Well, I might not be at home atm, but I'll get onto a post and have one up tonight at the latest.
Eisenhorn
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The rattling of the turret finally fusing into a mess of permanent disuse prompted the Demolition Experts retreat as much as the yelling from the rest of the team. Penn bolted, the weapon glowing and steaming from the abuse that it had just been put under. Empty launcher on his back, mostly spent pistols on his hips, and not one explosive left from what he brought aboard gave him an edge in the speed category he normally didn't have. Usually he had a lot more gear, and weight from that gear, slowing him down. Even so, the reinforced armor did not help in this case, more rounds starting to get closer, the last burst of suppressing fire from Cal gave him the cover he needed to get aboard the ship alongside the rest of the team, scooping up his comrade's fallen helmet in one arm, turning and opening fire with his suppressed pistol in the other, breathing hard but not broadcasting that needless white noise. He replied to North as if the man had just idly asked for the weather.
"Agent Penn, aboard. Loose helmet, secured. Explosives, spent. Primary weapon, spent. Secondary, below 25% ammunition left. Superficial and outer layer damage to armor. Still capable of maintaining seal against space vacuum." Brief, concise status report on his situation was all that was needed right now. He would keep firing his sidearm until they lifted off, or he ran completely dry on that too, whichever came first. From the look of things, Carolina needed to get back to see proper first aid. Not surprising, looking at the injury. Mental note for himself to repair the armor and not take any shortcuts, so that did not happen to him needlessly.
"Agent Penn, aboard. Loose helmet, secured. Explosives, spent. Primary weapon, spent. Secondary, below 25% ammunition left. Superficial and outer layer damage to armor. Still capable of maintaining seal against space vacuum." Brief, concise status report on his situation was all that was needed right now. He would keep firing his sidearm until they lifted off, or he ran completely dry on that too, whichever came first. From the look of things, Carolina needed to get back to see proper first aid. Not surprising, looking at the injury. Mental note for himself to repair the armor and not take any shortcuts, so that did not happen to him needlessly.
"Understood, manning the gun."
Penn was either unconcerned, or too focused, to seem worried about the wound that one of his squadmates had suffered. Whatever the case may be, the man wasted no time rolling from the damaged Mongoose he had been sheltered behind to grab onto the machine gun that had just been abandoned due to combat injuries. Several of the oncoming forces seemed to try to stop Agent Pennsylvania by focusing fire on the gun mount, but to their dismay, the reinforced armor that the demo expert wore was made of sterner stuff then that of his fellow agents. Some of the rounds made it through the extra layers, but not the whole way. Which was good, considering where the medical attention was focused right now, additional injuries were hardly needed. The weapon started spitting a wave of lead downrange towards the guards, and he swept the torrent of fire across the ranks and heads of the enemies approaching the Pelican. Suppression was preferable to sheer carnage right now, they needed to buy enough time for the Pelican to get clear. The suppression fire seemed to work, as he was taking less accurate, effective fire as the enemies scrambled for cover. Wouldn't last long though, not once this thing ran out of ammo or overheated, whichever hit first.
"Might want to get moving before we run out of ammo. Or this thing melts down from the heat generation. Or both. Both is bad."
Penn was either unconcerned, or too focused, to seem worried about the wound that one of his squadmates had suffered. Whatever the case may be, the man wasted no time rolling from the damaged Mongoose he had been sheltered behind to grab onto the machine gun that had just been abandoned due to combat injuries. Several of the oncoming forces seemed to try to stop Agent Pennsylvania by focusing fire on the gun mount, but to their dismay, the reinforced armor that the demo expert wore was made of sterner stuff then that of his fellow agents. Some of the rounds made it through the extra layers, but not the whole way. Which was good, considering where the medical attention was focused right now, additional injuries were hardly needed. The weapon started spitting a wave of lead downrange towards the guards, and he swept the torrent of fire across the ranks and heads of the enemies approaching the Pelican. Suppression was preferable to sheer carnage right now, they needed to buy enough time for the Pelican to get clear. The suppression fire seemed to work, as he was taking less accurate, effective fire as the enemies scrambled for cover. Wouldn't last long though, not once this thing ran out of ammo or overheated, whichever hit first.
"Might want to get moving before we run out of ammo. Or this thing melts down from the heat generation. Or both. Both is bad."
@Eisenhorn
You get like, +100000 for the Artorias pic
I have been quite the fan of Dark Souls since it dropped way back when, still play both DS1 and 2 (And some Demon Souls when I get the chance to rig up the PS3), so it seemed like too good a chance to pass up.
There, that took a bit longer then anticipated, but the CS is up now.
Name: Alexander Atreides
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Age: 42
Title/Nickname: The Wanderer
Kingdom of birth: Born to the dark forests inbetween kingdoms.
Worship: Sworn to the god Steel.
Appearance:
Magical affinity:
Primary: Steel
Secondary: Shadow
Skills:
Atreides is a cautious, methodical fighter who approahces each battle with care and focus. Never to underestimate and never one to waste time mincing words with his foes, the Wanderer has two very distinct styles of combat, but both have points that can be drawn from both. He is a strong and, facing single foes, deceptively fast fighter, able to bring overwhelming force upon single foes, and sweeping devastation against massed foes, and it takes several moments to move from one stance to the other, which can be a weakpoint if spotted. The man uses his shadow magic to create fear in foes, each blow they might land billowing black, twisted shadows rather than blood, only adding to the illusion of a juggernaut of inhuman nature.
When facing massed numbers of foes, Atreides takes his grand blade and wields it in wide, sweeping blows that carry great weight and power, carving swathes of damage with each blow. While this stance can keep large numbers at bay, this is a foolhardy approach towards fast, single targets as they can easily dance around the swinging blows. To further dissuade foes from trying to move in between sweeps, black shadows billow from the blade and armor of the Wanderer, creating a nightmare image towards common thugs and warriors. This stance cannot rightly hold off an army for too long, as it expends energy, both arcane and physical, at a sometimes alarming rate. The stance is as many parts scaring away the massed numbers of foes as it is killing as many, and one would therefore, perhaps rightly, assume he is more comfortable in a single fight then facing massed armies alone.
When facing a single, skilled foe, such grand theatrics and wide, sweeping blows are ill suited. When coming against such a foe, Atreides must arrest his momentum from such wild swings and shift into his other stance, a more deliberate and calculating stance, each blow far more controlled, and rarely equal in savage strength to the former stance, but far more reliable and safe for himself in the long run. This control and precision costs him when swarmed, and the moments it takes to get momentum up can be dangerous to the man within if taken advantage of. Enemies who are equals in skill that can last long fights also are dangerous, even in this stance, as it seems for each strong and controlled blow Atreides makes in this form, it is not unusual to see such duels last far too long, as the caution he holds in this stance might sacrifice chances at ending the conflict sooner.
Equipment:
Ancestoral Plate Armor: A family heirloom, or so Atreides claims, the armor has a far darker origin, having been worn at the time of his whole blood families death by something that the current owner refuses to identify, letting rumors abound.
Old Grandblade: Bearing no name, this weapon is older than its current owner by many generations, and has long become attuned with the shadows that are often en-scrolled around its blade, to the degree that only Shadow and Steel spheres of magic can be channeled through it, other magic failing to even manifest from its blade.
Favorite spells:
Shadow Form: Far more intricate then the name would give away, the form simply hides the injuries to flesh and blood, that punch through his armor, by issuing out blinding, disoreintating shadow, while each stroke of his blade painted inky shadows like paint on canvas. The man is indeed but flesh and bone beneath his armor, and the shadows may be but momentary distractions to the wise, but what foe needs to know that?
Steel Form: By taking the lost equipment of the dead, or rarely volunteered, he can reform the damage done to his own armor and blade, creating the illusion of this shadowy knight walking through a field of dead men, armor rotting away and restoring the form of the Atreides. Smoke and mirrors, maybe, but a battle lost in the mind is already lost before swords are crossed.
Character backround history: The black forests between kingdoms hold a many great secret, some hostile to the kingdoms of the realm, some not so much. The Wanderer Alexnader Atreides is one such enigma. Born to lordless natives within the forests, they survived by cunning and guile alone, walking the paths unwelcome to most. Such wanderers could stumble upon things better left undiscovered, and as a young Atreides would find out, the armor and blade that are his trademarks were such a thing. In a hidden, abandoned place in such lands, a decrepit keep was found by the Atreides brood, both father, mother, and various children of age were scouting for new paths to use between the kingdoms. Such hidden paths out of sight of the kingdoms were always valuable, as they could escape most common troops and thugs such ways, if the needs demanded it. Opening the place, against the warnings in place, the wanderers found an apparently decrepit suit of armor and ruined blade, both of which arose as if possessed.
The blade and armor claimed all he held dear at the time, his small family of wanderers all, in a fierce series of clashes that left the young boy injured but undaunted. He stood in the dark place, torch in one hand, blade in the other. His wounds were grave, but he refused to let his own hubris and mistakes free the shadows within. The torch did him no good, nor did the blade, leaving him with his own affinities of shadow and steel. Reforming his blade from the ruined equipment of his family, and hiding his own place with the shadows against those of the armor, the clash lasted far longer than it should have. The ultimate outcome was the man's survival, but the details are kept vague. Some might think Steel interceded on his behalf, against all odds as the only hope he had of survival. Others, that the armor accepted the grief stricken young man as its new keeper, a curse hidden as a blessing, or a reward costing too much. Whatever the truth may be, the Wanderer would not speak of it, instead cautioning those who would walk hidden paths to tread carefully, as some things were not meant to be found again.
Whatever the truth, as dangerous or harmless as it may be, Atreides eventually walked out of the dark places between kingdoms, crossing paths with the Order of Arcane Knights. He followed them back to their temple, where he swore service unending to the Order. Whether this was an attempt to atone for his failures, or to free himself prematurely in glorious battle, has yet to be seen. But whatever the task given, he would see it out to completion, regardless of the cost to himself or others. This has made him a mixed blessing when arriving somewhere. A blessing, as a situation would be resolved by the Order. A curse, as the resolution might not be as clean or kind as some might hope. But he follows his orders to the letter, and if that means violence or peace, it means little either way to Atreides. Or seems to mean little, his tales usually don't add up completely, leaving others to wonder how much truth is within that armor. Or, to some, how much man remains within that old armor.
By my knighthood I swear: On Steel and Shadow do I swear fealty until death and beyond its cold grasp.
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Age: 42
Title/Nickname: The Wanderer
Kingdom of birth: Born to the dark forests inbetween kingdoms.
Worship: Sworn to the god Steel.
Appearance:
Magical affinity:
Primary: Steel
Secondary: Shadow
Skills:
Atreides is a cautious, methodical fighter who approahces each battle with care and focus. Never to underestimate and never one to waste time mincing words with his foes, the Wanderer has two very distinct styles of combat, but both have points that can be drawn from both. He is a strong and, facing single foes, deceptively fast fighter, able to bring overwhelming force upon single foes, and sweeping devastation against massed foes, and it takes several moments to move from one stance to the other, which can be a weakpoint if spotted. The man uses his shadow magic to create fear in foes, each blow they might land billowing black, twisted shadows rather than blood, only adding to the illusion of a juggernaut of inhuman nature.
When facing massed numbers of foes, Atreides takes his grand blade and wields it in wide, sweeping blows that carry great weight and power, carving swathes of damage with each blow. While this stance can keep large numbers at bay, this is a foolhardy approach towards fast, single targets as they can easily dance around the swinging blows. To further dissuade foes from trying to move in between sweeps, black shadows billow from the blade and armor of the Wanderer, creating a nightmare image towards common thugs and warriors. This stance cannot rightly hold off an army for too long, as it expends energy, both arcane and physical, at a sometimes alarming rate. The stance is as many parts scaring away the massed numbers of foes as it is killing as many, and one would therefore, perhaps rightly, assume he is more comfortable in a single fight then facing massed armies alone.
When facing a single, skilled foe, such grand theatrics and wide, sweeping blows are ill suited. When coming against such a foe, Atreides must arrest his momentum from such wild swings and shift into his other stance, a more deliberate and calculating stance, each blow far more controlled, and rarely equal in savage strength to the former stance, but far more reliable and safe for himself in the long run. This control and precision costs him when swarmed, and the moments it takes to get momentum up can be dangerous to the man within if taken advantage of. Enemies who are equals in skill that can last long fights also are dangerous, even in this stance, as it seems for each strong and controlled blow Atreides makes in this form, it is not unusual to see such duels last far too long, as the caution he holds in this stance might sacrifice chances at ending the conflict sooner.
Equipment:
Ancestoral Plate Armor: A family heirloom, or so Atreides claims, the armor has a far darker origin, having been worn at the time of his whole blood families death by something that the current owner refuses to identify, letting rumors abound.
Old Grandblade: Bearing no name, this weapon is older than its current owner by many generations, and has long become attuned with the shadows that are often en-scrolled around its blade, to the degree that only Shadow and Steel spheres of magic can be channeled through it, other magic failing to even manifest from its blade.
Favorite spells:
Shadow Form: Far more intricate then the name would give away, the form simply hides the injuries to flesh and blood, that punch through his armor, by issuing out blinding, disoreintating shadow, while each stroke of his blade painted inky shadows like paint on canvas. The man is indeed but flesh and bone beneath his armor, and the shadows may be but momentary distractions to the wise, but what foe needs to know that?
Steel Form: By taking the lost equipment of the dead, or rarely volunteered, he can reform the damage done to his own armor and blade, creating the illusion of this shadowy knight walking through a field of dead men, armor rotting away and restoring the form of the Atreides. Smoke and mirrors, maybe, but a battle lost in the mind is already lost before swords are crossed.
Character backround history: The black forests between kingdoms hold a many great secret, some hostile to the kingdoms of the realm, some not so much. The Wanderer Alexnader Atreides is one such enigma. Born to lordless natives within the forests, they survived by cunning and guile alone, walking the paths unwelcome to most. Such wanderers could stumble upon things better left undiscovered, and as a young Atreides would find out, the armor and blade that are his trademarks were such a thing. In a hidden, abandoned place in such lands, a decrepit keep was found by the Atreides brood, both father, mother, and various children of age were scouting for new paths to use between the kingdoms. Such hidden paths out of sight of the kingdoms were always valuable, as they could escape most common troops and thugs such ways, if the needs demanded it. Opening the place, against the warnings in place, the wanderers found an apparently decrepit suit of armor and ruined blade, both of which arose as if possessed.
The blade and armor claimed all he held dear at the time, his small family of wanderers all, in a fierce series of clashes that left the young boy injured but undaunted. He stood in the dark place, torch in one hand, blade in the other. His wounds were grave, but he refused to let his own hubris and mistakes free the shadows within. The torch did him no good, nor did the blade, leaving him with his own affinities of shadow and steel. Reforming his blade from the ruined equipment of his family, and hiding his own place with the shadows against those of the armor, the clash lasted far longer than it should have. The ultimate outcome was the man's survival, but the details are kept vague. Some might think Steel interceded on his behalf, against all odds as the only hope he had of survival. Others, that the armor accepted the grief stricken young man as its new keeper, a curse hidden as a blessing, or a reward costing too much. Whatever the truth may be, the Wanderer would not speak of it, instead cautioning those who would walk hidden paths to tread carefully, as some things were not meant to be found again.
Whatever the truth, as dangerous or harmless as it may be, Atreides eventually walked out of the dark places between kingdoms, crossing paths with the Order of Arcane Knights. He followed them back to their temple, where he swore service unending to the Order. Whether this was an attempt to atone for his failures, or to free himself prematurely in glorious battle, has yet to be seen. But whatever the task given, he would see it out to completion, regardless of the cost to himself or others. This has made him a mixed blessing when arriving somewhere. A blessing, as a situation would be resolved by the Order. A curse, as the resolution might not be as clean or kind as some might hope. But he follows his orders to the letter, and if that means violence or peace, it means little either way to Atreides. Or seems to mean little, his tales usually don't add up completely, leaving others to wonder how much truth is within that armor. Or, to some, how much man remains within that old armor.
By my knighthood I swear: On Steel and Shadow do I swear fealty until death and beyond its cold grasp.
Alrighty, getting onto a CS now, it all looks like good stuff to work from.
Seems like it could be interesting, to say the least. I'm game.
Penn had, once prepping the Bombgoose for its final destination, watched as Carolina opened up on the guards and took off. Penn had another plan, heading for the higher decks of the armory, skulking along at the commotion and laying down the rest of his explosives in the undamaged ammo lines. Calmly walking, he heard yelling behind him and several rounds pinged by him, including off his armor. Well, that was rude, he turned and raised his grenade launcher towards the offending security personnel. The paintjob didn't come cheap, after all. The weapon's familiar recoil thumped into his shoulder as he sent the grenade apparently wide of its target, the round detonating and setting off another chain reaction of explosions that he had just so carefully laid out. Just as planned. Of course, the ammo cooking off took care of the people coming after him, but that was icing on the cake, as it were.
Glancing down towards the main deck of the armory, he spotted the prototype flying along and Penn rolled his eyes as he hopped down an access hatch and grabbed the Mongoose that was not already well and gone beyond anything he would ever want to be near right now. Kicking it into gear he sped out near the Mantis and made a loose saluting gesture towards Carolina, before pointing the grenade launcher back and launching another round back and effectively dumping grenades behind him, pins obviously not in place to prevent their detonation. This added to the chaos of their escape, as did pretty much every explosive device that Penn had left being dumped and detonated as hostiles chasing them reached each impromptu landmine. Between that and the rapidly depleted Mantis, it created quite the nightmare for the enemy forces. Arriving at the Pelican alongside the Mantis, he pulled up in the Mongoose and turned it to provide some small cover, kneeling behind it and starting to fire every last grenade he had for his launcher towards enemy groups, and when he ran dry on those, fell back on his pistols and took his time firing those, making rounds count.
"Penn, reporting."
Glancing down towards the main deck of the armory, he spotted the prototype flying along and Penn rolled his eyes as he hopped down an access hatch and grabbed the Mongoose that was not already well and gone beyond anything he would ever want to be near right now. Kicking it into gear he sped out near the Mantis and made a loose saluting gesture towards Carolina, before pointing the grenade launcher back and launching another round back and effectively dumping grenades behind him, pins obviously not in place to prevent their detonation. This added to the chaos of their escape, as did pretty much every explosive device that Penn had left being dumped and detonated as hostiles chasing them reached each impromptu landmine. Between that and the rapidly depleted Mantis, it created quite the nightmare for the enemy forces. Arriving at the Pelican alongside the Mantis, he pulled up in the Mongoose and turned it to provide some small cover, kneeling behind it and starting to fire every last grenade he had for his launcher towards enemy groups, and when he ran dry on those, fell back on his pistols and took his time firing those, making rounds count.
"Penn, reporting."
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