Hexaflexagon

Falling Skies: PMC

Haio!

And well yeah that's half of Falling Skies is it not? The waiting game. It's kind of like being like Fry's Dog in Futurama but less heart wrenching.

Old Gods: A Tale of Monsters and Men

Hey people! Cool beans.

@Sonatina
Excellent Questions!

Question Number 1
Everybody is going to be tasked with making two sheets one for your human and the other for their corresponding monster. The intent being as a pair they are supposed to mirror one another, the Levithan despite being a Lovecraftian horror serves as a representative of your character's more primal insticts. Their other monster inside if you may.

Question #2
I'd say more general atmosphere than anything else. I have this idea of very scary monster placed against a crumbling Art Deco scene if that makes any sense. And the pureblooded humans within the confines of their city's definitely reflect this with their dress being mostly sharp suits for the man and elegant dresses for the ladies. Though the rest of the world is drastically different, bleak and barren like the picture above. But they try to hide from that fact as their soldiers by truckloads everyday with their extravagant balls and other parties.

Technology well is going to be different due to the fact that arcane magic superseded diesel but it's very similar. The eaiset way I could describe it would be very diselpunk from a technological aesthetic. Like the giant sub in Atlantis the lost Empire. But following the same general pattern of technological advancement (no supersonic jets or anything) so automobiles, trains, aeroplanes, and zepplins are the go to forms of transportation in the Republic while everywhere else either use horses or thier feet for the most part. Mostly because it's convenient and human technology has a bad tendency to draw unwanted attention in the eild

Though really it all depends on how we as players end up shaping things. The main reason I picked the dawn of the 20th century was less the feeling of the time but what it meant. A convergence of global ideas and thinking. The conglux of old and new, alien and benign. Since that is a lot of what Old Gods is about.

Old Gods: A Tale of Monsters and Men

Old Gods: A Tale of Monsters and Men

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TL;DR Summary:

• An alternate Earth long scarred by a long and bloody war. The dawn of the 20th century where Cloverfield/Lovecraftian beasts have roamed amongst man for time immemorial.
• Magic exists fueled primarily by the presence of these Leviathans and magical potential can be increased exponentially be consuming the blood of such creatures or for a less powerful boost the blood of the infected.
• The infected are a sad result of living in such a world. Carrying tainted blood these lesser humans have mutations ranging from single cyclodiene eyes, to fur, animal, ears, wings, extra arms, legs, and other deformities marking them different from the common man. As a result they are segregated against heavily and for the longest time were treated as slaves and second class citizens by the pure blooded humans. At least until the Great War where most of them that could rebelled and joined the side of the Leviathans feeling they were more alike.
• Following a human attempt to capture a Leviathan to use its tremendous power, the two sides broke out into a terrible war that has lasted ever since in a bitter stalemate after most of the old human kingdoms were destroyed.
• The last remnants of humanity reside in the Republic a Totalitarian democracy where the purebloods hold firm reign over their infected lessers as slaves and spend countless hours experimenting and pushing the envelope on ethics to figure out a way to win the war as they hold away in their last vestigial cities and expanse citadels. Most of which are located in what our world would know as Northern Europe and Scandinavia. The rest of the world are shellshocked wastelands reconquered by the Leviathans and the untamed wilderness where most in their domain have gone back to the old ways moving in small nomadic tribes.
• Our Characters will be those bounded in blood. For as long as they can remember they have had a connection with a dark voice speaking inside of their heads. They are connected mysteriously to very old and very powerful Leviathans lying still in slumber and have the ability to tap into their immense power in exchange for relinquishing some humanity. This of course means they are hunted by forces on both sides wanted for their power as they search for the truth.
• Story is about them dealing quite literally with the monsters inside of them and also figuratively dealing with the monsters inside of them as they try to maintain their own humanity in the face of darkness.

In Character Information

My Grandmother used to tell me the story of the First Transgression. She said that in the beginning there had always been Leviathans roaming this earth. These great beasts beyond our own comprehension and understanding that wander the earth as we do. It was how the balance of power worked we were always destined to live in the shadow of fear and through that come to understand ourselves. These beasts taught us the values of life and not to fall to hubris as if we ever built our cities too large or ripped apart the land too quickly, a Leviathan would surely come drawn by the noise and the moaning of the land and destroy the city of man with a terrible fury. But as time progressed and the age of stone moved to Steel our ambitions grew and with them our desire for power.

We saw what even the presence of the Leviathans long gone did. The taint which infected our brethren's blood changing and morphing them from children of men into beasts. We observed how even the smallest drop of blood from such a beast consumed by a mortal men could increase their own strength and abilities in the old ways of the arcane. We wanted that power for ourselves, we wanted to harness the power of the Leviathans and use it for our own gains. For they were merely beasts and we were man. Did our brains, morals and thinking not give us dominion over them? So an intrepid army set out to capture one such Leviathan and usher out the age of coexistence and bring forth the age of man. Those poor fools. had no idea what horrors they would bring forth upon the world.

For thousands of years Man and beast had lived in an ebb and flow with one another. Each balancing the other out and keeping the cycle from collapsing. This blatant attack marked the end of this peaceful coexistence. Man had made the first strike but thee Leviathans would retaliate. This attack is what we know call the First Transgression. An action filled by the same hubris and greed that fuel our leaders of today still trying to end a war that their ancestors started many moons ago. A war of man and beast. The Great War.

The countries of man bounded together in solidarity with their mixture of arts most arcane and technology in an attempt to hold of the hoards of their opponents both the Leviathans and the infected long tired of the segregation and oppression brought down upon them by their pure blooded brethren. The Great War began in earnest and the skies became aligt with a brilliant fire, the sea roared and turned red with blood as the earth was shattered by giant feet and arcane magiks. At first humanity almost fell and was pushed back far to their last strongholds in the North, caught off guard by the ferocity of their otherworldly attackers. But they regrouped and pushed the beasts back across the sea and retook some of their lost land. Even since this last push the two sides have been caught in a stalemate. Neither side is able to take much substantial ground as cities are sacked they are soon lost within months and retaken by the opposing side. It’s become an endless meatgrinder as the world slowly quakes and trembles in its death throes as the humans build bigger arcane weapons and the Leviathans strike back.

But there are rumors out in the wastes. Rumors of humans and infected capable of forming blood links with these Leviathans like the Shamans of Old. Pathological bonds of shared consciousness with one of the beasts. A forced unity between beast and man that could bring peace to the world or bring it crashing down to its feet. But as these blood links grow and these individuals lose their innate humanity will peace be what they seek?

Out of Character Information

Old Gods is a story that comes from many places and has congealed into something strangely alien. It's a story about an Earth and humanity plunging headfirst into the turbulent 20th century not so different than our own. Sure maybe it is a little bit more magical than ours but with familiar echos. Replace Leviathans with Imperialistic ambitions, nuclear weapons or the like, the Infected with the many non-european races of the world and their Great War with our own Great War. Either way it's always a story of ideology and power two ideas that are always closely interlinked with one another. Ideas of freedom, progress and the path of mankind in an uncertain future. A future decide by blood and death. And if that is the case then those bonded in blood are a fusion of ideas, a eldritch form of globalization, a merging of man and monster. How two sides of the coin can be similar but alien in so many ways from one another.

More importantly though then that Old Gods is in many ways a tale about monsters. You see I've always been one to humor that monsters can come in many forms: you have the pedophile down the street, the murderer in the upstairs apartment, the Adolf Hitlers, Stalins, but you always have other monsters less tangible ones. The kind that people deal with everyday and are classified as sane in their ability to subside the urges that come from these monsters to let us severely maim somebody for being a righteous prick or something. Then of course their are your classic hollywood monsters your Draculas, Frankenstein's Monsters, werewolves, and zombies. They are reflection of humanity that we distort and make horrific to help represent some of our more baser instinct. But you always have your monsters beyond the edge of human understanding things that make you look behind yourself when you're by yourself, the dark unsettling kind of monsters that keep you up at night. These monsters are so large and cosmic to us little humans that all we can do in response is hope they don't see us and our blue little marble. Old Gods is primarily about these last kind of monsters but also about all the other kinds as well and well the idea of monsters. What are monsters in the first place?

Upon this war torn Earth where the seas have turned red and great beasts lurked beneath the waves, were great clouds of grey seem to perpetually hang in the sky and where once great cities lay now desolate in ruin abandoned by time. Upon this world we will use it as a focusing lense to try and answer that question of what are monsters. Through some peoples "special" if not wanted relationship with some of them. A lense which has many different focus to get this point of monsters across some singular villains or opponents, others whole events and others larger nebulous concepts such as slavery, racism, biological weapons and war crimes which in their own right can create some very special monsters.

But it's also a RP where player interaction and involvement is very much valued. I've seen up a bare baseline for the world and a generally idea and feel that I want to go with. A sort of apocalyptic fantasy roaring 20s deal and have done a significant if not small amount of worldbuilding that will be displayed more thoroughly in the RP. But most of the world is a mystery, this Earth is not our own and whose to say the cities are to be the same either. Even so after decades of endless war many of those old world settlements have been destroyed and left in ruin only for new cities to rise in their wake. The stories of the people and the world they inhabit and the histories, and cultures they bring with them that's for us to work out together. To make a breathing world that every player has had a role in shaping the mold in some little way.

And it's also a RP that's not all introspective navel gazing a lot of it will be action heavy. You don't get to have a telepathic blood bond with a cthulu like abomination and not get to use your deadly eldritch powers to kick some ass. The road to truth it's not one easily walked and is filled with combat and troubles along the way that you must overcome. But that's the real point of Old Gods isn't it? Learning to overcome be it adversity or your own inner monsters. Well that is all I'm going to say for now really before running risk of over-saturating the Interest Check with information. If I have caught your intrest pop a squat and say hello. If I haven't? Well you can't win them all can you?

Matryoshka [Engel x Hex]

Part 1

Electric City Rhapsody

The Moscow Zone lays on the eastern edge of the Expanse. A solemn congregation of dark steel rising to meet grey skies of snow and rain. The “Gateway of the East” was once the dominate force in the technologies of the future fueled by the remnants of Soviet ashes and persistent ingenuity. They rivaled anything coming out of the Pacific Corridor, or the American Consolidations. These days those times of glory and prestige seemed little more than vestiagle motes of dust suspended in time. A crude but effective combination of rising crime, political corruption and lack of care the great, bringing the eastern metropolis down from its pedestal.

Though like any rotting corpse, the maggots and carrion eaters still thrived. Gangs, corporations and anyone looking for a place to just disappear all eventually found their ways to Moscow. These complex and dazzling spider web of backroom dealings, espionage and murder created a new ecosystem in the wake of the one long since decayed. It was now a city that ran on more simple things than bureaucracy or ideology. It ran on currency; sheafs of old world dollars and rubles, or small intrinsic credit chips for the new age. It didn't matter what you paid in as long as you had the money you could get anything that your heart desired and more. In the Zone you either knew how to play the game or died in some neon saturated alleyway.

The last real resemblance of public authority in the Zone was the Moscow branch of the Public Security Bureau. Located far away from its headquarters in Berlin, the PSB was heavily undermanned and underfunded. Nobody cared about the safety or well being of the wretches and rats living in a black hole when they had other corporate interests they needed to look after. It didn't help that most of the Moscow PSB was already being paid out of pocket by at least five different “reputable sponsors” to look the otherway and basically let a crude mixture of private security forces and street justice deal with the problems that arose. Attention was bad for business after all and the less that PSB HQ heard about problems going on in Moscow the better it was for the rats that lived within.

Of course there were always outliers in these equations of life. Individuals whether through some sort of death wish, self honor, or other odd mental disruption got it into their minds that the PSB still had a job to do. That even though most of their coworkers were corrupt and as bad as the gangsters and criminals they were supposed to bring in, that they still had a duty to the regular people of the Zone stuck in the mess just like them. Detective Mykhaila Krajnik was one such damned soul.

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“Hey watch it!” A voice yelled after Mykhaila as she shouldered her way through the crowd. She did not move for other individuals as they approached her rather they parted from her as if propelled by some innate deep force. She pulled the heavy black trench coat closer against her body as the wind began to pick back up again buffeting her body as fresh flakes of cold january snow danced around her. She pushed on with persistence head down against the want heading down the street towards the old wrought iron gate that marked the entrance of the Gutter.

желоб in the common tongue, the Gutter was a den of bright neon and depravity. It was situated between the squat smog churning factories of the industrial sector and the tall obelisks of glass that the CEOs that ran the show dwelled inside of. As a result you got a mixture of all types with smartly dressed businessman consorting with basic five penny whores all indulging a sensory overload of uppers, downers, hallucinogens and pulsing neon. It certainly wasn't a place for any tourist or the faint of heart to sally forth through, everybody had an agenda and everybody was packing. You didn't go to the Gutter to find something, you went to get lost in the ritualistic haze to forget about your worries for awhile, to be consumed by the pulsating energy that swirled about.

Of course Mykhaila knew that like anywhere else in Moscow желоб was as bad as the rest of the city. A lot of bodies get pulled out from behind clubs and from the alleyways when the sun rose up in the sky and the many bars and other “reputable places of business” closed their shutters waiting for the tainted darkness to sweep across the sky once more. It was natural selection really; as soon as you stopped moving, stopped pushing forward, stopped checking behind your back you were eaten alive for being too slow.

Business was the dull roar of a raging current and death the accepted punishment for carelessness, laziness, lack of vigor or failure to follow intricate and age old procedures of honor and justice. It was no place for a Detective in the PSB. If any of the harvesters, runners or fixers found out who she was they would swarm upon her in an instant and rip her apart until she was nothing more than a faded memory left in the blood soaked ground. She wasn't afraid though, she grew up in streets like these back in Kiev. She knew the rules: never make direct eye contact, head pointed down, hands in pockets, always look like you know where you're going and shoot first and ask question later. They had gotten her out of a lot of bad situations back then and now she was only ten times as worse as she was back then.

She broke off from the main crowd of people turning down one of many narrow and winding side streets. She passed stall vendors yelling in a variety of languages some Russian, Ukrainian, English and Chechen among others, They were selling everything from knock off watches, to exotict animals barking and bawling in cages, to every kind of illicit substance one could ever wish to flush through their body. Navigating these crowded side streets, she pushed her way forward avoiding the occasional wide eyed vagrant or tricking human deification left preserved in the cold January evening. She continued in this looping pattern going from brightly illuminated expanses with prostitutes dancing in the window, to dimly lit alleyways where managers looked upon her for any sign of weakness ready to pounce.

Eventually she found her way to her destination tucked away in the heart of the Gutter, behind a long abandoned meat packing factory sat a small building with a crowd of people gathered outside indulging in cigarettes as the soft drum of music came from beyond the door. The name etched into the glass was simple. Darkwire. Looking around one last time she made her way across the street and making her way through the crowd outside she entered the threshold.

The sounds of a heavy industrial beat surrounded her as her black boots meet solid wood rather than a mixture of ice and snow. Upon entering Darkwire the dwellers inside turned their heads to look at her for a moment but upon seeing the Enforce strapped to her leg they decided it would probably be best to just leave her alone. The Darkwire was a simple dive with the dominant space in the center being a pulsating neon dance floor lighting up the darkness around them as a series of booths and tables lined the perimeter with the bar on the far side. Skirting the perimeter of the dance floor she made her way to the bar and taking a seat. A tall african with broad shoulders and a muscular build on the other side of the bar walked over his entire lower jaw replaced with a metal prosthesis.

Nobody knew his real name but most people just called him Niz. One time long ago he was special forces working with Hawkins Security Solutions, now he was the sole proprietor and barkeep of the Darkwire. Niz prided himself on his clean record and sense of peace that he was able to keep in the Darkwire. Last group of gangers that tried to extort him and harass his customers ended up across the street hanging from the light fixtures for all to see with a whole lot of bullet holes in them. Niz didn't even have a scratch on him. As a result the Darkwire had become a meeting place for many different individuals where exchanges of information and deals could be brokered without the fear of rivals coming in and shooting them dead.

“And what will you be having little lady?” Niz asked sounding almost bored as he polished a stout glass in his hand with an old and beaten rag that made Mykhaila question the actual effectiveness of the cleaning.

“What’s the strongest you got?” She asked looking up from the woodwork of the bar a metallic flicker in the circuitry beyond her eyes. She wasn't asking because she was particularly fond of hard liquor or even because she was trying to play tough. No, it was the only stuff that actually had an effect anymore everything else was just diluted through the implants in her body. Sure it was great at dealing with poisons and toxins but it made getting drunk a pain in the ass.

“Hmm I’ll see if we have any of the Svyatogor Special left.” He told her as he turned around shuffling through the shelves of bottles behind him before he pulled out an old square bottle from the top most shelf. Taking a fresh glass he popped the bottle and filled the glass with a murky almost black liquid and slid it down the countertop. Mykhaila caught it and in one swift motion brought it up to her mouth as she produced a handful of old world bills from her pocket and shoved them on the table. The shit was bitter and burned as it went down her throat... it tasted like home.

“So if you don’t mind me asking little lady. But I remember every face that comes in here and your new. What brings you to the Darkwire on such a terrible evening?” Niz asked the woman sitting at the bar with a mild curiosity as he took the bills from the table and put them away for safekeeping.

“I’m waiting for a friend of sorts.” She quipped as she took another drag from her glass. It wasn't a total lie of course but calling “her” a friend was like calling an abstinence supporter a perfect match for a brewmaster. No, she was here because reputable sources had informed her that the anarchist she had been hunting down for the last half a year was coming into the Darkwire tonight for some sort of deal. The source was reputable enough and Mykhaila made sure that no word of her questioning would get out. So now she just had to wait until her target arrived.

Looking down at the swirling liquid in her glass she absentmindedly brought up the target’s folder in the PSB database, the display appearing in her vision being projected on her retina. They had little to know information except for a name and a grainy picture taking by a security camera. Irina Zherdeva. Well tonight was finally going to be the night that she got her. Mykhaila was not going to fail after all these months. But for now even as she watched the door in the reflection of the bottles behind the bar, she could only wait and drink waiting for the right time.

It was going to be a long night.

Matryoshka [Engel x Hex]

Mykhaila stands at roughly 170.9 cm in height. Her build is not that of one of great intimidating stature one would describe it as svelte in nature. She is built with a body of a rhythmic gymnast, of tight and controlled muscle focusing on speed and explosive power rather than raw strength.Though beyond her exterior lay a combination of cybernetics and flesh, a requirement for all security officers to keep up with the progress of technology of the day. Synthetic skin laid over robotic arms and legs and the flash of humming circuitry built in her pale blue eyes. Her face is usually kept in a composure of calm serenity, unphased by the darkness of the Expanse.

Name:

Mykhaila Krajnik

Age:

27

Falling Skies: 7th Mobile Armor Suit Team

The artificial sheen of white danced across the eyes from the omnipresent flicker of the lighting fixture above. The floor space felt almost gargantuan when compared to the tight crew quarters of the Lincoln. Trapp moved over slowly to the edge of the bed running a hand across the white sheet leaving bloody marks in his wake. It had been freshly cleaned and crisp in its texture... pressed with starch. It was certainly a change from Lhant less dirty feces ridden hole in the ground and more minimalistic hotel well of course hotels did'nt have shielded glass walls but the feeling was still there. Of course though those were the merits of having been caught by actual Coalition forces and not angry and half starved guerrillas willing to go beyond the point of no return if it meant the liberation of their planet and the fulfillment of their ideals. The Coalition forces at least had a seeming shred of decency left in their bodies. They weren't driven by loss and rage, they were just stuck in a long war just like the UEE. It was a shame though that Trapp would have to exploit that common decency to survive

He moved from the bed to the toilet peering down into the water. A face was reflected back at him caked in an all too familiar mixture of blood and sweat. Having an actual amount of work that he could work with he could at least assess the damage better. He was no doctor or even a medic but like everybody else he was taught basic field medicine and dressing, you know the basic things needed to keep you or your body alive maybe for a couple more hours. While some may frown up the idea of washing one's face with toilet water. It came from the same place that the glorious liquid coming out of your faucet did so it was at least sanitary and even the most basic of toilets these days had cleaning measures to make sure that no bacteria lived inside of them after business was done. So unless somebody actually defecated in it the water was serviceable. Cupping the lukewarm liquid in his hands he brought it up to his face with a gentle splash. He methodically began to scrub away some of the blood caked onto his face with a focus on the head wound moving gently around it to at least clean any dirt or other foreign bodies away. Even as he worked more blood slowly trickled out but he could at least see the problem better. A large laceration across the skull from the impact upon crashing into the lake. He was lucky enough not to have gone out completely but the pain and the ever present feeling of lightheadedness was still there.

Finishing up he turned his attention back across the way to see how Maki was fairing. Much to his surprise or well rather lack of surprise at this point she was already half dressed and fiddling with what appeared to be quasi prison shank of sorts. Well that would explain the whole "underwire" incident when they were being processed in words. Smuggle your weapons in hidden in places most decent men would have problems searching, one of the oldest tactics in the book but we'll still seemed to work. For all the copious amounts of shit she has thrown his way Trapp could at least appreciate that she was smart. And she did try to save him from plummeting to his death. The smile she threw his way though reminded him why she made him feel uneasy, to do this well enough you had to at least be a minor functioning sociopath but she seemed to revel in it all with the ferocity of something more akin to a devil than a soldier. Well at least she was on his side.

"Care to wager how long it takes for those sorry asses to come get us?"

He couldn't help but laugh to himself despite the pain. At least she was frank about it. He contemplated the question in his head and thinking of the situation they were currently in. Having Alice's broadcast signal sent out they at least knew that was at least something they had in their pocket. Ardin wouldn't want to loose valuable UEE technology especially Alice in the hands of the Coalition engineers. But UEE missions were not short burst of sudden energy but long and drawn out affairs. They liked their plans and they liked to make sure that all the boxes were checked off twice before anything got done. Prepare for every option and opportunity. Though with hostages and a recovery mission of valuable technology? Well maybe their time scale would be pushed up a bit. Well it didn't really matter in the long run away even if the span was five hours to five weeks they still had the same mission until then. Stay alive and stay quiet. Content he spoke allowed his answer.

"Oh you know, long enough to make it inconvenient." He explained to her with a smile on his face as he stepped back towards the wall slouching down with his back against it till his knees met his chest. He began to whistle an old UEE marching cadence as he waited for the opportunity to escape.

"Cuz one early morning 'bout zero-five!
The ground will rumble, there'll be lightning in the sky!
Don't you worry, don't come undone
It's just my ghost on a PT run!"

---

He couldn't figure how much time had passed since they were put into the cell, the expressionless white walls and the lack of proper windows to the outside world not helping resolve the issue. Maybe an hour or maybe more but there was a soft hum of activity as a door opened on the far side of the cell block. Flanked by two guards on either side was what looked to be a doctor of some sort and his assistant pushing a large white cube and heading down the way towards them. Trapp looked up from his mental contemplations as they stopped outside of his glass pane. The doctor was an older man most likely of southeast asian heritage with a wrinkled face and head long gone of hair and his assistant was a tall caucasian female with long red hair. The man seemed to be arguing with his escort judging from his hand gestures but finally the guards relented and the pair walked inside unaccompanied. As they did one of the guards still posited outside swiped at a panel and the glass went opaque Maki and the rest of the outside world vanishing beyond the edge.

"Apes they all are, expecting me to do my job with their eyes over my shoulder."The old man muttered in a tone of annoyance that displayed that it seemed to at least be a common occurrence to his assistant as they approached Trapp. Trapp looked at the pair confused as the woman knelt down beside him and took his hand helping him up and then sitting him down upon the bed with his feet firmly on the floor. The old man seemed preoccupied with entering commands in his white box as the woman produced a medical scalpel. Trapp reflexively clenched his fist ready to strike out as she neared close but the voice of the old man filled the void.

"I suggest you let her do her job pilot. We are not Coalition interrogators or even members of their armed forces. We just fix people for them and you young man need some immediate fixing before your brain spills out of your head. Coalition interrogators went your mind intact No?" His voice was chastising in its tone akin to a parent talking to a young child. He sounded sincere enough and his assistant met Trapp's eyes and they seemed to reflect the same idea. These people weren't soldiers, proabably just from the local town or something conscripted by the Coalition forces. So while he was still tense he let the woman approach him and with steady hands she swiftly cut through the fabric of his flight jacket down the center, prying it away to expose her chest and abdominal muscles. He wanted to protest but he supposed he could just get another jacket.

The man finished entering in some commands in his white cube and with a soft whirr it expanded as an array of medical instruments on trays were released from within. The man produced a series of wires tapered on one end with ads that he handed over to the assistant who began to stick them across Trapp's body. The man flipped a switch and a soft electric beep was sounded as a strange tingling sensation ran from Trapp's head to his feet. As the doctor looked at the readout he hummed in interest as he looked down at his console and back up at Trapp. It was a face mixed with a sad sense of understanding and amazement as he walked over picked up what looked to be some sort of clamp along the way.

"Well that explains it. Upon seeing your wound, I thought only a man of iron could have stayed awake after something like that. Well it would seem I'm right. You've put your body through a lot of stress over the years pilot. Unhealed bones still fractured within, torn muscles never healed properly, cartilage worn away. Your body is held together by steel and flesh fused together beneath the surface. It's a miracle you have made it is a far as you have without major organ failure at the least. Let alone put the weight and stress of piloting a MAS." The old man explained as peered at the wound on Trapp's head with the precision of a hawk using a finger to poke and prod about the wound sending flashing of pain through Trapp's body.

"May be so old man but I have to keep fighting it's my job." Trapp explained and the man nodded in agreement as his assistant handed him a cloth which she had dipped in antiseptic pressing it against Trapp's head. The pain crashed again but the old man held it firm content it making sure that it did its work even as Trapp's hands seemed ready to swing out at him at a moment's notice.

"Of course, of course the soldier's burden. Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori. Doctors such as myself are all too familiar with little boys running off to war unafraid of the damage that may be done." Trapp couldn't help but laugh to himself at the truth of the statement as the Doctor brought up an enchantment glass to his head flicking a switch and turning it to x-ray mode as he viewed the damage from a closer perspective.

"Yeah.. So if that's why you're helping a UEE dog like me. Why is she helping?" Trapp asked his arms wandered back to the doctor's assistant who remained stark and silent her eyes still displaying emotion even if her body and voice did not through the conversation as she handed the doctor his tools. There was something about her, about the look in her eyes that spoke volumes even if Trapp couldn't read what it was. He knew those eyes though the pain, the loss glossed over by a sense of work and duty. An all too familiar gaze.

"She grew up on a border world with the UEE. In an attempt to flush out the Coalition forces hiding in her village the UEE dropped gas bombs. Terrible things they burned the throat and destroyed the lungs in mere minutes of inhalation. Her entire village died except for her. She was by the river when the bombs hit and managed to dunk her head in the water right after she was supposed to help neutralize the toxins. Though the damage was already done, the toxins too great destroying her throat and vocal chords and heavily damaging her lungs. I was one of the volunteer doctors sent in as part of the relief efforts on the planet when I found her. I helped save her life and in return she has followed me around ever since." The doctor explained in a matter of fact way. Trapp couldn't help feel guilty in a way. Gas it was more of a common occurrence than one would think. It was an easy way to suppress ground troops and route enemy forces. He'd proabably provided covering fire from such bombardments dozens of times and never once thought about the other people affected by such attacks.

"Don't feel too bad pilot. She holds no grudge against your government or the Coalition she just wants to help people. Now let's seal up that wound of yours. Bite into this and don't spit it out until I say otherwise. I would prefer to perform actual surgery on the wound but we will make do with what your captors will allow " The old man explained as he shoves a bundle of rags into Trapps mouth. The smelled and tasted of a sicking combination of antiseptict and old scented candles. The odd combination doing its job long enough to distract Trapp as the old man pressed the clamp against skull and with an adjustment forced the two halves together rather brutishly. He was thankful for the rag because if it wasn't there he would of proabably bit through his tongue. With the fractured piece held together he produced a small medical torch. A high precision flame based instruments used to melt and reseal wounds and even bone as needed. Real doctors prefered actual methods of sealing and the like but out on the field a medical torch could be the difference between life and death Looking at Trapp with a flash of sympathy he turned the torch on tilting it downward about eight inches away from Trapp's head as he pressed the ignition. The gag keeping him from severing his own tongue also muffled any sound of pain coming from the commander as the hot plasma danced across his skin. Ten minutes went by before the entire process was done and the wound was at least sealed. Trapp's body was reeling with pain but at least know he would not die of blood loss.

The old man removed the rag from Trapp's mouth letting his staggered breathing fill the room as the pain continued to persist. The old man reached through his instruments producing a syringe filled with bright green liquid of some sort and before Trapp had a moment to react he drove it into the side of the commander's neck. Trapp flinched but as the liquid intermixed with his bloodstream the pain began to subside as his body slowed down. Now in silence the man and woman began to clean up before Trapp and their equipment. Finishing promptly they left Trapp sitting on his bed the pain medication still coursing through his system leaning back against the wall. But not before the man whispered something in Trapp's ear.

"We are not all bad people pilot. Try and remember that." And without another word the man left his cell. A swift gesture of a hand and the opacity faded letting the light back in and the world around them. Trapp watched as the doctor and his assistant were escorted down the hallway and out of the cellblock and all he could do was shake his head. He drew his attention back across the way towards Maki who must of been wondering what the hell was going on and could only give her a thumbs up as he returned to his position sitting against the backwall. Looking up though he did speak one thing through the glass.

"I wonder how the others are doing right now."

Matryoshka [Engel x Hex]

"Welcome to Moscow kid."

On March 30, 1981 at 2:27 PM, John Hinckley, Jr. successfully kills United States President Ronald Reagan a mere 69 days into his presidency. As John Hinckley, Jr. is killed before he can be questioned, a media blitz occurs portraying Hinckley as a Soviet Spy. The Death of President Reagan leads to a massive surge in American patriotism and Nationalism leads to the subsequent rise in Cold War tensions as Regan's planned doctrine of no compromise with the USSR is put into full effect. The destruction of Korean Air Lines Flight 007 in 1983 by the Russian Military when it ventured into Russian airspace only serves to further increase these tensions and eventually leads to full blown war between NATO and the Warsaw Pact on December 24th, 1983. The Russians soon after launch Операция: Славный молот (Operation Glorious Hammer), a plan to deploy an EMP capable nuclear weapon above the US with the resulting Nuclear electromagnetic pulse knocking out all telecommunications and electronics on the mainland US preventing a counterattack.

Operation Glorious Hammer succeeds actually too well on Christmas Day 1983. Following a series miscalculations the resulting EMP wave did not just wipe out all electronics in America but across Earth in an event known as Silent Christmas. While power would not be restored to full functionality for 60 days after the blast, the world was plunged into anarchy. In the aftermath of Silent Christmas, the world is a changed place. With the failure of governments to maintain order in the chaos, it was the big corporations with their own private security forces that were able to maintain order. In the aftermath of this many world government's collapse including the United States and most of mainland europe, fragmented into city state holdings run by the corporations that consolidated their power into Plutocratict governments.

While technology and industry flourished in these new "corporation states", oppression and corruption ran rampant. Having no government to regulate these corporations whoever had the most power and most money got to run the show and trample over everybody else. The world was entirely split between the The Haves and the Have Nots with the common people suppressed and tossed aside in the gutter as they were no longer able to keep up with the rich and powerful with their new body augmentations and increasing technological power.

Our story would take place in one of these Corporation States known as the Expanse. The Expanse stretches from Moscow in the east to Lisbon in the west, as far north as Oslo, and as far south as Athens making up most of Europe. Once Europe was fragmented by hundreds of different corporations but over time as smaller corporations were swallowed up along with their land, the Expanse was consolidated. The Expanse is of course a dark place where gang leaders and corporate CEOs all plot against one another and where getting stab in a dark alley is just a part of your day to day commute.

Dungeon Punks

@Ogobrogo
By the power invested in me by the the eldritch gods below slowly eating my brain.... I declare thee characters accepted!

Dungeon Punks

@Savo
No Problem. Coach is a patient man.

@Ogobrogo
I believe in you internet stranger!

@JGBPhone
I got the PM! I'll look at it when I have a moment.

@Avanhelsing
No need to apologize. Sleep is the most important of the food groups.

Dungeon Punks

@The Roman07@Sombrero
Accepted.

@Ogobrogo@Eviledd1984
And yes if you guys want to apply you can. But on that note.

We are now currently closed to all further interest. All those that have expressed interest in joining through either a post here or PM can still submit an application but that is it.

Anyway first IC post is up. We really just a little introductory thing from you guys so that you can introduce your characters before I timeskip us forward to later in the evening to when the actual attack is to occur.