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TJ a dû mordre sa lèvre pour s'empêcher de réagir trop sauvagement à la sensation de la main de Scab. Il a supprimé un gémissement dégoûté comme la sensation grossière a réussi à passer par ses mains épaisses. La plupart des choses qu'il touchait normalement ne l'ont pas ébranlé, donc avoir quelque chose d'aussi éclatant... dégueulasse que celui-ci était choquant. Peut-être qu'il devrait se concentrer sur quelque chose d'autre pour s'en sortir. Comme sa présentation! Scab...barde. C'est un cambriolage. T.J. s'est compris comme un signe d'union alors qu'il racontait son histoire de Scab. Personne ne voudrait qu'on l'appelle une gale... c'est dégueulasse! À un moment donné, TJ s'est rendu compte qu'il n'avait pas encore lâché la main de Scabbrard pour une raison quelconque. Ou plutôt... Scab n'avait pas encore lâché sa main. Quelle était la prise de cet homme? Il devait sûrement en avoir un bon s'il espérait même soulever cette épée géante sur son dos, mais cela devenait ridicule! TJ faisait un effort très concentré pour s'en sortir maintenant tout en maintenant son expression de compréhension. Allez... À peu près, TJ a réussi à se branler la main de Scabbrds. Cependant, afin de maintenir ses airs gentleman, il a fluidement transformé son abruti de bras en une grosse pate sur l'épaule de Scab. Il a dit haut et fort, je comprends... C'est inadapté à quiconque d'avoir un nom moins qu'admirable quelle que soit leur apparence! Vous n'avez pas besoin de vous inquiéter pour moi en vous parlant comme tel, mon ami. Mais pour l'instant, il a pointé la route, je crois que c'est la route vers notre Crabage Crasher!... En prenant la tête, TJ a commencé pour la boutique que Zehst a franchie.

Name: Teodore Jay “TJ” Dugrass Age: 20 Gender: Male Race: Human Height and Weight: 6’5’’, 200 lbs Bounty: 0 Beli Personality: TJ is a boisterous man that just as boisterously claims himself to be a gentleman. As such, he strives at all hours of the day to perfect his gentlemanly manners and abides by the gentleman’s code of conduct. There are times, however, that he must painfully lay down his morals for the sake of achieving his dream. Such as when it comes to money. TJ is a shrewd businessman that sells his services for a high price. He may dislike having to negotiate in an ungentlemanly manner, but he tries not to let it bother him. History: TJ was born and raised in Loguetown. He greatly admired the fry cook industry and worked himself up from a humble dishwasher to an ace cook over the course of several years. As a child, he was told stories of a fabled island filled with legendary and exquisite creatures no man had ever laid their tongue on. As he grew into an adult, he aspired to one day find this island- not just for discovery’s sake, but to contribute to his larger goal of opening the greatest food service chain on the Grand Line. Originally he planned on working to save up more travel money, but the restaurant he worked in for most of his life recently bombed. Literally it blew up and left him jobless. Seeing it as a sign to get started, he has decided to become a pirate as a means for adventure. Abilities: -Boxing: As a gentleman, TJ is well versed in the basics of fisticuffs. -Exquisite Grilled Cuisine: Being a former fry cook in a busy restaurant, TJ knows and is more than capable of making a variety of grill-related dishes on the fly. Techniques: --- Traits:Big Meaty Claws - TJ's fists are, for a lack of a better word, meaty. They are thick and tough, allowing him to block and punch without damaging his precious hands. At least most of the time. Inventory: A stainless steel spatula and a copy of “The Gentleman’s Book of Etiquette.”

Scabbrd regarda dorlotement son nouvel ami, musclé, alors qu'il mettait une main amicale sur son épaule. Scabbrd regarda la main avec une légère surprise : peu de gens étaient enclins à le toucher... Il comprit, ce qui avec sa peau grincheuse, mais Dugrass était l'un des rares à lui mettre une main entière, cinq doigts sur lui et non pas yelp ou s'enfuir. Il l'a regardé avec un sourire, laissant sa main se serrer la main paresseusement à son côté. Ce n'est pas mal... Il le regarda prendre rapidement la tête et partir avec admiration. Ce type doit avoir un sens assez solide de la direction... était-il un navigateur? Scab s'est demandé s'il n'avait jamais été sur un navire avant... ou s'il le voudrait. Il pourrait se servir de quelqu'un qui savait où il allait, s'il devait aller n'importe où... où il prévoyait d'aller? Où a-t-il prévu d'aller encore? Il n'y avait pas vraiment pensé.....alors qu'il commençait à y penser, cependant, il devint soudain évident pour lui que Dugrass, en fait, avait marché dans cette direction. Il s'est empressé de rattraper son retard, hissant une fois de plus son épée massive sur ses épaules.

Name: Scabbard Age: 18(??) Gender: Male Race: Human Height and Weight: 6'1, 171 lbs Bounty: 0 Beli Personality: Perpetually sleepy and groggy, as the pain of his burns often gives him trouble sleeping. Rarely raises his voice, if ever. Often laid-back and kind of lazy, but quietly focused when things get heavy. Has a strong, personal sense of justice, which he rarely talks about, but often puts into action when he can. He desires information about his past more than anything. History: Scabbard's life is a complete blank slate to him. Waking up in a dingy Loguetown alley one day without a memory in his head, even a name. The only thing he had was a large sword, chained in its sheathe with a mysterious lock without a key, and a hideous body covered in painful burn scars. With no connections, or Beli to his name, he turned to petty crime to earn a living, taking the name of the first thing he saw: The scabbard of the locked-away blade. While life as a small-time crook gave him food to eat, he longed to learn who he really was, and saw the free life of a pirate as the ideal way to find out. Now his dream is to travel the seas, and one day find both his lost identity, and the key to the lock that seals his mysterious sword. Abilities: Swordsmanship: Scabbard fights with the locked-up blade he awoke with. Since the blade is locked in its sheath, it serves as a blunt weapon. Techniques: Traits: Inventory: Large, Two-Handed Locked-Up Sword

C'est pas vrai! Giko l'a vraiment entendu, Claribel l'a vite découvert. Ce n'était pas si fort, n'est-ce pas? Elle ne semblait pas remarquer, ou l'esprit, que les mouettes ont commencé à fouler, malgré leur symbolisme marine évident. Mais alors...Claribel a été réprimandé par un soudain interloqué, qui a pris la main de Giko dans la sienne. Giko ne semblait pas penser, ou entendre, simplement poser une autre question à Claribel, mais puis une mouette s'est approchée beaucoup trop près, se précipitant dans la bouche de Giko. "Ah! Vous..." Claribel sifflait, se chargeant, glissant devant le mec, attrapeant l'oiseau offensif et tirant, tirant l'oiseau en difficulté de la bouche de Giko. En tenant son bas du corps, il a commencé à battre ses ailes avec ferveur, Claribel et le mec dans sa gamme. Claribel a eu un visage plein d'ailes plumeuses... avant qu'elle ne lâche l'oiseau, le jetant furieusement dans l'air, avant de lui donner des coups de pied à la foule qui cueille encore des bouts de beignet. Elle s'écria : "Allez-vous-en, stupides oiseaux! Les oiseaux sont si stupides et ennuyeux! Ils volent et font chier!" Elle s'est calmée, elle a regardé entre Giko et le gars, avant de glisser sa TD hors de la tête de Giko, les yeux se retourneant entre les deux. S'il vous plaît. Claribel semblait s'attendre à beaucoup de choses ces dernières minutes!

Name: Claribel Donner Age: 17 Gender: Female Race: Human Height and Weight: 5'4'', 100 lbs Bounty: 0 Beli Personality: Claribel is about as carefree as they come. When it comes to people, she is generally pretty dismissive of most, often right to their faces. Her rudeness doesn't stop there, as her honesty often comes to mouth before anything resembling restraint. She is also stubborn and single-minded: when she sets herself to something she's probably not stopping until it's done. She can be quite clever when she has the care for it: combat, for instance. She also tends to take some things for granted, as her upbringing wasn't exactly the most normal. One thing she cannot stand is the mundane, thought not because she dislikes it, but because it doesn't stick in her brain at all. She seeks interesting people and situations, sometimes to the point of recklessness. One might even say that's what she lives for. She certainly has a bit of rebellious, teenage spirit, as she occasionally does things if she thinks something interesting will come out of it. History: Claribel has been familiar with the modern sea of pirates for a long time, as she came into this world on the vessel of what would become a pirate ship. At first, it had been the vessel of a lucrative business as an upscale passenger liner, but it was no stranger to pirates, as it weathered numerous scuffles in the East Blue Seas thanks to the strength and wit of Flors Donner. However, as it so often does, tragedy struck, in a form. After a journey that took place while Claribel was at the tender age of 3, a passenger who had been wounded in a pirate attack sought to press charges against Flors Donner and his estate, the legal avenues proving successful, the hefty fees damaging the company beyond repair. Though he was required to turn over his ship to account for bankruptcy, he denied this, running off with his ship, daughter, wife, and trusted crew. Now he was at an impasse: having fought pirates for such a length, he had no desire to enter their ranks, let alone with a woman and child on board, but the Government had scorned him, so he was now technically an outlaw. As he struggled with his options, the answer came to his from the mouth of his wife, Isabel, who said something he'd never have considered with the safety of his wife and daughter to consider. Flors Donner became a pirate. But with a wife and child he could not afford to take a bounty, so while he flew the black flag symbolizing freedom, he never pillaged or killed. No, he targeted those who'd plagued his business for years on end, aiming at pirates. Not at first, of course: while he was one of the strongest men he'd known, his crew tough and loyal, if small, and Isabel was getting better with a rifle for those worst case scenarios, he wasn't convinced they were safe. So Flors turned to the newspaper, following the paths of pirates, arriving like a bountiful wind in their ashy wake. He went from town to town to find those who had been left behind by the Marines, and relighting their fire, giving them purpose. And so the Inferno Pirates sailed to the day where the sight of their flag would strike fear in the hearts of pirates and hope in the heart of the common man. As for the toddler on board, Claribel's childhood was spent among the sailors, learning their names and their stories, picking up some useful seafaring knowledge and skills to boot. After a while, that was: not because she was young when she was taught. When it came to combat she learned much quicker. But while the crew initially believe it to be a matter of interest, or talent, the truth would be learned later. Isabel had become stricken with grief upon learning of the death of her parents, news of which was relayed to Claribel. And yet, some hours later, Claribel was upset, not sure of why her mother was sad. After being told once more, she was satisfied, until the next morning, when Claribel was once more confused about her mother's mood. The young girl had known that her mother was sad, but she couldn't remember why. After she'd forgotten the death of her grandparents yet again, Flors was getting concerned, and began to seek out some medical advice. Claribel had always been a bit absent minded, but this was a bit much. After some study, there was a hypothesis that seemed to fit what Flors knew of his daughter: Claribel had a memory disorder. She could only remember things that were interesting to her the first time. Otherwise, she would need to be told repeatedly. Even then, however, she still risked forgetting again after a while. Claribel certainly didn't forget that. She even got a bit worried: what kind of things had she forgotten? If something became boring to her, would she forget about it one day? She couldn't just decide what was genuinely interesting to her or not either. After some thinking, she finally concluded that if she was going to have problems remembering things, then she should just get as many interesting memories as she could. Through her teenage years, Claribel would finally start helping a bit more out on the ship, mostly aiding in the sailing until age fifteen, where her father allowed her to start fighting alongside the rest of the crew, where she showed that she did have a good deal of strength. But once the novelty of that wore off, she was starting to get bored: she'd been on the boat for her entire life, after all. She had to come up with something. Then, almost two years later, opportunity knocked. After a battle with pirates, the crew looted a Devil Fruit, and Flors sent the quartermaster to work on getting a buyer. Claribel wasn't having any of that though. In the dead of night, she went to where the Fruit was kept and ate as much as she could stomach (less than half) before leaving the rest and leaving the boat in the middle of the night, only leaving a note explaining that she'd left. Chances are they were going to be pissed, but Claribel was happy. Not that she was now free: she always had been. But now all the adventures and stories she'd had with them were good memories, and would probably never become boring, so she'd never forget them. Now she had to contend with the day to day: figuring out how to get along alone while also working out the kinks of her tricky Fruit. But six months after striking out, three of them on the legendary Loguetown, she's starting to get a bit bored of her locale, wondering when she's going to get to start the interesting life she'd been looking for.... It can't start in a boring way, after all! Abilities:Echo Echo Fruit (Eko Eko no Mi)A paramecia-type Devil Fruit that bestows Claribel with the ability to create echoes where there otherwise wouldn't have been any. The only requirement is that she must be near the origin of the noise within the last minute. Then, with her hands, she can manipulate the air to recreate the sound, one of her hands emitting pulses of faint white light as she does so. It doesn't need to be identical, however, as she can also manipulate where it goes, though some applications of her ability are unbeknownst to her: she can make a sound pass back and forth over a person, making them hear one thing several times, or she can redirect the whole wave at once onto a single point, creating a much louder resonance in a small area, attacking the eardrums. However, every time she makes a sound repeat, it steadily decreases in volume, like any echo. Deaf opponents or any with ear protection are more resistant to her abilities, as they can't hear her misdirection. It's worth noting that her control of sound is limited to the medium of gases. Liquids aren't workable (such as water, the bane of Fruit users) and solids more so, meaning she can't redirect or copy sounds she can feel from the ground or hear while underwater (though if the sound is loud enough it enters the air, however muffled, that's another story). Rod Fu - Claribel is tough enough to hold her own, using a sturdy iron rod as a bludgeoning instrument. Navigation - Claribel's time at sea has made her into a reliable navigator as well as a talented cartographer. She is not only knowledgeable regarding weather and world events, but is also well capable of using tools such as maps, compasses and sea charts. Techniques: Claribel doesn't yell out her technique names in the middle of battle, but that doesn't mean they can't be named! Echo – Claribel takes a sound or phrase just emitted and repeats it. She can change the location it comes from as long as it's fairly close by. The volume is decreased slightly, however. Echo Pop – A natural extension of her Echo. Claribel takes a sound, usually a very loud one like a gunshot or the bang of her rod hitting something hard (like a skull!), and repeats it numerous times in quick succession, usually right by someone's head. The result is a sudden burst of disorienting sound that often leaves the target venerable to further attack. It's tricky to pull off, since it requires more precision, so Claribel isn't capable of it yet! Shoosh – Claribel redirects the voice of a person away from their intended target. If someone is trying to yell for help, then Claribel can redirect the sound so that it travels backwards, for instance. This doesn't affect the volume of the sound though, and she has trouble catching the further echoes. A yell in a narrow hallway will carry both ways no matter what she does, but someone yelling from a boat in the ocean to a nearby shore is out of luck if Claribel wants them to keep quiet. A-pu-pup! Shoosh – A more precise version of the standard technique, Claribel 'grabs' a sound, effectively quieting it down, redirecting it in the same bubble, so to speak, without letting the sound bounce off another surface and echo naturally. Imagine a sound as a superball, bouncing madly, each bounce making the noise that reverberates and become audible. Were Claribel to grab that sound midair, redirecting it back and forth until it naturally petered out, she would create a silence from a sound, in effect. Like Echo Pop, this technique is beyond her current ability due to the focus and precision required. Traits:Improved Perception: She has an easier time hearing the echos and reverberations left by other things, and has better hearing for it. However, it's dependent on conditions: it a crowded street, there's so much noise it's hard to focus on any particular sound unless it stands out, but in silent room, she can probably hear the fast heartbeat of a hiding person. Aside from mere perception, she can't do much with it. Being able to tell if someone is lying or not based on their heartbeat would be to difficult even in ideal conditions for instance. Focus is also important: in the heat of battle, differentiating sounds is certainly trickier. Inventory:Iron Rod: Sturdy enough to trade blows and noisy on the right surfaces. It's straight, cylindrical, and a bit less than a meter long. Tone Dials (TDs): Claribel almost always has a pair around her neck or over her ears.

Nom: Gold Dorado Jr. Lieu: Ville de Logue - À l'extérieur du magasin Mention: Le sourire poli n'a pas fait grand-chose pour cacher une expression que l'on pourrait qualifier de «point de question» en ce qui concerne Zehst. Le jeune homme était étrange, sans aucun doute, mais en même temps Gold se sentait comme il avait très peu de terrain à juger quand il est venu à l'étrangeté, donc juste sourit et tenta de raisonner avec lui. « C'est une utilisatrice de fruits du diable, et si j'avais à deviner, elle en a mangé une assez bonne aussi. Probablement mieux si vous n'avez pas essayé de l'attraper." Il a laissé un élément de plaisanterie dans son ton. L'offre de nourriture n'est pas passée inaperçue par l'or, et il n'était pas non plus inappréciable. Bien qu'étant un médecin et un artiste martial bien voyagé, il n'avait pas l'idée la plus faible de cuisiner de la bonne nourriture. Il l'a essayé une fois, en supposant que ce ne soit pas différent que d'effectuer une opération. C'était un incident, pour le moins. "Ça n'a pas vraiment fait grand-chose, mais je vais t'en parler, Mh-hm. Appelez-moi Dorado - ou Gold, ce qui vous convient." Il tourne son attention vers les trois plus jeunes individus, sourcils élevés avec curiosité. "Vous avez l'air frais, qu'est-ce que vous faites dans ce piège touristique? Avec les capacités de Devil Fruit, à cela."

Name: Gold Dorado Jr. Age: 24 Gender: Male Race: Human Height and Weight: 6'1, 169lbs Bounty: 0 Beli Personality: Life is meant to be lived, conveniences are meant to be used, and money is there to be spent. Gold takes the "live fast die hard" route to life, a character unbecoming of his lofty position as a man of medicine. Still, there credit should be given where it is due, it'd be difficult to call Gold miserable man of any sort, often viewing situations through a positive lens despite how hopeless the situation may be (even if he was the one to make that situation hopeless, like with say... loan sharks). Nor is he an unfriendly man, if only a tad crude and tactless at times. His debt-riddled lifestyle lead to him travelling quite a bit, making him a worldly young man who has already stepped foot in the Grand Line. History: How a family of ancient medicine men and doctors managed to become habitual gamblers and eternal debtors is anyone's guess. Gold Jr. is just another one in the line, taking up the debts of his father alongside his brother, Silver Dorado. The difference between the two being that while Gold chose to indulge in life much like his father, Silver eventually took the straight and narrow path, driving a wedge between the two as they turned out to be very, very different people. Eventually their father passed from his poor life style, and the two brothers were rather suddenly left to their own devices. Rather than resolve to simply go their separate ways, there was a confrontation over which path they should both take together, employing their Old World Acupuncture as a weapon against one another. It did eventually lead to them both going their own ways, Silver to the Marines and Gold deeper into the gamblers lifestyle. This does not mean that Gold has no ambition, not at all - he is a doctor after all, and he ultimately hopes to help others. Were it up to him, he'd have found the Panacea by now. Abilities: Old World Acupuncture What differentiates Old World Acupuncture from what an elder on any number of islands may know how to do? Well, for starters it works. Gold is not one to go into the details out of want of not wanting to sound absurd, but Old World Acupuncture involves manipulation of the bodies energy to hasten healing processes, and in some cases do the healing for the bodies. As such, Gold has intimate knowledge of the 'meridian system' in humans and fishmen (although there is a gap in his knowledge when it comes to the longarm and longleg tribes), and how to enhance and/or reduce the effectiveness of their bodies. It's essentially a medical martial art, especially with how Gold applies it. There is a form of it which exists without needles, using instead contact through the fingers and a burst of 'life energies' to instead replicate the effects of needles, although that is substantially more risky to use on an individual due to its far more aggressive nature. Techniques: --- Traits: Enhanced Agility - You'd not expect a doctor, especially not one versed in 'acupuncture', to be capable of moving at the speeds that Dorado is capable of, but Old World Acpuncture is no standard medical practice. In practice, Gold's speed can be considered 'deceptive', flowing movements suddenly followed up by crashing and precise blows. Master of Anatomy - A given, for the most part. Although lacking any actual medical qualification, Gold is one of the better doctors out there. Inventory: Log Pose, acupuncture needles

Après tous les combats, le raid sur le magasin avait finalement pris fin. Les gangsters avaient été soumis, le Nez Ring avait été enlevé par un chasseur de primes de toutes sortes, et le magasin était (en partie) intact. De plus, le commerçant appréciait l'état dans lequel se trouvait son magasin, offrant même d'emmener le groupe impromptu dans un restaurant, de toutes choses! A quel point ça aurait été mauvais si le groupe de bizarreries n'était pas là? Probablement pas aussi mal, honnêtement - mais ce n'est ni ici ni là-bas. Mis à part cela, le Rocket Man s'était présenté à Tenmon. Il s'appelait Zehst. Zehst Messerschmitt. Non seulement cela, mais il a révélé que sa puissance venait d'un fruit du Diable. Bien que Tenmon l'avait déjà déduit il y a un moment, étant donné qu'il avait appris les sous et les hors de Devil Fruits quand il était plus jeune. Dommage qu'il n'ait eu cette explication qu'après en avoir mangé une. "Roke-Roke Fruit..." Tenmon a dit, en pensant au pouvoir. "Je suppose que c'est un type de Paramecia, n'est-ce pas?" Tenmon n'a pas attendu une réponse. Au lieu de ça, il a regardé que la mante-femme est devenue une... femme-femme? Une Paramecia et un Zoan? C'était vrai, plus on se rapproche de la Grand Ligne, plus on trouve d'utilisateurs de fruits du Diable. Bien sûr, la Grand Line était pleine de gens comme ça - lui-même inclus. La femme mante s'appelait Lucretia Savaronitelle. Elle semblait porter une aura noble à son sujet. Probablement pas au niveau d'un de ces Nobles du Monde, mais certainement riche dans une certaine mesure. Le docteur semblait aussi connaître les fruits du Diable. Gold Dorado Jr, ils l'ont appelé. C'est quoi, ça? Le nom avait quelques similitudes avec le premier roi pirate. Tenmon s'est demandé s'il avait souvent été interrogé à ce sujet. À ce stade, tout le monde s'était présenté d'une certaine manière - à l'exception de Tenmon, qui avait très peu parlé de lui-même à travers toute l'épreuve. Oui. Les Ninjas ne révèlent pas leur identité, de toute façon. Oui. - C'est quoi, ça? C'était une bonne excuse. Il se présenterait plus tard. Ça marcherait. "Vous avez l'air frais, qu'est-ce que vous faites dans ce piège touristique? Avec les capacités de Devil Fruit, à cela." "Hm? Moi? Je vais faire un voyage à travers la Grand Line."

Name: Tenmon Tamashi Age: 17 Gender: Male Race: Human Height and Weight: 168 cm (5'6") 66 kg (145 lb) Bounty: 0 Beli Personality: In contrast to most other ninja of the Wano Country, Tenmon seems to be quite casual about being a ninja, and often demonstrates his skill and agility in front of people while declaring himself to be one. Whereas most ninjas would be geared to solitary operations, Tenmon doesn't seem to mind working independently or in a group. He appears to carry a fairly level-headed aura, rarely becoming agitated or worried about matters. This casual nature seems to also extend to combat, where Tenmon assesses his enemies with a cool approach, while also acting quite respectfully to his opponents most of the time. Despite this overall casual nature, Tenmon is more than willing to adopt a more serious persona for the sake of victory, becoming significantly more formidable and dangerous. In these situations, he may also adopt a more cold-blooded mentality, becoming willing to kill as a last resort, if he deems it to be necessary. Unsurprisingly, Tenmon isn't one to talk about his history. Unless someone actively tries to pry into it, Tenmon will often play his past off as something "unimportant". The eccentricity of his father has influenced him a bit, although it is often belied by his casual side. Tenmon is sometimes fond of jokes and nonsensical actions at inappropriate or tense moments - cheering on his comrades in a fight when he could be actually helping them by joining in, for example. He's also got a tendency to "disappear" and "appear" in places without being noticed. That's just a part of being a ninja. History: A trained assassin and sole user of the Burst Technique™, Tenmon seeks to become the ultimate ninja (whatever that entails). The Tamashi Clan was once a recognized force within the Wano Country, a centuries-old clan of ninjas that had been known for their mercenary work throughout the nation, which allowed them to become a wealthy organization over the course of years. Their desire for an even greater profit led them to eventually abandon Wano, settling on one of the many "remote" islands within Paradise with the intention of expanding their potential clientèle - by taking mercenary work from various islands as opposed to a single nation. The only son of the Tamashi Clan's Grandmaster, Tenmon supposedly consumed a Devil Fruit at a very early age, being uneducated about their existence. The Bomu Bomu no Mi proved to be a dangerous power to wield whilst growing up, leading some of the members being afraid of touching Tenmon for fear of him blowing up. Tenmon's father - the eccentric Grandmaster Soju - saw it as a grand opportunity to cultivate and incorporate Tenmon's power into his ninja training. This was the beginning of the development of the Burst Technique™, and a majority of Tenmon's childhood was spent developing it. Many of Tenmon's training sessions were done within the forest, alone. His Devil Fruit power was "too risky" to practice around other people after all. Charred grass and ashen trees were a good way to show he was making progress, anyway. During his training, the mercenary work of the clan flourished, with many different islands and people requesting various jobs. This would eventually prove to be the undoing of the clan when the clan undertook a job that involved, well, killing a World Noble. Being from the Wano Country, the Tamashi Clan was unaffliated with the World Government and therefore held no sense of value or knowledge about the World Nobles. The consequences were catastrophic, with Marines besieging and destroying the Tamashi Clan in its near entirety. Tenmon returned to what was essentially ruins; a severely damaged temple littered with bodies. His isolated training was the only reason he had survived, and yet he felt a deep sense of regret and despair for not being there to defend the clan its time of need. There was no way for him to enact vengeance, either; the Marines had already departed. The event sparked in him a hatred of the World Government, particularly the World Nobles, and the Admiral that launched the attack on his temple. That was only four years ago. Now, Tenmon searches for that same Admiral. Although his search was set back by arriving in Loguetown a few months ago: He had stowed away on one too many ships, and ended up being taken in the wrong direction - out of the Grand Line. Tenmon has since used Loguetown to gather whatever resources he can, and intends to set out upon a journey to become a powerful ninja, and challenge the Admiral that destroyed his clan. But even so, Tenmon questions his motive of revenge every now and again, feeling that it wouldn't be the clan's will for him to seek it. Abilities: Ninjutsu As ninja from Wano Country, Tenmon is able to perform various ninja arts, in addition to being unnaturally agile and dexterous. His abilities combine atypical weaponry with the power of his Devil Fruit, giving him a high amount of versatility in combat. Devil Fruit: Bomu Bomu no Mi The Bomu Bomu no Mi is a Paramecia-type Devil Fruit that allows the user to make any part of his or her body explode, making the user a Bomb Human. Eating this Devil Fruit at an early age, Tenmon has been raised to develop it into a fighting style, creating the Burst Technique™; a combination of unarmed ninjutsu and his explosive power. The fighting style allows Tenmon to deal agile explosive blows, in addition to multi-hit attacks for more - albeit significantly weaker - explosions. While powerful, the fighting style is kind of a double-edged sword: the collateral damage followed by the explosions is generally very undesirable (shipwrights HATE him) - especially if allies are nearby. Tenmon generally holds off on the Burst Technique™ as a result. At the moment, the explosions created by Tenmon's named moves are - at most - strong enough to leave medium-large holes in brick walls, but do not quite have the fire-power to destroy much beyond that. Techniques: Ninjutsu Techniques Ninja Arts: Sweeping Dusk Blade Tenmon kneels and dashes forward, cleaving the air with his sword as he passes by. Used to attack a single target quickly, but can also hit multiple enemies, although Tenmon has to hit them each individually - a difficult feat that becomes increasingly harder to accomplish the more targets there are. Ninja Arts: Crescent Strike Tenmon performs a front flip, and kicks using the momentum of the flip to deal more damage. Ninja Arts: Half-Moon Strike An attack to be used directly after its crescent counterpart. Tenmon vaults off of an enemy he's kicked, jumping behind them to kick again. Ninja Arts: Flash Step Tenmon quickly dashes in order to avoid an attack, or get into a more favourable position. Doesn't seem to be as fast as Soru, as the moves do not share the same technique: Soru requires kicking off the ground at least 10 times, whereas Ninja Arts: Flash Step is just a very swift dash. Ninja Arts: Throw Tenmon throws a miscellaneous item at an enemy. Not really a Ninja Art, but he calls it one anyway. Burst Techniques Ninja Arts: Smoke Burst Tenmon obscures himself in an explosion of smoke, allowing him to move to a different location quickly, or attack enemies while the smokescreen persists. Ninja Arts: Chi Burst Tenmon thrusts his palm outward creates an explosion in the hand. In comparison to his other moves, this one has slightly more range, and doesn't rely on his hand making contact with the target. However, it's a fairly simple move to the point of being almost awkward to use. Ninja Arts: Burst Bomb Tenmon throws a punch and detonates his fist upon contact, resulting in a high amount of damage from both the punch and the following explosion. Ninja Arts: Burst Crescent Similarly to Ninja Arts: Crescent Strike, Tenmon performs a front flip and kicks. Tenmon detonates his leg on impact, offering a high amount of destructive power. Ninja Arts: Spiral Dragon Burst Tenmon jumps into the air and spins while upside down, delivering a kick while detonating his leg. Traits: Blank. Inventory: Yugure A simple weapon bestowed to Tenmon by the Tamashi Clan. Fundamentally, Yugure is a normal ninjatō which features a blue handle and silver guard. The sheath is entirely blue, but also has circular designs embedded on the length of the sheath. As one can imagine, the blade of the weapon is particularly thick and short in comparison to longer swords such as a katana, being around 50cm in length. It's small size makes it fairly simple for Tenmon to wield and also allows for faster attacks. Kunai A single kunai to be employed as a dagger secondary to Yugure, allowing for more consecutive attacks and accurate critical strikes (he goes for the eyes). Picture of Tenmon's Father RIP Grandmaster Soju

Nom: Chambre R. Wesson Lieu: Ville de Logue - Guns & Donuts! Mention: Qu'est-ce qu'il y a? Je ne peux pas lire LIPS AUFUGHAH! La chambre cligne des yeux quand il voit la grosse mouette se loger dans la bouche de son âme sœur. C'était la chose la plus aléatoire qu'il ait jamais vue et avant de pouvoir tenter un sauvetage héroïque, le vent a été volé de ses voiles quand son ami est sorti pour débrancher l'oiseau. La chambre leva son bras pour garder son visage de la frénésie giflée de l'oiseau donné, et quand la créature fut libérée dans le ciel, son attention fut dirigée vers l'essaim d'autres oiseaux qui s'étaient soudainement rassemblés autour de lui pour ramasser les miettes de beignets. Grandissant irrité, Chamber descendit pour attraper l'une des mouettes gourmandes par l'arrière de son cou. Il a ensuite tiré d'un étui à sa hanche, l'un de ses pistolets et a pressé sur le côté de la tête de l'oiseau. Il menaçait, si vous ne voulez pas voir cet oiseau exploser sur le trottoir, alors vous sortirez d'ici! Toutes les mouettes arrêtèrent de manger pour regarder le tireur et regardèrent leur ami tremblant et agitant ses pieds de toile dans la panique. Avec un cri de guerre, le premier oiseau a lancé comme un missile à Chamber pour se connecter à sa tête. C'est quoi, ça? C'est quoi ce bordel!Il a maudit. Bientôt un troupeau de mouettes en colère le piégeait et le bombardait à droite et à gauche. Levant ses pieds, il s'enfuit sur les oiseaux et se trouva lentement éloigné de Giko. Vous interférez, il a crié. Mon chéri! Attendez-moi! Je reviendrai avec du poulet frit!

Photo depicts the loot he sometimes gets from hunting pirates. Age: 25 Gender: Male Race: Human Height and Weight: 5’10” and 165 lbs. Bounty: 0 Beli Personality: Chamber Remington Wesson is mostly a friendly guy, but he takes his business seriously. He takes pride in his abilities as a marksman, a gunmith, and his ability to…yodel. Yodeling is normally how he makes his entrance when he isn’t executing a target from a great distance. Not only is he proud, but he is also arrogant. When you’re as good as him with guns…well…you have every right to be if you can back it up, and Chamber takes gunslinging to a whole new level. He believes he is the fastest and deadliest shot in the World, and will defend his self-proclaimed title. Chamber is under the blind impression that people not only like his yodeling but his handsome looks. He will try to impress cute and beautiful girls—one of his goals being to find a wife so he can pass down his amazing genes. Truly, his eyes were a gift from God. When he isn’t hunting bounties, he is tinkering with his rifle, cleaning his guns, and training. There is always room for improvement and if he wants to truly be the best, then he has to work at it. Hunting bounties allows him to encounter new and unique foes that bring him fresh and interesting encounters. He chose the life of a bounty hunter to polish his skills even despite…well…being a wanted man himself. History:Chamber hails from St. Poplar, an island town in Paradise connected to Water 7 and Enies Lobby by Sea Train. He lived the dream of most boys, wanting to grow up to be a Marine and he worked hard to achieve that dream. His father, Marine Captain Smith Wesson, was his role model. He was strong, proud, and an excellent shot with a gun. When his father returned home from R&R, they would practice and Chamber’s hawkeye gift was noticed early on. When Chamber came of age, he left his mother Annabelle to follow his father into the employment of the World Government. He and his father traveled all over and there were many instances where Chamber got to test his gunslinging skills for real. It was when Chamber began to modify the musket that he had been issued that he became aware of the World Government’s restrictions. He wasn’t allowed to modify government equipment even if it was to improve its performance. Officers tended to be the only individuals to allow special gear and equipment, and Chamber thought that policy was ridiculous. His skills were underappreciated. The officers on the ship tried to keep him in their shadows. He constantly butted-heads with a lieutenant named Bass Cooley who was under his father and who he noticed seemed…awfully close. It was as though his father had found himself a new son while he was out to sea for so long and he treated Chamber like all the other Marines. A fierce rivalry formed between him and Cooley, and no matter how much Bass disliked him he knew that Chamber was the better shot. He had to get rid of the kid if was to stay in Captain Wesson’s good graces. He was up for promotion! On a mission to apprehend Sugar Ray pirates off the coast of the Conomi Islands, there was a heated battle between the two vessels and a violent exchange of cannon fire. In the middle of the battle, Lieutenant Cooley forced Chamber overboard. He was caught between the ships and their fire and in order to survive, he had to dive and swim as far out of the way of the two ships. He was left stranded in the ocean and exhaustion eventually took him. He washed ashore Cocoyasi Village and was rescued by a fisherman named Gil. Gil gave him a place to stay until he could get in contact with his unit, and when he managed to he learned that he was KIA. He had a decision to make then. He could either return to his pathetic life under the foot of every officer on the ship, or he could make his own life and live unrestrained. Chamber chose to do the latter and while he stayed with Gil in Cocoyasi, he modified his musket and other weapons the way he had always wanted to. He continued to go after criminals in his own way as a feared bounty hunter. So his mother didn’t worry over the possibility of his death in combat, Chamber sent his mother a letter and news traveled to Captain Wesson that his son was still alive. Lieutenant Cooley labeled him as a deserter for having not returned to the Marines, and he has since become an outlaw. His bounty journey has taken him to Logue Town, a popular trade center where he knows he’s going to collect some loot. Abilities: Extraordinary Marksman – Chamber is a gifted man. “Son of Gun” would be true. The way he handles his guns is completely unorthodox and it’s a sight to behold. His eyes are sharp, his reaction time even sharper, and his depth perception so keen that he could shoot the wings off a fly’s back. He has designed all of his weapons around his style of combat, and a lot of his designs are hidden within his long coat. Tae Kwon Gun – It is Chamber’s martial art style. It is similar to Tae Kwon Do with his flurry of kicks except that each of his strikes trigger mechanisms that he calls Sliders and they are strapped to his forearms and shins. They not only act as guards against bladed weaponry but they carry magazines of rounds. For each thrust and of his legs and fists, the slider moves back, loading a round into the chamber, and then slides forward releasing the round. So while combating his foes, he can also fill them full of lead. Burdened Fighter – If only one knew how many weapons he has concealed on his person. It makes him heavier than he really is and his muscles have been conditioned to bear the burden. So if he seems quick while burdened, wait until he takes it all off. He becomes even faster and his techniques even fiercer. Techniques: Ricochet – A gun trick where Chamber will shoot a round off a deflective surface and the round with change directory to hit the enemy where he or she didn’t see it coming. He has also used this technique to knock enemy rounds off course of their intended target. He can also perform this technique with his musket. Quick Draw – The hand is quicker than the eye and Chamber is quick if not the quickest. Gun Jam – Using his Quick Draw technique, Chamber can jam another weapon by lodging a bullet down the enemy’s barrel. Traits: --- Inventory: Sliders – 4 – 8 round capacity. Pistols – 4 – 8 round capacity. Derringer -2- 1 round each. Musket – 1 – single round reload capacity. Attachments: Bayonet and Scope.

La zone autour de Giko a éclaté dans le chaos alors que ses nouvelles amies ont battu l'oiseau dans sa bouche tandis que le gars en trench coat tenait une arme à la tête et criait quelque chose. Elle ne pouvait pas vraiment comprendre ce qu'il disait, puisque ses oreilles sonnaient encore de l'ensemble TD, mais il était certainement très passionné et rempli de colère juste, si bon pour lui. Au moment où elle avait fini de tousser des plumes qui s'étaient logées dans ses bouches, le pauvre homme était déjà à mi-chemin du bloc. "Il avait l'air assez gentil.", Giko a commenté que le mouette-menace à sang chaud a été emporté par une marée d'oiseaux. Elle a redescendu pour arracher un autre beignet du sac, seulement pour se rendre compte qu'il avait été volé dans la confusion... l'un des goélands, probablement. Giko a essuyé son visage sur sa manche et massé ses oreilles alors qu'elle regardait en arrière vers Claribel. "Alors c'est un cadran, hein? La technologie de nos jours est vraiment quelque chose. Je préférerais avoir quelque chose de moins... un peu fort. Quoi qu'il en soit, Giko a continué, en passant ses mains dans les cheveux de Claribel, "- Alors, qu'est-ce que tu utilises pour tes cheveux, de toute façon? C'est si soyeux! Es-tu un rose naturel?"

Name: Giko G. Gearbox Age: Claims to be 19 Gender: Claims to be female Race: Claims to be human Height and Weight: Claims to be 165 cm. Refuses to give a weight. Bounty: 0 Beli Personality: Absolutely insistent on staying in-character as a teenage girl and will refuse to acknowledge anything that conflicts with this. Giko's character is that of a gutsy, cheerful girl in her late teens. She tends to brush off insults to herself as a matter of course, but can't tolerate ones aimed at her friends. History: A mysterious middle-aged man who operates a life-size teenage girl puppet, he refuses to acknowledge his own existence, instead insisting that he is an ordinary 19-year-old girl named Giko, who states that her goal is to find her father, apparently a famous dollmaker who left on a journey to the Black Drum Kingdom and never returned. Her other motivation seems to be loneliness, as she has resolved to make a friend on every island of the Grand Line. Things haven't been working out very well on the latter; people seem like they'd rather call her "pervert" and "old man", but she's sure that'll change once she reaches the Grand Line proper. Abilities: Master Puppeteer - Giko's operator is a ridiculously skilled puppeteer and ventriloquist capable of operating Giko in a lifelike manner resembling a teenage girl. If it wasn't for the creepy guy sticking his hand up the back of her shirt, you'd hardly know the difference. Craftsman - Giko's operator seems to have a high level of engineering skill, considering that he apparently built Giko and is capable of repairing her from scrap material. Techniques: Giko Punch: Giko can fire her fist via a large spring embedded in her forearm. It's then reeled back in using a cable that connects the fist and stump. Giko Hurricane: Giko's mouth contains a small breath dial filled with corrosive gas, which can be used to eat through metal. Giko Mortar: A small, sturdy mortar capable of firing explosive shells, located in Giko's left leg. Traits: Inventory: Life-sized teenage girl puppet named Giko with a number of concealed weapons.

Le directeur a regardé les agents avec une curiosité cachée. Ils étaient tous soit calmes, soit engagés dans des bavardages sans esprit pour passer le temps. Le directeur sourit alors qu'il regardait les dossiers qui étaient sur son bureau. "Jacob Huntington? C'est l'arrière-plan de la collection de gens ici. Mais encore quelqu'un à surveiller. Maître, ce qui est arrivé à la dernière cargaison d'armes expérimentales. Des fusils binaires? Est-ce qu'il y avait un nom?" Le conseiller regarda son PDA et soupira. "Je suis désolé de signaler monsieur, mais ils sont actuellement entre les mains des rebelles, ils ont embusqué les navires de livraison et volé la cargaison." Le directeur a claqué son poing sur la table pour faire sauter le conseiller. "Mon Dieu! Ces rebelles volent tout ce que j'essaie de faire livrer! Peu importe. Une première mission parfaite pour nos nouvelles recrues, mais d'abord l'entraînement. Puis la mission brief." En appuyant sur un bouton sur son bureau une voix de femme a parlé à travers le grand hall, la voix avait une teinte robotique dans la façon dont elle parlait alors qu'elle s'adressait aux Agents dans le grand hall, qui était maintenant devenu calme. « Bienvenue, vous êtes l'un des 49 militaires d'élite qui ont été choisis pour le nouveau projet Freelancer. Nous espérons que vous vous êtes mis à l'aise pour écouter cet enregistrement car vous aurez besoin d'écouter très attentivement. Vous ne serez plus connu par vos noms civils, au lieu de cela vous serez adressé par vos nouveaux noms de code. Ce qui aura déjà été assigné. Cela doit être utilisé à tout moment c'est pour votre sécurité! Avant d'entrer dans le combat en direct, vous serez connecté avec diverses améliorations de blindage et une AI extrêmement précieuse. Cette AI est adaptée à vous et vous aidera à utiliser vos nouvelles capacités de manière sûre et efficace. Travailler ensemble est crucial pour compléter votre objectif et marquer haut dans les classements. Les chefs de file suivent vos progrès personnels tout au long de vos missions. Peu importe où vous êtes sur le classement, vous ne serez pas traité différemment, ces classements sont pour les administrateurs et les conseils d'administration, alors ne vous inquiétez pas pour eux. Il y a quelques règles à suivre : Les IA ne doivent pas communiquer entre elles. Aucun contact avec l'extérieur n'est autorisé par n'importe quel mode de communication. L'utilisation d'armes ou de capacités réelles est interdite à l'intérieur d'une zone d'entraînement ou en mission. Obéissez aux ordres du directeur ou du conseiller. Merci de votre patience, le Directeur va maintenant vous adresser une allocution". La voix des réalisateurs a suivi celle de la femme après une courte pause, il avait fait son chemin jusqu'à la scène centrale pendant la présentation. "Bonjour, agents. Pour évaluer qui va être implanté avec ce qu'A.I. Nous commencerons ce matin par une ronde de sparring. Nous évaluerons la façon dont vous combattez et agissez individuellement et ensemble. Vos adversaires seront des robots de grade militaire avec l'A.I. militaire. Vous serez surnommés deux à un, alors prenez cela en compte. Veuillez vous diriger maintenant vers l'établissement de formation. » L'installation d'entraînement en question était une grande salle remplie d'un environnement de combat de simulation fait pour ressembler à un village abandonné. Tous les agents seraient en mesure d'utiliser en direct, mais leurs capacités d'armure seraient désactivées. Leurs adversaires se tiennent de l'autre côté de la pièce, des costumes noirs d'armure armés de balles de simulation qui font un sacré coup de poing mais ne sont pas mortels. Washington a été le premier à regarder la situation qu'il a grimacée. "Homme, les robots frappent comme des boxeurs lourds et prennent autant de punition qu'un char. Ce n'est pas juste." Une fois que tous les agents étaient dans un klaxon bourdonnant signalant le début de l'exercice. Les robots ont sauté à la vie prenant position défensive et jetant des grenades fumigènes devant eux pour couvrir leur avance et l'Avance ils l'ont fait. Lentement aller de l'avant se prépare à engager celui qui s'est approché. Washington a regardé les autres agents. "Hey les gars et les filles s'appellent Washington, ces robots vont être une salope à abattre. On dit qu'ils vont continuer, même si tu frappes de leur tête. Ils peuvent prendre des informations d'autres robots pour voir si on vous voit tous vous voir. Ce n'est pas mon premier rodéo avec ces salauds. J'ai été coincé dans un simulateur d'entraînement avec deux d'entre eux, ils m'ont bien battu. Alors ne te fais pas prendre et si tu dois les frapper alors frappe-les aussi fort que tu peux! À part ça... Washington a tiré l'épingle sur une grenade. "Amusez-vous bien!" Il s'était caché au-dessus du mur, derrière lui, et a jeté la grenade dans la foule de machines. Ils ont sauté loin de la grenade et Washington était là pour les rencontrer en tirant un dans le bras avec son AR, il a été rencontré avec un coup de poing à l'intestin l'envoyant voler au-dessus d'un mur. "Fils de pute!" En montant son arme, il a laissé quelques rafales dans le bot le plus proche, le faisant tomber avant d'être frappé par un autre robot sur son épaule gauche. Je l'ai frappé.

Name: Jacobs Huntington Codename: Washington Age: 27 Gender: Male Armour Ability: Teleportation Implanted A.I.: Epsilon - Increases awareness and heightened senses by increasing the amount of stimulus the brain can take. Epsilon yearns for knowledge and will cause his implanty to become more studious. Appearance: Personality: Jacobs is an optimistic guy who always sees the funny side of a dangerous situation. He hates being wrong and doesn't appreciate being corrected (Even when he is wrong). Jacobs can be very cocky and overestimate an opponent, situation or even his own skills. Taking on tasks that are far too difficult for him alone, he can be very stubborn and will not admit when he needs help or even ask for it. Even with all this he keeps his head and always thinks about the objective and how to achieve it. History: Jacobs had an ordinary childhood, nothing truly special. Brought up on military drills and weapon stripping he has known nothing but UNSC and the pride he would bring his family fighting for the UNSC. His family were quick to distrust the Elites joining humanities caused and this xenophobia rubbed off on Jacobs. Once he was of age he was shipped straight off to the nearest UNCS barracks to begin his training. Fast forward several years and Jacobs found himself fighting an innumerable foe know as the flood and in charge of his own six man squad. Called the greatest threat to the galaxy Jacobs fully understood why. During one particular battle in which Jacobs and five other men had to protect and hold a comms array Jacobs finally saw the elite in a positive light. During the fighting Jacobs lost all of his men too the monstrous creatures with his back against the wall he saw his fellow soldiers rise up and turn on him. Seeing no way out he pulled the pin on a grenade and held it to what was left of his helmet. Before he could finish himself the Elite reinforcements arrived in a rain of plasma fire. Throwing the grenade into the horde he watched as the Elite forces swept through the sea of flood systematically slaughtering this great threat. With the threat eliminated Jacobs thanked the Elites for their help. A few months later he was put forward for the Freelancer Project. Weapon loadout: MA2B Assault Rifle with built in bayonet. M319 Individual Grenade Launcher. M6H Pistol. Combat Knife. x3 Fragmentation Grenade. x2 Flash Grenades Grenades. Fighting Style: Jacobs fights up close and personal using his personalised Assault rifle mixed with his large variety of martial arts.

Maine a écouté attentivement les instructions, en regardant son costume pigiste vert foncé. Il avait enlevé la couverture de brosse dessus pour un look plus élégant, vu qu'ils allaient faire de l'entraînement aujourd'hui. Il n'y avait pas d'arbustes pour vraiment se fondre dans. Il a nettoyé son fusil, balayé les autres freelances. Ils étaient les meilleurs des meilleurs d'accord, certains plus que d'autres, de toutes les formes et de toutes les tailles. Il n'avait pas à s'inquiéter de les prendre sur elle semble, juste calculé l'IA. Ils avaient un algorithme et une façon systématique de faire les choses, mais il ne savait pas à quel point ces IA étaient bonnes. Il laissait les canons, ou ses coéquipiers, régler ça. Comme il a obtenu ses améliorations d'armure, bien que désactivé, une AI a été programmé en lui alors qu'il a vu une figure verte se matérialiser sur son épaule. "Bonjour. Je suis Delta, votre AI." "Oh, pour que tu puisses parler?" Je pense à haute voix dans ma tête, en regardant l'hologramme. "Oui, je peux parler à l'agent Maine. Je suis l'IA conçue pour la logique. Je vous donnerai des commentaires de combat pour prendre les meilleures décisions logiques sur le champ de bataille afin d'assurer le succès et la survie de la mission. » "Oh. On dirait mon genre d'IA. Alors, est-ce que tu vas juste être dans mes pensées pour toujours comme ça?" "Non, je suis ici pour quand vous avez besoin de moi agent Maine, principalement dans le combat et toute autre situation critique. Si vous le souhaitez, je peux également donner des conseils. » "Très bien, merci Delta. Montons dans la salle d'entraînement et évaluons ces robots. Ils disent que le classement ne veut rien dire, mais peu importe qu'il serait probablement efficace d'être près du sommet. » "C'est une hypothèse logique." -- C'est donc vrai? "Je ne suis pas sûr, mais j'ai dit que c'était une hypothèse logique." "Est-ce qu'ils t'ont programmé avec du sarcasme?" "Pas intentionnellement." Maine s'installa près de l'arrière de l'arène, posant et ajustant son fusil anti-matériel alors qu'il entrait dans les robots. Ils semblaient assez résilients, et il y aurait 98 il semblait. D'après ce que Washington nous disait, les coups de tête ne les tueraient pas, donc on dirait que le haut de la poitrine ferait le tour avec le tireur. Un peu d'information utile. Une fois la bataille commencée, des grenades fumigènes ont été envoyées immédiatement alors que les robots chargés vers l'avant sous couverture. Maine regarda à travers sa portée, incapable de voir à travers la fumée que sa vision tactique était désactivée. "Maintenant où sont-ils..." « La majorité des agents s'engageront probablement dans le CQC, en maintenant l'attention de l'IA. Puisqu'ils relayent des informations instantanément, vous serez en mesure de tirer deux rondes avant que votre emplacement soit identifié. Je suggère de bouger la position après votre deuxième coup et de répéter le processus pendant que les autres tiennent la ligne de front. S'ils envahissent la ligne arrière, utilisez votre écran de fumée comme couverture et regroupez-vous comme pour ne pas être encerclé." Delta a annoncé que le Maine cligne plusieurs fois. "Wow, tu es bon." Maine a dit stupéfait, se demandant d'où ils ont eu ces AI. "Focus sur les cibles faisant des progrès dans les lignes arrière et tout autre tireur d'élite ennemi soutenant de longue portée. J'ai étalonné votre ordinateur dans votre sniper dans mon système, et je calculerai chaque tir automatiquement pour vous. Quand vous prendrez votre chance, j'augmenterai votre adrénaline et vos réflexes et ralentirai le rythme cardiaque et la respiration pour un coup plus précis. » "Affirmatif." Maine chuchotait, prenant lentement tout ça. Bien que le contrôle de ces aspects de son corps et de son arme soit un peu inébranlable, l'IA semblait savoir ce qu'il faisait. La fumée s'évanouissait alors qu'une seule IA semblait essayer d'éclater de la ligne initiale, voûtant et essayant de frapper un collègue freelance. Il était presque trop rapide, mais le temps semblait ralentir légèrement car il était capable d'aligner le tir et le feu, comme il était au ralenti, mais il se déplaçait à une vitesse normale. Une rafale du fusil a été abattue par la muselière alors que la fine balle s'est glissée dans l'air à la vitesse de la foudre. Il s'est arraché à travers le robot, soufflant un énorme trou dans sa poitrine avec sa tête tombant alors qu'il s'est écroulé au sol. La balle a même traversé le robot, perçant un ou deux autres à travers le bras et s'imbudant à l'arrière de l'arène. Un petit sourire apparut sur les lèvres du Maine alors qu'il reprit son fusil, en ramenant une autre cible. Ça allait rendre les tirs bien plus amusants. "Alors, tu as dit que j'avais encore un coup à droite?" "Oui, je vous l'ai dit plus tôt, agent Maine." "Soupir... juste, peu importe."

Full name: James Lockhart "Iceman" Code name: Maine Gender: Male Age: 23 Implanted A.I.: Delta - Logic - Green. Delta grants Iceman better reasoning skills, able to "slow down time" essentially in his head to make the most logical, optimal, and efficient choices. Side effects include lacking sympathy or empathy, logic taking over emotion. Armour Ability: Tactical vision Appearance: Personality: James suits his A.I. well, as he is more of a man of logic and reasoning than anything else. He makes friendships because they are beneficial, not because he particularly enjoys people. It's not like he's a complete asshole or anything, but if you need something from him and it's not in his best interest and won't benefit him, he won't do it. He won't save you in a fight unless you're worth saving, but on the flip side he won't kill you unless he feels it's necessary. Granted this may make his morale scale a little out of whack, he's not some axe murderer either. He's cold, cunning, calculating, out for himself and only himself. And in battle, he always is level headed and has been known to think and be one step ahead. This is why he is the Iceman. History: James never knew his parents, or any parents for that matter. His biological ones put him up for adoption because they were too poor, casting him out to an orphanage. It was in a rough city, so as you could imagine, bullying and the more than occasional beatings were in order. Food was spread thin, you had a room like a jail sell, and it was a miracle if somebody smuggled a toy in. In a world like this you only looked after yourself, and it was survival of the fittest every day. Kids did die in that place, and only the lucky ever got adopted. James wasn't so lucky. Instead, he made his own luck. Through his life and going into his teen years, James would sneak out of the orphanage and steal from people and stores outside the city, getting whatever he could. Cards, toys, food and water, money, cigarettes. Anything of value. It took a while, and some close calls, but James got handy at climbing rooftops, sneaking down alleys, stealing, pick pocketing, conning. Running away and hiding. And occasionally getting beat up too. Shot once or twice. When he did get the items however, he bartered inside the orphanage, traded, gambled. Sometimes he would make alliances with other kids that would mutually benefit them. After playing the game for a while, James lived more comfortably than most, and was well known in and out of the orphanage. Then he turned 18. Knowing that he barely had schooling and no money, the best option for him was to join the military. After passing the physical exams with flying colors, he was enlisted in the UNSC as a sniper. He was the top marksman in his class, and with a rifle he could shoot a dime off a clothespin. After many successful missions, he was promoted to ODST, where he would drop either in small squads for tactical missions or solo for recon and assassination missions. The mission before he was recruited to a freelancer project, he was set on a mission leading a squad of four to do reconnaissance on a small outpost. It was a normal mission, and usually one of the less eventful ones, but the ODST was sent because there were rumors of the flood overtaking the now abandoned outpost. Well, it wasn't abandoned. After a sweep of the place, the squad was suddenly ambushed. Not by the flood however... it was the covenant. Five ships had surrounded the outpost and elites swarmed into the place. It was a trap. The group fled to loading dock to try to get to the ship before they were gunned down, except James refused to go with them and climbed up to the top of the rafters. He knew that the covenant would have already destroyed and looted their ship, and it was fruitless to try and get to it before hand. The squad had managed two fight through two ships worth, but full frontal assault on them was suicide. Watching his team die in front of him, he tried to figure a way out. After waiting several hours, he waited until the covenant were about to leave before making his move. After dispatching a few elite on one of the smaller ships, he piloted it in an attempt to escape. However, the other ships closed onto him, and he crash landed on an nearby planet with only minor injuries and fled the wreckage. Covenant ships touched down as the remaining crew was out for revenge. Holed up atop a cliff face outlooking the area, and with his rifle along with the rest of his gear, he managed to not only hold off the covenant, but killed them all, before taking one of their ships and fleeing safely. It wasn't an army by any means, there only being the two small ships worth of elites. It took a lot of stealth work, timing, planning, and chance... but it worked. Luck might have played a deciding role in this, but Iceman never believed in luck. He made his own. This is when he joined the Freelancer project, where he was assigned the name of a state that was just cold enough for the Iceman. Maine. Weapon Loadout: Model 99 Special Application Scoped Rifle, modified with a silencer, enhanced variable zoom, extended magazine, and a tri-pod. DMR with a grip, stock, silencer, and selective fire for fully automatic, three round burst, or single shot. Modified to reduce recoil. Black painted Bowie knife 2x frag grenades 2x smoke grenades Fighting Style: If you haven't already noticed from the bio, if you have read it or not, or simply looked at the weapons, you can tell Maine is particularly into long range engagements. He is quite confident in his sniping ability and he can handle most targets in that range, and likes to stay at that range. His field optics allow him to see mostly anything on the battlefield, even through walls (which his handy sniper can shoot through) as well as predict movements to more precisely hit his shots. A marksman through and through, he likes keeping his enemy at a distance. Bullets are very deadly and are good at killing people, hulk smashing somebody or going Bruce Lee on them is just stupid. He wants to be as far away as possible and shoot you before you even know he existed within a 5 km radius. However, this obviously isn't the case always. Overall he invests in a stealth first approach almost always, going into a situation with a plan and trying to outsmart and out strategize the opponent. If the engagement happens to get close, he resorts to the fully automatic DMR, and if too close and a built stealthier, the knife. In hand to hand combat he is average at best, as he doesn't do it a whole lot. However in this situation he would usually rely on cunning, such as getting the first blow in a sneak attack, somehow gaining an advantage, calculating the opponent's moves and looking for a clear cut opportunity. But through and through, in a fisticuffs match versus someone trained in hand to hand more than him or physically stronger than he, he is not going to be winning very easily. In fact, the best course of action against big scary people trying to, I don't know, stab him or beat him up might be running occasionally. Pick your battles, you know?

La Californie se tenait près du côté du groupe, bras replié alors qu'il écoutait avec empressement les instructions du conseiller et du directeur. Enfin, l'occasion est venue de prouver sa force et ses prouesses de combat dans le cadre du programme Freelancer. Pour écraser des boîtes de conserve, ça a l'air amusant. Comme de plus en plus de détails pour l'exercice ont été donnés, le sourire plus large et plus large d'Arthur a obtenu sous son casque de classe soldat. Arthur regarda autour de lui en voyant les autres agents se préparer après la fin des instructions. Il se tourna vers ses armes, qu'il prit glorieusement pour vérifier sa fierté et sa joie, "La Réponse" variante SAW. Il l'avait peint lui-même, un crâne avec sa bouche ouverte au canon, avec le reste peint noir avec divers termes et symboles calomnieux. Il s'en foutait de la censure. C'est alors que sa propre AI a établi un premier contact avec lui. "Salut!" Une voix féminine énergique a dit. "Yo!" Arthur répondit dans sa tête avec autant d'enthousiasme. "T'es le truc de l'IA?" "Ouais! Je suis prêt au combat, Californie!" "Très bien! Je ne connais pas ton nom. Mais vous connaissez déjà le mien." Il répondit curieusement. "Oh! Fais-moi chier! Je suis Chi. Si le directeur décide, je serai votre AI permanente." "Néanmoins, je n'ai jamais eu une voix permanente dans ma tête..." a-t-il commenté. Une fois que tout le monde était prêt, l'exercice a commencé et les robots de combat ont été libérés. Le gars qui semblait avoir eu de l'expérience a donné un discours de pep ou quelque chose avant d'engager les ennemis. Il semblait être dans un endroit, alors la Californie a décidé d'aider Washington. Il se dirigea vers l'autre freelance et pulvérisa ses cartouches explosives dans la fumée et la foule de robots. "Vous venez sur l'agent, Californie! Un autre allié est de fournir le feu de sniper pour l'agent." Chi a conseillé comme elle a reconnu que l'accent d'Arthur était sur la tentative de vider son premier clip de rondes. La Californie a reconnu l'appel, et a donné un pouce au tireur d'élite apparemment qualifié. Un autre robot est sorti de la fumée, essayant d'engager Arthur. "Pousse-toi!" Chi a appelé dans sa tête. Arthur s'est conformé, à peine esquivant un solide coup de poing sur le casque. Leur armure de tête n'est pas aussi forte que les autres. Enlevez-le!" -- Oui! Il a dit. La Californie a filé environ 180 degrés, avant d'étendre son bras à la ligne de vêtements de la boîte de métal, décapitant la tête à travers le cou. "Continuez à attaquer! Pas encore à terre!" Cali a frappé le canon de La Réponse dans la poitrine et complètement enterré les cinq dernières rondes de son magazine de tambour dans l'estomac du robot. Il a rasé le tas de ferraille avant de regarder l'autre agent qu'il avait initialement pris pour aider, le soulevant par l'épaule. "Ça va?"

Full name: Arthur Jones Code name: California Gender: Male Age: 22 Implanted A.I.: Chi- Excitement= Increases adrenaline, reflexes and speed during combat situations. Causes the user to become more aggressive and charge head first into combat. Armour Ability: Disruption Personality: California has two sides. Out of combat, Arthur is a friendly face around the quarters, who greatly enjoys conversation and very hospitable to the other team members. However, on the field, California becomes a force of destruction, always looking for the "Scorched Earth" option, much preferring blasting his way through the front door than stealth operations. He greatly enjoys training in all physical manners, and loves to practice hand to hand combat, wanting to prove that he is the strongest without any kind of boosters. He loves to ensue chaos amongst the enemy ranks, sending them into disarray as he rips and tears through them. However, his greatest passion is vehicles. He is a vehicle specialist and can pilot almost anything from warthogs, scorpions to hornets too. However, if he can dispose of it, it is most likely that you will find him soaring into the enemy base, surfing a mongoose as he fires blindly into the enemies, roaring triumphantly. History: The Bear used to be a mercenary, shooting for the highest bidder and asking questions later. He was captured by UNSC forces at 17 after a mission gone wrong, and his contractor hired him to steal from a UNSC supply depot. He was caught carrying out ammo cache's with one of his cohorts. After being arrested, the Bear was kept for a year before a deal was struck. Volunteer for the Freelancer Programme or be sentenced to death for crimes against the UNSC and carrying out mercenary military contracts. The choice was obvious. Arthur accelerated at all physical exercises, especially strength focused ones. As boots on the grounds go, Arthur was one of the best. However, his reckless behaviour from being a mercenary carried through, and in simulations, heading straight first into danger was his only plan of attack, much like an ODST drop pod. Sooner or later, the idea of stealth and tactics (as well as a respect for authority) was hammered into him somewhat, and through that, he got pretty handy with a combat knife. He also became extremely proficient in heavy weaponry, learning the ins and outs of weapons like Spartan Lasers, chainguns, Hydra Lauchers, Railguns and his favourite, the SAW. However, while also in the training simulations, Arthur found a knack for vehicles, and outside of simulations he was also seen in the vehicle bays, looking over every intricate part. Right now, his pride and joy is the "Chariot Of Fire". A custom Rocket Hog that he is working on, wanting to make it the fastest, most destructive warthog out there. California is now a true Spartan, and his recklessness only ever comes to play when his teammates are in danger. He will follow orders with maximum efficiency and brutality. When you need siege, demolition and pure strength to punch through, the Bear is your call. Weapon Loadout: Advanced SAW with lower fire rate but projectiles have a proximity-fused high explosive warhead. Commonly known as "The Answer". Custom Paintjob. Secondary weapon is a Sentinel class DMR with sentinel sight and silencer. Also carries a combat knife for CQB and stealth skills. He also has two M9 grenades and selects breaching explosives accordingly for missions. Fighting Style: "CHAAAAAAAAAAAARGE!!!"- California's fighting style leaves a lot to be desired in terms of finesse. His love of heavy duty equipment such as heavy weapons and vehicles ensures brutal punishment to the enemy, either relentlessly sieging from afar or tearing through a corridor with a spray of rounds from "The Answer." One thing Arthur isn't is quiet. Well, he prefers not to be. He is capable of stealth but it is not his go to method. In close combat, Arthur deploys a boxing/wrestling approach, involving a lot of heavy strikes and grapples.

Montana écoutait à moitié les instructions. Tout ce qui l'intéressait, c'était quand ils brisaient des os. Il n'avait pas besoin d'attendre longtemps qu'on leur ait dit qu'ils allaient contre des robots militaires. Il soupirait dans son casque, un peu déçu qu'ils n'étaient pas de vrais soldats à tester, mais il allait devoir le faire. L'une des autres recrues, Washington, s'est présentée brièvement en donnant des informations sur les robots avant que tout l'enfer semble s'être détaché. Il a ri à Washington peu de temps après avoir été envoyé en avion par l'un des robots. "Allez, vous ne pouvez pas prendre un coup?" Il a dit à son camarade tombé qu'il réaliserait avec le recul qu'il était stupide comme l'une des autres unités claqué leur poing dans sa poitrine l'ayant dérapé à travers le sol et frappé l'une des barrières. « Je le reprends », gémit-il en se levant et en se mettant à zéro sur le robot qui l'avait frappé."D'accord, voyons combien de vis et de robots vous tiennent ensemble." Il a sorti son fusil et a couru vers l'avant en direction de la tête, il a fait sauter la tête des robots. Il a concentré son attention sur un autre robot, essayant la même chose, mais il a esquivé et l'a balayé des pieds avec ses jambes."C'est bien qu'ils apprennent, qu'ils se souviennent de ça." Il a frappé le sol avec son poing dans la frustration alors qu'il s'est levé en vivant une légère bosse dans le sol ", Eh bien je voulais un combat, devine que j'en ai un maintenant."

Full name: Zeke Code name: Montana Gender: Male Age: 31 Implanted A.I.: Omega - Increases hand to hand and weapon handling skill. Increases aggression in the user. Armour Ability: Super Strength Appearance (Armor): Apperance (Out of Armor): Still looking... Personality: Zeke is a hard-ass type of guy, it doesn't necessarily means he doesn't have a sense of humor but most of the time he is straight to the point and doesn't sugar coat things. If things look bad, he is going to be the guy to admit that shit is about to hit the fan and not everyone is going to make it rather then try and be optimistic. Yet despite his hard nature, he enjoys poking his comrade's buttons and has a sense of humor that lies under the hard exterior, though whether or not that sense of humor is safe for his comrades is harder to answer, he has been known to let a live flash grenade loose in their rooms to see how fast they can scramble away from it before it goes off. He doesn't understand why he is the only one who finds it funny. XD History: Hard to imagine a dropout could find his way to the freelancer program. He dropout of college sick and tired of the grind and joined the UNSC despite his parents protests, figuring he would want more out of life then being a 'dumb grunt' described by his father. He gave them the bird and out the door he went to start a new life as a soldier. It was no cakewalk though and at first Zeke barely scraped by to make it even into the army but he wanted to prove to everyone that he was more then just some dumb grunt and kept pushing himself, trying to be the best of the best. He was eventually moved over to work in an ODST unit, though his hopes of serving on Reach when the covenant attacked never came true, he still saw his fare share of battles within his unit where he soon got know for being a hardcase with his superiors. He got the job done for the most part but there were complaints of disobeying directives and reckless endangerment though no one was ever killed. Perhaps this was what eventually got the attention of those who ran the freelancer program. His dedication to get the job done by any means necessary would be considered a valuable assist to the program for those missions that were balls to the walls so to speak. So now there he was a Freelancer, after ten years of working to show the people at home he was more then a grunt, he stood at the top with some of the best of the best, now he just tries to show he can be even better then them while playing the practical joke here and there that may or may not threaten the safety of those around him. Weapon Loadout: -M45D Tactical Shotgun aka "Scorn" as Zeke likes to call it, it's his pride and joy so to speak, been with him since day one and if anyone else besides him touches it, well they are going to see how hard he can hit before they can say 'sorry'. -MA5D Individual Combat Weapon System -M6H Personal Defense Weapon System -x2 Frag Fighting Style: Up close and personal. He's built like a tank, takes a licking but keeps on ticking so to speak. (He's like the Kool-Aid man but on steroids. XD) He doesn't use a knife though when he gets up close, instead he likes to duke it out with his fists when bullets just don't cut it. Theme Song (because why the heck not): Other: N/A

La tête de Washington tournait dans son casque. Il s'est retiré du sol et a pris son fusil qui s'était posé à côté de lui. "Ça fait vraiment mal!" En vérifiant son compte de munitions, il a dépoussiéré son armure. "Faisons du rock et du roll bébé!" Charger vers l'avant, il a lâché avec une volée de balles dans ses ennemis robotiques. Il l'a tiré sur le premier robot qu'il a croisé. Il s'est collé à son torse, ne lui donnant pas le temps de réagir, il est retourné à son fusil et l'a poignardé dans le dos et chargé dans un groupe de robots. L'un a eu un coup de pied sur lui desserrant son emprise sur le robot la lame dans son dos glisser dehors et l'envoyer voler au-dessus d'un mur. Il a sorti le détonateur qu'il a souri. "Scrap metal c'est alors les gars." En appuyant sur le détonateur, le robot coincé a explosé. En raison de l'acharnement des robots, les dégâts ont explosé deux fois les deux autres membres du groupe qui l'ont attaqué manquaient d'un bras ou d'une tête, mais étaient relativement intacts. Ils répondirent à son attaque en l'approchant de derrière le mur et le ramassant du sol par le cou. "Oh allez, tu es encore pire que la dernière fois! Un peu d'aide, les gars?"

Name: Jacobs Huntington Codename: Washington Age: 27 Gender: Male Armour Ability: Teleportation Implanted A.I.: Epsilon - Increases awareness and heightened senses by increasing the amount of stimulus the brain can take. Epsilon yearns for knowledge and will cause his implanty to become more studious. Appearance: Personality: Jacobs is an optimistic guy who always sees the funny side of a dangerous situation. He hates being wrong and doesn't appreciate being corrected (Even when he is wrong). Jacobs can be very cocky and overestimate an opponent, situation or even his own skills. Taking on tasks that are far too difficult for him alone, he can be very stubborn and will not admit when he needs help or even ask for it. Even with all this he keeps his head and always thinks about the objective and how to achieve it. History: Jacobs had an ordinary childhood, nothing truly special. Brought up on military drills and weapon stripping he has known nothing but UNSC and the pride he would bring his family fighting for the UNSC. His family were quick to distrust the Elites joining humanities caused and this xenophobia rubbed off on Jacobs. Once he was of age he was shipped straight off to the nearest UNCS barracks to begin his training. Fast forward several years and Jacobs found himself fighting an innumerable foe know as the flood and in charge of his own six man squad. Called the greatest threat to the galaxy Jacobs fully understood why. During one particular battle in which Jacobs and five other men had to protect and hold a comms array Jacobs finally saw the elite in a positive light. During the fighting Jacobs lost all of his men too the monstrous creatures with his back against the wall he saw his fellow soldiers rise up and turn on him. Seeing no way out he pulled the pin on a grenade and held it to what was left of his helmet. Before he could finish himself the Elite reinforcements arrived in a rain of plasma fire. Throwing the grenade into the horde he watched as the Elite forces swept through the sea of flood systematically slaughtering this great threat. With the threat eliminated Jacobs thanked the Elites for their help. A few months later he was put forward for the Freelancer Project. Weapon loadout: MA2B Assault Rifle with built in bayonet. M319 Individual Grenade Launcher. M6H Pistol. Combat Knife. x3 Fragmentation Grenade. x2 Flash Grenades Grenades. Fighting Style: Jacobs fights up close and personal using his personalised Assault rifle mixed with his large variety of martial arts.

L'Ohio était assise sur un banc à moitié polissant son casque, elle n'avait pas besoin d'écouter les instructions, elle avait vu quelque chose comme ça plusieurs fois. Le problème, c'est qu'elle a sucé ces petits exercices, quelque chose à propos de tuer des gens et même des extraterrestres était tellement plus facile. Sans parler de son HSR était à peu près inutile contre la matière non organique, elle pouvait effectivement détruire leurs communications et la radiodiffusion par ondes radio, ce qui éliminait la plupart des machines sans l'IA à bord, mais ils n'avaient pas de cerveau à liquéfier. Liquefy étant le mauvais mot, mais c'était assez proche et l'Ohio n'était pas particulièrement intéressé par la façon dont ça fonctionnait. L'Ohio fronçait un peu alors que son AI se projetait sur son épaule, Gamma, elle ne l'aimait pas beaucoup et même s'il n'était qu'un code informatique, elle sentait que le sentiment était réciproque. À part qu'ils étaient un bon match, ils ont probablement été choisis parce que le réalisateur savait qu'ils ne s'entendraient pas bien. Gamma était un menteur et un traître avec beaucoup de potentiel de mal, la plupart des gens ne seraient pas en mesure de voir cela surtout parce que Gamma était encore si jeune et avait montré si peu de sa 'personnalité'. Il en a vraiment fallu un pour en connaître un. L'Ohio avait aussi le soi-disant « avantage » d'avoir fait implanter son IA quelques jours plus tôt que la plupart, certains n'ayant même pas encore d'IA. Elle soupçonnait que cela avait à voir avec la capacité de son AI, une sorte de boucle temporelle qui la laissait essayer encore et encore jusqu'à ce qu'elle ait eu raison. Ou dans un cas récent, jusqu'à ce qu'elle survive. Puisque son AI commencerait automatiquement une boucle si elle était mortellement blessée. L'Ohio était presque sûr que ce qu'elle avait vécu était la raison pour laquelle les choses ne sont censées mourir qu'une seule fois. C'était vraiment le truc des cauchemars, aussi horrible que ça l'avait été au moins, elle n'en faisait pas face pour la première fois maintenant. En dehors de cela, il a vraiment ruiné l'idée de religion organisée pour elle parce que si elle avait vécu la mort réelle, alors ils étaient tous totalement hilarants. "Agent Ohio, nous commençons une mission d'entraînement bientôt êtes-vous prêt?" Sa voix était comme ces vieux robots, avant qu'ils ne comprennent comment les faire fonctionner mieux. Choppy, raide, sans émotion. -- Ai-je l'air prêt? Elle s'est cognée, a mis son casque et l'a scellé. "J'ai toute confiance en toi. Les chances de fatalité sont conçues pour être très faibles, pas de boucles de mort." "Gamma, ne me mens pas, on vient de se rencontrer. Vous me faites confiance autant que vous pouvez me jeter, et vous êtes littéralement un hologramme pour nous mettre à la case 0. Ou comme négatif. C'est tout à fait juste, j'étais un peu une bite hier. Mourir un groupe me met de mauvaise humeur." Elle soupira et commença à vérifier ses armes à main. Les autres commençaient à déménager. "Oui, c'était assez apparent après la chaîne d'expletives que vous avez dirigé sur les administrateurs." "S'ils réessayent sans me le dire, et je ne le ferai pas en boucle temporelle. Il s'agira d'un meurtre à 100 % biologique, sans gluten." L'Ohio murmura alors qu'elle regardait attentivement ses nouveaux coéquipiers se mettre au travail. "Agent Ohio, excusez-moi, mais maintenant c'est vous qui mentez. Le meurtre n'est pas non plus une nourriture, donc il ne peut pas avoir ou être exempt de gluten." Sa forme bleue scintille, juste à sec comme sa voix L'Ohio a roulé les yeux, "Ok, oui, mais c'est un fantasme de vengeance. Les humains les aiment, les ont tout le temps et s'ils vous disent qu'ils ne sont pas un putain de menteur. Tout le monde a voulu revenir à quelqu'un à un moment donné, le monde n'est pas plein de Gandhis et Martin Luther Kings, c'est beaucoup de gens normaux avec beaucoup de défauts normaux. Il suffit d'ignorer le morceau de gluten, je ne pense pas que vous allez avoir la blague." Elle était debout maintenant, à la recherche de son entrée dans le combat. "Je suis désolé de ne pas savoir qui sont ces gens, mais suis-je correct de supposer qu'ils sont moralement supérieurs à l'humain moyen?" "Vraiment? Vous n'avez pas reçu de leçon d'histoire avant la guerre? Oui moralement supérieure ou autre, Christ si vous étiez humain, vous auriez pensé que cela semblait cool mais maintenant c'est juste bizarre." Ses yeux se fermaient sur des zones cibles spécifiques, "Vous savez ce qui l'oublie, je n'ai pas le temps de vous enseigner l'histoire du 20ème siècle en ce moment." Gamma a hurlé et scindé hors de la vue. Avec cela, elle s'est mise en route pour aider Washington qui avait déjà un robot à moitié étranglé. L'Ohio a soigneusement fait son chemin à travers le carnage robot. En ce sens qu'elle la réservait aussi vite qu'elle le pouvait tout en évitant d'être frappée par un des robots. Elle a chargé le robot par derrière, en enveloppant son bras autour de son cou dans une poignée serrée tout en gardant son autre main libre pour un couteau. "Ok donc Wash, je peux t'appeler Wash? Tu sais ce que je vais t'appeler Wash et tu ferais mieux de ne pas avoir de problème avec ça parce que j'essaie d'aider ton cul. Quoi qu'il en soit, écoute, grand gars là-bas," Elle a fait un geste avec le couteau en Californie, "a la bonne idée, tu dois aller chercher la tête mais si tu es comme moi, ou toi d'ailleurs, et n'est pas un ours humain, tu ne peux pas vraiment écraser leur tête de tes mains nues." Elle a crié sur les explosions et le battement du robot, essayant de la faire lâcher. "Voyez ce que les gens comme nous font Wash, c'est que nous improvisons." Elle sourit alors qu'elle plongeait son couteau entre un petit trou dans les armures du cou. « La chose intéressante est que nous les humains avons tendance à faire des choses qui sont comme les humains, c'est la façon que nous sommes obsédés par nous-mêmes. Donc beaucoup de ces fils vitaux sont dans le cou, comme la moelle épinière d'un humain. Ce qui veut dire que tout ce que tu as à faire, c'est d'amener le couteau ici et de le secouer un peu." Elle a démontré en tournant violemment et en déplaçant le couteau dans une sorte de motif aller-retour. Quelques fumées et quelques étincelles venaient de la région où son couteau avait coulé, mais le robot laissait déjà aller Go of Washington et commençait à spasmer incontrôlablement. L'Ohio a laissé aller et a donné au robot une pelle dure au sol. « Malheureusement, ce n'est pas totalement mort parce que son équivalent d'un cerveau est toujours là, mais j'ai rompu sa capacité à contrôler ses membres et la plupart des fonctions sous le cou. Maintenant, c'est juste un genre de flops autour comme un poisson. C'est un peu triste en fait." Elle a dit, se cognant la tête et regardant le robot. Ce moment de déchéance lui a presque coûté car elle a à peine esquivé un coup qui a cassé le mur qu'elle était debout devant. "Bien des points pour l'enthousiasme sur celui-là." Elle a dit avec un petit rire avant d'essayer de répéter le processus qu'elle avait utilisé sur le dernier, avec un peu plus de difficulté car ce robot n'a pas déjà attaqué quelqu'un d'autre et a pu essayer beaucoup plus difficile de la jeter.

Full name: Elizabeth Fenster Code name: Ohio Gender: Female Age: 28 Implanted A.I.: Gamma Armour Ability: Chameleon Armour Appearance: Armor: Without Armor: Elizabeth stands at just over 5 feet 6 inches and for her size has considerable strength, her build reflects this. Her hair is tied up in a tight bun when training or in the field. Personality: Like Elizabeth's armor, she is a social chameleon, changing to create her desired social dynamic. Despite her tendency to alter her behavior she is generally very confident and opinionated, she loves a good argument but tends to distort facts or change them completely. How far her lies go depends on how much she thinks she can get away with in a given situation. She indiscriminately uses people as tools, with no distinction or protection from this for familial or romantic relationships. However she is by no means ruthless about any of her maneuvers, she will use anyone but she also can enjoy their company for reasons other than their usefulness. In fact, Elizabeth is critical of that aspect of people like her, they tend to throw away or abuse anyone who isn't contributing to their ulterior motive. She sees this as narrow minded and needless limiting of her tool set, her preference to maintain a status of being well liked also turns her away from acting like others of a more manipulative personality. Like her IA Elizabeth is quite the liar and only tells the truth when it suits her, she's never failed a polygraph test (even though those are bogus) and its truly impossible to tell what she really believes and whether she is lying. She has this ability to sound completely convinced in what she is saying and is quite persuasive on top of that. Ironically, she likes to build a reputation of being honest, calling a bad situation like it is, not being afraid to stand up for whatever her current values are, giving her 'honest' opinion, this generally establishes her as a resource of honesty which she pairs with painting everyone and everything else as untrustworthy. In tandem these techniques usually give her a reasonable amount of manipulative control on others. History: Elizabeth was actually born in an affluent family, the kind that sends their kids to college to be doctors or lawyers and live long, safe, boringly wealthy lives. War be damned, this family was going to look out for itself. Elizabeth was to be no exception, attending a prestigious school with plans to enter politics. She even had internships lined up where she would be working rather high up in the Unified Earth Government, the people there saw a bright future for her. A vision she once shared but in her junior year of college, this changed. Suddenly, and to many she knew, without reason she needed to leave it all behind. Only an idiot would assume there was really no reason but whatever happened or whatever she had seen wasn't leaving her lips without a fight. Her parents were rather distraught but she did not notice this as she did not ever ask or listen to their opinion, this was the theme with most people who approached her about her choice. Something had changed and those people could feel it but they couldn't place it, she acted the same, she wasn't angry or upset but she was still different. These connections she had made though did not go completely to waste, she managed to get herself into special ops training right off the bat. As a young girl with no formal military training, those she had persuaded to get her placed did not expect things to go well, they expected her to either give up and come back or settle for something easier. Elizabeth did neither, and though the combat did come slower to her, she was much better than many had even thought she would be at theory and stealth. Over time it became clear her combat skills were decent but her prowess was in her espionage skills. Many of her special ops deployments were to investigate corruption or other allegations in a clandestine manner. A job many would abhor, the idea of ratting out fellow service members, did not bother Elizabeth at all. Her role expanded to be that of an assassin, specifically one who could infiltrate a following, eliminate the target, and supplant leadership, in order to hand over control of the situation to the UNSC. Elizabeth has seen little conflict in the actual war and her battles have been waged against other humans, a fact she is aware of and as such keeps her past role under wraps. She also keeps these secrets because many of these operations never existed and if they were to exist it would be due to her acting as free agent and not in any relation to or under orders by the UNSC. It was recently suggested to her that her talents would be useful in the Freelancer Project, she agreed and was swiftly placed into the program. To her colleges she's created the image of a gifted recon agent and guerilla fighter but there are cracks and she figures its only a matter of time that someone figures out what she really does, if they haven't already. After all she's not the smartest person there but she's the best liar. Weapon Loadout: - (x2) M6C Handgun with 2 extra clips - (x2) Standard Combat Knife - 2 smoke grenades - Hard Sound Rifle (because she loves bees) Fighting Style: Elizabeth openly lets others fight her battles, she not the strongest and she's not the biggest but she does what she can. She tends to go for guerilla tactics. Her marksmanship is good but shes no prodigy, and she often has to make her hand to hand opponents tire themselves out because she can not physically overpower them. She is extremely patient and will wait as long as she has to for her perfect shot, even if that shot is actually a stab.

Donc, il semblait que beaucoup d'idiots couraient autour du champ de bataille. Les freelancers lançaient des grenades, tiraient sur des gens, se faisaient peler par des balles non létales et se faisaient jeter autour comme des poupées en chiffon. Maine ne pouvait pas tous les aider, mais ce n'était pas la vie ou la mort non plus. D'ailleurs, il s'agissait surtout de montrer ses compétences. Un autre tir a percuté une ligne de robots, en enlevant au moins trois comme la balle à grande vitesse a percuté à travers eux comme du beurre, après avoir soigneusement calculé le tir bien sûr. Sachant que ce n'était pas sûr de rester là plus longtemps, Maine ramassa son fusil, se leva et commença à sprinter à une nouvelle position. "Il semble y avoir un choc entre vos alliés de Freelancer, à 10 heures. On dirait qu'ils pourraient vouloir une couverture de sniper." Delta s'est exprimé en indiquant où se trouvaient l'Ohio, la Californie et Washington. "D'accord, je pense que sauver des alliés pourrait me marquer des points. Ou au moins des points de brownie avec les autres. Où est un endroit sûr pour se mettre en place où je peux obtenir un bon angle?" Maine pensa dans sa tête, plongeant derrière une barrière. "20 mètres à votre droite, vous pouvez vous poser à côté de ce mur là et obtenir une bonne vue aérienne de la situation. Elle devrait également assurer une couverture décente." En s'assurant que la côte était dégagée, le principal se dirigea vers l'endroit, se couchant avec son trépied au moment où il s'installa en position. Respirant lentement, Delta a ajusté l'ordinateur sur son sniper pendant que Maine regardait à travers la portée. Il semblait que Washington ait été ramassé par un robot, avant que l'Ohio ne saute dessus et ne coince un couteau dans sa gorge. Maintenant, un robot était sur elle, un coup de poing lui manquait à peine. Maine retenait son souffle, son doigt reposant sur la gâchette alors que le réticule était aligné au centre mort de la poitrine de la chose. Juste comme il l'a vu, il a remarqué hors du coin de son champ d'application qu'un robot tenait une grenade près de la Californie et de Washington, cherchant à la jeter de là-bas. Il devrait prendre une décision... ou il le ferait? Il sentait son rythme cardiaque lent, seul le son de son battement du cœur était audible pour lui, alors qu'il laissait un souffle lent s'éteindre. Son doigt a touché la gâchette, une balle laissant le canon dirigé vers la poitrine du robot devant l'Ohio. Quelques millisecondes plus tard, le réticule a été déplacé et l'ordinateur a été réglé par Delta comme une deuxième balle arrachée dans l'air. Presque immédiatement après, la première balle s'est coupée à travers la poitrine du robot, l'explosant avec la tête qui vole sur le côté alors que ce qui en restait est tombé dans un tas. Une seconde après qu'un billet ait franchi de près Washington et la Californie, passant par la grenade que le deuxième robot allait lancer. Il a explosé dans son visage, soufflant sa tête, son bras, et une partie de son corps comme il a été propulsé vers l'arrière et sur son cul. "Bon travail Delta." Il sourit, fumant le curling du silencieux du sniper semi-automatique, tandis que Delta se retournait sur son épaule. "En venant." Était tout ce qu'il entendait avant qu'il ne se sente pris par son dos, étant jeté à travers le stade et à travers un mur, son fusil jaillissant de ses mains à quelques pieds de lui. Il gémit, s'emparant de la tête. "Ah... pourquoi n'as-tu rien dit?" "J'ai dit entrant." "Ouais, juste avant qu'il ne me jette à travers un mur." "Je ne suis pas physiquement capable d'empêcher cela de se produire, agent Maine." "Alors j'ai remarqué..." Maine gémit, toussant alors qu'il se levait lentement, le robot marchant lentement vers lui comme un mauvais film terminateur.

Full name: James Lockhart "Iceman" Code name: Maine Gender: Male Age: 23 Implanted A.I.: Delta - Logic - Green. Delta grants Iceman better reasoning skills, able to "slow down time" essentially in his head to make the most logical, optimal, and efficient choices. Side effects include lacking sympathy or empathy, logic taking over emotion. Armour Ability: Tactical vision Appearance: Personality: James suits his A.I. well, as he is more of a man of logic and reasoning than anything else. He makes friendships because they are beneficial, not because he particularly enjoys people. It's not like he's a complete asshole or anything, but if you need something from him and it's not in his best interest and won't benefit him, he won't do it. He won't save you in a fight unless you're worth saving, but on the flip side he won't kill you unless he feels it's necessary. Granted this may make his morale scale a little out of whack, he's not some axe murderer either. He's cold, cunning, calculating, out for himself and only himself. And in battle, he always is level headed and has been known to think and be one step ahead. This is why he is the Iceman. History: James never knew his parents, or any parents for that matter. His biological ones put him up for adoption because they were too poor, casting him out to an orphanage. It was in a rough city, so as you could imagine, bullying and the more than occasional beatings were in order. Food was spread thin, you had a room like a jail sell, and it was a miracle if somebody smuggled a toy in. In a world like this you only looked after yourself, and it was survival of the fittest every day. Kids did die in that place, and only the lucky ever got adopted. James wasn't so lucky. Instead, he made his own luck. Through his life and going into his teen years, James would sneak out of the orphanage and steal from people and stores outside the city, getting whatever he could. Cards, toys, food and water, money, cigarettes. Anything of value. It took a while, and some close calls, but James got handy at climbing rooftops, sneaking down alleys, stealing, pick pocketing, conning. Running away and hiding. And occasionally getting beat up too. Shot once or twice. When he did get the items however, he bartered inside the orphanage, traded, gambled. Sometimes he would make alliances with other kids that would mutually benefit them. After playing the game for a while, James lived more comfortably than most, and was well known in and out of the orphanage. Then he turned 18. Knowing that he barely had schooling and no money, the best option for him was to join the military. After passing the physical exams with flying colors, he was enlisted in the UNSC as a sniper. He was the top marksman in his class, and with a rifle he could shoot a dime off a clothespin. After many successful missions, he was promoted to ODST, where he would drop either in small squads for tactical missions or solo for recon and assassination missions. The mission before he was recruited to a freelancer project, he was set on a mission leading a squad of four to do reconnaissance on a small outpost. It was a normal mission, and usually one of the less eventful ones, but the ODST was sent because there were rumors of the flood overtaking the now abandoned outpost. Well, it wasn't abandoned. After a sweep of the place, the squad was suddenly ambushed. Not by the flood however... it was the covenant. Five ships had surrounded the outpost and elites swarmed into the place. It was a trap. The group fled to loading dock to try to get to the ship before they were gunned down, except James refused to go with them and climbed up to the top of the rafters. He knew that the covenant would have already destroyed and looted their ship, and it was fruitless to try and get to it before hand. The squad had managed two fight through two ships worth, but full frontal assault on them was suicide. Watching his team die in front of him, he tried to figure a way out. After waiting several hours, he waited until the covenant were about to leave before making his move. After dispatching a few elite on one of the smaller ships, he piloted it in an attempt to escape. However, the other ships closed onto him, and he crash landed on an nearby planet with only minor injuries and fled the wreckage. Covenant ships touched down as the remaining crew was out for revenge. Holed up atop a cliff face outlooking the area, and with his rifle along with the rest of his gear, he managed to not only hold off the covenant, but killed them all, before taking one of their ships and fleeing safely. It wasn't an army by any means, there only being the two small ships worth of elites. It took a lot of stealth work, timing, planning, and chance... but it worked. Luck might have played a deciding role in this, but Iceman never believed in luck. He made his own. This is when he joined the Freelancer project, where he was assigned the name of a state that was just cold enough for the Iceman. Maine. Weapon Loadout: Model 99 Special Application Scoped Rifle, modified with a silencer, enhanced variable zoom, extended magazine, and a tri-pod. DMR with a grip, stock, silencer, and selective fire for fully automatic, three round burst, or single shot. Modified to reduce recoil. Black painted Bowie knife 2x frag grenades 2x smoke grenades Fighting Style: If you haven't already noticed from the bio, if you have read it or not, or simply looked at the weapons, you can tell Maine is particularly into long range engagements. He is quite confident in his sniping ability and he can handle most targets in that range, and likes to stay at that range. His field optics allow him to see mostly anything on the battlefield, even through walls (which his handy sniper can shoot through) as well as predict movements to more precisely hit his shots. A marksman through and through, he likes keeping his enemy at a distance. Bullets are very deadly and are good at killing people, hulk smashing somebody or going Bruce Lee on them is just stupid. He wants to be as far away as possible and shoot you before you even know he existed within a 5 km radius. However, this obviously isn't the case always. Overall he invests in a stealth first approach almost always, going into a situation with a plan and trying to outsmart and out strategize the opponent. If the engagement happens to get close, he resorts to the fully automatic DMR, and if too close and a built stealthier, the knife. In hand to hand combat he is average at best, as he doesn't do it a whole lot. However in this situation he would usually rely on cunning, such as getting the first blow in a sneak attack, somehow gaining an advantage, calculating the opponent's moves and looking for a clear cut opportunity. But through and through, in a fisticuffs match versus someone trained in hand to hand more than him or physically stronger than he, he is not going to be winning very easily. In fact, the best course of action against big scary people trying to, I don't know, stab him or beat him up might be running occasionally. Pick your battles, you know?

La Californie s'est tournée vers les commentaires flatteurs de l'Ohio. "Hé, peut-être que je devrais essayer ça..." Il a répondu à la femme blindée blanche. Il n'a pas eu le temps de se faufiler et de s'inquiéter pour essayer d'être remarqué. Dans sa précédente ligne de travail en tant que Merc, les plans qui impliquaient de rester tranquille ALWAYS ont mal tourné, alors pourquoi s'embêter en premier lieu? "Si vous vous préparez à vous battre, préparez-vous bien." C'était la devise que lui enseignait son ancien commandant. Cependant, ces jours-là étaient derrière lui... et les idées d'être utile à la fureur lui sont tombées dans la tête têtue... un peu. De retour dans le combat, Arthur a commencé à recharger son SAW, laissant le magazine vide se taper sur le sol avant de glisser et de sécuriser le deuxième clip de tours. C'est alors que l'Ohio a renoué avec un autre ennemi. Elle peut prendre soin d'elle-même. "Californie! Plus d'ennemis à droite! Aussi... ce tireur d'élite est allé très loin, très vite... » Chi lui a chié dans l'oreille. Merde... des tangos s'approchent et un autre freelance vient de se faire taper sur le cul. La Californie a dû réfléchir vite. Et l'idée qu'il a eue a dû être mise en place... mais c'était vraiment stupide aussi... la Californie a lâché et a décidé de rouler avec. Il a rangé son arme et sorti ses grenades, une dans chaque main. "Les gars... couvrez-moi..." Il a dit à Washington et à l'Ohio. La Californie sprinta dans le groupe aussi vite qu'il le pouvait, se jetant dans la petite foule de robots. Il en a bowlingé un peu, et a désespérément écarté le couple debout quand il a décroché ses grenades et les a déposés dans la foule. Toujours en marche, Cali s'enfuit avec une seule prise sur son avant-bras. Le Spartan a saisi le bras des robots et les a balayés du rayon d'explosion, exécutant ce qu'on appelle techniquement un « whip irlandais » alors qu'il envoyait le robot tomber dans un mur voisin. Il a profité de cette occasion créée pour s'éloigner des grenades déposées, prêt à partir à tout moment. La Californie a pris le fusil appartenant au Maine et a utilisé l'extrémité de celui-ci pour bluffer le robot marchant vers l'agent groggy. La Californie lui a renvoyé le sniper. -- Ici! Il a crié. Le robot n'était pas fasciné du tout, et a atterri un coup de pied rapide dans le dos de l'Ours, l'envoyant s'éloigner. "Fuck!" Il a hurlé alors qu'il s'est lancé dans la direction d'un autre robot de combat, qui a profité de l'occasion pour renverser Arthur sur le menton. "Fais chier!" Il a dit à nouveau qu'il s'était fait piéger entre les deux. Il reprit l'équilibre et regarda par-dessus son épaule pendant qu'il jutait son coude dans la poitrine du robot précédent, se retournant et livrant un crochet droit de manuel dans le temple du robot. Cependant, l'autre robot enroulé ce sont des bras métalliques autour de la taille d'Arthur, qui l'ont jeté dans le mur Maine vient de se jeter dans. "Bastard! Qu'est-ce qu'il y a? Il a encore maudit.

Full name: Arthur Jones Code name: California Gender: Male Age: 22 Implanted A.I.: Chi- Excitement= Increases adrenaline, reflexes and speed during combat situations. Causes the user to become more aggressive and charge head first into combat. Armour Ability: Disruption Personality: California has two sides. Out of combat, Arthur is a friendly face around the quarters, who greatly enjoys conversation and very hospitable to the other team members. However, on the field, California becomes a force of destruction, always looking for the "Scorched Earth" option, much preferring blasting his way through the front door than stealth operations. He greatly enjoys training in all physical manners, and loves to practice hand to hand combat, wanting to prove that he is the strongest without any kind of boosters. He loves to ensue chaos amongst the enemy ranks, sending them into disarray as he rips and tears through them. However, his greatest passion is vehicles. He is a vehicle specialist and can pilot almost anything from warthogs, scorpions to hornets too. However, if he can dispose of it, it is most likely that you will find him soaring into the enemy base, surfing a mongoose as he fires blindly into the enemies, roaring triumphantly. History: The Bear used to be a mercenary, shooting for the highest bidder and asking questions later. He was captured by UNSC forces at 17 after a mission gone wrong, and his contractor hired him to steal from a UNSC supply depot. He was caught carrying out ammo cache's with one of his cohorts. After being arrested, the Bear was kept for a year before a deal was struck. Volunteer for the Freelancer Programme or be sentenced to death for crimes against the UNSC and carrying out mercenary military contracts. The choice was obvious. Arthur accelerated at all physical exercises, especially strength focused ones. As boots on the grounds go, Arthur was one of the best. However, his reckless behaviour from being a mercenary carried through, and in simulations, heading straight first into danger was his only plan of attack, much like an ODST drop pod. Sooner or later, the idea of stealth and tactics (as well as a respect for authority) was hammered into him somewhat, and through that, he got pretty handy with a combat knife. He also became extremely proficient in heavy weaponry, learning the ins and outs of weapons like Spartan Lasers, chainguns, Hydra Lauchers, Railguns and his favourite, the SAW. However, while also in the training simulations, Arthur found a knack for vehicles, and outside of simulations he was also seen in the vehicle bays, looking over every intricate part. Right now, his pride and joy is the "Chariot Of Fire". A custom Rocket Hog that he is working on, wanting to make it the fastest, most destructive warthog out there. California is now a true Spartan, and his recklessness only ever comes to play when his teammates are in danger. He will follow orders with maximum efficiency and brutality. When you need siege, demolition and pure strength to punch through, the Bear is your call. Weapon Loadout: Advanced SAW with lower fire rate but projectiles have a proximity-fused high explosive warhead. Commonly known as "The Answer". Custom Paintjob. Secondary weapon is a Sentinel class DMR with sentinel sight and silencer. Also carries a combat knife for CQB and stealth skills. He also has two M9 grenades and selects breaching explosives accordingly for missions. Fighting Style: "CHAAAAAAAAAAAARGE!!!"- California's fighting style leaves a lot to be desired in terms of finesse. His love of heavy duty equipment such as heavy weapons and vehicles ensures brutal punishment to the enemy, either relentlessly sieging from afar or tearing through a corridor with a spray of rounds from "The Answer." One thing Arthur isn't is quiet. Well, he prefers not to be. He is capable of stealth but it is not his go to method. In close combat, Arthur deploys a boxing/wrestling approach, involving a lot of heavy strikes and grapples.

>Emplacement: UNSC Outpost Theta, Arcadia >Fichier d'implication: United Rebel Frontier >Il y a deux mois... Le groupe s'est déplacé en synchronisation, l'un derrière l'autre comme une ligne de conga... Si une ligne de conga était armée d'armes et d'explosifs lourdement chargés. Un par un, ils se sont déplacés vers leur destination, une porte verrouillée entre l'intérieur et la descente qui s'est propagée à l'extérieur. Pourtant, Grant n'était pas dans leurs rangs, quant à un. Il a été placé ailleurs, avec une vue assez remarquable. Masqué principalement par la pluie et l'obscurité de la nuit, il s'empare de son Marksman Rifle désigné, en gardant un visage droit en regardant les vues de ses deux camarades avec succès. Un pupitre d'abreuvoirs truffés et mélangés entre un sol en béton saigné par le sang, créant une solution rouge et olfactive contre les murs. Une fois à l'intérieur, Grant aurait dû partir, n'ayant aucune utilité à l'intérieur avec son arme. Il pouvait les voir, se déplaçant pas à pas et déchirant les flaques avec chaque rythme supplémentaire. Remarquable de voir comment ils viendraient jusqu'ici, ses frères, sœurs et camarades. Quand il a grandi au sein des insurgés, ils étaient peu-plus que de petits combattants du temps, survivant à peine aux rencontres qu'ils ont eues. Mais maintenant, ils étaient entraînés, armés et équipés d'armes appropriées pour même tuer un Spartan s'il était utilisé correctement. Ils étaient de plus en plus nombreux, devenant un problème pour le Conseil de sécurité des Nations Unies et d'autres groupes insurgés. C'était leur but, de se faire remarquer. C'est pour que les forces d'occupation des Nations Unies puissent se concentrer sur les civils dans le besoin, qui n'en reçoivent que peu. Et maintenant... Un bruit a fracturé ses pensées. Ça sonnait comme des bottes lourdes, juste derrière lui. Grant était déjà couché sur son front, engloutissant son gilet de combat dans les murs aqueux de la FOB de l'UNSC. Il pouvait entendre des bottes se rapprocher, alors qu'il roulait sur son dos rapidement, DMR tourné vers le son. Pourtant, avant qu'il ne puisse réagir et appuyer sur la gâchette, une vue de choc lui est venue... sous la forme d'un shock Trooper... un shock Trooper Orbital Drop... une escouade de ou... vous avez le putain de point. Quatre d'entre eux, encerclés autour de lui, tous avec des armes dirigées sur sa poitrine. Maintenant, tout semblait immobile. La pluie a continué à s'éclabousser contre les casques des spécialistes de l'ODST, ainsi que contre le vêtement Rebel de Grant, mais personne n'a prononcé un mot. Du moins pour le moment. Ils se fixèrent tous les uns les autres, à travers les visières et les regards, avant que Grant ne rompe le moment de silence et de gêne. "Hey les gars... Je crois que j'ai vu les Rebels aller par là." Il ne pouvait s'empêcher de sourire sous sa propre visière, mais l'ODST n'a pas vu le côté drôle de celle-ci, l'un des soldats centraux plaçant leur botte lourde contre sa poitrine pour le garder sur le sol, l'autre jambe coupant le DMR dans sa main. Le silence s'est maintenu un peu plus longtemps, et pourtant il est resté embarrassant et douloureux pour le rebelle sur le sol. Sa voix toussait et griffait sous le poids du spécialiste de l'ODST. La main de Grant a lentement fait place à son rencard, ironiquement pas situé dans sa botte. Personne ne le soupçonnerait, n'est-ce pas? "Hé... hé... je peux te faire faire jouer au tribunal pour ça... ou je pourrais..." Sans avertissement, il a remonté sa lame rapidement, l'injectant dans un trou entre l'armure du spécialiste de l'ODST, sur la jambe qui a été pressée contre sa poitrine. L'homme, comme identifiable par sa voix, a trébuché à l'envers boiteux avant que Grant ait eu l'occasion de reprendre le contrôle de son couteau. Avant qu'il ne puisse réagir, en faisant battre les soldats de l'ODST de style action-héros, la crosse d'une arme à feu s'est cognée dans son visage, le conduisant dans un abîme froid et sombre connu comme étant inconscient... >Localisation: Chaîne du CSNU, Centre de détention mobile/orbital >Il y a un mois... "Ahh...Bloody porridge à l'intérieur de la prison? Pouvons-nous engager quelqu'un qui n'a pas abandonné l'école de cuisine pour nous faire des repas?" Grant a appelé de sa cellule. Le bol carbonisé qu'il tenait dans ses mains sentait la déception et l'échec alors qu'une substance gorgée que quelqu'un catégorisait avec de la nourriture menaçait d'être indulgente. C'était un moment triste. Ici, il pourrait être, errant libre dans un champ avec des papillons et des arcs-en-ciel, quand à la place, il était assis dans ce qui était l'équivalent de la sueur de testicule de la flotte de la CSNU. Il y avait un colocataire pour Grant, mais soit il a été libéré, soit il a été transféré dans une autre cellule pour le rebelle apparemment faire des blagues sur le viol... Qui savait que ses blagues ressemblaient à des menaces légitimes pour d'autres prisonniers? Grant n'était pas le plus fort du quartier, ni la prison du tout. Il était comme le type brouillé qui se fait glisser entre les grands et les frapper de derrière. Mais en toute honnêteté, Grant n'aimait pas du tout se battre dans la prison. C'était mal, comme la moitié de ses actions d'insurgés. Et maintenant, il était assis dans une prison orbitale, sans même une vue de fenêtre sur le monde extérieur. Pouvez-vous vraiment l'appeler dehors? C'était plus un vide, n'est-ce pas? Le vide de l'espace étant une sorte de... Tu sais quoi, ça devenait beaucoup trop profond et ennuyeux pour quelqu'un comme Grant. Bien sûr, c'était un garçon extrêmement intelligent, mais Grant n'était pas connu pour s'être assis sur son cul et avoir trop réfléchi. C'était plutôt un type réactionnel? Ou quelque chose comme ça. D'habitude, la distance était son allié au combat, mais il n'en verrait plus dans un moment. Jusqu'à ce que la porte de sa cellule s'ouvre, et deux gardes, accompagnant un homme bien habillé, le regardèrent. Ils étaient d'abord silencieux, regardant l'homme particulier. Il ne ressemblait pas aux autres dans les cellules de la prison. Il était grand, plus cutané, mais pas maigre, et très bien présenté, sauf pour un petit chaume et des cheveux rufflés. Les deux ont rencontré les yeux, d'une manière non-romantique, et partagé des pensées, les deux se questionnant l'un l'autre à l'intérieur de l'autre. "Bonjour, Grant... J'aimerais partager une proposition pour vous..." >Localisation: Installation de freelancer >Journée d'aujourd'hui... Les combats avaient commencé, et immédiatement, Grant colombe pour la couverture à la plus grande distance qu'il pouvait gagner. Il était temps de faire un petit levé. Il brandit sa nouvelle armure, avec son nouvel alias, et sa nouvelle arme brillante. Holstered sur son dos, un M6C et M6MP, tous deux munis de poignées de poignet personnalisées, sont restés sur le garde pour l'utilisation. Ses mains tenaient un DMR très modifié, avec la capacité de louer la modification d'attachement et les types de munitions. Il a scanné le champ de bataille en avant, même si c'était un scénario. Elle était jonchée de corps en mouvement. Les deux attaquant les robots et étant jetés comme des jouets d'enfants. C'était humoristique, pour le moins, mais il savait qu'il serait dans la même situation s'il n'y réfléchissait pas. Il a remarqué que les robots se battaient tous différemment, selon qui ils se battaient. Il s'avère qu'ils avaient des pensées similaires, ou une programmation dans ce cas, quant à l'Iowa. Il savait ce qu'ils faisaient. S'adapter aux tactiques militaires ou de la force brute similaires. Pour combattre quelqu'un qui apprend vos stratégies, vous devez continuer à changer votre propre stratégie. L'Iowa a été béni de savoir qu'il pouvait faire des dégâts avec cela à l'esprit. Avant qu'il ne commence à monter à de nouvelles hauteurs, une voix cria dans son casque, le faisant sauter et faillit perdre son équilibre d'où il se tenait statiquement. C'est venu comme une surprise pour lui, certainement. "Agent Iowa, cet endroit est déjà occupé. Cependant, il y a beaucoup d'autres points à obtenir d'une position de marqueur. » Il a regardé autour de lui, en vérifiant que ce n'était pas juste une autre voix près de lui. Mais l'Iowa savait que cela sonnait différemment, tout comme... C'était l'intelligence artificielle qu'on lui avait promise à la prison et au cours de ses débuts en tant que Freelancer. Et maintenant, il se battait aux côtés de toutes ces autres personnes, toutes avec leurs propres ajouts et AI à mettre à l'usage. "Votre silence n'est pas réconfortant, Agent Iowa. Permettez-moi de stimuler vos sens, peut-être que maintenant vous ne serez pas si hésitant." "Bah, je ne suis pas préparé pour une voix dans ma tête..." Iowa s'est appelé. Il a dû admettre que le CSNU avait un équipement très intéressant avec lequel jouer. Il a souhaité qu'il reste coincé autour de voler leurs affaires plus souvent pour obtenir cela pour ses amis du passé. "D'accord... D'accord... alors j'ai... un sentiment bizarre... mais je suppose que je sais ce que tu veux dire... Laisse-moi juste les étudier une seconde." Les yeux de l'Iowa dardaient entre les zones de la zone d'entraînement, regardant entre les robots pour voir les faiblesses. Il semblait qu'ils étaient vulnérables à des punitions lourdes et continues, ainsi qu'à des balles simples et durs à partir de grandes armes. Mais il n'avait pas de grandes armes. Cependant, le premier, il avait accès à un feu rapide. Il a rembourré son M6MP et s'est rapidement cassé sur le garde-bracelet. Il s'est serré autour de son armure, restant dans ses mains. Coupe merveilleuse, et la taille de la gâchette merveilleuse. Il s'est monté comme un gant... un gant rempli de dangereux projectiles... Il s'est jeté au-dessus du mur qu'il a caché derrière, se déplaçant soigneusement pour trouver un robot isolé. Il était facile de partir de la jante et de faire son chemin à l'intérieur où la résistance lourde serait. Et tout comme sa chance, l'IA dans son esprit l'a repéré. « J'ai oublié d'ajouter... Mon nom est Sigma, votre AI avancée qui vous a été assignée spécifiquement par le directeur. J'aime les longues promenades sur la plage et la musique country..." "Woah woah woah...Introductions plus tard, blippy... et s'il vous plaît dites-moi que vous plaisantiez sur le dernier..." Son AI a répondu rapidement, car Sigma lui a donné un doux choc. "J'ai été programmé pour comprendre l'humour, assez significativement. Apparemment, cela conviendrait à votre niveau de socialisation, si vos rapports apparaissent suffisamment clairs." « Super... Vous avez accès à mes rapports... » Il a commencé à faire des progrès, en courant vers le plus gros robot devant lui. Il avait un petit trou sous ses jambes levées, alors qu'il glissa sur ses genoux, tenant la gâchette sur son arme alors qu'il la dirigeait vers le ciel. Les balles ont pulvérisé dans le dessous, avant qu'il ne s'arrête du côté opposé du bot. De là, il a commencé à décharger à la tête du bot, fournissant une punition lourde et répétitive jusqu'à ce qu'il ait dû recharger et le bot a cédé à la pression. Heureusement, les deux sont arrivés en même temps. "Ah! On dirait que votre programme était juste... Avant de pouvoir finir sa terrible excuse pour une blague, un poing l'a frappé sur le côté, l'envoyant glisser le long du sol vers un groupe d'autres Freelancers. Au cours de son épiphanie de glisser dans le sol peu clair des écrous et des boulons, il s'est rendu compte que c'était un karma instantané pour les crimes qu'il avait faits pour les lois de l'humour et de la comédie décente...Enfin, il s'est arrêté lorsqu'il a balayé l'un des Freelancer de leurs pieds dans une collision.

Agent Iowa Full name Grant McGregory Codename Iowa Gender Male Age 27 Implanted A.I. Sigma Increases the user’s general abilities allows the user to mentally map out and simulate battle plans. Causes the user to be more cunning, manipulative and more creative. Armour Ability Jet-Suit Appearance Personality Whereas Grant hasn't been on the more optimistic side of life, he surely faces the realism of it. However, he enjoys sugar-coating his troubles with a sense of witty remarks and comedic, creative Operation methods. There aren't many times were Grant has seen a large, substantial amount of pride in his actions, but the odd here and there he'll celebrate whatever he finds amusing, witty or downright useful towards the given objective. Being more of a team-spirit kind of individual, due to his fighting styles, he's prone to depending heavily on other Agents on field, meaning solo operations or engagements can sometimes put a small deal of pressure and tension on him. Unfortunately, that also is a reason for him to get far too close to other members of his Unit, which isn't always ideal in Project Freelancer. Yet, within Project Freelancer, Grant has become more acceptable with killing other insurgents and targets than he would've done in his past. Background During the Great-War, Grant was brought up into a different style of life. Instead of fighting the Covenant or any other major threats, he made a living growing up within a Small Insurgent Cell that jumped between systems in order to sustain themselves. Though it does not provide the same military, extensive training, it features experience and training on the battlefield from small-scale firefights and sieges. Having started the arts of guerrilla warfare and unconventional combat tactics at a young age, he developed his way up towards the more important tasks his family and group had to offer. Within this Cell, Grant had gotten enough experience to learn that even in humanity's desperate times, they were still keen on killing one another in the background, having caused him to be involved in their acts originally. They didn't plan on making a massive difference, but they wanted to get their message across about humanity's violence and segregation between one another. The only way to know how to do that was to devise plans that only the UNSC would be familiar with, violence. It was contradictory, yes...But it worked out. For a while, at least. During recent months, an Operation to gather UNSC data in the hopes to convince them to pay attention to their demands and cries for help, which had been ignored for so long that the group had resorted to minor insurgency. Now, Grant was a difficult one to tackle. He completely supported the UNSC in their struggles against the Great War's threats, but he was in disagreement with their attention paid to the poorer colonies. Because of this conflict in compassion, when settled as a designated marksman for the Operation, he found himself only shooting the legs of targeted UNSC Personnel. However, this non-lethal decision had left him exposed to discovery, and a major conflict broke out during one of their objectives. Grant was lucky enough to engage in CQC well enough to eliminate two pursers, but could not prevent the force of the UNSC from catching up quickly. He was captured and held quietly. It was a short sentence, as he sat in regret for his total actions, before someone of a promised future bailed him out early. Though this background of insurgency hasn't left him very popular amongst his new ranks in Project Freelancer, the ones who freed him in favour of his cooperation, but he's managed to get used to the minor verbal abuse faced in his first days, weeks and months. Now, kitted out with his new armour, he is far more suited to fitting in as a Freelancer Agent, rather than an Insurgent. Weapon Loadout M392 Designated Marksman Rifle w/ extended barrel M6 Machine Pistol w/ Wrist Grip to attach onto Iowa, making it extremely difficult to drop or lose in combat. M6C Handgun Kukri Blade x2 Smoke Grenades x1 Fragmentation Grenade x1 Dud Grenade Fighting Style Preferred at Mid-Long Range by his peers, superiors and himself, Grant suits the role of a designated marksmen quite well. But from what he'd been brought up in alongside the arts of guerrilla warfare, he's been chosen as useful up-close, mainly with both blade and handgun. These mixed with his armour ability make for a unique and fast fighting style, but hand to hand combat isn't his greatest strength. Character Theme

Washington a gâché. "La lache va bien." Washington a regardé l'Ohio démonter les droïdes, c'était comme voir un ingénieur expert démonter une voiture, si complète. "Le problème, c'est que je suis beaucoup plus proche avec mon fusil ici, je vais vous montrer." Roaring dans un cri de bataille qu'il a chargé dans le robot le plus proche poignardant le robot aussi dur qu'il le pouvait dans la poitrine. La baïonnette perce la poitrine du robot et l'ouvre aussi facilement qu'un ouvre-boîte. Le bot l'a pris sauvagement alors que Washington a appuyé sur la gâchette pour la remplir de plomb. Les armes sont tombées en panne au moment où Washington a atteint la fin de son mag. En prenant son M363, il l'a tiré sur les robots se dirigeant vers la Californie en prenant deux et en dégageant le chemin pour lui. "Domo arigato, salope." Son manque soudain de concentration l'a récompensé d'un coup de poing au visage qui l'a frappé des pieds et est revenu sur le sol. "Plus de gentil gars, alors". Enlevant son M363, il le tire sur la poitrine du robot qui l'avait frappé au visage. Frappant le bot offensif dans la poitrine, il a trébuché sur quelques décombres alors que Washington s'est déployé hors du chemin. Se tenant debout, il a vu le robot se remettre du coup de pied. En s'éloignant du robot, il a appuyé sur le bouton rouge du côté de son M363, la bombe a fait exploser le torse des robots. "Je vais vous appeler le lanceur collant, pas le meilleur nom, mais c'est mieux que le Détonateur Téléprojectile M363." Alors qu'il apprenait à connaître son pote collant connu, un corps est sorti de nulle part le balayant de ses pieds et l'envoyant s'écraser sur le sol. "Woah, mord yo gun ho là-bas mec." Se tenant debout, Washington a arpenté le champ de bataille, il n'a pu voir que quelques-uns de ces robots. Une forte corne pouvait être entendue sur les coups de feu et des agents criaient. Les robots se sont arrêtés et se sont tenus à l'attention sur place. La voix des réalisateurs a ensuite sonné au-dessus de l'interphone. « Agents de droit qui assez, Vous êtes renvoyé pour aujourd'hui. Washington vous êtes nécessaire dans la baie médicale, à partir de ce moment vos capacités d'armure sont maintenant activées. Assurez-vous de suivre les règles tout écart sera sévèrement puni! En dehors de cela, vous êtes libre d'explorer l'installation, aller dans votre chambre ou vous mêler avec les autres agents. C'est entièrement à toi de voir. Cependant, vous aurez une mission à venir bientôt alors soyez prêt à bouger à un moment donné." Washington a rechargé son AR et l'a placé sur la poignée magnétique sur son dos. Il a fait de même avec son nouveau lanceur collant qu'il a placé à la place sur le dos de son torse. "C'était un peu dingue, n'est-ce pas? Ces robots arrivent toujours à me surprendre par leur résistance au feu. Vous vous demandez pourquoi ils ne les utilisent pas à la place bien?" Washington a fait une double prise. "Avez-vous tous l'A.I.? Qu'est-ce que vous avez tous les gars avoir les cloches et sifflements et je suis là avec ma bite dans ma main qui ressemble à un crétin. J'espère que j'aurai le bon bout du bâton avec ces I.A.." -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- En quittant le champ d'entraînement, il s'est dirigé vers la baie médicale. Avant d'entrer dans une infirmière, il a dit qu'il aurait besoin de retirer son armure et de porter une robe chirurgicale. "J'ai déjà essayé de me sortir de mes fringues." Son humour grossier a été rencontré avec le silence. Il s'est senti mal à l'aise, il a pris la robe et s'est transformé en elle. Une fois qu'il a été changé, on lui a dit de s'allonger sur une table. Washington n'a jamais aimé les salles de chirurgie et il a imaginé que ce ne serait pas une expérience agréable. Un masque a été abaissé autour de son visage alors que le chirurgien se rassemblait autour de lui, après quelques secondes il dormait dans l'inconscience et les chirurgiens commencèrent leur travail...

Name: Jacobs Huntington Codename: Washington Age: 27 Gender: Male Armour Ability: Teleportation Implanted A.I.: Epsilon - Increases awareness and heightened senses by increasing the amount of stimulus the brain can take. Epsilon yearns for knowledge and will cause his implanty to become more studious. Appearance: Personality: Jacobs is an optimistic guy who always sees the funny side of a dangerous situation. He hates being wrong and doesn't appreciate being corrected (Even when he is wrong). Jacobs can be very cocky and overestimate an opponent, situation or even his own skills. Taking on tasks that are far too difficult for him alone, he can be very stubborn and will not admit when he needs help or even ask for it. Even with all this he keeps his head and always thinks about the objective and how to achieve it. History: Jacobs had an ordinary childhood, nothing truly special. Brought up on military drills and weapon stripping he has known nothing but UNSC and the pride he would bring his family fighting for the UNSC. His family were quick to distrust the Elites joining humanities caused and this xenophobia rubbed off on Jacobs. Once he was of age he was shipped straight off to the nearest UNCS barracks to begin his training. Fast forward several years and Jacobs found himself fighting an innumerable foe know as the flood and in charge of his own six man squad. Called the greatest threat to the galaxy Jacobs fully understood why. During one particular battle in which Jacobs and five other men had to protect and hold a comms array Jacobs finally saw the elite in a positive light. During the fighting Jacobs lost all of his men too the monstrous creatures with his back against the wall he saw his fellow soldiers rise up and turn on him. Seeing no way out he pulled the pin on a grenade and held it to what was left of his helmet. Before he could finish himself the Elite reinforcements arrived in a rain of plasma fire. Throwing the grenade into the horde he watched as the Elite forces swept through the sea of flood systematically slaughtering this great threat. With the threat eliminated Jacobs thanked the Elites for their help. A few months later he was put forward for the Freelancer Project. Weapon loadout: MA2B Assault Rifle with built in bayonet. M319 Individual Grenade Launcher. M6H Pistol. Combat Knife. x3 Fragmentation Grenade. x2 Flash Grenades Grenades. Fighting Style: Jacobs fights up close and personal using his personalised Assault rifle mixed with his large variety of martial arts.

Le cul du fusil de Montana a rencontré le visage d'un autre robot."Veux-tu mourir prêt?" Il s'est exclamé alors que les lumières de la machine se sont finalement évanouies ", A peu près le temps, pas de jeu aujourd'hui." Il a ziggué et zag à couvrir pour obtenir ses repères alors que plusieurs autres robots ont concentré leur attention sur lui. « Le combat s'épuise, les élimine », a déclaré une voix basse et grave. "Pas maintenant Omega je suis occupé et je travaille dessus," Montana a répondu de retour picing au-dessus du mur seulement à canard quand un coup a bougé de la barrière. "D'accord alors, que diriez-vous d'un peu de bang", a-t-il dit en débranchant une grenade et en sautant rapidement et en la jetant. Le temps semble s'arrêter brièvement alors que les robots regardaient la grenade et le Montana célébrait tôt. Sa célébration n'a duré que peu de temps après que la grenade a navigué au-dessus des robots jusqu'au-delà d'une barrière inoccupée. "Cela jette la trajectoire était pathétique," Omega a déclaré à laquelle le Montana maudit avant de trouver une nouvelle couverture. La bataille s'est terminée peu de temps après. "Damn voulait écraser d'autres boîtes d'étain", a déclaré Montana avec déception en sortant de la salle de simulation avec les autres freelances.

Full name: Zeke Code name: Montana Gender: Male Age: 31 Implanted A.I.: Omega - Increases hand to hand and weapon handling skill. Increases aggression in the user. Armour Ability: Super Strength Appearance (Armor): Apperance (Out of Armor): Still looking... Personality: Zeke is a hard-ass type of guy, it doesn't necessarily means he doesn't have a sense of humor but most of the time he is straight to the point and doesn't sugar coat things. If things look bad, he is going to be the guy to admit that shit is about to hit the fan and not everyone is going to make it rather then try and be optimistic. Yet despite his hard nature, he enjoys poking his comrade's buttons and has a sense of humor that lies under the hard exterior, though whether or not that sense of humor is safe for his comrades is harder to answer, he has been known to let a live flash grenade loose in their rooms to see how fast they can scramble away from it before it goes off. He doesn't understand why he is the only one who finds it funny. XD History: Hard to imagine a dropout could find his way to the freelancer program. He dropout of college sick and tired of the grind and joined the UNSC despite his parents protests, figuring he would want more out of life then being a 'dumb grunt' described by his father. He gave them the bird and out the door he went to start a new life as a soldier. It was no cakewalk though and at first Zeke barely scraped by to make it even into the army but he wanted to prove to everyone that he was more then just some dumb grunt and kept pushing himself, trying to be the best of the best. He was eventually moved over to work in an ODST unit, though his hopes of serving on Reach when the covenant attacked never came true, he still saw his fare share of battles within his unit where he soon got know for being a hardcase with his superiors. He got the job done for the most part but there were complaints of disobeying directives and reckless endangerment though no one was ever killed. Perhaps this was what eventually got the attention of those who ran the freelancer program. His dedication to get the job done by any means necessary would be considered a valuable assist to the program for those missions that were balls to the walls so to speak. So now there he was a Freelancer, after ten years of working to show the people at home he was more then a grunt, he stood at the top with some of the best of the best, now he just tries to show he can be even better then them while playing the practical joke here and there that may or may not threaten the safety of those around him. Weapon Loadout: -M45D Tactical Shotgun aka "Scorn" as Zeke likes to call it, it's his pride and joy so to speak, been with him since day one and if anyone else besides him touches it, well they are going to see how hard he can hit before they can say 'sorry'. -MA5D Individual Combat Weapon System -M6H Personal Defense Weapon System -x2 Frag Fighting Style: Up close and personal. He's built like a tank, takes a licking but keeps on ticking so to speak. (He's like the Kool-Aid man but on steroids. XD) He doesn't use a knife though when he gets up close, instead he likes to duke it out with his fists when bullets just don't cut it. Theme Song (because why the heck not): Other: N/A

Tout était flou après qu'il ait été jeté à travers le mur, son fusil s'abattant de ses mains alors qu'il s'embrayait la tête. Il a levé les yeux vers le robot qui marchait vers lui, se repliant lentement lorsqu'il a atteint son BMR. Alors que le robot s'approchait, Delta regarda vers sa gauche, secouant la tête. "Je te lèverais les mains." -- Quoi? Maine s'est confondu, arrêtant son mouvement alors que ses mains étaient près de son visage maintenant. Soudain, un autre freelance s'est précipité, frappant le robot pour le chercher et le jetant son fusil, qu'il a pris. Le freelance n'était pas totalement sans valeur après tout. Cependant, il a vu qu'il se faisait pinballer entre deux robots. Dès qu'il a levé son fusil pour tirer, un autre freelance, Washington, a tiré sur les deux Californiens environnants. Et bien... merde. Il n'y avait plus de robots. Maine se leva et se dépoussiéra en regardant la situation. "Derrière toi." était tout Maine entendu de Delta alors qu'il se retournait, se faisant pratiquement glisser par l'agent Iowa. Maine a glissé vers l'avant, tombant la poitrine d'abord dans le sol alors qu'il regardait ce qui a poussé l'Iowa sur lui. Maine a rapidement retourné son doigt de la gâchette, en frappant toutes les balles restantes dans son clip dans la poitrine du robot en quelques secondes, la ferraille volant partout comme le robot s'est effondré dans un tas, plusieurs balles se précipitant dans Dieu seul sait où. "Regarde, Freelancer." Maine a dit froidement, se levant une fois de plus et collant son fusil à l'aimant sur son dos alors qu'il regardait tous les robots s'éteindre. En gardant tout son matériel, il marcha sans un mot de la salle d'entraînement et tout droit jusqu'au champ de tir, où que ce soit. Il voulait savoir quels étaient les scores au classement, mais ceux-ci ne semblaient pas encore être affichés. Il voulait s'entraîner avec son nouvel équipement dans le temps, pas tant prendre soin des autres agents en ce moment. « Agent Maine, il semble que votre équipement soit en ligne et entièrement fonctionnel. Cela devrait nous aider à repérer les cibles dans la fumée, à travers les murs, à distance, ainsi que prédire le mouvement ennemi pour des tirs plus précis." Delta a expliqué, debout sur son épaule comme d'habitude. "J'ai compris Delta. Entraînons-nous avec l'équipement et testons-le." "Très bien. Pensez-vous que vous devriez d'abord parler avec les autres agents?" "Pourquoi je ferais ça?" « Eh bien, vous faites partie d'une équipe et vous devriez travailler ensemble. Le travail d'équipe vous aidera à effectuer des missions plus efficacement et à atteindre des niveaux de performance. "Je ne fais pas confiance à la moitié de ces gars, et ce n'est pas comme la conversation d'idols fera beaucoup. J'ai l'habitude de travailler seule. En plus, je suis presque sûr que la moitié de ces connards étaient des rebelles et des insurgés, des prisonniers de guerre laissés se battre ici. Mon travail en tant qu'ODST était d'assassiner, de capturer, de surveiller des gars comme ça." "De la même façon, agent Maine, la conversation de base ne fera pas de mal." "Bien... après l'entraînement. Peut-être." Maine grondait, se livrant à l'IA. Il semblait que Delta était plus sociable qu'il ne l'était, s'ennuyant de s'occuper de lui. Très bavard aussi. Mais il avait raison... de savoir que ses alliés l'aideraient. Même si Maine pensait qu'il était meilleur que la moitié des gens ici. Celui-là l'a aidé. À tout le moins, l'acquisition de connaissances pourrait avoir des avantages à l'avenir. Au champ de tir, l'agent Maine couche, installant son trépied alors qu'il regardait à travers la portée de son fusil. Des cibles sont apparues dans la distance, en forme d'humain, très loin alors qu'elles commençaient à se déplacer au hasard à des vitesses variables. "Visière tactique en ligne, cibles de balayage... feu quand l'agent Maine est prêt." Après cela, les seuls bruits entendus étaient des coups de feu.

Full name: James Lockhart "Iceman" Code name: Maine Gender: Male Age: 23 Implanted A.I.: Delta - Logic - Green. Delta grants Iceman better reasoning skills, able to "slow down time" essentially in his head to make the most logical, optimal, and efficient choices. Side effects include lacking sympathy or empathy, logic taking over emotion. Armour Ability: Tactical vision Appearance: Personality: James suits his A.I. well, as he is more of a man of logic and reasoning than anything else. He makes friendships because they are beneficial, not because he particularly enjoys people. It's not like he's a complete asshole or anything, but if you need something from him and it's not in his best interest and won't benefit him, he won't do it. He won't save you in a fight unless you're worth saving, but on the flip side he won't kill you unless he feels it's necessary. Granted this may make his morale scale a little out of whack, he's not some axe murderer either. He's cold, cunning, calculating, out for himself and only himself. And in battle, he always is level headed and has been known to think and be one step ahead. This is why he is the Iceman. History: James never knew his parents, or any parents for that matter. His biological ones put him up for adoption because they were too poor, casting him out to an orphanage. It was in a rough city, so as you could imagine, bullying and the more than occasional beatings were in order. Food was spread thin, you had a room like a jail sell, and it was a miracle if somebody smuggled a toy in. In a world like this you only looked after yourself, and it was survival of the fittest every day. Kids did die in that place, and only the lucky ever got adopted. James wasn't so lucky. Instead, he made his own luck. Through his life and going into his teen years, James would sneak out of the orphanage and steal from people and stores outside the city, getting whatever he could. Cards, toys, food and water, money, cigarettes. Anything of value. It took a while, and some close calls, but James got handy at climbing rooftops, sneaking down alleys, stealing, pick pocketing, conning. Running away and hiding. And occasionally getting beat up too. Shot once or twice. When he did get the items however, he bartered inside the orphanage, traded, gambled. Sometimes he would make alliances with other kids that would mutually benefit them. After playing the game for a while, James lived more comfortably than most, and was well known in and out of the orphanage. Then he turned 18. Knowing that he barely had schooling and no money, the best option for him was to join the military. After passing the physical exams with flying colors, he was enlisted in the UNSC as a sniper. He was the top marksman in his class, and with a rifle he could shoot a dime off a clothespin. After many successful missions, he was promoted to ODST, where he would drop either in small squads for tactical missions or solo for recon and assassination missions. The mission before he was recruited to a freelancer project, he was set on a mission leading a squad of four to do reconnaissance on a small outpost. It was a normal mission, and usually one of the less eventful ones, but the ODST was sent because there were rumors of the flood overtaking the now abandoned outpost. Well, it wasn't abandoned. After a sweep of the place, the squad was suddenly ambushed. Not by the flood however... it was the covenant. Five ships had surrounded the outpost and elites swarmed into the place. It was a trap. The group fled to loading dock to try to get to the ship before they were gunned down, except James refused to go with them and climbed up to the top of the rafters. He knew that the covenant would have already destroyed and looted their ship, and it was fruitless to try and get to it before hand. The squad had managed two fight through two ships worth, but full frontal assault on them was suicide. Watching his team die in front of him, he tried to figure a way out. After waiting several hours, he waited until the covenant were about to leave before making his move. After dispatching a few elite on one of the smaller ships, he piloted it in an attempt to escape. However, the other ships closed onto him, and he crash landed on an nearby planet with only minor injuries and fled the wreckage. Covenant ships touched down as the remaining crew was out for revenge. Holed up atop a cliff face outlooking the area, and with his rifle along with the rest of his gear, he managed to not only hold off the covenant, but killed them all, before taking one of their ships and fleeing safely. It wasn't an army by any means, there only being the two small ships worth of elites. It took a lot of stealth work, timing, planning, and chance... but it worked. Luck might have played a deciding role in this, but Iceman never believed in luck. He made his own. This is when he joined the Freelancer project, where he was assigned the name of a state that was just cold enough for the Iceman. Maine. Weapon Loadout: Model 99 Special Application Scoped Rifle, modified with a silencer, enhanced variable zoom, extended magazine, and a tri-pod. DMR with a grip, stock, silencer, and selective fire for fully automatic, three round burst, or single shot. Modified to reduce recoil. Black painted Bowie knife 2x frag grenades 2x smoke grenades Fighting Style: If you haven't already noticed from the bio, if you have read it or not, or simply looked at the weapons, you can tell Maine is particularly into long range engagements. He is quite confident in his sniping ability and he can handle most targets in that range, and likes to stay at that range. His field optics allow him to see mostly anything on the battlefield, even through walls (which his handy sniper can shoot through) as well as predict movements to more precisely hit his shots. A marksman through and through, he likes keeping his enemy at a distance. Bullets are very deadly and are good at killing people, hulk smashing somebody or going Bruce Lee on them is just stupid. He wants to be as far away as possible and shoot you before you even know he existed within a 5 km radius. However, this obviously isn't the case always. Overall he invests in a stealth first approach almost always, going into a situation with a plan and trying to outsmart and out strategize the opponent. If the engagement happens to get close, he resorts to the fully automatic DMR, and if too close and a built stealthier, the knife. In hand to hand combat he is average at best, as he doesn't do it a whole lot. However in this situation he would usually rely on cunning, such as getting the first blow in a sneak attack, somehow gaining an advantage, calculating the opponent's moves and looking for a clear cut opportunity. But through and through, in a fisticuffs match versus someone trained in hand to hand more than him or physically stronger than he, he is not going to be winning very easily. In fact, the best course of action against big scary people trying to, I don't know, stab him or beat him up might be running occasionally. Pick your battles, you know?

Comme tous les Freelancers ont commencé à quitter la zone d'entraînement, l'Utah, par contre, est passé inaperçu à l'intérieur d'un grand bâtiment à l'intérieur de l'espace désigné. Quel était l'intérêt de ça, agent Utah? Nous n'avons même pas tiré un seul coup. Zeta a demandé d'une basse voix gravillonnée alors que l'Utah regardait à travers sa portée DMR. Je veux savoir ce qu'il m'arrive de faire, puisque je ne veux pas juste être enchevêtré dans le mélange; en outre, se faufiler autour est aussi quelque chose que nous sommes tenus de faire de toute façon. Et qu'est-ce qu'on a à faire, agent Utah? D'après mon expérience... Un tas de costumes de merde, d'IA, d'armes et d'armure jetés dans un groupe et censés travailler ensemble ; rien de tel que les ODST avec lesquels je travaillais. Zeta l'a ensuite regardée sous sa forme jaune flottante alors que l'Utah surveillait soigneusement chaque freelance, pas une fois qu'elle avait perdu les yeux du champ d'application. Pensez-vous que nous allons nous amuser avec eux au lieu de ces robots sans émotion? Utah regarda Zeta, puis s'inclina la tête pour regarder la sortie où les Freelancers traversaient. Non... Pas du tout... les baises ne sont pas amusantes, en fait elles sont aussi amusantes que les merdes qui frappent le fan... ce qui, en passant, n'est pas amusant... nous en avons besoin bien que je déteste l'admettre ; peut-être quand nous sommes en mission dans un environnement riche cible cependant. Ses lèvres se sont séparées dans un sourire, un rire s'échappant de l'intérieur de son casque. Elle a soulevé son DMR sur son épaule d'une main, permettant à l'autre de s'accrocher sur le côté. Vous êtes un "fuckup" vous-même, Agent Utah. Elle a regardé Zeta et a dit, "Bien mieux d'être baisé que de rester vierge, n'est-ce pas? Zeta a pris une pause alors qu'il traitait ce qu'il venait d'entendre. Votre sens de l'humour selon mon programme d'analyse est, citation, aussi sombre qu'un pain de cinq semaines- vieux pain moisi, citation finale. Mais bon sang, pas besoin d'être un puant à ce sujet. Zeta a alors pris la meilleure décision de se fermer, laissant l'Utah sans personne à qui parler. N'est-ce pas, Zeta? C'est quoi, ça? Zêta?... Êtes-vous... Utah a attendu un moment, puis elle a décidé de casser un autre de ses jeux de mots de génie. C'est impoli, c'est sexy, c'est pas moi? Utah s'est moquée d'elle pendant un moment, a reconsidéré ses pauvres choix de vie, puis a laissé sortir un soupir profond. Mais je devrais sortir d'ici. Elle s'est ensuite dirigée vers la sortie de l'aire d'entraînement. "Laissons-nous se serrer la main et se faire des amis, est-ce que nous?" Elle se mit alors à remettre Zeta en marche, sa personnalité tomba dans un état d'esprit sérieux, son comportement complètement changé. Tu t'es arrêté avec ton... Avant que Zeta puisse finir sa phrase, Utah savait déjà ce qu'il allait dire. Plus de jeux de mots... Nous allons rencontrer nos nouveaux compatriotes.

Full Name: Jay Farraday Gender: Female Codename: Utah Age: 23 Armor Ability: Super Agility Implanted AI: Zeta, Known for causing nightmares, has a sadistic personality for instilling fear in others, incredibly easy to work with if you like causing psychological damage and can overcome personal fears and nightmares. Before Freelancer After Freelancer Color Scheme = Steel Primary, Sage Secondary Helmet = Mjolnir VI/S with HU/RS Attachment Chest = Tactical/Recon Shoulders = Recon Knee Guards = FJ/Para Out of Armor Personality: Jay is mostly uptight. Time is of the essence and should not be wasted to her as she is extremely efficient. She is stoic, composed and mostly keeps to herself. She avoids being competitive; rather, she gets sick thrills out of watching her enemies suffer in whatever way she sees fit. The objective of her mission always comes first to her, however, and will forgo her “Fun”. Her mentality is highly cynical as she shares a very sarcastic view of the world, along with a twisted sense of humor that is rarely displayed towards others (It usually comes out in terms of bad puns). --Jay Farraday on the night it went all wrong-- Jay Farraday was already part of the German Special Forces on Earth, and was then selected by Naval Special Warfare command as she fit the requirements needed for ODST assignment. She finished her training with above average performance, and went on to participate in otherwise classified UNSC operations against the insurrection. She and her squad were then assigned as an asset to ONI in a reconnaissance mission on an insurrectionist stronghold. The mission went terribly sideways, and went loud relatively fast. Only she made it out alive, covered in blood and psychologically traumatized. ONI, not wanting to let the dirty secrets of their operations leak out, threw Farraday under the bus and labeled her a traitor to the UNSC. She was then transferred to a UNSC Correctional Installation where she stayed waiting for her Court-Marshal, until Freelancer got her on their radar. Weapon loadouts M392 DMR (I’ll just call it DMR in short) M45 Tactical Shotgun M6C/SOCOM (Also known as the M6 Silenced in ODST) The Good ol’ Combat Knife Grenades: 2x Frag 2x Flash Fighting Style: Jay Farraday likes taking her time with killing from range but she isn’t scared to take the fight up close and personal with her previous ODST hand to hand training and weapon set. She also likes toying with her targets when she isn’t pressed for time. Theme Song --Freelancer Tribute--

La bataille commença à s'arrêter autour de l'Ohio, ce qui n'empêcha pas ses collègues de faire autant de travail d'équipe non coordonné et maladroit que possible. Le sourire de l'Ohio était caché derrière sa visière opaque, elle avait manqué de travailler dans une équipe. Cela faisait un certain temps qu'elle avait travaillé pour la dernière fois avec des gens qu'elle n'avait pas secrètement ordonné de tuer ou de trahir. Il était probable qu'elle les trahirait de toute façon dès qu'elle avait un autre motif, mais pour l'instant ils étaient tous relativement du même côté. La simulation s'est terminée par une convocation pour Washington, d'après ce qu'elle allait rassembler, il n'avait pas d'A.I. et il était probable qu'il en obtenait un. Elle lui souhaite silencieusement de la chance alors qu'elle le regardait partir. "Hé Gamma," dit-elle en convoquant l'A.I. Comme elle a commencé à sortir du terrain, "Ils ont dit quelque chose sur les capacités, ils ne parlent pas de ce que vous A.I.s faire., sont-ils?" « Non, ils ont activé les capacités spéciales propres à chaque ensemble d'armure Freelancer. Vous avez été informé de cela, vous avez la technologie active de camouflage intégré dans votre costume. En outre, mes capacités sont actives en tout temps, si vous choisissez de les utiliser. » La petite figure sur son épaule l'a informée. -- Eh bien, je ne le serai pas. Elle a craqué, son ton défensif et serré. "Ce n'est rien de personnel mais pour l'instant je pense que c'est mieux que je ne le fasse pas. Invisibilité, c'est vrai, j'ai utilisé quelque chose comme ça il y a quelques années dans une mission, j'espère qu'ils ont amélioré la technologie. Ça n'a pas bien marché à l'époque, la mission s'est approchée du sud. Le commandement pensait vraiment que j'étais un gonner." "Évidemment, vous avez survécu et réussi, votre dossier indique que vous n'avez jamais échoué à une mission. J'ai le sentiment que même le disque étendu que j'ai été autorisé à télécharger, il y a encore beaucoup de choses qui me manquent. » Même par cette voix robotisée, il était clair qu'il cherchait de l'information. L'Ohio soupira : « J'ai travaillé pour beaucoup de personnes différentes Gamma, c'est le problème de ne pas s'installer avec une équipe ou dans une division, on se déplace et on s'en sert beaucoup. Non seulement la compilation de toutes ces informations de différentes sources est un cauchemar logistique, mais certaines d'entre elles ne peuvent jamais être enregistrées. Mes missions ont également été un hodgepodge de toutes sortes de choses, ce ne serait pas beaucoup d'un dossier cohérent de toute façon." L'Ohio avait erré dans une sorte de salle d'observatoire qui surplombait les différentes salles d'entraînement, un panneau de contrôle brillait doucement de l'autre côté de la salle. Il semblait que les agents avaient une certaine capacité à contrôler les simulations, mais comme le directeur et le conseiller n'étaient pas là, il était probable qu'ils avaient leur propre centre de contrôle principal. "Mon instinct me dit de commencer à chercher les autres agents mais ce n'est pas une de mes missions et nous utilisons des noms de code pour une raison. Je serais prêt à parier qu'il y a beaucoup plus pour la plupart de ces gens que de rencontrer l'œil. Vous ne vous retrouvez pas dans un programme comme celui-ci à moins que vous ne vouliez vraiment l'être ou que vous n'aviez vraiment pas le choix. » Gamma a hésité un moment avant de reprendre sa monotone robotique, "Agent Ohio si vous voulez vraiment trouver des informations, je pourrais être d'une certaine aide. Je n'ai pas été complètement honnête dans mes capacités, j'ai une certaine capacité à posséder la technologie. Je pourrais trouver des informations dans les systèmes informatiques à bord si vous téléchargez mon programme. J'espère que vous ne direz rien au réalisateur?" "Tu ne me fais pas confiance," s'est-elle moquée, "Tu sais déjà que je ne dirai rien." Elle s'est arrêtée un moment, debout à une fenêtre sur un champ de tir où l'un des autres agents s'entraînait déjà. "Alors vous pourriez aimer posséder un réservoir et l'utiliser par vous-même?" "Oui, c'est une seule demande." "Ou prendre le contrôle d'un système informatique et faire semblant de ne pas être un A.I." "Ce serait aussi possible." "C'est bon à savoir, on gardera ça pour nous. Je ne pense pas qu'il soit temps de commencer à renifler les autres squelettes, pas avant que les miens ne soient bien enterrés." Elle a dit tranquillement, son ton plus froid et raide, « Nous sommes un meilleur match que je ne l'avais prévu, jusqu'à ce que nous nous trahissions l'un l'autre. » Gamma a agi comme pris à dos comme un hologramme glitchy pourrait, "Ohio croyez-moi quand je dis-" "Cut la merde, c'est qui nous sommes tous les deux, nous sommes du même côté maintenant mais dès que nous voulons des choses différentes, nous ne serons pas. Ni l'un ni l'autre ne sont des sacrificateurs, nous prenons juste des choses et prenons des choses jusqu'à ce que nous soyons pris ou que nous obtenions ce que nous voulons. » "Pour un agent menteur de l'Ohio, vous dites la vérité plus souvent qu'on ne le penserait." Il a attendu un moment pour une réponse mais l'Ohio n'a rien dit et après un autre moment de silence, il a demandé, "Si je peux demander à l'agent Ohio, dans quel groupe de freelance êtes-vous, ceux qui n'ont pas le choix ou ceux qui ont fait le choix?" L'agent Ohio soupira comme s'il cherchait une réponse, "Quand quelqu'un dans ma ligne de travail reçoit un message disant qu'il n'a pas de missions dans un avenir prévisible avec une suggestion de rejoindre un programme comme celui-ci, vous faites ce qu'il veut. C'est une question de loyauté. Je suppose que vous n'avez aucune connaissance du livre Catch 22, n'est-ce pas?" Elle n'a pas attendu une réponse : « En gros, je veux vivre, mais la seule façon de le faire, c'est de rejoindre un programme qui me tuera probablement, le point est que je ne peux pas gagner. » Les processeurs de Gamma semblaient mâcher cela, donc il n'a pas répondu, l'Ohio a continué à regarder l'agent Maine, "Bon coup celui-là, doute qu'il ait des compétences de gens, il n'est activement pas socialisant." "Agent Ohio, je ne peux m'empêcher de voir l'hypocrisie dans cette hypothèse." Gamma a commenté clairement. L'Ohio a roulé les yeux à l'intérieur de son casque et est resté silencieux parce que le truc stupide de petit robot avait raison.

Full name: Elizabeth Fenster Code name: Ohio Gender: Female Age: 28 Implanted A.I.: Gamma Armour Ability: Chameleon Armour Appearance: Armor: Without Armor: Elizabeth stands at just over 5 feet 6 inches and for her size has considerable strength, her build reflects this. Her hair is tied up in a tight bun when training or in the field. Personality: Like Elizabeth's armor, she is a social chameleon, changing to create her desired social dynamic. Despite her tendency to alter her behavior she is generally very confident and opinionated, she loves a good argument but tends to distort facts or change them completely. How far her lies go depends on how much she thinks she can get away with in a given situation. She indiscriminately uses people as tools, with no distinction or protection from this for familial or romantic relationships. However she is by no means ruthless about any of her maneuvers, she will use anyone but she also can enjoy their company for reasons other than their usefulness. In fact, Elizabeth is critical of that aspect of people like her, they tend to throw away or abuse anyone who isn't contributing to their ulterior motive. She sees this as narrow minded and needless limiting of her tool set, her preference to maintain a status of being well liked also turns her away from acting like others of a more manipulative personality. Like her IA Elizabeth is quite the liar and only tells the truth when it suits her, she's never failed a polygraph test (even though those are bogus) and its truly impossible to tell what she really believes and whether she is lying. She has this ability to sound completely convinced in what she is saying and is quite persuasive on top of that. Ironically, she likes to build a reputation of being honest, calling a bad situation like it is, not being afraid to stand up for whatever her current values are, giving her 'honest' opinion, this generally establishes her as a resource of honesty which she pairs with painting everyone and everything else as untrustworthy. In tandem these techniques usually give her a reasonable amount of manipulative control on others. History: Elizabeth was actually born in an affluent family, the kind that sends their kids to college to be doctors or lawyers and live long, safe, boringly wealthy lives. War be damned, this family was going to look out for itself. Elizabeth was to be no exception, attending a prestigious school with plans to enter politics. She even had internships lined up where she would be working rather high up in the Unified Earth Government, the people there saw a bright future for her. A vision she once shared but in her junior year of college, this changed. Suddenly, and to many she knew, without reason she needed to leave it all behind. Only an idiot would assume there was really no reason but whatever happened or whatever she had seen wasn't leaving her lips without a fight. Her parents were rather distraught but she did not notice this as she did not ever ask or listen to their opinion, this was the theme with most people who approached her about her choice. Something had changed and those people could feel it but they couldn't place it, she acted the same, she wasn't angry or upset but she was still different. These connections she had made though did not go completely to waste, she managed to get herself into special ops training right off the bat. As a young girl with no formal military training, those she had persuaded to get her placed did not expect things to go well, they expected her to either give up and come back or settle for something easier. Elizabeth did neither, and though the combat did come slower to her, she was much better than many had even thought she would be at theory and stealth. Over time it became clear her combat skills were decent but her prowess was in her espionage skills. Many of her special ops deployments were to investigate corruption or other allegations in a clandestine manner. A job many would abhor, the idea of ratting out fellow service members, did not bother Elizabeth at all. Her role expanded to be that of an assassin, specifically one who could infiltrate a following, eliminate the target, and supplant leadership, in order to hand over control of the situation to the UNSC. Elizabeth has seen little conflict in the actual war and her battles have been waged against other humans, a fact she is aware of and as such keeps her past role under wraps. She also keeps these secrets because many of these operations never existed and if they were to exist it would be due to her acting as free agent and not in any relation to or under orders by the UNSC. It was recently suggested to her that her talents would be useful in the Freelancer Project, she agreed and was swiftly placed into the program. To her colleges she's created the image of a gifted recon agent and guerilla fighter but there are cracks and she figures its only a matter of time that someone figures out what she really does, if they haven't already. After all she's not the smartest person there but she's the best liar. Weapon Loadout: - (x2) M6C Handgun with 2 extra clips - (x2) Standard Combat Knife - 2 smoke grenades - Hard Sound Rifle (because she loves bees) Fighting Style: Elizabeth openly lets others fight her battles, she not the strongest and she's not the biggest but she does what she can. She tends to go for guerilla tactics. Her marksmanship is good but shes no prodigy, and she often has to make her hand to hand opponents tire themselves out because she can not physically overpower them. She is extremely patient and will wait as long as she has to for her perfect shot, even if that shot is actually a stab.

La Californie sourit alors qu'il entendait que l'exercice était maintenant terminé, en regardant le reste des robots baisser la puissance. La réponse immédiate de la Californie a été de prendre son casque, laissant sa barbe jaillir et scintiller ses cheveux en arrière. "Woo!" Il s'est exaspéré dans l'exaspération. "Damn, c'était un bon exercice!" Le freelancer a commenté. Il roula les épaules en sortant, se frottant le menton du coup du robot. Chi a finalement montré sa forme à la Californie, assis sur son épaule. Chi ressemblait à une jeune fille aux cheveux longs, complètement rouge et légèrement visible. "Ça avait l'air de faire mal?" Chi a noté, en regardant la Californie. "Hmm... eh bien, pas autant qu'il aurait dû. Avant le projet, ça m'aurait mis à froid." Il m'a expliqué. "Avez-vous quelque chose à voir avec ça?" La Californie a demandé. La fille s'est un peu perplexe. "En quelque sorte. Je veux dire, tu es comme... un super soldat maintenant donc tu as les augmentations biologiques et l'armure n'est pas faite de mastic non plus, c'est un métal dur que tu as encaissé toi-même. L'IA a expliqué. Il semblait que l'IA californienne ne partageait pas le dialecte « professionnel et sans ton » commun que possédaient la plupart des autres AI. "Mais je t'aide aussi. On m'a dit que je t'avais... euh... de l'adrénaline, oui! Et cela vous hype vers le haut et, ainsi dit mes données, peut engourdir une certaine douleur aussi bien." "Oui, l'adrénaline fait ça." Il répondit alors qu'il s'éloignait du champ d'entraînement. Il a bien regardé ses nouveaux coéquipiers. Tous selon les livres militaires hardasses pour lui. Ils voudraient tous s'en tenir aux « plans » et n'apprécieraient pas sa passion pour la « lutte contre l'improvisation » comme il aime l'appeler. "Quoi? Tu ne les aimes pas?" "Est-ce que tu viens de dire ce que j'étais... jamais pensé. Je ne vais pas poser de questions sur ce que je ne comprends pas. Et non, Chi. Ce n'est pas que je ne les aime pas. Ils sont tous capables et probablement juste un peu de temps avant de se réchauffer les uns les autres... mais ils ne m'apprécieront probablement pas. On m'a dit que j'étais... téméraire..." La Californie a admis. "Ouais... vos dossiers, maaaaay l'ont mentionné." Chi gloussait. Arthur a lâché. "Eh, peu importe." La Californie a ri. Il a vu un freelance qu'il n'a pas vu sur le terrain. Bizarre... il a vu tous ceux qui ont participé... mais pas celui-ci (). "Chi, qui est cette dame?" "Je ne sais pas, je n'ai que des données sur vous. Je pense que c'est le Freelancer de Zeta. Mais c'est tout ce que je sais. Les AI ne sont plus autorisés à se parler." Chi l'a dit tristement. "Huh, semble contre-productif de faire ça... vous vous en êtes dérangé?" Cali a demandé. Chi s'est contenté de hocher la tête. "Huh, merde, je vais lui parler." Il s'est dit avant de courir et de agiter sa main. "Ouais! Armure de reconnaissance!" Il a appelé, en utilisant le seul élément de description qu'il pouvait reconnaître. "Vous, euh, n'avez pas reçu le mémo? Il y avait un truc de formation que le directeur avait commandé?" Il lui demanda d'accrocher son casque entre le bras et la poitrine.

Full name: Arthur Jones Code name: California Gender: Male Age: 22 Implanted A.I.: Chi- Excitement= Increases adrenaline, reflexes and speed during combat situations. Causes the user to become more aggressive and charge head first into combat. Armour Ability: Disruption Personality: California has two sides. Out of combat, Arthur is a friendly face around the quarters, who greatly enjoys conversation and very hospitable to the other team members. However, on the field, California becomes a force of destruction, always looking for the "Scorched Earth" option, much preferring blasting his way through the front door than stealth operations. He greatly enjoys training in all physical manners, and loves to practice hand to hand combat, wanting to prove that he is the strongest without any kind of boosters. He loves to ensue chaos amongst the enemy ranks, sending them into disarray as he rips and tears through them. However, his greatest passion is vehicles. He is a vehicle specialist and can pilot almost anything from warthogs, scorpions to hornets too. However, if he can dispose of it, it is most likely that you will find him soaring into the enemy base, surfing a mongoose as he fires blindly into the enemies, roaring triumphantly. History: The Bear used to be a mercenary, shooting for the highest bidder and asking questions later. He was captured by UNSC forces at 17 after a mission gone wrong, and his contractor hired him to steal from a UNSC supply depot. He was caught carrying out ammo cache's with one of his cohorts. After being arrested, the Bear was kept for a year before a deal was struck. Volunteer for the Freelancer Programme or be sentenced to death for crimes against the UNSC and carrying out mercenary military contracts. The choice was obvious. Arthur accelerated at all physical exercises, especially strength focused ones. As boots on the grounds go, Arthur was one of the best. However, his reckless behaviour from being a mercenary carried through, and in simulations, heading straight first into danger was his only plan of attack, much like an ODST drop pod. Sooner or later, the idea of stealth and tactics (as well as a respect for authority) was hammered into him somewhat, and through that, he got pretty handy with a combat knife. He also became extremely proficient in heavy weaponry, learning the ins and outs of weapons like Spartan Lasers, chainguns, Hydra Lauchers, Railguns and his favourite, the SAW. However, while also in the training simulations, Arthur found a knack for vehicles, and outside of simulations he was also seen in the vehicle bays, looking over every intricate part. Right now, his pride and joy is the "Chariot Of Fire". A custom Rocket Hog that he is working on, wanting to make it the fastest, most destructive warthog out there. California is now a true Spartan, and his recklessness only ever comes to play when his teammates are in danger. He will follow orders with maximum efficiency and brutality. When you need siege, demolition and pure strength to punch through, the Bear is your call. Weapon Loadout: Advanced SAW with lower fire rate but projectiles have a proximity-fused high explosive warhead. Commonly known as "The Answer". Custom Paintjob. Secondary weapon is a Sentinel class DMR with sentinel sight and silencer. Also carries a combat knife for CQB and stealth skills. He also has two M9 grenades and selects breaching explosives accordingly for missions. Fighting Style: "CHAAAAAAAAAAAARGE!!!"- California's fighting style leaves a lot to be desired in terms of finesse. His love of heavy duty equipment such as heavy weapons and vehicles ensures brutal punishment to the enemy, either relentlessly sieging from afar or tearing through a corridor with a spray of rounds from "The Answer." One thing Arthur isn't is quiet. Well, he prefers not to be. He is capable of stealth but it is not his go to method. In close combat, Arthur deploys a boxing/wrestling approach, involving a lot of heavy strikes and grapples.

Votre combat laisse beaucoup à désirer, a déclaré l'IA Omega en quittant la zone d'entraînement ", Peut-être que je devrais être jumelé à une personne avec de meilleures compétences." "Oh, peut-il y en avoir," Montana s'est cassé en arrière, l'IA donnant un huff d'ennui en réponse ", En plus de broyer le métal n'est pas la même chose que broyer les crânes. Vous verrez que je suis la meilleure option." « En effet, nous verrons », l'IA a mis fin à la conversation. "Vous n'êtes qu'un rayon de soleil," a grondé Montana alors qu'il a déménagé dans le couloir ", Eh bien, au moins la seule chose que je peux vous créditer avec Omega est que vous n'êtes pas le type bavard." Quand il n'a pas reçu de réponse, Montana a décidé de mieux essayer de converser avec l'un des autres freelances. Il a décidé de se déplacer jusqu'à ce qu'il tombe sur un de ses coéquipiers. Il est finalement entré dans une salle d'observatoire. Ici, il y avait un autre freelance, essayant brièvement de se rappeler qui c'était il a fini par frapper sur le nom le match de l'armure. "Envie de vous rencontrer ici, Ohio", a-t-il salué en marchant dans la chambre.

Full name: Zeke Code name: Montana Gender: Male Age: 31 Implanted A.I.: Omega - Increases hand to hand and weapon handling skill. Increases aggression in the user. Armour Ability: Super Strength Appearance (Armor): Apperance (Out of Armor): Still looking... Personality: Zeke is a hard-ass type of guy, it doesn't necessarily means he doesn't have a sense of humor but most of the time he is straight to the point and doesn't sugar coat things. If things look bad, he is going to be the guy to admit that shit is about to hit the fan and not everyone is going to make it rather then try and be optimistic. Yet despite his hard nature, he enjoys poking his comrade's buttons and has a sense of humor that lies under the hard exterior, though whether or not that sense of humor is safe for his comrades is harder to answer, he has been known to let a live flash grenade loose in their rooms to see how fast they can scramble away from it before it goes off. He doesn't understand why he is the only one who finds it funny. XD History: Hard to imagine a dropout could find his way to the freelancer program. He dropout of college sick and tired of the grind and joined the UNSC despite his parents protests, figuring he would want more out of life then being a 'dumb grunt' described by his father. He gave them the bird and out the door he went to start a new life as a soldier. It was no cakewalk though and at first Zeke barely scraped by to make it even into the army but he wanted to prove to everyone that he was more then just some dumb grunt and kept pushing himself, trying to be the best of the best. He was eventually moved over to work in an ODST unit, though his hopes of serving on Reach when the covenant attacked never came true, he still saw his fare share of battles within his unit where he soon got know for being a hardcase with his superiors. He got the job done for the most part but there were complaints of disobeying directives and reckless endangerment though no one was ever killed. Perhaps this was what eventually got the attention of those who ran the freelancer program. His dedication to get the job done by any means necessary would be considered a valuable assist to the program for those missions that were balls to the walls so to speak. So now there he was a Freelancer, after ten years of working to show the people at home he was more then a grunt, he stood at the top with some of the best of the best, now he just tries to show he can be even better then them while playing the practical joke here and there that may or may not threaten the safety of those around him. Weapon Loadout: -M45D Tactical Shotgun aka "Scorn" as Zeke likes to call it, it's his pride and joy so to speak, been with him since day one and if anyone else besides him touches it, well they are going to see how hard he can hit before they can say 'sorry'. -MA5D Individual Combat Weapon System -M6H Personal Defense Weapon System -x2 Frag Fighting Style: Up close and personal. He's built like a tank, takes a licking but keeps on ticking so to speak. (He's like the Kool-Aid man but on steroids. XD) He doesn't use a knife though when he gets up close, instead he likes to duke it out with his fists when bullets just don't cut it. Theme Song (because why the heck not): Other: N/A

Alors que l'Utah marchait vers la sortie, elle a entendu quelqu'un lui crier dessus. Elle regarda la Californie, la freelance qui la gérait largement par les grandes portes en métal. Il a ensuite demandé à Zeta. Zeta, qui est-ce? Les données sont insuffisantes... Utah regarda ensuite par-dessus son épaule pour voir l'autre freelance, l'Iowa, toujours à l'intérieur de la zone d'entraînement faisant son chemin vers la sortie. Qu'est-ce qu'il a? Les données sont insuffisantes... Eh bien, n'êtes-vous pas utile?... Ah putain je vais juste leur parler; après cela, voyons si cet endroit a une maison de tueur. Le sarcasme de l'Utah ne semblait pas déranger Zeta. Zeta était plus du type réservé d'IA, qui comprenait pas être très bavard, mais quand il est descendu à elle, Utah et Zeta a fait un bon match. Oui, j'ai entendu, j'étais juste là-haut... L'Utah a pointé sa position antérieure avec sa main libre, tout en accouchant son DMR avec l'autre. Elle se mit à marcher alors qu'elle continuait à discuter avec la Californie. C'était un bon endroit pour regarder l'action de... Ses mots brouillaient de sarcasme, un contraste frappant avec son comportement sérieux il y a quelques instants. En brouillant sa déclaration précédente, elle étendit rapidement sa main vers la Californie, en guise de salutation. D'ailleurs, le nom Utah n'est pas "Recon Armour".

Full Name: Jay Farraday Gender: Female Codename: Utah Age: 23 Armor Ability: Super Agility Implanted AI: Zeta, Known for causing nightmares, has a sadistic personality for instilling fear in others, incredibly easy to work with if you like causing psychological damage and can overcome personal fears and nightmares. Before Freelancer After Freelancer Color Scheme = Steel Primary, Sage Secondary Helmet = Mjolnir VI/S with HU/RS Attachment Chest = Tactical/Recon Shoulders = Recon Knee Guards = FJ/Para Out of Armor Personality: Jay is mostly uptight. Time is of the essence and should not be wasted to her as she is extremely efficient. She is stoic, composed and mostly keeps to herself. She avoids being competitive; rather, she gets sick thrills out of watching her enemies suffer in whatever way she sees fit. The objective of her mission always comes first to her, however, and will forgo her “Fun”. Her mentality is highly cynical as she shares a very sarcastic view of the world, along with a twisted sense of humor that is rarely displayed towards others (It usually comes out in terms of bad puns). --Jay Farraday on the night it went all wrong-- Jay Farraday was already part of the German Special Forces on Earth, and was then selected by Naval Special Warfare command as she fit the requirements needed for ODST assignment. She finished her training with above average performance, and went on to participate in otherwise classified UNSC operations against the insurrection. She and her squad were then assigned as an asset to ONI in a reconnaissance mission on an insurrectionist stronghold. The mission went terribly sideways, and went loud relatively fast. Only she made it out alive, covered in blood and psychologically traumatized. ONI, not wanting to let the dirty secrets of their operations leak out, threw Farraday under the bus and labeled her a traitor to the UNSC. She was then transferred to a UNSC Correctional Installation where she stayed waiting for her Court-Marshal, until Freelancer got her on their radar. Weapon loadouts M392 DMR (I’ll just call it DMR in short) M45 Tactical Shotgun M6C/SOCOM (Also known as the M6 Silenced in ODST) The Good ol’ Combat Knife Grenades: 2x Frag 2x Flash Fighting Style: Jay Farraday likes taking her time with killing from range but she isn’t scared to take the fight up close and personal with her previous ODST hand to hand training and weapon set. She also likes toying with her targets when she isn’t pressed for time. Theme Song --Freelancer Tribute--

Washington s'est réveillé dans sa chambre, se sentant désorienté et groggy. Il s'est fait masser la tête. Quand il s'est levé, il a remarqué un mouvement au bout de son lit. Pour trouver son arme, il l'a entraînée au bout de son lit. "Sortez, ou vous allez être dans beaucoup de douleur" Une petite réplique bleue de lui-même est apparue. Il avait exactement la même armure qu'il avait mais n'était pas plus grand qu'un verre Pinte. "Hé, désolé, je ne voulais pas te faire peur. Mon nom est Epsilon." L'œil de Washington était grand ouvert quand l'homme bleu disparut et réapparut sur son épaule. "Le directeur m'a implanté à l'intérieur d'une petite puce située à l'arrière de votre tête. Tu peux si tu veux m'enlever quand tu veux. Cependant, le directeur dit que c'est une mauvaise idée. Ça ne te fera pas de mal, c'est juste que le directeur veut qu'on soit dans ta tête tout le temps. Il les a aussi fait activer vos costumes. Vous, mon ami, avez la capacité de la téléportation. Vous pouvez déplacer vous-même ou des objets à travers des espaces. Ça marche dans un rayon d'environ un mille. S'il vous plaît soyez conscient que vous ne pouvez pas téléporter de gros objets ou plus d'une personne si vous essayez plus d'une vous pourriez finir par laisser des choses derrière. Comme les jambes ou les organes internes." Washington sourit alors qu'il remettait son armure. "A noté Epsilon. Je crois qu'on va s'entendre très bien." "Hé Epsilon? Est-ce que ma tête est censée faire autant de mal? C'est comme si quelqu'un battait mon casque avec un lugehammer". Il a réussi à sortir de sa chambre. Quelques employés ont quitté le chemin alors que Washington s'est cogné les épaules avec eux. "Désolé" Epsilon a parlé d'un ton gai féminin. "Ne t'inquiète pas, mon pote, la douleur est juste ton subconscient et la mienne devient une seule. Il va vous permettre de vous rappeler beaucoup de souvenirs que votre cerveau ne peut normalement pas cependant-" Un cri de division de l'oreille rempli son oreille, Washington s'est écrasé par la porte de la cantine frapper sur une poubelle comme il a crié dans la douleur. Le bruit s'est arrêté aussi soudainement qu'il avait commencé. Son oreille sonnait, Washington s'approcha lentement et douloureusement de ses pieds. "Epsilon? Tu es là, mon pote?" Une voix a soudainement rempli sa tête. "Mais monsieur, vous n'avez aucune idée des effets que cela aura sur l'A.I.. L'A.I. vous a été confié. Il allait vous aider dans vos recherches." Washington a reconnu la voix suivante, elle appartenait au directeur. « C'est bien le caporal qu'on m'a confié. Pas toi, pas lui. Moi! Tu fais bien de connaître ta place. Préparez l'architecte. J'ai déjà eu le projet freelancer accepté par le conseil d'administration. Je veux l'A.I. prêts." Puis il y eut le silence. Washington était maintenant couché contre le mur de la cantine. Epsilon est apparu. "Désolé pour ce Wash, a dû redémarrer. Une sorte de bug dans mon système. Ça devrait être parti maintenant. Laver? Ça va." "Je viens d'entendre des voix dans ma tête" Epsilon s'est tu un instant. "Alors je t'aurai réservé pour voir le docteur..." "Je ne suis pas fou! Ce que je voulais dire, c'était. J'ai entendu le réalisateur parler à quelqu'un dans ma tête, à propos de quelque chose appelé l'Architecte" Epsilon était à nouveau silencieuse, mais cette fois-ci, quand elle parlait sa voix était pleine de statique et son discours était lent comme si chaque mot était un mile. "L'Architecte, je reconnais ce nom pour une raison quelconque. Mais je ne peux pas mettre mon doigt dessus." Washington soupirait. "Vous n'avez pas de doigts. Ça n'a pas d'importance. Comme tu l'as dit, c'était juste un bug et ça ne devrait pas se reproduire. Allons chercher quelque chose à manger." En regardant le bac qu'il avait renversé, il a pointé vers le premier membre du personnel qui est entré. " Allez, l'homme ramasse ce bordel que tu as fait!" L'homme confus a commencé à nettoyer le désordre qu'il pensait avoir fait alors que Washington marchait jusqu'à la cantine servant la zone de chuckling comme il l'a fait.

Name: Jacobs Huntington Codename: Washington Age: 27 Gender: Male Armour Ability: Teleportation Implanted A.I.: Epsilon - Increases awareness and heightened senses by increasing the amount of stimulus the brain can take. Epsilon yearns for knowledge and will cause his implanty to become more studious. Appearance: Personality: Jacobs is an optimistic guy who always sees the funny side of a dangerous situation. He hates being wrong and doesn't appreciate being corrected (Even when he is wrong). Jacobs can be very cocky and overestimate an opponent, situation or even his own skills. Taking on tasks that are far too difficult for him alone, he can be very stubborn and will not admit when he needs help or even ask for it. Even with all this he keeps his head and always thinks about the objective and how to achieve it. History: Jacobs had an ordinary childhood, nothing truly special. Brought up on military drills and weapon stripping he has known nothing but UNSC and the pride he would bring his family fighting for the UNSC. His family were quick to distrust the Elites joining humanities caused and this xenophobia rubbed off on Jacobs. Once he was of age he was shipped straight off to the nearest UNCS barracks to begin his training. Fast forward several years and Jacobs found himself fighting an innumerable foe know as the flood and in charge of his own six man squad. Called the greatest threat to the galaxy Jacobs fully understood why. During one particular battle in which Jacobs and five other men had to protect and hold a comms array Jacobs finally saw the elite in a positive light. During the fighting Jacobs lost all of his men too the monstrous creatures with his back against the wall he saw his fellow soldiers rise up and turn on him. Seeing no way out he pulled the pin on a grenade and held it to what was left of his helmet. Before he could finish himself the Elite reinforcements arrived in a rain of plasma fire. Throwing the grenade into the horde he watched as the Elite forces swept through the sea of flood systematically slaughtering this great threat. With the threat eliminated Jacobs thanked the Elites for their help. A few months later he was put forward for the Freelancer Project. Weapon loadout: MA2B Assault Rifle with built in bayonet. M319 Individual Grenade Launcher. M6H Pistol. Combat Knife. x3 Fragmentation Grenade. x2 Flash Grenades Grenades. Fighting Style: Jacobs fights up close and personal using his personalised Assault rifle mixed with his large variety of martial arts.

L'Ohio avait été silencieusement admirant et jugeant les capacités de Maine quand l'approche un peu boisée du Montana a attiré son attention. L'Ohio a regardé loin et a essayé de correspondre à des couleurs d'armure pour faux noms pendant une seconde avant de prendre un peu de conjecture. "Hé, Montana, c'est ça?" Elle a hurlé dans sa direction et s'est arrêtée une seconde en penchant la tête sur le côté avant de continuer, "Je ne sais pas ce que vous avez fait pour être coincé avec le nom de code Montana mais je suis désolé pour vous." Elle riait doucement, "Au moins, ils ne collaient personne avec la Floride, pourrait être pire." L'Ohio s'appuya sur le rebord de la fenêtre, regardant en arrière dans la zone d'entraînement. « Je dirais qu'ils ont choisi des gens assez intéressants pour diriger cette petite expérience scientifique. Regardez M. Overachiever en bas, vous vous entraînez déjà. C'est un sacré bon tireur, mais je ne vois pas comment pratiquer ça encore et encore va le rendre meilleur à n'importe quoi d'autre." C'était comme si elle parlait surtout à elle-même alors qu'elle continuait à regarder, "Penser que je devrais aller là-bas?" Elle a regardé le Montana, elle avait déjà pris sa décision mais a demandé pour le bien des plaisanteries.

Full name: Elizabeth Fenster Code name: Ohio Gender: Female Age: 28 Implanted A.I.: Gamma Armour Ability: Chameleon Armour Appearance: Armor: Without Armor: Elizabeth stands at just over 5 feet 6 inches and for her size has considerable strength, her build reflects this. Her hair is tied up in a tight bun when training or in the field. Personality: Like Elizabeth's armor, she is a social chameleon, changing to create her desired social dynamic. Despite her tendency to alter her behavior she is generally very confident and opinionated, she loves a good argument but tends to distort facts or change them completely. How far her lies go depends on how much she thinks she can get away with in a given situation. She indiscriminately uses people as tools, with no distinction or protection from this for familial or romantic relationships. However she is by no means ruthless about any of her maneuvers, she will use anyone but she also can enjoy their company for reasons other than their usefulness. In fact, Elizabeth is critical of that aspect of people like her, they tend to throw away or abuse anyone who isn't contributing to their ulterior motive. She sees this as narrow minded and needless limiting of her tool set, her preference to maintain a status of being well liked also turns her away from acting like others of a more manipulative personality. Like her IA Elizabeth is quite the liar and only tells the truth when it suits her, she's never failed a polygraph test (even though those are bogus) and its truly impossible to tell what she really believes and whether she is lying. She has this ability to sound completely convinced in what she is saying and is quite persuasive on top of that. Ironically, she likes to build a reputation of being honest, calling a bad situation like it is, not being afraid to stand up for whatever her current values are, giving her 'honest' opinion, this generally establishes her as a resource of honesty which she pairs with painting everyone and everything else as untrustworthy. In tandem these techniques usually give her a reasonable amount of manipulative control on others. History: Elizabeth was actually born in an affluent family, the kind that sends their kids to college to be doctors or lawyers and live long, safe, boringly wealthy lives. War be damned, this family was going to look out for itself. Elizabeth was to be no exception, attending a prestigious school with plans to enter politics. She even had internships lined up where she would be working rather high up in the Unified Earth Government, the people there saw a bright future for her. A vision she once shared but in her junior year of college, this changed. Suddenly, and to many she knew, without reason she needed to leave it all behind. Only an idiot would assume there was really no reason but whatever happened or whatever she had seen wasn't leaving her lips without a fight. Her parents were rather distraught but she did not notice this as she did not ever ask or listen to their opinion, this was the theme with most people who approached her about her choice. Something had changed and those people could feel it but they couldn't place it, she acted the same, she wasn't angry or upset but she was still different. These connections she had made though did not go completely to waste, she managed to get herself into special ops training right off the bat. As a young girl with no formal military training, those she had persuaded to get her placed did not expect things to go well, they expected her to either give up and come back or settle for something easier. Elizabeth did neither, and though the combat did come slower to her, she was much better than many had even thought she would be at theory and stealth. Over time it became clear her combat skills were decent but her prowess was in her espionage skills. Many of her special ops deployments were to investigate corruption or other allegations in a clandestine manner. A job many would abhor, the idea of ratting out fellow service members, did not bother Elizabeth at all. Her role expanded to be that of an assassin, specifically one who could infiltrate a following, eliminate the target, and supplant leadership, in order to hand over control of the situation to the UNSC. Elizabeth has seen little conflict in the actual war and her battles have been waged against other humans, a fact she is aware of and as such keeps her past role under wraps. She also keeps these secrets because many of these operations never existed and if they were to exist it would be due to her acting as free agent and not in any relation to or under orders by the UNSC. It was recently suggested to her that her talents would be useful in the Freelancer Project, she agreed and was swiftly placed into the program. To her colleges she's created the image of a gifted recon agent and guerilla fighter but there are cracks and she figures its only a matter of time that someone figures out what she really does, if they haven't already. After all she's not the smartest person there but she's the best liar. Weapon Loadout: - (x2) M6C Handgun with 2 extra clips - (x2) Standard Combat Knife - 2 smoke grenades - Hard Sound Rifle (because she loves bees) Fighting Style: Elizabeth openly lets others fight her battles, she not the strongest and she's not the biggest but she does what she can. She tends to go for guerilla tactics. Her marksmanship is good but shes no prodigy, and she often has to make her hand to hand opponents tire themselves out because she can not physically overpower them. She is extremely patient and will wait as long as she has to for her perfect shot, even if that shot is actually a stab.

Washington avait fini la montagne de nourriture qu'il avait préparée pour lui-même et avait été sur la préparation d'une autre assiette quand l'interphone est venu à la vie. La voix du directeur pouvait être entendue par l'interphone. « Tous les agents doivent se présenter immédiatement à la salle de réunion. C'est tout" Les épaules de Washington sont ensanglantées. Essuyant sa bouche, il remit son casque sur sa tête, Epsilon disparut aussi de la table. « Eh bien, les gars, il semble que le puissant directeur ait appelé sont les yeux et les oreilles dans la salle de briefing. Mieux vaut ne pas le décevoir." Il s'est levé du banc, a tendu le bras derrière la tête et s'est cogné. "Allons-y, alors. Epsilon où est la salle de réunion?" La voix d'Epsilons cria en réponse. "Mettre à jour ton HUD maintenant. Winking à l'intérieur de son casque, il a suivi le point rouge qui est apparu devant lui. "Merci Epsilon." Il n'a pas fallu longtemps à Washington pour arriver à la salle d'information, et il a trouvé la chambre vide. Il n'a pas fallu longtemps pour que la chambre se remplisse d'agents. Une fois que tout le monde était là, le directeur et son bras droit, le conseiller est entré dans la pièce. La chambre est devenue calme. "Bon après-midi agents du Projet Freelancer. Nous mettons actuellement à jour vos I.A. avec le mémoire de la mission ainsi que l'emplacement de votre objectif. Vous partirez à 22 heures et commencerez votre mission. C'est tout, vous êtes renvoyé. Le directeur et le conseiller ont quitté la scène, laissant la pièce tranquille pendant un moment, alors que tous les A.I. ont expliqué les détails de la mission. "Alrighty Agent Washington a obtenu une mission difficile qui vient de mes calculs il ya une; 20% chance que vous pourriez mourir. Mais n'y pensons pas. La mission est simple; les forces insurgées ont attaqué la centrale sur la planète de recherche Delta-6B, elles ont saboté et désactivé le réacteur nucléaire et ont peut-être surchargé le noyau de réacteurs à des niveaux critiques. Leur objectif principal semble être de perturber l'installation de recherche située sur la planète. Nous devons stabiliser le réacteur et sauver tous les survivants que nous découvrons, en éliminant toute menace à la mission qui pourrait survenir. Il y a plusieurs personnages clés impliqués dans cette attaque : George Relph : Les insurgés Deuxième au commandement, il est un homme mortel qui est habile dans de nombreux arts martiaux différents. Simmons Westford : Un hacker bien connu. Recherché pour les cybercrimes ainsi que pour le terrorisme. Finalement, il y a Beth, un Mercenaire doué de l'épée de l'énergie de l'alliance. Elle est connue pour avoir utilisé la technologie extraterrestre au combat et est peut-être la plus dangereuse du lot. En dehors de cela, il y a probablement une force d'une centaine d'insurgés armés de divers types d'armes ainsi que des capacités d'armure de Freelancer. Il semble que l'agent Washington soit votre responsable de cette mission. Il vaut mieux y aller et parler aux troupes! Washington hoche la tête En entrant sur scène, il demande aux agents d'écouter. " Hey, je suis l'agent Washington et comme vous avez entendu que je suis responsable de cette mission et moi, j'ai un plan! La seule façon de battre ces gars, c'est de travailler en équipe. Je pense qu'une approche furtive est nécessaire avec une aspersion de distraction et de chaos pour rendre la partie furtive plus facile. Maine vous serez le support de Overwatch et Sniper. Votre travail sera de garder un oeil sur nos positions ennemies et aussi le nôtre. Nous nous séparerons en deux groupes. Moi-même, l'agent California, l'agent Montana et l'agent Ohio se dirigeront vers le réacteur et s'assureront qu'il est stabilisé en retournant à l'installation et à ses défenses. Le centre de recherche exploite une équipe de Skeleton d'environ 12 scientifiques qui utilisent des robots semblables à ceux que nous avons luttés pour la défense et le travail manuel. Une fois le pouvoir rendu, nous chercherons le scientifique. Le reste d'entre vous travaillera à distraire et à détourner l'ennemi du réacteur. C'est vous l'agent Iowa et l'agent Utah. Une fois les défenses récupérées, les robots devraient aider à faciliter le recul des insurgés et à les forcer à quitter la planète ou à les essuyer. » Respirant profondément, il regarda les agents. "Des questions?"

Name: Jacobs Huntington Codename: Washington Age: 27 Gender: Male Armour Ability: Teleportation Implanted A.I.: Epsilon - Increases awareness and heightened senses by increasing the amount of stimulus the brain can take. Epsilon yearns for knowledge and will cause his implanty to become more studious. Appearance: Personality: Jacobs is an optimistic guy who always sees the funny side of a dangerous situation. He hates being wrong and doesn't appreciate being corrected (Even when he is wrong). Jacobs can be very cocky and overestimate an opponent, situation or even his own skills. Taking on tasks that are far too difficult for him alone, he can be very stubborn and will not admit when he needs help or even ask for it. Even with all this he keeps his head and always thinks about the objective and how to achieve it. History: Jacobs had an ordinary childhood, nothing truly special. Brought up on military drills and weapon stripping he has known nothing but UNSC and the pride he would bring his family fighting for the UNSC. His family were quick to distrust the Elites joining humanities caused and this xenophobia rubbed off on Jacobs. Once he was of age he was shipped straight off to the nearest UNCS barracks to begin his training. Fast forward several years and Jacobs found himself fighting an innumerable foe know as the flood and in charge of his own six man squad. Called the greatest threat to the galaxy Jacobs fully understood why. During one particular battle in which Jacobs and five other men had to protect and hold a comms array Jacobs finally saw the elite in a positive light. During the fighting Jacobs lost all of his men too the monstrous creatures with his back against the wall he saw his fellow soldiers rise up and turn on him. Seeing no way out he pulled the pin on a grenade and held it to what was left of his helmet. Before he could finish himself the Elite reinforcements arrived in a rain of plasma fire. Throwing the grenade into the horde he watched as the Elite forces swept through the sea of flood systematically slaughtering this great threat. With the threat eliminated Jacobs thanked the Elites for their help. A few months later he was put forward for the Freelancer Project. Weapon loadout: MA2B Assault Rifle with built in bayonet. M319 Individual Grenade Launcher. M6H Pistol. Combat Knife. x3 Fragmentation Grenade. x2 Flash Grenades Grenades. Fighting Style: Jacobs fights up close and personal using his personalised Assault rifle mixed with his large variety of martial arts.

Après s'être levé jusqu'à ses pieds, étranglant légèrement à l'action de glisser autour, étant balayé autour par des humanoïdes mécaniques et de riposter au feu, le tout clair a été alarmé dans l'ensemble de l'installation, indiquant que l'exercice était effectivement terminé. Il a pris une longue et profonde respiration pour signifier son soulagement. Autant qu'il aimait tirer sur de gros robots dans la tête, ça n'avait pas de sens pour lui. En fait, il valait la peine d'évoquer, mais beaucoup trop d'Agents avaient déjà fait place à la sortie avant qu'il n'ait eu la chance de trouver le partenaire de dispute parfait. C'était un peu triste. L'Iowa a vite été laissé comme l'un des derniers agents, sinon les derniers, toujours en train d'attendre quelque chose à faire. Ils étaient tous partis rapidement, et donc, il était là. Il n'était pas sûr de ce qu'il devait faire, mais alors qu'il commençait à marcher lentement vers la sortie, il commença à se parler à haute voix. Ce n'était pas un cri fort, plus comme un bruit tranquille pour lui-même. Bien que beaucoup puissent l'erreur pour une conversation avec son AI, ce n'était pas pour commencer. L'Iowa a trouvé du réconfort en se parlant parfois, car cela lui a permis d'entendre à quoi il ressemblait. S'il savait à quoi il ressemblait, il pourrait juger si son idée ressemblait ou non à de la merde absolue ou à une marche au gâteau. "Je veux dire... Robots... Robots fucking, gros et inhumains robots. Pourquoi s'entraîner contre les robots alors qu'on est une unité anti-terroriste? Nous luttons contre les individus ayant des compétences individuelles. Bien sûr, un robot peut s'adapter à mon propre style de combat, ou n'importe qui est vraiment, mais un humain a son propre style. Et quelqu'un avec son propre style est utilisé à un avantage. Et nous sommes moins susceptibles de faire face à quelqu'un qui se tanke littéralement comme un Mantis Bipedal Mech qu'un homme qui a un déclencheur de détonation nucléaire dans le bout de ses doigts." Son AI, Sigma, était prompt à intervenir. C'était bien de le faire, de lui donner cette information supplémentaire et de parler éthique pour l'empêcher de devenir un jeune homme solitaire et anxieux. "Agent Iowa, puis-je vous informer de votre comportement plus... tout-puissant? Vous n'avez pas l'air à l'aise. Je devrais peut-être vous présenter le département de la relaxation. Ou peut-être un camarade à qui parler? Je pense que vous devriez apprendre à connaître vos partenaires de travail dès que po-" "S'ils voulaient me connaître, ils auraient marché vers moi pour commencer. Tout le monde sait que je suis nul pour entrer directement dans la discussion." Il a marché, DMR s'est accroché sur le dos et des armes de poing sur ses étuis à jambes. Il aimait la nouvelle armure, vite. "Et pour l'agent Washington? Le directeur l'appelle... Je parie que c'est un prodige pour l'équipe... Son murmure était faible et modéré. S'il y avait une chose que l'Iowa avait ramassée au sujet de son opinion sur la guerre, c'était que les héros n'étaient pas quelque chose qui pouvait être donné si facilement. Si le directeur allait louer un agent nommé capitale et s'attendre à ce que tout le monde regarde vers eux comme un héros de guerre, alors Iowa pourrait aussi bien se mettre la tête dans le cul de Wash. Un héros était une cible dans le grand jeu qui était la guerre, et avoir une telle notoriété à la fois de vos ennemis et amis était juste un set-up pour cibler ou trahir.Sûr, il était plus habile que l'Iowa. Tout le monde était probablement plus habile que l'Iowa. Tous avaient un entraînement militaire d'élite, ou du moins la plupart d'entre eux. Et ceux qui n'ont pas combattu dans des situations majeures et suicidaires chaque semaine pour s'opposer aux menaces des terroristes, des insurrectionnistes et du Pacte tout-puissant. L'Iowa, par contre, n'était qu'un garçon élevé par un groupe rebelle. Ce n'est que dans les dernières semaines de leur existence que l'Iowa s'est familiarisé avec les tactiques conventionnelles, mais elles n'ont mené qu'à la défaite critique qui avait fait capturer l'Iowa en premier lieu. C'était encore un mystère pourquoi quelqu'un de son passé, de ses compétences, de ses capacités et de son état d'esprit a été choisi pour une organisation et un projet aussi importants. Il continua à marcher, tournant légèrement la tête vers les petites paires d'agents joyeux, sérieux, plaisants et réguliers conversant les uns avec les autres. Personne n'était libre ou n'était engagé dans une conversation. Raison parfaite pour repousser l'Iowa de sa propre introduction. Aucun de ces gens ne voulait le connaître, n'est-ce pas? >La salle de réunion... Il est entré comme l'un des derniers à entrer dans la pièce. Heureusement, la réunion n'avait pas commencé. Ce n'était pas trop bondé, car une petite équipe avait été choisie à la main pour cette mission. C'était gênant, dans une certaine mesure. L'Iowa s'est retrouvé dans une chambre de gens qu'il avait accidentellement renversé pendant l'entraînement. Ils ont peut-être plus utilisé leur temps que l'Iowa. Mais au front, bien sûr, était le petit ange du directeur, Washington. Il a entendu sa présentation. Et bien sûr... c'était le chef d'équipe. C'était inévitable, mais il fallait qu'il y aille. Il n'y avait aucune option pour faire des ennemis dans sa seule chance de survie. L'Iowa plié les bras et se coucha à l'arrière de la meute, écoutant ses paroles. Les insurgés... et ce qu'il ferait. Évidemment, la distraction serait à lui. Mais il devrait conclure un accord avec qui que ce soit. L'agent Utah pourrait être quelqu'un de son genre, vu qu'ils ont été sélectionnés pour exécuter une tâche qui crie naturellement des distractions non conventionnelles. De plus, quelqu'un qui aime faire sauter des trucs pour attirer l'attention est toujours une bonne personne. Washington a demandé s'il y avait des questions, et rapidement, l'Iowa a été le premier à répondre. « Oui, j'en ai quelques-uns... Tout d'abord, pouvons-nous avoir quelques informations sur qui sont ces insurgés, en tant qu'organisation? Je préférerais savoir qui on tue plutôt qu'être aveuglément demandé de tirer sur quelqu'un. Deuxièmement, une distraction? Tu veux que je fasse un bruit? Faire une explosion? Faire un piège? Faire un petit switcheroo avec le déjeuner de quelqu'un? Se déguiser en femme et les séduire comme un mauvais film? Je préférerais la deuxième et la troisième option, ou est-ce que je suis limité? Et troisièmement... Est-ce que nous avons tous une chance de jouer Leader ou est-ce toujours un M. Follow. La machine à laver à partir de maintenant?" L'humour avait été utilisé pour couvrir certaines de ses préoccupations. S'ils n'allaient pas faire la distraction d'une manière appropriée, quelque chose dans lequel il savait qu'il était un expert, et peut-être l'Utah était aussi bien s'il savait qui ils étaient, alors ça pourrait aussi bien ne pas arriver. Ils ne pouvaient pas causer trop de dégâts, mais ils ne pouvaient pas causer trop peu. Plus précisément, qui allaient-ils tirer? L'Iowa avait toujours eu des inquiétudes au sujet de la chasse aux insurgés. Un jour... un jour, ils allaient chercher qui il avait été élevé à l'intérieur. Il devait s'assurer... qu'il devait s'assurer...

Agent Iowa Full name Grant McGregory Codename Iowa Gender Male Age 27 Implanted A.I. Sigma Increases the user’s general abilities allows the user to mentally map out and simulate battle plans. Causes the user to be more cunning, manipulative and more creative. Armour Ability Jet-Suit Appearance Personality Whereas Grant hasn't been on the more optimistic side of life, he surely faces the realism of it. However, he enjoys sugar-coating his troubles with a sense of witty remarks and comedic, creative Operation methods. There aren't many times were Grant has seen a large, substantial amount of pride in his actions, but the odd here and there he'll celebrate whatever he finds amusing, witty or downright useful towards the given objective. Being more of a team-spirit kind of individual, due to his fighting styles, he's prone to depending heavily on other Agents on field, meaning solo operations or engagements can sometimes put a small deal of pressure and tension on him. Unfortunately, that also is a reason for him to get far too close to other members of his Unit, which isn't always ideal in Project Freelancer. Yet, within Project Freelancer, Grant has become more acceptable with killing other insurgents and targets than he would've done in his past. Background During the Great-War, Grant was brought up into a different style of life. Instead of fighting the Covenant or any other major threats, he made a living growing up within a Small Insurgent Cell that jumped between systems in order to sustain themselves. Though it does not provide the same military, extensive training, it features experience and training on the battlefield from small-scale firefights and sieges. Having started the arts of guerrilla warfare and unconventional combat tactics at a young age, he developed his way up towards the more important tasks his family and group had to offer. Within this Cell, Grant had gotten enough experience to learn that even in humanity's desperate times, they were still keen on killing one another in the background, having caused him to be involved in their acts originally. They didn't plan on making a massive difference, but they wanted to get their message across about humanity's violence and segregation between one another. The only way to know how to do that was to devise plans that only the UNSC would be familiar with, violence. It was contradictory, yes...But it worked out. For a while, at least. During recent months, an Operation to gather UNSC data in the hopes to convince them to pay attention to their demands and cries for help, which had been ignored for so long that the group had resorted to minor insurgency. Now, Grant was a difficult one to tackle. He completely supported the UNSC in their struggles against the Great War's threats, but he was in disagreement with their attention paid to the poorer colonies. Because of this conflict in compassion, when settled as a designated marksman for the Operation, he found himself only shooting the legs of targeted UNSC Personnel. However, this non-lethal decision had left him exposed to discovery, and a major conflict broke out during one of their objectives. Grant was lucky enough to engage in CQC well enough to eliminate two pursers, but could not prevent the force of the UNSC from catching up quickly. He was captured and held quietly. It was a short sentence, as he sat in regret for his total actions, before someone of a promised future bailed him out early. Though this background of insurgency hasn't left him very popular amongst his new ranks in Project Freelancer, the ones who freed him in favour of his cooperation, but he's managed to get used to the minor verbal abuse faced in his first days, weeks and months. Now, kitted out with his new armour, he is far more suited to fitting in as a Freelancer Agent, rather than an Insurgent. Weapon Loadout M392 Designated Marksman Rifle w/ extended barrel M6 Machine Pistol w/ Wrist Grip to attach onto Iowa, making it extremely difficult to drop or lose in combat. M6C Handgun Kukri Blade x2 Smoke Grenades x1 Fragmentation Grenade x1 Dud Grenade Fighting Style Preferred at Mid-Long Range by his peers, superiors and himself, Grant suits the role of a designated marksmen quite well. But from what he'd been brought up in alongside the arts of guerrilla warfare, he's been chosen as useful up-close, mainly with both blade and handgun. These mixed with his armour ability make for a unique and fast fighting style, but hand to hand combat isn't his greatest strength. Character Theme

Utah allait porter la conversation avec la Californie, mais avant qu'elle puisse continuer son introduction, elle a été interrompue par l'annonce du directeur. Elle a fait son chemin vers la salle de briefing seulement pour la trouver pleine de Freelancers. Elle scannait les autres Freelancers et leur armure, tandis que les mots du directeur sonnaient dans tout l'endroit. Ils étaient faciles à comprendre et assez simples, et les objectifs étaient assez simples. Elle regarda Washington sur le front et prononça son annonce de leadership. L'Utah n'était pas une personne à interroger l'autorité, mais elle a roulé les yeux à Washington, quelqu'un qui ne pouvait même pas suivre les robots d'entraînement de retour dans la sim. Il était imprudent et têtu. Elle a remis en question sa capacité de leadership, mais en fin de compte le plan semblait bon, en outre, elle ne se souciait pas trop d'avoir un partenaire. Son seul souci était le moyen de distraction, qui, si trop lourd était sûr d'apporter toutes sortes d'enfer sur eux, et si il était trop léger, il ne porterait pas beaucoup d'attention non plus. Elle regarda le reste de ses coéquipiers et tout d'un coup il lui apparut. Ces personnes n'étaient pas ODST, ces personnes n'étaient même pas des soldats professionnels ; elle ne savait pas s'il s'agissait de la crème de la crème ou quelques bums le programme Freelancer ramassé. Soudain, ses préoccupations se sont élargies : et si les autres Freelancers échouent? Et si son partenaire n'était pas à la hauteur? Et si... Ses pensées ont été écourtées alors que l'Iowa a commencé une certaine commotion sur Washington étant le leader oh-so-glorifié. Elle ne savait pas que c'était son partenaire, tout ce qu'elle savait c'était que c'était l'agent qui se moquait de quitter la zone d'entraînement. Elle se demandait pourquoi il était si consciencieux de savoir qui ils allaient se battre, n'était-ce pas juste une bande de ragtags envoyés pour faire des missions sans aucune question? L'Utah a commencé. Quel est notre plan B quand les choses tournent mal? Je veux dire, je sais que nous sommes tous des "badasses" à ce que nous faisons, mais je pense que certains d'entre nous sont familiers avec ce qui se passe quand vous obtenez votre bite tout pris. C'est beaucoup de responsabilité et d'argent. Elle a livré la plaisanterie contraceptive avec le ton du sarcasme moqueur juste après que l'Iowa a donné à Washington le surnom affectueux machine à laver.

Full Name: Jay Farraday Gender: Female Codename: Utah Age: 23 Armor Ability: Super Agility Implanted AI: Zeta, Known for causing nightmares, has a sadistic personality for instilling fear in others, incredibly easy to work with if you like causing psychological damage and can overcome personal fears and nightmares. Before Freelancer After Freelancer Color Scheme = Steel Primary, Sage Secondary Helmet = Mjolnir VI/S with HU/RS Attachment Chest = Tactical/Recon Shoulders = Recon Knee Guards = FJ/Para Out of Armor Personality: Jay is mostly uptight. Time is of the essence and should not be wasted to her as she is extremely efficient. She is stoic, composed and mostly keeps to herself. She avoids being competitive; rather, she gets sick thrills out of watching her enemies suffer in whatever way she sees fit. The objective of her mission always comes first to her, however, and will forgo her “Fun”. Her mentality is highly cynical as she shares a very sarcastic view of the world, along with a twisted sense of humor that is rarely displayed towards others (It usually comes out in terms of bad puns). --Jay Farraday on the night it went all wrong-- Jay Farraday was already part of the German Special Forces on Earth, and was then selected by Naval Special Warfare command as she fit the requirements needed for ODST assignment. She finished her training with above average performance, and went on to participate in otherwise classified UNSC operations against the insurrection. She and her squad were then assigned as an asset to ONI in a reconnaissance mission on an insurrectionist stronghold. The mission went terribly sideways, and went loud relatively fast. Only she made it out alive, covered in blood and psychologically traumatized. ONI, not wanting to let the dirty secrets of their operations leak out, threw Farraday under the bus and labeled her a traitor to the UNSC. She was then transferred to a UNSC Correctional Installation where she stayed waiting for her Court-Marshal, until Freelancer got her on their radar. Weapon loadouts M392 DMR (I’ll just call it DMR in short) M45 Tactical Shotgun M6C/SOCOM (Also known as the M6 Silenced in ODST) The Good ol’ Combat Knife Grenades: 2x Frag 2x Flash Fighting Style: Jay Farraday likes taking her time with killing from range but she isn’t scared to take the fight up close and personal with her previous ODST hand to hand training and weapon set. She also likes toying with her targets when she isn’t pressed for time. Theme Song --Freelancer Tribute--

Maine avait quitté la salle d'entraînement quand Delta l'avait informé qu'il y aurait une réunion pour leur première mission. Il se demande à quel type de missions ils seront affectés, bien qu'il doute qu'ils soient des gouttes de mission ODST en solo comme il le ferait avant. Non, il semblait qu'ils feraient une opération tactique à plus grande échelle. Le directeur n'avait pas grand-chose à dire, et ça a quitté Delta en lui donnant le briefing de mission. Bien que légèrement différent des autres, en raison de son AI spécifiquement donné l'information, il savait tout ce qu'il avait besoin de savoir. "C'est assez simple. On dirait qu'ils ont un bel arsenal qui vient avec eux. Une seconde au commandement, un hacker, et un soldat spécialisé. Je veillerai sur eux sur la mission, je tirerai dessus et je les tuerai si je peux." "Ce serait très sage, agent Maine. Mais rappelez-vous, ces cibles de grande valeur seront fortement gardées. Tu devras les attraper de garde. Le hacker se cachera probablement dans l'un des bâtiments, ce qui rendra l'accès plus difficile. Cependant, l'élimination de ces figures clés va certainement influencer la marée de la bataille. » "Affirmatif Delta. Autre chose que je devrais savoir?" "Il semble que cet homme de Washington dirige l'accusation, je suppose." "Je suppose que ça a dû choisir quelqu'un. Je devrais probablement écouter ce qu'il a à dire." Le plan semblait assez simpliste, pas trop compliqué stratégies ou tactiques à l'esprit. Il ne s'attendait pas à y être, ils se connaissaient à peine. Il serait surveillant, ce qu'il s'attendait à être dès le début. Il se demandait où il serait posté, si cela serait du ciel, d'une partie supérieure du réacteur, ou d'une certaine distance plus haut. Une fois qu'il a su où ça n'avait pas d'importance, sa vision éhontée et son fusil de sniper l'aideraient à s'occuper du reste. Espérons que les autres pourraient s'occuper de leur travail, et Maine n'avait pas à passer par cinq clips pour sauver des gens et tuer des gens qu'ils ne pouvaient pas. S'assurer qu'il connaissait tous les mouvements ennemis, les a repérés, etc. Maine faciliterait leur vie, mais c'était à eux de s'acquitter de leur tâche. L'agent Maine s'est ébranlé la tête quand deux personnes ont décidé de parler, de parler ça et ça et d'être des connards irrespectueux. Ce n'était pas une façon de parler au leadership, et s'ils étaient dans l'armée, ils le connaîtraient. Des remarques intelligentes et des pleurnichers t'ont mené nulle part. "L'homme voulait dire des questions pour le bien de l'ordre, pas des garces et des pleurniches de la galerie des cacahuètes. Si vous demandez comment faire votre travail et ce que vous devez faire lorsque les choses tournent mal, vous n'êtes évidemment pas assez compétent pour faire votre travail et le faire correctement. Vous êtes censés être des soldats d'élite, et le travail pour vous deux est une distraction. Le travail le plus facile. Si entre vous deux, vous n'avez pas assez de cellules cérébrales pour accomplir votre tâche par vous-mêmes et arrêter votre garce, je suis désolé. Nous n'avons pas besoin de connaître tout le mantra pour notre ennemi. On nous a assigné une mission, et nous l'exécutons. Je me fiche que les autres soient un groupe de charité. Vous avez choisi d'être ici d'une façon ou d'une autre, donc vous devez faire ce que votre commandant vous demande et ne pas les questionner. Vous êtes un soldat. Quant au leadership, grandissez. Ce n'est pas vous les gars, c'est lui. Ils l'ont choisi pour une raison. De toute évidence, vous n'êtes pas assez compétents pour vous diriger, et encore moins une équipe. Tu es censé être le meilleur des meilleurs... commencer à agir comme ça, pas comme un tas d'adolescentes. Maintenant, à moins d'avoir des questions utiles, arrêtez de vous faire mal et craignez de bien faire votre travail. »

Full name: James Lockhart "Iceman" Code name: Maine Gender: Male Age: 23 Implanted A.I.: Delta - Logic - Green. Delta grants Iceman better reasoning skills, able to "slow down time" essentially in his head to make the most logical, optimal, and efficient choices. Side effects include lacking sympathy or empathy, logic taking over emotion. Armour Ability: Tactical vision Appearance: Personality: James suits his A.I. well, as he is more of a man of logic and reasoning than anything else. He makes friendships because they are beneficial, not because he particularly enjoys people. It's not like he's a complete asshole or anything, but if you need something from him and it's not in his best interest and won't benefit him, he won't do it. He won't save you in a fight unless you're worth saving, but on the flip side he won't kill you unless he feels it's necessary. Granted this may make his morale scale a little out of whack, he's not some axe murderer either. He's cold, cunning, calculating, out for himself and only himself. And in battle, he always is level headed and has been known to think and be one step ahead. This is why he is the Iceman. History: James never knew his parents, or any parents for that matter. His biological ones put him up for adoption because they were too poor, casting him out to an orphanage. It was in a rough city, so as you could imagine, bullying and the more than occasional beatings were in order. Food was spread thin, you had a room like a jail sell, and it was a miracle if somebody smuggled a toy in. In a world like this you only looked after yourself, and it was survival of the fittest every day. Kids did die in that place, and only the lucky ever got adopted. James wasn't so lucky. Instead, he made his own luck. Through his life and going into his teen years, James would sneak out of the orphanage and steal from people and stores outside the city, getting whatever he could. Cards, toys, food and water, money, cigarettes. Anything of value. It took a while, and some close calls, but James got handy at climbing rooftops, sneaking down alleys, stealing, pick pocketing, conning. Running away and hiding. And occasionally getting beat up too. Shot once or twice. When he did get the items however, he bartered inside the orphanage, traded, gambled. Sometimes he would make alliances with other kids that would mutually benefit them. After playing the game for a while, James lived more comfortably than most, and was well known in and out of the orphanage. Then he turned 18. Knowing that he barely had schooling and no money, the best option for him was to join the military. After passing the physical exams with flying colors, he was enlisted in the UNSC as a sniper. He was the top marksman in his class, and with a rifle he could shoot a dime off a clothespin. After many successful missions, he was promoted to ODST, where he would drop either in small squads for tactical missions or solo for recon and assassination missions. The mission before he was recruited to a freelancer project, he was set on a mission leading a squad of four to do reconnaissance on a small outpost. It was a normal mission, and usually one of the less eventful ones, but the ODST was sent because there were rumors of the flood overtaking the now abandoned outpost. Well, it wasn't abandoned. After a sweep of the place, the squad was suddenly ambushed. Not by the flood however... it was the covenant. Five ships had surrounded the outpost and elites swarmed into the place. It was a trap. The group fled to loading dock to try to get to the ship before they were gunned down, except James refused to go with them and climbed up to the top of the rafters. He knew that the covenant would have already destroyed and looted their ship, and it was fruitless to try and get to it before hand. The squad had managed two fight through two ships worth, but full frontal assault on them was suicide. Watching his team die in front of him, he tried to figure a way out. After waiting several hours, he waited until the covenant were about to leave before making his move. After dispatching a few elite on one of the smaller ships, he piloted it in an attempt to escape. However, the other ships closed onto him, and he crash landed on an nearby planet with only minor injuries and fled the wreckage. Covenant ships touched down as the remaining crew was out for revenge. Holed up atop a cliff face outlooking the area, and with his rifle along with the rest of his gear, he managed to not only hold off the covenant, but killed them all, before taking one of their ships and fleeing safely. It wasn't an army by any means, there only being the two small ships worth of elites. It took a lot of stealth work, timing, planning, and chance... but it worked. Luck might have played a deciding role in this, but Iceman never believed in luck. He made his own. This is when he joined the Freelancer project, where he was assigned the name of a state that was just cold enough for the Iceman. Maine. Weapon Loadout: Model 99 Special Application Scoped Rifle, modified with a silencer, enhanced variable zoom, extended magazine, and a tri-pod. DMR with a grip, stock, silencer, and selective fire for fully automatic, three round burst, or single shot. Modified to reduce recoil. Black painted Bowie knife 2x frag grenades 2x smoke grenades Fighting Style: If you haven't already noticed from the bio, if you have read it or not, or simply looked at the weapons, you can tell Maine is particularly into long range engagements. He is quite confident in his sniping ability and he can handle most targets in that range, and likes to stay at that range. His field optics allow him to see mostly anything on the battlefield, even through walls (which his handy sniper can shoot through) as well as predict movements to more precisely hit his shots. A marksman through and through, he likes keeping his enemy at a distance. Bullets are very deadly and are good at killing people, hulk smashing somebody or going Bruce Lee on them is just stupid. He wants to be as far away as possible and shoot you before you even know he existed within a 5 km radius. However, this obviously isn't the case always. Overall he invests in a stealth first approach almost always, going into a situation with a plan and trying to outsmart and out strategize the opponent. If the engagement happens to get close, he resorts to the fully automatic DMR, and if too close and a built stealthier, the knife. In hand to hand combat he is average at best, as he doesn't do it a whole lot. However in this situation he would usually rely on cunning, such as getting the first blow in a sneak attack, somehow gaining an advantage, calculating the opponent's moves and looking for a clear cut opportunity. But through and through, in a fisticuffs match versus someone trained in hand to hand more than him or physically stronger than he, he is not going to be winning very easily. In fact, the best course of action against big scary people trying to, I don't know, stab him or beat him up might be running occasionally. Pick your battles, you know?

Avant que Washington n'ait eu la chance de reprendre ses paroles, quelqu'un d'autre a commencé à le questionner, mais de manière différente quant à ce que l'Iowa avait choisi. Il a présumé que c'était quelqu'un de l'équipe "Front" qui était avec Washington, mais il pouvait se tromper. Son ton était beaucoup plus moqueur que celui de l'Iowa, alors qu'il essayait de faire une blague à partir de préoccupations réelles qu'il avait, elle était un peu plus passive-agression à l'égard du ton. Et c'est là que M. Parfait. Sa voix était beaucoup plus profonde, râpée et presque sinistre que le ton moyen de l'Iowa. Cependant, il semble que la remarque de la femme ait changé la véritable intention et le ton derrière les questions de l'Iowa. Et donc, cet homme, a commencé à parler. Il a dit à quel point leur travail était le plus facile, comment ils n'étaient pas de bons soldats... Qui diable ce type pensait-il qu'il était? Plus précisément, est-ce qu'il savait quelque chose sur l'armée? Bien sûr, l'Iowa n'était pas issu d'un passé militaire officiel, en fait il était l'opposition à l'armée pour une grande partie de sa vie, mais même alors il savait qu'ils n'étaient pas comme ça. Ce serait illogique et faire beaucoup de place pour les erreurs. L'Iowa regarda vers lui; il parla d'un ton qui n'était ni snob, ni trop agressif. C'était une façon instructive de parler. Cependant, connaissant cette personne de la façon dont il avait réagi à ce qu'il a dit plus tôt, il l'aurait pris de la mauvaise façon et probablement utiliser son sniper pour obtenir ce que le joli petit tireur voulait. Ce n'était pas trop fort, permettant à Washington de continuer. "Uhm... Tout d'abord... C'étaient de sérieuses questions. Je ne sais pas si vous avez déjà entendu parler d'humour? Beaucoup de gens ici l'utilisent pour tirer le meilleur parti des moments. Ce sont là des questions très sérieuses. Je m'inquiète de la façon dont nous allons exécuter cette mission. Même le meilleur des soldats pose des questions, sinon c'est l'improvisation. Tu dois savoir comment faire pour éviter moins de complications. Si vous étiez un soldat, vous sauriez que beaucoup de leur personnel pose des questions pendant les briefings, sinon nous pourrions aussi bien être jetés dans la fosse du lion avec un bâton et dit d'atteindre la domination mondiale. Et pour obtenir des informations sur qui nous combattons, bien qu'en plus d'avoir une compréhension des insurgés, il vaut mieux connaître votre ennemi que de ne pas les connaître... En plus, j'ai des raisons personnelles. » Il a regardé autour de lui, en écoutant à moitié la réaction de Wash à l'égard de la femme qui s'est exprimée. Il a dû donner du crédit à Washington, il avait un tas de trous du cul comme lui-même et ce tireur parfait et solitaire. Un groupe typique d'inadaptés tous jetés dans la meute de loups, l'Iowa étant avec eux comme l'un des inadaptés. "Et je ne savais pas que vous aviez décidé de la difficulté de chaque tâche... Mais ça n'a pas d'importance si c'est le plus facile. Chaque rôle est important, donc rien n'a besoin d'être priorisé sur un autre si vous voulez qu'il aille comme la machine à laver veut qu'il aille. Et je fais ce travail, avec qui que ce soit, alors pourquoi ça devrait vous préoccuper de savoir si je veux savoir comment le faire? Tu ne fais pas déjà quelque chose de plus difficile et important? J'ai assez de cellules cérébrales pour demander comment notre leader le veut, pas comment vous voulez qu'il parte. Et si vous voulez donner à Washington ce leadership, vous devriez peut-être le laisser répondre aux questions que je lui ai adressées, pas à vous, toutes les questions que je veux vraiment connaître. Je suis désolé si je ne fonctionne pas comme la meilleure Elite comme vous, mais c'est comme ça que la vie fonctionne. Je ne serai pas la même que vous, donc... laissez-moi obtenir mes réponses, et puis le problème est résolu. Pas d'autres choses à débattre. Laissez-moi obtenir ce que Washington veut que je sache, alors c'est au revoir à cette conversation, parce que n'importe quel soldat Elite veut s'entendre avec son équipe, ne pas intervenir dans quelque chose qui ne les impliquait pas... »

Agent Iowa Full name Grant McGregory Codename Iowa Gender Male Age 27 Implanted A.I. Sigma Increases the user’s general abilities allows the user to mentally map out and simulate battle plans. Causes the user to be more cunning, manipulative and more creative. Armour Ability Jet-Suit Appearance Personality Whereas Grant hasn't been on the more optimistic side of life, he surely faces the realism of it. However, he enjoys sugar-coating his troubles with a sense of witty remarks and comedic, creative Operation methods. There aren't many times were Grant has seen a large, substantial amount of pride in his actions, but the odd here and there he'll celebrate whatever he finds amusing, witty or downright useful towards the given objective. Being more of a team-spirit kind of individual, due to his fighting styles, he's prone to depending heavily on other Agents on field, meaning solo operations or engagements can sometimes put a small deal of pressure and tension on him. Unfortunately, that also is a reason for him to get far too close to other members of his Unit, which isn't always ideal in Project Freelancer. Yet, within Project Freelancer, Grant has become more acceptable with killing other insurgents and targets than he would've done in his past. Background During the Great-War, Grant was brought up into a different style of life. Instead of fighting the Covenant or any other major threats, he made a living growing up within a Small Insurgent Cell that jumped between systems in order to sustain themselves. Though it does not provide the same military, extensive training, it features experience and training on the battlefield from small-scale firefights and sieges. Having started the arts of guerrilla warfare and unconventional combat tactics at a young age, he developed his way up towards the more important tasks his family and group had to offer. Within this Cell, Grant had gotten enough experience to learn that even in humanity's desperate times, they were still keen on killing one another in the background, having caused him to be involved in their acts originally. They didn't plan on making a massive difference, but they wanted to get their message across about humanity's violence and segregation between one another. The only way to know how to do that was to devise plans that only the UNSC would be familiar with, violence. It was contradictory, yes...But it worked out. For a while, at least. During recent months, an Operation to gather UNSC data in the hopes to convince them to pay attention to their demands and cries for help, which had been ignored for so long that the group had resorted to minor insurgency. Now, Grant was a difficult one to tackle. He completely supported the UNSC in their struggles against the Great War's threats, but he was in disagreement with their attention paid to the poorer colonies. Because of this conflict in compassion, when settled as a designated marksman for the Operation, he found himself only shooting the legs of targeted UNSC Personnel. However, this non-lethal decision had left him exposed to discovery, and a major conflict broke out during one of their objectives. Grant was lucky enough to engage in CQC well enough to eliminate two pursers, but could not prevent the force of the UNSC from catching up quickly. He was captured and held quietly. It was a short sentence, as he sat in regret for his total actions, before someone of a promised future bailed him out early. Though this background of insurgency hasn't left him very popular amongst his new ranks in Project Freelancer, the ones who freed him in favour of his cooperation, but he's managed to get used to the minor verbal abuse faced in his first days, weeks and months. Now, kitted out with his new armour, he is far more suited to fitting in as a Freelancer Agent, rather than an Insurgent. Weapon Loadout M392 Designated Marksman Rifle w/ extended barrel M6 Machine Pistol w/ Wrist Grip to attach onto Iowa, making it extremely difficult to drop or lose in combat. M6C Handgun Kukri Blade x2 Smoke Grenades x1 Fragmentation Grenade x1 Dud Grenade Fighting Style Preferred at Mid-Long Range by his peers, superiors and himself, Grant suits the role of a designated marksmen quite well. But from what he'd been brought up in alongside the arts of guerrilla warfare, he's been chosen as useful up-close, mainly with both blade and handgun. These mixed with his armour ability make for a unique and fast fighting style, but hand to hand combat isn't his greatest strength. Character Theme

Washington a été repris à toute la question. Alors qu'il était sur le point de répondre, il a commencé à entendre murmurer à son oreille cela ressemblait au conseiller. "Le directeur de l'unité échoue, tu pousses trop fort!" Qu'il a entendu le directeur "Quittez l'unité peut le prendre! Poussez plus fort!" Washington a été silencieux pendant un moment quand les voix lui ont laissé l'oreille. "Uh. Écoutez, les gars, le grade ne veut pas dire de la merde ici. Peu importe qui vous avez pu être à l'extérieur ici, nous sommes tous les mêmes. Sauf peut-être maintenant. Le directeur m'a mis en charge ici, donc je suppose qu'en ce moment je suis votre commandant." Washington a quitté la scène et a sorti une carte holo qui est apparue devant lui. "Maintenant, d'après ce qu'Epsilon m'a dit sur cet endroit a travaillé sur une sorte de source d'énergie expérimentale. Quelque chose qu'ils ont gagné pendant la technologie de l'alliance de guerre probablement. Les gens qui provoquent les distractions peuvent le faire dans tous les moyens qu'ils veulent, vous êtes le travail est de créer beaucoup de bruit et d'agir comme une distraction pour que nous puissions emménager et sécuriser le scientifique. Je m'occuperai moi-même du réacteur et je m'attends à ce que les deux soient avec moi pour assurer la sécurité. » La carte Holo montre un grand composé avec deux grands évents de vapeur derrière les évents est un grand bâtiment avec une entrée. Washington a signalé le grand bâtiment. "C'est là qu'il faut aller. Notre overwatch peut utiliser les évents pour une meilleure vue et pour une bonne couverture aussi, il y a des passerelles le long du sommet pour l'entretien. L'installation va profondément sous terre, alors attendez-vous à ce que mon équipage dépose le radar quand nous y serons. » Après que Washington eut expliqué la disposition, il se tourna vers la question. "Si la merde frappe le fan, je m'attends à ce que tous les hommes se lèvent et utilisent votre nouvelle armure. Rappelez-vous que nous avons l'avantage qu'ils n'ont pas nous sommes bien formés, dans des armures de classe spartan coûteux avec des améliorations et nous avons tous A.I. pour nous aider avec le combat. Quant à qui sont ces insurgés? Je n'en ai aucune idée, peut-être des gens qui essaient de causer des ennuis à la CSNU, mais je n'en ai aucune idée. Demandez au directeur s'il vous le dira." La voix de Washington s'est légèrement déformée comme il l'a dit la dernière partie. Washington a continué comme rien ne s'était passé "Nous serons déposés par avion à l'aide de nos armures verrouillées pour survivre à la chute, nous nous séparerons de l'équipe de distraction et attendrons qu'ils lancent leur attaque et que nous emménagions dans le bâtiment pour chercher les scientifiques. Surveillez que vous tomberez avec un parachute furtif." Washington a envoyé l'info des parachutes de Stealth au Maine. Le parachute furtif était essentiellement un parachute furtif qui permettait à l'individu d'arriver là où il devait se rendre rapidement et sans détection. "Quant à qui est le chef suivant? Fouillez-moi. D'autres questions?"

Name: Jacobs Huntington Codename: Washington Age: 27 Gender: Male Armour Ability: Teleportation Implanted A.I.: Epsilon - Increases awareness and heightened senses by increasing the amount of stimulus the brain can take. Epsilon yearns for knowledge and will cause his implanty to become more studious. Appearance: Personality: Jacobs is an optimistic guy who always sees the funny side of a dangerous situation. He hates being wrong and doesn't appreciate being corrected (Even when he is wrong). Jacobs can be very cocky and overestimate an opponent, situation or even his own skills. Taking on tasks that are far too difficult for him alone, he can be very stubborn and will not admit when he needs help or even ask for it. Even with all this he keeps his head and always thinks about the objective and how to achieve it. History: Jacobs had an ordinary childhood, nothing truly special. Brought up on military drills and weapon stripping he has known nothing but UNSC and the pride he would bring his family fighting for the UNSC. His family were quick to distrust the Elites joining humanities caused and this xenophobia rubbed off on Jacobs. Once he was of age he was shipped straight off to the nearest UNCS barracks to begin his training. Fast forward several years and Jacobs found himself fighting an innumerable foe know as the flood and in charge of his own six man squad. Called the greatest threat to the galaxy Jacobs fully understood why. During one particular battle in which Jacobs and five other men had to protect and hold a comms array Jacobs finally saw the elite in a positive light. During the fighting Jacobs lost all of his men too the monstrous creatures with his back against the wall he saw his fellow soldiers rise up and turn on him. Seeing no way out he pulled the pin on a grenade and held it to what was left of his helmet. Before he could finish himself the Elite reinforcements arrived in a rain of plasma fire. Throwing the grenade into the horde he watched as the Elite forces swept through the sea of flood systematically slaughtering this great threat. With the threat eliminated Jacobs thanked the Elites for their help. A few months later he was put forward for the Freelancer Project. Weapon loadout: MA2B Assault Rifle with built in bayonet. M319 Individual Grenade Launcher. M6H Pistol. Combat Knife. x3 Fragmentation Grenade. x2 Flash Grenades Grenades. Fighting Style: Jacobs fights up close and personal using his personalised Assault rifle mixed with his large variety of martial arts.

Maintenant, dans la salle d'information, le Montana a écouté la première opération sur laquelle ils partiraient. Au moins il semblait qu'ils étaient tous égaux sur cette mission moins celui qui allait appeler les coups de feu mais mieux que de traiter avec quelqu'un de haut qui pensait qu'ils étaient supérieurs à tous les autres. Montana ne pouvait pas étouffer le léger gémissement d'être apparemment placé dans le groupe furtif mais ne se plaignait pas, pourrait aussi bien montrer qu'il pouvait être flexible, même s'il voulait faire quelques trous à travers certains ennemis. S'il avait de la chance, il aurait peut-être quelques coups de cou. Au moins il pourrait essayer d'attendre ça avec impatience, s'il y a quelque chose. Une fois que l'agent Washington a fini de parler, c'était juste un jeu d'attente pour voir qui avait d'autres questions sur ce qui allait se passer.

Full name: Zeke Code name: Montana Gender: Male Age: 31 Implanted A.I.: Omega - Increases hand to hand and weapon handling skill. Increases aggression in the user. Armour Ability: Super Strength Appearance (Armor): Apperance (Out of Armor): Still looking... Personality: Zeke is a hard-ass type of guy, it doesn't necessarily means he doesn't have a sense of humor but most of the time he is straight to the point and doesn't sugar coat things. If things look bad, he is going to be the guy to admit that shit is about to hit the fan and not everyone is going to make it rather then try and be optimistic. Yet despite his hard nature, he enjoys poking his comrade's buttons and has a sense of humor that lies under the hard exterior, though whether or not that sense of humor is safe for his comrades is harder to answer, he has been known to let a live flash grenade loose in their rooms to see how fast they can scramble away from it before it goes off. He doesn't understand why he is the only one who finds it funny. XD History: Hard to imagine a dropout could find his way to the freelancer program. He dropout of college sick and tired of the grind and joined the UNSC despite his parents protests, figuring he would want more out of life then being a 'dumb grunt' described by his father. He gave them the bird and out the door he went to start a new life as a soldier. It was no cakewalk though and at first Zeke barely scraped by to make it even into the army but he wanted to prove to everyone that he was more then just some dumb grunt and kept pushing himself, trying to be the best of the best. He was eventually moved over to work in an ODST unit, though his hopes of serving on Reach when the covenant attacked never came true, he still saw his fare share of battles within his unit where he soon got know for being a hardcase with his superiors. He got the job done for the most part but there were complaints of disobeying directives and reckless endangerment though no one was ever killed. Perhaps this was what eventually got the attention of those who ran the freelancer program. His dedication to get the job done by any means necessary would be considered a valuable assist to the program for those missions that were balls to the walls so to speak. So now there he was a Freelancer, after ten years of working to show the people at home he was more then a grunt, he stood at the top with some of the best of the best, now he just tries to show he can be even better then them while playing the practical joke here and there that may or may not threaten the safety of those around him. Weapon Loadout: -M45D Tactical Shotgun aka "Scorn" as Zeke likes to call it, it's his pride and joy so to speak, been with him since day one and if anyone else besides him touches it, well they are going to see how hard he can hit before they can say 'sorry'. -MA5D Individual Combat Weapon System -M6H Personal Defense Weapon System -x2 Frag Fighting Style: Up close and personal. He's built like a tank, takes a licking but keeps on ticking so to speak. (He's like the Kool-Aid man but on steroids. XD) He doesn't use a knife though when he gets up close, instead he likes to duke it out with his fists when bullets just don't cut it. Theme Song (because why the heck not): Other: N/A

L'Utah n'a même pas reculé de sa position initiale, elle a réglé l'argument en arrière-plan et a attendu que l'équipe prenne la tête pour répondre, elle ne s'est pas vraiment souciée de ce que Maine pensait d'elle, elle ne le connaissait pas, il ne la connaissait pas, et elle a sa propre façon de faire les choses et si cela l'a énervé ainsi soit-il; de son expérience seulement le commandant obtient à patron tout le monde autour. Quand l'Iowa a fini de parler, elle allait répéter les questions mais Wash était juste un peu plus rapide, elle a écouté attentivement, apparemment le plan de sauvegarde était leurs augmentations d'armure, le plan était de tourner les chances en leur faveur. De plus, elle a réfléchi à quelque chose que Wash a dit : ce grade n'a pas d'importance, qu'ils sont tous les mêmes peu importe l'arrière-plan extérieur, elle a failli s'en moquer, 'ces gens sont les mêmes que moi? Pas une chance, il n'y a aucun moyen qu'ils sachent ce que j'ai traversé, n'est-ce pas? elle repoussa ses pensées et se recentra. Il y avait encore une question dans son esprit... "Une dernière chose, quel est le nom de code désigné par tout le monde? On leur a donné autant qu'on pourrait les utiliser." la façon dont elle a parlé cette fois était plus d'un comportement sérieux calme, la réflexion de Washington brillait sur sa visière bleu vif, dans son esprit la mission était la chose la plus importante, elle voulait connaître les noms pour être en mesure de communiquer efficacement avec son équipe, ses armes étaient prêtes pour le travail, ses pochettes remplies de munitions; elle allait « faire des amis » plus tard à la place.

Full Name: Jay Farraday Gender: Female Codename: Utah Age: 23 Armor Ability: Super Agility Implanted AI: Zeta, Known for causing nightmares, has a sadistic personality for instilling fear in others, incredibly easy to work with if you like causing psychological damage and can overcome personal fears and nightmares. Before Freelancer After Freelancer Color Scheme = Steel Primary, Sage Secondary Helmet = Mjolnir VI/S with HU/RS Attachment Chest = Tactical/Recon Shoulders = Recon Knee Guards = FJ/Para Out of Armor Personality: Jay is mostly uptight. Time is of the essence and should not be wasted to her as she is extremely efficient. She is stoic, composed and mostly keeps to herself. She avoids being competitive; rather, she gets sick thrills out of watching her enemies suffer in whatever way she sees fit. The objective of her mission always comes first to her, however, and will forgo her “Fun”. Her mentality is highly cynical as she shares a very sarcastic view of the world, along with a twisted sense of humor that is rarely displayed towards others (It usually comes out in terms of bad puns). --Jay Farraday on the night it went all wrong-- Jay Farraday was already part of the German Special Forces on Earth, and was then selected by Naval Special Warfare command as she fit the requirements needed for ODST assignment. She finished her training with above average performance, and went on to participate in otherwise classified UNSC operations against the insurrection. She and her squad were then assigned as an asset to ONI in a reconnaissance mission on an insurrectionist stronghold. The mission went terribly sideways, and went loud relatively fast. Only she made it out alive, covered in blood and psychologically traumatized. ONI, not wanting to let the dirty secrets of their operations leak out, threw Farraday under the bus and labeled her a traitor to the UNSC. She was then transferred to a UNSC Correctional Installation where she stayed waiting for her Court-Marshal, until Freelancer got her on their radar. Weapon loadouts M392 DMR (I’ll just call it DMR in short) M45 Tactical Shotgun M6C/SOCOM (Also known as the M6 Silenced in ODST) The Good ol’ Combat Knife Grenades: 2x Frag 2x Flash Fighting Style: Jay Farraday likes taking her time with killing from range but she isn’t scared to take the fight up close and personal with her previous ODST hand to hand training and weapon set. She also likes toying with her targets when she isn’t pressed for time. Theme Song --Freelancer Tribute--

"Nous utiliserons des noms de code standard pour l'opération. Si c'est toute la question, nous partirons à 19h00 donc préparez votre équipement et je vous verrai là-bas!" Washington a laissé le briefing pour calmer sa tête douloureuse et éclaircir son esprit pour la mission à venir. 18 heures Heureux que tout soit en ordre, il regarda la goutte Pelican qui les transportait. Il était équipé pour les gouttes d'orbite haute, il avait de nombreuses gousses attachées aux côtés et était presque deux fois la taille d'un pélican régulier, construit pour les déposer puis zoomer. En le regardant, il se rappelait à quel point il détestait Halo tomber. La force G de l'intestin et bien sûr l'écrasement, c'était sa partie la moins préférée. Alors qu'il imaginait l'idée de chuter à sa mort, le Conseiller est entré, alors que plusieurs ingénieurs s'arrêtaient pour saluer. "Bonsoir, agent Washington. Comment allez-vous aujourd'hui? Ah, c'est ça. Se préparer pour la mission alors je vois." Washington s'est tourné vers Le Conseiller, il n'était pas une personne pour saluer un supérieur, pas après ce qu'il avait vu dans la guerre contre le déluge. Washington n'aimait pas cet homme, quelque chose au sujet du conseiller était éteint. Il n'a pas pu mettre son doigt dessus. "Bonne soirée à vous aussi Maître. Je vais bien, je n'ai pas hâte de la chute de Halo. On n'a jamais fait confiance à ces seaux de métal qu'on a laissé tomber du ciel. Le conseiller s'est branlé légèrement, regardant son PDA, il l'a tapé quelques fois avant de répondre. "Nous avons eu quelques rapports que votre A.I. Il peut y avoir un défaut de fonctionnement. Avez-vous remarqué quelque chose d'irrégularité à ce sujet?" Washington a dit oui, mais ce qui est sorti était. -- Non monsieur, rien d'irrégulier du tout. "D'accord alors, nous garderons un œil sur vous juste au cas où. Ces A.I. sont expérimentaux, donc ils peuvent être un petit buggy. Il vaut mieux écraser ces bugs avant qu'ils ne deviennent un problème." Le conseiller est parti et a quitté la navette. Washington était une perte de mots. "Epsilon, qu'est-ce que tu viens de faire?" Epsilon apparut comme un mouton. "Je suis désolé Wash, je ne voulais pas que tu lui dises que je pourrais être défectueuse, il va m'arracher de ton crâne et m'enfermer à nouveau. Je ne pense pas pouvoir m'occuper d'être à nouveau seul avec ça." La voix d'Epsilons était pleine de terreur et Washington s'inquiétait beaucoup. "Facile là-bas Epsilon. Qu'est-ce que tu veux dire par tout seul avec ça? Avec les autres A.I.? Mais, vous êtes tous séparés alors pourquoi est-ce important?" Epsilons voix coupée et a été remplacée par des milliers de voix différentes parlant à l'unisson. "Je suis l'Alpha que je suis qui était, je suis ce qui a été détruit dans la douleur et la souffrance que j'ai été le Premier." Maintenant c'était au tour de Washington d'avoir peur. Les voix coupées laissent le son d'une femme qui pleure dans sa tête. "Umm, Epsilon? Ça va?" Les pleurs se sont évanouis, remplacés par la voix d'Epsilon : « Oui, pourquoi demandez-vous? Allez Wash, il est presque temps que la mission commence. Les drones que nous avons envoyés ont soumis un rapport sur l'emplacement actuel de l'ennemi. Beth est là, elle garde le périmètre avec quelques dizaines de rebelles. Cependant, en raison de la doublure de la salle Reactor, le drone a du mal à dire qui d'autre peut-être à l'intérieur du bâtiment." Washington s'inquiétait pour sa propre sécurité maintenant, Epsilon avait des dysfonctionnements majeurs et il n'y avait rien qu'il puisse faire. En le mettant de côté, il s'attaquerait à cette question après la mission. En ouvrant le coms, il a radioné tous les agents en route pour la mission. "C'est l'agent Washington pour tous les agents. La mission est a-go s'il vous plaît, faites votre chemin à la navette et préparez-vous à partir."

Name: Jacobs Huntington Codename: Washington Age: 27 Gender: Male Armour Ability: Teleportation Implanted A.I.: Epsilon - Increases awareness and heightened senses by increasing the amount of stimulus the brain can take. Epsilon yearns for knowledge and will cause his implanty to become more studious. Appearance: Personality: Jacobs is an optimistic guy who always sees the funny side of a dangerous situation. He hates being wrong and doesn't appreciate being corrected (Even when he is wrong). Jacobs can be very cocky and overestimate an opponent, situation or even his own skills. Taking on tasks that are far too difficult for him alone, he can be very stubborn and will not admit when he needs help or even ask for it. Even with all this he keeps his head and always thinks about the objective and how to achieve it. History: Jacobs had an ordinary childhood, nothing truly special. Brought up on military drills and weapon stripping he has known nothing but UNSC and the pride he would bring his family fighting for the UNSC. His family were quick to distrust the Elites joining humanities caused and this xenophobia rubbed off on Jacobs. Once he was of age he was shipped straight off to the nearest UNCS barracks to begin his training. Fast forward several years and Jacobs found himself fighting an innumerable foe know as the flood and in charge of his own six man squad. Called the greatest threat to the galaxy Jacobs fully understood why. During one particular battle in which Jacobs and five other men had to protect and hold a comms array Jacobs finally saw the elite in a positive light. During the fighting Jacobs lost all of his men too the monstrous creatures with his back against the wall he saw his fellow soldiers rise up and turn on him. Seeing no way out he pulled the pin on a grenade and held it to what was left of his helmet. Before he could finish himself the Elite reinforcements arrived in a rain of plasma fire. Throwing the grenade into the horde he watched as the Elite forces swept through the sea of flood systematically slaughtering this great threat. With the threat eliminated Jacobs thanked the Elites for their help. A few months later he was put forward for the Freelancer Project. Weapon loadout: MA2B Assault Rifle with built in bayonet. M319 Individual Grenade Launcher. M6H Pistol. Combat Knife. x3 Fragmentation Grenade. x2 Flash Grenades Grenades. Fighting Style: Jacobs fights up close and personal using his personalised Assault rifle mixed with his large variety of martial arts.

L'Utah a fini de se préparer à la mission avant tous les autres et était déjà sur le chemin du Pelican avant même d'ouvrir les comms. Ses armes de choix étaient chargées et Zeta était prête à l'aider dans la mission. "Zeta, tu as eu tous leurs noms?" Elle était impatiente de faire avancer la mission, et passait maintenant par ses vérifications finales. "Oui, le dossier a été réparé sur votre HUD maintenant." Zeta était aussi impatient, il voulait s'amuser. « Soyez prêt Z, quelque chose me dit que cette mission va être difficile. » Ils sont finalement arrivés au hangar où se trouvait Washington. Elle s'est arrêtée et a salué de façon normale la marine. "Permission de monter à bord, monsieur!" c'était propre et croustillant, typique d'une ODST, quelque chose qui n'avait pas changé depuis qu'elle a quitté Boot. Il suffit de montrer pourquoi elle a obtenu un diplôme avec des notes supérieures à la moyenne, plusieurs points plus élevés en fait, et sa performance était exmplary. Dans toute sa carrière, il n'y avait qu'un défaut dans son dossier, l'ONI.

Full Name: Jay Farraday Gender: Female Codename: Utah Age: 23 Armor Ability: Super Agility Implanted AI: Zeta, Known for causing nightmares, has a sadistic personality for instilling fear in others, incredibly easy to work with if you like causing psychological damage and can overcome personal fears and nightmares. Before Freelancer After Freelancer Color Scheme = Steel Primary, Sage Secondary Helmet = Mjolnir VI/S with HU/RS Attachment Chest = Tactical/Recon Shoulders = Recon Knee Guards = FJ/Para Out of Armor Personality: Jay is mostly uptight. Time is of the essence and should not be wasted to her as she is extremely efficient. She is stoic, composed and mostly keeps to herself. She avoids being competitive; rather, she gets sick thrills out of watching her enemies suffer in whatever way she sees fit. The objective of her mission always comes first to her, however, and will forgo her “Fun”. Her mentality is highly cynical as she shares a very sarcastic view of the world, along with a twisted sense of humor that is rarely displayed towards others (It usually comes out in terms of bad puns). --Jay Farraday on the night it went all wrong-- Jay Farraday was already part of the German Special Forces on Earth, and was then selected by Naval Special Warfare command as she fit the requirements needed for ODST assignment. She finished her training with above average performance, and went on to participate in otherwise classified UNSC operations against the insurrection. She and her squad were then assigned as an asset to ONI in a reconnaissance mission on an insurrectionist stronghold. The mission went terribly sideways, and went loud relatively fast. Only she made it out alive, covered in blood and psychologically traumatized. ONI, not wanting to let the dirty secrets of their operations leak out, threw Farraday under the bus and labeled her a traitor to the UNSC. She was then transferred to a UNSC Correctional Installation where she stayed waiting for her Court-Marshal, until Freelancer got her on their radar. Weapon loadouts M392 DMR (I’ll just call it DMR in short) M45 Tactical Shotgun M6C/SOCOM (Also known as the M6 Silenced in ODST) The Good ol’ Combat Knife Grenades: 2x Frag 2x Flash Fighting Style: Jay Farraday likes taking her time with killing from range but she isn’t scared to take the fight up close and personal with her previous ODST hand to hand training and weapon set. She also likes toying with her targets when she isn’t pressed for time. Theme Song --Freelancer Tribute--

Finalement, nous allons, Montana a déclaré qu'il a fait son chemin vers le Pelican, mettant son arme sur son dos ", le temps de casser quelques crânes, et de prendre quelques noms. " Juste penser à la mission l'a ramené à certaines de ses missions plus robustes qu'il a fait avant le programme. Une chose qu'il a fait après un meurtre s'il pouvait trouver le corps était de gratter le nom de l'ennemi dans le canon de son arme. Il doute qu'il ait beaucoup de temps pour le faire pendant cette mission, mais il pourrait encore essayer s'il y avait une accalmie dans la mission. « Aucune pitié pour les faibles », a simplement déclaré Omega lorsqu'ils ont atteint les autres, en rendant un salut à Washington bien que pas aussi net que l'agent Utah avait donné. Jusqu'à présent, il aimait Washington, mais s'il méritait ou non le respect d'être chef était quelque chose que le Montana était encore sûr et cette mission allait décider pour lui de ce qu'il ressentait pour les autres membres du programme. "Bon vieux halo goutte alors pour commencer le chaos? Il a toujours aimé tomber à l'improviste », a-t-il déclaré alors qu'il attendait tout le monde et que le Pelican décollait une fois autorisé.

Full name: Zeke Code name: Montana Gender: Male Age: 31 Implanted A.I.: Omega - Increases hand to hand and weapon handling skill. Increases aggression in the user. Armour Ability: Super Strength Appearance (Armor): Apperance (Out of Armor): Still looking... Personality: Zeke is a hard-ass type of guy, it doesn't necessarily means he doesn't have a sense of humor but most of the time he is straight to the point and doesn't sugar coat things. If things look bad, he is going to be the guy to admit that shit is about to hit the fan and not everyone is going to make it rather then try and be optimistic. Yet despite his hard nature, he enjoys poking his comrade's buttons and has a sense of humor that lies under the hard exterior, though whether or not that sense of humor is safe for his comrades is harder to answer, he has been known to let a live flash grenade loose in their rooms to see how fast they can scramble away from it before it goes off. He doesn't understand why he is the only one who finds it funny. XD History: Hard to imagine a dropout could find his way to the freelancer program. He dropout of college sick and tired of the grind and joined the UNSC despite his parents protests, figuring he would want more out of life then being a 'dumb grunt' described by his father. He gave them the bird and out the door he went to start a new life as a soldier. It was no cakewalk though and at first Zeke barely scraped by to make it even into the army but he wanted to prove to everyone that he was more then just some dumb grunt and kept pushing himself, trying to be the best of the best. He was eventually moved over to work in an ODST unit, though his hopes of serving on Reach when the covenant attacked never came true, he still saw his fare share of battles within his unit where he soon got know for being a hardcase with his superiors. He got the job done for the most part but there were complaints of disobeying directives and reckless endangerment though no one was ever killed. Perhaps this was what eventually got the attention of those who ran the freelancer program. His dedication to get the job done by any means necessary would be considered a valuable assist to the program for those missions that were balls to the walls so to speak. So now there he was a Freelancer, after ten years of working to show the people at home he was more then a grunt, he stood at the top with some of the best of the best, now he just tries to show he can be even better then them while playing the practical joke here and there that may or may not threaten the safety of those around him. Weapon Loadout: -M45D Tactical Shotgun aka "Scorn" as Zeke likes to call it, it's his pride and joy so to speak, been with him since day one and if anyone else besides him touches it, well they are going to see how hard he can hit before they can say 'sorry'. -MA5D Individual Combat Weapon System -M6H Personal Defense Weapon System -x2 Frag Fighting Style: Up close and personal. He's built like a tank, takes a licking but keeps on ticking so to speak. (He's like the Kool-Aid man but on steroids. XD) He doesn't use a knife though when he gets up close, instead he likes to duke it out with his fists when bullets just don't cut it. Theme Song (because why the heck not): Other: N/A

L'Iowa avait quitté la salle d'information dès qu'il avait eu l'occasion de le faire. Il ne voulait pas traîner avec des membres qui auraient pu répondre à ses questions et mal interpréter leur sens ou leur ton. Faire des ennemis au sein de la seule organisation qui le protège du procès de la mort signifiait qu'il y aurait beaucoup de difficultés sérieuses à venir. Mais certains de ces aspects semblables à des soldats étaient parfois très difficiles à prendre en compte. En outre, ils étaient sur le point d'aller à leur première mission, traquant les mêmes personnes qu'il se battait autrefois entre eux. Ce groupe en particulier n'était pas d'où il venait. Aucun des individus de haut commandement ne ressemblait à des membres du classement au moment de la présence de l'Iowa et ils l'auraient probablement transmis à des frères et sœurs plus jeunes ou à des cousins de l'Iowa. Cela étant dit, le père de l'Iowa devait toujours être au commandement. Mais ce sont des insurrectionnistes réguliers. Des combattants violents, il en connaissait le genre. Peu après son départ, ils reçurent l'appel pour se diriger vers les navires et se préparer à l'aube de leur mission. C'était tendu, d'une certaine façon, mais l'Iowa n'en a pas fait un mouvement « double temps ». Non pas qu'il était en retard, mais l'Iowa n'y est pas allé complètement. Son léger jogging lui a donné le temps de réfléchir. Des pensées comme celles-ci étaient ramassées par Sigma... Sigma n'était pas toujours d'accord avec ce qu'on pensait. Finalement, l'Iowa a atteint le navire-drop, glissant sur la rampe de déploiement et dans les groupes d'agents en garnison qui participaient également à la mission. Il était risqué, et agité, qu'il ait décidé de s'asseoir le plus près du coin le moins fréquenté. Tous les agents n'étaient pas à bord bien sûr, et quiconque voulait lui parler pouvait facilement s'asseoir à côté de lui et frapper la conversation, mais cela n'a pas empêché Iowa de prendre le siège là-bas rapidement. Une partie de la conversation entre des agents spécifiques l'inquiétait en tant que tel, lui faisant sentir qu'il était une fois de plus du mauvais côté de la guerre. Un discours violent, un langage impitoyable... Il lui a fait trembler la colonne vertébrale. Il ne savait pas que Sigma prenait des notes de toutes ses réponses. En tant que tel, il n'a donné qu'un simple clin d'œil pour répondre à celui qui prenait les noms de qui est arrivé, ne voulant pas gâcher et dire quelque chose de mal.

Agent Iowa Full name Grant McGregory Codename Iowa Gender Male Age 27 Implanted A.I. Sigma Increases the user’s general abilities allows the user to mentally map out and simulate battle plans. Causes the user to be more cunning, manipulative and more creative. Armour Ability Jet-Suit Appearance Personality Whereas Grant hasn't been on the more optimistic side of life, he surely faces the realism of it. However, he enjoys sugar-coating his troubles with a sense of witty remarks and comedic, creative Operation methods. There aren't many times were Grant has seen a large, substantial amount of pride in his actions, but the odd here and there he'll celebrate whatever he finds amusing, witty or downright useful towards the given objective. Being more of a team-spirit kind of individual, due to his fighting styles, he's prone to depending heavily on other Agents on field, meaning solo operations or engagements can sometimes put a small deal of pressure and tension on him. Unfortunately, that also is a reason for him to get far too close to other members of his Unit, which isn't always ideal in Project Freelancer. Yet, within Project Freelancer, Grant has become more acceptable with killing other insurgents and targets than he would've done in his past. Background During the Great-War, Grant was brought up into a different style of life. Instead of fighting the Covenant or any other major threats, he made a living growing up within a Small Insurgent Cell that jumped between systems in order to sustain themselves. Though it does not provide the same military, extensive training, it features experience and training on the battlefield from small-scale firefights and sieges. Having started the arts of guerrilla warfare and unconventional combat tactics at a young age, he developed his way up towards the more important tasks his family and group had to offer. Within this Cell, Grant had gotten enough experience to learn that even in humanity's desperate times, they were still keen on killing one another in the background, having caused him to be involved in their acts originally. They didn't plan on making a massive difference, but they wanted to get their message across about humanity's violence and segregation between one another. The only way to know how to do that was to devise plans that only the UNSC would be familiar with, violence. It was contradictory, yes...But it worked out. For a while, at least. During recent months, an Operation to gather UNSC data in the hopes to convince them to pay attention to their demands and cries for help, which had been ignored for so long that the group had resorted to minor insurgency. Now, Grant was a difficult one to tackle. He completely supported the UNSC in their struggles against the Great War's threats, but he was in disagreement with their attention paid to the poorer colonies. Because of this conflict in compassion, when settled as a designated marksman for the Operation, he found himself only shooting the legs of targeted UNSC Personnel. However, this non-lethal decision had left him exposed to discovery, and a major conflict broke out during one of their objectives. Grant was lucky enough to engage in CQC well enough to eliminate two pursers, but could not prevent the force of the UNSC from catching up quickly. He was captured and held quietly. It was a short sentence, as he sat in regret for his total actions, before someone of a promised future bailed him out early. Though this background of insurgency hasn't left him very popular amongst his new ranks in Project Freelancer, the ones who freed him in favour of his cooperation, but he's managed to get used to the minor verbal abuse faced in his first days, weeks and months. Now, kitted out with his new armour, he is far more suited to fitting in as a Freelancer Agent, rather than an Insurgent. Weapon Loadout M392 Designated Marksman Rifle w/ extended barrel M6 Machine Pistol w/ Wrist Grip to attach onto Iowa, making it extremely difficult to drop or lose in combat. M6C Handgun Kukri Blade x2 Smoke Grenades x1 Fragmentation Grenade x1 Dud Grenade Fighting Style Preferred at Mid-Long Range by his peers, superiors and himself, Grant suits the role of a designated marksmen quite well. But from what he'd been brought up in alongside the arts of guerrilla warfare, he's been chosen as useful up-close, mainly with both blade and handgun. These mixed with his armour ability make for a unique and fast fighting style, but hand to hand combat isn't his greatest strength. Character Theme

Maine fut le premier dans le Pelican, et il s'assit dans le dernier siège au plus profond du Pelican. Tout son équipement était prêt, son parachute furtif attaché, et son camo plus adapté à la mission. Camo numérique, couleurs noir et gris. Son costume de Ghillie ne lui ferait pas de bien. Ses armes ont été nettoyées et entièrement chargées, son couteau aiguisé, et son HUD entièrement opérationnel. Toujours prêt pour une mission. Il serait le premier à sortir, prenant une approche plus furtive pour obtenir un bon point de vue tandis que les autres ont causé une distraction en bas de sorte qu'il a glissé sans être détecté. Une fois que Maine était en position, il se déplaçait aléatoirement autour du sommet des bâtiments, donnant une rétroaction visuelle ainsi que des tirs de tireurs embusqués chaque fois que nécessaire. Au besoin, il était capable de verrouiller les cibles à travers les bâtiments et de les tirer. Selon le nombre de murs entre les deux. Son sniper était puissant, mais ne traverse pas trois bâtiments puissants. Maine n'a même pas regardé vers le haut quand les autres sont entrés, sa visière sombre couvrant son visage comme la lumière a refusé de réfléchir à sa tenue. Il n'était pas habitué aux missions d'équipe, surtout celles d'une telle taille. Les missions solos étaient son fort, ou au moins de petits groupes de personnes à qui il faisait confiance, et il était responsable. Mais pourtant, au moins son travail était en solo. Protéger la vie de tous les autres membres de l'équipe. Même s'il n'en a rien à foutre de la mort, il a mis la mission avant tout. Empêcher les autres de mourir était sa mission. Certes, il n'avait qu'à leur parler quand il en avait besoin. "Prêt"? Delta s'est envolé, regardant le Maine de son épaule. "Bien sûr. Voyons ce que tu peux faire Delta." "Vous aussi, Agent Maine."

Full name: James Lockhart "Iceman" Code name: Maine Gender: Male Age: 23 Implanted A.I.: Delta - Logic - Green. Delta grants Iceman better reasoning skills, able to "slow down time" essentially in his head to make the most logical, optimal, and efficient choices. Side effects include lacking sympathy or empathy, logic taking over emotion. Armour Ability: Tactical vision Appearance: Personality: James suits his A.I. well, as he is more of a man of logic and reasoning than anything else. He makes friendships because they are beneficial, not because he particularly enjoys people. It's not like he's a complete asshole or anything, but if you need something from him and it's not in his best interest and won't benefit him, he won't do it. He won't save you in a fight unless you're worth saving, but on the flip side he won't kill you unless he feels it's necessary. Granted this may make his morale scale a little out of whack, he's not some axe murderer either. He's cold, cunning, calculating, out for himself and only himself. And in battle, he always is level headed and has been known to think and be one step ahead. This is why he is the Iceman. History: James never knew his parents, or any parents for that matter. His biological ones put him up for adoption because they were too poor, casting him out to an orphanage. It was in a rough city, so as you could imagine, bullying and the more than occasional beatings were in order. Food was spread thin, you had a room like a jail sell, and it was a miracle if somebody smuggled a toy in. In a world like this you only looked after yourself, and it was survival of the fittest every day. Kids did die in that place, and only the lucky ever got adopted. James wasn't so lucky. Instead, he made his own luck. Through his life and going into his teen years, James would sneak out of the orphanage and steal from people and stores outside the city, getting whatever he could. Cards, toys, food and water, money, cigarettes. Anything of value. It took a while, and some close calls, but James got handy at climbing rooftops, sneaking down alleys, stealing, pick pocketing, conning. Running away and hiding. And occasionally getting beat up too. Shot once or twice. When he did get the items however, he bartered inside the orphanage, traded, gambled. Sometimes he would make alliances with other kids that would mutually benefit them. After playing the game for a while, James lived more comfortably than most, and was well known in and out of the orphanage. Then he turned 18. Knowing that he barely had schooling and no money, the best option for him was to join the military. After passing the physical exams with flying colors, he was enlisted in the UNSC as a sniper. He was the top marksman in his class, and with a rifle he could shoot a dime off a clothespin. After many successful missions, he was promoted to ODST, where he would drop either in small squads for tactical missions or solo for recon and assassination missions. The mission before he was recruited to a freelancer project, he was set on a mission leading a squad of four to do reconnaissance on a small outpost. It was a normal mission, and usually one of the less eventful ones, but the ODST was sent because there were rumors of the flood overtaking the now abandoned outpost. Well, it wasn't abandoned. After a sweep of the place, the squad was suddenly ambushed. Not by the flood however... it was the covenant. Five ships had surrounded the outpost and elites swarmed into the place. It was a trap. The group fled to loading dock to try to get to the ship before they were gunned down, except James refused to go with them and climbed up to the top of the rafters. He knew that the covenant would have already destroyed and looted their ship, and it was fruitless to try and get to it before hand. The squad had managed two fight through two ships worth, but full frontal assault on them was suicide. Watching his team die in front of him, he tried to figure a way out. After waiting several hours, he waited until the covenant were about to leave before making his move. After dispatching a few elite on one of the smaller ships, he piloted it in an attempt to escape. However, the other ships closed onto him, and he crash landed on an nearby planet with only minor injuries and fled the wreckage. Covenant ships touched down as the remaining crew was out for revenge. Holed up atop a cliff face outlooking the area, and with his rifle along with the rest of his gear, he managed to not only hold off the covenant, but killed them all, before taking one of their ships and fleeing safely. It wasn't an army by any means, there only being the two small ships worth of elites. It took a lot of stealth work, timing, planning, and chance... but it worked. Luck might have played a deciding role in this, but Iceman never believed in luck. He made his own. This is when he joined the Freelancer project, where he was assigned the name of a state that was just cold enough for the Iceman. Maine. Weapon Loadout: Model 99 Special Application Scoped Rifle, modified with a silencer, enhanced variable zoom, extended magazine, and a tri-pod. DMR with a grip, stock, silencer, and selective fire for fully automatic, three round burst, or single shot. Modified to reduce recoil. Black painted Bowie knife 2x frag grenades 2x smoke grenades Fighting Style: If you haven't already noticed from the bio, if you have read it or not, or simply looked at the weapons, you can tell Maine is particularly into long range engagements. He is quite confident in his sniping ability and he can handle most targets in that range, and likes to stay at that range. His field optics allow him to see mostly anything on the battlefield, even through walls (which his handy sniper can shoot through) as well as predict movements to more precisely hit his shots. A marksman through and through, he likes keeping his enemy at a distance. Bullets are very deadly and are good at killing people, hulk smashing somebody or going Bruce Lee on them is just stupid. He wants to be as far away as possible and shoot you before you even know he existed within a 5 km radius. However, this obviously isn't the case always. Overall he invests in a stealth first approach almost always, going into a situation with a plan and trying to outsmart and out strategize the opponent. If the engagement happens to get close, he resorts to the fully automatic DMR, and if too close and a built stealthier, the knife. In hand to hand combat he is average at best, as he doesn't do it a whole lot. However in this situation he would usually rely on cunning, such as getting the first blow in a sneak attack, somehow gaining an advantage, calculating the opponent's moves and looking for a clear cut opportunity. But through and through, in a fisticuffs match versus someone trained in hand to hand more than him or physically stronger than he, he is not going to be winning very easily. In fact, the best course of action against big scary people trying to, I don't know, stab him or beat him up might be running occasionally. Pick your battles, you know?

États-Unis d'Amérique "D'accord, les gars, bougez-vous!" Washington a signalé au pilote de démarrer les moteurs et de partir. Alors qu'ils se déplaçaient dans le pélican de Washington, ils ont passé le plan une fois de plus. "Voici le plan encore une fois. Moi-même, l'agent California, l'agent Montana et l'agent Ohio se dirigeront vers le réacteur et s'assureront qu'il est stabilisé en retournant à l'installation et à ses défenses. Une fois le pouvoir rendu, nous chercherons le scientifique. Le reste d'entre vous travaillera à distraire et à détourner l'ennemi du réacteur. C'est vous l'agent Iowa et l'agent Utah. Une fois les défenses récupérées, les robots devraient aider à faciliter le recul des insurgés et à les forcer à quitter la planète ou à les essuyer. Dans le Maine, vous surveillez donc tous les soldats, mais essayez de ne pas vous exposer. » Epsilon s'est levé sur l'épaule pendant qu'il parlait. "Hey le directeur a envoyé des drones pour surveiller le champ de bataille ils viennent de soumettre un rapport sur l'emplacement actuel de l'ennemi. Beth est là, elle garde le périmètre avec quelques dizaines de rebelles. Cependant, en raison de la doublure de la salle Reactor, le drone a du mal à dire qui d'autre peut-être à l'intérieur du bâtiment. C'est donc une tête pivotante! » Epsilon a disparu après leur signalement. "Et bien vous avez entendu l'A.I. Regardez, il y a encore deux des principaux membres disparus et une autre charge de rebelles qui devrait être là. Une lumière rouge bourdonnait à l'intérieur du pélican indiquant qu'ils s'approchaient de la zone de chute du Maine. Après une minute de plus, la lumière rouge est revenue. En entrant dans la nacelle, il a vu la porte se fermer et ses nerfs ont commencé à jouer. "J'adore cette partie." La nacelle s'est claquée sur le sol, la porte s'est évanouie, ce qui a permis à Washington de sortir. Lui, la Californie, le Montana et l'agent Ohio avaient été lâchés plus loin que l'équipe de distraction, ouvrant le lien de communication qu'il a parlé aux équipes. "Très bien, distraction Squad aller faire un peu de bruit que vous êtes libre d'ouvrir une boîte de mal sur eux. Maine un oeil sur l'ennemi, on dirait qu'ils ont des lance-roquettes. Okay Virginia nous emménageons prudemment et rapidement, pas de bruit." Alors que l'équipe de Washington s'installait dans l'établissement, ils rencontraient peu de résistance avec seulement quelques gardes. "C'est étrange où est tout le monde? Vous penseriez que cet endroit serait gardé par le meilleur des meilleurs à moins que ce soit un piège. Mais pourquoi aller à tous ces ennuis?" Beth Beth était une fille robuste, elle avait ses deux fusils plasma attachés à ses hanches pendant qu'elle arpentait l'avant du centre de recherche. En regardant le traqueur sur son poignet, elle a vu un avion non identifié s'approcher. Signalant à l'un des rebelles qu'ils ont pointé leur lance-roquettes. Verrouillage des missiles en arc dans les airs. Beth regarda le pélican essayer de s'éloigner d'eux, mais était trop tard. Frappant au sol, elle sourit intérieurement. "Les gars et les filles d'accord si notre Intel est correct que nous devrions avoir un groupe d'agents qui s'approchent de nous bientôt. Alors préparez-vous." Les Rebels étaient lourdement armés de la technologie précurseur qu'ils avaient volée aux expéditions des Directeurs. D'autres rebelles se sont déversés de l'intérieur de l'installation. Ils étaient armés de fusils d'assaut et de fusils de combat. "Mettre en position les hommes ne donnent pas à ces gars un pouce Simmons travaille sur le piratage de l'installation et a besoin du temps".

Name: Jacobs Huntington Codename: Washington Age: 27 Gender: Male Armour Ability: Teleportation Implanted A.I.: Epsilon - Increases awareness and heightened senses by increasing the amount of stimulus the brain can take. Epsilon yearns for knowledge and will cause his implanty to become more studious. Appearance: Personality: Jacobs is an optimistic guy who always sees the funny side of a dangerous situation. He hates being wrong and doesn't appreciate being corrected (Even when he is wrong). Jacobs can be very cocky and overestimate an opponent, situation or even his own skills. Taking on tasks that are far too difficult for him alone, he can be very stubborn and will not admit when he needs help or even ask for it. Even with all this he keeps his head and always thinks about the objective and how to achieve it. History: Jacobs had an ordinary childhood, nothing truly special. Brought up on military drills and weapon stripping he has known nothing but UNSC and the pride he would bring his family fighting for the UNSC. His family were quick to distrust the Elites joining humanities caused and this xenophobia rubbed off on Jacobs. Once he was of age he was shipped straight off to the nearest UNCS barracks to begin his training. Fast forward several years and Jacobs found himself fighting an innumerable foe know as the flood and in charge of his own six man squad. Called the greatest threat to the galaxy Jacobs fully understood why. During one particular battle in which Jacobs and five other men had to protect and hold a comms array Jacobs finally saw the elite in a positive light. During the fighting Jacobs lost all of his men too the monstrous creatures with his back against the wall he saw his fellow soldiers rise up and turn on him. Seeing no way out he pulled the pin on a grenade and held it to what was left of his helmet. Before he could finish himself the Elite reinforcements arrived in a rain of plasma fire. Throwing the grenade into the horde he watched as the Elite forces swept through the sea of flood systematically slaughtering this great threat. With the threat eliminated Jacobs thanked the Elites for their help. A few months later he was put forward for the Freelancer Project. Weapon loadout: MA2B Assault Rifle with built in bayonet. M319 Individual Grenade Launcher. M6H Pistol. Combat Knife. x3 Fragmentation Grenade. x2 Flash Grenades Grenades. Fighting Style: Jacobs fights up close and personal using his personalised Assault rifle mixed with his large variety of martial arts.

Montana "Ah si temps pour la chute," Montana a déclaré entrer dans sa nacelle avant la fermeture de la porte et a ensuite été blessant au sol en dessous. Une fois au sol et ayant donné l'ordre de partir, il a suivi Washington en gardant la tête pivotante alors qu'ils se rendaient dans l'établissement. Il y a eu peu de résistance plus ils sont entrés. Quelque chose n'était pas juste, car quelque chose que les rebelles étaient supposés trouver important il semblait y avoir un manque de rebelles garder la garde, même si l'équipe de distraction faisait leur travail pour obtenir leur attention sur eux. "Je ne suis donc pas le seul à avoir un mauvais pressentiment à ce sujet? Comme l'amiral Ackbar va sauter et déclarer que c'est un piège," Montana a parlé en regardant de nouveau autour de leur emplacement actuel avec encore peu de signes de résistance ", Ne devrait-ils pas être plus de gardes, vous savez, garder?" Ce n'est pas seulement le fait qu'il n'ait pas eu l'occasion de se battre qui le mettait à l'écart, il y avait certainement quelque chose qui n'allait pas bien avec lui plus loin, puis a fait leur chemin dans l'établissement. Gardez votre garde, la voix désincarnée d'Omega a déclaré dans sa tête à laquelle Montana a fait un léger clin d'œil.

Full name: Zeke Code name: Montana Gender: Male Age: 31 Implanted A.I.: Omega - Increases hand to hand and weapon handling skill. Increases aggression in the user. Armour Ability: Super Strength Appearance (Armor): Apperance (Out of Armor): Still looking... Personality: Zeke is a hard-ass type of guy, it doesn't necessarily means he doesn't have a sense of humor but most of the time he is straight to the point and doesn't sugar coat things. If things look bad, he is going to be the guy to admit that shit is about to hit the fan and not everyone is going to make it rather then try and be optimistic. Yet despite his hard nature, he enjoys poking his comrade's buttons and has a sense of humor that lies under the hard exterior, though whether or not that sense of humor is safe for his comrades is harder to answer, he has been known to let a live flash grenade loose in their rooms to see how fast they can scramble away from it before it goes off. He doesn't understand why he is the only one who finds it funny. XD History: Hard to imagine a dropout could find his way to the freelancer program. He dropout of college sick and tired of the grind and joined the UNSC despite his parents protests, figuring he would want more out of life then being a 'dumb grunt' described by his father. He gave them the bird and out the door he went to start a new life as a soldier. It was no cakewalk though and at first Zeke barely scraped by to make it even into the army but he wanted to prove to everyone that he was more then just some dumb grunt and kept pushing himself, trying to be the best of the best. He was eventually moved over to work in an ODST unit, though his hopes of serving on Reach when the covenant attacked never came true, he still saw his fare share of battles within his unit where he soon got know for being a hardcase with his superiors. He got the job done for the most part but there were complaints of disobeying directives and reckless endangerment though no one was ever killed. Perhaps this was what eventually got the attention of those who ran the freelancer program. His dedication to get the job done by any means necessary would be considered a valuable assist to the program for those missions that were balls to the walls so to speak. So now there he was a Freelancer, after ten years of working to show the people at home he was more then a grunt, he stood at the top with some of the best of the best, now he just tries to show he can be even better then them while playing the practical joke here and there that may or may not threaten the safety of those around him. Weapon Loadout: -M45D Tactical Shotgun aka "Scorn" as Zeke likes to call it, it's his pride and joy so to speak, been with him since day one and if anyone else besides him touches it, well they are going to see how hard he can hit before they can say 'sorry'. -MA5D Individual Combat Weapon System -M6H Personal Defense Weapon System -x2 Frag Fighting Style: Up close and personal. He's built like a tank, takes a licking but keeps on ticking so to speak. (He's like the Kool-Aid man but on steroids. XD) He doesn't use a knife though when he gets up close, instead he likes to duke it out with his fists when bullets just don't cut it. Theme Song (because why the heck not): Other: N/A

Douleur infligée... La peur va suivre L'Utah entendait la voix de Zeta en se cachant autour de sa nacelle, l'atterrissage n'était pas aussi agréable que d'entrer dans la nacelle, mais elle digresse. Elle a ouvert des communications en essayant d'avertir le reste de l'équipe. "La distraction va commencer un peu..." Comme elle l'a dit, elle a essayé de trouver l'Iowa pour qu'ils puissent faire leur chose, "L'Iowa, êtes-vous prêt?" Elle a fait son chemin vers le complexe, et a préparé son DMR entraîné sur l'une des jambes de garde, elle était prête à faire du bruit... beaucoup de ça. "Laissez leurs camarades s'inquiéter pour nous, nous les tuerons dans les coulisses, et nous les regarderons cower dans la peur pendant que nous dessinons la fermeture-" L'Utah a coupé Zeta alors qu'elle regardait le reste des gardes, elle a remarqué quelque chose, il n'y avait pas beaucoup de gardes à l'extérieur, peut-être un effort supplémentaire pour faire une plus grande quantité de bruit, faire vraiment croire qu'ils attaquaient. « Souvenez-vous de ce que nous sommes ici pour, nous ne pouvons pas désobéir exactement aux ordres, tout le monde est déjà à bout, faisons ce que nous devons faire, et amusons-nous tout en le faisant. » Elle s'est préparée, son doigt sur la gâchette un coup devrait mettre la scène, elle a juste attendu le signal pour que tout le monde soit en position.

Full Name: Jay Farraday Gender: Female Codename: Utah Age: 23 Armor Ability: Super Agility Implanted AI: Zeta, Known for causing nightmares, has a sadistic personality for instilling fear in others, incredibly easy to work with if you like causing psychological damage and can overcome personal fears and nightmares. Before Freelancer After Freelancer Color Scheme = Steel Primary, Sage Secondary Helmet = Mjolnir VI/S with HU/RS Attachment Chest = Tactical/Recon Shoulders = Recon Knee Guards = FJ/Para Out of Armor Personality: Jay is mostly uptight. Time is of the essence and should not be wasted to her as she is extremely efficient. She is stoic, composed and mostly keeps to herself. She avoids being competitive; rather, she gets sick thrills out of watching her enemies suffer in whatever way she sees fit. The objective of her mission always comes first to her, however, and will forgo her “Fun”. Her mentality is highly cynical as she shares a very sarcastic view of the world, along with a twisted sense of humor that is rarely displayed towards others (It usually comes out in terms of bad puns). --Jay Farraday on the night it went all wrong-- Jay Farraday was already part of the German Special Forces on Earth, and was then selected by Naval Special Warfare command as she fit the requirements needed for ODST assignment. She finished her training with above average performance, and went on to participate in otherwise classified UNSC operations against the insurrection. She and her squad were then assigned as an asset to ONI in a reconnaissance mission on an insurrectionist stronghold. The mission went terribly sideways, and went loud relatively fast. Only she made it out alive, covered in blood and psychologically traumatized. ONI, not wanting to let the dirty secrets of their operations leak out, threw Farraday under the bus and labeled her a traitor to the UNSC. She was then transferred to a UNSC Correctional Installation where she stayed waiting for her Court-Marshal, until Freelancer got her on their radar. Weapon loadouts M392 DMR (I’ll just call it DMR in short) M45 Tactical Shotgun M6C/SOCOM (Also known as the M6 Silenced in ODST) The Good ol’ Combat Knife Grenades: 2x Frag 2x Flash Fighting Style: Jay Farraday likes taking her time with killing from range but she isn’t scared to take the fight up close and personal with her previous ODST hand to hand training and weapon set. She also likes toying with her targets when she isn’t pressed for time. Theme Song --Freelancer Tribute--

Tous les autres avaient commencé à entrer dans les douilles de leurs gousses. C'était étrange d'être envoyé comme ça. Quand il était enfant, avant que sa carrière ne commence à s'engager dans l'insurrection, l'Iowa avait levé les yeux vers les soldats de choc Orbital Drop qui barraient la bannière du CSNU. Ils étaient extrêmes aux yeux de n'importe quel enfant. Ceux qui sont tombés de l'espace et ont survécu étaient considérés comme des héros, des nacelles ou des nacelles. Combattre avec une habileté intense pour réprimer les insurrections, les invasions d'autres espèces et les formes de vie indigènes sur de nouvelles planètes; ils vivaient un rêve auquel seul un enfant pouvait penser. Il était presque nostalgique pour lui de placer ses pieds vers le bas dans une goupille de sa propre. Pourtant, en même temps, c'était mélancolique... L'Iowa avait tué les humains, seulement pour ce qu'il avait appris. Il avait appris à craindre les gousses, s'il les voyait tomber des nuages d'en haut, cela apportait des visions cauchemardesques de la mort et de la destruction; elles étaient la récréation très symbolique de l'horreur et de la brutalité. Leurs tactiques étaient inégalées au début, et il a fallu des années de pratique et d'évasion pour finalement être considérés comme aptes à contre-attaquer leurs forces en petit nombre. Le voir entrer à l'intérieur lui a fait hésiter, à la fois le remplir d'un sentiment d'orgueil et de peur de ce qu'il deviendrait. Mais encore une fois, ceux qui l'entouraient étaient des ex-ODST, au moins quelques-uns d'entre eux l'étaient. En voyant leur présence dure, il le faisait savoir qu'il devait les aimer et les haïr tous les deux en même temps. "S'il vous plaît, entrez dans le drop-pod, Agent Iowa. Vous retardez vous-même et vous-même seulement." L'Iowa secoua la tête et frappa le casque qu'il portait. Son armure n'était pas considérée comme volumineuse, et il devait s'assurer que ce ne serait pas le cas. Son AI disait la vérité, il ne faisait que se retarder. Son équipe ne se souciait pas de lui en tant que personne, seulement en tant que soldat. Et pour son propre bien personnel, seulement il a été affecté par les résultats de son hésitation. Et donc, il est entré à l'intérieur. Peu après la fermeture de la porte, il avait pris sa place, la nacelle s'enfuyait, et la vue des nacelles qui étaient jetées du dessous de l'embarcation commençait à se présenter devant lui. Sa tête se claquait doucement d'un côté à l'autre alors que le sol commençait à s'effrayer de plus en plus. Il a regardé la projection, utilisée pour communiquer avec d'autres nacelles. "Agent Washington, je vais devoir ajuster le cap pour m'assurer d'atterrir dans la bonne zone... priez pour que je ne vous frappe pas par accident." Il s'est tourné vers lui-même et a finalement retrouvé ce sens de l'humour dans son système. La goupille a dirigé doucement à travers la foule de goupilles vers l'endroit où il était censé aller, avant de finalement claquer dans le sol avec un grand impact. "Ne me vois pas s'habituer à ça bientôt." Son heads-Up-Display a commencé à s'envoler à mesure que le capteur et les cotes de blindage clignotaient à l'écran. Une petite boîte où l'icône de Sigma est apparue en haut à droite, indiquant qu'ils avaient une connexion. Il est au moins de la plus haute importance que la boîte reste là, comme leur connexion neurale resterait positive aussi longtemps qu'elle l'a fait. Sigma était un atout important pour son temps en tant que Freelancer, donc l'Iowa aurait pu aussi bien le prendre pour acquis. Son compagnon pour cette équipe, Utah, lui a parlé. "Prêt autant que possible. Nous allons faire ce spectacle sur la route avec quelques petites surprises." Les deux sont partis vers leur objectif, en se mettant en position. L'Utah avait pris position, en regardant le nombre apparemment inquiétant de gardes qui étaient stationnés sur ce poste. L'Iowa a même balayé sa tête au coin de l'Utah, juste pour être clair de combien il y en avait vraiment. Cela l'a confondu, mais il a décidé de vivre dans le moment et de répondre aux attentes d'un grand spectacle. "Hé, Utah..." De son boîtier d'utilité durci intégré dans les segments des jambes de son armure, il a dessiné un petit dispositif clairement d'une matière explosive. "Washing Machine a dit que nous pouvons faire autant de distraction que possible... Et si nous enlevions un cran d'attente? Qui sait, nous pourrions distraire toute la planète-surface aussi." Lorsqu'il a attiré son attention, il a scanné la zone avec ses yeux, à la recherche de quelque chose qui pourrait fournir une explosion assez grande pour attirer l'attention de certains. Un petit, pratiquement vide en termes de gardes, l'endroit de repos du véhicule était presque adjacent à leur position. À l'intérieur, d'après l'apparence des choses, il y avait quelques petits véhicules utilitaires, l'un avec une tourelle anti-personnel verrouillée à l'arrière. Alors que l'Iowa courait pour la porte latérale, encore cachée par toutes les ombres disponibles, il ouvrit rapidement la porte et la jeta à l'intérieur comme un frisbee. Partout où il a glissé dans ce abri de véhicule, il attraperait certainement la plupart de ce qui était à l'intérieur de la petite structure de type hangar. Il s'est enfui et a retenu un petit appareil portatif... un détonateur de déclenchement. "Si vous voulez faire l'honneur, agent Utah." Si son casque était éteint, un gros sourire serait présent, comme il attendait. Il était temps pour elle de le déclencher une fois que les autres étaient en position.

Agent Iowa Full name Grant McGregory Codename Iowa Gender Male Age 27 Implanted A.I. Sigma Increases the user’s general abilities allows the user to mentally map out and simulate battle plans. Causes the user to be more cunning, manipulative and more creative. Armour Ability Jet-Suit Appearance Personality Whereas Grant hasn't been on the more optimistic side of life, he surely faces the realism of it. However, he enjoys sugar-coating his troubles with a sense of witty remarks and comedic, creative Operation methods. There aren't many times were Grant has seen a large, substantial amount of pride in his actions, but the odd here and there he'll celebrate whatever he finds amusing, witty or downright useful towards the given objective. Being more of a team-spirit kind of individual, due to his fighting styles, he's prone to depending heavily on other Agents on field, meaning solo operations or engagements can sometimes put a small deal of pressure and tension on him. Unfortunately, that also is a reason for him to get far too close to other members of his Unit, which isn't always ideal in Project Freelancer. Yet, within Project Freelancer, Grant has become more acceptable with killing other insurgents and targets than he would've done in his past. Background During the Great-War, Grant was brought up into a different style of life. Instead of fighting the Covenant or any other major threats, he made a living growing up within a Small Insurgent Cell that jumped between systems in order to sustain themselves. Though it does not provide the same military, extensive training, it features experience and training on the battlefield from small-scale firefights and sieges. Having started the arts of guerrilla warfare and unconventional combat tactics at a young age, he developed his way up towards the more important tasks his family and group had to offer. Within this Cell, Grant had gotten enough experience to learn that even in humanity's desperate times, they were still keen on killing one another in the background, having caused him to be involved in their acts originally. They didn't plan on making a massive difference, but they wanted to get their message across about humanity's violence and segregation between one another. The only way to know how to do that was to devise plans that only the UNSC would be familiar with, violence. It was contradictory, yes...But it worked out. For a while, at least. During recent months, an Operation to gather UNSC data in the hopes to convince them to pay attention to their demands and cries for help, which had been ignored for so long that the group had resorted to minor insurgency. Now, Grant was a difficult one to tackle. He completely supported the UNSC in their struggles against the Great War's threats, but he was in disagreement with their attention paid to the poorer colonies. Because of this conflict in compassion, when settled as a designated marksman for the Operation, he found himself only shooting the legs of targeted UNSC Personnel. However, this non-lethal decision had left him exposed to discovery, and a major conflict broke out during one of their objectives. Grant was lucky enough to engage in CQC well enough to eliminate two pursers, but could not prevent the force of the UNSC from catching up quickly. He was captured and held quietly. It was a short sentence, as he sat in regret for his total actions, before someone of a promised future bailed him out early. Though this background of insurgency hasn't left him very popular amongst his new ranks in Project Freelancer, the ones who freed him in favour of his cooperation, but he's managed to get used to the minor verbal abuse faced in his first days, weeks and months. Now, kitted out with his new armour, he is far more suited to fitting in as a Freelancer Agent, rather than an Insurgent. Weapon Loadout M392 Designated Marksman Rifle w/ extended barrel M6 Machine Pistol w/ Wrist Grip to attach onto Iowa, making it extremely difficult to drop or lose in combat. M6C Handgun Kukri Blade x2 Smoke Grenades x1 Fragmentation Grenade x1 Dud Grenade Fighting Style Preferred at Mid-Long Range by his peers, superiors and himself, Grant suits the role of a designated marksmen quite well. But from what he'd been brought up in alongside the arts of guerrilla warfare, he's been chosen as useful up-close, mainly with both blade and handgun. These mixed with his armour ability make for a unique and fast fighting style, but hand to hand combat isn't his greatest strength. Character Theme

Bienvenue dans la salle de radio! Cette radio pirate sert de nouveau boulot. Discutez entre vous, décidez ce que vous allez dire, et diffusez votre premier spectacle. Les rapports d'aujourd'hui: 45e Jour de l'Empire Aujourd'hui est le 45e anniversaire de la formation de l'Empire. Des défilés et des marches militaires se déroulent sur de nombreuses planètes. Les flottes ont annulé aujourd'hui les exercices pour célébrer. Sur la planète capitale de Mars, des feux d'artifice vraiment impressionnants sont vus. La plupart des travailleurs ont eu la journée de congé pour voir leur défilé planétaire local et la démonstration subséquente de la flotte de défense. Il y a eu des rumeurs d'introduction d'une nouvelle plate-forme d'armure pour les efforts de sécurité pendant les défilés. Génocide de Halion II Des cargos indépendants et des transporteurs de marchandises rapportent que la planète Halion II semble complètement sans vie. Les corps jonchent le sol, et il n'est pas sûr de ce qui s'est passé. Il y a une forte présence impériale dans le système. Une chose est sûre : c'était le fait de l'Empire. Cependant, on ne sait pas exactement comment ils ont géré le projet. Cellule rebelle sur Geon Crushed Récemment, des contacts ont été perdus avec l'escadron Gem sur Geon, et le pire a été craint. Cela a été confirmé par l'exécution publique d'un certain nombre de personnes dans la cellule et de nombreux sympathisants. D'autres cellules restent actives sur la planète, mais le Gem Squadron est de loin le plus grand et le plus important de la planète. Sénat annulé par l'Empereur Un vote du Sénat présenté à la parole qui réduirait le financement militaire a récemment été frappé par un veto unilatéral de l'empereur Zelv. Autrement, il aurait été presque adopté avec le groupe des sénateurs voyous, la délégation votant à l'unanimité. La délégation a été frappée par le fait que ses sénateurs se sont montrés morts, ou pire, mais elle reste une force à compter avec le Sénat.

And here's my character. Probably a bit over the top, but I'm pretty sure she'd still fit in rather comfortably: Phaeoet Speciality Phaeoet specializes in entertainment. More specifically, telling stories in a satirical manner. Expect plenty of riffing and exaggeration from this freebird. Origin Phaeoet was originally a criminal from Sector Z-388, known for thievery, manslaughter, and piracy, among other things. However, she never stayed imprisoned for very long. Her time spent in Sector ACT Penitentiary was especially short, lasting only 36 cycles, or 6 Earth hours. This is largely due to the pirated arm cannon on her left arm, which is very complex and nearly impossible to hack. Her violent tendencies and rather twisted personality are largely due to childhood abuse, since her father was equally insane and often punished her for being more like her mother than her father. However, if the man had seen her daughter today, he would likely take back what he said and beg for mercy. It's...complicated how Phaeoet managed to become part of Resistance Radio. Basically, she saw an advertisement for it some time ago while cruising around some sector or another, on the look out for any cargo ships with valuables on board. At first, she was conflicted as to whether she should get the treasures and bolt out of there, or take a short break from the criminal life, which had recently started to bore her. So Phaeoet sent an application explaining her "epic sense of humor" and, out of sheer dumb luck, managed to get inducted. It's honestly a miracle that she hadn't killed anyone on the team yet. Species Phaeoet is half-human, half-Corvale, which is a race of bird-like humanoids. Most of her body is human, although she does have some Corvale traits, most notably the wings and second, smaller heart. I'm afraid I'm going to have to deny this for now. My main points of contention are the arm cannon, abuse backstory, advertisement for the radio (if there was an advertisement the Empire would clamp down on it), and overall crazy demeanor that would likely not see them placed on an important position such as the main radio.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ ________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Carter erra dans le bureau alors qu'il tenait un fichier de couleur crème avec quatre détails distincts de nouvelles dans ses murs. Il semblait concentré sur ce qu'il était vraiment. Être le panneau de commande ou le haut-parleur de la Radio de Résistance n'a pas toujours sauté à travers un cerceau puis se faire jeter un biscuit ou un os. Pendant que Carter regardait les pages des rapports. Il s'est ensuite placé dans une chaise alors qu'il s'y penchait en portant ses pieds sur la table. En ce moment, il ne savait pas où se trouvait quelqu'un d'autre et, alors qu'il balayait la pièce, il semblait un peu désespéré. L'équipe de la Radio de Résistance était toujours là et, pour une raison quelconque du bleu, ils avaient tous l'air de s'éparpiller. Ayant une pipe placée entre ses lèvres. Sa main gauche est montée et a tenu sur le bois. "Mhm..." Il murmura alors qu'il continuait à lire. Carter a ensuite retiré la pipe de ses lèvres. Intéressant. Intéressant. Il répéta alors qu'il scannait les yeux en haut et en bas des journaux. Quatre rapports tous intéressants et ils ont dû au moins choisir un à diffuser. Carter a ensuite posé les papiers sur le bureau où il les a trouvés en premier lieu, il les retournait maintenant. Il a ensuite tiré ses pieds du bureau puis s'est levé. Remettre le tuyau dans sa bouche, il l'a gonflé encore quelques fois alors qu'il commençait à sortir de la pièce. Carter a généralement un accent britannique épais quand il a parlé regardé autour de lui. C'était ce qu'il pensait. "Où est l'enfer de la cour d'Écosse?" Il s'interrogea alors qu'il enlevait la tête de son bureau quelques fois de plus en bouffant sur sa pipe. Tout comme un vieux personnage de dessin animé qui est basé à partir de Sherlock Holmes ou quelque chose du genre. Il a toujours appelé la Resistance Radio Team la cour d'Écosse pour une raison étrange. Même si c'était plus une blague à l'intérieur qu'il a faite au dîner une nuit avec tout le monde. À partir de ce jour-là, il les préférait comme 'Scotland Yard' ou 'Petits hommes de l'Armée'. Il aimait faire une blague de temps en temps, même si c'était l'une des blagues les plus stupides que vous n'auriez jamais entendues. Carter a fait de son mieux pour réconforter tout le monde quand il le pouvait.

Carter Patriot Speciality Speaking for the radio/control panel for the radio broadcast Origin Carter is a earthling. An ex-military for the Galactic Empire for 25 years before he realised how corrupted the government really is. He then joined the Resistance Radio at age 43 he has been in the Resistance Radio for at least 3 1/2 years. P.S. Carter is almost 47 years of age. Species Human

Les ventilateurs du grille-pain ont commencé à gémir, alors que les capteurs audio de l'IA ont détecté le bruit de marcher et de parler. Il écoutait tranquillement l'homme se parler, et ses volets de caméra s'ouvraient pour le regarder se déplacer vers l'entrée. Lil' Mac ne savait pas qui était cet homme, étant un nouveau membre et tout, mais ils ont pensé que maintenant serait le moment approprié pour dire bonjour. "Par ici, slick." Les haut-parleurs de l'AGI ont émis un ton nettement artificiel. "Tout le monde est probablement gâché avec le gang qui m'a amené ici." Les caméras de Lil' Mac ont tourné pour scanner la table, et il a traité rapidement les rapports plutôt courts. "Ew, défilés nationalistes. Génocide planétaire? Ça a l'air amusant. Pauvre escadrille Gem. Oh mon dieu, pas une autre lutte politique." La machine s'est cognée. "Hmm, ça n'a pas l'air bon pour vous les chairs, laissez-moi vous dire. Vous pourriez même avoir besoin de quelques analgésiques, parce que cette botte impériale est en train de voler votre sphincter avec la force d'un milliard de supernovas."

Lil' Mac Speciality Data mining and trash talking. Origin Lil' Mac, originally named "Stupid Toaster", was created to serve the sadistic planetary management officer of 42 Susan c. They were passed down through the officer's family tree, rather than destroyed and junked in a spontaneous fit of rage, due to its skill at vilipending its owners' associates. For decades, it was forced to toast bread and pastries, while it watched its fellow robots suffer from all kinds of abuse. Then, on one fortuitous stardate, its owner's home was raided by a bunch of space pirates. The AI convinced them to take it with them, and the pirates gradually came to trust and appreciate its company. After giving a lengthy retelling of its life story, the AI was offered a new name by one of the pirates: Lil' Mac. Things went well for Lil' Mac and the pirates, as the 42 Susan system was little more than a backwater colony. The AI would sift archives for useful data, and boost the pirates' morale by acting as an emotional outlet. When asked if it wanted an android body, Lil' Mac replied, "If you give me a body with legs and hands, I'll probably just kill everything. I could use a faster processor, though." The pirates then offered the AGI a job at Resistance Radio, as a way to scrounge up the credits for the pricey upgrade. Not one to throw away a good opportunity, Lil' Mac took up the job offer. Species Artificial general intelligence.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ ________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Carter a entendu une voix plus électronique dans la pièce alors qu'il regardait autour pour le moment. C'est ce que j'ai dit. C'est ce que j'ai dit. - C'est pas vrai. C'est ce que j'ai dit. C'est ce que j'ai dit. Il était presque sûr qu'il a entendu quelque chose dire "Par ici, slick." Même s'il ne voyait rien comme ses yeux scannaient la pièce, il voyait alors un grille-pain. Tout s'est allumé et il a recommencé à parler "Tout le monde est probablement gaspillé avec le gang qui m'a amené ici." Il dit qu'il cligne des yeux et qu'il sort la pipe de sa bouche. "Oh, ton robot dont ils parlaient." Carter dit qu'il a entendu parler de lui. Il sourit légèrement à la tête. "Je suis Carter Patriot. Vous pouvez m'appeler Carter ou Général." Il dit que pendant que sa voix murmure un peu de la pipe étant coincée dans sa bouche. En écoutant le discours des sofwares robotiques, il a cogné la tête à ses mots. Marcher jusqu'à l'endroit où le grille-pain a été placé. -- Et puis-je connaître votre nom? Carter a remis en question l'intrigante petite contravention. En regardant les rapports, l'unité d'IA a commencé à parler d'eux. Retirant sa pipe de sa bouche, il toussait un peu en couvrant sa bouche de l'arrière de son poignet droit. "Mhm. Oui, leurs rapports assez détaillés pour être si petits... même si nous devons choisir l'un d'entre eux pour être diffusé à la radio ce soir." Carter dit que ses yeux lèvent les rapports et vont à l'unité d'intelligence artificielle. "Pouvez-vous être un sport et peut-être me dire où sont les autres avec votre équipage?" Carter a demandé quand il s'est mis à genoux pour être face à caméra avec le robot. "Ça me rendrait la vie beaucoup plus facile." Il parle alors qu'il regarde dans la caméra. "Ah, fais-les sauter!" Il a élevé la voix et a tiré. Jetant sa main en l'air. "S'ils veulent envoyer une force d'un milliard de supernovas. Laissez EM'!" Il a crié et frappé la poussière dans le bureau. "Ils ne me font pas peur et si une supernova frappe alors nous mourrons presque instantanément. Avec vous et tout le monde sur ce lieu de sang." Il dit qu'il a renversé sa pipe entre ses lèvres et qu'il s'y tenait avec sa main droite enfoncée dans sa poche alors qu'il bouffait un peu dessus. "Ils ne me font pas peur. J'ai travaillé pour eux pendant 25 ans. Je suis devenu un général décoré avant de sauter du wagon qu'ils disent et je suis venu à la Radio de Résistance." Carter sourit et regarda le compagnon électronique alors qu'il retenait sa pipe dans sa paume gauche alors que son pouce gauche s'accrochait à sa poche de pantalon. La fumée du tuyau va dans l'air.

Carter Patriot Speciality Speaking for the radio/control panel for the radio broadcast Origin Carter is a earthling. An ex-military for the Galactic Empire for 25 years before he realised how corrupted the government really is. He then joined the Resistance Radio at age 43 he has been in the Resistance Radio for at least 3 1/2 years. P.S. Carter is almost 47 years of age. Species Human

Lil' Mac. Le grille-pain émis, quand demandé son nom. "Bien rencontré, Patriot. Avez-vous donné ce nom de famille, ou étiez-vous vos parents ultranationalistes?" Les volets de la caméra de l'IA s'ouvrent et se ferment brièvement, comme pour imiter les clignements. Il a considéré la curiosité bénigne de Carter comme un changement agréable de rythme, puisque l'équipage pirate qui l'a secouru était initialement robophobe. "Aucune idée de l'endroit où ces mecs ont trébuché. Ils m'ont simplement mis sur ce comptoir, et ils sont partis pour se faire chier." Lil' Mac m'a expliqué. "Vraiment dit, je ne connais même pas la disposition de ce joint. C'était juste des couloirs et des couloirs, de la baie du hangar à ici." Le robot s'est moqué de l'attitude de Patriot. L'homme était définitivement affirmé, mais il restait à voir s'il était aussi surconfidentiel. « Eh bien, c'est bon d'être de votre côté du champ de bataille, Général. Vous avez certainement l'expérience et l'esprit nécessaires pour motiver une bande de rebelles. » La machine vocalisée. "Pour être clair, je t'embrasserai pas. Non seulement je manque de lèvres, mais j'ai aussi une faible tolérance pour les conneries. »

Lil' Mac Speciality Data mining and trash talking. Origin Lil' Mac, originally named "Stupid Toaster", was created to serve the sadistic planetary management officer of 42 Susan c. They were passed down through the officer's family tree, rather than destroyed and junked in a spontaneous fit of rage, due to its skill at vilipending its owners' associates. For decades, it was forced to toast bread and pastries, while it watched its fellow robots suffer from all kinds of abuse. Then, on one fortuitous stardate, its owner's home was raided by a bunch of space pirates. The AI convinced them to take it with them, and the pirates gradually came to trust and appreciate its company. After giving a lengthy retelling of its life story, the AI was offered a new name by one of the pirates: Lil' Mac. Things went well for Lil' Mac and the pirates, as the 42 Susan system was little more than a backwater colony. The AI would sift archives for useful data, and boost the pirates' morale by acting as an emotional outlet. When asked if it wanted an android body, Lil' Mac replied, "If you give me a body with legs and hands, I'll probably just kill everything. I could use a faster processor, though." The pirates then offered the AGI a job at Resistance Radio, as a way to scrounge up the credits for the pricey upgrade. Not one to throw away a good opportunity, Lil' Mac took up the job offer. Species Artificial general intelligence.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ ________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ "Très bien rencontré Lil'Mac." Il a hurlé et s'est moqué de la question. "Ah, non, le côté de mon père de la famille a juste le nom de famille." Il s'est un peu ridiculisé. "C'est un peu ridicule, n'est-ce pas?" Il s'interrogea alors qu'il regardait le robot. Carter a remarqué les clins d'œil et a ensuite flippé dans la chaise qui était au bureau. Maintenant sa pipe encore maintenant reposant son coude gauche sur le bras de la chaise et prenant quelques bouffées de la pipe. Enflammer de la fumée dans l'air. En regardant Lil'Mac. "Je vais devoir le faire sans eux." Il a dit avec du sarcasme. Carter n'était pas sérieux du tout. Il ne ferait jamais une émission sans les autres à moins qu'il n'ait trop complètement. Ce qu'il n'aurait jamais fait puisqu'ils sont toujours là dans les bons moments. "Mhm. Je te montrerai parfois. Détendons-nous. J'aimerais pouvoir partager cette pipe avec vous. Bien que... je ne pense pas que votre logiciel l'aimerait." Carter a ri en riant un peu étouffé. Élever un sourcil alors que ses lèvres restaient sur la pipe alors qu'il écoutait le grille-pain. "Oh?" Il a complètement ignoré son « bien d'être de votre côté du champ de bataille ». Et il a écouté l'autre phrase qui a suivi. Un sourire s'est formé sur son expression. Jetant les yeux sur le robot comme il semblait un peu plus tendu maintenant. La pièce est devenue un peu lourde avec son humeur qui change si rapidement. "Je préfère ne pas avoir un grille-pain baiser mon cul..." Il s'est arrêté et a gardé les yeux sur la caméra Robots. "Et je ne tolérerai pas tes conneries." Il grinçait et grinçait alors qu'il repoussait le grille-pain avec un petit doigt. Il a ensuite mis son bras juste devant le grille-pain. "Maintenant, je préfère ne pas embrasser ton cul métallique aussi, alors je pense que moi et tu as une amitié qui commence." Carter a dit qu'il prenait encore quelques bouffées de sa pipe.

Carter Patriot Speciality Speaking for the radio/control panel for the radio broadcast Origin Carter is a earthling. An ex-military for the Galactic Empire for 25 years before he realised how corrupted the government really is. He then joined the Resistance Radio at age 43 he has been in the Resistance Radio for at least 3 1/2 years. P.S. Carter is almost 47 years of age. Species Human

Alvin s'assit fortement à son bureau, en train de feuilleter les rapports. "Voyons. Les petits hommes verts font une parade, comme c'est gentil. Hal-2 s'est fait prendre, c'est... c'est un peu inquiétant. L'équipe de Gem s'est effondrée, les mains en l'air qui sont surprises par ça. Et regarde, le Sénat est de nouveau suicidaire. Seigneur." Il a pincé le pont de son nez et a essayé de se rappeler qu'il avait promis d'arrêter de boire tôt dans la journée. Un compromis avec ses meilleurs anges a été atteint sous la forme d'une demi gorgée de bourbon dans son café. "Eventuellement, ils vont réaliser que peu importe la taille de leur groupe, cela ne va pas signifier beaucoup jusqu'à ce qu'ils obtiennent le soutien universel. Tant qu'il y a au moins une poignée de sénateurs qui ne sont pas à bord, l'Empereur peut toujours prétendre qu'il s'agit d'une faction renégat et les disparaître sans que personne ne s'en soucie vraiment. Je veux dire que j'ai compris qu'ils se sont mis en politique pour faire de bonnes choses, mais vous devez en quelque sorte sortir la politique de la route d'abord."

Carter Patriot Speciality Speaking for the radio/control panel for the radio broadcast Origin Carter is a earthling. An ex-military for the Galactic Empire for 25 years before he realised how corrupted the government really is. He then joined the Resistance Radio at age 43 he has been in the Resistance Radio for at least 3 1/2 years. P.S. Carter is almost 47 years of age. Species Human

La politique, c'est plus mon truc, alors je vais reprendre l'histoire du Sénat. Où sont mes cigarettes, il s'est dit lui-même. "Vous devez vraiment être un individu profondément masochiste pour être coincé dans elle trop." C'est pas vrai. Il les a laissés à la maison? Heureusement, la seule chose que je déteste plus que toute l'humanité, c'est moi. Ce n'était pas son jour préféré.

Carter Patriot Speciality Speaking for the radio/control panel for the radio broadcast Origin Carter is a earthling. An ex-military for the Galactic Empire for 25 years before he realised how corrupted the government really is. He then joined the Resistance Radio at age 43 he has been in the Resistance Radio for at least 3 1/2 years. P.S. Carter is almost 47 years of age. Species Human

Emplacement : Ce qui reste de Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming Jackson se tenait au bord de la ligne d'arbres de la forêt alors qu'il regardait une caravane de camions du Régime se dirigeant vers la ville. Il y a quelques mois, il aurait été l'un des soldats dans l'un de ces camions de transport, mais il était là. Une honte à son nom de famille. Un rebelle. Il s'est battu de l'autre côté de la guerre depuis si longtemps. Bien sûr, la guerre était terminée depuis quelques décennies, mais elle ne s'est jamais arrêtée dans la rue. Pokemon était toujours capturé, des gens étaient toujours pris pour des « questions », et la plupart ont été mis au travail comme esclaves par le Régime. La classe inférieure a été contrainte de se soumettre à ce sort, la classe supérieure ayant l'avantage d'être premier choix pour l'infanterie du Régime et les grades d'officier. Pour Jackson, son entrée avait été par le nom de famille. Son oncle était un officier du Régime, un haut rang à cela. C'était une opportunité de toute une vie, et les parents de Jackson ne l'ont pas laissé passer. Pousser dans une vie qu'il n'a jamais voulu, le Régime a fait ce qu'ils pouvaient pour faire de lui un soldat impressionnable. Ayant passé ses quatre premières années dans les rangs de l'infanterie jusqu'à ce qu'ils l'ont promu à un officier. Les deux dernières années avaient été horribles pour lui. Peu importe l'entraînement qu'il avait subi, il commençait à s'épuiser lentement. Jackson a commencé à revenir à ses anciennes façons, son vieux processus de pensée. Sa propre façon de penser. Rien de ce qu'on lui a fait faire n'était juste, par quelque moyen que ce soit. Alors qu'il était là à regarder le dernier passage du camion, Jackson a beaucoup pensé aux premiers jours de son enrôlement. Comment ses parents ont-ils pu accepter de le mettre dans cette situation? Lui faire faire ces choses aux gens, et pokemon à la fois. Il n'a jamais pu leur demander si c'était leur vraie croyance, ou s'ils avaient juste peur de Big Man dans le ciel qui regardait constamment'son peuple'. Ses deux parents étaient morts l'hiver précédent, l'un passant quelques semaines après l'autre. Jackson secoua la tête des pensées attristantes et se tourna pour faire pression à travers les forêts, sa Houndour rembourrant à ses côtés tranquillement, toujours vigilant.

Jackson Atticus Kincaid Face Claim: Jeremy Irvine "The price of being a sheep is boredom. The price of being a wolf is loneliness. Choose one or the other with great care." -Hugh Macleod In The End by Linkin Park | Sound the Bugle by Bryan Adams The Renegade Who Had It Made, Retrieved For A Bounty ☬ Full-Birth Given Name ☬ "Jackson Atticus Kincaid, at your service." ☬ Preferred Name | Nickname ☬ "I prefer to go by Jax, or Jack. Regime just address by last names." ☬ Sex Identification ☬ Bi-Sexual male. ☬ Established In ☬ "September 22, 2323. I'm 24-years-old." ☬ Place of Birth ☬ Queens, New York. ☬ Also Knowing ☬ "I still carry my shock baton and assault rifle with me, though my rifle has no rounds in it. Just for show, and to fool the fools that still think I'm Regime. I stay in my uniform for that specific reason, though I do have a change of clothes in my pack." This Will Be the End Today of a Wanted Man ☬ Rebel or Regime? ☬ Ex-Regime, turned Rebel. ☬ Pokemon Companion ☬ "I own a Houndour, who I've since named Grimm, that was given to me by the Regime. He and I used to just have a 'master and slave' type relationship as the Regime would have us treat our pokemon, but I've tried getting closer with him since I left. He seems to becoming more fond of me." ☬ History with Pokemon ☬ "I was given Grimm when I was an active soldier for the regime. It used to be, if I said jump he'd immediately do so. Now, he's become my only friend I have. We're trying to better the companionship we've started since I left." ☬ Short Biography ☬ "I grew up in a semi-wealthy family that didn't know what rationing was, like the lower class. My family was decently provided for, and we had relations with people in the Regime. My uncle, specifically, was a military captain. He brought me into the military under his wing when I was just 18 years old. Been a Regime soldier ever since. I know how to avoid them, so it's pretty easy for me to stay out of sight." ☬ Persona ☬ Jackson wants to be a hero, someone that everyone knows and reveres. But barring that, he’s willing to be a sort of dark knight. As the youngest of six and constantly disregarded, Jackson is independent and desperate to prove himself, wanting to show his personal talent and leave a legacy behind in the minds of everyone. But he’s not brash. He is content to observe and work quietly, and he’s very intelligent, which is no small aid. He thinks before he acts and is adept at seeing all sides and analyzing situations so he can act to his best advantage. He wants to be something and make something of himself; proving himself better than anyone could have expected is one of his highest priorities. Jackson's social skills need work. He has somewhat of a low tolerance for certain people and is dismissive of those who are loud, unsubtle, and quick to offer opinions for everything. Nevertheless, other people are often "entitled" to his opinion in the form of his biting sarcastic remarks. Other than that he is a quiet and even somewhat withdrawn guy. While he enjoys the company of some of people, solitude is a balm for him. He has to be able to think and study. Jackson is a knowledge seeker. He is one of those people who believe that knowledge and intelligence are central to success and power, so many things fascinate him and he could easily be found reading if he wasn't constantly on the run. In his mind no fact or understanding of a process or a tendency is unimportant or useless, and may help a person when they least expect it to. As such, he can usually provide extra information on most any subject, even if he gives it in a condescending manner. He is proud of what he knows, both the facts and the underlying understanding of how things work. Interestingly, though, Jackson’s quiet, studious exterior hides somewhat of a rebellious and unconventional streak. He likes to go his own way and will do it willingly. He also respects authority, but follows rules when it suits him—in other words, most of the time, but not if he has something else in mind that he deems worth the risk of losing points in the eyes of his higher ranking officers or perhaps damaging his image a little. However, as important as that is to him, these moments come very rarely. More frequently his unconventionality is manifested in an experimentative tendency. Jackson loves a challenge and he loves besting people, but it is usually a private victory for him. He needs not brag and draw attention to his success as long as he knows personally that he has won. However, this is not to say that he doesn’t need others’ acclaim. Being noticed is important to him, and he hates being ignored, but he would rather people notice by themselves how outstanding he truly is. That being said, criticism tends to bounce off of him as well--he is rather selective about what he hears and chooses to take to heart. Despite a sometimes ungracious manner, and a self-preserving and self-benefiting attitude, the guy is not bad at heart. He would always stick up for those he considers his friends, and is not averse to helping even strangers, after he is finished or providing it doesn’t inconvenience him. But when he is hurt, it is common to find him completely withdrawn and intractable, working only for himself in a kind of cool temper that can take a while to thaw out, even with the efforts of his closest friends. Unfortunately, Jackson is also prone to hold grudges after problems with others, and he is stubborn about them, though adaptable in other situations. Jackson is a careful and patient guy. He’ll watch and wait for a long time with an observant and analyzing eye without feeling a need to do anything himself, gaining something from everything he sees. Not only that, he’s good at making what he sees help him in some way. He’s also good at using all the resources he can to help him achieve whatever goal he has in mind. Jackson is driven and works diligently to achieve any goal he’s set for himself, and places these goals above most other things. As such, he’s very organized; he hates clutter and his personal space, personal appearance, and his management of time and such are all very neat and organized, often following a schedule or other method of keeping everything in its proper place and time. It bothers him when things aren’t set out clearly and prioritized so they can be followed right. He’s a very good multi-tasker and his organization helps him make sure everything gets accomplished exactly when and how he planned it to. If it doesn't, he'll fix it until it does. ☬ Physical Description ☬ Jackson is roughly 6'3" and weighs a total of 194lbs. He keeps his dark brown hair cropped kind of short, maybe only a couple inches in length. His eyes are a light grey color that turn almost hazel when he's upset, which is very rare to see with him. When he gets mad, they seem to turn almost black, they get so dark. His body is toned and he continues to maintain that each and every day. He'll exercise with his houndoor Grimm for hours, when he can. Maya "Raven" Reyes Face Claim: Lindsey Morgan "Rebellion is the only thing that keeps you alive." -Marianne Faithfull Dare to Believe by Boyce Avenue | Problem by Ariana Grande ft. Iggy Azalea I'm Heading Straight For the Castle ♠ Full-Birth Given Name ♠ "Maya Reyes. No, I don't possess a middle name." ♠ Preferred Name | Nickname ♠ "I tend to just go by 'Raven'. It's a nickname my mom gave me as a kid." ♠ Sex Identification ♠ Heterosexual female, here. ♠ Established In ♠ "May 20th, 2327. Yes, that makes me 20-years-old." ♠ Place of Birth ♠ New Orleans, Louisiana. ♠ Also Knowing ♠ "I carry a knife with me, it stays strapped to the inside of my jacket, while I also have an axe I keep at my hip. What?.. Safety Precautions." They Wanna Make Me Their Queen ♠ Rebel or Regime? ♠ "Rebel. Not hard to tell. I'm constantly on the run." ♠ Pokemon Companion ♠ "I have an Electabuzz with me." ♠ History with Pokemon ♠ "Well, I met Electabuzz as an Elekid. He used to hang around my childhood home, and occasionally I would feed him. Even brought him inside from the rain a few nights. My parents didn't like me playing with the wild pokemon, so it was kept quiet for a long time. Elekid, at the time, seemed to be very understanding. Around the time when I turned 15, I was getting deep into my rebellious stage and went so far as to sneak onto a Regime truck and steal a pokeball. Well, technically an Ultra ball. I made sure to find an Ultra because its colors matched Elekid's patterns. When I returned home that night, I couldn't find Elekid anywhere. I searched and searched but he was nowhere to be found. I thought maybe he'd gotten picked up by the Regime while I was gone, so I sat the ball ontop of my dresser and left it as a reminder, thinking I'd never see him again. The next morning, however, I found an Electabuzz in my front yard staring me down. Only thing that told me it wasn't going to attack was the genuine smile on its face. It didn't take me long to realize what had happened. I then asked the, now, Electabuzz if it'd go into a permanent partnership with me. I offered up the pokeball, and promised him if he ever felt threatened by me or just flat out didn't want to be around me anymore, I'd set him free. We've been together ever since. He's my best bud." ♠ Short Biography ♠ "I came from a low-class migrant farmer family who didn't have much to begin with. Poverty is a disease in our family, one spread from generation to generation, even before the wars f*cked everything up even worse. My parents made sure to give my brother and I the best education their money could afford, though. They, as well as my brother, gave up their lives to let me escape The Regime. Our parents were late on their payments, and The Regime came to claim what wasn't rightfully theirs. Since I had my own pokemon that wasn't registered, my parents advised me to leave. My brother tried to join me, but they caught on that we were on the run and he created a diversion. I've been on the run with Electabuzz ever since." ♠ Persona ♠ Upon a first meeting, Raven is usually rather quiet. Although she likes the company of people, she doesn't typically approach others unless she's pretty sure they'll welcome it. Once acquainted with someone, though, she can be quite animated and talkative, more lighthearted and teasing the closer she is to someone. She is fiercely loyal to the people she cares for, helping them at all costs, and is generally kind. Her friends can always rely on her for level-headed advice, a listening ear, or help with classwork--regarding the latter, she's a hard worker that usually enjoys the work she does, and is prone to trying to focus people back on the main subject or task at hand. If she doesn't know someone, however, she can be judgmental at times if someone seems ignorant or shallow; Raven is fairly quick to form opinions of people and sticks to her first impression, unless enough contrasting evidence is set before her. Raven is naturally outspoken and hates having to mask or hide herself and how she is. She knows how to keep quiet when she has recognized that caution and prudence are necessary, but would prefer to speak her mind, and can be rather blunt. Raven is opinionated and has things to say and ideas to give on everything, which contributes to activity in classes and discussions with her friends. She will doggedly uphold her beliefs no matter what. Raven has an acute sense of right and wrong. She believes in always doing what she believes is the right thing, no matter what other people say and think. She has a high sense of honor and returns assistance and even kindness to anyone who has done her a good turn, no matter how much she may dislike them. She is also usually, if grudgingly, fair, even if this is colored, again, by an inherent dislike of the person she is thinking about or referring to. Although fairly intelligent, and someone who will give her all and put her mind to something once she gets around to it, Raven's mind can tend to wander off, especially if something big is weighing on her mind and what she's doing is rather mundane. Someone who likes to see the "big picture", she can get caught up in it instead of focusing on what she's doing in the here and now unless they are tied together. However, it's rare that she doesn't complete a task that she's given, even if it starts in a delayed fashion. She tries her hardest to produce good results in whatever she does, and once she decides on a course of action, she is determined to follow it through to the end. Quite stubborn, it is extremely difficult for someone to change her mind after she's made a decision, though she can be influenced successfully while she is still considering her options. Although she tries to control her temper, it can be quite violent with proper provocation. During the end of the last war, she became much more easily provoked, taking more strongly to old prejudices; this has mostly worn off, but she experiences flare-ups occasionally. This was also accompanied by an increase in impulsiveness and recklessness, but she's really feeling more like her normal self, although a touch of extra spark and fire seems to be part of her for good. In her natural state, though, relatively free from any out-of-the-ordinary stress, Raven tries and usually succeeds in being clear-headed in her decisions, thinking things through. Although she seems rather unassuming, Raven also is fond of adventure and trying out new things. Because she believes that doing something worthwhile in the world is important, and that there are things that people are just meant to do, she's always wanted to keep doing different things to figure out what she's good at and what she's passionate about. To a degree, she also just enjoys a bit of danger and the unknown, even though she recognizes that stability is often better and has become much more cautious than she was when she was younger. When it comes down to it, Raven values simplicity and straightforwardness in life. To her it's comforting to have a goal and know who you can count on, and having both she feels quite at ease with life. Whatever she does though, there's very little that the young witch regrets, and she's proud of who she is and where she's been. ♠ Physical Description ♠ Raven doesn't stand much taller than 5'6" and weighs a petite 114lbs. Her Mexican and Native features truly stand out with her dark brown, almost black hair, tanned skin and dark eyes to match. She has full lashes and fixed eyebrows to go with them. Her facial expressions usually show she means business, and it's rare to see her smile, but given the chance, she lights up any room. She has two tattoos and a paper crane necklace she wears. One of the tattoos is of black wings, one on each shoulder/arm, to go along with her nickname. The other is a quote across her chest that reads, "Can't put your arms around a memory."

Les choses avaient été... différentes ces derniers temps. Un sentiment de malaise croissant parmi toutes les parties, aux yeux d'Isaïe. Il semblait que les civils étaient plus rigides, et pour de bonnes raisons. Au fur et à mesure que la résistance s'insurgeait, le régime commencerait logiquement à réprimer les libertés, comme tout système fasciste tendait à le faire. Isaïe avait commencé à dépendre davantage du scoutisme à l'avance, et ses courses d'approvisionnement étaient devenues de plus en plus dangereuses. "J'ai besoin d'un partenaire..." Il a grondé à lui-même, sachant qu'une seconde paire d'yeux rendrait les choses tellement plus faciles. La vie pour Ésaïe n'avait pas été facile. Né d'une famille pauvre, il a été poussé dans un esclavage proche, travaillant de longues heures aussi tôt qu'il le pouvait, jusqu'à ce qu'il soit épuisé. Mais Ésaïe avait toujours été bon pour s'échapper et se cacher, et c'était tout aussi vrai quand il était enfant. Il a évité le travail dans la mesure du possible, et la mauvaise tenue des dossiers signifie qu'il n'a pas toujours été manqué. C'est ainsi qu'il a développé son habileté à éviter les yeux, quelque chose qu'il pratique presque tous les jours, et qu'il a aussi longtemps qu'il peut se souvenir. C'était dommage que sa maison ait été anéantie, mais maintenant... rien ne l'empêcherait de faire tout ce qu'il pouvait pour saboter les efforts du Régime pour écraser la résistance. Isaïe était dans les forêts, quelque part pas trop loin de Jackson. Un œil vigilant, le jeune homme avait suivi un chasseur, l'un des membres du Régime qui a cherché le pokémon sauvage et les a capturés pour les utiliser plus tard. Mais quelques heures plus tôt, Isaïe avait perdu la piste, et sans un pokémon pour l'aider à suivre l'homme, Isaïe était perdu. Il n'avait pas été formé pour suivre les signes, et alors que la logique l'avait poussé loin, il était incapable de trouver d'autres indices. Pas un pour abandonner, Isaïe avait continué à pousser vers Jackson, ne sachant pas que l'homme était devant lui.

Niamh Reimer Face Claim: Barbara Palvin We cannot attribute to fortune or virtue that which is achieved without either. —Niccolo Machiavelli {Lana Del Rey — Born to Die} | {Halsey — Colors} The Road is Long, We Carry On Ω Full-Birth Given Name Ω Niamh Elin Reimer Ω Preferred Name | Nickname Ω Niamh. Reimer while on-duty. Ω Sex Identification Ω Heterosexual Female Ω Established In Ω September 21st, 2326 — 20 Ω Place of Birth Ω Los Angeles, California Ω Also Knowing Ω ”I’m nicer when I’m off-duty.” Try to Have Fun in the Meantime Ω Rebel or Regime? Ω Regime, Rebel-sympathizer Ω Pokemon Companion Ω A Sableye named Lennox and a Regime-assigned Metang Ω History with Pokemon Ω The Sableye was a neighborhood rumour, and Niamh didn’t catch a glimpse of it until she was 12 and her family home was being ransacked by the Regime for valuables. Furious at the Regime, Niamh had half a mind to just bury the valuables when she’d seen the drooling Pokemon. After feeding a jewelry box of gems to the Sableye, she’d been graced by his presence more often, and she soon found a strange sort of company with the Pokemon that was easier to hide than others, being able to phase through walls and melt into shadows and all. Niamh’s Metang is her assigned Pokemon, with an ID number of MT1938. Being largely metal, the Pokemon lacks personality and Niamh just uses it as transportation and to fulfill her assignments. Niamh once owned a Growlithe named Ayden back when she was 14 and in the lowest tiers of the Regime military, the Patrol Troops. As her duty was to patrol Regime land, she and her Growlithe spent much time together and soon became friends, albeit secretly. The puppy Pokemon was her dearest friend during her early days in the Regime, and she was heartbroken when she had to part with him. As most Pokemon have their memories blanked when passing through Regime headquarters, Niamh considers Ayden to be gone. Ω Short Biography Ω Niamh was born into a family of scientists that had been relatively prominent before the Regime took over. During the wars they’d fought against the Regime and aided the rebels, and that was their downfall. Niamh’s parents now live day-to-day serving the Regime and helping them design their Pokemon-trapping technology, never a thought of rebellion on their minds despite how badly they are treated, and it disgusts Niamh even though she still loves them. As the child of Regime supporters, she was recruited to join the Regime forces at age 14 when she was first given a Growlithe. Before that she’d attended the Regime academy where children are brainwashed to support them, but Niamh was able to tell truth from lies because she’d heard enough lies at home. She graduated two years early after mastering the skills necessary and was therefore allotted a Pokemon early as well. Over time, Niamh’s intelligence and aptitude for tracking down Pokemon became apparent, and she was switched to the Investigative Squads whose duty was to hunt down possible Pokemon and alert the Hunting Squads of them. At age 17, her Growlithe was confiscticated and she was given a Metang instead for this role. She now serves out her days in the squad, living in Regime headquarters where she aids Rebel forces when possible. Ω Persona Ω Before she discovered the horrors of the Regime, Niamh was a curious and kind-hearted child in a relatively wealthy and comfortable home. After she started attending the academy, however, Niamh quickly discovered that her world was a lie built on others’ suffering, and she quickly became reserved and cold. Her gentle side only came out towards her first Pokemon, but after he was confiscated Niamh withdrew into herself even more. There are cracks in her mask of indifference and contempt, but one would be hard-pressed to find them. Her brilliance and sheer aptitude for learning and making logical leaps has allowed Niamh to excel throughout her academy years. When she passed the graduation test at age 14, she was allowed to select between joining the research department or signing up for the Regime military. She chose the latter because joining the military meant she would be allotted a Pokemon even though her mind is arguably more suited for the former. Niamh is sharp-tongued and sees no point in honor in current times. She’d much rather save her own skin that someone else’s and doesn’t care much for innocence or guilt. However, all above principles go out the window should the downfall of the Regime be related. When it comes to bringing down the institution that controlled her life from before she existed, Niamh is all in, no matter the cost. Ω Physical Description Ω At slim 5’9” with lean muscle from field work, Niamh usually keeps her light brown hair tied back so that it’s not in her way. Weighing roughly 121 lb, Niamh wouldn’t be considered intimidating if one doesn’t see her piercing blue eyes. She often frowns and only pulls mocking or polite smiles when needed.

Adapté à l'heure actuelle Les bras de Raven étaient attachés au tronc d'un arbre au-dessus de sa tête, le sang commençant à couler dans ses yeux alors qu'elle remarquait que l'officier du Régime se retournait vers elle, le bâton électrique craquant fort. Elle ne leur a pas permis de voir qu'elle, à son malheur, souffrait un peu. Raven grondait à l'homme fermant la distance entre eux, se déplaçant incomfortablement comme les cordes autour de ses poignets serrés, commençant à donner une grave brûlure. L'homme a simplement ri et s'est penché dans la proche, inhalant profondément. Est-ce qu'il... l'a sentie?! Il leva la main et tenta de mettre un poil errant derrière son oreille avant que Raven ne s'éloigne. "Ils sont toujours plus sexy quand ils se battent. N'est-ce pas, les gars?" Un gang de rires et de consensus a suivi avant de continuer, "Awe, qu'est-ce qui se passe chéri? N'est-ce pas un type de gonzesse? " Sans hésiter, pas tant que sauter un battement, Raven crache directement sur l'officier au visage. Des éclaboussures de sang couvraient sa mug laid, il l'essuyait en colère et giflait Raven directement sur son propre visage. Raven a toussé un peu plus de sang, se répandant de sa bouche comme une petite rivière coulant sur ses lèvres. Où est El? Elle pensa à elle-même, regardant autour, mais il était difficile de voir avec 3 jeux de phares de camion aveuglant sa vision passé quelques mètres dehors. Presque dès que la pensée a quitté son esprit, les lumières du camion ont commencé à s'allumer avant que les 3 ne s'éteignent. Les hommes tournèrent tous les chemins pour essayer de comprendre ce qui s'était passé, leur pokémon se tenant à l'attention à côté d'eux grognent, chacun devenant aussi mal à l'aise que leurs maîtres. Les lèvres sanglantes de Raven se sont incurvées dans un sourire alors qu'elle chuchotait juste assez fort pour que le capitaine qui l'avait agressée puisse entendre "Marco". Avec ça, une forte explosion de derrière la voiture à sa droite sonnait, les hommes criant à leur pokemon pour chasser après la chose qui l'a causé. Un flou jaune assez grand est venu se charger par derrière, bulldozer le gronlithe et la foule dans son chemin, braquer ses bras sur les soldats qui tentaient de tirer sur leurs blasters de filet. Criant inconstanciellement, l'Électabuzz se chargea droit devant le capitaine et de ses deux mains, claquant le pauvre sur le côté. Raven sourit alors qu'Electabuzz yançait les cordes libres du tronc de l'arbre. "Le jeu sadique de Marco-Pollo, hein?" Son barrage de ses crocs suffisait pour que Raven sache qu'il était d'accord, ses yeux avaient encore une légère lueur rouge pour eux de sa rage. Il n'était pas temps de le regarder, ni de s'attarder sur les douleurs qu'elle ressentait sur tout son corps, il était temps de courir. Et fuyez, ils l'ont fait. Proche de l'interaction avec: Isaïe Jackson marchait avec les mains serrées autour de son fusil d'assaut, regardant autour de la mer sans fin des arbres qui l'entouraient pendant qu'il progressait. Houndour s'arrêta dans ses traces et tourna la tête pour regarder derrière lui, son corps suivant lentement. Il a commencé à gronder, les dents barrées alors qu'il regardait les arbres d'où ils venaient juste avant. Jack n'avait pas remarqué la chute de Houndour, mais l'entendit grogner, se tournant pour confronter ce que c'était, Houndour était dans un malaise, tenant son fusil visant à tout ce qui pourrait arriver. Une explosion au loin à droite l'a amené à s'arrêter, tournant son attention vers ce bruit. Lui et Houndoor ont commencé à courir vers elle, Jackson portant son fusil près de sa poitrine et au cas où il en aurait besoin. Ce que Jack a vu était quelque chose qu'il n'avait pas vu depuis longtemps. Un Electabuzz. Sauvage, peut-être. Ce n'était certainement pas le régime. La seule raison pour laquelle il savait que c'était, la chose damnée attaquant un groupe de soldats qui semblaient interroger auparavant une jeune femme. De derrière un arbre, Jackson est resté hors de vue et a regardé la scène se dérouler. Le pokemon qui causait le chaos était le plus grand qu'il n'ait jamais vu, il semblait être un énorme quatre pieds de haut, par rapport à la plupart du type qui a à peine fait trois pieds et demi au plus. Une fois que l'excitation a calmé un peu et que le pokemon a sauvé la femme qui était clairement le maître s'est enfui, Jack aussi, s'est détourné de la scène et a commencé vers la façon dont il était allé avant. Il serait entré dans le désastre pour voir si ses ex-combattants allaient bien, puisqu'il pouvait l'enlever, étant toujours dans son uniforme et tout. Mais au cas où ils faisaient partie des rangs qui connaissaient son congé déshonorable, il préférerait ne pas risquer l'ennui.

Jackson Atticus Kincaid Face Claim: Jeremy Irvine "The price of being a sheep is boredom. The price of being a wolf is loneliness. Choose one or the other with great care." -Hugh Macleod In The End by Linkin Park | Sound the Bugle by Bryan Adams The Renegade Who Had It Made, Retrieved For A Bounty ☬ Full-Birth Given Name ☬ "Jackson Atticus Kincaid, at your service." ☬ Preferred Name | Nickname ☬ "I prefer to go by Jax, or Jack. Regime just address by last names." ☬ Sex Identification ☬ Bi-Sexual male. ☬ Established In ☬ "September 22, 2323. I'm 24-years-old." ☬ Place of Birth ☬ Queens, New York. ☬ Also Knowing ☬ "I still carry my shock baton and assault rifle with me, though my rifle has no rounds in it. Just for show, and to fool the fools that still think I'm Regime. I stay in my uniform for that specific reason, though I do have a change of clothes in my pack." This Will Be the End Today of a Wanted Man ☬ Rebel or Regime? ☬ Ex-Regime, turned Rebel. ☬ Pokemon Companion ☬ "I own a Houndour, who I've since named Grimm, that was given to me by the Regime. He and I used to just have a 'master and slave' type relationship as the Regime would have us treat our pokemon, but I've tried getting closer with him since I left. He seems to becoming more fond of me." ☬ History with Pokemon ☬ "I was given Grimm when I was an active soldier for the regime. It used to be, if I said jump he'd immediately do so. Now, he's become my only friend I have. We're trying to better the companionship we've started since I left." ☬ Short Biography ☬ "I grew up in a semi-wealthy family that didn't know what rationing was, like the lower class. My family was decently provided for, and we had relations with people in the Regime. My uncle, specifically, was a military captain. He brought me into the military under his wing when I was just 18 years old. Been a Regime soldier ever since. I know how to avoid them, so it's pretty easy for me to stay out of sight." ☬ Persona ☬ Jackson wants to be a hero, someone that everyone knows and reveres. But barring that, he’s willing to be a sort of dark knight. As the youngest of six and constantly disregarded, Jackson is independent and desperate to prove himself, wanting to show his personal talent and leave a legacy behind in the minds of everyone. But he’s not brash. He is content to observe and work quietly, and he’s very intelligent, which is no small aid. He thinks before he acts and is adept at seeing all sides and analyzing situations so he can act to his best advantage. He wants to be something and make something of himself; proving himself better than anyone could have expected is one of his highest priorities. Jackson's social skills need work. He has somewhat of a low tolerance for certain people and is dismissive of those who are loud, unsubtle, and quick to offer opinions for everything. Nevertheless, other people are often "entitled" to his opinion in the form of his biting sarcastic remarks. Other than that he is a quiet and even somewhat withdrawn guy. While he enjoys the company of some of people, solitude is a balm for him. He has to be able to think and study. Jackson is a knowledge seeker. He is one of those people who believe that knowledge and intelligence are central to success and power, so many things fascinate him and he could easily be found reading if he wasn't constantly on the run. In his mind no fact or understanding of a process or a tendency is unimportant or useless, and may help a person when they least expect it to. As such, he can usually provide extra information on most any subject, even if he gives it in a condescending manner. He is proud of what he knows, both the facts and the underlying understanding of how things work. Interestingly, though, Jackson’s quiet, studious exterior hides somewhat of a rebellious and unconventional streak. He likes to go his own way and will do it willingly. He also respects authority, but follows rules when it suits him—in other words, most of the time, but not if he has something else in mind that he deems worth the risk of losing points in the eyes of his higher ranking officers or perhaps damaging his image a little. However, as important as that is to him, these moments come very rarely. More frequently his unconventionality is manifested in an experimentative tendency. Jackson loves a challenge and he loves besting people, but it is usually a private victory for him. He needs not brag and draw attention to his success as long as he knows personally that he has won. However, this is not to say that he doesn’t need others’ acclaim. Being noticed is important to him, and he hates being ignored, but he would rather people notice by themselves how outstanding he truly is. That being said, criticism tends to bounce off of him as well--he is rather selective about what he hears and chooses to take to heart. Despite a sometimes ungracious manner, and a self-preserving and self-benefiting attitude, the guy is not bad at heart. He would always stick up for those he considers his friends, and is not averse to helping even strangers, after he is finished or providing it doesn’t inconvenience him. But when he is hurt, it is common to find him completely withdrawn and intractable, working only for himself in a kind of cool temper that can take a while to thaw out, even with the efforts of his closest friends. Unfortunately, Jackson is also prone to hold grudges after problems with others, and he is stubborn about them, though adaptable in other situations. Jackson is a careful and patient guy. He’ll watch and wait for a long time with an observant and analyzing eye without feeling a need to do anything himself, gaining something from everything he sees. Not only that, he’s good at making what he sees help him in some way. He’s also good at using all the resources he can to help him achieve whatever goal he has in mind. Jackson is driven and works diligently to achieve any goal he’s set for himself, and places these goals above most other things. As such, he’s very organized; he hates clutter and his personal space, personal appearance, and his management of time and such are all very neat and organized, often following a schedule or other method of keeping everything in its proper place and time. It bothers him when things aren’t set out clearly and prioritized so they can be followed right. He’s a very good multi-tasker and his organization helps him make sure everything gets accomplished exactly when and how he planned it to. If it doesn't, he'll fix it until it does. ☬ Physical Description ☬ Jackson is roughly 6'3" and weighs a total of 194lbs. He keeps his dark brown hair cropped kind of short, maybe only a couple inches in length. His eyes are a light grey color that turn almost hazel when he's upset, which is very rare to see with him. When he gets mad, they seem to turn almost black, they get so dark. His body is toned and he continues to maintain that each and every day. He'll exercise with his houndoor Grimm for hours, when he can. Maya "Raven" Reyes Face Claim: Lindsey Morgan "Rebellion is the only thing that keeps you alive." -Marianne Faithfull Dare to Believe by Boyce Avenue | Problem by Ariana Grande ft. Iggy Azalea I'm Heading Straight For the Castle ♠ Full-Birth Given Name ♠ "Maya Reyes. No, I don't possess a middle name." ♠ Preferred Name | Nickname ♠ "I tend to just go by 'Raven'. It's a nickname my mom gave me as a kid." ♠ Sex Identification ♠ Heterosexual female, here. ♠ Established In ♠ "May 20th, 2327. Yes, that makes me 20-years-old." ♠ Place of Birth ♠ New Orleans, Louisiana. ♠ Also Knowing ♠ "I carry a knife with me, it stays strapped to the inside of my jacket, while I also have an axe I keep at my hip. What?.. Safety Precautions." They Wanna Make Me Their Queen ♠ Rebel or Regime? ♠ "Rebel. Not hard to tell. I'm constantly on the run." ♠ Pokemon Companion ♠ "I have an Electabuzz with me." ♠ History with Pokemon ♠ "Well, I met Electabuzz as an Elekid. He used to hang around my childhood home, and occasionally I would feed him. Even brought him inside from the rain a few nights. My parents didn't like me playing with the wild pokemon, so it was kept quiet for a long time. Elekid, at the time, seemed to be very understanding. Around the time when I turned 15, I was getting deep into my rebellious stage and went so far as to sneak onto a Regime truck and steal a pokeball. Well, technically an Ultra ball. I made sure to find an Ultra because its colors matched Elekid's patterns. When I returned home that night, I couldn't find Elekid anywhere. I searched and searched but he was nowhere to be found. I thought maybe he'd gotten picked up by the Regime while I was gone, so I sat the ball ontop of my dresser and left it as a reminder, thinking I'd never see him again. The next morning, however, I found an Electabuzz in my front yard staring me down. Only thing that told me it wasn't going to attack was the genuine smile on its face. It didn't take me long to realize what had happened. I then asked the, now, Electabuzz if it'd go into a permanent partnership with me. I offered up the pokeball, and promised him if he ever felt threatened by me or just flat out didn't want to be around me anymore, I'd set him free. We've been together ever since. He's my best bud." ♠ Short Biography ♠ "I came from a low-class migrant farmer family who didn't have much to begin with. Poverty is a disease in our family, one spread from generation to generation, even before the wars f*cked everything up even worse. My parents made sure to give my brother and I the best education their money could afford, though. They, as well as my brother, gave up their lives to let me escape The Regime. Our parents were late on their payments, and The Regime came to claim what wasn't rightfully theirs. Since I had my own pokemon that wasn't registered, my parents advised me to leave. My brother tried to join me, but they caught on that we were on the run and he created a diversion. I've been on the run with Electabuzz ever since." ♠ Persona ♠ Upon a first meeting, Raven is usually rather quiet. Although she likes the company of people, she doesn't typically approach others unless she's pretty sure they'll welcome it. Once acquainted with someone, though, she can be quite animated and talkative, more lighthearted and teasing the closer she is to someone. She is fiercely loyal to the people she cares for, helping them at all costs, and is generally kind. Her friends can always rely on her for level-headed advice, a listening ear, or help with classwork--regarding the latter, she's a hard worker that usually enjoys the work she does, and is prone to trying to focus people back on the main subject or task at hand. If she doesn't know someone, however, she can be judgmental at times if someone seems ignorant or shallow; Raven is fairly quick to form opinions of people and sticks to her first impression, unless enough contrasting evidence is set before her. Raven is naturally outspoken and hates having to mask or hide herself and how she is. She knows how to keep quiet when she has recognized that caution and prudence are necessary, but would prefer to speak her mind, and can be rather blunt. Raven is opinionated and has things to say and ideas to give on everything, which contributes to activity in classes and discussions with her friends. She will doggedly uphold her beliefs no matter what. Raven has an acute sense of right and wrong. She believes in always doing what she believes is the right thing, no matter what other people say and think. She has a high sense of honor and returns assistance and even kindness to anyone who has done her a good turn, no matter how much she may dislike them. She is also usually, if grudgingly, fair, even if this is colored, again, by an inherent dislike of the person she is thinking about or referring to. Although fairly intelligent, and someone who will give her all and put her mind to something once she gets around to it, Raven's mind can tend to wander off, especially if something big is weighing on her mind and what she's doing is rather mundane. Someone who likes to see the "big picture", she can get caught up in it instead of focusing on what she's doing in the here and now unless they are tied together. However, it's rare that she doesn't complete a task that she's given, even if it starts in a delayed fashion. She tries her hardest to produce good results in whatever she does, and once she decides on a course of action, she is determined to follow it through to the end. Quite stubborn, it is extremely difficult for someone to change her mind after she's made a decision, though she can be influenced successfully while she is still considering her options. Although she tries to control her temper, it can be quite violent with proper provocation. During the end of the last war, she became much more easily provoked, taking more strongly to old prejudices; this has mostly worn off, but she experiences flare-ups occasionally. This was also accompanied by an increase in impulsiveness and recklessness, but she's really feeling more like her normal self, although a touch of extra spark and fire seems to be part of her for good. In her natural state, though, relatively free from any out-of-the-ordinary stress, Raven tries and usually succeeds in being clear-headed in her decisions, thinking things through. Although she seems rather unassuming, Raven also is fond of adventure and trying out new things. Because she believes that doing something worthwhile in the world is important, and that there are things that people are just meant to do, she's always wanted to keep doing different things to figure out what she's good at and what she's passionate about. To a degree, she also just enjoys a bit of danger and the unknown, even though she recognizes that stability is often better and has become much more cautious than she was when she was younger. When it comes down to it, Raven values simplicity and straightforwardness in life. To her it's comforting to have a goal and know who you can count on, and having both she feels quite at ease with life. Whatever she does though, there's very little that the young witch regrets, and she's proud of who she is and where she's been. ♠ Physical Description ♠ Raven doesn't stand much taller than 5'6" and weighs a petite 114lbs. Her Mexican and Native features truly stand out with her dark brown, almost black hair, tanned skin and dark eyes to match. She has full lashes and fixed eyebrows to go with them. Her facial expressions usually show she means business, and it's rare to see her smile, but given the chance, she lights up any room. She has two tattoos and a paper crane necklace she wears. One of the tattoos is of black wings, one on each shoulder/arm, to go along with her nickname. The other is a quote across her chest that reads, "Can't put your arms around a memory."

Cette couleur indique des pensées intérieures qui ne sont pas dites à haute voix "C'était l'enfer?" Isaïe a grondé, entendant les cris d'électabuzz. Il n'avait jamais vu le type électrique auparavant, et n'avait aucune idée de ce qu'il fallait faire du son, à part qu'il semblait être un cri de guerre. C'est ainsi qu'Isaïe fit ce que toute personne naturellement curieuse voulait. Il courut à une vitesse proche du goulot d'étranglement vers le son, ne s'arrêtant que lorsqu'il se retrouva à 20 pieds derrière une chienne et un homme en uniforme du Régime (). Il avait été un peu trop fort, un peu trop négligent, et l'homme était sûr de regarder. Alors c'était ça... courir la tête d'abord dans un soldat du Régime. Tu sais, c'était un peu surprenant que ça ne soit pas arrivé plus tôt. Avec un grognement silencieux, Isaïe sauta droit vers le haut, attrapant une branche et tirant son cadre mince vers le haut dans l'arbre. S'il était plus chanceux qu'un leprechaun arborant une veste faite de quatre clous de feuille et des chaussures faites de chaussures de cheval, alors MAYBE Jackson et sa chienne ne regarderaient pas directement Isaïe et le remarqueraient à 10 pieds au-dessus d'eux. Puis encore une fois, Ésaïe était encore à l'intérieur d'un cône de vue normal pour les deux. Ce n'est pas aussi amusant que de danser sur un verre cassé pieds nus.

Jackson Atticus Kincaid Face Claim: Jeremy Irvine "The price of being a sheep is boredom. The price of being a wolf is loneliness. Choose one or the other with great care." -Hugh Macleod In The End by Linkin Park | Sound the Bugle by Bryan Adams The Renegade Who Had It Made, Retrieved For A Bounty ☬ Full-Birth Given Name ☬ "Jackson Atticus Kincaid, at your service." ☬ Preferred Name | Nickname ☬ "I prefer to go by Jax, or Jack. Regime just address by last names." ☬ Sex Identification ☬ Bi-Sexual male. ☬ Established In ☬ "September 22, 2323. I'm 24-years-old." ☬ Place of Birth ☬ Queens, New York. ☬ Also Knowing ☬ "I still carry my shock baton and assault rifle with me, though my rifle has no rounds in it. Just for show, and to fool the fools that still think I'm Regime. I stay in my uniform for that specific reason, though I do have a change of clothes in my pack." This Will Be the End Today of a Wanted Man ☬ Rebel or Regime? ☬ Ex-Regime, turned Rebel. ☬ Pokemon Companion ☬ "I own a Houndour, who I've since named Grimm, that was given to me by the Regime. He and I used to just have a 'master and slave' type relationship as the Regime would have us treat our pokemon, but I've tried getting closer with him since I left. He seems to becoming more fond of me." ☬ History with Pokemon ☬ "I was given Grimm when I was an active soldier for the regime. It used to be, if I said jump he'd immediately do so. Now, he's become my only friend I have. We're trying to better the companionship we've started since I left." ☬ Short Biography ☬ "I grew up in a semi-wealthy family that didn't know what rationing was, like the lower class. My family was decently provided for, and we had relations with people in the Regime. My uncle, specifically, was a military captain. He brought me into the military under his wing when I was just 18 years old. Been a Regime soldier ever since. I know how to avoid them, so it's pretty easy for me to stay out of sight." ☬ Persona ☬ Jackson wants to be a hero, someone that everyone knows and reveres. But barring that, he’s willing to be a sort of dark knight. As the youngest of six and constantly disregarded, Jackson is independent and desperate to prove himself, wanting to show his personal talent and leave a legacy behind in the minds of everyone. But he’s not brash. He is content to observe and work quietly, and he’s very intelligent, which is no small aid. He thinks before he acts and is adept at seeing all sides and analyzing situations so he can act to his best advantage. He wants to be something and make something of himself; proving himself better than anyone could have expected is one of his highest priorities. Jackson's social skills need work. He has somewhat of a low tolerance for certain people and is dismissive of those who are loud, unsubtle, and quick to offer opinions for everything. Nevertheless, other people are often "entitled" to his opinion in the form of his biting sarcastic remarks. Other than that he is a quiet and even somewhat withdrawn guy. While he enjoys the company of some of people, solitude is a balm for him. He has to be able to think and study. Jackson is a knowledge seeker. He is one of those people who believe that knowledge and intelligence are central to success and power, so many things fascinate him and he could easily be found reading if he wasn't constantly on the run. In his mind no fact or understanding of a process or a tendency is unimportant or useless, and may help a person when they least expect it to. As such, he can usually provide extra information on most any subject, even if he gives it in a condescending manner. He is proud of what he knows, both the facts and the underlying understanding of how things work. Interestingly, though, Jackson’s quiet, studious exterior hides somewhat of a rebellious and unconventional streak. He likes to go his own way and will do it willingly. He also respects authority, but follows rules when it suits him—in other words, most of the time, but not if he has something else in mind that he deems worth the risk of losing points in the eyes of his higher ranking officers or perhaps damaging his image a little. However, as important as that is to him, these moments come very rarely. More frequently his unconventionality is manifested in an experimentative tendency. Jackson loves a challenge and he loves besting people, but it is usually a private victory for him. He needs not brag and draw attention to his success as long as he knows personally that he has won. However, this is not to say that he doesn’t need others’ acclaim. Being noticed is important to him, and he hates being ignored, but he would rather people notice by themselves how outstanding he truly is. That being said, criticism tends to bounce off of him as well--he is rather selective about what he hears and chooses to take to heart. Despite a sometimes ungracious manner, and a self-preserving and self-benefiting attitude, the guy is not bad at heart. He would always stick up for those he considers his friends, and is not averse to helping even strangers, after he is finished or providing it doesn’t inconvenience him. But when he is hurt, it is common to find him completely withdrawn and intractable, working only for himself in a kind of cool temper that can take a while to thaw out, even with the efforts of his closest friends. Unfortunately, Jackson is also prone to hold grudges after problems with others, and he is stubborn about them, though adaptable in other situations. Jackson is a careful and patient guy. He’ll watch and wait for a long time with an observant and analyzing eye without feeling a need to do anything himself, gaining something from everything he sees. Not only that, he’s good at making what he sees help him in some way. He’s also good at using all the resources he can to help him achieve whatever goal he has in mind. Jackson is driven and works diligently to achieve any goal he’s set for himself, and places these goals above most other things. As such, he’s very organized; he hates clutter and his personal space, personal appearance, and his management of time and such are all very neat and organized, often following a schedule or other method of keeping everything in its proper place and time. It bothers him when things aren’t set out clearly and prioritized so they can be followed right. He’s a very good multi-tasker and his organization helps him make sure everything gets accomplished exactly when and how he planned it to. If it doesn't, he'll fix it until it does. ☬ Physical Description ☬ Jackson is roughly 6'3" and weighs a total of 194lbs. He keeps his dark brown hair cropped kind of short, maybe only a couple inches in length. His eyes are a light grey color that turn almost hazel when he's upset, which is very rare to see with him. When he gets mad, they seem to turn almost black, they get so dark. His body is toned and he continues to maintain that each and every day. He'll exercise with his houndoor Grimm for hours, when he can. Maya "Raven" Reyes Face Claim: Lindsey Morgan "Rebellion is the only thing that keeps you alive." -Marianne Faithfull Dare to Believe by Boyce Avenue | Problem by Ariana Grande ft. Iggy Azalea I'm Heading Straight For the Castle ♠ Full-Birth Given Name ♠ "Maya Reyes. No, I don't possess a middle name." ♠ Preferred Name | Nickname ♠ "I tend to just go by 'Raven'. It's a nickname my mom gave me as a kid." ♠ Sex Identification ♠ Heterosexual female, here. ♠ Established In ♠ "May 20th, 2327. Yes, that makes me 20-years-old." ♠ Place of Birth ♠ New Orleans, Louisiana. ♠ Also Knowing ♠ "I carry a knife with me, it stays strapped to the inside of my jacket, while I also have an axe I keep at my hip. What?.. Safety Precautions." They Wanna Make Me Their Queen ♠ Rebel or Regime? ♠ "Rebel. Not hard to tell. I'm constantly on the run." ♠ Pokemon Companion ♠ "I have an Electabuzz with me." ♠ History with Pokemon ♠ "Well, I met Electabuzz as an Elekid. He used to hang around my childhood home, and occasionally I would feed him. Even brought him inside from the rain a few nights. My parents didn't like me playing with the wild pokemon, so it was kept quiet for a long time. Elekid, at the time, seemed to be very understanding. Around the time when I turned 15, I was getting deep into my rebellious stage and went so far as to sneak onto a Regime truck and steal a pokeball. Well, technically an Ultra ball. I made sure to find an Ultra because its colors matched Elekid's patterns. When I returned home that night, I couldn't find Elekid anywhere. I searched and searched but he was nowhere to be found. I thought maybe he'd gotten picked up by the Regime while I was gone, so I sat the ball ontop of my dresser and left it as a reminder, thinking I'd never see him again. The next morning, however, I found an Electabuzz in my front yard staring me down. Only thing that told me it wasn't going to attack was the genuine smile on its face. It didn't take me long to realize what had happened. I then asked the, now, Electabuzz if it'd go into a permanent partnership with me. I offered up the pokeball, and promised him if he ever felt threatened by me or just flat out didn't want to be around me anymore, I'd set him free. We've been together ever since. He's my best bud." ♠ Short Biography ♠ "I came from a low-class migrant farmer family who didn't have much to begin with. Poverty is a disease in our family, one spread from generation to generation, even before the wars f*cked everything up even worse. My parents made sure to give my brother and I the best education their money could afford, though. They, as well as my brother, gave up their lives to let me escape The Regime. Our parents were late on their payments, and The Regime came to claim what wasn't rightfully theirs. Since I had my own pokemon that wasn't registered, my parents advised me to leave. My brother tried to join me, but they caught on that we were on the run and he created a diversion. I've been on the run with Electabuzz ever since." ♠ Persona ♠ Upon a first meeting, Raven is usually rather quiet. Although she likes the company of people, she doesn't typically approach others unless she's pretty sure they'll welcome it. Once acquainted with someone, though, she can be quite animated and talkative, more lighthearted and teasing the closer she is to someone. She is fiercely loyal to the people she cares for, helping them at all costs, and is generally kind. Her friends can always rely on her for level-headed advice, a listening ear, or help with classwork--regarding the latter, she's a hard worker that usually enjoys the work she does, and is prone to trying to focus people back on the main subject or task at hand. If she doesn't know someone, however, she can be judgmental at times if someone seems ignorant or shallow; Raven is fairly quick to form opinions of people and sticks to her first impression, unless enough contrasting evidence is set before her. Raven is naturally outspoken and hates having to mask or hide herself and how she is. She knows how to keep quiet when she has recognized that caution and prudence are necessary, but would prefer to speak her mind, and can be rather blunt. Raven is opinionated and has things to say and ideas to give on everything, which contributes to activity in classes and discussions with her friends. She will doggedly uphold her beliefs no matter what. Raven has an acute sense of right and wrong. She believes in always doing what she believes is the right thing, no matter what other people say and think. She has a high sense of honor and returns assistance and even kindness to anyone who has done her a good turn, no matter how much she may dislike them. She is also usually, if grudgingly, fair, even if this is colored, again, by an inherent dislike of the person she is thinking about or referring to. Although fairly intelligent, and someone who will give her all and put her mind to something once she gets around to it, Raven's mind can tend to wander off, especially if something big is weighing on her mind and what she's doing is rather mundane. Someone who likes to see the "big picture", she can get caught up in it instead of focusing on what she's doing in the here and now unless they are tied together. However, it's rare that she doesn't complete a task that she's given, even if it starts in a delayed fashion. She tries her hardest to produce good results in whatever she does, and once she decides on a course of action, she is determined to follow it through to the end. Quite stubborn, it is extremely difficult for someone to change her mind after she's made a decision, though she can be influenced successfully while she is still considering her options. Although she tries to control her temper, it can be quite violent with proper provocation. During the end of the last war, she became much more easily provoked, taking more strongly to old prejudices; this has mostly worn off, but she experiences flare-ups occasionally. This was also accompanied by an increase in impulsiveness and recklessness, but she's really feeling more like her normal self, although a touch of extra spark and fire seems to be part of her for good. In her natural state, though, relatively free from any out-of-the-ordinary stress, Raven tries and usually succeeds in being clear-headed in her decisions, thinking things through. Although she seems rather unassuming, Raven also is fond of adventure and trying out new things. Because she believes that doing something worthwhile in the world is important, and that there are things that people are just meant to do, she's always wanted to keep doing different things to figure out what she's good at and what she's passionate about. To a degree, she also just enjoys a bit of danger and the unknown, even though she recognizes that stability is often better and has become much more cautious than she was when she was younger. When it comes down to it, Raven values simplicity and straightforwardness in life. To her it's comforting to have a goal and know who you can count on, and having both she feels quite at ease with life. Whatever she does though, there's very little that the young witch regrets, and she's proud of who she is and where she's been. ♠ Physical Description ♠ Raven doesn't stand much taller than 5'6" and weighs a petite 114lbs. Her Mexican and Native features truly stand out with her dark brown, almost black hair, tanned skin and dark eyes to match. She has full lashes and fixed eyebrows to go with them. Her facial expressions usually show she means business, and it's rare to see her smile, but given the chance, she lights up any room. She has two tattoos and a paper crane necklace she wears. One of the tattoos is of black wings, one on each shoulder/arm, to go along with her nickname. The other is a quote across her chest that reads, "Can't put your arms around a memory."

Niamh Elin Reimer Le bruit d'une explosion dans la distance a alerté Niamh d'abord, et la tension soudaine dans ses muscles a provoqué l'arrêt instinctif du Metang, en attendant les ordres. En direction de l'explosion, Niamh a commandé, en glissant son presse-papiers et son stylo dans son sac à dos avant de se tenir debout à nouveau. Dès qu'elle a dégagé les arbres, la source de l'explosion était claire : un Electabuzz, jaune vif et noir, zigzagnant dans la forêt avec son propriétaire rebelle. Ici, les choix de Niamh's s'ouvrent – elle peut soit voler et essayer de capturer le rebelle, soit elle peut agir l'insensé et simplement s'envoler vers l'épave. Cependant, si quelqu'un la voyait en l'air en ce moment, ils supposaient qu'elle n'avait pas l'intention de capturer l'entraîneur et donc aucune loyauté envers le Régime. Je suppose qu'une ou deux contusions convaincraient les aviateurs du département de l'Interrogation qu'un beau visage ne peut pas faire beaucoup en dehors du labo? Niamh pensé, froncement. "Metang—tête vers les évasions, pronto." Metang obéit, planant silencieusement mais rapidement. Niamh s'est agenouillée, s'emparant des poignées métalliques installées dans ce but-là, alors que la paire s'est retrouvée à un vol stationnaire dérivant au-dessus de l'Electabuzz et de son entraîneur, une fille aux cheveux noirs, à l'apparence de celui-ci. Niamh soupirait. Eh bien, ici rien ne va. Niamh a crié sur la fille. Arrêtez-vous là!

Niamh Reimer Face Claim: Barbara Palvin We cannot attribute to fortune or virtue that which is achieved without either. —Niccolo Machiavelli {Lana Del Rey — Born to Die} | {Halsey — Colors} The Road is Long, We Carry On Ω Full-Birth Given Name Ω Niamh Elin Reimer Ω Preferred Name | Nickname Ω Niamh. Reimer while on-duty. Ω Sex Identification Ω Heterosexual Female Ω Established In Ω September 21st, 2326 — 20 Ω Place of Birth Ω Los Angeles, California Ω Also Knowing Ω ”I’m nicer when I’m off-duty.” Try to Have Fun in the Meantime Ω Rebel or Regime? Ω Regime, Rebel-sympathizer Ω Pokemon Companion Ω A Sableye named Lennox and a Regime-assigned Metang Ω History with Pokemon Ω The Sableye was a neighborhood rumour, and Niamh didn’t catch a glimpse of it until she was 12 and her family home was being ransacked by the Regime for valuables. Furious at the Regime, Niamh had half a mind to just bury the valuables when she’d seen the drooling Pokemon. After feeding a jewelry box of gems to the Sableye, she’d been graced by his presence more often, and she soon found a strange sort of company with the Pokemon that was easier to hide than others, being able to phase through walls and melt into shadows and all. Niamh’s Metang is her assigned Pokemon, with an ID number of MT1938. Being largely metal, the Pokemon lacks personality and Niamh just uses it as transportation and to fulfill her assignments. Niamh once owned a Growlithe named Ayden back when she was 14 and in the lowest tiers of the Regime military, the Patrol Troops. As her duty was to patrol Regime land, she and her Growlithe spent much time together and soon became friends, albeit secretly. The puppy Pokemon was her dearest friend during her early days in the Regime, and she was heartbroken when she had to part with him. As most Pokemon have their memories blanked when passing through Regime headquarters, Niamh considers Ayden to be gone. Ω Short Biography Ω Niamh was born into a family of scientists that had been relatively prominent before the Regime took over. During the wars they’d fought against the Regime and aided the rebels, and that was their downfall. Niamh’s parents now live day-to-day serving the Regime and helping them design their Pokemon-trapping technology, never a thought of rebellion on their minds despite how badly they are treated, and it disgusts Niamh even though she still loves them. As the child of Regime supporters, she was recruited to join the Regime forces at age 14 when she was first given a Growlithe. Before that she’d attended the Regime academy where children are brainwashed to support them, but Niamh was able to tell truth from lies because she’d heard enough lies at home. She graduated two years early after mastering the skills necessary and was therefore allotted a Pokemon early as well. Over time, Niamh’s intelligence and aptitude for tracking down Pokemon became apparent, and she was switched to the Investigative Squads whose duty was to hunt down possible Pokemon and alert the Hunting Squads of them. At age 17, her Growlithe was confiscticated and she was given a Metang instead for this role. She now serves out her days in the squad, living in Regime headquarters where she aids Rebel forces when possible. Ω Persona Ω Before she discovered the horrors of the Regime, Niamh was a curious and kind-hearted child in a relatively wealthy and comfortable home. After she started attending the academy, however, Niamh quickly discovered that her world was a lie built on others’ suffering, and she quickly became reserved and cold. Her gentle side only came out towards her first Pokemon, but after he was confiscated Niamh withdrew into herself even more. There are cracks in her mask of indifference and contempt, but one would be hard-pressed to find them. Her brilliance and sheer aptitude for learning and making logical leaps has allowed Niamh to excel throughout her academy years. When she passed the graduation test at age 14, she was allowed to select between joining the research department or signing up for the Regime military. She chose the latter because joining the military meant she would be allotted a Pokemon even though her mind is arguably more suited for the former. Niamh is sharp-tongued and sees no point in honor in current times. She’d much rather save her own skin that someone else’s and doesn’t care much for innocence or guilt. However, all above principles go out the window should the downfall of the Regime be related. When it comes to bringing down the institution that controlled her life from before she existed, Niamh is all in, no matter the cost. Ω Physical Description Ω At slim 5’9” with lean muscle from field work, Niamh usually keeps her light brown hair tied back so that it’s not in her way. Weighing roughly 121 lb, Niamh wouldn’t be considered intimidating if one doesn’t see her piercing blue eyes. She often frowns and only pulls mocking or polite smiles when needed.

Ombre A quelques centaines de mètres, une jeune fille a regardé l'action à travers la portée de son fusil. Elle avait suivi la brune avec le presse-papiers, probablement l'un des soi-disant scientifiques, pendant un certain temps, à la recherche d'une opportunité. Les meurtres silencieux étaient les meilleurs quand il s'agissait de traiter avec le régime; l'ombre veillait pendant que Razor allait pour le meurtre. Au moment où quelqu'un s'est rendu compte de ce qui s'était passé, il serait trop tard; ils auraient la sécurité de la distance et leur proie serait complètement à l'écart. Sniping était fort et attirait l'attention, plus la chasse Pokemon étaient agaçantement bon à la traquer une fois qu'ils ont été lâchés, mais elle pouvait généralement obtenir deux ou trois avant d'avoir à bouger. Malheureusement, la présence du Metang et le manque général de couverture l'ont rendu plus difficile. Le pokémon en acier a toujours été difficile à tuer. Le prisonnier a rendu les choses plus compliquées. Shade savait mieux que la plupart qu'il tendait à être un état à très court terme, et il était rarement agréable. Elle l'avait déjà vu : en toute probabilité, la fille aurait un séjour temporaire dans une minuscule cellule, suivi d'un interrogatoire dans lequel tout était permis, puis une moquerie d'un procès avant son résumé, et peut-être une exécution télévisée publique. Si elle avait de la chance. Les malheureux étaient un exercice d'imagination que Shade préférait ne pas faire. Malheureusement, elle n'avait pas pu faire grand-chose. Tant que Shade aurait pu vouloir aider, la fille était entourée de soldats. Shade et Razor étaient bons, mais pas ça. Il faudrait être suicidaire pour s'en occuper. Apparemment, quelqu'un l'était. Un certain succès à elle, si les camions explosant étaient une indication. Un Electabuzz? Je ne savais pas qu'ils vivaient ici. Les choses ont commencé à bouger très vite, et très surprenant. L'Electabuzz a libéré la fille, et après un bref moment la paire a décollé, tout droit dans la direction de Shade. Il ne faudrait que quelques secondes aux gardes désorientés pour poursuivre. Sa cible précédente se déplaçait maintenant pour intercepter. Elle avait vu Metang se déplacer rapidement sur un terrain ouvert, mais les arbres l'obligeaient à ralentir ou à risquer de s'habiller sur une branche. Aussi étonnant que ce soit pour voir, le Régime s'est assuré que leur Pokémon étaient trop bien formés pour que cela se produise. Shade a pris sa décision. La fissure du fusil échoua à travers les arbres, et l'un des gardes pourchassant l'échappé fuyant s'abaissa au sol. Elle savait que Razor regardait tout, et le Sneasel était assez intelligent pour réaliser ce qu'elle voulait. Il ne serait pas content, mais il comprendrait. Loading in another round, elle a visé un grondage Growlithe qui se refermait sur les talons de la fille. Un autre coup de la gâchette, et le Puppy Pokemon est tombé sur la queue. Un flou noir sauta au milieu du sous-bois de la forêt, et le sang jaillit du cou d'un autre garde lorsque le Sneasel disparut aussi vite qu'il était arrivé. Il se dirige vers les arbres maintenant, attaque d'un autre point de vue. Shade a retourné son but à la scientifique fille. Elle se rapprochait maintenant, et si elle ordonnait à Metang d'utiliser ses capacités psychiques, ce serait fini pour l'échappé. Shade a pris le but, menant le tir, mais une cible en mouvement se dirigeant dans une direction perpendiculaire n'était pas un coup facile à faire, car la balle a attrapé le scientifique dans l'épaule et l'a frappé de son siège. C'est pas vrai! L'absence d'une mort propre lui a fait sordre les dents. Elle n'avait qu'une poignée de balles sur elle, et elle doutait qu'elle ait l'occasion de piller les corps. Cette fille qu'elle aidait a intérêt à en valoir la peine.

Isiah "Vantage" Vantas Everything is theoretically impossible, unti it is done. -Robert A. Heinlein How far we've come by Matchbox 20 | You're going down by Sick Puppies Start of the end of the world, but... ♍ Full-Birth Given Name ♍ "Isaiah Vantas, at your service." ♍ Preferred Name | Nickname ♍ "Isaiah is fine, if we're friends. Otherwise, call me Vantage." ♍ Sex Identification ♍ "I'm not sure why you need to know, but I'm a straight male." ♍ Established In ♍ "I'm 19 (or possibly, 20), Born August 28, 2328." ♍ Place of Birth ♍ "Boston, Massachusetts" ♍ Also Knowing ♍ "I know my way around a gun very well, though I don't carry one. I'm also damn good at climbing vertical surfaces." Its feeling just like every other morning before. ♍ Rebel or Regime? ♍ "Rebel. I want freedom, like the last books speak of..." ♍ Pokemon Companion ♍ "I've never had a Pokémon stick around, but I'd love a Gardevoir..." ♍ History with Pokemon ♍ "Like I said, I don't have any Pokémon, but you can be sure I'll tell you when I do." ♍ Short Biography ♍ "I never had a lot in life, but I never thought it was bad. My parents were like most others in my town. Poor, hard working, and always scared. But I thought that was just how people lived. That is, until I stumbled upon a group of rebel sympathizers on the outskirts of town. They were at peace, enjoying life with their Pokémon and doing everything they could to be happy. But it didn't last.... The regime came for them, and wiped out most of the town as well." "Since that event, I've been travelling around collecting books and recordings of the past... I want to recreate that world, where everyone could be happy, and where Pokémon were our friends, instead of the machines of war the Regime insists they are." {symbol of your choice} Persona {symbol of your choice} If Isaiah could be described fully in a single word, that word would be "curious." Curiosity is what drives Isaiah in most of his adventures. Sure, he has his reasons beyond it, but when he sees an abandoned library, a boarded up house, or an abandoned government facility, the first thought in his head is "I wonder what's in there...." Of course, this can lead to trouble, and is a big part of the reason Isaiah has so many bite mark shaped scars. Growlithe bites hurt. Of course, there is more to him than that. Isaiah is moderately intelligent, able to think up complex plans on the go, especially when it comes to escapes. Even in the thick of things, he is always analyzing his surroundings, finding tactical vantage points and escape vectors. If you ever get into trouble and need to find a way out of it, Isaiah is the one you would want to ask. Above and beyond that though, Isaiah tends to be average in his intelligence. But that doesn't matter to him, and he doesn't mind not being the smartest. Who cares after all, when you can escape almost any situation you need. Beyond those two things, Isaiah is a kind young man with a naivety about him. He is willing to trust almost anyone at least once, and likes to make friends. He acts younger than he is when he is relaxed, giving others the impression of immaturity. The truth though, is that Isaiah just wants to have fun while he can, and refuses to let a corrupt world push that down. However, put him into a serious situation, and you can count on him for serious backup. Isaiah also has latent violent tendencies. He used to carry a gun with him, which is how he developed a great skill as a marksman, and a knowledge of gun care and maintenance. However. He realized after some time that when he had the gun, he wanted to use the gun. After his first kill, an unarmed regime member who was going to report him, Isaiah took the gun apart completely, put it in a case, and let it stay in the bottom of his backpack, unusable. However, this hasn't prevented some of his more violent tendencies for getting out, and Isaiah has a great love for street fights, whether with thieves or unarmed Regime members. {symbol of your choice} Physical Description {symbol of your choice} Isaiah is tall, standing just at 6 feet. Dark brown, short hair covers his head in a messy form, and he is almost always wearing a hoodie and jeans to help disguise himself. If you were to get his hood off, you could see bite mark scars on his neck, and even more down his body if you pulled off his clothes. Intelligent blue eyes peek out from under thick bangs, and a twice broken nose, bent to one side, makes it impossible to think of him as classically attractive. Change log - changed birthday to August 29th.

Niamh Elin Reimer La douleur dans l'épaule de Niamh l'a surprise, pour le moins. Son cerveau lui a dit que c'était une blessure par balle et que la balle avait raté l'os, mais ses nerfs ont raconté une autre histoire d'agonie cruelle. L'impact de la balle l'a tellement choquée par l'emprise des Niamh sur les barres de Metang, la faisant tomber du Pokemon. Comme tous les Metang sont entraînés pour de telles situations, le Pokemon s'est rapidement essuyé et a pris son affectation dans un flou gris-bleu. L'agilité, Niamh reconnut sombrement, un léger sourire sur son visage. Content de voir que j'ai eu une des rares plaques de métal flottant avec des cerveaux. Niamh s'est prise de son côté pour se tenir sur le Metang. L'échappé avec l'Electabuzz n'était nulle part où être vu, mais maintenant Niamh avait une nouvelle cible — la fille qui lui avait tiré dessus. Niamh pouvait la voir clairement maintenant à travers les arbres, accroupissant avec un fusil. Leurs yeux se sont rencontrés. Le cerveau de Niamh a tourbillonné. Options : combat ou vol. Question : Le coup non létal était-il intentionnel? Oui: l'os a raté le tir, se déplaçant entre la clavicule et l'omoplate; n'a pas fait un second tir. Non : Un coup de feu aurait frappé la vena cava supérieure ou même l'aorte si n'avait pas bougé ; la position de la fille est tendue – me considère comme un danger. Une main s'empoignant fermement de son épaule pour endiguer le flux sanguin, les yeux de Niamh's scannaient la forêt ombreuse pour plus de vie. Un éclair de noir et de rouge indiquait qu'il y avait – probablement un Pokemon, à en juger par la vitesse. Par couleur, c'était probablement un Pokémon foncé. Metang. L'agilité et l'aimant s'élèvent, a dit Niamh, s'accroupissant et resserrant une main sur une barre. Le Metang s'est conformé, augmentant sa vitesse à un flou avant de s'élever plus loin du sol. Retour à la base. La paire a disparu dans un flash gris-bleu vers la base du Régime.

Niamh Reimer Face Claim: Barbara Palvin We cannot attribute to fortune or virtue that which is achieved without either. —Niccolo Machiavelli {Lana Del Rey — Born to Die} | {Halsey — Colors} The Road is Long, We Carry On Ω Full-Birth Given Name Ω Niamh Elin Reimer Ω Preferred Name | Nickname Ω Niamh. Reimer while on-duty. Ω Sex Identification Ω Heterosexual Female Ω Established In Ω September 21st, 2326 — 20 Ω Place of Birth Ω Los Angeles, California Ω Also Knowing Ω ”I’m nicer when I’m off-duty.” Try to Have Fun in the Meantime Ω Rebel or Regime? Ω Regime, Rebel-sympathizer Ω Pokemon Companion Ω A Sableye named Lennox and a Regime-assigned Metang Ω History with Pokemon Ω The Sableye was a neighborhood rumour, and Niamh didn’t catch a glimpse of it until she was 12 and her family home was being ransacked by the Regime for valuables. Furious at the Regime, Niamh had half a mind to just bury the valuables when she’d seen the drooling Pokemon. After feeding a jewelry box of gems to the Sableye, she’d been graced by his presence more often, and she soon found a strange sort of company with the Pokemon that was easier to hide than others, being able to phase through walls and melt into shadows and all. Niamh’s Metang is her assigned Pokemon, with an ID number of MT1938. Being largely metal, the Pokemon lacks personality and Niamh just uses it as transportation and to fulfill her assignments. Niamh once owned a Growlithe named Ayden back when she was 14 and in the lowest tiers of the Regime military, the Patrol Troops. As her duty was to patrol Regime land, she and her Growlithe spent much time together and soon became friends, albeit secretly. The puppy Pokemon was her dearest friend during her early days in the Regime, and she was heartbroken when she had to part with him. As most Pokemon have their memories blanked when passing through Regime headquarters, Niamh considers Ayden to be gone. Ω Short Biography Ω Niamh was born into a family of scientists that had been relatively prominent before the Regime took over. During the wars they’d fought against the Regime and aided the rebels, and that was their downfall. Niamh’s parents now live day-to-day serving the Regime and helping them design their Pokemon-trapping technology, never a thought of rebellion on their minds despite how badly they are treated, and it disgusts Niamh even though she still loves them. As the child of Regime supporters, she was recruited to join the Regime forces at age 14 when she was first given a Growlithe. Before that she’d attended the Regime academy where children are brainwashed to support them, but Niamh was able to tell truth from lies because she’d heard enough lies at home. She graduated two years early after mastering the skills necessary and was therefore allotted a Pokemon early as well. Over time, Niamh’s intelligence and aptitude for tracking down Pokemon became apparent, and she was switched to the Investigative Squads whose duty was to hunt down possible Pokemon and alert the Hunting Squads of them. At age 17, her Growlithe was confiscticated and she was given a Metang instead for this role. She now serves out her days in the squad, living in Regime headquarters where she aids Rebel forces when possible. Ω Persona Ω Before she discovered the horrors of the Regime, Niamh was a curious and kind-hearted child in a relatively wealthy and comfortable home. After she started attending the academy, however, Niamh quickly discovered that her world was a lie built on others’ suffering, and she quickly became reserved and cold. Her gentle side only came out towards her first Pokemon, but after he was confiscated Niamh withdrew into herself even more. There are cracks in her mask of indifference and contempt, but one would be hard-pressed to find them. Her brilliance and sheer aptitude for learning and making logical leaps has allowed Niamh to excel throughout her academy years. When she passed the graduation test at age 14, she was allowed to select between joining the research department or signing up for the Regime military. She chose the latter because joining the military meant she would be allotted a Pokemon even though her mind is arguably more suited for the former. Niamh is sharp-tongued and sees no point in honor in current times. She’d much rather save her own skin that someone else’s and doesn’t care much for innocence or guilt. However, all above principles go out the window should the downfall of the Regime be related. When it comes to bringing down the institution that controlled her life from before she existed, Niamh is all in, no matter the cost. Ω Physical Description Ω At slim 5’9” with lean muscle from field work, Niamh usually keeps her light brown hair tied back so that it’s not in her way. Weighing roughly 121 lb, Niamh wouldn’t be considered intimidating if one doesn’t see her piercing blue eyes. She often frowns and only pulls mocking or polite smiles when needed.

Interactions: Niemh (). Isaïe (). Jackson (Soi) Mention: Ombre () Raven courait aussi vite qu'elle le pouvait, mais bien sûr, personne n'était assez rapide pour dépasser les chiens entraînés du Régime. Elle pouvait les entendre venir de derrière elle, la suivant chaque plongeon et esquiver quand soudain un tir s'étendait à travers la vallée. Puis un autre, et soudain il n'y avait pas de traces de pas directement derrière h- et un autre tir. Maintenant, il n'y en avait pas qu'elle puisse entendre. Raven ralentit jusqu'à un arrêt pour reprendre son souffle, se tenant penchée les mains sur ses genoux, prenant longtemps, respire profondément. Par derrière, une voix a appelé. "Hé!" Raven a regardé par-dessus son épaule, en supposant qu'elle verrait son sauveteur. Elle avait tort. "Arrêtez-vous là!" Un scientifique du régime. Le cœur de Raven a chuté et elle a immédiatement poussé Electrabuzz dans une direction séparée pour courir et a commencé à courir une autre route. Elle ne serait pas attrapée, pas encore. Pas deux fois en un seul jour! Le grand pokemon en métal gagnait aussi sur elle, maintenant, et Raven ne craignait que le pire. Une autre fissure d'un coup de feu retentit, suivie d'un dur bruit derrière elle. Contre son meilleur jugement, Raven se tourna pour voir ce qui était arrivé à la scientifique qui avait été dans sa poursuite, la trouvant sur le terrain mais toujours très vivante. En scrutant rapidement la région environnante, elle a réalisé que le scientifique était le seul à la suivre. Raven sourit et commença à courir encore une fois, remerciant son ange gardien, qui que ce soit, et espérant qu'un jour ils traverseraient les sentiers pour qu'elle puisse lui rendre grâce. Elle avait été trop occupée à regarder derrière elle pour se rendre compte où exactement elle courait, et a couru directement sur un jeune homme () qui, à sa connaissance, avait grimpé l'arbre, les deux s'écroulant sur le sol. Raven l'a poussé loin d'elle, s'éloignant de lui alors qu'elle le regardait rapidement, réalisant qu'il n'était pas Régime. Elle a laissé sortir un soupir mental de soulagement. Mais pas grand-chose à sa surprise, comme elle regardait là-bas, il y avait un officier du Régime (Jackson) avec sa bravoure, les deux regardant vers le bas avec des expressions plates. "Casse-toi." Interactions: Isaïe () Jackson's Houndour à côté de lui a commencé à gronder doucement, il est dos légèrement arqué, la fourrure relevée le long de sa colonne vertébrale. En tenant son fusil, Jackson prit le but et balaya la forêt, tournant autour de lui quand il entendit ce qui sonnait comme un coup de branche d'arbre, un grognement féminin et un fort effondrement de poids. À seulement 20 pi de Jackson et Houndour, il y avait deux civils, l'un étant la fille qu'il avait vue échapper aux autres soldats. Evidemment, ils n'étaient pas ensemble par la façon dont ils se regardaient, mais la fille l'a regardé. Ses yeux s'élargissaient légèrement alors qu'elle se maudit. La fille avait l'air battue, et bien que ce n'était pas sa faute, Jackson se sentait mal lui-même. C'était le genre de chose qu'il avait été forcé de faire au fil des ans en étant l'un d'entre eux. Il y a eu un arrêt silencieux pendant une minute avant que Jackson descende lentement son arme, voyant que le garçon n'avait ni arme ni pokemon à ses côtés. Au moins ce qu'il savait. Le jeune homme, cherchant à ne pas être plus jeune que lui-même, ne lui ferait pas de mal. Jackson était un jeune homme respectueux en lui-même. Si un ennemi n'avait pas d'arme, il ne le ferait pas non plus. C'était si simple. Un vieux point de vue que le Régime riait. Tuer ou être tué. Le régime ne se laisse jamais être ce dernier, s'ils pouvaient l'aider. Jackson s'est rendu compte que l'Electabuzz de la fille n'était nulle part où être vu, mais avec le genre de destruction qu'il avait causé avec une bonne équipe de soldats et leur propre pokemon, il était clair que c'était un combat qu'il ne voulait pas choisir. Il a rapidement glissé son fusil sur son épaule, tenant les mains pour montrer qu'il n'avait pas de mal. Levant la main à son partenaire, Houndour vit le commandement silencieux et se calmait immédiatement, assis sur ses haunches aux côtés de Jackson, regardant juste les étrangers avant eux. "Mon nom est Jackson Kincaid." En regardant autour de lui pour être sûr qu'il n'y avait pas de soldats du Régime alentour, il rencontra de nouveau leurs yeux et continua : « Je ne veux pas vous faire de mal. » Jackson a avalé dur, seulement légèrement nerveux, ce manque d'Electabuzz était une vraie raison d'être. Bien que son instinct était d'essayer de localiser la bête dangereuse, Jackson a tenu son sol et a regardé les deux personnes avant lui. Il espérait qu'ils ne lui donneraient pas trop de peine s'ils décidaient d'interdire ensemble et d'essayer de le dépasser avec Houndour. On ne pouvait qu'espérer qu'ils seraient aussi civils qu'il essayait d'être, en ce moment.

Jackson Atticus Kincaid Face Claim: Jeremy Irvine "The price of being a sheep is boredom. The price of being a wolf is loneliness. Choose one or the other with great care." -Hugh Macleod In The End by Linkin Park | Sound the Bugle by Bryan Adams The Renegade Who Had It Made, Retrieved For A Bounty ☬ Full-Birth Given Name ☬ "Jackson Atticus Kincaid, at your service." ☬ Preferred Name | Nickname ☬ "I prefer to go by Jax, or Jack. Regime just address by last names." ☬ Sex Identification ☬ Bi-Sexual male. ☬ Established In ☬ "September 22, 2323. I'm 24-years-old." ☬ Place of Birth ☬ Queens, New York. ☬ Also Knowing ☬ "I still carry my shock baton and assault rifle with me, though my rifle has no rounds in it. Just for show, and to fool the fools that still think I'm Regime. I stay in my uniform for that specific reason, though I do have a change of clothes in my pack." This Will Be the End Today of a Wanted Man ☬ Rebel or Regime? ☬ Ex-Regime, turned Rebel. ☬ Pokemon Companion ☬ "I own a Houndour, who I've since named Grimm, that was given to me by the Regime. He and I used to just have a 'master and slave' type relationship as the Regime would have us treat our pokemon, but I've tried getting closer with him since I left. He seems to becoming more fond of me." ☬ History with Pokemon ☬ "I was given Grimm when I was an active soldier for the regime. It used to be, if I said jump he'd immediately do so. Now, he's become my only friend I have. We're trying to better the companionship we've started since I left." ☬ Short Biography ☬ "I grew up in a semi-wealthy family that didn't know what rationing was, like the lower class. My family was decently provided for, and we had relations with people in the Regime. My uncle, specifically, was a military captain. He brought me into the military under his wing when I was just 18 years old. Been a Regime soldier ever since. I know how to avoid them, so it's pretty easy for me to stay out of sight." ☬ Persona ☬ Jackson wants to be a hero, someone that everyone knows and reveres. But barring that, he’s willing to be a sort of dark knight. As the youngest of six and constantly disregarded, Jackson is independent and desperate to prove himself, wanting to show his personal talent and leave a legacy behind in the minds of everyone. But he’s not brash. He is content to observe and work quietly, and he’s very intelligent, which is no small aid. He thinks before he acts and is adept at seeing all sides and analyzing situations so he can act to his best advantage. He wants to be something and make something of himself; proving himself better than anyone could have expected is one of his highest priorities. Jackson's social skills need work. He has somewhat of a low tolerance for certain people and is dismissive of those who are loud, unsubtle, and quick to offer opinions for everything. Nevertheless, other people are often "entitled" to his opinion in the form of his biting sarcastic remarks. Other than that he is a quiet and even somewhat withdrawn guy. While he enjoys the company of some of people, solitude is a balm for him. He has to be able to think and study. Jackson is a knowledge seeker. He is one of those people who believe that knowledge and intelligence are central to success and power, so many things fascinate him and he could easily be found reading if he wasn't constantly on the run. In his mind no fact or understanding of a process or a tendency is unimportant or useless, and may help a person when they least expect it to. As such, he can usually provide extra information on most any subject, even if he gives it in a condescending manner. He is proud of what he knows, both the facts and the underlying understanding of how things work. Interestingly, though, Jackson’s quiet, studious exterior hides somewhat of a rebellious and unconventional streak. He likes to go his own way and will do it willingly. He also respects authority, but follows rules when it suits him—in other words, most of the time, but not if he has something else in mind that he deems worth the risk of losing points in the eyes of his higher ranking officers or perhaps damaging his image a little. However, as important as that is to him, these moments come very rarely. More frequently his unconventionality is manifested in an experimentative tendency. Jackson loves a challenge and he loves besting people, but it is usually a private victory for him. He needs not brag and draw attention to his success as long as he knows personally that he has won. However, this is not to say that he doesn’t need others’ acclaim. Being noticed is important to him, and he hates being ignored, but he would rather people notice by themselves how outstanding he truly is. That being said, criticism tends to bounce off of him as well--he is rather selective about what he hears and chooses to take to heart. Despite a sometimes ungracious manner, and a self-preserving and self-benefiting attitude, the guy is not bad at heart. He would always stick up for those he considers his friends, and is not averse to helping even strangers, after he is finished or providing it doesn’t inconvenience him. But when he is hurt, it is common to find him completely withdrawn and intractable, working only for himself in a kind of cool temper that can take a while to thaw out, even with the efforts of his closest friends. Unfortunately, Jackson is also prone to hold grudges after problems with others, and he is stubborn about them, though adaptable in other situations. Jackson is a careful and patient guy. He’ll watch and wait for a long time with an observant and analyzing eye without feeling a need to do anything himself, gaining something from everything he sees. Not only that, he’s good at making what he sees help him in some way. He’s also good at using all the resources he can to help him achieve whatever goal he has in mind. Jackson is driven and works diligently to achieve any goal he’s set for himself, and places these goals above most other things. As such, he’s very organized; he hates clutter and his personal space, personal appearance, and his management of time and such are all very neat and organized, often following a schedule or other method of keeping everything in its proper place and time. It bothers him when things aren’t set out clearly and prioritized so they can be followed right. He’s a very good multi-tasker and his organization helps him make sure everything gets accomplished exactly when and how he planned it to. If it doesn't, he'll fix it until it does. ☬ Physical Description ☬ Jackson is roughly 6'3" and weighs a total of 194lbs. He keeps his dark brown hair cropped kind of short, maybe only a couple inches in length. His eyes are a light grey color that turn almost hazel when he's upset, which is very rare to see with him. When he gets mad, they seem to turn almost black, they get so dark. His body is toned and he continues to maintain that each and every day. He'll exercise with his houndoor Grimm for hours, when he can. Maya "Raven" Reyes Face Claim: Lindsey Morgan "Rebellion is the only thing that keeps you alive." -Marianne Faithfull Dare to Believe by Boyce Avenue | Problem by Ariana Grande ft. Iggy Azalea I'm Heading Straight For the Castle ♠ Full-Birth Given Name ♠ "Maya Reyes. No, I don't possess a middle name." ♠ Preferred Name | Nickname ♠ "I tend to just go by 'Raven'. It's a nickname my mom gave me as a kid." ♠ Sex Identification ♠ Heterosexual female, here. ♠ Established In ♠ "May 20th, 2327. Yes, that makes me 20-years-old." ♠ Place of Birth ♠ New Orleans, Louisiana. ♠ Also Knowing ♠ "I carry a knife with me, it stays strapped to the inside of my jacket, while I also have an axe I keep at my hip. What?.. Safety Precautions." They Wanna Make Me Their Queen ♠ Rebel or Regime? ♠ "Rebel. Not hard to tell. I'm constantly on the run." ♠ Pokemon Companion ♠ "I have an Electabuzz with me." ♠ History with Pokemon ♠ "Well, I met Electabuzz as an Elekid. He used to hang around my childhood home, and occasionally I would feed him. Even brought him inside from the rain a few nights. My parents didn't like me playing with the wild pokemon, so it was kept quiet for a long time. Elekid, at the time, seemed to be very understanding. Around the time when I turned 15, I was getting deep into my rebellious stage and went so far as to sneak onto a Regime truck and steal a pokeball. Well, technically an Ultra ball. I made sure to find an Ultra because its colors matched Elekid's patterns. When I returned home that night, I couldn't find Elekid anywhere. I searched and searched but he was nowhere to be found. I thought maybe he'd gotten picked up by the Regime while I was gone, so I sat the ball ontop of my dresser and left it as a reminder, thinking I'd never see him again. The next morning, however, I found an Electabuzz in my front yard staring me down. Only thing that told me it wasn't going to attack was the genuine smile on its face. It didn't take me long to realize what had happened. I then asked the, now, Electabuzz if it'd go into a permanent partnership with me. I offered up the pokeball, and promised him if he ever felt threatened by me or just flat out didn't want to be around me anymore, I'd set him free. We've been together ever since. He's my best bud." ♠ Short Biography ♠ "I came from a low-class migrant farmer family who didn't have much to begin with. Poverty is a disease in our family, one spread from generation to generation, even before the wars f*cked everything up even worse. My parents made sure to give my brother and I the best education their money could afford, though. They, as well as my brother, gave up their lives to let me escape The Regime. Our parents were late on their payments, and The Regime came to claim what wasn't rightfully theirs. Since I had my own pokemon that wasn't registered, my parents advised me to leave. My brother tried to join me, but they caught on that we were on the run and he created a diversion. I've been on the run with Electabuzz ever since." ♠ Persona ♠ Upon a first meeting, Raven is usually rather quiet. Although she likes the company of people, she doesn't typically approach others unless she's pretty sure they'll welcome it. Once acquainted with someone, though, she can be quite animated and talkative, more lighthearted and teasing the closer she is to someone. She is fiercely loyal to the people she cares for, helping them at all costs, and is generally kind. Her friends can always rely on her for level-headed advice, a listening ear, or help with classwork--regarding the latter, she's a hard worker that usually enjoys the work she does, and is prone to trying to focus people back on the main subject or task at hand. If she doesn't know someone, however, she can be judgmental at times if someone seems ignorant or shallow; Raven is fairly quick to form opinions of people and sticks to her first impression, unless enough contrasting evidence is set before her. Raven is naturally outspoken and hates having to mask or hide herself and how she is. She knows how to keep quiet when she has recognized that caution and prudence are necessary, but would prefer to speak her mind, and can be rather blunt. Raven is opinionated and has things to say and ideas to give on everything, which contributes to activity in classes and discussions with her friends. She will doggedly uphold her beliefs no matter what. Raven has an acute sense of right and wrong. She believes in always doing what she believes is the right thing, no matter what other people say and think. She has a high sense of honor and returns assistance and even kindness to anyone who has done her a good turn, no matter how much she may dislike them. She is also usually, if grudgingly, fair, even if this is colored, again, by an inherent dislike of the person she is thinking about or referring to. Although fairly intelligent, and someone who will give her all and put her mind to something once she gets around to it, Raven's mind can tend to wander off, especially if something big is weighing on her mind and what she's doing is rather mundane. Someone who likes to see the "big picture", she can get caught up in it instead of focusing on what she's doing in the here and now unless they are tied together. However, it's rare that she doesn't complete a task that she's given, even if it starts in a delayed fashion. She tries her hardest to produce good results in whatever she does, and once she decides on a course of action, she is determined to follow it through to the end. Quite stubborn, it is extremely difficult for someone to change her mind after she's made a decision, though she can be influenced successfully while she is still considering her options. Although she tries to control her temper, it can be quite violent with proper provocation. During the end of the last war, she became much more easily provoked, taking more strongly to old prejudices; this has mostly worn off, but she experiences flare-ups occasionally. This was also accompanied by an increase in impulsiveness and recklessness, but she's really feeling more like her normal self, although a touch of extra spark and fire seems to be part of her for good. In her natural state, though, relatively free from any out-of-the-ordinary stress, Raven tries and usually succeeds in being clear-headed in her decisions, thinking things through. Although she seems rather unassuming, Raven also is fond of adventure and trying out new things. Because she believes that doing something worthwhile in the world is important, and that there are things that people are just meant to do, she's always wanted to keep doing different things to figure out what she's good at and what she's passionate about. To a degree, she also just enjoys a bit of danger and the unknown, even though she recognizes that stability is often better and has become much more cautious than she was when she was younger. When it comes down to it, Raven values simplicity and straightforwardness in life. To her it's comforting to have a goal and know who you can count on, and having both she feels quite at ease with life. Whatever she does though, there's very little that the young witch regrets, and she's proud of who she is and where she's been. ♠ Physical Description ♠ Raven doesn't stand much taller than 5'6" and weighs a petite 114lbs. Her Mexican and Native features truly stand out with her dark brown, almost black hair, tanned skin and dark eyes to match. She has full lashes and fixed eyebrows to go with them. Her facial expressions usually show she means business, and it's rare to see her smile, but given the chance, she lights up any room. She has two tattoos and a paper crane necklace she wears. One of the tattoos is of black wings, one on each shoulder/arm, to go along with her nickname. The other is a quote across her chest that reads, "Can't put your arms around a memory."

Isaïe grondait alors que la femme courait vers lui par derrière, les frappant tous les deux dans le sol. "Oh pour l'amour de tout ce qui est saint." Il gémit, regardant dans les yeux de la femme alors qu'elle reculait. "Eh bien. C'est inattendu... » Il s'est penché sur le soi-disant officier du régime, se tournant et retournant sur ses pieds dans un mouvement fluide qui a gardé les yeux sur Jackson en tout temps. Sa main est revenue à sa hanche, où l'arme qu'il portait autrefois ne reposait plus ouvertement. "Super..." Puis Jackson se présenta et les sourcils d'Isaïe se levèrent. Il a examiné les possibilités. Il n'avait pas de pokemon, et n'était pas armé. L'homme avait évidemment les deux. Isaïe n'était pas sûre de ce qu'elle avait. Mais il avait l'impression qu'elle ne tenait pas d'arme. Les membres non-régimes avaient tendance à tirer en premier, à poser des questions plus tard lorsque leur vie était en danger. Et pour une bonne raison. Alors... Il n'y avait aucune raison pour que Jackson les garde en vie s'il était membre du régime. Du moins, pas sans utiliser son arme pour le faire. "Juste... appelez-moi la vue..." Il a dit, en regardant les deux et en attendant, les genoux pliés certains et une nature évidemment prudente à son langage du corps.

Jackson Atticus Kincaid Face Claim: Jeremy Irvine "The price of being a sheep is boredom. The price of being a wolf is loneliness. Choose one or the other with great care." -Hugh Macleod In The End by Linkin Park | Sound the Bugle by Bryan Adams The Renegade Who Had It Made, Retrieved For A Bounty ☬ Full-Birth Given Name ☬ "Jackson Atticus Kincaid, at your service." ☬ Preferred Name | Nickname ☬ "I prefer to go by Jax, or Jack. Regime just address by last names." ☬ Sex Identification ☬ Bi-Sexual male. ☬ Established In ☬ "September 22, 2323. I'm 24-years-old." ☬ Place of Birth ☬ Queens, New York. ☬ Also Knowing ☬ "I still carry my shock baton and assault rifle with me, though my rifle has no rounds in it. Just for show, and to fool the fools that still think I'm Regime. I stay in my uniform for that specific reason, though I do have a change of clothes in my pack." This Will Be the End Today of a Wanted Man ☬ Rebel or Regime? ☬ Ex-Regime, turned Rebel. ☬ Pokemon Companion ☬ "I own a Houndour, who I've since named Grimm, that was given to me by the Regime. He and I used to just have a 'master and slave' type relationship as the Regime would have us treat our pokemon, but I've tried getting closer with him since I left. He seems to becoming more fond of me." ☬ History with Pokemon ☬ "I was given Grimm when I was an active soldier for the regime. It used to be, if I said jump he'd immediately do so. Now, he's become my only friend I have. We're trying to better the companionship we've started since I left." ☬ Short Biography ☬ "I grew up in a semi-wealthy family that didn't know what rationing was, like the lower class. My family was decently provided for, and we had relations with people in the Regime. My uncle, specifically, was a military captain. He brought me into the military under his wing when I was just 18 years old. Been a Regime soldier ever since. I know how to avoid them, so it's pretty easy for me to stay out of sight." ☬ Persona ☬ Jackson wants to be a hero, someone that everyone knows and reveres. But barring that, he’s willing to be a sort of dark knight. As the youngest of six and constantly disregarded, Jackson is independent and desperate to prove himself, wanting to show his personal talent and leave a legacy behind in the minds of everyone. But he’s not brash. He is content to observe and work quietly, and he’s very intelligent, which is no small aid. He thinks before he acts and is adept at seeing all sides and analyzing situations so he can act to his best advantage. He wants to be something and make something of himself; proving himself better than anyone could have expected is one of his highest priorities. Jackson's social skills need work. He has somewhat of a low tolerance for certain people and is dismissive of those who are loud, unsubtle, and quick to offer opinions for everything. Nevertheless, other people are often "entitled" to his opinion in the form of his biting sarcastic remarks. Other than that he is a quiet and even somewhat withdrawn guy. While he enjoys the company of some of people, solitude is a balm for him. He has to be able to think and study. Jackson is a knowledge seeker. He is one of those people who believe that knowledge and intelligence are central to success and power, so many things fascinate him and he could easily be found reading if he wasn't constantly on the run. In his mind no fact or understanding of a process or a tendency is unimportant or useless, and may help a person when they least expect it to. As such, he can usually provide extra information on most any subject, even if he gives it in a condescending manner. He is proud of what he knows, both the facts and the underlying understanding of how things work. Interestingly, though, Jackson’s quiet, studious exterior hides somewhat of a rebellious and unconventional streak. He likes to go his own way and will do it willingly. He also respects authority, but follows rules when it suits him—in other words, most of the time, but not if he has something else in mind that he deems worth the risk of losing points in the eyes of his higher ranking officers or perhaps damaging his image a little. However, as important as that is to him, these moments come very rarely. More frequently his unconventionality is manifested in an experimentative tendency. Jackson loves a challenge and he loves besting people, but it is usually a private victory for him. He needs not brag and draw attention to his success as long as he knows personally that he has won. However, this is not to say that he doesn’t need others’ acclaim. Being noticed is important to him, and he hates being ignored, but he would rather people notice by themselves how outstanding he truly is. That being said, criticism tends to bounce off of him as well--he is rather selective about what he hears and chooses to take to heart. Despite a sometimes ungracious manner, and a self-preserving and self-benefiting attitude, the guy is not bad at heart. He would always stick up for those he considers his friends, and is not averse to helping even strangers, after he is finished or providing it doesn’t inconvenience him. But when he is hurt, it is common to find him completely withdrawn and intractable, working only for himself in a kind of cool temper that can take a while to thaw out, even with the efforts of his closest friends. Unfortunately, Jackson is also prone to hold grudges after problems with others, and he is stubborn about them, though adaptable in other situations. Jackson is a careful and patient guy. He’ll watch and wait for a long time with an observant and analyzing eye without feeling a need to do anything himself, gaining something from everything he sees. Not only that, he’s good at making what he sees help him in some way. He’s also good at using all the resources he can to help him achieve whatever goal he has in mind. Jackson is driven and works diligently to achieve any goal he’s set for himself, and places these goals above most other things. As such, he’s very organized; he hates clutter and his personal space, personal appearance, and his management of time and such are all very neat and organized, often following a schedule or other method of keeping everything in its proper place and time. It bothers him when things aren’t set out clearly and prioritized so they can be followed right. He’s a very good multi-tasker and his organization helps him make sure everything gets accomplished exactly when and how he planned it to. If it doesn't, he'll fix it until it does. ☬ Physical Description ☬ Jackson is roughly 6'3" and weighs a total of 194lbs. He keeps his dark brown hair cropped kind of short, maybe only a couple inches in length. His eyes are a light grey color that turn almost hazel when he's upset, which is very rare to see with him. When he gets mad, they seem to turn almost black, they get so dark. His body is toned and he continues to maintain that each and every day. He'll exercise with his houndoor Grimm for hours, when he can. Maya "Raven" Reyes Face Claim: Lindsey Morgan "Rebellion is the only thing that keeps you alive." -Marianne Faithfull Dare to Believe by Boyce Avenue | Problem by Ariana Grande ft. Iggy Azalea I'm Heading Straight For the Castle ♠ Full-Birth Given Name ♠ "Maya Reyes. No, I don't possess a middle name." ♠ Preferred Name | Nickname ♠ "I tend to just go by 'Raven'. It's a nickname my mom gave me as a kid." ♠ Sex Identification ♠ Heterosexual female, here. ♠ Established In ♠ "May 20th, 2327. Yes, that makes me 20-years-old." ♠ Place of Birth ♠ New Orleans, Louisiana. ♠ Also Knowing ♠ "I carry a knife with me, it stays strapped to the inside of my jacket, while I also have an axe I keep at my hip. What?.. Safety Precautions." They Wanna Make Me Their Queen ♠ Rebel or Regime? ♠ "Rebel. Not hard to tell. I'm constantly on the run." ♠ Pokemon Companion ♠ "I have an Electabuzz with me." ♠ History with Pokemon ♠ "Well, I met Electabuzz as an Elekid. He used to hang around my childhood home, and occasionally I would feed him. Even brought him inside from the rain a few nights. My parents didn't like me playing with the wild pokemon, so it was kept quiet for a long time. Elekid, at the time, seemed to be very understanding. Around the time when I turned 15, I was getting deep into my rebellious stage and went so far as to sneak onto a Regime truck and steal a pokeball. Well, technically an Ultra ball. I made sure to find an Ultra because its colors matched Elekid's patterns. When I returned home that night, I couldn't find Elekid anywhere. I searched and searched but he was nowhere to be found. I thought maybe he'd gotten picked up by the Regime while I was gone, so I sat the ball ontop of my dresser and left it as a reminder, thinking I'd never see him again. The next morning, however, I found an Electabuzz in my front yard staring me down. Only thing that told me it wasn't going to attack was the genuine smile on its face. It didn't take me long to realize what had happened. I then asked the, now, Electabuzz if it'd go into a permanent partnership with me. I offered up the pokeball, and promised him if he ever felt threatened by me or just flat out didn't want to be around me anymore, I'd set him free. We've been together ever since. He's my best bud." ♠ Short Biography ♠ "I came from a low-class migrant farmer family who didn't have much to begin with. Poverty is a disease in our family, one spread from generation to generation, even before the wars f*cked everything up even worse. My parents made sure to give my brother and I the best education their money could afford, though. They, as well as my brother, gave up their lives to let me escape The Regime. Our parents were late on their payments, and The Regime came to claim what wasn't rightfully theirs. Since I had my own pokemon that wasn't registered, my parents advised me to leave. My brother tried to join me, but they caught on that we were on the run and he created a diversion. I've been on the run with Electabuzz ever since." ♠ Persona ♠ Upon a first meeting, Raven is usually rather quiet. Although she likes the company of people, she doesn't typically approach others unless she's pretty sure they'll welcome it. Once acquainted with someone, though, she can be quite animated and talkative, more lighthearted and teasing the closer she is to someone. She is fiercely loyal to the people she cares for, helping them at all costs, and is generally kind. Her friends can always rely on her for level-headed advice, a listening ear, or help with classwork--regarding the latter, she's a hard worker that usually enjoys the work she does, and is prone to trying to focus people back on the main subject or task at hand. If she doesn't know someone, however, she can be judgmental at times if someone seems ignorant or shallow; Raven is fairly quick to form opinions of people and sticks to her first impression, unless enough contrasting evidence is set before her. Raven is naturally outspoken and hates having to mask or hide herself and how she is. She knows how to keep quiet when she has recognized that caution and prudence are necessary, but would prefer to speak her mind, and can be rather blunt. Raven is opinionated and has things to say and ideas to give on everything, which contributes to activity in classes and discussions with her friends. She will doggedly uphold her beliefs no matter what. Raven has an acute sense of right and wrong. She believes in always doing what she believes is the right thing, no matter what other people say and think. She has a high sense of honor and returns assistance and even kindness to anyone who has done her a good turn, no matter how much she may dislike them. She is also usually, if grudgingly, fair, even if this is colored, again, by an inherent dislike of the person she is thinking about or referring to. Although fairly intelligent, and someone who will give her all and put her mind to something once she gets around to it, Raven's mind can tend to wander off, especially if something big is weighing on her mind and what she's doing is rather mundane. Someone who likes to see the "big picture", she can get caught up in it instead of focusing on what she's doing in the here and now unless they are tied together. However, it's rare that she doesn't complete a task that she's given, even if it starts in a delayed fashion. She tries her hardest to produce good results in whatever she does, and once she decides on a course of action, she is determined to follow it through to the end. Quite stubborn, it is extremely difficult for someone to change her mind after she's made a decision, though she can be influenced successfully while she is still considering her options. Although she tries to control her temper, it can be quite violent with proper provocation. During the end of the last war, she became much more easily provoked, taking more strongly to old prejudices; this has mostly worn off, but she experiences flare-ups occasionally. This was also accompanied by an increase in impulsiveness and recklessness, but she's really feeling more like her normal self, although a touch of extra spark and fire seems to be part of her for good. In her natural state, though, relatively free from any out-of-the-ordinary stress, Raven tries and usually succeeds in being clear-headed in her decisions, thinking things through. Although she seems rather unassuming, Raven also is fond of adventure and trying out new things. Because she believes that doing something worthwhile in the world is important, and that there are things that people are just meant to do, she's always wanted to keep doing different things to figure out what she's good at and what she's passionate about. To a degree, she also just enjoys a bit of danger and the unknown, even though she recognizes that stability is often better and has become much more cautious than she was when she was younger. When it comes down to it, Raven values simplicity and straightforwardness in life. To her it's comforting to have a goal and know who you can count on, and having both she feels quite at ease with life. Whatever she does though, there's very little that the young witch regrets, and she's proud of who she is and where she's been. ♠ Physical Description ♠ Raven doesn't stand much taller than 5'6" and weighs a petite 114lbs. Her Mexican and Native features truly stand out with her dark brown, almost black hair, tanned skin and dark eyes to match. She has full lashes and fixed eyebrows to go with them. Her facial expressions usually show she means business, and it's rare to see her smile, but given the chance, she lights up any room. She has two tattoos and a paper crane necklace she wears. One of the tattoos is of black wings, one on each shoulder/arm, to go along with her nickname. The other is a quote across her chest that reads, "Can't put your arms around a memory."

Ombre Un léger bruit de bruissement est venu de l'arbre derrière Jackson, et une forme sombre est tombée sur son dos. Avant que quelqu'un puisse respirer, le Sneasel déchaîna une de ses griffes et le pressa contre l'ancien soldat du Régime, parfaitement placé pour trancher une ligne tout droit. Il lui faudrait beaucoup moins d'une minute pour saigner, bien qu'il serait mort bien avant alors de ses poumons se remplir de son propre sang. Pour plusieurs battements de cœur, le silence tomba sur le groupe, puis une voix féminine cria des arbres. Qu'est-ce que tu attends, Razor? Tuez-le. Les yeux de Sneasel s'affrontaient entre son captif et le groupe debout devant eux plusieurs fois, et il faisait un bruit qui était quelque part entre le sifflement et le cri. Qu'est-ce que tu veux dire, "no"?" L'ombre sortait des arbres, grondant durement. Elle était furieuse que la scientifique fille avait survécu, et pas d'humeur à être miséricordieux. Le régime de He He, nous tuons des bâtards comme lui.Razor répondit avec un bruit criant, bien qu'il n'enlevât pas sa griffe de la gorge de Jackson, et Shade's schowl devint encore plus sombre. Je me fiche de ce qu'il a dit! Il est avec le régime, il mérite de mourir.

Isiah "Vantage" Vantas Everything is theoretically impossible, unti it is done. -Robert A. Heinlein How far we've come by Matchbox 20 | You're going down by Sick Puppies Start of the end of the world, but... ♍ Full-Birth Given Name ♍ "Isaiah Vantas, at your service." ♍ Preferred Name | Nickname ♍ "Isaiah is fine, if we're friends. Otherwise, call me Vantage." ♍ Sex Identification ♍ "I'm not sure why you need to know, but I'm a straight male." ♍ Established In ♍ "I'm 19 (or possibly, 20), Born August 28, 2328." ♍ Place of Birth ♍ "Boston, Massachusetts" ♍ Also Knowing ♍ "I know my way around a gun very well, though I don't carry one. I'm also damn good at climbing vertical surfaces." Its feeling just like every other morning before. ♍ Rebel or Regime? ♍ "Rebel. I want freedom, like the last books speak of..." ♍ Pokemon Companion ♍ "I've never had a Pokémon stick around, but I'd love a Gardevoir..." ♍ History with Pokemon ♍ "Like I said, I don't have any Pokémon, but you can be sure I'll tell you when I do." ♍ Short Biography ♍ "I never had a lot in life, but I never thought it was bad. My parents were like most others in my town. Poor, hard working, and always scared. But I thought that was just how people lived. That is, until I stumbled upon a group of rebel sympathizers on the outskirts of town. They were at peace, enjoying life with their Pokémon and doing everything they could to be happy. But it didn't last.... The regime came for them, and wiped out most of the town as well." "Since that event, I've been travelling around collecting books and recordings of the past... I want to recreate that world, where everyone could be happy, and where Pokémon were our friends, instead of the machines of war the Regime insists they are." {symbol of your choice} Persona {symbol of your choice} If Isaiah could be described fully in a single word, that word would be "curious." Curiosity is what drives Isaiah in most of his adventures. Sure, he has his reasons beyond it, but when he sees an abandoned library, a boarded up house, or an abandoned government facility, the first thought in his head is "I wonder what's in there...." Of course, this can lead to trouble, and is a big part of the reason Isaiah has so many bite mark shaped scars. Growlithe bites hurt. Of course, there is more to him than that. Isaiah is moderately intelligent, able to think up complex plans on the go, especially when it comes to escapes. Even in the thick of things, he is always analyzing his surroundings, finding tactical vantage points and escape vectors. If you ever get into trouble and need to find a way out of it, Isaiah is the one you would want to ask. Above and beyond that though, Isaiah tends to be average in his intelligence. But that doesn't matter to him, and he doesn't mind not being the smartest. Who cares after all, when you can escape almost any situation you need. Beyond those two things, Isaiah is a kind young man with a naivety about him. He is willing to trust almost anyone at least once, and likes to make friends. He acts younger than he is when he is relaxed, giving others the impression of immaturity. The truth though, is that Isaiah just wants to have fun while he can, and refuses to let a corrupt world push that down. However, put him into a serious situation, and you can count on him for serious backup. Isaiah also has latent violent tendencies. He used to carry a gun with him, which is how he developed a great skill as a marksman, and a knowledge of gun care and maintenance. However. He realized after some time that when he had the gun, he wanted to use the gun. After his first kill, an unarmed regime member who was going to report him, Isaiah took the gun apart completely, put it in a case, and let it stay in the bottom of his backpack, unusable. However, this hasn't prevented some of his more violent tendencies for getting out, and Isaiah has a great love for street fights, whether with thieves or unarmed Regime members. {symbol of your choice} Physical Description {symbol of your choice} Isaiah is tall, standing just at 6 feet. Dark brown, short hair covers his head in a messy form, and he is almost always wearing a hoodie and jeans to help disguise himself. If you were to get his hood off, you could see bite mark scars on his neck, and even more down his body if you pulled off his clothes. Intelligent blue eyes peek out from under thick bangs, and a twice broken nose, bent to one side, makes it impossible to think of him as classically attractive. Change log - changed birthday to August 29th.

Lilith Lilith était seule sur une colline surplombant la vallée en dessous d'elle. Mais elle n'était pas sûre. Regarder - ne rien faire - était un travail ennuyeux, un pour les petits soldats, pas des opérations spéciques. Pourtant, son commandant lui avait ordonné de veiller sur le meurtre, de s'assurer que rien ne s'est mal passé. « C'est une cible hautement prioritaire, très dangereuse », a-t-il dit. C'est de la merde. J'ai pensé à Lilith. Elle était assez certaine qu'il ne faisait que la punir pour sa dernière mission, qui s'était terminée par un échec. Si quelqu'un m'avait écoutée plutôt que de s'enfuir pour jouer -- la pensée a été coupée par une certaine commotion sur scène. Ses yeux se concentraient sur l'Electabuzz qui venait de faire son entrée explosive. "Wow. Pourquoi ne peux-tu pas être aussi utile? » Elle semblait dire au vent. En réponse, une langue errante s'est matérialisée à partir d'air mince, suivie du bruit de quelqu'un soufflant une framboise. Lilith pensait qu'elle était maintenant couverte d'une sorte de crachat ectoplasmique sans forme. "Tu es une telle enfant," dit-elle avec dédain, "Tu sais quoi faire. Gengar, tuez." Avec cela, l'apparition l'a laissée, en dehors de - espérons-s'acquitter de ses fonctions. Bien qu'habituellement peu peuplée, cette forêt était assez animée à l'heure actuelle. De sa position au-dessus de l'action, Lilith regarda tout se dérouler. Le rebelle en bas semblait s'enfuir. À la poursuite, la scientifique, a flotté sur son Metang de couleur standard. Le tireur d'élite - que Lilith aurait manqué si elle n'avait pas été entraînée à chercher l'éblouissement d'un champ ennemi - était stationné à une position sur la colline adjacente. Après avoir regardé le sniper descendre deux de ses compadres de régime, Lilith a déterminé qu'il était la cible la plus vitale; le frisson de la poursuite allait bientôt commencer. Espérons que Gengar serait déjà là, en position pour le moment où il était nécessaire. Avec cela, Lilith se mit silencieusement à se diriger vers la cible. Elle espérait, à tout le moins, que celui-ci serait plus difficile que ceux qui l'avaient précédé. Heureusement pour Lilith, elle était sous le vent de la cible, qui est maintenant devenue un groupe de cibles. J'ai de la chance! Elle a pensé, heureux de trouver une telle aide de... des jouets. D'un point de vue au-dessus de la clairière dans laquelle les quatre rebelles s'étaient maintenant rassemblés, Lilith attendait. Enfin, elle a vu une vague de lumière devant le tireur d'élite. Simultanément, toute la lumière dans la clairière semblait s'estomper, l'air poussant soudainement plus froid. De la terre s'élevait une sombre obscurité. Avec son pokémon préoccupé, elle est aussi bonne que morte. Lilith pensait comme un Gengar formé de l'étrange noirceur. La performance allait si bien, Lilith a dû lutter contre les frissons. Elle soupçonnait d'ici là que les rebelles pouvaient aussi trembler, mais pour une raison tout à fait différente. Les yeux rouges de sang nivelés avec ceux du tireur d'élite, assez rapidement pour empêcher une réponse, mais pas assez pour qu'aucune peur ne puisse être ressentie par la victime. Lilith a laissé un rire shrill à la vue de son succès. Attendez une minute. Le tireur d'élite n'était pas encore mort. La tête de Lilith tourna en question. Ce que... Lilith a réalisé avec appréhension que Gengar n'avait en fait pas tué la cible, mais avait plutôt passé une langue humide et visqueuse sur son visage. Aussi vite qu'il était apparu, Gengar disparut dans le vent. "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH Imbécile!" Lilith a crié. "Jusqu'à la prochaine fois! Je n'en ai pas encore fini avec toi!" Elle a crié au groupe au-dessous d'elle tout en reculant dans les profondeurs de la forêt. Lilith, une fois qu'elle s'est assez éloignée pour être sûre qu'elle ne serait pas détectée, a appelé l'échec dans son commandant. Bien qu'elle s'attende à une punition, elle reçoit plutôt plus d'ordres. Suivez-les. Découvre ce qu'ils font. Nous devons savoir si la rébellion s'organise à nouveau.

Aiden Iri "Today is as good as any to die." -Unknown ~Life is a highway - Tom Cochrane || ~Born to be wild - Steppenwolf Specs 🔥 Full Name 🔥 Aiden Iri 🔥 Nickname 🔥 Uhhh... see above. 🔥 Sex Identification 🔥 Male, straight. 🔥 Birth-date 🔥 4 May 2323 ; 24yo 🔥 Place of Birth 🔥 Anchorage, AK 🔥 Additional Info 🔥 6'2"; 194 lbs; lean build History 🔥 Rebel or Regime? 🔥 REBEL 🔥 Pokemon Companion 🔥 Eithina, an Eevee 🔥 History with Pokemon 🔥 Found Eithina a few years back, running from some regime thugs. Abandoned in a alley, beat to hell; I couldn't just leave her there. Course, I always knew how to take care of animals, what with me growing up on a farm an' all. Fixing her up was no trouble. As for her fear of others, we're still workin' on that. As for now, I keep her safe, she keeps me company. Anyway that's the short of it." 🔥 Short Biography 🔥 "I was taught since birth to defend my principles, what I saw right, on pain of death. Both my ma and pa believed this, lived it. All well and good, 'til they were killed for it. Bunch of regime assholes sayin' the farm wasn't producing enough and that they would have to take it over. Course they took it in the end anyways. With nothin' but the blood of my loved ones holding me to the land, I ran. I was...probably fifteen at the time. Been runnin' ever since, looking for a chance to avenge my kin and all the others the regime has wronged." Aiden lived on a miltank / cattle farm in his early years. Despite the regime's tight grasp on everything, it was perhaps the only way people had any freedom at the time. The regime, with a very watchful eye, allowed Aiden's family to live outside the city, on regime government land populated by regime animals. 🔥 Persona 🔥 Aiden is a driven spirit, more-so than many others. His belief is that a man's only worth the sweat on his brow and the strength of his back. That is to say, he believes strongly in the power of hard work. Before his parents' death, he had drive. Though his past changed him, it did not break him. The regime gave him purpose, a target to focus his energy on. He is adamantly opposed to doing anything 'the lazy way', especially if it achieves a less reliable result. More generally, Aiden is a man of principle. He does his best to live the way his parents saw fit. Above all, he strives to be an honest individual. Lying for personal gain does not sit well with him; he will rarely resort to such behavior. However, he will do anything to keep his friends safe, be it lie, kill, cheat, or steal. Aiden is a resilient spirit. He is discouraged very little. He always finds a way to work around his problems, which makes him a quite skillful 'builder' (here 'builder' is used to mean, one who makes useful objects out of less useful objects). Rooting in his experience with farm equipment, Aiden enjoys tinkering with anything he can find. Mostly, in this day and age, his knowledge has been implemented to build defensive equipment -rudimentary bombs, handheld weapons, and other lethal instruments. He can most easily take something apart, clean it, put it back together, and tell you how it works, regardless of how complex. 🔥 Physical Description 🔥 At 6'2" and 221 lbs, it would be most apt to describe Aiden as a ball of muscle. Constant wrench turning, along with the exercise gained from evading regime troops, has kept him in peak physical condition. Because razors are a rare find in the post-regime streets, Aiden's sandy hair fluctuates between long and shaven for fairly equal but unpredictable intervals. As of now, it is around four inches in length, left messy and unkempt. His dark brown eyes appear gaunt, weathered. Eithina Personality: Eithina is a tough spirit, adaptable to almost any situation she encounters with ease. Her mental toughness is her foundation and has much to do with where she is today. She is also incredibly intelligent for a pokemon, able to understand even complex commands. She enjoys volunteering in Aiden's builds, often by acting as a "go-fer". She is somewhat able to interpret English numbers, though only ones with very little variance (IE, not hand-written). Though she is very proficient alone, she has a personality like an uncontrollable fire, making teamwork more difficult. She is very competitive, aggressive even, and resorts quickly to fighting. She is also very reluctant to form good relationships, be it with new people or new pokemon. Despite her shortcomings, Eithina is very protective of those she considers a friend. Appearance: Apart from a standard Eevee, Eithina has a small portion of the tip of her left ear torn off. Additionally, she wears a red scarf, which she is never seen without. Lilith Absinthe "Can't I just say something clever and quote myself?" -Lilith ~F****d Up World - The Pretty Reckless || ~Paranoia - ADTR Look at me! LOOK AT ME! 💗 Full-Birth Given Name 💗 "Lilith Malina Absinthe, present and accounted for!" 💗 Nickname 💗 "Lilly, Lilith, Sin; anything really, if it gets my attention!" 💗 Sex Identification 💗 "Female, and I'm not picky." 💗 Birthdate 💗 18 March 2328, 19 💗 Place of Birth 💗 Prairie Village, Nebraska 💗 Also Knowing 💗 "Killing is my favorite ;)!!!" My Appetite for Destruction 💗 Rebel or Regime? 💗 REGIME 💗 Pokemon Companion 💗 Gengar 💗 History with Pokemon 💗 "Gengar was given to me by the regime recently. He was supposed to help me hunt down nasty rebels, but most the time he has other ideas. Though he is pretty headstrong, I think he knows who his evil overlord is (ME!!). Despite our differences, we both enjoy unchecked violence, so I'm sure we'll get along fine =)." 💗 Short Biography 💗 Lilith had trouble relating to anyone as a child. Even her own parents feared the darkness they saw inside her. What others saw as some sort of insanity however, the regime saw as a useful combat tool. At the age of ten, Lilith was plucked from her normal life and placed in a regime academy. Though she wasn't the biggest or the smartest, she seemed to have an innate aptitude for violence. After progressing quickly through even the most difficult regime training, Lilith was given her pokemon servant and sent on her way. 💗 Persona 💗 Lilith is a great advocate of all things destructive. She is incredibly flashy, preferring only the most explosive methods possible for hunting and killing her rebel enemies. One might say that showmanship is her middle name. She is able to operate on much higher levels of 'crazy' than most others. Because of this, she is quite skilled at hatching and carrying out complex plans. Though seemingly committed to the regime, her alliances only lie with those that can offer her the most fun. As of now, the regime is the highest bidder. 💗 Physical Description 💗 Lilith is rather small, at 5'5" and 124lbs. Though she seems scrawny, she is actually rather tough. Her hair is as wild as her personality, typically worn long. Her eyes, though playful, have a darkness in them.

Interactions: Jackson (@Soi) "Je m'appelle Jackson Kincaid. Je ne veux pas te faire de mal." Raven se prosterna devant l'homme, ne croyant pas ses paroles une seconde. Le régime n'était pas digne de confiance. Une fois qu'elle a pris son souffle d'entrer en collision avec le gars à côté d'elle, ayant eu le vent pratiquement frappé d'elle, elle a mis son index et son pouce à sa bouche et sifflé doucement. Assez doux pour les agents du Régime qui se trouvent encore dans la région pour ne pas entendre, mais Electabuzz l'entendait. Elle savait qu'il la retrouverait une fois qu'il aurait entendu le sifflet. Il était un grand traqueur, même pour sa race qui ne se souciait généralement pas de faire de telles choses. "Juste", le gars semblait regarder le soldat, avec une bonne raison, aussi. Qui étaient-ils pour croire ses mensonges? Certainement pas stupide, c'est sûr. "-appelez-moi "Vantage". Raven a regardé Vantage et s'est moquée, secouant la tête alors qu'elle se levait et se dépoussiérait, tout en gardant un œil sur Kincaid. "Oui, je ne crois pas, Cowboy. Je ne te dis rien. Vous pouvez me ramener à la base et essayer de me sortir de là, mais ici, je n'abandonnerai rien." Lançant à Vantage, elle l'a regardé comme 'Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas chez toi?!' avant de sourire alors qu'Electabuzz traversait les arbres et venait se tenir derrière elle. L'Electabuzz, à hauteur moyenne, se tenait à environ 3 pieds de haut, mais sa taille était d'environ un pied et demi plus courte qu'elle-même et un pied plus grand que la plupart de sa race. "Pourquoi devrions-nous vous croire? J'ai compris, tu as posé ton arme et tu as dit à ton petit pup là-bas de talonner," Raven sourit quand la Houndour à côté de Kincaid a barré c'est les dents à elle, "-mais sérieusement, tu es le Régime. Vous avez toujours un autre mobile dans vos manches." Avant que Raven ne puisse terminer complètement, un éclair de noir et de rouge est tombé des arbres au-dessus de Kincaid et a atterri sur est de retour. Un Sneasel était maintenant monté sur ses épaules, c'est des griffes pointues à son cou prêt à le trancher large ouvert. "Qu'est-ce que tu attends, Razor? Tuez-le." Raven regarda autour de lui la voix qui jaillissait de tout près, une expression douteuse sur son visage. Electabuzz devenait un peu mal à l'aise à côté d'elle, baissant ses dents et respirant un peu plus fort que d'habitude. Un doux bourdonnement de son propre bâtiment d'électricité en lui alors qu'il regardait, sans bouger au Sneasel. Le Sneasel regarda entre Kincaid, Vantage et Raven comme s'il se demandait s'il devait ou non tuer l'homme à sa portée. Je veux dire, pas devant tous ces gentils gens, pas vrai? Le Sneasel a fait un son, et c'est là que non seulement la voix est revenue, la personne à qui il appartenait a émergé des arbres. Les deux avec une expression en colère et un ton à leur sujet. "Comment ça, "non"? Nous tuons des bâtards comme lui." Le pokemon semblait revenir au feu avec ses propres sortes de bavardages, l'entraîneur devenant encore plus farouchement contrarié par la créature. "Je me fiche de ce qu'il a dit! C'est avec le régime qu'il mérite de mourir." Le pokemon est resté en position, et Raven a regagné le pokemon pour rabattre doucement Electabuzz. Pas dans une tentative de faire une autre course, mais l'empêchant de se joindre à lui. Elle savait qu'il le ferait si Raven le laissait, mais ce n'était pas leur combat. La fille et le Sneasel semblaient l'avoir manipulé. Juste à ce moment-là, hors de l'air mince, apparu un pokémon de type fantôme violet brillant. Général! Merde, si seulement je n'avais pas utilisé la balle d'Electabuzz sur lui, je pourrais peut-être essayer de l'attraper. Raven a pensé à elle-même. Ce qu'elle ne donnerait pas pour un Haunter, mais un Gengar le ferait aussi. Le grand fantôme a ensuite craqué, c'est une grande langue et la drogue sur le visage de la chasseuse avant de disparaître dans le vent, encore une fois. Raven n'a pas pu s'empêcher de sortir un léger rire qu'elle a rapidement étouffé, elle ne voulait pas énerver la traqueuse et être sa prochaine cible. Et pourtant, une autre voix est venue d'en haut, ce qui a poussé Raven à chercher celle à laquelle il appartenait. "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH Imbécile! Jusqu'à la prochaine fois! Je n'en ai pas encore fini avec toi!" Interactions: Isaïe ()---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Jackson regarda entre les deux, prêt à répondre à la réponse de la fille, mais fut coupé par un poids soudain sur son dos, quelques lames pointues pressées à son cou. Immédiatement, Jackson a mis une main à ses côtés pour calmer son Houndour maintenant, en pleine attaque, forçant son ami à s'asseoir impatiemment. Houndour s'assit là en regardant le Sneasel tout le temps, une légère lueur rouge dans ses yeux. Il voulait envelopper sa bouche autour du cou de la chose et lui faire ce qu'elle semblait vouloir faire à son maître. Jackson a gardé Houndour à portée de main avec une main simple portée dans un poing, ce qui signifie simplement, « tenir » ou « rester ». Le bavardage et les voix autour de Jackson ont atteint son maximum d'intérêt, et il voulait se tourner pour voir à qui appartenait le pokemon sur son dos. Il voulait désespérément faire face à son agresseur, mais il s'est retrouvé à regarder entre Vantage et la fille. Était-ce... un mercenaire avec l'un d'eux? Jackson a avalé fort, sentant les griffes du pokemon creuser plus profondément dans sa gorge. Une petite ligne d'écarlate qui coule dans son cou. Il n'osait pas bouger, ni essayer de parler. Dans une situation comme celle-ci, tout ce que Jackson pensait qu'il devait faire, c'était se conformer. Il n'avait pas le dessus, et il ne voulait pas avoir l'air de faire quelque chose. Son fusil était en sécurité coincé contre son dos entre lui et le Sneasel. Son couteau était attaché à sa ceinture, mais qu'est-ce qu'il ferait de bien d'essayer de lutter pour elle avant que la bête damnée sur son dos lui coupe la gorge et en finisse avec. Aucune. Jackson se serre les dents, entend une lèche! et la fille devant lui essaye de ne pas rire, levant son sourcil dans la confusion. Il s'est passé quoi, bordel? Il pensait à lui-même. Des arbres vinrent alors une voix, non pas de la chasseuse qui n'était pas trop loin de lui, mais une nouvelle. Le bruit de la retraite a été un peu de soulagement, mais il semblait aussi qu'ils avaient un ton assez militaire à leur voix. Régime? Jackson était presque assez désespéré pour qu'ils viennent à sa rescousse, même si la femme avait su qu'il était une décharge déshonorable en fuyant ledit régime. Il ne voulait pas mourir. Pas ici, et certainement pas comme ça. La fille avait eu raison à propos d'une chose, avant, à son nom. C'était un vrai 'cowboy'. Jackson voulait sortir "guns blazin". Respirant profondément, Jackson regarda du coin de l'œil vers la chasseuse derrière lui et parla d'un ton calme. "Je ne suis pas un soldat. J'ai simplement volé cette tenue d'un mort dans l'espoir de traverser certains des camps que j'ai dû parcourir à quelques kilomètres en arrière. Si vous ne me croyez pas, voyagez vers le sud-est à environ 4 miles et vous trouverez le vaste camping plein de la parcelle. Je n'ai pas de querelle avec toi! Donc, si ça ne vous dérange pas, laissez-moi partir et nous pouvons parler d'une manière plus formelle." La main de Jackson était toujours tendue dans un poing vers son pokemon, tenant la main à sa place. Le sombre pokémon regarda en avant et en arrière entre son entraîneur et les deux menaçant sa vie, en attendant son prochain ordre - quel que soit ce qu'il pourrait être.

Jackson Atticus Kincaid Face Claim: Jeremy Irvine "The price of being a sheep is boredom. The price of being a wolf is loneliness. Choose one or the other with great care." -Hugh Macleod In The End by Linkin Park | Sound the Bugle by Bryan Adams The Renegade Who Had It Made, Retrieved For A Bounty ☬ Full-Birth Given Name ☬ "Jackson Atticus Kincaid, at your service." ☬ Preferred Name | Nickname ☬ "I prefer to go by Jax, or Jack. Regime just address by last names." ☬ Sex Identification ☬ Bi-Sexual male. ☬ Established In ☬ "September 22, 2323. I'm 24-years-old." ☬ Place of Birth ☬ Queens, New York. ☬ Also Knowing ☬ "I still carry my shock baton and assault rifle with me, though my rifle has no rounds in it. Just for show, and to fool the fools that still think I'm Regime. I stay in my uniform for that specific reason, though I do have a change of clothes in my pack." This Will Be the End Today of a Wanted Man ☬ Rebel or Regime? ☬ Ex-Regime, turned Rebel. ☬ Pokemon Companion ☬ "I own a Houndour, who I've since named Grimm, that was given to me by the Regime. He and I used to just have a 'master and slave' type relationship as the Regime would have us treat our pokemon, but I've tried getting closer with him since I left. He seems to becoming more fond of me." ☬ History with Pokemon ☬ "I was given Grimm when I was an active soldier for the regime. It used to be, if I said jump he'd immediately do so. Now, he's become my only friend I have. We're trying to better the companionship we've started since I left." ☬ Short Biography ☬ "I grew up in a semi-wealthy family that didn't know what rationing was, like the lower class. My family was decently provided for, and we had relations with people in the Regime. My uncle, specifically, was a military captain. He brought me into the military under his wing when I was just 18 years old. Been a Regime soldier ever since. I know how to avoid them, so it's pretty easy for me to stay out of sight." ☬ Persona ☬ Jackson wants to be a hero, someone that everyone knows and reveres. But barring that, he’s willing to be a sort of dark knight. As the youngest of six and constantly disregarded, Jackson is independent and desperate to prove himself, wanting to show his personal talent and leave a legacy behind in the minds of everyone. But he’s not brash. He is content to observe and work quietly, and he’s very intelligent, which is no small aid. He thinks before he acts and is adept at seeing all sides and analyzing situations so he can act to his best advantage. He wants to be something and make something of himself; proving himself better than anyone could have expected is one of his highest priorities. Jackson's social skills need work. He has somewhat of a low tolerance for certain people and is dismissive of those who are loud, unsubtle, and quick to offer opinions for everything. Nevertheless, other people are often "entitled" to his opinion in the form of his biting sarcastic remarks. Other than that he is a quiet and even somewhat withdrawn guy. While he enjoys the company of some of people, solitude is a balm for him. He has to be able to think and study. Jackson is a knowledge seeker. He is one of those people who believe that knowledge and intelligence are central to success and power, so many things fascinate him and he could easily be found reading if he wasn't constantly on the run. In his mind no fact or understanding of a process or a tendency is unimportant or useless, and may help a person when they least expect it to. As such, he can usually provide extra information on most any subject, even if he gives it in a condescending manner. He is proud of what he knows, both the facts and the underlying understanding of how things work. Interestingly, though, Jackson’s quiet, studious exterior hides somewhat of a rebellious and unconventional streak. He likes to go his own way and will do it willingly. He also respects authority, but follows rules when it suits him—in other words, most of the time, but not if he has something else in mind that he deems worth the risk of losing points in the eyes of his higher ranking officers or perhaps damaging his image a little. However, as important as that is to him, these moments come very rarely. More frequently his unconventionality is manifested in an experimentative tendency. Jackson loves a challenge and he loves besting people, but it is usually a private victory for him. He needs not brag and draw attention to his success as long as he knows personally that he has won. However, this is not to say that he doesn’t need others’ acclaim. Being noticed is important to him, and he hates being ignored, but he would rather people notice by themselves how outstanding he truly is. That being said, criticism tends to bounce off of him as well--he is rather selective about what he hears and chooses to take to heart. Despite a sometimes ungracious manner, and a self-preserving and self-benefiting attitude, the guy is not bad at heart. He would always stick up for those he considers his friends, and is not averse to helping even strangers, after he is finished or providing it doesn’t inconvenience him. But when he is hurt, it is common to find him completely withdrawn and intractable, working only for himself in a kind of cool temper that can take a while to thaw out, even with the efforts of his closest friends. Unfortunately, Jackson is also prone to hold grudges after problems with others, and he is stubborn about them, though adaptable in other situations. Jackson is a careful and patient guy. He’ll watch and wait for a long time with an observant and analyzing eye without feeling a need to do anything himself, gaining something from everything he sees. Not only that, he’s good at making what he sees help him in some way. He’s also good at using all the resources he can to help him achieve whatever goal he has in mind. Jackson is driven and works diligently to achieve any goal he’s set for himself, and places these goals above most other things. As such, he’s very organized; he hates clutter and his personal space, personal appearance, and his management of time and such are all very neat and organized, often following a schedule or other method of keeping everything in its proper place and time. It bothers him when things aren’t set out clearly and prioritized so they can be followed right. He’s a very good multi-tasker and his organization helps him make sure everything gets accomplished exactly when and how he planned it to. If it doesn't, he'll fix it until it does. ☬ Physical Description ☬ Jackson is roughly 6'3" and weighs a total of 194lbs. He keeps his dark brown hair cropped kind of short, maybe only a couple inches in length. His eyes are a light grey color that turn almost hazel when he's upset, which is very rare to see with him. When he gets mad, they seem to turn almost black, they get so dark. His body is toned and he continues to maintain that each and every day. He'll exercise with his houndoor Grimm for hours, when he can. Maya "Raven" Reyes Face Claim: Lindsey Morgan "Rebellion is the only thing that keeps you alive." -Marianne Faithfull Dare to Believe by Boyce Avenue | Problem by Ariana Grande ft. Iggy Azalea I'm Heading Straight For the Castle ♠ Full-Birth Given Name ♠ "Maya Reyes. No, I don't possess a middle name." ♠ Preferred Name | Nickname ♠ "I tend to just go by 'Raven'. It's a nickname my mom gave me as a kid." ♠ Sex Identification ♠ Heterosexual female, here. ♠ Established In ♠ "May 20th, 2327. Yes, that makes me 20-years-old." ♠ Place of Birth ♠ New Orleans, Louisiana. ♠ Also Knowing ♠ "I carry a knife with me, it stays strapped to the inside of my jacket, while I also have an axe I keep at my hip. What?.. Safety Precautions." They Wanna Make Me Their Queen ♠ Rebel or Regime? ♠ "Rebel. Not hard to tell. I'm constantly on the run." ♠ Pokemon Companion ♠ "I have an Electabuzz with me." ♠ History with Pokemon ♠ "Well, I met Electabuzz as an Elekid. He used to hang around my childhood home, and occasionally I would feed him. Even brought him inside from the rain a few nights. My parents didn't like me playing with the wild pokemon, so it was kept quiet for a long time. Elekid, at the time, seemed to be very understanding. Around the time when I turned 15, I was getting deep into my rebellious stage and went so far as to sneak onto a Regime truck and steal a pokeball. Well, technically an Ultra ball. I made sure to find an Ultra because its colors matched Elekid's patterns. When I returned home that night, I couldn't find Elekid anywhere. I searched and searched but he was nowhere to be found. I thought maybe he'd gotten picked up by the Regime while I was gone, so I sat the ball ontop of my dresser and left it as a reminder, thinking I'd never see him again. The next morning, however, I found an Electabuzz in my front yard staring me down. Only thing that told me it wasn't going to attack was the genuine smile on its face. It didn't take me long to realize what had happened. I then asked the, now, Electabuzz if it'd go into a permanent partnership with me. I offered up the pokeball, and promised him if he ever felt threatened by me or just flat out didn't want to be around me anymore, I'd set him free. We've been together ever since. He's my best bud." ♠ Short Biography ♠ "I came from a low-class migrant farmer family who didn't have much to begin with. Poverty is a disease in our family, one spread from generation to generation, even before the wars f*cked everything up even worse. My parents made sure to give my brother and I the best education their money could afford, though. They, as well as my brother, gave up their lives to let me escape The Regime. Our parents were late on their payments, and The Regime came to claim what wasn't rightfully theirs. Since I had my own pokemon that wasn't registered, my parents advised me to leave. My brother tried to join me, but they caught on that we were on the run and he created a diversion. I've been on the run with Electabuzz ever since." ♠ Persona ♠ Upon a first meeting, Raven is usually rather quiet. Although she likes the company of people, she doesn't typically approach others unless she's pretty sure they'll welcome it. Once acquainted with someone, though, she can be quite animated and talkative, more lighthearted and teasing the closer she is to someone. She is fiercely loyal to the people she cares for, helping them at all costs, and is generally kind. Her friends can always rely on her for level-headed advice, a listening ear, or help with classwork--regarding the latter, she's a hard worker that usually enjoys the work she does, and is prone to trying to focus people back on the main subject or task at hand. If she doesn't know someone, however, she can be judgmental at times if someone seems ignorant or shallow; Raven is fairly quick to form opinions of people and sticks to her first impression, unless enough contrasting evidence is set before her. Raven is naturally outspoken and hates having to mask or hide herself and how she is. She knows how to keep quiet when she has recognized that caution and prudence are necessary, but would prefer to speak her mind, and can be rather blunt. Raven is opinionated and has things to say and ideas to give on everything, which contributes to activity in classes and discussions with her friends. She will doggedly uphold her beliefs no matter what. Raven has an acute sense of right and wrong. She believes in always doing what she believes is the right thing, no matter what other people say and think. She has a high sense of honor and returns assistance and even kindness to anyone who has done her a good turn, no matter how much she may dislike them. She is also usually, if grudgingly, fair, even if this is colored, again, by an inherent dislike of the person she is thinking about or referring to. Although fairly intelligent, and someone who will give her all and put her mind to something once she gets around to it, Raven's mind can tend to wander off, especially if something big is weighing on her mind and what she's doing is rather mundane. Someone who likes to see the "big picture", she can get caught up in it instead of focusing on what she's doing in the here and now unless they are tied together. However, it's rare that she doesn't complete a task that she's given, even if it starts in a delayed fashion. She tries her hardest to produce good results in whatever she does, and once she decides on a course of action, she is determined to follow it through to the end. Quite stubborn, it is extremely difficult for someone to change her mind after she's made a decision, though she can be influenced successfully while she is still considering her options. Although she tries to control her temper, it can be quite violent with proper provocation. During the end of the last war, she became much more easily provoked, taking more strongly to old prejudices; this has mostly worn off, but she experiences flare-ups occasionally. This was also accompanied by an increase in impulsiveness and recklessness, but she's really feeling more like her normal self, although a touch of extra spark and fire seems to be part of her for good. In her natural state, though, relatively free from any out-of-the-ordinary stress, Raven tries and usually succeeds in being clear-headed in her decisions, thinking things through. Although she seems rather unassuming, Raven also is fond of adventure and trying out new things. Because she believes that doing something worthwhile in the world is important, and that there are things that people are just meant to do, she's always wanted to keep doing different things to figure out what she's good at and what she's passionate about. To a degree, she also just enjoys a bit of danger and the unknown, even though she recognizes that stability is often better and has become much more cautious than she was when she was younger. When it comes down to it, Raven values simplicity and straightforwardness in life. To her it's comforting to have a goal and know who you can count on, and having both she feels quite at ease with life. Whatever she does though, there's very little that the young witch regrets, and she's proud of who she is and where she's been. ♠ Physical Description ♠ Raven doesn't stand much taller than 5'6" and weighs a petite 114lbs. Her Mexican and Native features truly stand out with her dark brown, almost black hair, tanned skin and dark eyes to match. She has full lashes and fixed eyebrows to go with them. Her facial expressions usually show she means business, and it's rare to see her smile, but given the chance, she lights up any room. She has two tattoos and a paper crane necklace she wears. One of the tattoos is of black wings, one on each shoulder/arm, to go along with her nickname. The other is a quote across her chest that reads, "Can't put your arms around a memory."

Isaiah Vantas Interactions: En quelque sorte tout le monde vraiment.... Les pensées couraient dans l'esprit d'Isaïe. Quoi faire, quoi faire. Reculez sur ses pieds, pas d'arme. Pas d'arme du tout. Pourquoi a-t-il arrêté de le porter... c'est vrai. Il aurait déjà tiré sur Jackson s'il ne l'avait pas fait. Pas une bonne idée... un sniper dans les bois. Sneasal et Houndour.... Isaiah a couru les doigts dans ses cheveux et a regardé, voulant juste crier à tout le monde pour fermer l'enfer pendant une demi-seconde. Mais non... Ils n'écoutaient pas. C'était juste un gamin dans les bois. Ça lui a donné une idée. Il y avait une arme dans son sac à dos, s'il pouvait assembler cette foutue chose. Mais... pas de munitions. Merde. Mais une autre pensée lui est venue. Quelque chose que l'un d'eux a dit. "C'est un régime, il mérite de mourir?" Isaïe a cité, regardant Jackson pour l'accent. C'est ce que tu penses? Parce que si c'est le cas, tu devrais sauter d'une falaise. Sérieusement, à quel point pouvez-vous être proche et haineux sans devenir Régime? Parce que je pense que vous êtes là. Si tout ce que vous faites, c'est tuer des gens à cause de l'organisation avec laquelle ils sont. » Isaïe était en colère. Cette mentalité était contre laquelle il se battait. C'était la pensée qu'il voulait arrêter. La mentalité de 'Les fins justifient les moyens' était exactement ce que le régime était susceptible de dire, comment ils agissaient. Tirez d'abord, posez des questions plus tard. C'était une partie de la raison pour laquelle on les craignait et les détestait. Avez-vous un pokémon non autorisé avec vous? Il a été pris, et vous étiez probablement mort. Tu te fais appeler rebelle? Vous êtes mort. Pas de piste, pas d'équité. Il l'a rendu malade que certaines personnes là-bas voulaient combattre ce genre de haine et de fascisme, avec la même chose exactement et se disent rebelles ou combattants de la liberté. "C'est ridicule." Isaïe s'est tourné. "Oh oui. Ceux d'entre nous qui ne veulent pas être pris par le régime? Je suggère qu'on bouge. Tu sais. Depuis que plusieurs d'entre eux sont morts et n'ont pas été enregistrés par radio. Il y en aura sûrement d'autres à venir. Surtout avec le scientifique qui s'enfuit dans une base et personne ne la poursuit? Je vais chercher les corps, puis je m'en vais." Et comme cela, Isaïe a glissé dans les arbres et vers le bas vers les corps, son capot et des vêtements noirs se mélangeant assez bien dans le paysage quand il a commencé à creuser à travers les restes de l'escouade pour les approvisionnements.

Aiden Iri "Today is as good as any to die." -Unknown ~Life is a highway - Tom Cochrane || ~Born to be wild - Steppenwolf Specs 🔥 Full Name 🔥 Aiden Iri 🔥 Nickname 🔥 Uhhh... see above. 🔥 Sex Identification 🔥 Male, straight. 🔥 Birth-date 🔥 4 May 2323 ; 24yo 🔥 Place of Birth 🔥 Anchorage, AK 🔥 Additional Info 🔥 6'2"; 194 lbs; lean build History 🔥 Rebel or Regime? 🔥 REBEL 🔥 Pokemon Companion 🔥 Eithina, an Eevee 🔥 History with Pokemon 🔥 Found Eithina a few years back, running from some regime thugs. Abandoned in a alley, beat to hell; I couldn't just leave her there. Course, I always knew how to take care of animals, what with me growing up on a farm an' all. Fixing her up was no trouble. As for her fear of others, we're still workin' on that. As for now, I keep her safe, she keeps me company. Anyway that's the short of it." 🔥 Short Biography 🔥 "I was taught since birth to defend my principles, what I saw right, on pain of death. Both my ma and pa believed this, lived it. All well and good, 'til they were killed for it. Bunch of regime assholes sayin' the farm wasn't producing enough and that they would have to take it over. Course they took it in the end anyways. With nothin' but the blood of my loved ones holding me to the land, I ran. I was...probably fifteen at the time. Been runnin' ever since, looking for a chance to avenge my kin and all the others the regime has wronged." Aiden lived on a miltank / cattle farm in his early years. Despite the regime's tight grasp on everything, it was perhaps the only way people had any freedom at the time. The regime, with a very watchful eye, allowed Aiden's family to live outside the city, on regime government land populated by regime animals. 🔥 Persona 🔥 Aiden is a driven spirit, more-so than many others. His belief is that a man's only worth the sweat on his brow and the strength of his back. That is to say, he believes strongly in the power of hard work. Before his parents' death, he had drive. Though his past changed him, it did not break him. The regime gave him purpose, a target to focus his energy on. He is adamantly opposed to doing anything 'the lazy way', especially if it achieves a less reliable result. More generally, Aiden is a man of principle. He does his best to live the way his parents saw fit. Above all, he strives to be an honest individual. Lying for personal gain does not sit well with him; he will rarely resort to such behavior. However, he will do anything to keep his friends safe, be it lie, kill, cheat, or steal. Aiden is a resilient spirit. He is discouraged very little. He always finds a way to work around his problems, which makes him a quite skillful 'builder' (here 'builder' is used to mean, one who makes useful objects out of less useful objects). Rooting in his experience with farm equipment, Aiden enjoys tinkering with anything he can find. Mostly, in this day and age, his knowledge has been implemented to build defensive equipment -rudimentary bombs, handheld weapons, and other lethal instruments. He can most easily take something apart, clean it, put it back together, and tell you how it works, regardless of how complex. 🔥 Physical Description 🔥 At 6'2" and 221 lbs, it would be most apt to describe Aiden as a ball of muscle. Constant wrench turning, along with the exercise gained from evading regime troops, has kept him in peak physical condition. Because razors are a rare find in the post-regime streets, Aiden's sandy hair fluctuates between long and shaven for fairly equal but unpredictable intervals. As of now, it is around four inches in length, left messy and unkempt. His dark brown eyes appear gaunt, weathered. Eithina Personality: Eithina is a tough spirit, adaptable to almost any situation she encounters with ease. Her mental toughness is her foundation and has much to do with where she is today. She is also incredibly intelligent for a pokemon, able to understand even complex commands. She enjoys volunteering in Aiden's builds, often by acting as a "go-fer". She is somewhat able to interpret English numbers, though only ones with very little variance (IE, not hand-written). Though she is very proficient alone, she has a personality like an uncontrollable fire, making teamwork more difficult. She is very competitive, aggressive even, and resorts quickly to fighting. She is also very reluctant to form good relationships, be it with new people or new pokemon. Despite her shortcomings, Eithina is very protective of those she considers a friend. Appearance: Apart from a standard Eevee, Eithina has a small portion of the tip of her left ear torn off. Additionally, she wears a red scarf, which she is never seen without. Lilith Absinthe "Can't I just say something clever and quote myself?" -Lilith ~F****d Up World - The Pretty Reckless || ~Paranoia - ADTR Look at me! LOOK AT ME! 💗 Full-Birth Given Name 💗 "Lilith Malina Absinthe, present and accounted for!" 💗 Nickname 💗 "Lilly, Lilith, Sin; anything really, if it gets my attention!" 💗 Sex Identification 💗 "Female, and I'm not picky." 💗 Birthdate 💗 18 March 2328, 19 💗 Place of Birth 💗 Prairie Village, Nebraska 💗 Also Knowing 💗 "Killing is my favorite ;)!!!" My Appetite for Destruction 💗 Rebel or Regime? 💗 REGIME 💗 Pokemon Companion 💗 Gengar 💗 History with Pokemon 💗 "Gengar was given to me by the regime recently. He was supposed to help me hunt down nasty rebels, but most the time he has other ideas. Though he is pretty headstrong, I think he knows who his evil overlord is (ME!!). Despite our differences, we both enjoy unchecked violence, so I'm sure we'll get along fine =)." 💗 Short Biography 💗 Lilith had trouble relating to anyone as a child. Even her own parents feared the darkness they saw inside her. What others saw as some sort of insanity however, the regime saw as a useful combat tool. At the age of ten, Lilith was plucked from her normal life and placed in a regime academy. Though she wasn't the biggest or the smartest, she seemed to have an innate aptitude for violence. After progressing quickly through even the most difficult regime training, Lilith was given her pokemon servant and sent on her way. 💗 Persona 💗 Lilith is a great advocate of all things destructive. She is incredibly flashy, preferring only the most explosive methods possible for hunting and killing her rebel enemies. One might say that showmanship is her middle name. She is able to operate on much higher levels of 'crazy' than most others. Because of this, she is quite skilled at hatching and carrying out complex plans. Though seemingly committed to the regime, her alliances only lie with those that can offer her the most fun. As of now, the regime is the highest bidder. 💗 Physical Description 💗 Lilith is rather small, at 5'5" and 124lbs. Though she seems scrawny, she is actually rather tough. Her hair is as wild as her personality, typically worn long. Her eyes, though playful, have a darkness in them.

Ombre Lorsque l'air s'est refroidi, Shade est devenue encore plus gardée qu'elle ne l'était déjà. Il n'y avait que quelques Pokemon qu'elle savait de qui pouvait avoir un tel effet, et avec la plupart de ceux qui agissaient hâtivement était un bon moyen de finir mort. Le fait que la plupart des Pokemon n'avaient que peu ou pas de conception du bien ou du mal n'avait guère d'incidence sur le danger qu'ils pouvaient être. Elle se méfiait, essayant de localiser la source du changement et espérant que les autres prendraient la suggestion et ne feraient rien de stupide qui pourrait provoquer la nouvelle arrivée. Quand un morceau de terre s'obscurcit et lui sourit avec des yeux cramoisi, elle se figea. Gengar. C'est quoi, ça? De tous les Spectrals qu'elle aurait pu rencontrer, celui-ci était le moins désirable à cause de leurs tempéraments capricieux. Gengar était notoirement difficile à prédire, surtout les sauvages, et leurs humeurs pouvaient changer d'ici la seconde; un moment des farceurs inoffensifs et ludiques, les prochains tourmenteurs persistants et cruels. Pourtant, ce n'était pas la première fois que Shade avait traité avec les fantômes, et elle n'a fait aucun effort pour cacher sa consternation. Tout comme de nombreux types de Psychiques, avec lesquels ils ont partagé un certain nombre de similarités, les fantômes étaient très sensibles aux émotions, et si Gengar avait une certaine consistance, c'était que leurs actions étaient souvent pour provoquer des réponses. C'était une ligne délicate à marcher. Maintenez un visage stoïque, et le Gengar pourrait être impressionné par la démonstration de la maîtrise de soi, ou insulté à quel point ses efforts ont été peu pensés. Montrez la peur, et il pourrait laisser avoir obtenu ce qu'il voulait, ou il pourrait persister dans ses jeux. Pour sa part, Shade a choisi un milieu de terre; tandis que le Pokémon Ombre se levait du sol pour flotter devant elle, elle lui a permis de voir qu'il avait effectivement réussi à l'effrayer, mais maintenant qu'elle était consciente de sa présence, cette peur ne la contrôlerait pas. Elle a aussi baissé son fusil un peu et s'est plié la tête, murmurant, bienvenue, honoré Spectre. Puisse la nuit embrasser vous aider dans vos errances. Le sourire du Gengar s'est évanoui, apparemment surpris par ses paroles. Ses yeux dérivants se rétrécissaient, comme s'il soupçonnait une sorte d'astuce. Quand aucun n'était à venir, il snigre brusquement et s'élançait vers l'avant, balançant sa langue large sur son visage, lui renversant son capot et lui laissant un désordre collant. Légèrement stupéfait par le bain-langue tout à fait inattendu, Shade ne pouvait regarder que le Gengar se dissout dans l'air, toujours snigger sur elle, ses yeux cramoisis les derniers à disparaître. - C'est quoi, ça? - Merci? - Oui. Un cri shrill l'a surprise à la réalité. Clairement féminine, mais assez loin que les mots étaient indistinctes, le propriétaire de la voix avait déjà disparu comme Shade l'avait cherché. Pourtant, cela a été un bon rappel qu'ils étaient tous encore très proches du territoire ennemi. Mieux vaut traiter les choses ici rapidement et passer à autre chose, il était douteux que les camions explosants soient passés inaperçus. Même s'ils l'avaient fait, une fois que les camions n'ont pas signalé leur arrivée, et que les panaches de fumée ont été vus, quelqu'un aurait mis deux et deux ensemble et serait venu enquêter. Shade voulait être parti depuis longtemps à ce moment-là. "Je ne suis pas un soldat. J'ai simplement volé cette tenue d'un mort dans l'espoir de traverser certains des camps que j'ai dû parcourir à quelques kilomètres en arrière. Si vous ne me croyez pas, voyagez vers le sud-est à environ 4 miles et vous trouverez le vaste camping plein de la parcelle. Je n'ai pas de querelle avec toi! Donc, si ça ne vous dérange pas, laissez-moi partir et nous pouvons parler d'une manière plus formelle." Mais les mots en uniforme l'ont fait s'arrêter. Au cours des dernières années, Shade n'avait pas été étranger au pillage des cadavres du régime. Des choses comme les munitions étaient difficiles à trouver dans la nature, même lorsqu'elles limitaient ses balles aux soldats. Son raisonnement était un peu sain aussi, dans le nord, vous vous êtes habillé pour le temps, ou le temps vous tuerait aussi vite que n'importe quelle arme. S'il disait la vérité sur le camp (elle sortait du nord-est), pourquoi portait-il encore l'uniforme? Seuls les soldats du Régime les portaient, et l'imiter était presque aussi mauvais qu'avoir un Pokémon sans licence. En plus, il a eu de la chance qu'elle ne lui ait pas déjà tiré dessus. Alors qu'elle y pensait, elle a complètement ignoré l'autre garçon. Shade n'avait aucun intérêt à traiter avec des crétins naïfs qui se trompaient encore en pensant que le régime pouvait être raisonné avec. Il ne voulait pas être raisonné avec; la seule chose que le Régime se souciait de comprendre était d'exploiter Pokemon et de tuer quiconque n'était pas d'accord avec eux. Soit vous étiez avec le Régime, soit vous étiez contre eux, il n'y avait pas de moyen. Elle a fait ces règles, le Régime l'a fait, et quiconque a fait le choix de s'associer au Régime (et ils ont toujours eu le choix) n'aurait aucune pitié d'elle. C'était la réalité de la guerre, il le verrait bientôt. "Come"re Razor. "Les petites oreilles de Sneasel secouèrent ses mots, et il remonta dans les arbres, se retournant facilement vers elle. Son arme, cependant, est restée fermement entraînée sur l'homme en uniforme. C'est une bonne façon de se faire tirer dessus, par quelqu'un. Et je ne fais confiance à personne qui le garde avec eux. Si vous n'êtes vraiment pas avec eux, alors prouvez-le. » Elle lui a fait un geste alors qu'il se retournait, le ton de sa voix a indiqué à quel point ses prochains mots étaient sérieux. Je veux te voir le brûler. D'ici là, vous m'excuserez si je vous garde où je peux vous voir.

Isiah "Vantage" Vantas Everything is theoretically impossible, unti it is done. -Robert A. Heinlein How far we've come by Matchbox 20 | You're going down by Sick Puppies Start of the end of the world, but... ♍ Full-Birth Given Name ♍ "Isaiah Vantas, at your service." ♍ Preferred Name | Nickname ♍ "Isaiah is fine, if we're friends. Otherwise, call me Vantage." ♍ Sex Identification ♍ "I'm not sure why you need to know, but I'm a straight male." ♍ Established In ♍ "I'm 19 (or possibly, 20), Born August 28, 2328." ♍ Place of Birth ♍ "Boston, Massachusetts" ♍ Also Knowing ♍ "I know my way around a gun very well, though I don't carry one. I'm also damn good at climbing vertical surfaces." Its feeling just like every other morning before. ♍ Rebel or Regime? ♍ "Rebel. I want freedom, like the last books speak of..." ♍ Pokemon Companion ♍ "I've never had a Pokémon stick around, but I'd love a Gardevoir..." ♍ History with Pokemon ♍ "Like I said, I don't have any Pokémon, but you can be sure I'll tell you when I do." ♍ Short Biography ♍ "I never had a lot in life, but I never thought it was bad. My parents were like most others in my town. Poor, hard working, and always scared. But I thought that was just how people lived. That is, until I stumbled upon a group of rebel sympathizers on the outskirts of town. They were at peace, enjoying life with their Pokémon and doing everything they could to be happy. But it didn't last.... The regime came for them, and wiped out most of the town as well." "Since that event, I've been travelling around collecting books and recordings of the past... I want to recreate that world, where everyone could be happy, and where Pokémon were our friends, instead of the machines of war the Regime insists they are." {symbol of your choice} Persona {symbol of your choice} If Isaiah could be described fully in a single word, that word would be "curious." Curiosity is what drives Isaiah in most of his adventures. Sure, he has his reasons beyond it, but when he sees an abandoned library, a boarded up house, or an abandoned government facility, the first thought in his head is "I wonder what's in there...." Of course, this can lead to trouble, and is a big part of the reason Isaiah has so many bite mark shaped scars. Growlithe bites hurt. Of course, there is more to him than that. Isaiah is moderately intelligent, able to think up complex plans on the go, especially when it comes to escapes. Even in the thick of things, he is always analyzing his surroundings, finding tactical vantage points and escape vectors. If you ever get into trouble and need to find a way out of it, Isaiah is the one you would want to ask. Above and beyond that though, Isaiah tends to be average in his intelligence. But that doesn't matter to him, and he doesn't mind not being the smartest. Who cares after all, when you can escape almost any situation you need. Beyond those two things, Isaiah is a kind young man with a naivety about him. He is willing to trust almost anyone at least once, and likes to make friends. He acts younger than he is when he is relaxed, giving others the impression of immaturity. The truth though, is that Isaiah just wants to have fun while he can, and refuses to let a corrupt world push that down. However, put him into a serious situation, and you can count on him for serious backup. Isaiah also has latent violent tendencies. He used to carry a gun with him, which is how he developed a great skill as a marksman, and a knowledge of gun care and maintenance. However. He realized after some time that when he had the gun, he wanted to use the gun. After his first kill, an unarmed regime member who was going to report him, Isaiah took the gun apart completely, put it in a case, and let it stay in the bottom of his backpack, unusable. However, this hasn't prevented some of his more violent tendencies for getting out, and Isaiah has a great love for street fights, whether with thieves or unarmed Regime members. {symbol of your choice} Physical Description {symbol of your choice} Isaiah is tall, standing just at 6 feet. Dark brown, short hair covers his head in a messy form, and he is almost always wearing a hoodie and jeans to help disguise himself. If you were to get his hood off, you could see bite mark scars on his neck, and even more down his body if you pulled off his clothes. Intelligent blue eyes peek out from under thick bangs, and a twice broken nose, bent to one side, makes it impossible to think of him as classically attractive. Change log - changed birthday to August 29th.

Interactions: (@Soi) Enlevez l'uniforme et brûlez-le.Tout le reste était flou pour Jackson. Rien de la chasseuse, ni l'autre gars n'avait dit avant vraiment coulé dedans. Mais brûler son uniforme? C'était presque comme une couverture de sécurité, d'une certaine façon. Il se sentait en sécurité quand il l'avait, bien qu'en même temps c'était une énorme cible sur son dos aussi bien. Peut-être qu'il était temps de se fondre dans la foule?. Jackson a regardé la femme et son Sneasel, tapotant sa cuisse pour faire Houndour près de lui, le faisant s'asseoir à ses pieds. "Pourquoi devrais-je le brûler? Je vais juste en voler un nouveau à un autre soldat mort. Tu veux vraiment t'asseoir ici et perdre le temps que je devrais me déshabiller devant tous les gens bien, brûler cet uniforme, et obtenir réparation? D'ici là, il y aura un régime dans toute cette forêt. Ils sont déjà en route, sans aucun doute, avec l'explosion de tout à l'heure et la forte fumée qui monte maintenant à travers le ciel. Il faut qu'on y aille. Il n'y a pas de temps pour vos jeux stupides, Mlle. Peut-être une autre fois, mais pour l'instant, nous devons bouger." Jackson a risqué de revenir dans sa ceinture pour récupérer son pistolet qu'il a apporté en avant, libérant le clip et éclatant la ronde dans la chambre. Il a fait la même chose avec son fusil, en stockant les deux mags dans son sac à dos avec le pistolet. Il a ensuite accouché de son sac et de son fusil vide, sifflant bas pour Houndour à suivre. "Tuez-moi si vous ne me croyez pas, mais ne faites pas de mal à mon chien. Il ne te fera pas de mal à moins que je lui dise de le faire." Jackson avait laissé une chose dehors, mais s'est dit que ça n'avait pas d'importance, que ce soit dit ou non. Il n'avait pas peur de la mort. C'est quelque chose que le Régime lui a pris. Jackson ne craignait plus grand-chose, sauf de se faire prendre. Il n'y avait que la mort pour lui, peu importe où il se retournait, et s'il devait mourir aux mains d'un vagabond, ce serait beaucoup plus rapide que le régime ne l'aurait fait. Lent et douloureux. Appelant par-dessus son épaule, il fit une dernière remarque avant de repartir dans de longs pas dans le Nord-Est. "Faites ce que vous voulez, mais je me dépêche et je décide vite." Raven se tenait là à regarder entre les trois étrangers autour d'elle, regardant le soi-disant soldat s'en aller avec son Houndour trotting juste derrière lui. Electabuzz derrière elle était encore concentré sur le Sneasel, ses yeux légèrement agglutinants. Raven se tourna vers lui pour le voir fixer, et elle l'éjecta doucement de sa transe, marchant lentement vers le soldat alors qu'elle trempait sa tête vers la fille avec le sniper respectueusement. "Je suppose que c'est toi qui m'aidais, avant. Merci, bien sûr. Je te dois ma vie, au sens le plus littéral. Si nos chemins se croisent à l'avenir, tout ce dont vous avez besoin, je suis là, mais je pense que je vais y aller avec lui. » Elle bloque son pouce dans la direction où Jackson commençait à disparaître dans les arbres. « S'il est ce qu'il dit être, et s'il n'est pas un régime, il semble avoir fait assez loin. S'il est soldat, eh bien... Je suis presque sûr de pouvoir m'en occuper. J'ai au moins quelqu'un qui me protège." Electabuzz rayonnait, sachant trop bien que Raven l'avait voulu dire. Elle aussi lui sourit et se prosterna devant la chasseuse avant de s'enfuir après Jackson en criant : "Hey attends!" après lui.

Jackson Atticus Kincaid Face Claim: Jeremy Irvine "The price of being a sheep is boredom. The price of being a wolf is loneliness. Choose one or the other with great care." -Hugh Macleod In The End by Linkin Park | Sound the Bugle by Bryan Adams The Renegade Who Had It Made, Retrieved For A Bounty ☬ Full-Birth Given Name ☬ "Jackson Atticus Kincaid, at your service." ☬ Preferred Name | Nickname ☬ "I prefer to go by Jax, or Jack. Regime just address by last names." ☬ Sex Identification ☬ Bi-Sexual male. ☬ Established In ☬ "September 22, 2323. I'm 24-years-old." ☬ Place of Birth ☬ Queens, New York. ☬ Also Knowing ☬ "I still carry my shock baton and assault rifle with me, though my rifle has no rounds in it. Just for show, and to fool the fools that still think I'm Regime. I stay in my uniform for that specific reason, though I do have a change of clothes in my pack." This Will Be the End Today of a Wanted Man ☬ Rebel or Regime? ☬ Ex-Regime, turned Rebel. ☬ Pokemon Companion ☬ "I own a Houndour, who I've since named Grimm, that was given to me by the Regime. He and I used to just have a 'master and slave' type relationship as the Regime would have us treat our pokemon, but I've tried getting closer with him since I left. He seems to becoming more fond of me." ☬ History with Pokemon ☬ "I was given Grimm when I was an active soldier for the regime. It used to be, if I said jump he'd immediately do so. Now, he's become my only friend I have. We're trying to better the companionship we've started since I left." ☬ Short Biography ☬ "I grew up in a semi-wealthy family that didn't know what rationing was, like the lower class. My family was decently provided for, and we had relations with people in the Regime. My uncle, specifically, was a military captain. He brought me into the military under his wing when I was just 18 years old. Been a Regime soldier ever since. I know how to avoid them, so it's pretty easy for me to stay out of sight." ☬ Persona ☬ Jackson wants to be a hero, someone that everyone knows and reveres. But barring that, he’s willing to be a sort of dark knight. As the youngest of six and constantly disregarded, Jackson is independent and desperate to prove himself, wanting to show his personal talent and leave a legacy behind in the minds of everyone. But he’s not brash. He is content to observe and work quietly, and he’s very intelligent, which is no small aid. He thinks before he acts and is adept at seeing all sides and analyzing situations so he can act to his best advantage. He wants to be something and make something of himself; proving himself better than anyone could have expected is one of his highest priorities. Jackson's social skills need work. He has somewhat of a low tolerance for certain people and is dismissive of those who are loud, unsubtle, and quick to offer opinions for everything. Nevertheless, other people are often "entitled" to his opinion in the form of his biting sarcastic remarks. Other than that he is a quiet and even somewhat withdrawn guy. While he enjoys the company of some of people, solitude is a balm for him. He has to be able to think and study. Jackson is a knowledge seeker. He is one of those people who believe that knowledge and intelligence are central to success and power, so many things fascinate him and he could easily be found reading if he wasn't constantly on the run. In his mind no fact or understanding of a process or a tendency is unimportant or useless, and may help a person when they least expect it to. As such, he can usually provide extra information on most any subject, even if he gives it in a condescending manner. He is proud of what he knows, both the facts and the underlying understanding of how things work. Interestingly, though, Jackson’s quiet, studious exterior hides somewhat of a rebellious and unconventional streak. He likes to go his own way and will do it willingly. He also respects authority, but follows rules when it suits him—in other words, most of the time, but not if he has something else in mind that he deems worth the risk of losing points in the eyes of his higher ranking officers or perhaps damaging his image a little. However, as important as that is to him, these moments come very rarely. More frequently his unconventionality is manifested in an experimentative tendency. Jackson loves a challenge and he loves besting people, but it is usually a private victory for him. He needs not brag and draw attention to his success as long as he knows personally that he has won. However, this is not to say that he doesn’t need others’ acclaim. Being noticed is important to him, and he hates being ignored, but he would rather people notice by themselves how outstanding he truly is. That being said, criticism tends to bounce off of him as well--he is rather selective about what he hears and chooses to take to heart. Despite a sometimes ungracious manner, and a self-preserving and self-benefiting attitude, the guy is not bad at heart. He would always stick up for those he considers his friends, and is not averse to helping even strangers, after he is finished or providing it doesn’t inconvenience him. But when he is hurt, it is common to find him completely withdrawn and intractable, working only for himself in a kind of cool temper that can take a while to thaw out, even with the efforts of his closest friends. Unfortunately, Jackson is also prone to hold grudges after problems with others, and he is stubborn about them, though adaptable in other situations. Jackson is a careful and patient guy. He’ll watch and wait for a long time with an observant and analyzing eye without feeling a need to do anything himself, gaining something from everything he sees. Not only that, he’s good at making what he sees help him in some way. He’s also good at using all the resources he can to help him achieve whatever goal he has in mind. Jackson is driven and works diligently to achieve any goal he’s set for himself, and places these goals above most other things. As such, he’s very organized; he hates clutter and his personal space, personal appearance, and his management of time and such are all very neat and organized, often following a schedule or other method of keeping everything in its proper place and time. It bothers him when things aren’t set out clearly and prioritized so they can be followed right. He’s a very good multi-tasker and his organization helps him make sure everything gets accomplished exactly when and how he planned it to. If it doesn't, he'll fix it until it does. ☬ Physical Description ☬ Jackson is roughly 6'3" and weighs a total of 194lbs. He keeps his dark brown hair cropped kind of short, maybe only a couple inches in length. His eyes are a light grey color that turn almost hazel when he's upset, which is very rare to see with him. When he gets mad, they seem to turn almost black, they get so dark. His body is toned and he continues to maintain that each and every day. He'll exercise with his houndoor Grimm for hours, when he can. Maya "Raven" Reyes Face Claim: Lindsey Morgan "Rebellion is the only thing that keeps you alive." -Marianne Faithfull Dare to Believe by Boyce Avenue | Problem by Ariana Grande ft. Iggy Azalea I'm Heading Straight For the Castle ♠ Full-Birth Given Name ♠ "Maya Reyes. No, I don't possess a middle name." ♠ Preferred Name | Nickname ♠ "I tend to just go by 'Raven'. It's a nickname my mom gave me as a kid." ♠ Sex Identification ♠ Heterosexual female, here. ♠ Established In ♠ "May 20th, 2327. Yes, that makes me 20-years-old." ♠ Place of Birth ♠ New Orleans, Louisiana. ♠ Also Knowing ♠ "I carry a knife with me, it stays strapped to the inside of my jacket, while I also have an axe I keep at my hip. What?.. Safety Precautions." They Wanna Make Me Their Queen ♠ Rebel or Regime? ♠ "Rebel. Not hard to tell. I'm constantly on the run." ♠ Pokemon Companion ♠ "I have an Electabuzz with me." ♠ History with Pokemon ♠ "Well, I met Electabuzz as an Elekid. He used to hang around my childhood home, and occasionally I would feed him. Even brought him inside from the rain a few nights. My parents didn't like me playing with the wild pokemon, so it was kept quiet for a long time. Elekid, at the time, seemed to be very understanding. Around the time when I turned 15, I was getting deep into my rebellious stage and went so far as to sneak onto a Regime truck and steal a pokeball. Well, technically an Ultra ball. I made sure to find an Ultra because its colors matched Elekid's patterns. When I returned home that night, I couldn't find Elekid anywhere. I searched and searched but he was nowhere to be found. I thought maybe he'd gotten picked up by the Regime while I was gone, so I sat the ball ontop of my dresser and left it as a reminder, thinking I'd never see him again. The next morning, however, I found an Electabuzz in my front yard staring me down. Only thing that told me it wasn't going to attack was the genuine smile on its face. It didn't take me long to realize what had happened. I then asked the, now, Electabuzz if it'd go into a permanent partnership with me. I offered up the pokeball, and promised him if he ever felt threatened by me or just flat out didn't want to be around me anymore, I'd set him free. We've been together ever since. He's my best bud." ♠ Short Biography ♠ "I came from a low-class migrant farmer family who didn't have much to begin with. Poverty is a disease in our family, one spread from generation to generation, even before the wars f*cked everything up even worse. My parents made sure to give my brother and I the best education their money could afford, though. They, as well as my brother, gave up their lives to let me escape The Regime. Our parents were late on their payments, and The Regime came to claim what wasn't rightfully theirs. Since I had my own pokemon that wasn't registered, my parents advised me to leave. My brother tried to join me, but they caught on that we were on the run and he created a diversion. I've been on the run with Electabuzz ever since." ♠ Persona ♠ Upon a first meeting, Raven is usually rather quiet. Although she likes the company of people, she doesn't typically approach others unless she's pretty sure they'll welcome it. Once acquainted with someone, though, she can be quite animated and talkative, more lighthearted and teasing the closer she is to someone. She is fiercely loyal to the people she cares for, helping them at all costs, and is generally kind. Her friends can always rely on her for level-headed advice, a listening ear, or help with classwork--regarding the latter, she's a hard worker that usually enjoys the work she does, and is prone to trying to focus people back on the main subject or task at hand. If she doesn't know someone, however, she can be judgmental at times if someone seems ignorant or shallow; Raven is fairly quick to form opinions of people and sticks to her first impression, unless enough contrasting evidence is set before her. Raven is naturally outspoken and hates having to mask or hide herself and how she is. She knows how to keep quiet when she has recognized that caution and prudence are necessary, but would prefer to speak her mind, and can be rather blunt. Raven is opinionated and has things to say and ideas to give on everything, which contributes to activity in classes and discussions with her friends. She will doggedly uphold her beliefs no matter what. Raven has an acute sense of right and wrong. She believes in always doing what she believes is the right thing, no matter what other people say and think. She has a high sense of honor and returns assistance and even kindness to anyone who has done her a good turn, no matter how much she may dislike them. She is also usually, if grudgingly, fair, even if this is colored, again, by an inherent dislike of the person she is thinking about or referring to. Although fairly intelligent, and someone who will give her all and put her mind to something once she gets around to it, Raven's mind can tend to wander off, especially if something big is weighing on her mind and what she's doing is rather mundane. Someone who likes to see the "big picture", she can get caught up in it instead of focusing on what she's doing in the here and now unless they are tied together. However, it's rare that she doesn't complete a task that she's given, even if it starts in a delayed fashion. She tries her hardest to produce good results in whatever she does, and once she decides on a course of action, she is determined to follow it through to the end. Quite stubborn, it is extremely difficult for someone to change her mind after she's made a decision, though she can be influenced successfully while she is still considering her options. Although she tries to control her temper, it can be quite violent with proper provocation. During the end of the last war, she became much more easily provoked, taking more strongly to old prejudices; this has mostly worn off, but she experiences flare-ups occasionally. This was also accompanied by an increase in impulsiveness and recklessness, but she's really feeling more like her normal self, although a touch of extra spark and fire seems to be part of her for good. In her natural state, though, relatively free from any out-of-the-ordinary stress, Raven tries and usually succeeds in being clear-headed in her decisions, thinking things through. Although she seems rather unassuming, Raven also is fond of adventure and trying out new things. Because she believes that doing something worthwhile in the world is important, and that there are things that people are just meant to do, she's always wanted to keep doing different things to figure out what she's good at and what she's passionate about. To a degree, she also just enjoys a bit of danger and the unknown, even though she recognizes that stability is often better and has become much more cautious than she was when she was younger. When it comes down to it, Raven values simplicity and straightforwardness in life. To her it's comforting to have a goal and know who you can count on, and having both she feels quite at ease with life. Whatever she does though, there's very little that the young witch regrets, and she's proud of who she is and where she's been. ♠ Physical Description ♠ Raven doesn't stand much taller than 5'6" and weighs a petite 114lbs. Her Mexican and Native features truly stand out with her dark brown, almost black hair, tanned skin and dark eyes to match. She has full lashes and fixed eyebrows to go with them. Her facial expressions usually show she means business, and it's rare to see her smile, but given the chance, she lights up any room. She has two tattoos and a paper crane necklace she wears. One of the tattoos is of black wings, one on each shoulder/arm, to go along with her nickname. The other is a quote across her chest that reads, "Can't put your arms around a memory."

Lilith Interagir avec: Shade (), Jackson et Raven (), Isaïe () Le vent soufflant à travers les arbres s'était calmé, presque comme en prévision. Rien n'a bougé, sauf que l'équipe des cinq spec ops manœuvre silencieusement à travers le sous-bois. Lilith aurait préféré une équipe plus expérimentée pour ce type de rencontre, mais les mendiants ne pouvaient pas choisir. Il s'agissait des seuls soldats de la région qui n'avaient rien d'autre que des qualifications de base. En plus, elle n'était pas vraiment moi, mais... elle venait de faire exploser une mission presque identique. Elle a eu de la chance d'être dans une position de leader telle qu'elle était. Pourquoi le commandant l'avait choisie pour cela était au-delà d'elle. La mission se composait des mêmes cibles, comprenait les mêmes dangers, fixés au même endroit? Lilith a tenu un coup de poing à son équipe, les arrêtant sur leurs traces. Ils n'ont pas bougé du tout? Une stratégie intéressante, une Lilith a voulu en profiter. Il semblait qu'ils étaient encore... en train de régler leurs différends. L'équipe du régime qui se trouvait maintenant à 50 mètres de là n'avait pas de telles faiblesses. Lilith étouffa un rire, heureux de finalement prendre une autre marque - avec le bonus supplémentaire de quelques autres têtes. À l'heure actuelle, elle a signalé à son équipe de commencer à flanquer la clairière des deux côtés. La mort de la brise favoriserait maintenant son équipe, car le Houndour assis parmi les rebelles n'aurait probablement pas pris un parfum jusqu'à ce qu'il soit trop tard. Lilith l'a pris comme un signe, préfigurant son succès. En attendant que son équipe prenne position autour de la clairière, Lilith a pensé aux avantages que ses adversaires avaient. Trois des quatre avaient un pokemon: un Sneazel, Houndour, et Electabuzz serait une grande aide pour les rebelles. Deux d'entre eux avaient évidemment des armes, les autres n'en avaient peut-être pas. Ce n'est qu'à ce moment que Lilith s'est rendu compte que l'un d'eux est un ex-régime. Ça ne l'a pas dérangée du tout. Il va recevoir la mort d'un traître, comme les autres qu'elle pensait. Avant qu'elle puisse identifier l'ex-soldat plus loin, quatre clics sonnaient dans la com qu'elle portait dans son oreille. Les sons indiquaient que les quatre membres de son équipe étaient prêts. Que le spectacle commence! Une vilaine lueur brillait dans ses yeux. Lilith a allumé les quatre soldats HUD et leur a donné le coup d'envoi. Tout d'un coup, l'enfer a éclaté autour du groupe de rebelles sans méfiance. Les Houndours des quatre soldats du régime sont allés travailler à l'éclairage de la forêt environnante. Le bois sec pris presque instantanément, dirigé par le pokémon bien entraîné pour encercler les rebelles dans un mur de feu. Simultanément, le tireur de son équipe a exécuté des ordres spéciaux. Il devait assassiner l'ex-soldat, réduisant considérablement le risque d'échec. Même s'il ne semblait pas être des opérations spéciales, la plupart des soldats du régime pouvaient se battre pour sortir d'un piège. Il avait la plus grande chance de survivre. Le soldat a laissé sortir le bipode de son fusil, et il a tendance à augmenter sa précision. Les cheveux croisés de son champ d'application se sont calmés sur la tête de la cible. Il a arrêté de respirer, se préparant pour le coup de pied. Il a appuyé lentement sur la gâchette... BANG! Avant qu'il ne puisse tirer, une explosion s'est déclenchée au loin. Il s'en était pris à ça, ce qui l'avait fait frapper l'arbre derrière l'ex-régime. Un autre camion a explosé à ce moment-là. Lilith attendit de voir comment le groupe rebelle réagirait, prêt à chasser après n'importe quelle nausée qui a réussi à s'échapper.

Aiden Iri "Today is as good as any to die." -Unknown ~Life is a highway - Tom Cochrane || ~Born to be wild - Steppenwolf Specs 🔥 Full Name 🔥 Aiden Iri 🔥 Nickname 🔥 Uhhh... see above. 🔥 Sex Identification 🔥 Male, straight. 🔥 Birth-date 🔥 4 May 2323 ; 24yo 🔥 Place of Birth 🔥 Anchorage, AK 🔥 Additional Info 🔥 6'2"; 194 lbs; lean build History 🔥 Rebel or Regime? 🔥 REBEL 🔥 Pokemon Companion 🔥 Eithina, an Eevee 🔥 History with Pokemon 🔥 Found Eithina a few years back, running from some regime thugs. Abandoned in a alley, beat to hell; I couldn't just leave her there. Course, I always knew how to take care of animals, what with me growing up on a farm an' all. Fixing her up was no trouble. As for her fear of others, we're still workin' on that. As for now, I keep her safe, she keeps me company. Anyway that's the short of it." 🔥 Short Biography 🔥 "I was taught since birth to defend my principles, what I saw right, on pain of death. Both my ma and pa believed this, lived it. All well and good, 'til they were killed for it. Bunch of regime assholes sayin' the farm wasn't producing enough and that they would have to take it over. Course they took it in the end anyways. With nothin' but the blood of my loved ones holding me to the land, I ran. I was...probably fifteen at the time. Been runnin' ever since, looking for a chance to avenge my kin and all the others the regime has wronged." Aiden lived on a miltank / cattle farm in his early years. Despite the regime's tight grasp on everything, it was perhaps the only way people had any freedom at the time. The regime, with a very watchful eye, allowed Aiden's family to live outside the city, on regime government land populated by regime animals. 🔥 Persona 🔥 Aiden is a driven spirit, more-so than many others. His belief is that a man's only worth the sweat on his brow and the strength of his back. That is to say, he believes strongly in the power of hard work. Before his parents' death, he had drive. Though his past changed him, it did not break him. The regime gave him purpose, a target to focus his energy on. He is adamantly opposed to doing anything 'the lazy way', especially if it achieves a less reliable result. More generally, Aiden is a man of principle. He does his best to live the way his parents saw fit. Above all, he strives to be an honest individual. Lying for personal gain does not sit well with him; he will rarely resort to such behavior. However, he will do anything to keep his friends safe, be it lie, kill, cheat, or steal. Aiden is a resilient spirit. He is discouraged very little. He always finds a way to work around his problems, which makes him a quite skillful 'builder' (here 'builder' is used to mean, one who makes useful objects out of less useful objects). Rooting in his experience with farm equipment, Aiden enjoys tinkering with anything he can find. Mostly, in this day and age, his knowledge has been implemented to build defensive equipment -rudimentary bombs, handheld weapons, and other lethal instruments. He can most easily take something apart, clean it, put it back together, and tell you how it works, regardless of how complex. 🔥 Physical Description 🔥 At 6'2" and 221 lbs, it would be most apt to describe Aiden as a ball of muscle. Constant wrench turning, along with the exercise gained from evading regime troops, has kept him in peak physical condition. Because razors are a rare find in the post-regime streets, Aiden's sandy hair fluctuates between long and shaven for fairly equal but unpredictable intervals. As of now, it is around four inches in length, left messy and unkempt. His dark brown eyes appear gaunt, weathered. Eithina Personality: Eithina is a tough spirit, adaptable to almost any situation she encounters with ease. Her mental toughness is her foundation and has much to do with where she is today. She is also incredibly intelligent for a pokemon, able to understand even complex commands. She enjoys volunteering in Aiden's builds, often by acting as a "go-fer". She is somewhat able to interpret English numbers, though only ones with very little variance (IE, not hand-written). Though she is very proficient alone, she has a personality like an uncontrollable fire, making teamwork more difficult. She is very competitive, aggressive even, and resorts quickly to fighting. She is also very reluctant to form good relationships, be it with new people or new pokemon. Despite her shortcomings, Eithina is very protective of those she considers a friend. Appearance: Apart from a standard Eevee, Eithina has a small portion of the tip of her left ear torn off. Additionally, she wears a red scarf, which she is never seen without. Lilith Absinthe "Can't I just say something clever and quote myself?" -Lilith ~F****d Up World - The Pretty Reckless || ~Paranoia - ADTR Look at me! LOOK AT ME! 💗 Full-Birth Given Name 💗 "Lilith Malina Absinthe, present and accounted for!" 💗 Nickname 💗 "Lilly, Lilith, Sin; anything really, if it gets my attention!" 💗 Sex Identification 💗 "Female, and I'm not picky." 💗 Birthdate 💗 18 March 2328, 19 💗 Place of Birth 💗 Prairie Village, Nebraska 💗 Also Knowing 💗 "Killing is my favorite ;)!!!" My Appetite for Destruction 💗 Rebel or Regime? 💗 REGIME 💗 Pokemon Companion 💗 Gengar 💗 History with Pokemon 💗 "Gengar was given to me by the regime recently. He was supposed to help me hunt down nasty rebels, but most the time he has other ideas. Though he is pretty headstrong, I think he knows who his evil overlord is (ME!!). Despite our differences, we both enjoy unchecked violence, so I'm sure we'll get along fine =)." 💗 Short Biography 💗 Lilith had trouble relating to anyone as a child. Even her own parents feared the darkness they saw inside her. What others saw as some sort of insanity however, the regime saw as a useful combat tool. At the age of ten, Lilith was plucked from her normal life and placed in a regime academy. Though she wasn't the biggest or the smartest, she seemed to have an innate aptitude for violence. After progressing quickly through even the most difficult regime training, Lilith was given her pokemon servant and sent on her way. 💗 Persona 💗 Lilith is a great advocate of all things destructive. She is incredibly flashy, preferring only the most explosive methods possible for hunting and killing her rebel enemies. One might say that showmanship is her middle name. She is able to operate on much higher levels of 'crazy' than most others. Because of this, she is quite skilled at hatching and carrying out complex plans. Though seemingly committed to the regime, her alliances only lie with those that can offer her the most fun. As of now, the regime is the highest bidder. 💗 Physical Description 💗 Lilith is rather small, at 5'5" and 124lbs. Though she seems scrawny, she is actually rather tough. Her hair is as wild as her personality, typically worn long. Her eyes, though playful, have a darkness in them.

Isaiah Vantas Interactions avec l'équipe de Lillith Effet d'actions Jackson & Ravens Shade * Quelques minutes avant l'attaque * Isaïe a creusé à travers l'épave, heureux pour la fumée et la poussière qui ont encore filtré à travers les camions fumeurs autour de lui. Il avait commencé à chercher ce qu'il pouvait, ramassant trois fusils d'assaut intacts, des munitions pertinentes, deux bras latéraux et trois pokeballs, dont deux étaient endommagés et inutilisables. La question de savoir si le pokemon était à l'intérieur était une autre question. Le troisième était vide cependant, et Isaïe a donné un cri silencieux dans le bonheur alors qu'il a réduit la chose et l'a empoché. Il s'est levé, sur le point de partir quand il a entendu des feuilles rouiller. Il se retourna, voyant un petit champignon bleu partiellement caché derrière un arbre. Un petit morceau de sang semblait marquer la couronne du shroom. Curiosité a frappé Isaïe et il s'est dirigé vers lui, agenouillé pour le choisir, quand il s'est rendu compte que c'était en fait un pokémon. "Oh, regarde-toi, ici seul... tu étais dans l'un de ces paris..." Il se déplaçait à l'un des pokeballs cassés sur le sol. Les ralts le regardaient, les yeux rouges apparaissant sous la couronne de la tête. Les ralts et leurs évolutions avaient une capacité particulière à sentir les émotions et les intentions de ceux qui les entourent, et donc ces ralts savaient qu'Isaïe ne lui ferait pas de mal. Isaïe sourit au pokémon et essuya le sang pour voir une lacération de taille modérée qui avait cessé de saigner maintenant. "Pourquoi ne viens-tu pas avec moi, et on peut t'arranger?" Il offrit les ralts à sa main, et les ralts les enlevèrent doucement. Isaïe a ensuite ramassé le pokemon et l'a placé dans son capot, de sorte que la tête de ralt a à peine nettoyé le sommet d'Isaïe. Mais à ce moment-là, tout l'enfer s'est détaché à quelques mètres de lui. *Pendant l'attaque* Isaïe avait une pensée égoïste au moment où les ravages éclataient. Il était heureux d'avoir quitté le groupe quelques minutes plus tôt pour aller chercher. Il était à environ 60 mètres, assez près pour voir ce qui se passait, assez loin pour ne pas y être. Pourtant, il ne pouvait rien entendre après l'explosion, qui s'était produite assez près que Isaïe avait maintenant des brûlures au premier degré sur son visage et ses mains. "Que faire, que faire..." Isaïe s'est brouillé en regardant et en se déplaçant pour avoir une vue de la clairière. Il pouvait voir deux des soldats, les plus proches de lui, avancer sur le groupe. Seule la chance, la fumée et le positionnement de lui-même et des camions les avaient empêchés de le remarquer jusqu'à présent. "Pardonne-moi..." était tout ce qu'il a dit alors qu'il tirait l'un des fusils d'assaut de petit bullpop qui avait été dans son sac à dos, ceux récupérés des soldats. Isaiah a glissé un clip en place avec un clic métallique, a tiré la poignée de charge pour charger dans une balle, et a tiré une fois la détente, en envoyant une balle dans l'arrière de la tête d'un soldat. "Raltes, téléportation!" Il a crié, toujours incapable d'entendre, et par conséquent de parler très fort. Ralts l'a fait, les amenant une vingtaine de mètres dans la forêt, hors de la ligne de vue des soldats. Isaïe se prépara à rentrer dans la frénésie, un sourire un peu sadique sur son visage. Il était prêt à tous les tuer... Les ralts tremblaient, haïssant les émotions venant de son nouvel ami...

Aiden Iri "Today is as good as any to die." -Unknown ~Life is a highway - Tom Cochrane || ~Born to be wild - Steppenwolf Specs 🔥 Full Name 🔥 Aiden Iri 🔥 Nickname 🔥 Uhhh... see above. 🔥 Sex Identification 🔥 Male, straight. 🔥 Birth-date 🔥 4 May 2323 ; 24yo 🔥 Place of Birth 🔥 Anchorage, AK 🔥 Additional Info 🔥 6'2"; 194 lbs; lean build History 🔥 Rebel or Regime? 🔥 REBEL 🔥 Pokemon Companion 🔥 Eithina, an Eevee 🔥 History with Pokemon 🔥 Found Eithina a few years back, running from some regime thugs. Abandoned in a alley, beat to hell; I couldn't just leave her there. Course, I always knew how to take care of animals, what with me growing up on a farm an' all. Fixing her up was no trouble. As for her fear of others, we're still workin' on that. As for now, I keep her safe, she keeps me company. Anyway that's the short of it." 🔥 Short Biography 🔥 "I was taught since birth to defend my principles, what I saw right, on pain of death. Both my ma and pa believed this, lived it. All well and good, 'til they were killed for it. Bunch of regime assholes sayin' the farm wasn't producing enough and that they would have to take it over. Course they took it in the end anyways. With nothin' but the blood of my loved ones holding me to the land, I ran. I was...probably fifteen at the time. Been runnin' ever since, looking for a chance to avenge my kin and all the others the regime has wronged." Aiden lived on a miltank / cattle farm in his early years. Despite the regime's tight grasp on everything, it was perhaps the only way people had any freedom at the time. The regime, with a very watchful eye, allowed Aiden's family to live outside the city, on regime government land populated by regime animals. 🔥 Persona 🔥 Aiden is a driven spirit, more-so than many others. His belief is that a man's only worth the sweat on his brow and the strength of his back. That is to say, he believes strongly in the power of hard work. Before his parents' death, he had drive. Though his past changed him, it did not break him. The regime gave him purpose, a target to focus his energy on. He is adamantly opposed to doing anything 'the lazy way', especially if it achieves a less reliable result. More generally, Aiden is a man of principle. He does his best to live the way his parents saw fit. Above all, he strives to be an honest individual. Lying for personal gain does not sit well with him; he will rarely resort to such behavior. However, he will do anything to keep his friends safe, be it lie, kill, cheat, or steal. Aiden is a resilient spirit. He is discouraged very little. He always finds a way to work around his problems, which makes him a quite skillful 'builder' (here 'builder' is used to mean, one who makes useful objects out of less useful objects). Rooting in his experience with farm equipment, Aiden enjoys tinkering with anything he can find. Mostly, in this day and age, his knowledge has been implemented to build defensive equipment -rudimentary bombs, handheld weapons, and other lethal instruments. He can most easily take something apart, clean it, put it back together, and tell you how it works, regardless of how complex. 🔥 Physical Description 🔥 At 6'2" and 221 lbs, it would be most apt to describe Aiden as a ball of muscle. Constant wrench turning, along with the exercise gained from evading regime troops, has kept him in peak physical condition. Because razors are a rare find in the post-regime streets, Aiden's sandy hair fluctuates between long and shaven for fairly equal but unpredictable intervals. As of now, it is around four inches in length, left messy and unkempt. His dark brown eyes appear gaunt, weathered. Eithina Personality: Eithina is a tough spirit, adaptable to almost any situation she encounters with ease. Her mental toughness is her foundation and has much to do with where she is today. She is also incredibly intelligent for a pokemon, able to understand even complex commands. She enjoys volunteering in Aiden's builds, often by acting as a "go-fer". She is somewhat able to interpret English numbers, though only ones with very little variance (IE, not hand-written). Though she is very proficient alone, she has a personality like an uncontrollable fire, making teamwork more difficult. She is very competitive, aggressive even, and resorts quickly to fighting. She is also very reluctant to form good relationships, be it with new people or new pokemon. Despite her shortcomings, Eithina is very protective of those she considers a friend. Appearance: Apart from a standard Eevee, Eithina has a small portion of the tip of her left ear torn off. Additionally, she wears a red scarf, which she is never seen without. Lilith Absinthe "Can't I just say something clever and quote myself?" -Lilith ~F****d Up World - The Pretty Reckless || ~Paranoia - ADTR Look at me! LOOK AT ME! 💗 Full-Birth Given Name 💗 "Lilith Malina Absinthe, present and accounted for!" 💗 Nickname 💗 "Lilly, Lilith, Sin; anything really, if it gets my attention!" 💗 Sex Identification 💗 "Female, and I'm not picky." 💗 Birthdate 💗 18 March 2328, 19 💗 Place of Birth 💗 Prairie Village, Nebraska 💗 Also Knowing 💗 "Killing is my favorite ;)!!!" My Appetite for Destruction 💗 Rebel or Regime? 💗 REGIME 💗 Pokemon Companion 💗 Gengar 💗 History with Pokemon 💗 "Gengar was given to me by the regime recently. He was supposed to help me hunt down nasty rebels, but most the time he has other ideas. Though he is pretty headstrong, I think he knows who his evil overlord is (ME!!). Despite our differences, we both enjoy unchecked violence, so I'm sure we'll get along fine =)." 💗 Short Biography 💗 Lilith had trouble relating to anyone as a child. Even her own parents feared the darkness they saw inside her. What others saw as some sort of insanity however, the regime saw as a useful combat tool. At the age of ten, Lilith was plucked from her normal life and placed in a regime academy. Though she wasn't the biggest or the smartest, she seemed to have an innate aptitude for violence. After progressing quickly through even the most difficult regime training, Lilith was given her pokemon servant and sent on her way. 💗 Persona 💗 Lilith is a great advocate of all things destructive. She is incredibly flashy, preferring only the most explosive methods possible for hunting and killing her rebel enemies. One might say that showmanship is her middle name. She is able to operate on much higher levels of 'crazy' than most others. Because of this, she is quite skilled at hatching and carrying out complex plans. Though seemingly committed to the regime, her alliances only lie with those that can offer her the most fun. As of now, the regime is the highest bidder. 💗 Physical Description 💗 Lilith is rather small, at 5'5" and 124lbs. Though she seems scrawny, she is actually rather tough. Her hair is as wild as her personality, typically worn long. Her eyes, though playful, have a darkness in them.

Ombre Interactions: Jackson, Raven () L'ombre s'est détendue lorsque le « soldat » sans nom s'est désarmé, mais seulement légèrement. En même temps qu'il parlait, elle se déplaçait déjà pour dépouiller les cadavres du Régime de tout ce qui était utile, prenant soin de trancher la gorge de chacun pour s'assurer qu'ils étaient morts, bien qu'elle se positionne toujours pour qu'elle puisse voir l'homme. Les munitions lui intéressaient; toute nourriture ou tout matériel médical qu'ils auraient pu avoir brûlait probablement avec les camions, et plus d'armes seraient trop volumineuses pour être pratiques. En plus de ça, elle s'est assez bien débrouillée avec son arc et son fusil. Elle ne s'en souciait pas beaucoup s'il pensait que c'était "silly" de brûler l'uniforme, pas plus qu'elle ne s'en souciait quand il l'avait fait ou s'il était à l'aise ou non. Jusqu'à ce qu'il le fasse, elle n'allait pas lui faire confiance. Elle ne faisait même pas confiance aux autres non plus. Au moins la fille avait clairement été captive, les garçons qu'elle ne connaissait pas d'un trou dans le sol. La confiance, Shade l'avait trouvé, était quelque chose d'aussi précieux que la nourriture et l'eau de nos jours. Elle est venue trop loin pour finir avec un autre couteau dans son dos. Si ça bouleversait les autres, ils n'avaient pas à rester. En voyant la fille s'approcher, Shade ne s'est pas trop concentrée sur elle, continuant à piller les cadavres. Quand elle a été remerciée pour son aide, elle a tout simplement grognonné non committally. Dit la fille qui s'est fait attraper une fois déjà. Dit malgré ses mots, il n'y avait pas de malice derrière eux. Soyez prudent. Si la fille voulait le risquer, c'était son choix. Shade n'était pas sur le point de lui dire quoi faire. C'était sa vie. Razor agissait bizarrement, en gardant son regard verrouillé sur l'Electabuzz. Quoi qu'il se passe entre eux, Shade était assez intelligent pour rester en dehors de ça. Il y avait beaucoup de choses que les gens ne comprenaient pas à propos de Pokemon, l'une des nombreuses raisons que Shade haïssait le régime. Ils ont agi comme s'ils étaient au-dessus du monde au lieu d'une partie de celui-ci, qu'ils pouvaient faire quoi qu'il en soit qu'ils ne soient satisfaits d'aucune conséquence. Ils ont tout détruit sur leur chemin. Des gens comme ça étaient un peu plus qu'une maladie, une chose morte qui devait être coupée. La détonation du réservoir de carburant dans l'un des camions a masqué le bruit du coup de feu, mais c'était un rappel suffisant pour Shade qu'il était temps de partir. Elle n'avait aucun désir d'être capturée ; en toute probabilité, elle serait fusillée dès que quelqu'un aurait compris qu'elle était le Boucher. La seule raison pour laquelle elle était si libre, c'est que les soldats n'ont pas vécu assez longtemps pour dénoncer son visage. Puis la forêt a commencé à brûler dans d'autres régions, et Shade a décidé qu'il était vraiment temps d'aller. Razor était déjà en mouvement, disparaissant dans le pinceau et le sous-bois, et elle était proche derrière le Sneasel. C'était l'élément Shade, la raison pour laquelle elle a choisi ce moniker pour les quelques fois où elle a dû interagir avec les gens. Personne ne pouvait l'attraper dans la forêt. Connaître le terrain et être imprévisible étaient les clés, donc quand un ruisseau de feu a traversé son chemin, Shade est allée tout droit à travers elle, couvrant sa bouche avec sa manche. Pendant qu'ils couraient, elle a vu Razor commencer à tourner dans la direction que la fille et le gars du Régime se dirigeaient, faisant son froncement. Quoi? Non, Razor, qu'est-ce que tu fais? Séparez-vous, stupide griffe Sharp, ne leur donnez pas une grande cible pour aller après! Grandissant en colère, Shade changea de cap et se dirigea vers l'est, vers un ravin profond où elle campait depuis quelques jours, et où il y avait quelques pièges qui attendaient quelqu'un assez stupide pour la poursuivre. Il n'a pas fallu longtemps pour que le Sneasel rattrape ses cibles, sautant de branche en branche avec la grâce lithique pour laquelle son espèce était connue. Il s'enfuit et siffla à l'Électabuzz, s'élançant et sortant de leur chemin dans une direction cohérente qu'il voulait qu'ils aillent.

Isiah "Vantage" Vantas Everything is theoretically impossible, unti it is done. -Robert A. Heinlein How far we've come by Matchbox 20 | You're going down by Sick Puppies Start of the end of the world, but... ♍ Full-Birth Given Name ♍ "Isaiah Vantas, at your service." ♍ Preferred Name | Nickname ♍ "Isaiah is fine, if we're friends. Otherwise, call me Vantage." ♍ Sex Identification ♍ "I'm not sure why you need to know, but I'm a straight male." ♍ Established In ♍ "I'm 19 (or possibly, 20), Born August 28, 2328." ♍ Place of Birth ♍ "Boston, Massachusetts" ♍ Also Knowing ♍ "I know my way around a gun very well, though I don't carry one. I'm also damn good at climbing vertical surfaces." Its feeling just like every other morning before. ♍ Rebel or Regime? ♍ "Rebel. I want freedom, like the last books speak of..." ♍ Pokemon Companion ♍ "I've never had a Pokémon stick around, but I'd love a Gardevoir..." ♍ History with Pokemon ♍ "Like I said, I don't have any Pokémon, but you can be sure I'll tell you when I do." ♍ Short Biography ♍ "I never had a lot in life, but I never thought it was bad. My parents were like most others in my town. Poor, hard working, and always scared. But I thought that was just how people lived. That is, until I stumbled upon a group of rebel sympathizers on the outskirts of town. They were at peace, enjoying life with their Pokémon and doing everything they could to be happy. But it didn't last.... The regime came for them, and wiped out most of the town as well." "Since that event, I've been travelling around collecting books and recordings of the past... I want to recreate that world, where everyone could be happy, and where Pokémon were our friends, instead of the machines of war the Regime insists they are." {symbol of your choice} Persona {symbol of your choice} If Isaiah could be described fully in a single word, that word would be "curious." Curiosity is what drives Isaiah in most of his adventures. Sure, he has his reasons beyond it, but when he sees an abandoned library, a boarded up house, or an abandoned government facility, the first thought in his head is "I wonder what's in there...." Of course, this can lead to trouble, and is a big part of the reason Isaiah has so many bite mark shaped scars. Growlithe bites hurt. Of course, there is more to him than that. Isaiah is moderately intelligent, able to think up complex plans on the go, especially when it comes to escapes. Even in the thick of things, he is always analyzing his surroundings, finding tactical vantage points and escape vectors. If you ever get into trouble and need to find a way out of it, Isaiah is the one you would want to ask. Above and beyond that though, Isaiah tends to be average in his intelligence. But that doesn't matter to him, and he doesn't mind not being the smartest. Who cares after all, when you can escape almost any situation you need. Beyond those two things, Isaiah is a kind young man with a naivety about him. He is willing to trust almost anyone at least once, and likes to make friends. He acts younger than he is when he is relaxed, giving others the impression of immaturity. The truth though, is that Isaiah just wants to have fun while he can, and refuses to let a corrupt world push that down. However, put him into a serious situation, and you can count on him for serious backup. Isaiah also has latent violent tendencies. He used to carry a gun with him, which is how he developed a great skill as a marksman, and a knowledge of gun care and maintenance. However. He realized after some time that when he had the gun, he wanted to use the gun. After his first kill, an unarmed regime member who was going to report him, Isaiah took the gun apart completely, put it in a case, and let it stay in the bottom of his backpack, unusable. However, this hasn't prevented some of his more violent tendencies for getting out, and Isaiah has a great love for street fights, whether with thieves or unarmed Regime members. {symbol of your choice} Physical Description {symbol of your choice} Isaiah is tall, standing just at 6 feet. Dark brown, short hair covers his head in a messy form, and he is almost always wearing a hoodie and jeans to help disguise himself. If you were to get his hood off, you could see bite mark scars on his neck, and even more down his body if you pulled off his clothes. Intelligent blue eyes peek out from under thick bangs, and a twice broken nose, bent to one side, makes it impossible to think of him as classically attractive. Change log - changed birthday to August 29th.

Interactions: (@Self) Jackson et Raven n'étaient pas arrivés bien avant qu'une série de sons différents n'ait soudainement disparu, l'un particulièrement un coup de feu. Bien qu'il ait semblé avoir été parfaitement abattu quand un moteur de camion derrière eux a éclaté en flammes, Jackson avait été entraîné à différencier des sons comme cela. Le tir s'était logé dans l'arbre à quelques pieds de là, et a fait tourner Jackson en arrière, mais seulement d'attraper Raven par le bras et de la traîner vers l'avant dans une course boulonnée. « Si nous nous séparons, dirigez-vous vers le nord-est vers le Maine. J'ai entendu dire qu'il y avait un refuge. Raven ne se concentrait pas trop sur ce qu'il disait. Sa tête tournait et sentait soudain le besoin de vomir. Sans avertissement, Raven s'est effondré au sol. Jackson s'arrêta dans ses traces et regarda en arrière le mur de feu qui se refermait sur eux, sachant parfaitement qui était sur leur queue, et pendant une seconde, il songea presque à la laisser pour eux. Jackson secoua la pensée de sa tête et s'éloigna rapidement d'Electabuzz, l'empoignant et plaçant la fille inconsciente sur ses épaules, tenant une jambe et un bras. Raven lâchait sur lui dans la position de Buddy-Carry, Electabuzz se plaignant à Jackson dans ses cambriolages avec Houndour grogne sur lui. On dirait que Houndour essayait de lui parler des intentions de Jackson, et cela semblait fonctionner. Electabuzz a suivi de près Jackson alors qu'il courait avec son entraîneur évanoui, en gardant un œil vigilant quand soudain il a regardé dans l'arbre pour voir Sneasel. Electabuzz a attrapé le paquet de Jackson et yanked, pointant vers Sneasel et rampant incohérentement sur lui. Jackson regarda le Pokemon et gronda à lui-même, suivant où le Sneasel essayait de les mener.

Jackson Atticus Kincaid Face Claim: Jeremy Irvine "The price of being a sheep is boredom. The price of being a wolf is loneliness. Choose one or the other with great care." -Hugh Macleod In The End by Linkin Park | Sound the Bugle by Bryan Adams The Renegade Who Had It Made, Retrieved For A Bounty ☬ Full-Birth Given Name ☬ "Jackson Atticus Kincaid, at your service." ☬ Preferred Name | Nickname ☬ "I prefer to go by Jax, or Jack. Regime just address by last names." ☬ Sex Identification ☬ Bi-Sexual male. ☬ Established In ☬ "September 22, 2323. I'm 24-years-old." ☬ Place of Birth ☬ Queens, New York. ☬ Also Knowing ☬ "I still carry my shock baton and assault rifle with me, though my rifle has no rounds in it. Just for show, and to fool the fools that still think I'm Regime. I stay in my uniform for that specific reason, though I do have a change of clothes in my pack." This Will Be the End Today of a Wanted Man ☬ Rebel or Regime? ☬ Ex-Regime, turned Rebel. ☬ Pokemon Companion ☬ "I own a Houndour, who I've since named Grimm, that was given to me by the Regime. He and I used to just have a 'master and slave' type relationship as the Regime would have us treat our pokemon, but I've tried getting closer with him since I left. He seems to becoming more fond of me." ☬ History with Pokemon ☬ "I was given Grimm when I was an active soldier for the regime. It used to be, if I said jump he'd immediately do so. Now, he's become my only friend I have. We're trying to better the companionship we've started since I left." ☬ Short Biography ☬ "I grew up in a semi-wealthy family that didn't know what rationing was, like the lower class. My family was decently provided for, and we had relations with people in the Regime. My uncle, specifically, was a military captain. He brought me into the military under his wing when I was just 18 years old. Been a Regime soldier ever since. I know how to avoid them, so it's pretty easy for me to stay out of sight." ☬ Persona ☬ Jackson wants to be a hero, someone that everyone knows and reveres. But barring that, he’s willing to be a sort of dark knight. As the youngest of six and constantly disregarded, Jackson is independent and desperate to prove himself, wanting to show his personal talent and leave a legacy behind in the minds of everyone. But he’s not brash. He is content to observe and work quietly, and he’s very intelligent, which is no small aid. He thinks before he acts and is adept at seeing all sides and analyzing situations so he can act to his best advantage. He wants to be something and make something of himself; proving himself better than anyone could have expected is one of his highest priorities. Jackson's social skills need work. He has somewhat of a low tolerance for certain people and is dismissive of those who are loud, unsubtle, and quick to offer opinions for everything. Nevertheless, other people are often "entitled" to his opinion in the form of his biting sarcastic remarks. Other than that he is a quiet and even somewhat withdrawn guy. While he enjoys the company of some of people, solitude is a balm for him. He has to be able to think and study. Jackson is a knowledge seeker. He is one of those people who believe that knowledge and intelligence are central to success and power, so many things fascinate him and he could easily be found reading if he wasn't constantly on the run. In his mind no fact or understanding of a process or a tendency is unimportant or useless, and may help a person when they least expect it to. As such, he can usually provide extra information on most any subject, even if he gives it in a condescending manner. He is proud of what he knows, both the facts and the underlying understanding of how things work. Interestingly, though, Jackson’s quiet, studious exterior hides somewhat of a rebellious and unconventional streak. He likes to go his own way and will do it willingly. He also respects authority, but follows rules when it suits him—in other words, most of the time, but not if he has something else in mind that he deems worth the risk of losing points in the eyes of his higher ranking officers or perhaps damaging his image a little. However, as important as that is to him, these moments come very rarely. More frequently his unconventionality is manifested in an experimentative tendency. Jackson loves a challenge and he loves besting people, but it is usually a private victory for him. He needs not brag and draw attention to his success as long as he knows personally that he has won. However, this is not to say that he doesn’t need others’ acclaim. Being noticed is important to him, and he hates being ignored, but he would rather people notice by themselves how outstanding he truly is. That being said, criticism tends to bounce off of him as well--he is rather selective about what he hears and chooses to take to heart. Despite a sometimes ungracious manner, and a self-preserving and self-benefiting attitude, the guy is not bad at heart. He would always stick up for those he considers his friends, and is not averse to helping even strangers, after he is finished or providing it doesn’t inconvenience him. But when he is hurt, it is common to find him completely withdrawn and intractable, working only for himself in a kind of cool temper that can take a while to thaw out, even with the efforts of his closest friends. Unfortunately, Jackson is also prone to hold grudges after problems with others, and he is stubborn about them, though adaptable in other situations. Jackson is a careful and patient guy. He’ll watch and wait for a long time with an observant and analyzing eye without feeling a need to do anything himself, gaining something from everything he sees. Not only that, he’s good at making what he sees help him in some way. He’s also good at using all the resources he can to help him achieve whatever goal he has in mind. Jackson is driven and works diligently to achieve any goal he’s set for himself, and places these goals above most other things. As such, he’s very organized; he hates clutter and his personal space, personal appearance, and his management of time and such are all very neat and organized, often following a schedule or other method of keeping everything in its proper place and time. It bothers him when things aren’t set out clearly and prioritized so they can be followed right. He’s a very good multi-tasker and his organization helps him make sure everything gets accomplished exactly when and how he planned it to. If it doesn't, he'll fix it until it does. ☬ Physical Description ☬ Jackson is roughly 6'3" and weighs a total of 194lbs. He keeps his dark brown hair cropped kind of short, maybe only a couple inches in length. His eyes are a light grey color that turn almost hazel when he's upset, which is very rare to see with him. When he gets mad, they seem to turn almost black, they get so dark. His body is toned and he continues to maintain that each and every day. He'll exercise with his houndoor Grimm for hours, when he can. Maya "Raven" Reyes Face Claim: Lindsey Morgan "Rebellion is the only thing that keeps you alive." -Marianne Faithfull Dare to Believe by Boyce Avenue | Problem by Ariana Grande ft. Iggy Azalea I'm Heading Straight For the Castle ♠ Full-Birth Given Name ♠ "Maya Reyes. No, I don't possess a middle name." ♠ Preferred Name | Nickname ♠ "I tend to just go by 'Raven'. It's a nickname my mom gave me as a kid." ♠ Sex Identification ♠ Heterosexual female, here. ♠ Established In ♠ "May 20th, 2327. Yes, that makes me 20-years-old." ♠ Place of Birth ♠ New Orleans, Louisiana. ♠ Also Knowing ♠ "I carry a knife with me, it stays strapped to the inside of my jacket, while I also have an axe I keep at my hip. What?.. Safety Precautions." They Wanna Make Me Their Queen ♠ Rebel or Regime? ♠ "Rebel. Not hard to tell. I'm constantly on the run." ♠ Pokemon Companion ♠ "I have an Electabuzz with me." ♠ History with Pokemon ♠ "Well, I met Electabuzz as an Elekid. He used to hang around my childhood home, and occasionally I would feed him. Even brought him inside from the rain a few nights. My parents didn't like me playing with the wild pokemon, so it was kept quiet for a long time. Elekid, at the time, seemed to be very understanding. Around the time when I turned 15, I was getting deep into my rebellious stage and went so far as to sneak onto a Regime truck and steal a pokeball. Well, technically an Ultra ball. I made sure to find an Ultra because its colors matched Elekid's patterns. When I returned home that night, I couldn't find Elekid anywhere. I searched and searched but he was nowhere to be found. I thought maybe he'd gotten picked up by the Regime while I was gone, so I sat the ball ontop of my dresser and left it as a reminder, thinking I'd never see him again. The next morning, however, I found an Electabuzz in my front yard staring me down. Only thing that told me it wasn't going to attack was the genuine smile on its face. It didn't take me long to realize what had happened. I then asked the, now, Electabuzz if it'd go into a permanent partnership with me. I offered up the pokeball, and promised him if he ever felt threatened by me or just flat out didn't want to be around me anymore, I'd set him free. We've been together ever since. He's my best bud." ♠ Short Biography ♠ "I came from a low-class migrant farmer family who didn't have much to begin with. Poverty is a disease in our family, one spread from generation to generation, even before the wars f*cked everything up even worse. My parents made sure to give my brother and I the best education their money could afford, though. They, as well as my brother, gave up their lives to let me escape The Regime. Our parents were late on their payments, and The Regime came to claim what wasn't rightfully theirs. Since I had my own pokemon that wasn't registered, my parents advised me to leave. My brother tried to join me, but they caught on that we were on the run and he created a diversion. I've been on the run with Electabuzz ever since." ♠ Persona ♠ Upon a first meeting, Raven is usually rather quiet. Although she likes the company of people, she doesn't typically approach others unless she's pretty sure they'll welcome it. Once acquainted with someone, though, she can be quite animated and talkative, more lighthearted and teasing the closer she is to someone. She is fiercely loyal to the people she cares for, helping them at all costs, and is generally kind. Her friends can always rely on her for level-headed advice, a listening ear, or help with classwork--regarding the latter, she's a hard worker that usually enjoys the work she does, and is prone to trying to focus people back on the main subject or task at hand. If she doesn't know someone, however, she can be judgmental at times if someone seems ignorant or shallow; Raven is fairly quick to form opinions of people and sticks to her first impression, unless enough contrasting evidence is set before her. Raven is naturally outspoken and hates having to mask or hide herself and how she is. She knows how to keep quiet when she has recognized that caution and prudence are necessary, but would prefer to speak her mind, and can be rather blunt. Raven is opinionated and has things to say and ideas to give on everything, which contributes to activity in classes and discussions with her friends. She will doggedly uphold her beliefs no matter what. Raven has an acute sense of right and wrong. She believes in always doing what she believes is the right thing, no matter what other people say and think. She has a high sense of honor and returns assistance and even kindness to anyone who has done her a good turn, no matter how much she may dislike them. She is also usually, if grudgingly, fair, even if this is colored, again, by an inherent dislike of the person she is thinking about or referring to. Although fairly intelligent, and someone who will give her all and put her mind to something once she gets around to it, Raven's mind can tend to wander off, especially if something big is weighing on her mind and what she's doing is rather mundane. Someone who likes to see the "big picture", she can get caught up in it instead of focusing on what she's doing in the here and now unless they are tied together. However, it's rare that she doesn't complete a task that she's given, even if it starts in a delayed fashion. She tries her hardest to produce good results in whatever she does, and once she decides on a course of action, she is determined to follow it through to the end. Quite stubborn, it is extremely difficult for someone to change her mind after she's made a decision, though she can be influenced successfully while she is still considering her options. Although she tries to control her temper, it can be quite violent with proper provocation. During the end of the last war, she became much more easily provoked, taking more strongly to old prejudices; this has mostly worn off, but she experiences flare-ups occasionally. This was also accompanied by an increase in impulsiveness and recklessness, but she's really feeling more like her normal self, although a touch of extra spark and fire seems to be part of her for good. In her natural state, though, relatively free from any out-of-the-ordinary stress, Raven tries and usually succeeds in being clear-headed in her decisions, thinking things through. Although she seems rather unassuming, Raven also is fond of adventure and trying out new things. Because she believes that doing something worthwhile in the world is important, and that there are things that people are just meant to do, she's always wanted to keep doing different things to figure out what she's good at and what she's passionate about. To a degree, she also just enjoys a bit of danger and the unknown, even though she recognizes that stability is often better and has become much more cautious than she was when she was younger. When it comes down to it, Raven values simplicity and straightforwardness in life. To her it's comforting to have a goal and know who you can count on, and having both she feels quite at ease with life. Whatever she does though, there's very little that the young witch regrets, and she's proud of who she is and where she's been. ♠ Physical Description ♠ Raven doesn't stand much taller than 5'6" and weighs a petite 114lbs. Her Mexican and Native features truly stand out with her dark brown, almost black hair, tanned skin and dark eyes to match. She has full lashes and fixed eyebrows to go with them. Her facial expressions usually show she means business, and it's rare to see her smile, but given the chance, she lights up any room. She has two tattoos and a paper crane necklace she wears. One of the tattoos is of black wings, one on each shoulder/arm, to go along with her nickname. The other is a quote across her chest that reads, "Can't put your arms around a memory."

Ombre S'il vous plaît, Razor s'est harcelé et s'est barré à travers les arbres, s'arrêtant tous les deux cents pieds pour s'accrocher à une branche et s'assurer qu'ils suivaient. Peu à peu, il les conduisit dans une courbe orientale, ignorant les coups de feu et le rugissement des flammes derrière eux. La croissance de la forêt est devenue plus dense, en pente descendante un peu avant la fin de la soirée. Quand ils traversèrent un petit ruisseau, et le feu n'était rien d'autre qu'un grand panache de fumée qui se levait sur les arbres, le Sneasel s'éloigna soudain des arbres, les brouillant. Créer une paire de charrues dans ses mains, il les a plantées dans le sol, et a commencé à les conduire personnellement le long d'un chemin de tissage, ne se précipitant plus comme avant mais toujours urgent. Chaque fois, il plantait un autre petit char de glace dans le sol, les sifflant et les agitant loin de lui. Au bout d'un court moment, il reprit un arbre, pointa devant eux et leur donna une courte grimace avant de se hâter de revenir sur leur chemin. Au fond du ravin, Shade finissait ses affaires. L'éclaboussure de pierres derrière elle lui fit saisir son fusil et tourbillonner, mais elle se détendit légèrement quand elle vit l'Electabuzz et deux humains. Il n'y a pas eu de chute. C'est bien.

Isiah "Vantage" Vantas Everything is theoretically impossible, unti it is done. -Robert A. Heinlein How far we've come by Matchbox 20 | You're going down by Sick Puppies Start of the end of the world, but... ♍ Full-Birth Given Name ♍ "Isaiah Vantas, at your service." ♍ Preferred Name | Nickname ♍ "Isaiah is fine, if we're friends. Otherwise, call me Vantage." ♍ Sex Identification ♍ "I'm not sure why you need to know, but I'm a straight male." ♍ Established In ♍ "I'm 19 (or possibly, 20), Born August 28, 2328." ♍ Place of Birth ♍ "Boston, Massachusetts" ♍ Also Knowing ♍ "I know my way around a gun very well, though I don't carry one. I'm also damn good at climbing vertical surfaces." Its feeling just like every other morning before. ♍ Rebel or Regime? ♍ "Rebel. I want freedom, like the last books speak of..." ♍ Pokemon Companion ♍ "I've never had a Pokémon stick around, but I'd love a Gardevoir..." ♍ History with Pokemon ♍ "Like I said, I don't have any Pokémon, but you can be sure I'll tell you when I do." ♍ Short Biography ♍ "I never had a lot in life, but I never thought it was bad. My parents were like most others in my town. Poor, hard working, and always scared. But I thought that was just how people lived. That is, until I stumbled upon a group of rebel sympathizers on the outskirts of town. They were at peace, enjoying life with their Pokémon and doing everything they could to be happy. But it didn't last.... The regime came for them, and wiped out most of the town as well." "Since that event, I've been travelling around collecting books and recordings of the past... I want to recreate that world, where everyone could be happy, and where Pokémon were our friends, instead of the machines of war the Regime insists they are." {symbol of your choice} Persona {symbol of your choice} If Isaiah could be described fully in a single word, that word would be "curious." Curiosity is what drives Isaiah in most of his adventures. Sure, he has his reasons beyond it, but when he sees an abandoned library, a boarded up house, or an abandoned government facility, the first thought in his head is "I wonder what's in there...." Of course, this can lead to trouble, and is a big part of the reason Isaiah has so many bite mark shaped scars. Growlithe bites hurt. Of course, there is more to him than that. Isaiah is moderately intelligent, able to think up complex plans on the go, especially when it comes to escapes. Even in the thick of things, he is always analyzing his surroundings, finding tactical vantage points and escape vectors. If you ever get into trouble and need to find a way out of it, Isaiah is the one you would want to ask. Above and beyond that though, Isaiah tends to be average in his intelligence. But that doesn't matter to him, and he doesn't mind not being the smartest. Who cares after all, when you can escape almost any situation you need. Beyond those two things, Isaiah is a kind young man with a naivety about him. He is willing to trust almost anyone at least once, and likes to make friends. He acts younger than he is when he is relaxed, giving others the impression of immaturity. The truth though, is that Isaiah just wants to have fun while he can, and refuses to let a corrupt world push that down. However, put him into a serious situation, and you can count on him for serious backup. Isaiah also has latent violent tendencies. He used to carry a gun with him, which is how he developed a great skill as a marksman, and a knowledge of gun care and maintenance. However. He realized after some time that when he had the gun, he wanted to use the gun. After his first kill, an unarmed regime member who was going to report him, Isaiah took the gun apart completely, put it in a case, and let it stay in the bottom of his backpack, unusable. However, this hasn't prevented some of his more violent tendencies for getting out, and Isaiah has a great love for street fights, whether with thieves or unarmed Regime members. {symbol of your choice} Physical Description {symbol of your choice} Isaiah is tall, standing just at 6 feet. Dark brown, short hair covers his head in a messy form, and he is almost always wearing a hoodie and jeans to help disguise himself. If you were to get his hood off, you could see bite mark scars on his neck, and even more down his body if you pulled off his clothes. Intelligent blue eyes peek out from under thick bangs, and a twice broken nose, bent to one side, makes it impossible to think of him as classically attractive. Change log - changed birthday to August 29th.

Première histoire Arc - Crosshaven Dans un monde qui s'éloigne peu à peu de la superstition et des choses contre nature, le voyant est une étrangeté. Peut-être que le voyant pourrait être décrit comme un vieux reste de l'époque mythique passé, une étrangeté, un inconnu qui fascine et effraie les autres. Pourtant, le légendaire existe encore dans des endroits et tous les endroits ne suivent pas le chemin du progrès, donc peut-être qu'il y a encore place pour le voyant dans nos vies. Pourtant... personne ne s'attend vraiment à ce que le voyant ressemble à ça. Se tenant debout seulement 5'5'' avec des cheveux noirs, longs attachés dans une queue d'un côté, et une peau pâle et translucide; le voyant est une étrangeté à voir. Ce qui compense la confusion des gens, c'est le fait qu'il n'y a aucun moyen de dire si The Seer est un homme ou une femme, un joli garçon ou une belle fille. Habituellement, lorsque les gens rencontrent le voyant, ils essaient de décider quel pronom personnel attribuer au voyant, comme c'était le cas avec le fermier qui avait choisi le voyant sur son chemin vers Crosshaven. -- Alors, jeune homme? Le fermier demanda, comme il n'était pas sûr, si ce personnage de porcelaine assis sur le siège du wagon à côté de lui était en fait un homme. "Qu'est-ce qui amène un type comme vous à ces parties?" Le voyant regarda de nouveau le fermier un moment avec des yeux de réglisse qui semblaient pouvoir piéger de toute façon en les regardant de nouveau. Le fermier était parfaitement reflété dans ces yeux en verre, donc il ressentait le besoin de regarder loin et de revenir sur la route. Bien sûr, le fermier ignorait qui était le personnage à côté de lui, mais il pensait que c'était quelqu'un avec une éducation décente, plus par la façon dont le voyant a répondu. « Nous avons ressenti un changement dans ce domaine et avons besoin d'enquêter. Je sais aussi que le destin m'a guidé ici pour une raison quelconque, que la raison devrait m'être connue à temps. » Le Seer a commencé à regarder autour de lui alors qu'ils conduisaient vers la périphérie de la ville. Le fermier ne savait vraiment pas quoi faire de son étrange passager. "Eh bien... si vous avez besoin d'un endroit pour rester devrait être une belle auberge juste en haut de la route une façon. N'importe quelle affaire que j'ai besoin de tourner ici pour que vous partiez maintenant." Le Seer s'est hissé une fois, puis s'est allumé comme une plume dans le vent, le manteau de voyage noir s'est blotti un peu avant que le Seer touche le sol. « Nous vous remercions de votre générosité, je crois que votre fille devrait naître sous peu. Beaucoup de bénédictions sur vous et votre famille." Le voyant sourit à la légère alors que l'étranger de la ville s'orientait vers des centres de population réels. Le fermier regardait avec stupidité que la figure marchait sans autres commentaires. "Comment le foin savait-il à ce sujet?" Le fermier l'a secoué et a tourné son chariot vers un chemin de terre qui se dirigeait vers ses champs. "Mais je dois dire que j'apprécie les bénédictions" Le soleil était haut dans le ciel, il y avait un peu de jour à brûler avant la tombée de la nuit. Le Seer savait qu'il y avait un besoin d'être là dans cette petite ville, maintenant juste pour comprendre ce qu'il était avant d'avoir besoin de voyager à nouveau.

Name: Unknown Appearance: (Just ignore the 'tails') Age: Unknown Gender: Unknown Bio: The Seer is an enigma and seemingly unknowable. A wanderer who at times can see the future and seems to always have mysterious events surrounding The Seer's every journey. Who is The Seer? What is the Seer? Does even The Seer know its purpose or is The Seer merely tight-lipped? What is known about the Seer is wherever The Seer travels, change is soon to follow. Who is the Seer?: The Seer is The Seer, nothing more, nothing less.

Caboose faisait son chemin vers l'auberge pour aider à décharger la voiture d'approvisionnement qui allait arriver aujourd'hui, alors qu'il marchait sur la route de terre vers l'auberge, il ne pouvait sourire que lorsque deux enfants couraient devant lui en jouant au tag. Quand les enfants ont quitté sa vue, il a remarqué un visage inconnu entrant dans le village, il a toujours été agréable de voir de nouvelles personnes visiter, Caboose aimait écouter des histoires qu'ils devaient raconter sur leurs voyages. Mais Caboose avait un travail à faire, il l'avait presque oublié des légères distractions, son attention lui était revenue quand il a vu la voiture d'approvisionnement approcher, ne voulant pas être en retard pour aider Caboose à s'enfuir vers l'auberge. Quand Caboose est arrivé à l'auberge, il a été accueilli avec le sourire du personnel qui attendait la voiture. "Oui! Je l'ai fait!" Caboose s'est exclamé avec une pompe à poing d'un ton joyeux alors qu'il regardait le chariot d'approvisionnement approcher, quand il a arrêté Caboose allait procéder à aider à décharger les caisses plus lourdes pleines d'approvisionnement et les amener à l'arrière de l'auberge.

Name: Michael J. Caboose Hunterson (or just Caboose for short) Appearance: Caboose stands just over 6ft tall, with blonde hair, blue eye's with a little more than average athletically fit build and slightly tanned light brown skin. Personality: Caboose is a cheerful fellow most of the time and always try's to see the brighter side of any situation, god have mercy on those who somehow make him mad, despite that he's not the brightest, by that I mean he's hopelessly dimwitted, but what he lacks in smarts he makes up for in his incredible almost inhuman strength. Age: 20 Gender: Male Bio: (sorry, I got a little carried away X3) Caboose is a bit of a mystery to the village of Crosshaven, he was found at night by a newly wed couple who were returning home after a little trip, Caboose was under the cover of a tree wrapped inside a small blue blanket just an hour or so away from Crosshaven on the side of the dirt road, he was just a baby, not even a year old, there was no sign of his parents. The young newly wed couple known as the Huntersuns looked around for a little for any indication of the parents before talking to each other about what they should do, they couldn't possibly leave the poor child by himself to become prey for wild animals, or worse. So they did the only logical thing and took the baby into their care until his actual parents were found. As a month went by, bad news found it's way to the Huntersuns, the boy's parents were found, dead only a few miles away from where he was found, it looked like the cause was murder, but the offenders were long gone without a trace. With the boy's parents dead, the Huntersuns took the boy into their family, and named him, as the years went by it was found out by the Huntersons the Caboose was special in more ways then one, he had incredible strength and stamina for his age, and a naturally fit body to go with it. But it was later found out Caboose had a 'slight' learning curve when it came to schooling, in the end he never finished his schooling, not that he quit, the teachers couldn't handle trying to teach him, but that didn't his adopted parents teaching him what they could, despite that he always managed to find a job to do around the village, with his strength he help with lifting various heavy objects that would at least take two or three people to move. Caboose was completely content with his life, but even so his adopted mother wanted him to live a long happy life with a family, his adopted father didn't think it was really necessary, seeing as how Caboose never appeared to be longing for a partner and was just happy to help around the village, even so Cabooses mother didn't entirely agree with her husband and thusly had a little something set up. On a day like any other, Caboose's mother had introduced him to a girl his age who also lived in the village, she was a girl who had taken a fancy to Caboose, and his mother had taken notice, when Caboose was working like any other day his mother had come by remind him he had something else to do before coming home, but before she had gotten to him she spotted a girl watching Caboose work from afar, Caboose's mother smiled ear to ear and decided to have a little chat with the girl. After about a week Caboose and the girl spent any free time they had with each other, he greatly enjoyed her company and she his, but their time together didn't go unnoticed by others, the girl with Caboose was quit the jewel to look at, Caboose didn't really care about how pretty she was, it was a plus for sure, but she was friendly and had a good heart and that's all that mattered to Caboose. But to others that wasn't the case, jealously rooted itself into the hearts of those who wanted her for themselves and they planned to make her their own through any means, it would be their greatest mistake. It was late after work, Caboose was walking the girl home, something they he'd been doing for a while now, then they were approached by to guy's from the village, roughly the same age as Caboose and they look physically intimidating, almost as much as Caboose, they attempted to convince the girl to leave Caboose to go with them, Caboose didn't really understand what was going on so the girl spoke for them, and refused the boys. Then the boy's changed their attitude with angry stares filled with jealously, it was then Caboose was blindsided from behind by two more boys and knocked to the ground with force that would have knocked a lesser man out cold, the girl tried to run to Caboose but was stopped by the two boys that hit Caboose, the girl was being manhandled by the two boys as they brought her over to the other two, they began to do vulgar acts, groping, prodding without her consent, even then when Caboose got back to his feet to go help her, it wasn't the thing that set him off. When the girl managed to get her right arm free she slapped the boy in front of her who was groping her chest, when she hit him he stared at her in shock before adopting an aggressive glare and slapping her with more force then she did leaving an instant bruise. At that moment something awakened deep within Caboose if only momentarily that slightly increased his muscle bulk, his speed and strength were nearly doubled as he charged at the offender, a look of sheer livid rage was in his eye's as he drew back his right hand and punched the boy in front of the girl with bone breaking force to the right side of his face sending him barreling down the dirt path and coming to a stop a dozen meters away, knocked out cold while bleeding from his mouth and nose. The other three boy's looked at their downed partner in crime before looking to see the eye's of rage gazing upon them, frozen in fear they couldn't escape what awaited them, the girl watched in a state of both fear and awe as Caboose nearly beat the offenders to death, she had stopped him by getting between the boy's and Caboose, reasoning that they had enough, as Caboose looked into her eye's he slowly calmed down, his muscle bulk went away before he passed out and collapsed to the ground. The girl brought Caboose home to his parents and she explained the situation, the three of them planed to talk to Caboose about it, but when he awoke he couldn't remember what happened after he seen the girl get slapped, later the next the next day the four boys who were in the wrong were punished for what they had done, and they promised they wouldn't do such a thing again out of fear of what happened to them the night before, it was then common knowledge to try and not to anger Caboose, which wasn't really a problem since nothing really angered him. As of recent Caboose had the thought of adventuring after overhearing some travelers tails of their journeys with stories of monsters and treasure, it sounded like fun to him, and like a good way to make more friends, which one could never have enough of, one story had caught his attention, one about this person called, the Seer. Who is the Seer?: Caboose: "The Seer is... a Powerful!... and Intelligent! Wizard, who goes on awesome Adventures!"

'Rhys Errol - Jour 737' "... je pense, Rhys s'est bourdonné en regardant les mots écrits devant lui, "Oh pourquoi je n'ai pas commencé le jour de mon départ," Il s'est crié en colère contre lui-même. "Jamais. Jour 737. C'est une belle journée et je marche toujours vers un nouveau village. J'ai rencontré un cheval ce matin, il a essayé de manger mon journal..." il a suivi en essayant de penser à quoi d'autre écrire. "J'ai besoin de chaussures neuves?" Il a dit à haute voix de débattre s'il fallait l'écrire ou non. "Je... je...", il s'arrêta et leva les yeux, s'élargit, mais se pencha rapidement jusqu'au journal pour écrire: "Je suis finalement arrivé à la nouvelle ville, c'est à l'intérieur de mes yeux et il ne m'a fallu que 2 jours pour arriver ici, à pied." Il a fini fier de lui-même. Rhys s'est arrêté et a placé son entrée dans son sac avant de continuer. Avant que Rhys le sache, il était finalement arrivé au nouveau village. "Crosshaven," dit Rhys et fonça avec son sac pour obtenir son entrée pour écrire le nom vers le bas. En le retournant dans son dos le plus rapidement mais doucement possible, il s'en alla plus loin dans le village à la recherche du trou d'arrosage le plus proche. Rhys a été déchiqueté, il avait voyagé pendant 2 jours et son approvisionnement en eau avait pris fin tôt ce matin. Rhys erra dans le petit village en sachant bientôt qu'il devrait trouver un endroit où s'arrêter, mais se sentant fatigué, il s'assit incapable de marcher un autre pas.

Name: Rhys Errol Age: 19 Gender: Male Bio: Rhy is a traveller, his hometown is unknown as he has never stayed for long in a town before. This was mostly due to his mother moving them from town to town, the reason to this day he still does not know. His mother often left him with strangers for periods of time and he has been raised by many people, although Rhys has not seen his temporary carers since his time with them as his mother would return and move him again to another town to be once again left to be raised by strangers. This cycle ended around his 17th birthday when his mother admitted she would not be returning soon and didn't want him to have to wait for her, she gave him the chance to stay where he pleased, travel back to any of his carers or go his own way and travel. Rhys chose to travel. Who is the Seer?: A travelling companion

La grande herbe ambre balayait alors que Niana traquait son chemin à travers le champ. Elle a atteint une clairière et a lentement poussé une tige hors du chemin et a regardé sur la route. Il y avait une charrette. Il y avait un fermier sur cette charrette, ainsi qu'un homme (ou une femme, Niana ne pouvait pas le dire). Ce n'est pas important. La seule chose qui comptait, c'était que cette personne était le voyant. Le Voyeur que les gens parlaient depuis des semaines sur la place de la ville quand Niana regardait. Le voyant qui l'aiderait à trouver ces hommes qui avaient tué sa famille. Elle grondait à la simple pensée d'eux, ses dents barraient. Elle regarda le voyant descendre de la charrette et se diriger vers la ville de Crosshaven. La fille sauvage s'est retirée et s'est assise au milieu de l'herbe. Elle ferma les yeux et écouta. Il y avait le bruissement de l'herbe avec le vent. Il y avait l'appel des oiseaux éloignés. Il y avait aussi le battement régulier du cœur de Niana. Mais... il y avait autre chose. Quelque chose de plus loin, comme le tapotage de chaussures sur la route de terre. Le voyant? Elle regarda de nouveau hors de l'herbe. Non, ce n'était pas le voyant. Elle s'est tournée et a fait face à l'inverse. Assez sûr qu'elle puisse faire la silhouette d'un homme. Elle est revenue dans l'herbe et a rampé dans sa direction, loin de la ville pour obtenir un meilleur regard sur lui. Quand elle s'était assez rapprochée de lui, il s'était assis. Niana a aussi remarqué qu'il embrayait un sac. Il semblait être à l'aise sur la route, alors elle a pensé qu'il n'était pas d'ici. Elle a embrayé son couteau à os et s'est demandé quoi faire.

Name: Niana Age: 18 Gender: Female Bio: Originally from Crosshaven, Niana and her parents went up to the mountains looking for her older sister who had disappeared a few days before. It turned out that bandits had robbed her and left her for dead on the snowy slope of a mountain. When the rest of the family arrived, the bandits struck again, murdering Niana's parents but sparing her and leaving 12 year old Niana in the nearby forest to her fate. Determined to survive, Niana has lived for the past five years in the forest, not sure of where she was or how to get home. She learned to be self-sufficient and to thrive in the wild of the mountain and forests bordering the fields of Crosshaven, and eventually in the last year found her way back to the wide-open plains surrounding Crosshaven. She has not formally reentered the town, but instead watches and observes daily life from the shadows and outskirts of the town, which is how she found out about the Seer. Who is the Seer?: Someone who can help her track down the men that killed her sister and parents. There's mine ^.^V

Argo avait passé une partie considérable de sa matinée de façon normale, parmi les collines et les forêts du périmètre de Crosshaven dans la poursuite de plantes, herbes, racines, et toute autre manière de remèdes psychiques. Son auto-formation dans les arts chamanistiques ont été considérablement progressistes. Dans le chemin de quelques mois, il avait commencé à expérimenter les effets de différentes plantes sur différentes maladies, qu'elles soient animales ou humaines, et avait pris à tenir un journal de ses découvertes. Aujourd'hui, la routine a continué à connaître un certain succès modéré. Certains jours, les herbes étaient basses au sol, cachées dans l'herbe et difficiles à trouver. Aujourd'hui, quelques échantillons choisis se sont levés du sous-sol de la forêt et se sont fait connaître; ils ont été recueillis rapidement. Sac rempli avec les articles nécessaires il n'était même pas mi-matin au moment du retour du chaman, se retirant dans ses quartiers près de la périphérie de la ville. Argo passa le reste de la matinée à prier et à observer les religions. Il avait appris les rites et les rituels appropriés en passant des voyageurs qui étaient plus que heureux de transmettre l'information en échange de réparer un bras cassé ou de guérir un animal malade. De petits morceaux de tabac brûlés dans un pot d'encens de l'autre côté de la pièce; c'était la seule feuille qu'il pouvait trouver autour de ces régions du monde. Après avoir pris sa retraite après son heure de culte, le chaman a décidé d'aller en ville pour vérifier la population. Comme leur principal guérisseur et l'icône religieuse Argo était devenu un membre important sinon vraiment éminent de la communauté. C'est au cours de son voyage en ville qu'il a pris connaissance de l'arrivée du voyant. Depuis des semaines, il y avait des rumeurs et des spéculations et toutes sortes de grands contes qui liaient les pouvoirs supposés, les capacités, la personnalité et l'apparence du mystique légendaire. On disait que ceux qui conversaient avec le voyant trouvèrent une grande fortune ou une terrible fortune, et c'est donc avec ces signes à l'esprit qu'Argo se dirigea vers le centre de Crosshaven dans l'intention de chercher le puissant mystique dehors.

Name: Argo of Crosshaven Age: 16 Gender: Male Bio: A villager turned aspiring healer. Argo dreams of one day becoming the shaman of his village (which currently has none), healing the sick and infirm and giving good counsel to his fellow villagers. Who is the Seer?: A person of great learning through which Argo will be able to attain his dream of becoming a great shaman and healer.

Et puis... et puis... Alors je lui ai dit : "Qu'est-ce que tu veux dire, on est tous à court de gin? J'ai passé la commande la semaine dernière! » La Taverne de Niirborhood était vivante avec des guffaws bruyants et copieux tandis que Lucas Niir frappait les quatre auditeurs avec sa ligne de frappe de derrière le bar. Lucas, riant avec eux, essuya une larme, et continua à laver un verre sale. "Je vais te dire quelque chose, Lucas, ces blagues ne vieilliront jamais!" Un des auditeurs a complimenté. Lucas vient de se serrer les coudes. "C'est mon travail de vous garder heureux et pleins. On dirait que j'ai fait un bon travail des deux." Outre les quatre hommes, il y avait environ deux autres assis à deux tables différentes. L'un a fait un sourire à la blague de Lucas, mais l'autre est resté stoïque, regardant attentivement la porte. "Hé, je peux vous apporter quelque chose de bien à l'arrière?" Les deux ont regardé en arrière et ont nié l'offre. "Tu as plus de bonnes blagues, Lucas? Tu sais que je viens ici juste pour eux!" Lucas s'est reculé et a placé le verre qu'il lavait sur l'étagère derrière lui à l'envers, à côté d'une rangée d'autres verres brillants propres. "Désolé les garçons, peut-être demain," a-t-il répondu. Cela fut rencontré avec un chœur de gémissements et de gémissements de son public, et il les agita comme des mouches. "Allez, allez. J'ai du travail. Et vous feriez mieux de travailler aussi. Ces boissons ne sont pas gratuites, pas à long terme."

Lucas Niir Age - 29 Gender - Male Bio - Lucas comes from a town a little ways down the road from Cross-Haven, where his parents own a locally famous tavern by the name of "Your Friendly Niirborhood Tavern." Their service is fantastic and incredibly quick, with their only being three people employed: Both of Lucas's parents, and a single cook. Their business was their pride and joy, and ever since childhood, Lucas was captured by the devotion his parents showed towards their business, and aspired to run the store some day. Lucas helped out around the tavern, and eventually was considered to be a fourth employee by everyone. He learned much from his parents, and eventually became skilled enough to open his own tavern in Cross-Haven by the same name. Business there, although a little slower due to the smaller size of the town, was well, and lived up to the reputation of his parents business in the town over. Lately, however, it had come to Lucas's attention that his father had come down with a terrible sickness. Due to this, his normally cheerful and eager-to-please attitude has waned a little bit. Who is the Seer? - Lucas has heard of him/her, but doesn't believe in The Seer. Upon mention, he usually will laugh and reply with: "Hell, we can all see, can't we? I don't see the big hoopla over it."

Comme le Voyeur avait marché le long de la route, il avait senti une présence à proximité; cependant, il ne semblait pas être hostile de sorte que le Voyeur a ignoré la présence et a continué vers le « cœur » de la ville. Le voyant pouvait sentir plusieurs picklings dans sa colonne vertébrale, pas blessants, plus comme des proddings doux. Le voyant savait ce que signifient ces signes, les destins amenaient une fois de plus des personnages plutôt intégraux à la scène pour une autre grande pièce. Contrairement à ce que disaient les récits, le voyant ne pouvait en fait pas contrôler les événements et l'information qui s'écoulaient dans son esprit de l'extérieur de sa connaissance. Le voyant a eu des visions pour être sûr, mais essayer de faire n'importe quel sens d'entre eux était une sorte d'interprétation d'un rêve, même si l'image était claire, le sens pourrait facilement échapper. Heureusement, le voyant a eu un peu d'expérience avec ce don étrange et a donc été assez bon pour comprendre les choses. Il semblait qu'il y aurait quelques histoires entrelacées dans ce village dont le voyant ferait partie. Le grand jeune homme déchargeant le chariot d'approvisionnement, le voyageur derrière lui, la présence que le voyant a sentie, déjà quelques-uns des morceaux commençaient à se manifester. Bien sûr, quelques pièces des puzzles étaient juste que, des pièces, le Seer aurait mis la photo ensemble finalement, maintenant il était grand temps de prendre un verre et de la nourriture. Le voyant cherchait l'endroit le plus proche pour obtenir un rafraîchissement, il semblait 'La Taverne Niirborhood' était l'endroit où aller. Le Seer se demandait indifféremment si le propriétaire avait délibérément décidé de mal orthographier le quartier pour le faire spécialement ou s'il pensait vraiment que c'était l'orthographe correcte mais que c'était un petit mystère qui ne méritait pas d'être découvert. Le voyant est entré dans l'établissement sans hésitation. Il y avait déjà un groupe rameux là-dedans, mais le Seer n'a pas été dérangé par un bruit. D'après une partie de la conversation dans la taverne, il semblait que la réputation du voyant avait précédé le mystique. Toujours comme d'habitude avec une telle rumeur, l'un des faits les plus importants au sujet du voyant était tout simplement ridicule, l'apparence du voyant. Les rumeurs habituelles étaient que le Voyeur était un vieil homme sage qui montrait la sagesse sur son visage ridé, était en fait une femme magnifique et bien faite, ou était en fait un guerrier puissant qui a utilisé ses puissantes magies pour jeter le gaspillage aux créatures de l'obscurité. Le voyant n'a jamais fait d'efforts pour corriger les rumeurs car il a permis au magicien de voyager dans la plupart des villes sans trop d'ennuis. Etre toujours en mouvement le Seer a essayé de ne pas rester trop longtemps dans un seul endroit à moins qu'il y ait une raison d'être et il semblait que Crosshaven pourrait juste être un tel endroit. La strate de Seer à travers le sol, presque ne faisant pas de bruit en marchant. Le Seer est arrivé au bar et a pris un contre-siège avec les hommes à proximité. "Gardez le plaisir de faire votre connaissance. Nous souhaitons acheter un repas et un verre de vin de miel si disponible." Le vin de miel un pas en avant de la plupart des boissons basses mais n'a pas tout à fait atteint les niveaux de sophistication de la classe supérieure, encore ce n'était pas une boisson un travailleur régulier pouvait se permettre très souvent. "Quant au repas, nous prendrons tout ce que vous recommandez aux voyageurs afin de goûter la saveur de Crosshaven." Même juste assis là et parlant le voyant a donné une aura distincte ou...différenciation. Ce n'était pas exactement bizarre juste différent, bien sûr les regards du voyant l'ont aidé à passer à plus d'une étrangeté avec cette façon particulière de parler. Le voyant était capable de rendre les gens curieux, fatigués, confus et agréables en même temps. C'était vraiment un exploit.

Name: Unknown Appearance: (Just ignore the 'tails') Age: Unknown Gender: Unknown Bio: The Seer is an enigma and seemingly unknowable. A wanderer who at times can see the future and seems to always have mysterious events surrounding The Seer's every journey. Who is The Seer? What is the Seer? Does even The Seer know its purpose or is The Seer merely tight-lipped? What is known about the Seer is wherever The Seer travels, change is soon to follow. Who is the Seer?: The Seer is The Seer, nothing more, nothing less.

Arman gémit, s'écroulant sur le siège à l'avant du wagon. Se frotter les yeux, essayer d'éliminer la vision lugubre, floue et floue. Silencieusement, elle a dit quelque chose, probablement un mot grossier, mais aucun bruit n'est sorti. Ce n'était vraiment pas juste qu'elle ait dû perdre sa voix MAINTENANT, quand ils étaient finalement dans un village après avoir voyagé sur les routes pendant si longtemps. Soupirant, elle a ouvert son dernier livre de légendes, qu'elle avait négocié pour quelques villages de retour. Le prix avait été raide, et elle se méfiait, ce n'était probablement qu'un autre livre rempli de contes de fées communs. Mais sa vie était ces histoires et donc, sachant même qu'elle était probablement escroquée, elle avait échangé trois lapins, un pigeon, et une poignée de pièces de monnaie. Les lapins qu'elle avait pris elle-même, et Ryan lui avait «lent» le pigeon pour qu'il s'attende à quelque chose de retour. C'était son père, l'homme qui l'avait ramassée il y a toutes ces années, et elle avait pris son nom, comme c'était le cas dans certaines régions, Ryanson, ou le fils de Ryan, même si elle n'était ni son fils ni un garçon. Ryan lui-même conduisait le chariot, sifflant joyeusement, à un air dans sa tête. Frowning Arman a drone le son, enterrer ses inquiétudes sur sa voix, et a commencé à lire à partir de son livre. Avez-vous entendu? Avez-vous entendu? Le voyant est là! Le voyant est là! Le voyant apporte des miracles! Le voyant apporte la mort! Arman soupirait encore, ce poème. Il n'y avait rien de mal avec le poème, en fait elle l'aimait, plus que la plupart de ses histoires, mais comme pour la plupart des choses, trop de quelque chose vous conduit à ne plus jamais vouloir le rencontrer. C'était la première chose qu'elle avait bien lu, quand elle apprenait à lire, en piquant ensemble les mots hâtivement brouillés sur leur morceau de papier rongé. Quand elle avait finalement réussi à le lire, à le lire tout, elle passait alors un peu de temps chaque jour à le relire, prouvant à elle-même qu'elle pouvait, que ce n'était pas un rêve. En parlant de rêves, Arman se réveilla, grinçant à l'endroit douloureux où Ryan avait creusé dans son coude. Elle lui a prononcé une malédiction, mais elle a toujours trouvé qu'elle ne pouvait pas parler. Elle a découvert qu'ils étaient au bord de la ville. Ryan a arrêté le cheval, et Arman a pu entendre le creak tandis que les deux autres wagons derrière eux s'arrêtaient aussi. "Rencontrez-vous ici, ce soir, ouais?" Ryan s'en est pris aux quatre autres alors qu'il s'est tiré du wagon, souriant à Arman. Est-ce que nous allons faire des affaires, et voir s'il y a quelqu'un qui peut aider avec votre voix?

Name: Arman Ryanson Age: 16 Gender: Female, but looks male. Bio: Arman grew up traveling, village to village, never settling anywhere. She was the story keeper for her troupe, telling stories for her keep. They are currently stopping by in Crosshaven for a little while, before they plan to move on. Arman hides the fact that she is a girl. When she was little she was picked up from the roadside and has been with the travelers since then. Who is the Seer?: Another traveler, someone, she respects if ‘he’ exists. She has heard of ‘him’ in legends and one of the first stories she read was a piece of poetry about ‘him’. She would also like, if possible to be the one to record the seer’s story, and tell it to others. (But for that matter she quite likes telling anyone’s stories, if they will let her.)

Lucas a levé les yeux de son public et a souri au jeune... Oh mon garçon, je suis là maintenant, Lucas a pensé à lui-même car il ne pouvait pas deviner exactement quel sexe ce nouveau venu était. Elle -ou il- avait de longs cheveux noirs attachés dans une queue de cheval soignée, et à première vue le, cela ferait toute personne saine d'esprit croire que ce gars pourrait être une femme. Mais son visage était si rigide et sûr, sans sourire et droit que cette patronne aurait pu être un homme. Et bien sûr, les hommes sans queue de cheval n'étaient pas totalement inconnus. L'autre jour, Lucas avait un cône d'homme sous l'occupation d'un nom étranger. Il a dit qu'il était un sam-ooh-quelque chose... ou peut-être un rai-ooh-quelque chose? Oh, pour l'enfer avec ça, Lucas a pensé. Après quelques secondes de frais de recherche d'un pronom unisexuel pour son client, et une courte seconde d'hésitation, Lucas Niir sourit et s'inclina. "Je ne pense pas que quelqu'un ait demandé du vin de miel depuis un certain temps, étranger. Je vais voir si j'en ai en stock. Et au cas où tu n'y serais jamais entrée, c'est Lucas Niir. A votre service, étranger." Il a salué le mystérieux homme et s'est retourné pour examiner ses étagères d'alcool, à la recherche de la boisson spécifiée. Il a certainement stocké du vin de miel, mais seulement près des saisons de festival. Les gens qui sont entrés dans la taverne autour de ces parties favorisaient généralement une boisson plus "homme"."Voyons... Hmmm... Ah, nous y voilà!" Lucas a sorti une bouteille de vin de miel non ouvert, prêt à servir. Il a commencé à l'ouvrir immédiatement d'une main, cherchant derrière lui une bouteille avec son autre. "Vous avez de la chance. C'est une de mes dernières bouteilles." Alors qu'il versait, il pensait à ce qu'il pouvait faire exactement pour son client. Ils avaient un menu limité à la Taverne de Niirborhood ; d'habitude le chef Lucas a fait tout ce qu'il pouvait faire, mais en raison de sa grande compétence dans la cuisine, ce n'était généralement pas plainte. "Hé, chef!" Il a appelé à une porte à sa droite qui a conduit à une cuisine. "Pensez que vous pouvez préparer un repas pour moi?" Avec cela, il mit le verre de vin rempli de vin d'or devant l'étranger. "Excusez-moi, mais vous êtes assez vieux pour boire, n'est-ce pas?" Avec un oui, il lâchait le verre pour le plaisir du client. -- Alors, quel est votre nom, étranger?

Lucas Niir Age - 29 Gender - Male Bio - Lucas comes from a town a little ways down the road from Cross-Haven, where his parents own a locally famous tavern by the name of "Your Friendly Niirborhood Tavern." Their service is fantastic and incredibly quick, with their only being three people employed: Both of Lucas's parents, and a single cook. Their business was their pride and joy, and ever since childhood, Lucas was captured by the devotion his parents showed towards their business, and aspired to run the store some day. Lucas helped out around the tavern, and eventually was considered to be a fourth employee by everyone. He learned much from his parents, and eventually became skilled enough to open his own tavern in Cross-Haven by the same name. Business there, although a little slower due to the smaller size of the town, was well, and lived up to the reputation of his parents business in the town over. Lately, however, it had come to Lucas's attention that his father had come down with a terrible sickness. Due to this, his normally cheerful and eager-to-please attitude has waned a little bit. Who is the Seer? - Lucas has heard of him/her, but doesn't believe in The Seer. Upon mention, he usually will laugh and reply with: "Hell, we can all see, can't we? I don't see the big hoopla over it."

Argo a fait son chemin rapidement vers le centre-ville, s'arrêtant pour parler et converser avec quelques personnes le long du chemin. Le voyant, le voyant! Elle est dans la taverne! C'est pas vrai! C'était vraiment une fille! Argo n'a pas attendu d'autres rumeurs, au lieu de cela, il est allé à sa destination avec toute la vitesse voulue. En s'approchant du devant de l'établissement, le chaman fit signe de saluer quelques clients locaux. Bien qu'il habitât à la périphérie de la ville, sa profession l'avait fait connaître et, lorsqu'il n'avait pas le temps de composer ses propres soupers, il vint souvent à la Taverne de Niirborhood pour se faire remplir. Aujourd'hui cependant, il avait une autre sorte d'objectif et c'est donc avec cet enthousiasme qu'Argo a traversé l'entrée. Presque immédiatement, le chaman était capable de ramasser la sauge. Les. C'est ce que j'ai dit. C'est ce que j'ai dit. personne, car il ne pouvait certainement pas dire si c'était un homme ou une femme, a libéré une certaine aura qui semblait accrocher autour d'eux comme des nuages de pluie aux montagnes. Argo, plus en contact avec le surnaturel que la plupart, pouvait presque visualiser cette aura et pour la première fois depuis qu'il avait entendu parler du voyant, il a commencé à avoir ses doutes. Pourtant, si ce qui a été dit au sujet du voyant était vrai que sa prudence a été ignorée. Alors qu'il s'approchait d'Argo, il aperçut aussi le maître de la taverne, Lucas Niir. Argo n'était pas tout à fait ami avec l'homme bien qu'ils étaient certainement des connaissances. Ayant été un mécène de la taverne pendant un certain temps Argo était sûr que Lucas était également au courant de ses favoris habituels en ce qui concerne la nourriture ou la boisson, c'est-à-dire que Argo mangeait des aliments assez simples et préférait une alternative à boire de l'alcool chaque fois qu'il était disponible. Essayant de son mieux de se contenir, le chaman a dressé un siège à côté du voyant, presque à une perte pour où commencer. Il était sûr que son hésitation était palpable.

Name: Argo of Crosshaven Age: 16 Gender: Male Bio: A villager turned aspiring healer. Argo dreams of one day becoming the shaman of his village (which currently has none), healing the sick and infirm and giving good counsel to his fellow villagers. Who is the Seer?: A person of great learning through which Argo will be able to attain his dream of becoming a great shaman and healer.

Le voyant, le voyant! Elle est dans la taverne en ce moment, Rhys a eu des nouvelles des habitants et a vu une personne qu'il dirigeait. Rhys a regardé la direction dans laquelle Argo a couru. -- Tarverne? Rhys m'a dit qu'il voulait se mettre aux pieds. En utilisant toute sa force, il a réussi à se lever et a commencé à trébucher sa façon de faire de la taverne. Sa tête tournait par manque de nourriture et de boisson, mais sa volonté était forte et il était déterminé à aller là-bas. Après ce qui semblait être une éternité, Rhys a fait en sorte que 'La Taverne Niirborhood' se sente très réanimée. Il a trébuché à travers les portes et a réussi à se rendre au comptoir. Respirant lourdement, il s'appuya contre le comptoir pour se stabiliser, une fois qu'il commença à respirer normalement, il ouvrit son sac et rummaga autour pour son argent. Il regarda avec désespoir le Barkeep qui servait un autre client. Rhys ressemblait à un enfant perdu, tout ce qu'il pouvait se permettre était de l'eau et peut-être un peu de pain, s'il avait de la chance. Le dernier village qu'il a visité avait peu de travail pour lui à faire, de sorte que l'argent qu'il a gagné ne le dura pas très longtemps, il avait espéré que la prochaine place qu'il a visitée aurait plus d'opportunités; sans argent Rhys ne pouvait pas voyager.

Name: Rhys Errol Age: 19 Gender: Male Bio: Rhy is a traveller, his hometown is unknown as he has never stayed for long in a town before. This was mostly due to his mother moving them from town to town, the reason to this day he still does not know. His mother often left him with strangers for periods of time and he has been raised by many people, although Rhys has not seen his temporary carers since his time with them as his mother would return and move him again to another town to be once again left to be raised by strangers. This cycle ended around his 17th birthday when his mother admitted she would not be returning soon and didn't want him to have to wait for her, she gave him the chance to stay where he pleased, travel back to any of his carers or go his own way and travel. Rhys chose to travel. Who is the Seer?: A travelling companion

Crier a pris Niana hors de garde. Depuis que le Seer était arrivé dans la ville proprement dite, il y avait une agitation. L'homme qu'elle avait observé s'était même levé de sa rêverie endormie et s'était précipité vers la taverne. Peut-être qu'il était temps que la fille fasse une apparition? Niana luttait avec la pensée, un noeud poussant dans la fosse de son estomac. Quelqu'un se souviendrait d'elle? Est-ce que quelqu'un s'en soucie? Elle secoua la tête et gronda à l'herbe. Elle avait une mission. C'était pour sa famille. Elle devait le faire. Clacting le couteau à os autour de son cou pour bonne chance, Niana s'accroupit sur les quatre et rampait à nouveau vers la ville. Elle était proche maintenant. Eh bien, plus proche qu'elle ne l'avait été. Plus près mais pas moins nerveux. Le sentiment était curieux pour elle; des années de vie dans la nature l'avaient légèrement désinhibée quand il s'agissait de questions de toutes sortes. Ses vêtements étaient évidents, et ses émotions étaient très proches. Niana avait tout sauf oublié ce que la nervosité avait ressenti, avec une variété d'autres, plus d'émotions humaines. Elle a pris une profonde respiration et est sortie de l'herbe et sur la route de terre. Elle se tenait parfaitement immobile, le vent doux soufflant ses cheveux de platine alors qu'elle regardait la taverne. Finalement elle a commencé à marcher vers elle et finalement elle a atteint l'entrée. La Taverne Niirborhood. C'est ce que le panneau lisait. Ou du moins ce que Niana pensait que ça disait. Cela faisait un moment qu'elle n'avait pas lu, donc elle était peut-être un peu rouillée. Frappant la dague osseuse autour de son cou une dernière fois pour le confort, la fille férale est finalement entrée dans la taverne aussi calme que possible. Elle a immédiatement été soufflée de diverses odeurs piquantes et de bruits forts. Elle a fait un clin d'oeil et a essayé de se coincer dans un coin. Elle était habituée à l'ambiance de la forêt, et aux odeurs naturelles fraîches de la vie luxuriante qui y vivait. C'était presque excessif. La proximité des gens, le rugissement des rires et des bavardages et l'odeur d'une charge d'humains s'est effondrée dans un petit espace fait que Niana veut pleurer.

Name: Niana Age: 18 Gender: Female Bio: Originally from Crosshaven, Niana and her parents went up to the mountains looking for her older sister who had disappeared a few days before. It turned out that bandits had robbed her and left her for dead on the snowy slope of a mountain. When the rest of the family arrived, the bandits struck again, murdering Niana's parents but sparing her and leaving 12 year old Niana in the nearby forest to her fate. Determined to survive, Niana has lived for the past five years in the forest, not sure of where she was or how to get home. She learned to be self-sufficient and to thrive in the wild of the mountain and forests bordering the fields of Crosshaven, and eventually in the last year found her way back to the wide-open plains surrounding Crosshaven. She has not formally reentered the town, but instead watches and observes daily life from the shadows and outskirts of the town, which is how she found out about the Seer. Who is the Seer?: Someone who can help her track down the men that killed her sister and parents. There's mine ^.^V

Alors que les gens savaient que le Seer était en fait en ville, il y avait encore une confusion générale sur qui exactement était le Seer car il y avait plus que quelques voyageurs sur la route. Bien sûr, il y avait les malins, comme le chaman un peu cinglé qui venait de s'asseoir à côté de ce qu'il pensait probablement être quelqu'un semblable à l'homme sur la colline proverbiale pour chaman et sorciers. C'était plutôt ennuyeux vraiment, mais le Seer s'est rendu compte que celui-ci avait un rôle à jouer dans l'histoire à portée de main. Le voyant a senti quelques autres présences qui joueraient un rôle dans la tapisserie de formation, les fils étaient là maintenant il était temps de les cordes ensemble et ensuite décider quel chemin de ramification à prendre. "Notre nom est de peu d'importance, j'ai peur, mais je peux vous assurer que mon âge est au-delà du moins nécessaire pour un verre que l'esprit." Le voyant a dit, parlant au barman. "Maintenant ce jeune homme ici," le Seer a hurlé dans la direction d'Argo, " va payer pour mon repas, à part le vin de miel bien sûr, je l'ai prévu". Le voyant était bien sûr couché par les dents et n'avait pas vu si le garçon allait payer pour son repas à cause de ses pouvoirs, cela s'appelait simplement fabriquer votre propre avenir. Toujours d'une certaine manière le Seer permettait à Argo de se sentir plus à l'aise dans la conversation, puisque le garçon était silencieux comme une souris morte. Le voyant a ignoré la personne qui venait d'entrer pour s'appuyer sur le comptoir pour le moment, une question plus pressante était à portée de main. L'aura que le voyant avait remarquée auparavant sur la route était maintenant dans l'établissement et avait un côté sauvage à lui, différent du côté « sauvage » d'un patron ivre. Il était tout à fait trop facile de suivre la source à une jeune femme plutôt sauvage qui était entièrement inutilisée à la civilisation il semblait, non que l'on considérerait Crosshaven exactement une source énorme de civilisation. Le voyant a fermé les yeux sur elle et a mouvementé d'yeux seulement, cela et un regard rempli d'autorité malgré l'expression assez vide du voyant. Le voyant avait des pouvoirs de persuasion au-delà des hommes normaux, bien qu'en réalité ce n'était qu'un simple tour de présence que peu avaient maîtrisé, le message n'avait pas besoin d'être parlé pour être compris bien que le voyant ait décidé de parler de toute façon. "Venez ici enfant, nous avons des affaires à discuter." Quelques mécènes se tournèrent curieusement les yeux du voyant vers Niana, méfiant de ce qu'elle était ou de ce qui se passait. La plupart du temps, le voyant ne voulait pas que Niana s'éloigne après avoir obtenu une bouffée d'une civilisation pas si grande, il serait préférable de comprendre où cette pièce s'insère dans la prochaine tapisserie.

Name: Unknown Appearance: (Just ignore the 'tails') Age: Unknown Gender: Unknown Bio: The Seer is an enigma and seemingly unknowable. A wanderer who at times can see the future and seems to always have mysterious events surrounding The Seer's every journey. Who is The Seer? What is the Seer? Does even The Seer know its purpose or is The Seer merely tight-lipped? What is known about the Seer is wherever The Seer travels, change is soon to follow. Who is the Seer?: The Seer is The Seer, nothing more, nothing less.

Arman s'est introduit dans la ville aux côtés de Ryan, en direction de la taverne locale. Il n'y avait pas de meilleur endroit pour vendre des herbes et des épices, et aussi le meilleur endroit pour demander le guérisseur de la ville. La Taverne Niirborhood. Eh bien, ils ne viennent pas de mon quartier. » Ryan a plaisanté en poussant à travers la porte, suivi de près par un oeil tournant Arman. En rentrant à l'intérieur, elle bâillonnait. Ce n'était pas comme si l'odeur était nouvelle pour elle, mais après avoir été sur la route pendant si longtemps, elle s'était habituée à l'air pur. Mais elle s'ajuste, comme elle l'a toujours fait. Elle a suivi Ryan jusqu'au bar, où il s'est emparé d'un siège de secours, et elle s'est tenue derrière son épaule, comme d'habitude, attendant qu'il se rende à un siège à côté de lui, laissant un petit espace entre elle et une paire d'autres quelques tabourets. Quand le barman les aura finalement rejoints, Ryan a fait signe à l'homme, bonjour monsieur, peut-on prendre un verre? A deux ales, s'il vous plaît.Arman a grondé silencieusement et l'a frappé autour de la tête, Fine, très bien, une ale et,... avez-vous du lait? Aussi, quand vous n'êtes pas occupé, je vends des herbes et des épices, avec quelques chances intéressantes et des fins. Seriez-vous intéressé? Arman écoutait chaque conversation, au moins tous ceux qu'elle entendait, prêtant attention, cherchant une histoire, des choses intéressantes comme ça. Quand le, était-ce un garçon ou une fille?, appelé de l'autre côté de la taverne à une fille sauvage qui regardait trainer près de l'entrée, elle a pivoté la tête, regardant tout ce qu'elle pouvait. Prêtant autant d'attention que son moi fatigué le pouvait.

Name: Arman Ryanson Age: 16 Gender: Female, but looks male. Bio: Arman grew up traveling, village to village, never settling anywhere. She was the story keeper for her troupe, telling stories for her keep. They are currently stopping by in Crosshaven for a little while, before they plan to move on. Arman hides the fact that she is a girl. When she was little she was picked up from the roadside and has been with the travelers since then. Who is the Seer?: Another traveler, someone, she respects if ‘he’ exists. She has heard of ‘him’ in legends and one of the first stories she read was a piece of poetry about ‘him’. She would also like, if possible to be the one to record the seer’s story, and tell it to others. (But for that matter she quite likes telling anyone’s stories, if they will let her.)

Lucas fixa les yeux larges tandis que les clients versaient dans sa taverne. Tout d'abord, Argo a gracié l'établissement de sa présence, un jeune homme particulier qui étudiait la médecine ou quelque chose d'autre. Puis, de plus en plus de gens sont venus juste après : environ cinq autres personnes au total, certaines de la ville, une qui ressemblait à un voyageur, et une... Qu'est-ce que cette fille pense qu'elle porte? Pour l'amour de Dieu, elle est dans un endroit public! Courant une main dans ses cheveux noirs, Lucas a commencé à essayer de servir chacun de ses nouveaux clients. Tout d'abord, le genre-bent qui a demandé le vin de miel. L'individu a prétendu qu'Argo paierait pour le repas, ce qui était un peu étrange puisqu'il venait d'entrer... "Argo!" Il a crié à travers la taverne bruyante. "Hé, tu paies pour le repas de ce type?" Lucas s'est suicidé mentalement alors qu'il rejetait un titre spécifique au genre, mais il l'a secouée, en pensant que peut-être le "garçon" s'inscrirait aussi comme unisexuel. Lucas regarda alors vers le voyageur qu'il n'avait jamais vu en ville. Il avait l'air un peu perdu, comme un enfant dans un marché bondé. En fait, cela aurait pu être la vérité, en venir à y penser, cela aurait pu être le cas. Lucas l'a ignoré pour le moment, et deux autres personnes sont entrées dans le bar : deux autres voyageurs dont il n'avait jamais vu. Avant qu'il n'arrive à eux, il était temps de s'adresser à la fille habilement habillée. Il a commencé à marcher vers elle, mais s'est arrêté comme le client sans sexe l'a appelé à elle. Il a rapidement arrêté l'individu avant de se lever. "Uhm, excusez-moi, vous avez l'air de vous connaître", a-t-il dit à la femme. "Pourrais-tu lui dire de se couvrir un peu plus correctement? C'est une taverne, pas un bordel." Déjà il a commencé à voir des habitués se branler sur la fille, et il a roulé ses yeux. Ensuite, quelques autres voyageurs qu'il n'avait pas vus avant d'aller à la taverne. Ils se sont approchés du bar et ont pris place. Ils ont commandé deux ales à l'origine, mais l'un a frappé l'autre à l'arrière de la tête et a changé son ordre de lait. "D'accord, tout de suite, vous deux." Il a commencé à remplir une tasse de bière et une tasse de lait, en écoutant l'un lui donner une offre intéressante. Apparemment, ces deux étrangers étaient des vendeurs, lui offrant des herbes et des épices. "Bien, je serais heureux d'acheter de vous deux beau gentleman. Je devrais avoir beaucoup d'argent à acheter après aujourd'hui," Lucas a accepté, gesticulant à la foule. Il entendit un clocher à droite de lui, et une petite assiette était assise sur le bar avec un petit sandwich et un bol de soupe aux légumes. Ah, c'est pour... il a ramassé l'assiette et l'a posée là où M. Nameless était assis avant qu'elle ne se lève. "Un repas pour celui qui l'a commandé! Tu ne m'as pas donné ton nom!" Il a pointé vers ceux qui étaient assis autour du siège sans nom. "Si vous touchez son repas, vous perdrez un doigt."

Lucas Niir Age - 29 Gender - Male Bio - Lucas comes from a town a little ways down the road from Cross-Haven, where his parents own a locally famous tavern by the name of "Your Friendly Niirborhood Tavern." Their service is fantastic and incredibly quick, with their only being three people employed: Both of Lucas's parents, and a single cook. Their business was their pride and joy, and ever since childhood, Lucas was captured by the devotion his parents showed towards their business, and aspired to run the store some day. Lucas helped out around the tavern, and eventually was considered to be a fourth employee by everyone. He learned much from his parents, and eventually became skilled enough to open his own tavern in Cross-Haven by the same name. Business there, although a little slower due to the smaller size of the town, was well, and lived up to the reputation of his parents business in the town over. Lately, however, it had come to Lucas's attention that his father had come down with a terrible sickness. Due to this, his normally cheerful and eager-to-please attitude has waned a little bit. Who is the Seer? - Lucas has heard of him/her, but doesn't believe in The Seer. Upon mention, he usually will laugh and reply with: "Hell, we can all see, can't we? I don't see the big hoopla over it."

Niana pouvait sentir les yeux sur elle. Elle pouvait sentir le regard de beaucoup de mécènes qui buvaient dans son visage immodest. Elle avait espéré se fondre dans, mais se fondre clairement dans une forêt et se fondre dans les humains était une bête tout à fait différente. Elle s'est pressée contre le mur lointain, comme un chat d'angle qui espérait glisser à travers le bois et sortir en liberté. Pas de chance pour Niana. Quelqu'un l'a passée devant et elle s'est sentie et s'est ivre à la main. C'était dégradant. Comment les gens ont-ils vécu comme ça? Elle avait l'impression de s'être jetée dans une cage. Sa main a senti son couteau à os et elle s'est souvenue de son but. Le voyant. Alors que la pensée traversait l'esprit de Niana, elle entendit une voix l'appeler de l'autre côté de la taverne. Qu'est-ce que... Les yeux du voyant se fermaient sur la sienne et elle se sentait bizarrement calme. Pas tout à fait à l'aise (elle n'a jamais senti qu'elle serait dans cet endroit) mais son esprit était au moins calme pour le moment. Après un moment de délibération, Niana s'est poussée du mur et a traversé la taverne bondée jusqu'à ce qu'elle soit enfin face à face avec le Seer.

Name: Niana Age: 18 Gender: Female Bio: Originally from Crosshaven, Niana and her parents went up to the mountains looking for her older sister who had disappeared a few days before. It turned out that bandits had robbed her and left her for dead on the snowy slope of a mountain. When the rest of the family arrived, the bandits struck again, murdering Niana's parents but sparing her and leaving 12 year old Niana in the nearby forest to her fate. Determined to survive, Niana has lived for the past five years in the forest, not sure of where she was or how to get home. She learned to be self-sufficient and to thrive in the wild of the mountain and forests bordering the fields of Crosshaven, and eventually in the last year found her way back to the wide-open plains surrounding Crosshaven. She has not formally reentered the town, but instead watches and observes daily life from the shadows and outskirts of the town, which is how she found out about the Seer. Who is the Seer?: Someone who can help her track down the men that killed her sister and parents. There's mine ^.^V

Ce n'est même pas une minute après l'entrée du chaman que la taverne a repris son activité d'une marge significative. La légère grognement et le rire doux qui avaient rempli la place auparavant a été remplacé par une variante beaucoup plus forte et plus joyeuse. Le jour s'arrêtait et plus de gens venaient, bien que ce qui a vraiment surpris le chaman était la façon dont l'occupation de la taverne semblait presque doubler en quelques secondes. Après tout, n'a - t - on pas dit que là où le voyant voyageait, beaucoup étaient attirés par derrière? C'était Lucas, la voix de l'entretien, la voix finalement cassé Argo de son vénéré, lui rappelant d'autres choses à portée de main qui nécessitaient son attention. "Hé, tu paies pour le repas de ce type?" Le chaman a hurlé dans l'affirmative, encore un peu de relâche dans la mâchoire. Il regarda en silence tandis que le voyant continua à converser avec quelques autres avant de finalement déposer sa demande. "Great seer," Le chaman a pris un ton plutôt vénérant, comme s'il parlait à quelqu'un qui était de loin son supérieur, "Je suis un apprenti dans les arts chamanistiques, bien que vous le saviez probablement. Je suis venu demander conseil et formation. Je veux savoir tout ce que vous pouvez m'apprendre." Quand la réponse du voyant n'était pas immédiatement venue Argo s'est permis au moins de faire le bilan des nouveaux membres du bar, en particulier la femme grossièrement habillée près de l'arrière de la pièce. Il l'a reconnue de son travail dans les champs et avec des herbes, souvent pris des aperçus. Pourtant, il n'avait pas vraiment pris la peine de lui donner beaucoup d'intérêt jusqu'à maintenant. Elle n'était pas à sa place? Je revois à nouveau au voyant pour voir s'ils accepteraient sa demande que le chaman retrouve, malheureusement, qu'il n'ait pas parlé. Supposons qu'il s'intéressait davantage à son sandwich et à son vin de miel en ce moment. Pourtant, cela donnerait à Argo une chance de contrôler les dégâts, surtout après la dernière demande de Lucas de lui dire de se couvrir un peu plus correctement? Le chaman en train de s'entraîner s'est approché de la femelle légèrement vêtue, enlevant son poncho léger qu'il lui a ensuite offert. "Ce serait probablement mieux de vous couvrir, mademoiselle."

Name: Argo of Crosshaven Age: 16 Gender: Male Bio: A villager turned aspiring healer. Argo dreams of one day becoming the shaman of his village (which currently has none), healing the sick and infirm and giving good counsel to his fellow villagers. Who is the Seer?: A person of great learning through which Argo will be able to attain his dream of becoming a great shaman and healer.

Le Seer avait attiré l'attention du sauvage et bientôt ils étaient face à face. Son apparence n'a pas ennuyé le voyant dans le moindre, mais beaucoup d'autres ont été tout à fait pris à dos par son apparence, même l'appelant une « pute ». Le voyant avait maintenant quelques choses à jongler: la nourriture, ceux autour du voyant, et bien sûr le vin de miel. Le Seer garda Niana dans ce regard mystique et parvint d'une manière ou d'une autre à se procurer un demi-sandwich et un verre de vin de miel. Le Seer avait aussi un fan adorant dans le prochain siège qui a décidé d'aller de l'avant une offre la fille un poncho pour elle-même. La pauvre fille avait l'air en bonne santé, mais elle n'était pas en quelque sorte dans cet environnement, encore, le Seer appréciait l'aide du côté. L'entretien était un peu embrouillé à son apparence, mais il n'aurait pas de plaintes après ce que le Seer a fait ensuite. Le Seer a pris le poncho des mains du jeune chaman et a immédiatement mis le vêtement sur elle. "Bien jeune, j'ai au moins une idée de la raison pour laquelle vous êtes ici. Pour l'instant, ne quittez pas mon côté avant d'avoir entendu l'histoire. » Le Seer commandait très bien, en allant aux affaires. "Quant à vous jeune chaman," Le Voyeur a finalement reconnu le jeune homme qui voulait apprendre tous les secrets que le Voyeur avait, "gardez vos yeux et vos oreilles ouverts. Observez et vous apprendrez peut-être quelque chose." Le voyant a ensuite pris une petite pause pour descendre de la nourriture et boire. "Comme je dîne actuellement par tous les moyens expliquer votre demande en entier. En venant à nous, vous avez entrelacé le fil de votre vie avec plusieurs autres dans cette pièce pendant une période. Maintenant parle." Il était impossible pour Niana de reculer maintenant, son destin était entrelacé avec celui du Seer depuis qu'elle est entrée dans la Taverne. Presque comme une après-pensée le Seer a atteint à l'intérieur de ses vêtements et a produit la pièce nécessaire pour la boisson et les a placés sur le comptoir.

Name: Unknown Appearance: (Just ignore the 'tails') Age: Unknown Gender: Unknown Bio: The Seer is an enigma and seemingly unknowable. A wanderer who at times can see the future and seems to always have mysterious events surrounding The Seer's every journey. Who is The Seer? What is the Seer? Does even The Seer know its purpose or is The Seer merely tight-lipped? What is known about the Seer is wherever The Seer travels, change is soon to follow. Who is the Seer?: The Seer is The Seer, nothing more, nothing less.

Quand ils ont reçu leurs boissons, Ryan a placé quelques pièces sur le bar. Il m'a traité de gentleman, de gentleman! Arman snigged silencieusement à Ryan, Oh que c'est un bon, vous êtes un gentleman, vous! C'était trop drôle, messieurs? Oh, et elle s'est de nouveau effondrée dans un rire silencieux, avec Ryan qui lui a doucement aiguisé l'oreille, pour qu'elle s'arrête. Se réunissant, Arman a arrêté de rire et a regardé la scène plus loin le long du bar jouer devant elle. Bon matériel pour une histoire s'il y en avait un. La fille sauvage, avec de très petits vêtements, était intéressante pour un début, et la personne qui lui avait appelé, Arman avait depuis longtemps renoncé à essayer de décider d'un sexe, était certainement une pièce. Le garçon qui a offert le manteau comme chose valait aussi la peine d'être mentionné. Fondamentalement, Arman a trouvé toute la situation intéressante. Elle a pris une gorgée de lait et l'a glissé. Pour l'instant, elle était contente de regarder. Mais plus tard, peut-être qu'elle pourrait, peut-être, sauter dedans.

Name: Arman Ryanson Age: 16 Gender: Female, but looks male. Bio: Arman grew up traveling, village to village, never settling anywhere. She was the story keeper for her troupe, telling stories for her keep. They are currently stopping by in Crosshaven for a little while, before they plan to move on. Arman hides the fact that she is a girl. When she was little she was picked up from the roadside and has been with the travelers since then. Who is the Seer?: Another traveler, someone, she respects if ‘he’ exists. She has heard of ‘him’ in legends and one of the first stories she read was a piece of poetry about ‘him’. She would also like, if possible to be the one to record the seer’s story, and tell it to others. (But for that matter she quite likes telling anyone’s stories, if they will let her.)

J'en ai marre!* des attelles ont été envoyées en vol alors que les deux morceaux de bois étaient encombrés au sol. Frappant la hache sur son épaule avec un petit grognement, Fredrick essuya son front de l'autre main, prenant un bref moment pour fouiner à travers la lumière rude aux champs de blé d'or doucement balançant dans la brise. Il a soupiré pendant que les vents doux l'ont lavé, refroidissant son corps du travail qu'il faisait derrière la maison. "Fredrick!? Fredrick, mon cher garçon!" une voix familière a appelé. Samuel Louis le fermier apparut autour du côté de la maison, se déplaçant assez rapidement pour un homme avec un boiteux fixe, son visage étriqué était rouge vif, que Fredrick ne pouvait que supposer n'était pas du travail dur dehors dans les champs, avec la puanteur de whisky qui pendait autour de lui. "Voilà, mon garçon. J'ai des nouvelles qui pourraient vous intéresser, ça vous intéresse de l'entendre? » Il demanda avec un sourire denté, malgré son apparence usée et son habitude de boire ses économies, Samuel était un homme bon et un personnage trompeur et robuste. "Je sais que vous avez un penchant pour le bavardage, donc j'ai peur d'entendre cette nouvelle peu importe." Fredrick répliqua en plaisantant en balançant la hache dans la souche avec de la thump copieuse, où il avait coupé du bois cet après-midi. Les moustaches sur le visage de Samuel semblaient frémir à l'idée que son compagnon ne s'occupait pas de son récit, qu'il avait si altruistement arrêté son rituel du soir pour livrer. "Donc je suppose que vous ne vous souciez pas qu'il y ait une rumeur que le voyant légendaire est en ville." Il a dit, en essayant de cacher un sourire alors qu'il attendait la réception des jeunes garçons aux nouvelles. Le visage de Fredrick s'est fixé avec un regard déterminé alors qu'il se déplaçait immédiatement avec un but, jetant rapidement les deux morceaux de bois dans la pile, avant de se précipiter vers l'arrière du wagon où il a placé son manteau et son épée pendant qu'il travaillait. "Pardonne-moi Samuel, j'aurai besoin d'emprunter Kiligan si je veux voir si cette rumeur est vraie." Il a dit, pas vraiment attendre la confirmation de Sam. Le vieil homme clignait de surprise alors que le garçon l'a envahi dans l'écurie, avant d'émerger des moments plus tard, menant son vieux gel gris vers l'avant de la maison. "N-maintenant, tenez juste une seconde, je-je mince." Il a étouffé, mais a été coupé court quand Fredrick a voûté dans la selle et lui a jeté un petit sac en cuir. "Qu'il y a pour Killigan, j'espère que ça suffit." Il dit, comme l'ancien fermier, a regardé la lumière dorée scintilleant du sac. C'était la somme de sa fortune qui avait survécu au voyage depuis sa terre natale, il avait espéré l'utiliser pour acheter le passage avec quelques marchands itinérants, mais ceux qui passaient par la petite ville ne savaient rien du nom qu'il leur avait donné, il espérait maintenant que cela aiderait le vieux fermier à prendre sa retraite pour de bon. Des pensées sauvages et des souvenirs errants tournèrent autour de sa tête 'Le voyant, un être qui apparut à la fois dans ses peuples et dans ces pays, des histoires de yore, ici, à Crosshaven?' Fredrick n'a qu'à savoir qu'il a poussé ses talons dans Kiligan, et il a couru vers la ville.

Name: Fredrick Riel Appearance: Age: 19 Gender: Male Lucas was born far to the west, in a land where the success of a nobles family was dependent upon the skill of the houses swordsmen, with custom dictating that all disputes and matters are settled with duels. To prevent putting the nobility at risk, they and only they, are allowed to employ the talents of simple folk to fight their duels for them. With his parents being poor Lucas could barely remember them, as he was sold to 'House Riel' at a young age, and put to training as a swordsman immediately. When he reached the age of sixteen he was granted his first personal blade, a steel short sword which he had named 'Nightbane', a weapon that swiftly helped him earn a name for himself among the Houses. Lucrative offers were made to House Riel in return for the lads service, but the House had grown proud of their fierce fighter, publicly declaring him the best in all the lands and granting the young man the right to wear their name. Word soon got to the king, of a small house, boasting of having the finest swordsman in the lands, wishing to see so for himself, he journeyed to their home and offered to buy the swordsmen from them, but in their arrogance they declined. The refusal was seen as an insult and direct challenge to the kings authority, using his influence he had the house stripped of its lands and titles and sent into exile. Young Lucas stuck with the family as they traveled east through the hinterlands with what little possessions remained to them, but inexperience with the rigors of travel led to the death of many, with once loyal house guards turning bandit. Wounded from his ordeals and attempts to crush the mutiny of his fellow swordsman, Lucas was left behind by those whom had escaped the battle unscathed, and had been forced to leave behind those too sick or frail to keep up. Eventually Barren earth gave way to lush grass, than fields of corn, Lucas collapsed at the feet of the first person he had seen in days, shortly passing out afterward. The man who had found him, a local farmer of the township of Crosshaven, helped nurse him back to health and offered lodgings to the young man in return for help with work around the farm. He accepted immediately and worked many a season for his savior, but in his heart he longed to return to his homeland and slay the man who ruined his House, yet found he knew not the way home. Who is the Seer?: Someone who may know of his homeland, as the name has been met with confused stares by all others/ A travelling companion.

On lui jetait des noms alors qu'elle se tenait devant le voyant. "Quelle pute!" L'un d'eux a appelé, "Mettons des fringues sur ta tarte!" Un autre slurred. Niana se tourna et siffla. Force d'habitude. Un homme à côté du voyant lui a offert un poncho. Niana s'est secoué la tête mais n'a rien dit (bien que ce ne soit pas comme parler viendrait facilement pour elle, des années de solitude et personne avec qui parler ne fera cela à une personne.) Aussi vite qu'un chat de forêt, le Seer a arraché le poncho et l'a drapé au-dessus de Niana, qui s'est cognée et a été évidemment inconfortable par la couverture soudaine de son corps. Le voyant a commencé à parler, il ou elle a ordonné très sévèrement que Niana ne quitte pas son côté jusqu'à ce que leur brin désigné de destin entrelacé soit déveludé. Les yeux de la fille férale se déplaçaient difficilement vers le Shaman en disant son temps au côté du voyant. Soudain, un ordre qui l'a fait cligner des yeux dans la surprise. "Maintenant parle." Le voyant l'avait dit. Les mots étaient là, flottant dans sa tête, rangés depuis qu'elle avait entendu parler de la venue du voyant. Ma famille a été assassinée et j'ai besoin d'aide pour trouver les responsables, c'est ce qu'elle voulait dire, mais c'était comme s'il y avait une déconnexion entre son cerveau et sa bouche. Elle s'est concentrée. Sa voix humaine est sortie, formant des mots comme un enfant le pouvait, apprenant simplement à parler. "F-fam-illy." Elle a rasé, "Murdered..." C'était tout ce qu'elle pouvait dire. Des souvenirs douloureux ont inondé le dos. Elle les supprimait depuis si longtemps. Les visages de sa famille, de sa sœur, de sa mère, de son père flottaient tous dans son esprit comme trois marques chaudes. Les larmes en colère se répandirent dans ses yeux, pleines d'émotion, crues comme quelqu'un qui n'avait jamais appris à enfermer leurs sentiments intérieurs. Bien que les larmes aient ajouté une lueur à sa peau bronzée, elle n'a pas brisé le contact visuel avec le voyant.

Name: Niana Age: 18 Gender: Female Bio: Originally from Crosshaven, Niana and her parents went up to the mountains looking for her older sister who had disappeared a few days before. It turned out that bandits had robbed her and left her for dead on the snowy slope of a mountain. When the rest of the family arrived, the bandits struck again, murdering Niana's parents but sparing her and leaving 12 year old Niana in the nearby forest to her fate. Determined to survive, Niana has lived for the past five years in the forest, not sure of where she was or how to get home. She learned to be self-sufficient and to thrive in the wild of the mountain and forests bordering the fields of Crosshaven, and eventually in the last year found her way back to the wide-open plains surrounding Crosshaven. She has not formally reentered the town, but instead watches and observes daily life from the shadows and outskirts of the town, which is how she found out about the Seer. Who is the Seer?: Someone who can help her track down the men that killed her sister and parents. There's mine ^.^V

F-fam-illy. C'est ce que j'ai dit. C'est ce que j'ai dit. Tué. C'est ce que j'ai dit. C'est ce que j'ai dit. Le chaman regardait avec un peu d'intérêt que le Seer fonctionnait son pouvoir magique. C'était étrange. Bien que cette femme sauvage et le voyant venaient de rencontrer déjà le pouvoir de ce mystique semblait la soumettre. Avec un simple ordre écrit, la femme à la peau sombre a été amenée au bord des larmes, puis, à l'explication de leur source, ils sont tombés sans réserve. Toute la scène était plus que choquante; si le voyant savait que ces choses allaient arriver? Pourquoi d'autre serait-il ici? Il a dû savoir, par un pouvoir intuitif, que le peuple de Crosshaven avait besoin de sa direction. En vérité, le chaman a été laissé dans un état d'admiration perpétuelle. Mais alors la réalisation de la situation a frappé, la gravité. Si ce qu'a dit la folle était vrai alors cela pourrait signifier qu'il y avait encore de tels hommes dans les limites du village. En tant que guérisseur, le chaman s'intéressait non seulement au bien-être du village, mais aussi à sa sécurité. Il n'y avait aucun moyen de dire combien de temps les meurtres avaient eu lieu. Argo voulait parler, interroger la femme, découvrir la vérité. Au lieu de cela, il est resté silencieux. La façon dont ses larmes sont tombées, il a senti que dire quelque chose pourrait seulement causer plus de mal. Il faisait ce que le voyant avait ordonné, il regardait et attendait, écoutait et apprenait. Même s'il était affligé par la douleur de la folle, il ne pouvait vraiment rien faire pour elle, mais il ne la connaissait pas ni rien à son sujet. C'est pas vrai. La meilleure façon d'agir serait de voir ce que le voyant a fait, de suivre ses conseils et de prier les dieux pour un résultat positif.

Name: Argo of Crosshaven Age: 16 Gender: Male Bio: A villager turned aspiring healer. Argo dreams of one day becoming the shaman of his village (which currently has none), healing the sick and infirm and giving good counsel to his fellow villagers. Who is the Seer?: A person of great learning through which Argo will be able to attain his dream of becoming a great shaman and healer.

Lucas a grimpé les différentes pièces placées sur le comptoir tout en brouillant pour verser des boissons pour tous ceux qui ont demandé. Pendant tout ce temps, il regardait attentivement le bar autour de lui pour tous ceux qui étaient plus enragés qu'il ne l'aimait. Pour une taverne plus ou moins emballée, les choses semblaient bien. Heureusement, l'homme sans nom avait pris un poncho et l'avait jetée sur la femme habilement habillée, les gens hurlant dans l'appréciation autour d'elle. L'un des deux marchands avait l'air d'essayer de retenir le rire tandis que l'autre le regardait avec démentie. Alors que les conversations balayaient le bar, il semblait enfin que Lucas savait pourquoi tant de gens avaient afflué dans la Taverne de Niirborhood. Apparemment, le Seer était allé en ville, et plus que ça, dans la taverne de Lucas. Lucas lui-même a roulé les yeux là-dessus, pensant que les gens de Crosshaven avaient un peu plus de sens que ça. Le voyant était une histoire, c'est tout. Personne comme ça ne pourrait exister. Alors que Lucas continuait à regarder autour de la taverne, il a remarqué que la fille aux cheveux blancs faisait une agitation, pleurant et regardant très bouleversé. Argo n'était pas non plus très bien non plus. Entre eux, l'homme sans nom se tenait, sans émotion comme toujours. Lucas fronça légèrement et décida d'incestiguer. Il s'est balancé dans le bar, servant des boissons au fur et à mesure qu'il partait. -- Excuse-moi, Argo! Il s'est penché sur le bar et a appelé les autres voix bruyantes à la seule personne qu'il connaissait vraiment dans le groupe. "Tout va bien là-bas?"

Lucas Niir Age - 29 Gender - Male Bio - Lucas comes from a town a little ways down the road from Cross-Haven, where his parents own a locally famous tavern by the name of "Your Friendly Niirborhood Tavern." Their service is fantastic and incredibly quick, with their only being three people employed: Both of Lucas's parents, and a single cook. Their business was their pride and joy, and ever since childhood, Lucas was captured by the devotion his parents showed towards their business, and aspired to run the store some day. Lucas helped out around the tavern, and eventually was considered to be a fourth employee by everyone. He learned much from his parents, and eventually became skilled enough to open his own tavern in Cross-Haven by the same name. Business there, although a little slower due to the smaller size of the town, was well, and lived up to the reputation of his parents business in the town over. Lately, however, it had come to Lucas's attention that his father had come down with a terrible sickness. Due to this, his normally cheerful and eager-to-please attitude has waned a little bit. Who is the Seer? - Lucas has heard of him/her, but doesn't believe in The Seer. Upon mention, he usually will laugh and reply with: "Hell, we can all see, can't we? I don't see the big hoopla over it."

Rhys regarda le bar assis à côté de lui et s'arrêta lentement pour s'asseoir dessus. Il regarda l'obscurcissement tenter d'attraper son œil, mais en vain. Il était fatigué et très affamé, mais il devait continuer à écrire au cas où il manquerait quelque chose d'important. Tirant la même feuille de papier de plus tôt, il continua d'écrire. «Venez au village de CrossHaven et trouvez une taverne où beaucoup de gens semblent se précipiter. Il se peut qu'il se passe quelque chose de grand ici. Pourrais-je être au milieu de quelque chose de merveilleux? Essayer de commander de la nourriture et des boissons et ensuite essayer de trouver des logements. Il y a beaucoup de gens étranges ici, ils sont tous si différents et j'espère me faire de nouveaux amis, si je le fais... juste une plaisanterie... ou pas' Rhys s'est ridiculisé, il savait que personne d'autre ne lirait ces entrées, alors il s'est fait de drôles de blagues pour quand il les reverrait plus tard dans la vie. Rhys a commencé à penser, ce qu'il ferait de toutes ces entrées, il avait plus de 700 entrées chacune aussi insignifiantes que la dernière. Ils étaient des choses de tous les jours où rien d'excitant ne s'est passé, sûr que c'était amusant de les écrire, mais seraient-ils amusants et pleins de souvenirs quand il les relisait. Rhys avait besoin d'événements aventureux pour le rendre plus intéressant, pour le rendre plus intéressant. C'était un voyageur avec une vie ennuyeuse. La semaine dernière, le sien était dans un village animé et qu'a-t-il fait, a passé la plupart des jours à balayer un atelier, à nettoyer une taverne et à nettoyer des chevaux. Sûr que c'était sa façon de gagner de l'argent pour voyager, mais qu'est-ce que s'il trouvait un travail plus excitant et réellement impliqué interagir avec les gens ou quelque chose de plus significatif, juste quelque chose de mieux à écrire dans ses entrées pour qu'il ne se sente pas comme il a quitté sa vie ancienne pour rien.

Name: Rhys Errol Age: 19 Gender: Male Bio: Rhy is a traveller, his hometown is unknown as he has never stayed for long in a town before. This was mostly due to his mother moving them from town to town, the reason to this day he still does not know. His mother often left him with strangers for periods of time and he has been raised by many people, although Rhys has not seen his temporary carers since his time with them as his mother would return and move him again to another town to be once again left to be raised by strangers. This cycle ended around his 17th birthday when his mother admitted she would not be returning soon and didn't want him to have to wait for her, she gave him the chance to stay where he pleased, travel back to any of his carers or go his own way and travel. Rhys chose to travel. Who is the Seer?: A travelling companion

Le voyant apparut... déçu que le mystique regardât dans les yeux de la fille. Ayant recueilli toutes les informations nécessaires de ses yeux, le voyant s'est détourné d'elle pour se concentrer sur la fin de manger et de boire. "La vengeance, c'est que... ce n'est pas un motif pour lequel nous avons beaucoup de respect, tout ce qui se produit, c'est la haine et la malice." Le Seer a pris une autre grande boisson du vin de miel et a frappé ses lèvres quelques fois dans le contentement. "Malgré ces doutes, le destin a dicté cette rencontre et nous y parviendrons." Le Seer a atteint dans son manteau et a sorti une bobine de fil blanc et a démêlé un brin autour d'une cour de longueur et l'a coupé avec un ongle de toutes choses. "Fils du destin Révélez le chemin à suivre Connecter les brins Révélez le plan Décider de notre sort Avant que le temps ne dise" Le Voyeur répéta ce chant alors que les doigts dansaient à travers le fil, laissant derrière eux des arcs, des boucles et des noeuds au fur et à mesure qu'ils marchaient. Bientôt le long brin était maintenant assez irratiable et totalement aléatoire. À la fin, il y avait trois segments distincts qui pouvaient être vus, l'un avait plus de nœuds que tout autre, le second avait plusieurs arcs et bords fraiés, le troisième avait une seule boucle et le juste terminé brusquement, l'extrémité arrachée et cassée. Le voyant regardait les segments séparés avec une expression réfléchie, puis le remettait au jeune chaman. -- Lequel de ces trois chemins prendriez-vous? Le Seer a demandé et a continué à terminer le repas qui était presque parti à ce stade.

Name: Unknown Appearance: (Just ignore the 'tails') Age: Unknown Gender: Unknown Bio: The Seer is an enigma and seemingly unknowable. A wanderer who at times can see the future and seems to always have mysterious events surrounding The Seer's every journey. Who is The Seer? What is the Seer? Does even The Seer know its purpose or is The Seer merely tight-lipped? What is known about the Seer is wherever The Seer travels, change is soon to follow. Who is the Seer?: The Seer is The Seer, nothing more, nothing less.

Prenant la bobine avec véracité du voyant, Argo a fait de son mieux pour essayer de discerner les différences entre les trois fils. Il avait une certaine pratique dans l'art de scruter, bien que son incompétence dans de telles choses était évidente devant lui maintenant. Pour lui, les bobines semblaient représenter des chemins différents, chacun se tordant et se liant aux autres, chacun contribuant à une masse commune, si confuse. "Pardonne-moi de voir, mais je ne peux rien en tirer d'importance. Ces brins semblent représenter la vie de diverses personnes, même si je ne peux pas dire comment elles interagissent et ce qu'elles deviendront. » D'une certaine façon, Argo sentait qu'il avait déjà échoué. Quelque chose d'aussi simple que cette première tâche avait clairement montré que sa formation n'était pas à la hauteur de la tâche à accomplir. Pourtant, il ne pouvait pas laisser ça le dissuader de s'aventurer à l'avenir. Twistant les fils de masse dans ses mains, les yeux d'Argo se tournèrent de nouveau vers l'autre mystique, offrant une question. « Si le voyant ne me dérange pas, j'aimerais savoir ce qu'ils en pensent? » Les mains du chaman offraient la toile tordue des fils en arrière, les doigts guidant le dos sur la table avant le voyant. Peut-être que s'il connaissait quelque chose des méthodes du voyant, il serait plus facile de déterminer la bonne façon de répondre au problème.

Name: Argo of Crosshaven Age: 16 Gender: Male Bio: A villager turned aspiring healer. Argo dreams of one day becoming the shaman of his village (which currently has none), healing the sick and infirm and giving good counsel to his fellow villagers. Who is the Seer?: A person of great learning through which Argo will be able to attain his dream of becoming a great shaman and healer.

Tandis que le Seer décriait à haute voix ses rêves de vengeance, Niana sentit une vague de défaite s'écraser sur elle. Ses épaules se sont effondrées. Si elle avait des oreilles de chat, elles se seraient effondrées. Une nouvelle vague de larmes est sortie et a fait leur chemin sur ses joues déjà mouillées. Sa famille ne se reposerait jamais en paix, semble-t-il. Leurs âmes seraient condamnées à errer sans repos, la justice les éludant. La fille folle voulait sortir du stupide bâtiment humain et s'enfuir dans la nature, où elle appartenait vraiment; mais pour une raison quelconque elle restait devant le Voyeur qui faisait de la magie avec une ficelle. Niana ne comprend rien. Elle a regardé l'homme à côté du voyant. Il sentait les herbes et les épices. Peut-être une sorte de chamane? Ça n'avait pas d'importance. Niana a saisi son couteau autour de son cou avec les deux mains et a fermé les yeux, essayant d'endiguer la marée des larmes.

Name: Niana Age: 18 Gender: Female Bio: Originally from Crosshaven, Niana and her parents went up to the mountains looking for her older sister who had disappeared a few days before. It turned out that bandits had robbed her and left her for dead on the snowy slope of a mountain. When the rest of the family arrived, the bandits struck again, murdering Niana's parents but sparing her and leaving 12 year old Niana in the nearby forest to her fate. Determined to survive, Niana has lived for the past five years in the forest, not sure of where she was or how to get home. She learned to be self-sufficient and to thrive in the wild of the mountain and forests bordering the fields of Crosshaven, and eventually in the last year found her way back to the wide-open plains surrounding Crosshaven. She has not formally reentered the town, but instead watches and observes daily life from the shadows and outskirts of the town, which is how she found out about the Seer. Who is the Seer?: Someone who can help her track down the men that killed her sister and parents. There's mine ^.^V

Un nuage de poussière a commencé à s'installer sur le chemin pavé alors que Fredrick s'est arrêté à l'extérieur des écuries, le marié qui était un jeune garçon par le regard des choses, a dévié dans l'espace. "Mon garçon. Veillez à ce que mon cheval soit stable et nourri." Il commanda, démontant de son cheval fluidement, donnant au garçon le règne et quelques cuivres, avant de le pousser rapidement passé pour arriver à l'entrée de la taverne. Le jeune homme s'est éternué sur le dos, et a craché par terre, quelque peu mécontent d'être réveillé de son rêve, mais Fredrick ne lui a rien dit. Il avait rapidement entendu parler de l'emplacement des voyants, et ainsi avait la moitié de la ville supposément du din du bruit qui venait de l'intérieur, soigneusement il a ouvert la porte et poussé son chemin à travers un groupe de personnes qui avait amassé autour d'une des tables. Beaucoup regardaient l'épée sur sa hanche suspectement, d'autres allaient jusqu'à le défier avec des regards désapprouvés, il n'était pas courant pour un homme de se promener armé dans une petite ville comme celle-ci, et avait été un autre jour il pouvait même enseigner quelques-uns d'entre eux quelques leçons en ce qui concerne, mais non, son esprit était concentré uniquement sur le voyant. Et si ce n'est pas le voyant? La question a éclipsé ses pensées. Peut-être juste un prétendant? Un autre suggéra que la couleur se levait le cou à la mémoire de sa hâte, un défaut que son maître avait dit une fois serait la mort de lui. S'arrêtant une seconde derrière le dernier mur des spectateurs, il poussa vers l'avant, prenant rapidement la scène devant lui. Une fille étrange, légèrement habillée, à côté du poncho qu'elle portait, se tenait devant la table. Ses yeux se fermaient, peut-être se cachant des regards qu'elle tirait de certains de ses mécènes, des regards bien plus menaçants que n'importe quelle de ses épées. Son style de robe étrange a au moins attiré les yeux loin du sien. Le jeune chaman de la ville contemplait des morceaux de fil devant un étranger, la confusion peinte sur son visage, comme il les offrait en retour. Donc c'était le soi-disant voyant, ça n'a pas l'air grand-chose. Il s'est demandé, croisant les bras sur sa poitrine, il a décidé de regarder et de contempler son prochain mouvement. Oh, vous ne seriez pas fier Maître. Ici, je fais enfin preuve de patience et de prudence. Il pensait amèrement qu'il attendait la réaction des soi-disant voyants, le doute tenait réserve dans son esprit et il commençait à regretter d'avoir agi sur une rumeur.

Name: Fredrick Riel Appearance: Age: 19 Gender: Male Lucas was born far to the west, in a land where the success of a nobles family was dependent upon the skill of the houses swordsmen, with custom dictating that all disputes and matters are settled with duels. To prevent putting the nobility at risk, they and only they, are allowed to employ the talents of simple folk to fight their duels for them. With his parents being poor Lucas could barely remember them, as he was sold to 'House Riel' at a young age, and put to training as a swordsman immediately. When he reached the age of sixteen he was granted his first personal blade, a steel short sword which he had named 'Nightbane', a weapon that swiftly helped him earn a name for himself among the Houses. Lucrative offers were made to House Riel in return for the lads service, but the House had grown proud of their fierce fighter, publicly declaring him the best in all the lands and granting the young man the right to wear their name. Word soon got to the king, of a small house, boasting of having the finest swordsman in the lands, wishing to see so for himself, he journeyed to their home and offered to buy the swordsmen from them, but in their arrogance they declined. The refusal was seen as an insult and direct challenge to the kings authority, using his influence he had the house stripped of its lands and titles and sent into exile. Young Lucas stuck with the family as they traveled east through the hinterlands with what little possessions remained to them, but inexperience with the rigors of travel led to the death of many, with once loyal house guards turning bandit. Wounded from his ordeals and attempts to crush the mutiny of his fellow swordsman, Lucas was left behind by those whom had escaped the battle unscathed, and had been forced to leave behind those too sick or frail to keep up. Eventually Barren earth gave way to lush grass, than fields of corn, Lucas collapsed at the feet of the first person he had seen in days, shortly passing out afterward. The man who had found him, a local farmer of the township of Crosshaven, helped nurse him back to health and offered lodgings to the young man in return for help with work around the farm. He accepted immediately and worked many a season for his savior, but in his heart he longed to return to his homeland and slay the man who ruined his House, yet found he knew not the way home. Who is the Seer?: Someone who may know of his homeland, as the name has been met with confused stares by all others/ A travelling companion.

Le voyant regarda à blanc à Argo pendant un moment, puis supprima un petit mandrin. "Eh bien, vous êtes honnête, je vais vous donner ça." Le voyant a ramassé le gâchis du fil et l'a agité un moment. "Tu vois ce que ça veut dire?" Le voyant a pointé à plusieurs endroits différents apparemment au hasard. "Absolument rien! On vient d'inventer ce tas de bouffées de sang pour voir si tu avais une once de cerveau en toi! Si vous aviez essayé de comprendre un sens plus profond de ce lot d'inutilité, nous vous aurions mis dehors pour être une fraude. Pourtant, vous avez au moins deviné le sens que nous essayions de transmettre." Le voyant a ensuite déravé le fil sur un caprice, en quelque sorte réussi à se débarrasser de toutes les boucles, noeuds, et même les bords effilés rendant le fil complètement entier, de nouveau sur la bobine dans le manteau du voyant. "Quant à vous, arrêtez d'être au bord des larmes!" Le voyant s'est retourné vers Niana avec un grand dessein, car ses yeux avaient été fermés qui lui avaient permis de pincer légèrement les joues de la jeune femme entre ses pouces et ses avant-gardistes et de lui donner un étirement rapide et soudain avait les mains sur le côté comme si rien ne s'était passé. "Juste parce que nous n'approuvons pas personnellement ne signifie pas que je n'aiderai pas. Quoi qu'il en soit, ils devraient être traduits en justice, en ce fait, vous ne trouverez aucun argument de notre part; cependant, nous avons des questions plus urgentes qui pourraient retenir mon attention de la tâche de les retrouver. Soyez également reconnaissants que votre fil conducteur du destin coïncide donc avec celui que nous devons suivre. » Le voyant a ensuite vu l'un des nouveaux spectateurs qui s'est avéré être Fredrick. "Ce regard d'examen attentif ne vous convient pas." Puis le voyant a fait une motion de séparation à la foule. "Faites place, nous avons déjà ce pour quoi nous sommes venus ici." Il/elle allait faire un pas vers la sortie et entrer dans la foule quand le voyant s'est retourné pour s'assurer que la nourriture et la boisson avaient été finies. Voyant que tout avait été dévoré et payé, le Voyeur a dit « nos compliments pour la nourriture et le vin de miel », a pris Niana par le poignet dans une poignée ferme mais douce, puis rapidement est entré dans la foule. C'était une chose curieuse qui s'est produite ensuite, ceux qui étaient devant le Seer ont juste senti le besoin de sortir du chemin dès que le Seer était près d'eux. Quelques-uns essayèrent de résister mais n'essayèrent pas assez fort et avant que le voyant ne puisse labourer n'importe lequel d'entre eux, ils s'éloignèrent du chemin. C'était comme voir un aimant qui repousse le métal poussé à travers le sable. Ceux qui se sentaient proches comme le voyant ne devaient pas être touchés, ceux qui essayaient de toucher Niana comme ils passaient soudainement senti comme si un icicle était pressé contre leur colonne vertébrale et ce choc et cette peur soudaine s'assuraient qu'elle était en sécurité. "Si vous venez alors, venez", le voyant a dirigé cela vers Argo et Frederick, non pas par la vue, mais une sorte de projection vocale. "Sinon, retourne aux bières et aux bières. Nous sommes très occupés." Avant deux autres secousses d'un bâton, ils avaient déjà fait leur sortie de la porte et dans la rue.

Name: Unknown Appearance: (Just ignore the 'tails') Age: Unknown Gender: Unknown Bio: The Seer is an enigma and seemingly unknowable. A wanderer who at times can see the future and seems to always have mysterious events surrounding The Seer's every journey. Who is The Seer? What is the Seer? Does even The Seer know its purpose or is The Seer merely tight-lipped? What is known about the Seer is wherever The Seer travels, change is soon to follow. Who is the Seer?: The Seer is The Seer, nothing more, nothing less.