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Interna_Chaotica
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Posted: Tue, 01/02/2022 02:56 (3 Years ago)

Jaxon stepped back a step, keeping his distance from Grey in case another attack was launched. Upon hearing his name, however, he paused. His stance stayed defensive, each muscle tense and ready to counter, to block, or to strike. His eyes searched Grey's face carefully, a critical stare, the stare of a fighter. After a moment, he spoke. It was an angry sentence, a harsh string of words slung like profanities. "How th'hell do you know my name?" His feet squared, bracing for an impact, any attack thrown at him. It was a trick, he told himself. Anything for the enemy to gain an advantage. They knew who he was... Of course they did.

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Posted: Tue, 01/02/2022 02:08 (3 Years ago)

Jaxon felt a fist hit his gut, knocking his breath away. Grabbing his own hands, he brought the combined fists down hard, hoping to score a decent hit on his attacker's back. It was a basic move, of course, but it was a powerful one. Jaxon knew CQC like he knew his own voice; if there was something to do, he knew how to do it. The attack was heavy, both to and from his opponent. The only problem was that his enemy was faster than him. Of course, he held strength high over his attacker's head, giving him the opposite bonus. It was an ancient question; Who wins? Strength or speed?

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Posted: Tue, 01/02/2022 01:47 (3 Years ago)

Jaxon felt the metal in his hand start to warp, his head whipping to the side, spotting Grey instantly; it would be hard to miss a soldier standing over his fallen shape. His gun warped dangerously over his hand, making him fling the weapon away from himself. He rolled away from the sandbags, as dangerous as it might be to be seen by the machine-gun crew, and stood, kicking away scraps of metal from his feet that seemed intent on crawling up his legs. He rolled his shoulders, cracking joints carefully, his eye always on Grey. He shook out his hands, the gun he threw useless, and discarded his tool belt; it would only weigh him down. He rubbed his hands across his chest, cleaning them of anything that would get in the way; it left grey marks across his uniform.

Stepping back a few steps, out of the machine-gun's potential turning radius, Jaxon popped his neck. He seemed ready for a battle in just those few quick steps. "Come on now, friend. Let's see what you've got." He flung his arms out to the side, making half-fists with either hand; something between a fist for punching, and a cup for hooking. It was a dangerous way to hold one's hands, and Jaxon knew it. Without any way to become immune to damage, he had to do his best with what he had... And then still clear out a machine-gun nest.

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Posted: Sun, 30/01/2022 04:40 (3 Years ago)

Jaxon armed himself with a Beretta M9 that he checked over quickly, removing the clip and placing it back, checking the bolt, the shell rejection, and the safety. Storing it in the front of his pants, the large soldier stepped over to the edge of the helicopter. He was among the last few to jump. The heavy man wore no parachute, much to the surprise of the pilots. One of them turned, looking back at the remaining soldiers, who were getting ready to jump. "I don't think he was wearing a parachute!" One soldier grinned, a senior officer to nearly all who had just jumped. "Of course not!" With that, he stepped out of the chopper, freefalling. The large form of Jaxon fell before him, freefalling the full way. Deploying his parachute, the officer grinned, watching Jaxon fall, lower, lower, lower...

When he hit the ground, Jaxon sent up a wave of metal shreds and dust. He'd hit the rear of a tank, demolishing the armor in an instant. He sat frozen for two seconds, forced into silent stillness. After those seconds passed, he stood carefully, stepping over sharpened fragments of heavy metal. Looking around through the clearing dust, he saw bodies scattered, bloody and mauled. The crew of the tank shouted, scrambling out of their quarters with great alarm. Looking down at where he'd landed, Jaxon paused. He'd smashed through the engine housing, breaking open the fuel tank. This left the engine prone to explosion, and it didn't seem to stop with the sparking that was happening, the tank trying in vain to restart itself. Jaxon sighed, then grabbed for his weapon, hopefully not crippled by the impact. Kicking at the engine, Jaxon tried to stop it from sparking, from flinging the begging sparks into the leaking fuel. This only caused it to spark more, much to his dismay. After a few moments, the engine itself caught on fire, causing Jaxon to sigh and quickly hit the ground, braced for an impact. The engine exploded mere moments after he activated his ability, a violent fireball flinging the poor soldier a good ten yards. When he landed, he heard the all-too familiar sound of a sandbag resisting his push. He went still, listening to a vicious gun firing just above him. A machine-gun nest, or part of one. Jaxon had already used his two charges for the fifteen-minute time period. Checking his weapon quickly, Jaxon determined that it was still in a fully operational state. Taking a few quick breaths, the man put a shell in the chamber. He had fifteen bullets in that magazine, and two more clips with him. That was forty-five rounds to defend himself and clear out the entire nest. He'd have to resort to fighting guns with his bare hands, if anything went wrong...

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Posted: Sat, 29/01/2022 16:28 (3 Years ago)

Such a display would have usually gotten Dezerae to clap, applauding the aerial acrobatics. However, this was not the usual scenario. As soon as they registered what was happening, the demigod threw their duffel bag to the side, ripping their belt from their waist and flicking it downwards. After a moment, they held their rapier up before them, one hand clenched in a fist around the handle, the other out to the side. "Who's our strategist again? Because we need a plan of action, and we need it now." Dezerae stepped forward a few steps, eyeing the creature opposing the group carefully, evaluating it; sizing up their opponent no doubt, pointing out potential strengths and weaknesses, anything to gain an edge if battle did commense.

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Posted: Fri, 28/01/2022 01:06 (3 Years ago)

Jaxon was the last to jump, he running start causing the helicopter to rock dangerously. The heavy man wore no parachute, much to the dismay of both pilots of the helicopter. One of them turned, looking back at the one remaining soldier, who was getting ready to jump. "Was he wearing a parachute?!" The soldier grinned, a senior officer to nearly all who had just jumped. "Of course not!" With that, he stepped out of the chopper, freefalling. The large form of Jaxon fell before him, though he kept waiting to deploy anything to slow his fall... He waited... And waited... There wasn't enough time now, for him to stop himself without breaking his legs. However, he only swung his legs forward, curling into a ball and slowly spinning. Five seconds to impact... Four... Three... Two... There, there was a change in the falling figure. It was hard to tell what exactly had happened, but something changed. One second... Impact. Jaxon had landed in the middle of two warring machines, one faster but the other stronger. He laid still for three seconds, a massive cloud of dust going up over his head, clouding vision both friendly and aggressive. Both of the armored vehicles stopped moving, unable to navigate without line-of-sight. Standing up, Jaxon brushed off his now filthy uniform. Looking up, he recognized the barrel of the enemy vehicle, still shrouded in the ever-spreading dust. He chewed on his tongue for a moment, hearing the sounds of battle slowly fall into chaos and confusion around him, the dust choking friends and enemies alike. Jaxon ran forward, out of a two-and-a-half foot crater he'd just made, and leapt onto the tank marked in red. The shouts of the crew within could be heard, hearing footsteps on the shell of their mobile bunker. Jaxon reached down once he reached the apex of the armored gun, wrenching the top hatch open with a single mighty twist, tugging the hatch out of the way, letting it rest on the cover of the turret. Reaching down once again, the soldier reached into the tank, pulling the crew's spotted out of his place and hoisting him aside with both hands. They had no weapons on their bodies, the tank crew assured that they would be protected. With the turret clear, Jaxon sat at the edge of the opening, kicking downwards with all high might, ruining the spotting system and crippling the turret's rotation. Standing back up, he leapt off the vehicle. His job was done there. The crew shouted to one another, scrambling out of the now ruined tank and scattering, gathering their comrade before Jaxon found himself a weapon.

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Posted: Thu, 27/01/2022 01:56 (3 Years ago)

Name: Clay Graves
Age: 26
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Aro/Ase
Aboveground or Underground: Aboveground
Personality: Clay is a cold, depressing character, a sort of wet blanket over any glad emotions. He's been scarred by the rough life aboveground, a stone-faced defender of only himself... (More to be explained in the roleplay, because minor writer's block)
Backstory: Clay grew up under the protection of his older brother, who has since been killed. His brother taught him how to survive, how to fight and win, and how to escape. Clay uses each of these skills nearly daily, stealing food and fighting for it, if needed. And if he can, he simply sneaks away, unseen by the rightful owner of the food. (Again, more in the roleplay, because ✨writer's block✨)
Preferred Weapon: A length of barbed wire, wrapped around the knuckles of a right-hand glove
Password: RoboCop

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Posted: Thu, 27/01/2022 01:14 (3 Years ago)

Jaxon had chuckled at Bree's explanation, mumbling something about how they probably used someone to follow her scent, knowing how they were. At Jordan's question, Jaxon had opened his mouth to respond, but only nodded when Bree spoke. He ignored the rest of the conflict beside him as best as he could, only ushering Bree back to her seat before sitting down again, a silent promise that they would speak again later passed between them. The time was fast approaching for their jump, judging by the amount of nervous leg-rubbing and fist clenching. There would be a parachute under each soldier's seat, if they didn't already wear one on their back. Jaxon reached under and pulled his from where it sat, then set it back down on the ground and pushed it with his foot until it made contact with Bree.

He wouldn't need it, after all.

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Posted: Wed, 26/01/2022 14:40 (3 Years ago)

Jaxon froze when he heard Bree's voice, his head lifting to look at who stood before him. His voice was heavy, slow... Familiar. Not just to Bree, but to everybody; a feeling of deja vu, in the form of a voice. "Bree.. I didn't realize they'd found you again." His aura seemed warmer, almost instantly after he saw her. Still, there seemed to be some dark force knotting itself up, just below what might have been his throat. It seemed hard for him to lose the sudden boost in brightness, despite how much the shadow in his neck pulsated and writhed. He wore a warm smile then, standing up and holding out one hand, offering something between a handshake and a hug.

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Posted: Wed, 26/01/2022 04:40 (3 Years ago)

Another collection of soldiers could soon be heard, these ones more unsettling than the average guard. Their footsteps were not only in sync, but nearly silent. They wore blackouts, the jet-black uniforms padded with vests and their faces hidden by cloth masks and glasses. Each one carried a weapon, their fingers on the triggers. Six of them, walking in a hexagonal formation, a single heavier set of footsteps breaking the unsettling silence. These were long, angry strides, each foot carrying enough weight to be stomping the poor leather boots they wore into creaking. The man who wore them was large, too large to be anything without an ability. He had guards, guards too dangerous and too numerous to be anything but dangerous. The guards halted just outside the helicopter, the first two stepping to the sides and back a few steps, their weapons trained on Jaxon States as he stepped into the helicopter and took his seat. One of the dark soldiers stepped forward, into the helicopter, and slapped Jaxon's cheek in a rather friendly matter, for the circumstances. "No trouble, alright?" His voice was camouflaged by some kind of voice changer in his mask, making it sound as if he were on the other end of a radio. States only grunted in response. Stepping out of the helicopter, the guard turned to the group gathered there. His voice was still electric, guarded jealously. "This is Jaxon States. He'll be your shield from heavy munitions, and your duelist when things start to get a bit messy." With that, the guard turned on his heel, the group reforming in a different, double-file rank, and marched away. Jaxon offered no greeting, only silence and brooding.

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Posted: Tue, 25/01/2022 02:33 (3 Years ago)

Dezerae jumped like they'd been jabbed in the side when the wind blew against the group. Almost instantly, they started slapping themselves across their arms, legs, neck, and chest, then started to jog in place, bouncing from foot to foot. "Gods almighy holy shi-.. Err, holy... Crap. Yeah.. Anyways, that was.. Sudden, chilly, and overall shocking. Did anybody bring a bag of longer or heavier clothes? This tank-top is really thin, and these shorts don't do much for body heat." They started to rub their arms with a vengeance, their teeth gritted. "And does anybody want to start jogging in place so I don't look like an idiot? It'll help, I promise!" They barked out a laugh, slowly trying to adjust to the cold. Judging by their shivering and complaining, it wasn't going well.

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Posted: Tue, 25/01/2022 02:14 (3 Years ago)

Name: Trouble
Relationship Type: Aro/Ase
Cat breed: Bobcat
Clan: None; Rogue
Appearance: Trouble is just larger than a housecat, the average for his species. He's the average color as well; a sandy tan, speckled with black dots. His underside is white, and is tail is short. His eyes are a brown-orange, and his nose a rusty red.
Gender: Male
Age: 75 Moons
Wearing/Accessories: Trouble has a single small, silver ring in his right ear for identification to two-legs.
Specialties: Trouble is a hunter, born and bred. He can pick out a scent and follow it for miles, even days after the source has gone by. His ears are more sensitive than that of a clan cat's, and his eyes are nearly immune to the sun's glare. He can also swim well, wide paws providing great paddles. He can dive down nearly ten feet to grab a fish or water vole. Finally, he's unafraid of two-legs, unless he recognizes a weapon in their hand; due to be researched, he knows two-legs better than most others.
Theme Song: Unstoppable - The Score
Bio/Other: Trouble enjoys following the scent of clan cats or housecats for several days before making himself seen...

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Posted: Sat, 22/01/2022 18:41 (3 Years ago)

Username - The_Blackguard_Empire
Character Name - Jaxon States
Age - 23
Gender - Male
Appearance - Jaxon stands just above the average for his age, a rough five feet and eleven inches. His eyes are a quiet gray, set within a soft, rather boyish face. A messy mop of brown hair sits atop his head, often hidden under a hat or helmet. His shoulders bear two well-muscled arms, bosting great strength and endurance. His hands are large, calloused and slightly scarred from the war. His legs are sturdy, like a tree planted for all twenty-three years of his life. Due to some shortages in nourishment in his lifestyle, Jaxon's midsection is comparatively small, allowing his ribs to tent his skin meagerly.
Power - "Behemoth" - Jaxon can enter a brief state of invulnerability, usually lasting for about three seconds. In this state, (with correct bracing of course) Jaxon can even resist the blast of a heavy weapon, such as artillery. The downsides of this ability are not major, but definitely make it more difficult to utilize; Jaxon cannot move his body while in this state, and it takes an immense amount of focus to keep from crying out in pain when he's struck with a blast or bullet. If Jaxon attempts to use the ability more often then twice in fifteen minutes, he'll take more damage than usual, instead of resisting it.
Role - Soldier
Allegiance - Blue
Personality - Jaxon is a steadfast, quiet individual. His mind works in the military style, always planning the next move; establish the area, seek out threats and be rid of them. He's a planner, overall, if extremely nervous about any part of the plan going wrong. To an outside eye, Jaxon seems like a cruel man, driven only by wealth. However, when acquainted with Jaxon or hiring him into a force, one might realize just how much he cares. It takes about three days for an individual to be taken under the man's wing.
Background - Raised outside of the war until the age of twelve, Jaxon lived an overall quiet life. However, at the age of twelve, he learned of the atrocities of war; hiding under the stairs of his family's two-story house, he listened to the sound of soldiers breaking down the door and taking custody of his mother, father, and younger brother. At that age, he had learned plenty about living on his own, and surviving without money; his father had been a survivalist, often inviting Jaxon to learn the ways of the woods. Jaxon lived that way until fifteen, eventually crossing the path of an older man, a hired mercenary who taught Jaxon all that he could, before a bullet had his name written on it, a meek four years later. Joining into the army at the age of twenty, Jaxon almost instantly found his life to be hell; as a Private, nobody trusted him with his ability, which he had only found out about a month after the death of his mentor.
Password - Bacon, Egg, and Cheese Biscuits... Wow, that sounds good.
Other - Though with a lack of stamina for running, Jaxon excels in CQC; hand-to-hand combat is his specialty, even if running is not.
PalPad Group? - Yes, please.

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Posted: Sat, 22/01/2022 18:04 (3 Years ago)

Dezerae's loud voice suddenly called over the group, disrupting any moments more tender than one would find at a professional drama. Their weights were gone, likely stashed in the duffel on their back. They wore a smile, padding a towel across their forehead to wipe away the sweat that had built up there. "Alright! Now we only need one more!" Their gaze turned towards the horizon, as if expecting to see Fallon come trotting gloomily over at any moment. Not seeing her after a few moments, Dezerae sighed, wiping down their face again then patting their neck with the towel, their skin gleaming like bronze from the leftover condensation, the rising sunlight making them seem as though they were made of gold, between their tan and the previously mentioned sweat. Dezerae managed to maneuver their duffel bag to the front of their chest, the carrying strap still over their shoulders, and stowed the towel away, sighing contentedly. Replacing the duffel to it's proper place, Dezerae inserted themselves into the group, their grin still wide. Thankfully, they didn't rest their arms on anybody's shoulders, but they gladly crossed their arms, their grin turning into a smug smile.

...

What could they be thinking?

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Posted: Mon, 17/01/2022 22:54 (3 Years ago)

Dezerae soon came jogging over the nearest horizon in a very exercise-oriented outfit; they were clad in a loose pair of athletic shorts, which were decorated green and black, a white tank top, some running shoes, blue tape around the hands, and a grey duffel bag slung over their back. The only thing that didn't fit quite well enough was a brown leather belt, wrapped around Dezerae's waist. In the duffel was their supplies for the trip, of course, but in their hands there were some black weights, seemingly marked with the number five at either end. They had a decent sweat already worked up, and evidently didn't plan on stopping soon. Trotting down the the pine tree, Dezerae nodded their greetings and stood off to the side, jabbing and punching at the air with their weights. Their feet were always moving, shifting, sliding, hopping back and forth. They ducked, sidestepped, countered, blocked... The list went on. The jabs and swings seemed like second nature to the demigod, a motion so fluid it was seamless between moves. This was an experienced boxer, already fully awake and working out. For those that knew Dezerae well, they knew that this was the average morning wake-up routine. Dez was a proud practitioner of the morning exercise routine, and a very strict coach, for those who had (briefly) trained under them. They did not speak, the only sound coming from their mouth being an occasional huff of air, not a single word to be spoken.

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Posted: Thu, 13/01/2022 01:46 (3 Years ago)

"Ahh, my weakness.. Maybe one, even though I know I'll break that promise in a matter of seconds." They scooted a bit closer to Cataneme, watching the marshmallows carefully in case another one were to fall into the flames, as they had a bad habit of doing that when Dez was around. The fire was warm in the dark night, a beacon of potential hope for those still around it. It promised that there would be those to search for what was lost, to find the missing piece of everything, and those who would make everything right. The fire silently promised hope to those without. It warmed more than just the marshmallows and the skin of those around, it warmed the soul as well.

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Posted: Thu, 13/01/2022 01:04 (3 Years ago)

Dezerae took Chiron's dismissal of the campfire as a chance to get packed, vanishing back to their cabin within minutes. A small duffel bag was what they'd brought with them to camp, that would have to be their vessel for... Three sets of clothes, two combs, mortal bills and change mixed with the few drachmas that Dez had collected in a side pocket, three sticks of deodorant (because they were NOT dealing with anybody smelling bad on the trip), and a large helping of extra willpower in the form of a bag of hard caramels that their dad had sent with them. Zipping the duffel bag quickly, Dezerae left it on their bed, then went back out to the campfire. In total, the packing had taken only a few minutes, which wasn't unusual for Dezerae. Their packing skills were legendary, with the road trips their father had brought them on. As they got back to the amphitheater, they gladly announced their success.

"Alright, I'm done packing! If anybody's late tomorrow, I blame them!"

With that, they sat down by the fire, hoping dearly that it didn't collapse on somebody.

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Posted: Wed, 12/01/2022 01:43 (3 Years ago)

The campfire was tense, the simple weight of the words settling like a damp blanket over the campers gathered there.

Strife and Luck be your wheel...

That particular part struck an odd chord with Dezerae, what with them being the child of the Goddess of strife. It was uncomfortable to think about, really; this was week two of being at the camp, and two things had already happened to Dezerae. First, they'd been despised for a very long while. Second, a prophecy that made them think about themselves had been issued by the gods. This was in no way a coincidence, was it? Surely "Strife" meant somebody else, maybe some other individual that had to do with misfortune. Maybe somebody unlucky? But no, Luck and Strife... Dezerae, sitting as far away from the fire as they could, stood up. Their voice called out over the silence.

"I'd like to volunteer to go on the quest! I think that, in the sentence 'Strife and Luck be your wheel,' I may be suitable to fit the role of strife."

The sentence was... More than Dezerae had expected to say, their hand still in the air after a long, stunned moment. Bringing their hand back down to their side, Dezerae let gaze after gaze turn to them, surprised and shocked. Chiron seemed... Not displeased, but certainly not satisfied.

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Interna_Chaotica OFFLINE Forum Posts: 51	Posted: Fri, 07/01/2022 02:05 (3 Years ago)
	We're terribly sorry, sir, but you seem to have broken this dimension. Please return to the main menu or try again. Waiter! There's a fork in my soup! [Read more]

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Posted: Fri, 07/01/2022 01:14 (3 Years ago)

Dezerae's trek to the infirmary was interrupted only briefly after they left the dining hall, hearing footsteps and a tired voice leaping ahead to greet them. The first call had barely been acknowledged, the rush of adrenaline causing blood to pound through Dezerae's ears. The second call, accompanied with the hand on their shoulder, really alerted Dezerae to the presence of somebody else. Fallon, technically cousin to Dezerae.

"So, where were you this morning? I didn't see you or Cataneme when I came back." This caused Dezerae to do a quick stutter-step.
"Well.." Their silence made about as good of an excuse as Dezerae could come up with.
"Were you hiding in your cabin again?" Dezerae flushed bright red, biting back their cough of embarrassment with being found out.
"Uhm.. Yeah." They waited for Fallon to respond, if she was going to, a nervous edge crawling into their mind. "Watch your step, by the way. You're near me. I don't want to have to carry both of you to the infirmary." Dezerae nodded to the Oracle in his arms, who seemed... Comfortable enough, for being coma-like in condition at the very moment.

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