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    1. Monacho 6 yrs ago

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@Monacho

Not sure what you mean about the rainbow around his balaklava. Also, hydra-shok seems to be really quite expensive- not sure if the S-SWAT would like someone using it over, say, the standard issue silvered HP rounds that everyone else uses. Also, lots of knives- one should have a bipod :P.


Specified the rainbow bit to being a small decal (Because who hates rainbows?). Changed shok to standard HP. I honestly think the knives were just my inner knife-nut coming out, lol. Changed assault and marksman to both be the SOG SEAL, and opted out the Bk7 (found that it wouldn't make much sense for either. Too heavy and too utilitarian).




Olin Ingersson Holmström

Monday Evening, Swan Songs


Hey! Is the party really over for you!? The words cut crisply through her mind, interrupting the serious internal argument Olin had going on. Her thoughts - for some strange reason - didn't exactly want to cooperate with themselves, and she was sure that if any of the bystanders she passed happened to be telepathic the both of them would be put in an Institution. She paused her stroll before looking back with squinted eyes.

She could make out the figure. Had she been at the...? Olin had no time to ask, as the woman explained herself. She cocked her head the slightest afterwards. Xia. Huh, that was her name. And Xia also seemed to be quite the lightweight. Although she didn't seem drunk, some tipsyness began to show, and Olin harbored some obvious reluctance. Though as a wiseman once said, "Getting into shit is better with someone else."

That she was sure of. Plus, she figured the woman's age could come in useful if any drastic situations occured.

Olin grinned the slightest before licking her lips, thinking over what could be any worse than getting drenched by sprinklers. After a while she shrugged, throwing her hands up, "The night's never over. I was thinking about drying off at my place, then hitting up a few spots."

"Promise I won't kill you, or steal your organs," She ran a finger through her hair, before quickly adding. "Olin. But call me whatever you want."

Of course she didn't care to go into what things usually entailed when hanging-out with her. She reasoned that Xia seemed more mature, and was still lucid enough to make her own decisions. And Olin was never quite the one to push the more 'experimentive' parts of her life on others. She didn't exactly wait for the other to accept the request before beginning on her journey once again. They were already a little past the half-way point, so there was no time for idle conversations, especially with the added risk of illness.

Though she wasn't heartless. She slowed down her pace the slightest, before
looking over her shoulder in a way to reassure the other was still free to tag along.


@King Tai
Plan to have a CS up tomorrow.

Quick question. Since Assault Support will be uncommonly deployed, would it be possible for a person planning to be one also have their character trained in another field until called on for support?

EDIT: Nvm, I think I just misread the loadouts at the time.
No problems with that
@King Tai

You forgot the bow-chicka-wow-wow. I-I mean, uh, luckily all of our characters are civilized, perfect individuals so that'd never happen in the Sol universe
@PrinceAlexus
Finally cranked a post out. Was going through the oddest circumstances of pure coincidence these past few days, but luckily with the break coming up I'll be back to being free.
Olin Ingersson Holmström

Monday ???, Swan Songs


"I didn't mean-" Olin's face dropped the slightest at Victoria's response, realizing that she should've just acted civilized, for once. Of course she really was a douchebag, but for a rare moment in her life she hadn't exactly meant the words to take such a person turn. It made her feel... Bad, but she couldn't summon the energy to vindicate herself. Instead she allowed the less than convincing sentence the hang in the air as the smaller woman turned to talk to someone else.

Even if she had wanted to, or was the type that adamantly poured out 'sorrys' instead, she couldn't. Not because of of apathy, or morals, or the fact it just wasn't that night - she really couldn't. Just a few seconds had passed before a shrieking noise pierced the jazz music, or at least what was left of it. Olin could only give out a few breathless curses as water began to spritz down, signaling screams and what felt like an army of footsteps. She decided to exit in a manner considered 'casual-panic'. All of the noises seemed to slur together, overpowering all of her senses, eliciting panic. The water seemed to go from falling down to miraculously appearing on her skin. Her vision went between a splotchy blur - perhaps it was the liquor - to the haziness of a storm. She allowed the crowd to carry her out of the door in a fluid motion, still a bit out of it, yet looking as nonchalant as an otter.

On the outside she recognized a few faces. Most in worse shape than her (with an exclusion of those that had chosen to wear full-white. Then she could tell they were in more shape), with miniature pools hanging off them, or shouting for some type of assistance. One was Victoria, who seemed to be in an unparalleled frenzy about... Her sister? She could vaguely remember the woman engaging in some type of altercation with one of the boys on stage. She fought to put the pieces together, but wound up with nothing. Though she knew she'd inhabit the same emotions if it was one of her brothers, or her own sister, she couldn't force herself to go over. "...It'll just be awkward," She thought aloud, sighing as chill began to come over her.

But someone could put it into much better words than herself. From where she stood the words became a whisper, but it was clear enough to make out someone had said "shit-show". That was beyond the truth. And Olin didn't want to be around whenever they found the cause, or if there was any concern for the police to show up. Considering there was a reasonable tension among some of the partygoers, there was a good chance something was bound to happen. But she wasn't exactly wanting to give up on the evening just yet. Maybe if she went home and changed... Give her a reasonable amount of time to get warmer... She could at least salvage it by hitting up a club, or perhaps drunk karaoke.

She began the walk towards her apartment, eager to get away from the chaos ensuing.


@Pilatus@Furiosa@Robo27@aladdin_sane
@King Tai@Voltus_Ventus@Pilatus
@RabidPorcupine@PrinceAlexus@RoccanIronclad
Primarily to de-clutter my mind, but it also helps with memory + reading issues I have. Plus writing is already a passion for me. Pretty much a win/win scenario across the board.
Right-o, Hope I am not stepping on toes, I feel like I am missing sections of post or something, I have been sick for a week now, and have not been at my best cognitively.


The best Viking is a well Viking! I'm sure everyone understands. Rest up.


I'll most likely be replying later on today at some point.


Location; Washington Square
Interacting With; No one.




"~And don't forget, if someone makes you uncomfortable, punch them in the throat." Her father's sing-song voice burst out of the house just before she was able to close the door. Her cheeks felt a burst of warmth as the relatively cool air began to rasp against them. She looked around her neighborhood to make sure nobody had overheard or called the police for a domestic dispute.

Alden began to regret dropping by his house beforehand. Though most of his hour long, dad-ecture had consisted of staying away from the wrong people and breathing exercises, she could tell that he was trying hard to hide his actual fear. It was the first time that she'd be attending the Founder Day celebration by herself, which usually drew in large crowds of townspeople and tourists alike. It was a situation in which her anxiety could easily get the better of her. And that was without the ever-present thought that something, or someone, would be lurking in the shadows around her. Large events with some vendors that supplied alcohol often didn't mix-well with humans or supernaturals alike.

The girl knew much to well from hanging around any member of her family while intoxicated. Some stupid fight was sure to happen, and knowing her luck, she'd probably be involved in some shape or form. But she couldn't give herself time to debate whether or not she'd go. If she had, it'd easily turn into a 'maybe next year' and another one, after that. Plus she had a commitment to fulfill. Instead she simply fixed the floppy, set of dog ears on her head, before trudging towards Washington Square nervously.

It was no loss to her why she had volunteered to help man the (so creatively named) Annual Petting Booth. The feeling of 'purpose' combined with other's in constant proximity gave her an ample amount of security. Each year the local animal shelter would give some of it's furry occupants enough room to stretch their legs within a fenced enclosure, while everyone in sight spoiled them. They were also up for adoption at discounted rates which led to the month with the lowest put-downs. That was enough to spark warmth into the heart of Alden, along with the added catch that it wasn't exactly 'working' if you could get a break whenever you wanted, or have the opportunity to chill-out with cuddly animals. Sure she had to dress 'stupidly' - the aforementioned ears combined with a rather oversized hoodie with superhero dogs prancing about - but it was a hard bargain to pass up.

Her eyes scanned the crowd absently as she coddled one of their recent admits, Marco, gently. Every so often she'd feel the faintest ounce of warmth shoot up her wrists. It was something she had steadily learned to ignore. Nothing tragic would happen with so many present, unless the person orchestrating it had a small army.

"Yo, Alden." Her supervisor, Brandon, spoke, causing her to look back at him. He was a relatively lanky man that switched between intimidating and softhearted often. On the outside he looked far from the type that would usually devote his time to such matters - a shaved head, numerous facial piercings, and a slew of dark tattoos on either arm. There were many times a family would wander into the shelter, only to turn their own-selves away. Sadly, it was a price of diversity in such a small town. "Me and some of the dogs-" He looked around at the other volunteers in attendance, grinning, "-Are going to go out to eat after pack-up. Down?"

As soon as she nodded the man fistpumped the air, effectively scaring the Pomeranian nestled into his lap. She smiled as he began to console her. Promising a plethora of treats and apologizing for his "rude behavior". Alden rarely went out with co-workers. Namely, the ones that worked under her father. Though it seemed to be a 'year of new opportunities' in which she felt the need to push herself. A few months ago she would've died at the thought of wearing such attire in public or acting like a little kid. To finally... Get loose for once.

She was proud, Marco was getting the cuddle of his life, and there was the evident promise of surprise in the air.
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