrowing, Nicola began to deal with the situation. First, a flag on all the guards around the perimeter, because Ronin had walked in and someone had missed it. Next, a message to surveillance for someone to go through the tapes and track Ronin’s path through their City. Third, alerts to Grand Chancellors and Chancellors, to be prepared to be called to deal with the high level threat posed.

Finally, as more of a precaution than anything.
“Good morning, Commander Botrelle.” His voice was a bit harder than he would normally use when addressing this specific commander, but then again, this was a serious call. “I assume you got the alert, Ronin is within striking distance of the Citadel. I’m leaving first response in your capable hands, while I organize a strike team if necessary. Your clearance for personnel request,” he worked as he spoke, and his words became true just before he said them, “has been brought to the highest level. You have access to any gifts currently stationed in the area. Glory to Erubesco.”

That taken care of, the Viceroy deigned to take a look at the Knight who had made the call, then swore softly as he recognized the name from a rather harrowing report.
“Miss Fisher.” He patched himself through to her earpiece, speaking in a soft soothing voice. “Thank you for your alert, and Knights are on their way to deal with the threat. Your orders are not to engage. With the first group, someone will be along to escort you to back to the Citadel. I repeat, do not engage.” Nicola sent through a request for a teleporter to pop over and bring the young lady to medical bay. The notes on her file were clear, and Saffir Fisher was not yet cleared to fight.

Nicola was paying especial attention to things like that after the mess with Botrelle that he had returned home to.

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

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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: Drake Coleman Character Portrait: Eugene Melberg
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The corner of Mel’s mouth curled up on one side, and his expression scrunched into something between bemusement and disbelief. His thick brows furrowed so tightly they nearly became one. 



“Huh,” he replied, shoving his hands down into his pockets, taking them out, and then rolling one shoulder as if he could not find a comfortable way for his arms to rest. In fact, Mel’s entire body had started to crawl with a far more profound discomfort than he had expected at Drake’s response. 



“I guess uh- I mean…”



His stomach turned at the thought of the Schipper’s brothers washing Saffir’s blood from their dirty hands so that they could pick up waffles and shove them into their mouths. 



“It’s kinda just weird, you know? I- I should have assumed that they eat decent food out there. No reason not to… It isn’t like they’ve got anything to…” 



He shook his head, hoping the image would shake away with it. What had he been expecting? That the terrorists would eat rocks and sand, and drink blood? 



Mel swallowed the rising lump in his throat and pulled at the collar of his uniform before speaking again. “It’s just weird to think of them as being people, who eat normal food and do normal things sometimes,” he replied at last, “The whole 'the worst monsters are men' thing. With uh— Well, I mean. You got dragged through all of the stuff they’ve done. So it must be harder for you to… Well..” 


He stopped short, noticing that his fingernails had started to dig into the flesh of his palms. “Sorry. For bringing it up.”



The door to the mess hall was fast approaching, and Mel swung open the door to hold it for Drake with a strained, apologetic smile. “I uh— It smells like the coffee may not be crap today?”

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: Drake Coleman Character Portrait: Eugene Melberg
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#, as written by Hyro
"It's fine, really. It's not like I remember much, so..." Drake trailed off.

It was pretty hard not to hear the mood change in Mel's voice, hard not to see the expression drop on his face. And even without all the obvious clues, his aura would have given his discomfort away to Drake regardless.

"You know, for something that bothers you so much, you'd think you would have told me why by now."

A pause. An observation. A selfless thought, flashing through the boy's mind. Perhaps he would vocalize it. Try to be comforting, at least a little bit.

"It must hard. Seeing me all the time. Since I was, well... One of them," he hesitated, "Brainwashed or not... But I know these Wanderers or Terrorists or whoever they are bother you. I'm not sure what they did or anything... I'm just... Well... Sorry, I guess? I know you're sort of stuck with me at the moment and that can't be easy..."

This mushy stuff sounded way worse out loud. He kind of regretted voicing it now.

"Ugh," a swift pivot of subject, "Yeah. Hopefully the coffee's decent."

The setting changes from The Citadel to The Wasteland

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: [NPC] Bartender Character Portrait: Eugene Melberg Character Portrait: Rick Ronin
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"Y-yes sir." Saff stammered out, her back pressed against the wall of the building.

Do not engage.

She wasn't supposed to go in and deal with this criminal.

But she couldn't go running away. Even if it didn't interfere with extraction, anyone running about and panicking might let on that erubescan command knew about the threat. The terrorist might start killing people. She had to try and keep it together until reinforcement arrived.

Blood pounded in Saffir's ears.

How could this be happening AGAIN? She'd only gone out to got some food. Now she was staring death in the face for a second time in as many weeks. Her hands were shaking and some of the litter at her feet started to pulse with infrasound...until with difficulty the knight reigned it in.

Once again fidgetting about with the communicator she started another call in, this time on ordinary channels.
"Mel? Mel are you there? It's Saff... I'm in west district and and..." Saff's voice trembled as she took a deep breath. SHe continued, whispering, even though she could find no-one remotely in earshot.
"There's a t-terrorist in the building here. The man who set the whole base on fire. I just c-called it in...I'm waiting for Citadel response..I...I.. " S
he broke off. She had no idea what to say about it. She wasn't sure how any of this was about to pan out. Frankly, she was terrified. Even if she wasn't potentially in direct firing line as military personnel, the collateral damage Ronin caused was enough to mean her life was at risk. She half expected the building to cave in on itself or be engulfed in flames at any moment. The Knight was filled with an acute awareness that this could be her last call to...anybody, and felt a little ashamed that she had nothing more profound to say that a halting retelling and stammering.

Movies had undoubtedly lied about the concept that there was any honour in death.

The setting changes from The Wasteland to Liberty Base Alpha A

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Beretta Character Portrait: Mimic
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"Pinot noir. It's a sort of grape, and is also referred to wines derived from the grape."

A slender, gloved hand slid silently from the handle of the door as someone came to stand in the training room, dwarfed by the rather more physically imposing trainee by a good few inches of height and more than a little muscle mass. That was by no means the most obvious feature agent Mimic had however. Much like Beretta's wobble-inducing heels, necessity had made it so Agent Mimic wore something that was not exactly standard dress code. Where a face should have been visible there was a blank, featureless mask covering the front half of the woman's head, composed of some smooth, white material, with round eye panels of fine black mesh. The result was not a glimpse of the wearer's own features.

For many it might be a little unsettling. The story behind it was maybe a little moreso, however that was very much between Mimic and the supervisors. As far as anyone else was concerned, she was a low-ranking espionage agent, her identity was classified and the reasons for such a thing were classified too...and it being Liberty that was enough for more or less anybody. If life in the faction taught you nothing else, it taught you when it was better for your own safety to mind your own business and not tumble down any rabbitholes that might come out in a re-education centre.

Mimic was Mimic, and Mimic was good at her job. That was all anybody needed to know.
And she was very good at her job. A flawless actress who'd gathered a lot of information on the enemy's activity in her active time. It was only natural that the assignment would involve her somewhere along the line, and the interviews with a detained Erubescan were helping her build up a whole new character for her repertoire. It would help things along to have a completely legitimate society member, with existing record and history. Would lend more credence to the others. If the training so far was any indication...the others would require that.

After momentary hesitation to decide if it was permitted, the masked participant stepped over to the bottles that were lined up, took hold of the one Beretta had just recently been reading, and gave it a firm shake, causing liquid and shimmery waves of some glittery substance to tumble around inside.

Mimic sighed.
"Glittering drink. Erubesco do make such useless things."

The setting changes from Liberty Base Alpha A to The Wasteland

Setting

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Character Portrait: Nathan Chandler Character Portrait: Piper Kolert
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Nathan blinked at the apology and was quick to hold up a hand in reassurance. "Oh, no, it's fine. I've had people ask me that before." He replied, running a hand through his hair awkwardly. "I was injured out in the field. Explosion, I believe. Woke up in the medical bay with no memory of anything before that. Now things just pop up occasionally with my migraines." He looked down at his food quietly. Despite having been asked before, it was still strange talking about it. It made his head hurt to think about the accident.

"Anyway, I forgot to ask you about your story. You told me it was sort of similar, right?" He asked. Before he could get an answer, though, Commander Botrelle's call came in through his earpiece. Immediately he was sitting up straight and listening in. His eyes narrowed at the mention of Ronin, and he stood up as the message ended. He looked at Piper.

"Sorry, but I need to go. I've just been drafted." He explained. "Talk later?" He looked at her apologetically in question before heading out of the dining hall. He made a quick trip to his room to put on civilian clothes before heading towards the teleportation bay.

View All »Arcs

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The Citadel

The Citadel by ianna_334

The pinnacle of Erubesco glory, don't let the medieval inspiration distract you from the technological marvels it hides

Liberty Base Alpha A

Liberty Base Alpha A by ianna_334

Welcome to Liberty Base Alpha A. We hope you have a productive stay. This is a place for work, not play. Cheer for Liberty, hip hip hooray.

Helton

Helton by ianna_334

A nice safe place to rest... If you don't mind death, decay, and skeletons.

The Wasteland

The Wasteland by Miss Echo

An apocalyptic landscape, most of it is covered by ash, earning the nickname "The Ashland"

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Character Portrait: Rosette Eschelia Crimson
7 sightings Rosette Eschelia Crimson played by ElusiveAuthor
"The name is Ruby, thank you, not Rosette."

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View All » Add Character » 81 Characters to follow in this universe

Character Portrait: Dawn Memoli
Character Portrait: Seraphina Iclosis
Character Portrait: Larke Sterling
Character Portrait: Talin Melardos
Character Portrait: Jake Vale
Character Portrait: Samon Cauldier
Character Portrait: Nicola Varren
Character Portrait: Soren Pelacour
Character Portrait: Kora Norrevinter
Character Portrait: Lulu Botrelle
Character Portrait: Clockwork Pelacour
Character Portrait: Robert Greenleaf
Character Portrait: Sierra Iclosis
Character Portrait: Oren Kovalenko
Character Portrait: Allen Memoli
Character Portrait: Azrael Gable
Character Portrait: Heather Laxton
Character Portrait: Cecelia Brocktree

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Character Portrait: Daevas
Daevas

"I got you to look after me and you got me to look after you and that's why."

Character Portrait: Agent Mayday
Agent Mayday

Liberty and Death

Character Portrait: Olive
Olive

A little girl who loves her "parents".

Character Portrait: Ava Thean
Ava Thean

Councilor of Liberty Training

Character Portrait: Tessa Avalon
Tessa Avalon

Innocence mixed with Malice

Character Portrait: Derrick Avalon
Derrick Avalon

Cold Sunglass Wearing Bastard

Character Portrait: Rick Ronin
Rick Ronin

"If your belief is worth dying for, it's worth killing for."

Character Portrait: James Grimori
James Grimori

"Damien, why are you such a handful?"

Trending

Character Portrait: Roderic Montana
Roderic Montana

Relentless.

Character Portrait: Mina Aldridge
Mina Aldridge

"If it don't give you a heart attack on the spot, it ain't sweet enough."

Character Portrait: Damien Moore
Damien Moore

"You don't have to be lonely tonight~"

Character Portrait: Roxy Adams
Roxy Adams

Feathery and fun-sized

Character Portrait: Larke Sterling
Larke Sterling

Drug addict/Genuinely nice guy

Character Portrait: Mr. Tanner
Mr. Tanner

Education is key. Everyone can be taught.

Character Portrait: Makorai Saika
Makorai Saika

Bet you a kiss I can hit that.

Character Portrait: Seraphina Iclosis
Seraphina Iclosis

"I can still see, you know."

Character Portrait: Cadriel
Cadriel

Praises for our past triumphs are as feathers to a dead bird.

Character Portrait: Temno Shadowveil
Temno Shadowveil

"Darkness shouldn't even be solid. That's why I can do anything."

Most Followed

Character Portrait: Lulu Botrelle
Lulu Botrelle

"You can't make an omelet without breaking eggs, but the Devil's in the details"

Character Portrait: Larke Sterling
Larke Sterling

Drug addict/Genuinely nice guy

Character Portrait: Agent Mayday
Agent Mayday

Liberty and Death

Character Portrait: Allen Memoli
Allen Memoli

"What's life without a little fun~?"

Character Portrait: Tessa Avalon
Tessa Avalon

Innocence mixed with Malice

Character Portrait: Mina Aldridge
Mina Aldridge

"If it don't give you a heart attack on the spot, it ain't sweet enough."

Character Portrait: Kora Norrevinter
Kora Norrevinter

I know one thing that does not die, the judgement of a dead man's life.

Character Portrait: Seraphina Iclosis
Seraphina Iclosis

"I can still see, you know."

Character Portrait: Samon Cauldier
Samon Cauldier

"Heh, you wouldn't hurt a blind fellow such as myself, would ya?"

Character Portrait: Dawn Memoli
Dawn Memoli

"Tomorrow will be a better day."


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The Citadel

The Citadel by ianna_334

The pinnacle of Erubesco glory, don't let the medieval inspiration distract you from the technological marvels it hides

Liberty Base Alpha A

Liberty Base Alpha A by ianna_334

Welcome to Liberty Base Alpha A. We hope you have a productive stay. This is a place for work, not play. Cheer for Liberty, hip hip hooray.

Helton

Helton by ianna_334

A nice safe place to rest... If you don't mind death, decay, and skeletons.

The Wasteland

The Wasteland by Miss Echo

An apocalyptic landscape, most of it is covered by ash, earning the nickname "The Ashland"

The Wasteland

An apocalyptic landscape, most of it is covered by ash, earning the nickname "The Ashland"

Liberty Base Alpha A

Welcome to Liberty Base Alpha A. We hope you have a productive stay. This is a place for work, not play. Cheer for Liberty, hip hip hooray.

The Citadel

The pinnacle of Erubesco glory, don't let the medieval inspiration distract you from the technological marvels it hides

Helton

A nice safe place to rest... If you don't mind death, decay, and skeletons.

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