Another meeting, one of the few things to not have changed along with the world. this time it had been a usual meeting, detailing shift rotations, the maintenance of the international force, and what reports they had gotten in over the radio detailing the situation of the various other fronts. It had been long, somewhat boring, and now it was time to get to the actual work.
Roche exited the meeting room, tugging at his jacket as he moved into the streets of Calais. So much different, yet there was still that sameness that had been present when he last visited the city, before the invasion, before the world was cast to the brink of darkness. So much missing from the skyline, including the Cathedral of Notre Dame, which had been demolished when it was realized that these things were coming from religious buildings, as if it's destruction would prevent whatever had happened. Still, it seemed to have worked in that regard, though if there'd been anyone around to attend mass was not his place to say. He himself had abandoned the faith, preferring to place his trust in the ingenuity and resources of humanity to weather this night. God had abandoned them, so they only had each other to draw on. the people went about their business, and it was only the overbearing presence of swords and bows that would hint you as to the war raging across the globe.
It was the dying of the lights that changed things, and when they did not come back it sent the passerbyers and himself into a frenzy of motion, people moving to get to secure locations while he headed for the armory to get his gear and then link up with his squad. The Beats were coming then, time for another fight. He quickly made his way to his locker, changing the leather jacket for the official white that got a slightly disapproving look from him before it put it on. Oh, the symbolism was all well and fine, but it was a pain in the ass to keep the dang thing clean. Which was why he much preferred his old uniform, it hid the stains better.
Properly dressed, he grabbed his weapons. A combat knife first, well taken care of for when you had no other choice, then a hand-and-a-half sword, for the various methods of fighting, for the power of a two handed chop, but could be used with a single hand as well. Well taken care of, and sharp as nails at that. Then the med kit, and the other things he needed, and he was good to go. After making sure he had everything, he headed out to the marshaling ground, to meet up with his squad and get ready to fight some hell beasts.
Flamelord Member
STATUS: Going in a trip over the weekend. Will be back on Sunday, probably no RP posts until then 9 yrs ago
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9 yrs ago
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Going in a trip over the weekend. Will be back on Sunday, probably no RP posts until then
9 yrs ago
>That awkward moment when you learn the religious revival movement you were headin was actually a vehicle for a Lovecraftian Abomination masquerading as a God to jack your body and take over the world
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9 yrs ago
>That moment when you realize that you can only do fandom RPs because you're bad at original characters. This is what I get for never playing DnD
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Most Recent Posts
Thomas is resting in his room, Reno/Oner, is in the Mirror realm doing stuff, and everyone else is in the Sandlot of Twilight Town, talking and signing up for the Struggle Tournament.
Thomas laid motionless in bed, practically lifeless with blankets casually pulled over him, He was tired, his heart hurt, it had been a long night. his attempts to sleep ruined by the thoughts running through his mind, keeping him from finding some release as he closed his eyes fruitlessly. His stomach rumbled as well, his last meal skipped since he hadn't felt hungry at the time and hadn't had the energy, didn't want to risk seeing someone he knew and having them see him in return, the haunted look in his eyes. He was supposed to be their leader, but how could they have trust in his ability to make decisions when he didn't have that confidence in himself anymore? He'd never felt more vulnerable and exposed, now that his walls had been shattered.
If such a thing were possible, there would be a hole in the ceiling now from how his lifeless eyes bored into it, his mind preoccupied with trying to find out who he was, forced to relive all his past experiences, his failures, his mediocrity. He had to toss out the labels for himself, the things he thought were morals he'd wanted to follow. Was there any point to it all? Maybe the keyblade had made a mistake, if those things could....
He sighed as another thought occurred to him, light from the window falling across his form. The others would be expecting to see him sometime today, perhaps at the Struggle Tournament, and his non presence would send people looking for him, and he didn't need people dropping in on him unannounced while he wanted to be alone. But at the same time he found it difficult to work up the will to actually get up and go there, lacking in motivation. He supposed he would have to go, would have to resume the show he knew was a lie now, a fake smile for the audience to convince them nothing was wrong when he didn't feel right at all.
At last his mind reached a decision and he shifted, trying to keep his eyes closed once again. He'd go. Later.
If such a thing were possible, there would be a hole in the ceiling now from how his lifeless eyes bored into it, his mind preoccupied with trying to find out who he was, forced to relive all his past experiences, his failures, his mediocrity. He had to toss out the labels for himself, the things he thought were morals he'd wanted to follow. Was there any point to it all? Maybe the keyblade had made a mistake, if those things could....
He sighed as another thought occurred to him, light from the window falling across his form. The others would be expecting to see him sometime today, perhaps at the Struggle Tournament, and his non presence would send people looking for him, and he didn't need people dropping in on him unannounced while he wanted to be alone. But at the same time he found it difficult to work up the will to actually get up and go there, lacking in motivation. He supposed he would have to go, would have to resume the show he knew was a lie now, a fake smile for the audience to convince them nothing was wrong when he didn't feel right at all.
At last his mind reached a decision and he shifted, trying to keep his eyes closed once again. He'd go. Later.
More :p
Need bigger character limits.
I'll get a post up. Eventually. I promise. Once Renose and me finish this collab.
Name: Philippe Roche
Gender: Male
Age: 25
Nationality: French
Appearance:
6' 3" height, short black hair. A bit scruffy around the chin, but he makes sure it doesn't get out of control. Relatively athletic. casual dress is a leather jacket,m grey t shirt, and jeans, though he may be more often seen in his uniform.
Biography: Born in Toulouse, France to a family of five. His father worked in the airplane industry, his mother stayed at home. There wasn't anything too remarkable about his upbringing, he went through the school system like the rest of them. But his career path diverged when he decided to join the Armed forces. It was his way of distinguishing himself form the rest of his family, and he had grown up with stories of the German invasion of France in the Second World War.
This had a significant impact on him, teaching him discipline and how to fight, serving in combat zones in Africa and the Middle east, distinguishing himself under fire in several instances. It seemed the start of a promising career for Roche.
That all changed when the Twilight Beasts invaded. The world was thrown into a panic as everything changed overnight. All French troops were pulled home to stop the scourge growing out from Paris, and Philippe was one of those, returning home to fight for his mother country. But all they received was defeat after defeat, their weapons useless for the most part, and they turned to desperately clinging onto what ground they could hold.
Now a new strategy will be tried, an international organization dedicated to defeating these things. Roche was part of the french contribution, and is driven by a fire to reclaim his homeland, one way or another.
Specialty: Tactics
I hope this is suitable
Gender: Male
Age: 25
Nationality: French
Appearance:
6' 3" height, short black hair. A bit scruffy around the chin, but he makes sure it doesn't get out of control. Relatively athletic. casual dress is a leather jacket,m grey t shirt, and jeans, though he may be more often seen in his uniform.
Biography: Born in Toulouse, France to a family of five. His father worked in the airplane industry, his mother stayed at home. There wasn't anything too remarkable about his upbringing, he went through the school system like the rest of them. But his career path diverged when he decided to join the Armed forces. It was his way of distinguishing himself form the rest of his family, and he had grown up with stories of the German invasion of France in the Second World War.
This had a significant impact on him, teaching him discipline and how to fight, serving in combat zones in Africa and the Middle east, distinguishing himself under fire in several instances. It seemed the start of a promising career for Roche.
That all changed when the Twilight Beasts invaded. The world was thrown into a panic as everything changed overnight. All French troops were pulled home to stop the scourge growing out from Paris, and Philippe was one of those, returning home to fight for his mother country. But all they received was defeat after defeat, their weapons useless for the most part, and they turned to desperately clinging onto what ground they could hold.
Now a new strategy will be tried, an international organization dedicated to defeating these things. Roche was part of the french contribution, and is driven by a fire to reclaim his homeland, one way or another.
Specialty: Tactics
I hope this is suitable
Fire. A flourish of a blade. Thunder. A powerful kick. Blizzard. Spells flew across the lot as Thomas trained himself, and he was sure whoever ran this lot wouldn't mind the junk being gone either. It made for useful targets. Driven by his internal desires, he worked, and he didn't stray his gaze as Serin entered to comment on his training style. Like he needed a commentary. or something.
"I'm working on speed and endurance. Unless being able to quickly cast spells is a bad thing and no one told me," he replied with the barest hint of sarcasm as he sent another fire spell whizzing, metal splintering from the impact. He sighed and relaxed, turning to face Serin. "That's what I've been told, though I may have been misinformed." He wasn't sure why, but he was feeling somewhat sarcastic today, perhaps as a result of aggravation to his dark wound. The prospect of learning some new skill or ability, even from Reno's foster father, was too good to pass up, and he nodded his agreement. "Sure."
"I'm working on speed and endurance. Unless being able to quickly cast spells is a bad thing and no one told me," he replied with the barest hint of sarcasm as he sent another fire spell whizzing, metal splintering from the impact. He sighed and relaxed, turning to face Serin. "That's what I've been told, though I may have been misinformed." He wasn't sure why, but he was feeling somewhat sarcastic today, perhaps as a result of aggravation to his dark wound. The prospect of learning some new skill or ability, even from Reno's foster father, was too good to pass up, and he nodded his agreement. "Sure."
Hm, thinking either Black Hole (tears away protective magic and does damage), or Mirage (makes illusions to confuse the enemy)
Actually, that reminds me. Bio, do the people who went to Prydain get abilities? I don't really care either way, I just thought I'd ask.
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