Avatar of Zoey Boey

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Recent Statuses

10 mos ago
Current im 26 now
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1 yr ago
is this thing on
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2 yrs ago
Cassandra Cain
3 yrs ago
im 24 now
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3 yrs ago
Back home. I need a breather, lol.
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Spider-Man is my favorite superhero

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Here is my character! Let me know what you think, if I should change or add anything.


@Nallore@Morose

Thanks for responding so quickly. In that case, I think I may go with the daughter of Morgan La Fey, King Arthur's morally ambiguous enemy turned occasional ally. Or in the TV show Merlin, cool evil sorceress. Much less complicated and no parent killing involved. I wasn't sure how much the parents were going to be actively involved in the RP, so I just wanted to make sure!

Okay, working on a character now. Should be done today or tomorrow
@Nallore@Morose

Hello! I am very interested in this RP, but I have a proposal to make that requires both of your permission to make happen. If you don't want this to happen, I'm totally fine and I have another character concept to do as well.

My idea was for my character to be the daughter of Lancelot and Gwynevere. That would make her half-sister with Megan. But there are a few problems that could arise. I'm not sure how far along the legends are for everyone, as the only place for my character to be born is after King Arthur is dead. Because after it's all over, both Gwyn and Lance kind of disappear from most legends so they could have potentially started a life together.

But that all depends on the lore of the world.

Otherwise, I can have my character be the daughter of Morgan La Fey and King Urien. King Arthur is the fairytale I know the most about, and I think it's the most badass, so I'd like to have a character from that land one way or another if that's okay. EDIT: That or Lancelot and Elaine, but that would mean my character replaces Galahad in the lore.

Anyway, let me know what you think! I think it could create an interesting bit of drama in the RP. But again, no offense if not, I totally understand
@Nawmaing Is there a posting order or can i post again? like should i wait until u do a world update or somethin
@Jones Sparrow i don't know about anyone else but i'm totally fine with waiting like years between posts. i mean it's still the same RP, just more spread out in real time. u kno? it's fine, so don't worry about disappearing, real life comes first and it's not like you're dropping the RP. IMO the thing that makes RP's stop isn't things taking too long it's a lack of interest and personally i am not lacking in interest in continuing this RP until the end of time
Jamie Teale




"God, I fuckin' hate coffee," Jamie Teale complained, finishing off her second coffee cup of the day. One day, she wouldn't be so addicted to this stuff. It was a curse! But she got head aches without it; a bad habit left over from her academy days. Surely, military training had drilled proper sleep schedules into her subconscious, but in order to purge the sleep out of her eyes for good it always felt like she needed a cup of coffee. One day, she would kick it. No one really needed coffee, right? Fortunately she had it down to 1 or 2 cups a day, and had been for a while. Apparently, coffee was good-bad for her heart. Every couple of months a new study would come out, claiming coffee equals heart disease. The next season, someone changed their mind and now it's good for her heart. Otherwise, Jamie was a picture of good health, and coffee was the last thing she needed to crush underneath her boot heel if she was going to be certain she was 100%. Hopefully all of her other good habits would balance it out, or something. Fucking coffee. The worst.

Jamie set her obnoxious "I Hate Mondays" mug down next to her already empty tray of food. Reaching for her phone, she spent a few minutes scrolling through social media. Commenting, discussing, people made stupid or funny jokes and Jamie needed to be there to see it. What else was she gonna do during her break time?

There was an alarm, and the sound of distant explosions. Oh. So this is what she'd be doing during her break time. Who the fuck was attacking? Zipping up her jumpsuit, the young pilot exploded from her seat and dashed with her cohorts towards the lockers. Punching in her code (4321), Jamie quickly and effeciently strapped on her flight vest and buckled her helmet around her head. Her heart was beating a million miles an hour. This would be her first time in a life or death dogfight. Training was kicking in, and she was surprised at how calm she was. Adrenaline had kicked in, sure, and she was nervous, sure, but she had no doubts about stepping in that Starfighter and taking to the air to defend her homeland. From whoever the hell was stupid enough to come at them! Clicking on her comms, Jamies voice crackled to life in the air.

Teale: "Angel-2, Second Lieutenant Teale, present. I'll see y'all in the air, over."

The 104C Starfighter assigned to her was waiting in the hangar as other pilots got into theirs. It was a relic of a fighter, but Jamie wouldn't have it any other way. The 104C was an icon of Antrea, one she was proud to be flying in. If it ain't broke, don't fix it. Thing could fly like an eagle in the right hands, and Jamie was certain that her hands fit that description. As she buckled her seat belt, the news the Old Man reported began to sink in. Jackson dead? Already? Fuck! Grinding her teeth together behind her air mask, Jamie steeled herself and began taxiing out of the hangar a safe distance behind Lancer and Felix. Of course it was Vlhakia. Those imperial bastards couldn't leave well enough alone. Well, if they wanted a fight, Jamie would deliver it with a vengeance.

Teale: "Roger that. Let's remind these fuckers who they're dealin' with. Over."

The anger was already audible in her voice, even through the filter of the radio. All red huh? Already she imagined herself blasting those Vlhakian swine outta the sky, but the old man was right. Protect the base first. Then she'd go after those treacherous snakes that killed Jackson and who knows how many others already. The engines of her jet roared to life and the sound filled her ears. Power began to course through her arms as she held the flight stick. This was it. This was how things were supposed to be. She was in her element.

Breaking free of the bonds of the Earth for the first time is a feeling she'll never forget. Having complete control and freedom to go anywhere, do anything? It was a high. Even in these dire circumstance, as the landing gear lifted gently from the runway, the elation was palpable. Now, though, there was something at stake. No, everything was at stake. Everything that mattered. So the elation was subdued, and diverted into steely determination.

Eager to get into fray, Jamie's formation flying was fast and loose. As the ground became distant and undetailed, the pillars of smoke rising high into the air, Jamie's gaze fell angrily onto the oncoming bombers.

Teale: "Takin' a pass at that bomber at 3 o'clock! Over!"

Orienting the cannons toward the bomber, Jamie turned her nose toward the lumbering craft that threatened to drop it's payload on her homeland. Eyes flicking from the bomber to the escort plane, Jamie's breathing quickened and she pulled the trigger, the low buzz of machinegun fire ripping into the chill morning air.



Dareen Kahina

within the eyrie


Dareen had startled a little bit when Gennar and Mikhail entered the room, having gotten absorbed in her drawings. Quickly she tucked the charcoal utensil back into the book's spine and vanished it back into the little pocket of non-existance from which it came. Dareen responded to Gennar's stern look with an apologetic compression of her lips and raising of her eyebrows. But her gaze quickly shifted to the two unconscious survivors that were being carried into the house with them. Prisoners? Perhaps an interrogation or mind-search was under way. Faeril, however, was unconscious. How did the golden-eyed eyrien intend for the resting Black Widow to pry into the thoughts of these two people?

Curious, Dareen stood to her feet and pushed herself away from the wall quietly, following the two men inside. Dareen grimaced sympathetically as Gennar revealed his true intentions. "A torture dungeon. No home is complete without one." Dareen quietly remarked facetiously.

Warily, she eyed the prisoners. Most likely those two's day was about to get even worse. If Gennar or Mikhail asked, she would do what she could to help. Generally, only the weak willed gave into traditional torture. Though it did depend on the victim's motivation. Mercenaries and selfish people will break faster, perhaps even before the torturing starts, if they see no reason for them to suffer on someone else's behalf. True believers, on the other hand, whether they be fighting for a cause, their family, or friends, will rarely ever break. Usually they become spiteful and resilient. Dareen knew this because she had seen it first hand. Participated in it. Someone like the brothers would suffer infinite traumas before giving up someone like Faeril. Fortunately, Dareen hazarded a guess that these two thugs didn't feel that way about anyone. Perhaps they may be too afraid of their leaders to buckle, though, dreading that if they are captured by those who sent them here they would suffer an even worse fate. Guess they'd just have to find out.

When Gennar asked for help, Dareen thought she may as well make herself useful. An extra set of hands would make the work quicker. These books were old- very old. They smelled like it, and read like it too. A decent portion of the material was written in Eyrien, a language she recognized but couldn't speak or read. However some of it was in Common, and she did catch glimpses of the content within. One book was open and her eyes scanned over the dusty words. Inside were descriptions of horrific spells that could rip a witch's magic away and leave her to suffer in madness. Or spells to help mend a broken mind. "Yeesh," she commented, placing the book in the trunk with the others. Most of what she could read was more mundane, like cookbooks and recipes. A few journals going by the titles. Some of these tomes were so old and so beaten up that Dareen wondered what the point of keeping them was at all. Though it was none of her business, so she kneeled down to a nearby pile and began sifting through it once again. Finishing up quickly was important, but she did have to be careful around these old books. Some of them could fall apart if she looked at them wrong. She wondered if any of the mind-destroying technique would be used on the two men. Briefly, she reflected on the fact that they very well could have been used on her if Faeril wasn't a merciful person. Unfortunately for these two, they showed up on Faeril's door step to kill her, while Dareen was brought here by coincidence. Perhaps they weren't privy to the same mercy that she was.


Emily, or #2

Fort Hood, Texas, January 23rd.


Emily scratched idly at her balaclava as the pleasant red mist filled the room. Maybe there was someone in the house that was getting shit murdered out of them right now- but she couldn't tell if there was. All she did was press the button. At least if she killed someone with her hands there was a bit of closure. This was just...annoying! What was this thing for? Hopefully Antoine would give her the answers she wanted later. Even though she had disappointed him earlier. Which was- why- who cares what he thinks? Whatever! It didn't matter.

Watching Akira stumble out of the room, Emily couldn't help but smirk a bit. There was always something satisfying about someone getting a taste of their own medicine. Something inherently karmic about it. Antoine's voice crackled inside her communications device. "Alrighty, Antoine." She responded dutifully, making her way much more gracefully than the smaller girl out of the house. For a moment she cast a backwards glance at the gas spewing device. Well, it's not like Emily's fingerprints were in any databases. But the machinations of her handler's handlers were obsfucated and impossible to understand for someone like Emily. Emily only ever got pieces of pieces of the full picture. Only the littlest glimpse at the truth of whatever their grander goal was. So something like this was simply out of her grasp to be able to understand. A gas device in a quiet house in a military base in north Texas. Why? Who? The promised child would never know. Blinking these frustrating thoughts away, the shrub roses gratiously parted while Emily closed the window behind herself. Jogging over to the road to meet Akira and Antoine, she tried to push whoever was inside that house of her mind.

"Why didn't you just ask me to press the button if you were going to get sick from that stuff?" The tattooed creature jibed the smaller girl.

"I mean, I've known some repulsively strong perfumes in my time, but personally that stuff wasn't so bad. But if your tastes disagreed with it so much, she could'a just asked me. Personally, I thought it was nice." She continued, smiling ever so slightly. Nervously she made her way over to the car, not sure if she should take off her ski mask or not. So she just lowered her head and turned away from the rest of the base, trying to act casual. This was nuts. They were one of the worst possible places to commit an assassination- or whatever the hell that was back there.
no pew pew pls
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