Recent Statuses

5 days ago
Current I'll be away for five days, I'll keep up through my phone but I won't be able to reply with any real fidelity. Sorry for the inconvenience.
14 days ago
Back out of Hiattus I guess.
2 mos ago
Thinking of comming back from hiattus.
5 mos ago
To those who are in Role-plays with me, I may be going into a hiatus soon due to school picking up the pace with activities.
6 mos ago
Cats Cats Cats, gotta love cats, the internet is made of cats.
1 like


"Where did my name come from?"

I thought of the name while I was still playing Spiral Knights, it was a really fun game to play and I wasted hours upon hours on it. Eventually I played Spiral knights so much that the name stuck - way better than my old name, "pwner370", wouldn't you agree? But how did I make it up? Well I was at the time just thinking of a really "knightly" sounding name and I wanted to use something like "Leo" or Lio for it but I knew those names were obviously taken; I obviously got to thinking of things that sounded cool in my head but would also pair nicely with Leo or Lio and for some reason I thought up this word, "trent", and from there the name Liotrent was born.

You can pronounce my name either "Lee-oh-trent" or "Lie-oh-trent" and I don't mind either way - I do however, prefer the former pronunciation rather than the latter. However, we probably won't be talking in person or through voice chat unless we're really close. That's the origin of my name.

"What kind of person am I?"

I am the type of person to get really shy or anxious whenever I'm posting something, anything, and anywhere online due to past experiences with my interests and such. I was super enthusiastic before, but I learned that the more enthusiastic I was when posting something - the more likely I was to get disappointed when the people that I thought would share my interest thought it was weird. However, it is a given that I am weird and overly imaginative by all accounts, it's just really hard to find people who are as weird as me.

Also, I have been diagnosed with ADHD when I was younger, I didn't know at the time and my parents only told me years later when they were somewhat inebriated from drinking. I don't exactly know what kind of ADHD I have, but I have my suspicions that I have a combined type. I am sorry in advanced if I talk to much or get distracted easily or whatever, please be patient with me! Even I don't know whether I'm being influenced by my ADHD and I know that's a big excuse but please I urge you to be patient.

I am generally a friendly person, but I am never the type to become instantly warm to people - I tend to be somewhat timid when it comes to people I have never interacted with before. Give me time and I'll warm up eventually and when I do, I'll be the type of friend that will stick by you through thick and thin. That's the kind of person I am.

"What Role-play genres do I prefer?"

When I was a kid, I was influenced by many movies and shows such as Starship Troopers, Blackhawk Down, Independence Day, Justice League, Batman, Ironman, gundam, zoids, etc. so to put it simply, I prefer the genres Military, Sci-Fi, History - I am also inclined to NRP because I like the idea of building a world and playing as a nation in that world. The writing styles I prefer are mid-casual to low-advanced - this is because it is well within my comfortable range of effort where I can write out a document that isn't insanely long and still be able to proof read comfortably without wanting to kill myself after.

That being said, I don't mind experimenting and coming out of my comfort zone to at least try new things, but with what I said in the previous question, it might take time for me to adjust. I am not willing to come out of my comfort zone by myself, I'd prefer if you ask me or something - even then I may decline depending on my mood. If any of you are acquaintances of mine - perhaps we've role-played together somewhere, then feel free to invite me to whatever role-play you're doing and I'll seriously consider.

"Thank you!"

Thank you for taking the time to read my bio to get to know me better! I massively appreciate it, time is precious and to have spent it on me - even if it's only a little bit, goes a long way. I hope we get along in the future!

Most Recent Posts


Katrina wasn’t too surprised to see a Vietnamese soldier in this small elite group, she had fought through Vietnam along side them and have seen their worth as fighters. When Thanh smiled it made her day, she hadn’t seen anyone smile for the whole time she’s been out of the train, mostly it was just Europeans complaining about the heat of the tropics. When Thanh shook her hand and said, "Don't worry about it. I'm too used to the dirt already." she let out a deep sigh of relief. She had thought she made a bad impression by having such dirty hands, but it seems she needn’t have worried. Promptly after he shook her hand with a firm, confident grip he introduced himself, "I'm Thanh. Pham Van Thanh. You can pronounce it however you want. I don't mind." She was at first confused by that statement, after a while in Vietnam, she learned to pronounce the names with some degree of accuracy.

She continued to admire the view and observe the little bubbles of interaction happening all around them, the scenic view was only hampered by one thing – the yells of men and the smell of war all around her. It was then that Thanh spoke to her, asking her about a few things and even reminiscing a little about his village.

"You mentioned that you draw earlier? Are you an artist? You do remind me of a lady in my village back then. She also likes drawing and sometimes would sketch the sceneries. A nice girl." He seemed to pause just for a moment, perhaps admiring a fleeting memory, a small moment passed until finally he realized he was was nodding off, he shook himself back to his senses to ask one last question, "Anyway, where do you come from, Katrina?"

She shuffled in her boots a little, no one had thought to ask her about her being an artist, she promptly answered each question with a small smile. ”I wanted to be an artist before the war, I was suppose to be enrolled into an art school...” she paused for a moment as she looked for the right words to say, ”Then the Japanese attacked my homeland – the Philippines and I lost my father in the battle of Manila. I was only fifteen when they attacked...” Her smile turned bitter, as she attempted to keep herself together, ”I promised that I’d return to my country to free it one day… I intend to keep that promise, what about you Thanh? Do you have a personal promise to fulfill?” She said his name with near perfect pronunciation, months of fighting alongside the Vietnamese have given her at least that and a very small vocabulary of Vietnamese.

With Sunday boredom kicking in I decided to do the following for everyone. Hopefully you like them all. If not...apologies:

@Lady Selune@Apollosarcher@Zoey White@LetMeDoStuff@webboysurf@AlternateMan@fallenstrife6@Liotrent@Oskar DiLondra

SALAMAT! (THANK YOU!) I've been contemplating on doing my own but I hadn't the skills :D

Would it be fine if I used the image on Armoury's profile?



The tiny alarm on his desk began to ring out an annoying sound, it was quiet enough not to be heard outside but it was enough to wake Thomas from his slumber. It was 4:00 AM, he hauled himself out of bed, no doubt there were already people awake with him – after all, habits are hard to break. He made himself some coffee and poured himself a mug full, he then started cooking breakfast. When he was done cooking he got it onto a table and started eating – it was corned beef and eggs with rice on the side, the perfect breakfast, but he only ate half after ten counts, something his instructors would make their trainees do. He opened up a few pill containers for his daily vitamin supplements, it didn’t matter whether or not he took them, but it did help improve his overall health so he took them anyway. When he finished his coffee, he cleaned up the table, washed the dishes, and had a quick shower.

After he showered, he prepared his gear, wore his BDU and readied his equipment. He was wearing his usual woodland camo BDU, his boonie hat, and sniper veil. His BDU was adorned with patches, with the AFPSOCOM patch on one shoulder and the Light Reaction Regiment patch on the other, on the front were various patches of certifications, from the master parachutist certification to combat diver certification. A few hours had passed and it was already 6:00AM, he heard knocking and yelling down the corridor, "Up and at 'em. Fifteen minutes to get your arse's to the South Wing before someone drags you there! Wear combat dressings. All equipment is in the armory within the South Wing. Grab your stuff when instructed and prepare. It's training time, lads and lasses."

He passed by Thomas’ room, and repeated the same thing, funnily enough though, Thomas already brought his armory with him, he grabbed his M1A SOCOM 16” and strapped it to his ruck, he grabbed his M4 and slung it over his shoulder, he then heard another set of footsteps not long after the wake-up call. He took a bit of face paint on his four fingers and ran them down diagonally across his face creating four streaks of black stripes, he then wore the rest of his equipment and followed behind the two men. He made a quick jog towards the south wing, compared to what he’d already endured, a jog was almost like nothing. He made it there a little winded, but overall ready and reporting. He looked around the area and found the two men already there conversing, he decided to keep quiet – it wasn’t a conversation he would want to interrupt. He instead took his time to examine the scenario and try to think of logical and unorthodox methods of entry; he wanted to maximize shock through overwhelming violence and surprise and take control of the situation quickly. However, as he thought out the situation thoroughly, he found that there was no good way of doing that currently, he needs the help of the other operators and that meant getting to know them and their particular skill sets, otherwise they weren't going to cooperate smoothly. He did know one thing though, they weren’t going to make the scenario easy, if anything they're going to try and mimic the scenario at Bellagio hotel.

”Putang ina” he whispered a curse under his breath, he understood what he needed to do, but he didn't have any meaningful connection to anyone, he then commits to another idea – improvise during the exercise. He will get to know them through their actions, decisions, and communications in the training session, after all, training is meant to make people better than they once were, what is failure if you cannot learn from it? That being said, he wouldn't mind talking to people before they get to training, it would be a more effective way of learning from them.

He calmed his nerves and focused himself for what was next, he relaxed and hoped that today would come out okay. A successful mission would be a bonus for what he aims to achieve and he had a feeling that it might not go as badly as he thinks it's going to go. He also noticed that he was at least going to match everyone's outfit now, he had patches galore and even had the flag of the Philippines as a patch on his shoulder above his AFPSOCOM patch. He wore it with pride and he hoped to carry it with him through his service in Rainbow.


Katrina sighed heavily as moments pass without anyone approaching her. She began to think that perhaps she seemed too approachable and in the moments that passed she noticed another man step down from the train, he then proceeded to interact with the other man she noticed earlier. Towards the edge of this social bubble of awkward conversations, she saw a woman who looked completely different from everyone else – much like herself talking to a red army soldier who seemed to have had his fair share of fighting.

She was about to just talk to someone regardless of what language they spoke, but out of nowhere, she heard a familiar expression, "Xin chao (Hello)", Vietnamese – a language she’s heard plenty of times. She turned to glance at who spoke and saw this east asian man who looked only to be a few inches taller than herself, he looked as though he wanted to talk to her as he continued "Beautiful day isn't it? Do you speak Russian?" She was at first a bit gobsmacked, it didn’t occur to her that some of the Vietnamese would be in squad 914. She had learned bits and pieces of Vietnamese, enough to know what people were talking about most of the time, but not enough for proper conversation – unless they could understand her broken Vietnamese. As for her Russian she was still looking for a teacher who knew enough English to be able to teach her without confusing her. The only words she’s learned so far are “Da, Nyet, Privet, and Do svidaniya”

A brief few seconds passed and she finally spoke, ”Oh, uh… No, I don’t speak Russian, it is a very beautiful day. Much like my homeland actually...” She looked back at the scenery and pondered what she would say next, this was her only interaction so far, ”You’re Vietnamese correct? I think you’re enjoying this weather as much as I am...” she turned to face him and introduced herself properly, ”I’m Katrina Santiago, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” she beamed while reaching out her hand for a shake, she however realized it was a bit dirty and added on a quick explanation, ”Don’t mind the black spots, they’re from drawing with vine charcoal.” she blushed slightly, as she let out a nervous laugh, embarrassed at how her hands looked at the time. She had no idea whether this man was the down and dirty type, she couldn’t judge just by looks alone, she could only judge through someone’s actions.



There was something about watching the landscape change over a span of several hours that was just so interesting to Katrina; how the landscapes changed so gradually but in drastic form and measure - it was calming. It was accompanied by a variety of different sounds all around her, the rhythmic vibrations and sounds of the train clacking along the tracks, the small whispers and snores of people in the different compartments, and just how quiet and calm the atmosphere was in the train. Eventually, she too gets bored and to pass the time she would draw a little bit in her sketchpads; they were well used and had many pages filled with intricate figures and landscapes. She found herself encapsulated in the memory of seeing hard working red army soldiers in uniform and decided to draw them.

Katrina took out some of her vine charcoal and started to make shapes visualizing as she went along, she started out with a rough shape, quickly creating an outline of what she wanted it to look like. At first it was like a white silhouette with black outlines, awkward shadows, and rough facial features and clothing, but as she continued to develop the piece, her lines became darker, the features on her drawing became sharper and the background was starting to pop into detail – three minutes into the drawing and it was starting to look more like a person but it lacked depth, which she quickly addressed it by giving him more character and giving more emphasis towards the background, the shadows, and the clothes. After an hour of rough sketching and detailing with different charcoal sticks, she came out with a product that she was happy with. A young red army man with his mosin nagant slung over his shoulder, he had a smirk on his face, the background looked like he was in the middle of a crowd shoulder to shoulder to another man in the army. She produced such a masterful art piece using only charcoal, some cloth, and her hands to get the right shades and shapes that she had visualized.

Katrina’s hands were covered with black marks from her art materials, but she didn’t care, she produced a piece she was proud of – another piece to add her collection of art. Before she knew it, the train’s rhythm slowed heavily and a loud screech followed as she lurched backwards from her hunched position facing towards the rear of the train. The sudden stop surprised her, she heard muffled yells and chatter from outside her cabin. Katrina took one look outside and it was as if she was looking at the Philippines, a tropical hue of greens, browns, yellows, and reds.

She packed her things up and head outside still wearing the USAFFE uniform she received back in the Philippines. Unsurprisingly, her outfit stood out among the rest of the rest of the men and women in their group, she took a stride towards the exit of the train and heard names being called and unsurprisingly she wasn’t among them – usually they only called the men to do the heavy lifting. She took in a few breaths of air and tied her hair into a neat pony tail before she continued outside – her hands still dirty from all the drawing she’s been doing. As she gazed out at the Indian landscape she couldn’t help but reminisce about her home. She stepped down onto the soil and scanned the faces around her, most of them were unfamiliar to her, the crew however she’s seen once or twice around the train. However, she did notice two people stand out, one man who looked much different from the Russians around him and another woman who looked as if she was in a daze. She would speak to them, but she pondered for a minute whether they’d understand English – instead she just stood there and admired the landscape and all it was worth, she put one hand on her waist and let the other hang to the side, standing with her feet slightly apart, while the corner of her lips rose to form a warm smile.

She thought that if anyone wanted to talk they’d come to her, she was usually more chatty, but she doesn’t even know if these people spoke a language she could understand. She stood there just reminiscing about the past and just how much she missed the Philippine’s warm summers like the ones here in India. In that moment she had an idea of what she would draw next, a landscape of the Philippines and how she remembers it. Deep emotions stirred as other thoughts accompanied that idea, but she kept up the smile - she didn't want to be seem unapproachable, especially to the people who she might be working with.


Villamor air force base, 4:00 P.M., an unfamiliar aircraft silhouette sat in the middle of the runway – a private jet commissioned by Rainbow for discreet travel. Thomas was set to board an hour before it even arrived, the extra time allowed him to say his farewells before being sent across the globe to meet with other elite operators. He shed no tear, he wasn’t that sentimental, in fact he was nervous more than he was sad. He found himself looking back at the beginning of the Scout Ranger Selection course – everyone is stripped of rank, everyone is equal, everyone has to prove themselves. “Ingana nasad na” he whispered to himself in his own dialect in an attempt to calm himself down. He had gone through this before, it wasn’t a big deal.

He walked out of the hangar wearing an OD green T-shirt, a pair of woodland camo pants, standard issue boots, his M1911 holstered to his hip, and two bags slung over him. One bag contained his equipment, the other was filled with extra BDUs, extra clothes, and toiletries. He took a moment to look around the base and felt himself let go of all the other things in his head.


He turned his head to see who was shouting – it was the pilot, “It’s time to go!” the pilot had an accent Thomas couldn’t quite place, it was a lot like British or Scottish, but it wasn’t really the same. He jogged towards the steps on the plane and climbed up to board the passenger compartment, he placed his bag on the carpeted floor and opened the file he was given to catch him up on the situation. The now infamous Bellagio Incident was detailed carefully, some details were left covered in black ink. He couldn’t help but notice how similar the experience was to the Marawi Crisis but compressed into a small hotel and a matter of hours, he thought back to one experience when in Marawi where he called in an APC, only to have its engines catch fire due to an RPG. He pulled out much of the crew, some were in need of immediate amputation and treatment for burns. It made sense why they were suddenly on the look out for new talented operators, they needed replacements.

“Hala buanga, naunsa to sila?” He was left shocked as he found the list of K.I.A. for the incident, some with names that are still blocked in ink – so many dead operators. He closed the document and processed how the people who survived must’ve felt and how they would feel about other people coming in to fill their places. Thomas already experienced that feeling of having someone close to everyone in his squad die only to have the spot filled by new blood the day after. It was difficult, it was frustrating, it was almost insulting – the man that he knew in that spot wouldn’t have ever done anything like what that rookie did, but that man was gone and this rookie is trying his best. In that moment, his thoughts spiraled into a deeper and deeper hole, thinking about how many friends he’s lost over the years, how many funerals he’s attended, how many times he was called in to be a replacement for someone like that – new blood. He didn’t expect a warm welcome, he expected to be treated how others treat replacements – with disgust and contempt.

He sat back in his seat and tried to get some sleep, Thomas knew that he and the others probably won’t have much of it.


Thomas arrived at an air field a few miles away from Hereford Base was, from his window he could see a familiar looking sight – a truck with tarp spread along the top. He rubbed his eyes for a second and blinked twice, he pushed himself off of the passenger seat and grabbed his gear and took a stride towards the exit. As he climbed out he first gave the men meeting him a crisp salute and a firm handshake and without a word he climbed into the truck as quickly as he came out the plane. He remembered the times where he and his other teammates would have to ride alongside their dead, covered in white or black tarp, he wondered whether or not the previous rainbow operators had to do the same after Bellagio.

He was distracted from his inward thoughts by the mere smell of the country, it was so different in many ways; it was a lot colder than the Philippines, it wasn’t raining as much, and unlike the Philippines the U.K. actually experiences snow cover. Although, it wasn’t cold enough yet for snow to start falling.

When he had arrived at Hereford base, he grabbed his equipment and went into the designated building where other operators were gathering. Unlike the others, he carried his equipment, not because of pride or a false sense of machismo, but because he didn’t really need much it was tolerable to carry – but because he didn’t want to be the odd one out, he placed his bags near the entrance to retrieve later. Inside he was met with an array of different operators from different corners of the globe with different backgrounds and levels of experience. He was surprised to see some people in battle dress uniforms and just uniforms in general, was it to represent pride in the patch? He didn’t know, he wasn’t even wearing a BDU or a coverall uniform – essentially he was unidentifiable in terms of nationality. However, he wasn’t the only one there who was the odd one out, someone came in with just casual clothes – in his mind it was practical, they weren’t expecting combat, but he was armed for one if ever it occurred. Inspecting the room further, it was apparent he was one of the shortest operators in the room, it wasn’t even a contest and his mocha colored skin also stood him out from the crowd, his facial features were different to those who came from South America – no he wasn’t from anywhere very familiar and it was understandable really, the Philippines isn’t really big on the international scene, the only people who would have the tiniest chance of recognizing where he’s from are Americans who’ve trained in the Philippines during their joint training exercises.

It was then he noticed something else, everyone in the room was just standing there, waiting for something, no one had ordered them to do anything the past few minutes they were here. Without warning, a man arrived and some gave him a crisp salute as he entered the room, he too followed their example – better to be respectful than to be sorry later. When the man signaled at ease, Thomas immediately thought back to his drills, feet apart, hands behind the back left over right in a cross. When the man finally spoke, he wasn’t at all surprised with what he had to say – they were replacements, they were new blood, rank or status didn’t mean jack here because in that man’s eyes they were all equally unimpressive. He understood why, he had gone through this with the Scout Rangers and the Light Reaction Regiment, it would’ve been foolish for him to even think he could get a free pass in Rainbow – no he had to earn their respect and their trust the hard way.

When he started to call out names for each recruit, he heard virtual silence until one operator responded with a loud resounding “Sir” and a salute followed by another who followed her example but this time without a salute. When his name finally came up, he replied in the same way they did – in the same way he has done for many years, “Sir!” he gave a crisp salute with a satisfying heel click, and a straight, no nonsense expression on his face; when the man moved on, he just as quickly and crisply snapped back into his at-ease position.

When all was said and done, he stepped up to take an envelope from the desk and opened it. He read and double checked each word before turned around and head towards the exit of the Operations Department not even noticing the awkward conversation between two operators. He grabbed his bags and head towards the living quarters. He read his moniker aloud, “Armoury…” his Filipino accent was showing through, “Ah-rrr-moh-rrri” rolled Rs and stiff vowels, not to mention the fact that his accent doesn’t pronounce V, F, and Th. The V sounds come out as B sounds, F sounds come out as P sounds, and Th gets replaced with either D sounds or T sounds depending on the word. He does have formal education in English and attempted to tone down his accent, with moderate success, it was a little more articulate, but with a few quirks here and there.

When he arrived in the living quarters, he started to look for his assigned room. Walking through the corridors he found that the others had already found their room assignments and were making themselves comfortable. When he got to his room, he opened the door and was surprised to see how big and well furnished it was. It was almost like living in his parents old apartment, there was a single bed, there was a TV in a corner, there was a fully equipped kitchen and a stocked fridge, there was even a desk in the other corner that was presumably to allow operators a clean workspace to clean their weapons and equipment. It was home away from home, but somehow he knew they might need it. He started to unpack and arrange his things and prepare for tomorrow, a few minutes of warming up and another few minutes for a short burn routine. At night he cooked himself Adobo and rice for dinner and got to bed to gather strength for what was to come.

This le final edit, so seeing as it's approved and I didn't change much, I assume I can move this over to the character tab.

Yeah, upon second thought I might go with the Filipino insurgent.
on an unrelated note, my Tagalog sucks so hey, not much I can immerse with

I can help you with your Tagalog if you'd like, but really it depends on what island and region your Filipino is coming from. Because they could end up not using Tagalog at all but rather a regional dialect, like Visayan, Ilocano, or Cebuano, etc.
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