Eisenhorn

Miso City Secondary: Escapades and Dramas?

Height: 5'11"

Weight: 193 lbs

Hair Color: Black

Eye Color: Blue

Name: Gregor Stukov

Age: 19

Personality: Stukov, for being a foreign exchange student from Russia, is a rather happy and well spoken individual. Generally grinning and referring to people by nicknames he gifts unto them (In both English, Russian, and otherwise). He is often times grinning and laughing, making some bad and off color joke of one sort or another. He has a bad habit of dragging people around him into what he honestly and his Boss sarcastically call 'Adventures!', which often lead to something going wrong since this is Miso City, after all. But Stukov remains almost sickeningly upbeat and happy throughout all of it, hiding a rather cunning wit and rapier sharp intelligence beneath it. Probably hidden by all the obfuscating stupidity and disarming optimism and happiness, both of these most likely not fooling his Boss, although he keeps it up anyway long after its been pierced, just to be annoying.

Abilities (Uniqueness): Stukov boasts two unusual skills. One, he seems to have an unusual knowledge and practical experience with the occult in general, and seems to be able to apply this to various effects. Secondly, he plays cello, rather well, and hides an old officer's sabre in a hidden compartment under the instrument which he claims he is rather dangerous with when someone finds it. But whether he is, or just bluffing, no one has yet to see.

Other: Beyond his cello case, which is almost always on him somehow, he has a black book that he refuses to let anyone see and can be seen studying before pulling off strange stunts. He also has his lucky coin, a russian denomination that doesn't look like anything ever minted in the history of Russia or the USSR, for that matter. It doesn't even match any records from Tsar ruled Russia and prior, making it another enigma on top of the pile.

Mass Effect: The Regulators

@Plank Sinatra He's approved, feel free to post him over in the character tab, at your earliest convenience.

Project Freelancer

Penn was fairly silent as the prep work and chatter between the group going in and the piloting aspect of the mission was going on. He was getting into his mission mindset, and that meant far less companionable then he might have been, say, a few hours ago. The plan to plant the Mongoose in a high damage location, such as the Gunnery Deck, wasn't a bad idea and he shrugged as he stood up, making sure he had everything on him. The suggestion was sound and he said as much as he watched the other team members space jump across the way, Cal guiding South and he kept quiet, wondering how well her getting back would be. Cal might not be available for that, which would make things hairy, to say the least. "Don't see why not, Cal, long as they don't question the vehicle on their weapons deck at all. Or they see it before we have to detonate it. Those are the two biggest concerns I see with that."

This of course left Penn to his own thoughts and actions as everyone seemed to crowd their way up to the cockpit. Wannabe flyboys, he thought with an amused smirk, turning to refine the work he had done on the Mongoose, maximizing the damage it would do while minimizing its volatility as much as he could. Which wasn't much, the damn thing was a deathtrap now. Well, it was a deathtrap before, no protection and no arms on the thing, but now even one round that missed would wipe more than just the 'goose out. He wasn't a fan of the things, not personally or professionally. Scout vehicles, that was about all they were good for. He would take a Warthog or even a civilian truck of some sort over that thing any day of the week. No, he thought honestly, if he had his say in the matter, he would sooner send a tank in and level whatever the place was. Or, for this mission, just rig the ship's reactor to go critical and send the ship into its death throes. But no, it was scouting and chaos if called for. And Cal's idea was good for that, so he was ready to roll the bombgoose out, as he was calling it now, whenever.

Deep Ground

"Sable, I am here precisely when I intended to arrive."

Standing behind the apprentice was Colonel Atreides, standing behind Sable like he had always been there the whole time. A lit cigar was firmly held onto by the man, who was puffing smoke out in the cool air of the lot they were meeting up in. The entire worldly possessions that he carried around were firmly on his back, all concealed with some minor tech upgrades. Nothing fancy, just kept people from noticing the unusual. But they could not hang around, even in an agreed LZ spot, and with a nod, motioned for her to follow along. They could not afford too much attention being drawn on them or the organization, which was joke but a hope spot for folks, so it was left as is for their sake as much as their own.

"That dreamer routine you got going is not healthy, rook. What's the problem?"

The Colonel was concerned for Sable and her well being on both a personal, as a mentor, and professional, as fellow comrade in arms, level. They could ill afford either of them not being able to focus on the situation at hand due to strange day dreaming occurances. Another situation, he would be burying his partner. And that would not sit well with the veteran sniper. The man was not one for speeches, not without a damn good reason for it, they generally wasted time and were far wordier than any of them had any interest in dealing with. He could do the same with fewer words, therefor, it was more efficient and better than some big damn speech.

If the whole resistance movement was larger than both of them, he would consider more speeches or better ones already, but that was for groups. This wasn't a group, it was a partnership against a corrupt corporation, simple as that. Well, on paper, simple. In practice, it had been quite rough for both of them a couple times, got far too close to detection of capture. But they lucked out either way whenever the cards were down, and they kept slipping the noose whenever it fell around their necks. How long that would last, though, was anyone's guess.

"There is not any more work for us, not today, so we will have to hunker down then. And go into far greater detail on your day dreaming.""

None of it was a question, the Colonel was not needing an opinion on taking cover and night ops when he was assigned to both on a highly regular basis he cannot discuss. Not in this case, although he would routinely defer and let the rook think for herself and figure it out. It was a good skill to have drilled into one's head, as few times as possible. It was a long time ago, however, and now all it helped with was controlling and fighting corrupt corporations and organizations. Useful for where it came from, at least.

Fire Emblem: Light's End

Jerod

Jerod grumbled and made a familiar, and highly offensive, gesture at Niya before finding a place to seat himself and check over himself, mopping away a lot of blood that, thankfully, was not his. Then he winced, finding the spearhead lodged in his left side, and grumbled under his breath as he looked about, seeing no vulneries or healers free at the moment. Well, that was inconvenient, to put it mildly. The other folk seemed busy with their own work, so he would have to patch himself up, as usual. Biting down on a piece of metal, he grimaced as he removed the metal spearhead from his midriff, ripping off a part of his cloak to tie off the wound, keeping anymore blood from pouring out. It wasn't a great patch, but he didn't have time to find a fire and sear it shut, or a sewing kit and stitch it shut. So he bound it to the point of being nearly unbearable, which was better than bleeding out. He would find a more permenant fix for it later, right now, he needed to be ready to fight at a moment's notice. Feroxians had the wall plugged, probably with the dead of both sides. That would reek before too long, he thought with a snort. Which hurt, and that meant he was going to be feeling the worst of it before too long. Great, one more thing on top of the whole situation so far, and he sounded off from his sitting position.

"'ow long d' ye plan t' 'ave us sittin' 'round fer, lad? B'tween t'em Feroxians an' th' stark ravin' mad cultists, sittin' out 'ere ain' the wisest o' plans."

---

Niya

Niya hauled herself back onto her horse, the prisoner stabilized and taken care of. She refused to spare Jerod a second look right now, although it was not because she was concerned about getting emotional. Well, emotional in the sense of spite, but that was neither here nor there. She kept a careful watch for anyone who was not them heading their way, friend, foe, unknown, or anything in between for that matter. The cavalryman spoke on not splitting up again, and she shrugged briefly before putting her two cents in on the matter, speaking little beyond that considering it was not her place to, nor was it to try to overrule the tactician's ideas and plans.

"If I may, if we must split, send cavalry to remove the prisoner. They will get there and back faster. Fighting near the wall, not a quick and dynamic front yet. Not cavalry territory normally."

Mass Effect: The Regulators (Interest Check for ME2 era RP)

OOC Time

Mass Effect: The Regulators

Omega, often described as the answer that the Terminus Systems dreamed up as a dark, twisted counterpart to the Citadel station that lies within Council space, has known countless criminal empires rise and fall upon its streets. Rulers change hands on occassion, the most current being Aria T'Loak, former lieutenant of the former ruler of Omega. Such blood is spilt on a regular basis to maintain rule over the dark heart of Terminus, had been dealing with the three largest Gangs on Omega since her take over. The Blue Suns, Blood Pact, and Eclipse were the three biggest besides Aria’s own syndicate organization that, in her own word’s, ‘Was Omega’. Then a legend came back from the dead, Commander Shepard, and in one fell swoop he wiped out the main strength of all three organizations in saving one individual known to Omega as Archangel, leaving a power vacuum. One that Aria was eager to fill.

So, discreetly, she founded a new mercenary organization to take over. The new mercenary company would not overtly work for Aria, although their leader would indeed have a direct link to Aria for anything that would do her good to know about. The Regulators, a simple name hiding a complex design and process. They would only be one small team, patterned after another rather unusual success. A small team of some of the best available specialists, soldiers, and technicians would be Aria’s personal hit team when called upon, otherwise working on bringing in extra currency for her coffers while being paid and having gear covered by the head of Omega itself.

---

So this is planned to be a small group of players, no more than 6-8 at the absolute maximum, playing the roles of various members of Aria’s newly formed Regulators. This is going to be kicking off shortly after, as that little bit of fluff above showed, just after Shepard left after completing the mission to rescue Archangel. So, ME2 level tech and equipment, anything introduced after ME2 won’t be showing up, not initially at any rate. A few rules and guidelines before we get into better stuff.

1. My, and the Co-GM’s, word is law, first and foremost. We will be reasonable, certainly, and aren’t here to make this a miserable chore, but if we deny something or nudge things in one direction or another, we have a reason for what we do.

2. Should go without saying, but godmodding, metagaming, stuff like that, not cool.

3. Yes, this team forms some of the best that Aria can find, and a lot of casual mooks won’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell of surviving. But some enemies are above any one of us taking on, keep that in mind, no one is invulnerable to all harm.

4. There will only be 6-8 for the RP, tops. There are a few people who have spots reserved, so it is going to be a first come, first serve basis beyond that.

5. Real life happens, it sucks, we all know this. Give either me or the Co-GM a heads up when you can, and there is no problem holding your spot. Don’t do that after a couple days of no posting or activity period, we reserve the right to feed your character to the Krogan.

6. I don’t expect whole books of content for posts, but try to keep at least one paragraph per post, and while frequent posting is encouraged, don’t trample someone and ignore them in the process if at all possible.

7. Oh, and romance is fine and all, certainly, but keep the steamier stuff past kissing out in the PM's, yea? We don't need to see your Krogan on Hanar action.

Alright, now onto a CS for folks who want to get started ASAP.

Name:
Species:
Gender:
Age:

Physical Description: Image or Written is fine, but at least a paragraph for this, two is recommended if possible.
Psychological Profile: Who are they as a person, under fire, off the job, waiting for the inevitable to happen, what defines them as a unique being, from a psychological point of view.

Class: Kind of a general defining direction here, what is their job?
Skills: What talents and ‘powers’ do they usually have and use?
Equipment: Remember, this is ME2, nothing from ME3 will be accepted right now. And be reasonable, you are no Shepard, walking armory extraordinaire. Some people will be able to carry more than others, for various reasons.

History: Two paragraphs here, describe their past, what they’ve done that would have gotten them selected for the Regulators, how they came to be the kind of sort that would even be employed in such a group.

Mass Effect: The Regulators (Interest Check for ME2 era RP)

Looks like I'll have to get an OOC up then, it seems. I'll be cutting it off after Plank Sinatra, but if people drop, it will be open again until the previous number was filled.

@AuntFlavia: I'm going to have to turn down an Elcor. Besides a statement on walking tanks, I don't recall any information on actual armaments, armor, stuff like that ever being given out, which would make that a less than simplistic task, to say the least.

Mass Effect: The Regulators (Interest Check for ME2 era RP)

Omega, often described as the answer that the Terminus Systems dreamed up as a dark, twisted counterpart to the Citadel station that lies within Council space, has known countless criminal empires rise and fall upon its streets. Rulers change hands on occassion, the most current being Aria T'Loak, former lieutenant of the former ruler of Omega. Such blood is spilt on a regular basis to maintain rule over the dark heart of Terminus, had been dealing with the three largest Gangs on Omega since her take over. The Blue Suns, Blood Pact, and Eclipse were the three biggest besides Aria’s own syndicate organization that, in her own word’s, ‘Was Omega’. Then a legend came back from the dead, Commander Shepard, and in one fell swoop he wiped out the main strength of all three organizations in saving one individual known to Omega as Archangel, leaving a power vacuum. One that Aria was eager to fill.

So, discreetly, she founded a new mercenary organization to take over. The new mercenary company would not overtly work for Aria, although their leader would indeed have a direct link to Aria for anything that would do her good to know about. The Regulators, a simple name hiding a complex design and process. They would only be one small team, patterned after another rather unusual success. A small team of some of the best available specialists, soldiers, and technicians would be Aria’s personal hit team when called upon, otherwise working on bringing in extra currency for her coffers while being paid and having gear covered by the head of Omega itself.

---

So this is planned to be a small group of players, no more than 6-8 at the absolute maximum, playing the roles of various members of Aria’s newly formed Regulators. This is going to be kicking off shortly after, as that little bit of fluff above showed, just after Shepard left after completing the mission to rescue Archangel. So, ME2 level tech and equipment, anything introduced after ME2 won’t be showing up, not initially at any rate. A few rules and guidelines before we get into better stuff.

1. My, and the Co-GM’s, word is law, first and foremost. We will be reasonable, certainly, and aren’t here to make this a miserable chore, but if we deny something or nudge things in one direction or another, we have a reason for what we do.

2. Should go without saying, but godmodding, metagaming, stuff like that, not cool.

3. Yes, this team forms some of the best that Aria can find, and a lot of casual mooks won’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell of surviving. But some enemies are above any one of us taking on, keep that in mind, no one is invulnerable to all harm.

4. There will only be 6-8 for the RP, tops. There are a few people who have spots reserved, so it is going to be a first come, first serve basis beyond that.

5. Real life happens, it sucks, we all know this. Give either me or the Co-GM a heads up when you can, and there is no problem holding your spot. Don’t do that after a couple days of no posting or activity period, we reserve the right to feed your character to the Krogan.

6. I don’t expect whole books of content for posts, but try to keep at least one paragraph per post, and while frequent posting is encouraged, don’t trample someone and ignore them in the process if at all possible.

7. Oh, and romance is fine and all, certainly, but keep the steamier stuff past kissing out in the PM's, yea? We don't need to see your Krogan on Hanar action.

Alright, now onto a CS for folks who want to get started ASAP.

Name:
Species:
Gender:
Age:

Physical Description: Image or Written is fine, but at least a paragraph for this, two is recommended if possible.
Psychological Profile: Who are they as a person, under fire, off the job, waiting for the inevitable to happen, what defines them as a unique being, from a psychological point of view.

Class: Kind of a general defining direction here, what is their job?
Skills: What talents and ‘powers’ do they usually have and use?
Equipment: Remember, this is ME2, nothing from ME3 will be accepted right now. And be reasonable, you are no Shepard, walking armory extraordinaire. Some people will be able to carry more than others, for various reasons.

History: Two paragraphs here, describe their past, what they’ve done that would have gotten them selected for the Regulators, how they came to be the kind of sort that would even be employed in such a group.

Deep Ground

Colonel Atreides was watching the vitals that were being reported from the kit that Sable was carrying, noting her detachment from reality. That was not a good thing, and while he was not yelling, the soft speaking sniper officer was firm with his subtly accented drawl, something akin to old Earth southern.

"Sable, welcome back to the land of reality. Good shot on target, I'll take the last one."

The older man rose from his position, unslinging a far smaller rifle than his partner and apprentice used, but always seemed to keep up with, at worse. Much to the chagrin of many. It was far more readily handled and agile, and he crept across the rooftop of his location, settling in a different spot and casually setting his rifle sight for maximum distance. Which was quite a ways away, if one thought about it, but it was one of those kind of shots.

Some corporate clowns had went and backed the big dog for the hopes of scraps from the dinner table, but thse same fellows were not the kind of resources that certain fellows would want them having. So this one was the last, and from the panic, it was clear that they were expecting the shot to come from within the range of the sound barrier breaking, and the noise it crated, keeping up. This shot, not so much, as he zeroed it in on his target, making adjustments as needed. Wind, nil, gravity, already accounted for. Distance, several ticks up on the sight, he was locked in.

The rifle kicked against his shoulder as it fired, the round moving in agonizing slow motion, agonizing to some. He knew the shot was going to connect, so he watched the round spin slowly through the air, eventually burrowing into the last man's head, carrying the remains of his head and brains out the back, and Atreides exhaled, time resuming its normal speed. It was a sense of time that was as many parts natural as it was learned, and he had it bad. Just holding his breath made everything almost stop. Good for split second moments

"That is that, come on back over Sable. We need to talk."