Fragments of Humanity,Sphere Roster

Riddle78

Riddle78

Four Thousand Club
This is the signup and character reference thread for my RP "Fragments of Humanity". If you wish to participate,post a character sheet here and wait for me to green-light it.


Reference Material


After Action Report


Character Skeleton




​



Name: First and last name. A middle initial would be a nice touch.


Age: As rebels,ages tend to vary wildly. But please keep in mind that if you're sixteen,people will make very conscious efforts to keep you at base.


Sex: Male or female. Simple,really.


The Mark: If you possess The Mark,you're a Solar. This is a Yes/No field. If Yes,I'll be putting you under my microscope. Solars are powerful,and should only be played by confident roleplayers.


Appearance: How your character looks. Since The Mark is a VERY distinctive thing,and very visible,you'll probably be unable to find an image that matches what you want. I'll accept images or descriptions,as well as images with a description alongside them explaining certain things. If you're using an image,please use the spoiler tags.

To put something in spoiler tags,first you punch in "SPOILER=X" where X is your spoiler's title,like "Appearance". Replace the quotation marks with square brackets [] where appropriate. Next line,add your image and/or words. Make a new line,and input "/spoiler",once more in square brackets [] without quotation marks. This helps cut down on visual clutter in the thread.


Belongings: This is important. What does your character own,besides the clothes on their back? Belongings can include armour,weapons,or even transport like ships and ATV's.


Background: What brought your character to the Sphere? If they're a Solar,how did they evade/escape the Grace's clutches?
 
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Is there a way to hold a slot for a little? I'll try and hop onto this when I get home (At a tech school class currently) but I've got guests over probably the rest of the night.
 
I'll be posting approvals/denials in batches,or if I see a truly exceptional character (either exceptionally amazing,or exceptionally horrible). You're fine.
 
  • Carlisle M. Baroque
  • 42


Background:

​



A member of what was once the largest collective of minds since 200 years ago when the survivors made a conscious effort to better their lives as a whole. The Union of Resplendent Minds was a collection of 30 of the smartest people gathered in one place, initially the group had been a secret and met beneath the noses of The Grace. Their mission was to find a way to create or find a new source of water and waylay the factions iron grip on the populace.


At the time Carlisle was but the lowly apprentice of Simon Harlon; one of the most brilliant minds since the revered Steven Hawking of Myth and Legend. The man was the founder of the URMs and pioneered several projects that all ended in failure after failure. The group however maintained hope and continued their secret plans in underground bases or abandoned towers, wherever they could conduct their research without the Grace's knowing.


Finally after five years of failure Professor Simon stumbled upon a success, however on the night of his great reveal the group was found out by a squad of the Grace's elite force. Amidst the confusion and death Simon managed to bestow Carlisle with his tablet The Password is Genesis! In order to access the files you need to use a second password which is -ach!!! The man was shot down, his chest smoldering but in his final words he left a clue My-my journal, it's in the journ......... With that Carlisle ran from the scene of carnage, his escape made possible by the other researchers he used as human shields.


With nowhere left to turn Carlisle went into hiding, he didn't speak to a soul and he turned to scavenging the most dangerous places in order to survive. Rumors of the URMs began to spread, The Grace used propaganda to smear the group's reputation, this seemed to intrigue Sphere who sought out any information of the group's former members. Eventually the trail lead them back to Carlisle. The entreated him to join their ranks to help them against the The Grace and he agreed, not because he had a grudge against the faction of extremists but because his former teacher would have wanted it.


So now he works as a scientist/engineer for The Sphere while trying to decypher the password to access his teacher's research, the research that could provide the human race with a twinkling of hope for the future.
 
Name: Mel J. Walker


Age: 23


Sex: Female.


The Mark: Yes


Appearance:

war_paint_by_ajgiel-d6h2atg.jpg

Mel bares the face of a marked one, exaggerating it as a taunt to The Grace with three simple blue lines painted over what disfigured and damned her.


Belongings: That there gun on her shoulder, a hunting knife, an old bullet proof vest she has rarely worn, a decent amount of clips, and a small box of mediwraps and paint, a pouch of money.


Background: Mel was taken by the Grace at the age of a mere 9 months. A rare occurrence brought by the vindictive wrath of a neighboring woman who had lost her child to the Grace as well. The night she had cried for help, to stop them, to bring back her child, and Mel's family, among others just watched, before turning their backs, had brought her a short lived home.


The faces of her parents are something completely lost to her, as is what island she had been from and she's not sure that the name she bears was even the one she held at birth, or just a creation by the Grace. She was drilled with the same messages, the same ideas day after day, trained, conditioned to one of their war objects. She had been young, and had no hope of resisting. She was their's and only their's for twenty years.


They're mistake had been assigning her for a collection with Thomas, a high ranking officer. The collection should have been simple, despite the mother resisting giving up the child. Removing her would have been adequate and no risk had been posed. But Thomas gave the order for another member of the team to kill her. And so they did.


That should have been enough, but it wasn't. Mel watched Thomas murder the woman's two normal children as they lay sleeping in bed. Before they had grabbed what they had come for, and left. He falsified the report, saying the deaths were necessary as they posed greater risks to the subject's life and could not be subdued. In truth, he just wanted them dead for the ignorance of their mother.


Then had come the murmers of a massacre that had happened from a water rationing mission. Where a man had thrown a rock, but rather than leave it at him, the whole place had been slaughtered. The views of something glorious were becoming more stained with blood of the innocent. Her thoughts had whirled, the thing she had given her life to was not what she wanted to be apart of. Their views were corrupted, and she had become aware.


As she opened her eyes and saw more of what was going on, and less of the beauty of the Grace, their conditioning wore off completely. And she found the almost perfect way out. On a collection mission, they had ducked low to an island, offering to scout out the grounds as a bonus, she got herself to the outside of the ship without much worry to her team as to actual motive. When they island had come into alignment, she had yelled, almost as if she had slipped, and jumped from the ship.


Her landing had been good, telekinesis slowing her down and keeping her alive, though her location had been lucky. A few yards earlier with her stunt, and she would have missed the edge. One of the branches she had knicked on her way down had provided the last piece to her plan. Using her knife to make the wound larger, she smeared blood at the edge, dragging it towards the end of the island as if she had hit the ground, and ended up sliding off the edge after impact. A body-less death.


From there, she had moved into a more secluded area, skirting into hiding. She did business carefully for what she needed, often in the late evenings. She sneaked onto ships to hop islands, and from time to time helped odd people defy the Grace, without risking their lives. When different families caught wind of the Grace doing an inspection for marked, in towns that had accepted her oddity, she had for the day, kept those that were like herself hidden, leaving the Grace with empty leads and less fuel for their forces until they left.


In the three years since her 'death', Mel was becoming bolder with actions opposing The Grace, using the very skills they had taught her, against them. An ironic turn of fate from someone that had once been a blind, faithful dog of their own creation.
 
Name: Atticus Hawke


Age: 24


Sex: Male


The Mark: Nope.


Teenage_Denzel_by_semokan.jpg



Belongings: Atticus has a lot of old books in his quarters. He's something of an intellectual, and teaches many classes based on old school material to the children and teenagers of the Sphere from these books. In addition to his massive collection of books, Atticus has a penchant for firearms, specifically small arms like pistols and small rifles/machine guns. His quarters are also littered with plenty of old parts, and he has managed to re-piece two working pistols of .45 caliber back together, along with a 5.56 assault rifle.


Along with those, Atticus does have a fully fleshed out quarters within the Sphere, and has many basic amenities that reside within his quarters.


Background: Atticus was always a questioning and skeptical soul. Despite the good The Grace had worked, he felt it in his gut, he knew better than to trust them. He turned out quite right, when other, braver people with his thoughts began to rebel and fight against the tyrannical Grace.


He kept his head down for a while, but hearing about those with more guts than him die and disappear day after day filled him with dread and a sense of indecency. He had to pay it back. He had to do something.


Atticus started by organizing a small neighbourhood group, teenagers and young adults only, of which he was the ringleader. They got together, and when they did, they talked. Simple words were shared, opinions deliberated on, and viewpoints formed and altered. They managed to create an anti-Grace foothold in the community they lived in, and passed it on, community by community, within the teenagers and young adults, sowing the seeds of distrust and scepticism of The Grace.


This went on for nearly a year. It all came tumbling down eventually though, when the other communities, not under Atticus' direct guidance, began openly protesting and spewing words. They were slaughtered mercilessly, and Atticus' name and reputation were instantly public knowledge. His parents, strong believers in The Grace and it's wonders, tried to turn him in, but Atticus managed to escape his own household, and the community.


A couple of his closest friends accompanied him on his escape, bringing weapons with them. This was where Atticus' love affair with guns began, the first time he held one was also the first night he killed someone. The feeling was incredible. Not so much the killing itself, but the power, being able to defend himself, who was less than a muscular specimen of a male, was intoxicating.


The night of their escape, Atticus and his three companions were ambushed by a handful of Grace believers from within the community, friends of his parents. They however, did not expect the four kids to have weapons. A fight broke out in the woods they were sneaking through.


The scuffle ended quickly, and in it, Atticus was separated from his friends. This was where Atticus' memory of the night ends, with a sharp pain in the back of his head as he hid in a bush, trying to get a better view and plan for the situation.


He awoke elsewhere, a pristine white room, with a smiling old man asking him if he wanted to take up the fight against The Grace on more equal terms.


Atticus nodded yes.
 
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Name: Remielle Castiel


Age: 25


Sex: Female


The Mark: No.


Appearance:

sdaa.jpg

Belongings:

  • A crossbow
  • A quiver of bolts on her hip.
  • A backpack about the length of an iPad
  • Food rations
  • A Swiss Army Knife. Just in case.
  • A helmet for combat. She does need to protect her noggin


Background: Remielle was born to a family of soldiers in the Sphere. Her mother was given a short maternity leave, but eventually had to return to her work. This left her in the care of some of the younger people and older people in Sphere. They took care of her until she was about five when she could mostly take care of herself. They often gave her several errands to run and didn't treat her any differently than a regular Sphere soldier. This was hard on. Her at first, but after a few months of working she got used to the treatment.


When Remielle got into her teenage years her parents and some of the other soldiers taught her how to use some of the weapons they used as everyone expected her to become a soldier when she grew up. She wasn't too good at any of the close combat weapons and the soldiers figured that was good,because you'd need to fight the enemies at a distance. She wasn't good at many of the projectile weapons, but she was decent at one: the crossbow.


They started her off with the slow crank-powered crossbow and figured they'd start on aiming. This took a little bit, but she eventually got the hang of it. They gave her a hand loaded crossbow after they thought that she'd gotten prett good at the crank crossbow since it was much too slow to use in combat. After her lessons everyday she would work on loading the crossbow and working out as she knew she needed to have good arm strength to load the crossbow.


After a few more years she became old enough to actually become a soldier in Sphere. They welcomed her in, but didn't put her on the battlefield immediately. She was still too young and needed some more training. Finally, when she had completed her training she was able to go onto the battlefield, and she was ready for it too.
 
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Name: Dahlia Cortes


Age: 26


Sex: Female


The Mark: Yes

Dahlia Cortes stands six foot eight and weighs one hundred and forty pounds. Her fair skin and bright ear-length blonde hair cause many to assume she's just some dumb blonde,which tends to result in a rant if these musings are voiced. Her blue eyes are often described as being "Cold as ice",and generally narrowed in suspicion. The defining feature,however,just like all other Solars,is The Mark,which plunges down the center of her forehead from the hairline,sweeps out to either side from the tip of the nose and under the eyes to the mandible joint,and then plunges back down,stopping just above the chin. She has an athletic frame,and wears a flight jumpsuit,coloured black,with yellow arms,shoulders,and a yellow stripe tapering down the back from the shoulders. She wears a pair of heavy brown work boots. The suit has several pouches attached,containing this and that.


Belongings: Dahlia's most prized possession is an old,battered basketball,a gift from her mother. Aside from that,she keeps a pouch of small,easily thrown rare-earth magnets on hand at all times,in order to scramble Brigadiers. She keeps a pair of rock spikes handy for climbing in another pouch. Finally,she has a steel bladed boomerang. She has a watch built into her jumpsuit's left sleeve.


Background: Dahlia Cortes was born on a tiny fragment to her mother and father. The fragment was so tiny that they lacked neighbors. They lived a private life,away from the Grace,only seeing occasional patrols. When Dahlia was born with The Mark,however,her parents knew that this was going to change,sooner rather than later. One night,her father simply vanished. No one knew if he abandoned them,was taken by the Grace,or if he thought it was better to die than be killed,and cast himself from the fragment's terminus.


Her mother looked after Dahlia from then on. Whenever the Grace came by for inspection or water deliveries,she hid her daughter in the most bizarre places. When Dahlia was able to move and talk on her own,she hid herself. The fragment had numerous natural tunnels,and it was easy to get lost in them.


Then,one day,when she was seventeen,the Grace showed up for an inspection. They came in fast,at midday. Dahlia didn't have time to hide. The Grace ship landed,wings folding upward towards the ivory monolith of a hull. The ship deposited two men,a woman,and a dozen Brigadiers onto the fragment. All three humans were Solars. The woman revealed that they suspected that there was a Solar on the fragment,and now that they were able to confirm it,they were under orders to take her away.


Dahlia's mother loved her more than life,and knew that they could no longer live a normal life. Seeing no other option,Dahlia's mother threatened to send Dahlia over the edge if the Grace collection team didn't leave. Instead,she was sent over the edge with a burst of Solar power,in order to ensure the protection of their objective.


Dahlia flew into a rage. The Grace had been responsible for her life of fear. And now the Grace are responsible for the murder of her mother. In a startling display of power for someone without training,Dahlia swept the Brigs off the edge of the fragment,and zeroed in on the Grace Solars before her. The men were quickly catapulted into the ship behind them,skeletons pulverized on impact. The woman was already in full retreat by the time the Brigs were halfway to the edge.


Before she could escape,however,Dahlia launched a single scything ray at her,severing the right arm. Before she could do anything else,however,the ship was sealed,and taking off,leaving the two men for dead. Snapping out of her rage,Dahlia realized the gravity of her situation,and did what any normal teenager would do in such a situation; shut down. She retreated indoors,and tucked her knees under her chin on her bed,basketball on her lap.


The next day,she head two ships come in. She didn't stir. After a few minutes of shouting and assorted noises,there was a knock on the door. This went on for several minutes before the door opened,and a man with a thick Irish accent called out for someone. Moments later he found Dahlia's room,and told her that he was with the Sphere,a group dedicated to fighting the Grace,and offered to take her somewhere safe from the Grace. Seeing no other option,Dahlia accepted.


Over the next nine years,Dahlia worked with the Sphere to disrupt Grace operations the world over,and sent on numerous rescue missions. She took each job with relish,seeing it as a chance to help settle an old score.
 
Name: Ajax Carson


Age: 32


Sex: Male


The Mark: No


Appearance:<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2013_08/image.jpg.f04246889199d16709fb6cf68db8d400.jpg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="4519" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2013_08/image.jpg.f04246889199d16709fb6cf68db8d400.jpg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>


Brown eyes. 6'2. 190lbs; well-muscled.


Belongings:


-Dyneema body armor covering the torso, as well as knee and elbow joints. (Dyneema is a plastic that is as strong as steel yet about 10 times lighter. I figured that it would be a rather commonly used material for body armor 300 years from now.)


-AK-47


-Military issue coilgun


-Several magazines of 7.62x39mm bullets.


-Several clips of 5mm spikes for the coilgun.


-Several waterskins


-Orange goggles which have programmed settings for night vision, thermal vision and binoculars.





Antarctica, the coldest place on earth. A frigid desert that holds 70% of the Earth's water, located at the bottom of the world.


At least, it used to be.


The Cataclysm shattered Antarctica into fragments, just like the rest of the Earth's landmasses. The largest of these fragments- what used to be the Eastern Ice Sheet- floated up to the Arctic and began to orbit around the North Pole. Hundreds of feet below the icy surface, the Eastern Ice Sheet's sub-glacial lakes froze, no longer linked to the Earth's magma core by dozens of volcanos. Any life larger than a microbe that Antarctica had sustained died during the Cataclysm. All was dormant and silent-- until the Grace arrived.


The Grace had identified the Nothern Ice (N-ICE), as the Eastern Ice Sheet was renamed, as one of the largest remaining sources of water on the planet. From The Grace's very beginnings, they made it a priority to mine the ice as efficiently as possible and protect N-ICE's mining operations from any vagabonds who sought to meddle. Military bases were established all along the Nothern Ice's coast. Soldiers were sent to N-ICE on tours of duty, made to endure minus 40 degree winters which often felt colder with the windchill and the absence of any sunlight. The winters were quiet. Rebels hardly ever attacked during the winter because so much machinery stopped working below a certain temperature.The rebels usually started to stage small stealth operations during the spring, and would launch larger, frontal assaults during the warmer summers of endless daylight.


Ajax Carson knew the rebels' attack rotation intimately after four years of being stationed at N-ICE's Kemp Land military base, from aged twenty to twenty-four. Carson had enlisted in the army at the age of nineteen, right after he had graduated from The Grace Educational Center-- a year later than most students, since intellectual pursuits were not Carson's calling. Carson had never really bought into The Grace's ideology about regulating every part of his life, from the water he drank to where he pissed, but Carson needed a job and the army seemed like a good fit for a man of his talents.


Carson entered the army at the rank of Private in The Grace's 3rd Regular Force Brigade as part of the 1st Infantry Battalion, whose companies were situated all over the coast of the Northern Ice. By the end of his tour of duty to N-ICE, he had been promoted to the rank of Specialist. Happy to be turning his back on Kemp Land, less because of the killing involved and more because he was sick of the freezing weather, Carson hoped the military would station him elsewhere after his few months of leave. He was dissapointed. When his orders came, they told Carson that he was to return to N-ICE in a month.


At that point, desertion became a viable option.


On a planet with only slightly less than one million people (the population had increased since the Cataclysm), fading away into the background was almost too easy. He cut off all of his contacts except for one useful ally that had been in his squad, who had been promoted several ranks and moved into an office job, where he controlled inventory of military equipment. Once Carson had found a ship of likeminded individuals, they began to run a smuggling operation, trading ammo and arms to rebel forces in return for money and water.


After a few years, Carson's military friend sold him out. Carson, along with his shipmates, had nearly been arrested while collecting goods at a pick-up location-- it was at that point that they sought refuge with The Sphere. Carson has been working with the Sphere ever since; for five years now. While he wouldn't be above betraying them, Carson is also aware that The Grace does not make honest deals with rebels.

 

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Name: Lemis Quinn Testrin


Nickname: Lemmy/Lemi, Lemon


Age: 21


Sex: Male


The Mark: No

<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2013_08/Iksel_(Totori).jpg.5904293e663cbef3d21bf153e61b244c.jpg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="4520" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2013_08/Iksel_(Totori).jpg.5904293e663cbef3d21bf153e61b244c.jpg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>




Belongings: This is important. What does your character own,besides the clothes on their back? Belongings can include armour,weapons,or even transport like ships and ATV's.


Strapped to his backpack


Cooking Kit:


Wok


Frying pan


Iron Skillet


Pots and pans


Spatula


Ladle


Assorted spices


Chef Knives x5


Meat Cleaver


Long Fork


Large stir spoon


Chef's hat


(more cooking supplies... didn't want to list all of them but you get the idea)


Background: The low moan and gentle cough caught Lemmy's ears as a light tug strained his shirt ever so softly. Looking down Lemmy saw a boy covered in a cake of dirt and mud spread throughout him. "D-d-do you have any.... w-w-water Mr?" The young boy wheezed again as it forced out through his dry throat. Lemmy winced as he gave a light smirk tugging the canteen strap on his waste he unscrewed the top and with a light metal tap the lid collided with the steel siding. Lemmy knelt down as his knees popped in protest to his sudden actions holding out the canteen Lemmy gaze a slight head tilt and smile as the boy grabbed the cold sides. The rim of the canteen pressed against the chapped lips of the young lad as the cold crystal liquid flowed into the small mouth refreshing and coloring the dehydrated tissues. The gentle run of water pearled on the edge of the boys lips as he continued to drink his fill as small stream of the life elixir swept whatever mud and dirt on the boys face aside as it reached the soft jaw line and fell to the dusty earth. The young boy stopped as he screwed the top back on and handed it back to Lemmy who just smiled taking his canteen back and clipping it back to his belt.


"Thank you so much mister!" The young boy giggled as he grabbed Lemmy's hand and pulled him from his knelt down position. Lemmy followed the tugging boy in a light jog as they ran through the slummed streets and back to a hole in the wall with a metal sheet for a door. As the lightly rusted door panel roared in protest from its hinges as the young boy opened it and pulled Lemmy inside. The light was low with the general surroundings painted in a low orange tainting the vision of the rats nest of a house. Lemmy was puzzled as the boy called out "Mom! Can I have a friend stay for dinner?" The mother from another room called back in a gentle tone as it soothed the feeling of anxiety Lemmy was feeling over this whole new situation. "Thats fine dear i'll be right out."


Lemmy looked towards the young boy who was smiling at him. "Are you sure thats okay." Lemmy grinned as he said this as he looked at the walls and furniture of the run down shack. "Its fine, you know your really nice mister. You're not like the others." "What do you mean others?" The mothers gentle figure pressed through the cloth doors that led from the kitchen her back turned to Lemmy and her son as she held the tray of food. "Dinner....-" Spinning she took notice of the man standing in the room. The woman froze as she stared at Lemmy setting down the tray on the table her voice jiggled slightly in a nervous tone... "w-w-whose your friend?" He's...!" The boy looked at Lemmy for a moment to help him out. "Lemis... friends call me Lemmy." Lemmy gave a slight bow as he introduced himself to the woman who was only a few years older than he was "Lemmy!" The boy smiled as he took a seat looking at the food rations below with a small grimace. "My names Meryl nice to meet you." The woman now called Meryl gave a light curtsy as she took a seat as well at the small table. Lemmy reluctantly took a seat looking at the food before him. Dried meat and stale looking vegetables and rice. "What brings you here Lemis?" "Please call me Lemmy. Those that offer their home and food to another are friends." Lemmy gave a smile as he watched the small boy fight with a piece of dried meat pulling and tearing at it with his mouth trying to tear off a chunk. "I'm here because im a traveling gourmet... trying to taste the food of this tiny world. As well as learn how to make everything." "So you are a chef." "I am...." "Im sorry but you probably wont like the dinner here." Meryl let out a little giggle after saying that as she grabbed a bit of rice with a half broken fork and put it to her mouth.


"Dont worry madam, everything tastes better with love." Lemmy peeled a piece of meat with his fingers as he took a bite. The rest of the meal was small talk and getting to know one another. After the young boy fell asleep in his tiny space of a room that only held a bed and an end table. Leaving Meryl and Lemmy to talk to one another.


"I'm sorry if Jack bothered you at all." She said as she placed the dry dishes away in the open cabinets "Don't worry, about it... hes a great boy." Meryl gave a little smile as she heard that. "I mush ask though... he wanted water earlier whats happened to your water." Meryl blinked a few times as she digested his words as slowly as the stale food in her stomach. "Barely anyone has water down here anymore..." "Down where?" "The slums..." "ahhh...." Lemmy grimaced as he had gone to the wrong area yet again. Lemmy's sense of direction was one of the worst all time constantly getting lost even when told where to go. "sorry." "Don't be... I'm not. If i wasn't the me i am now I wouldn't have Jack... and i would live through any amount of poverty or suffering to just be able to be in his life." Lemmy shifted uncomfortably at her comment as he had been raised in a privileged household. "but... the water... The Grace say everyone gets a fair share everyone is equal getting rations... but we suffer everyday because we are not equal they treat us like we are less than those above giving less ration tokens for food and water every year it gets harder and harder." Lemmy was speechless as he had only a vague idea of what being poor would be like. "I'm sorry for saying this but I doubt you would understand i mean you cook food you own nice things... you have water. You are not the same as us." Lemmy gave a soft expression as the Meryl's eyes slightly misted up with both anger and sadness. "I cook because... taste is one of the only things that makes people equal. I know it sound cheesy but im a selfish person I know that... I cook not because I love it... i mean I do but I do it so I can see peoples faces smile and light up when i serve them something. The great feeling of being told its delicious or amazing... You're right I wouldn't know how hard life is i come from a completely different world... And i'd love to change the world to make it better but im not a soldier or a king or a duke... im a Cook." Meryl gave a light smile to him. "You are kind you know that..."


Lemmy looked down at the torn strip of paper that laid in his hand. A written address on it to a place that wants to make a difference a place that wants to change the world. Lemmy looked to the sky gazing up above into the cosmos above. He quietly whispered to himself as he continued forward "Where am I..."

 

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Name: Caroline Sapphire Mortag


Age: 26


Sex: Female.


The Mark: No.

GreatWarrior.jpg

Belongings: Her armour which she wears all the time((the pic)), Her twin guns, a small dagger + two twin daggers. Seven throwing knives, a snow horse namned Thunder, a red motorcycle and a black Atv.





Caroline born within Starline Island, a few hundred miles away from the Kharzem prison, was raised in what one would call The Grace´s control. Eating what she was given by The Grace, played with what was allowed and learned what was proper. Yet she always felt something was of as her mother never liked The Grace. Never complimented them, spoke of them. Never spoke of Caroline´s father.


Caroline never understood either why The Grace guards came around every few months to check on her mother until she was seven. A guard had offended her calling her a filthy betrayers daughter and a skanks slave. Shocked she soon enough asked her mother what he meant. A small child as Caroline found out that her father was a rebel and was killed by the The Grace guards, tortured and beheaded in public. Her mother was called the wife of the betrayer awhile and was suspected to turn rebel herself thus the visits.


At thirteen she started to hate the The Grace guards and their visits, their accusations and their laws. Caroline started to do small pranks, like painting offending graffiti on The Grace flags, throwing eggs on The Grace Buildings. Nothing serious but this was only the beginning.


As much as her mother kept secrets and wasn´t quite open with her feelings, Caroline not only loved her mother but adored her. Idolised her. And so when The Grace decided to end her life, Caroline started to rebel herself.


At first she decided to leave her home Island at the age of sixteen, secretly as to not be caught by the guards and went on a journey full of small, self-induced missions of destroying The Grace. Three years later she understood that she couldn´t bring down the organization herself so she decided to seek out the only rebels she knew about. The Spheres. It took one whole year for her to find anyone associated with The Spheres. Even then it was hard to get this person to get her on board as she was deemed untrustable. Six months later of small ´prove-yourself-missions´ and she was finally in.


Now Caroline has gained her fairly good place, doing both small and big missions during the six years she has spent in the rebellion.
 
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Name: Arcus Lemures


Age: 24


Sex: Female


The Mark: Yes


Appearance:

Adc1a93.jpg
-Not seen on picture- The telltale reddened and bumpy flesh covers the entirety of her left face and then some, with only the area near her ears even remotely safe from the Mark’s spread. From hairline onwards, the skin is disfigured, with tendrils reaching slightly away and curling around her ears, ending abruptly as it curls towards her neck. The main portion possesses a few more tendrils that reach across the right side of her face, with one encroaching upon the bridge of her nose, and two more upon her forehead. The edges of the Mark are irregular, almost similar to jagged soundwaves in appearance.


Lemures is no more than 5’5” in height, and possesses a slight and light build, making her seem like a waif compared to most of her other peers. Her short composition, however, belies strong arms, a detail most not likely noted due to her rather obscuring sleeves of her traditional wear.


Her skin tone and her faded hair colour implies that she might be suffering from albinism of some sort, though her eyes are of a clear teal colour.
Belongings:

  • A yew longbow coupled with a quiver filled with assortments of arrows, mostly broadhead and bodking arrows. The arrows possess metal shafts that appear to have the ability to have their points removed to exchange for another type of point.
  • A red-hilted katana. Besides its blood-red hilt, there is nothing else special about the sword.
  • Her make-shift smithy in the ship possesses enough tools of trade of a blacksmith to forge out basic medieval weaponry, with a unique mold made just for the production of her arrows, the deadly buggers that they are.


Background:




-Humans are the scourge of the Earth.


-The resistance, futile as it is, needs to be wiped.


-I am of the Grace, born and raised into it. I will bring purity to this corrupted earth.


-Even if it means that I have to crawl my way through this blasted wasteland by myself.


-Tausendfüssler went down two hours ago. Enemy fire. I will find these enemies and cut them down. Sustained injury to side. Blood flows.


-Still cannot find way out of this damned place. Lacking items to create even a distress signal.


-.....


-Signs of life found. Humans.


-Unable to engage. 4 hours have passed since Tausendfüssler went down. Bleeding out.


-Further annotation regarding sighted humans recorded. Middle-aged, 50 years? With child. Not hostile.


-Eradicate? Yes / No


- > Yes


-Unable to comply. Physical strength below healthy levels. I fall before I can even draw my sword.


-Darkness.


-.....


-I wake. Wound has been treated.


-The humans.


-They speak. They know who and what I am. I query why they had left me to perish. Was I not the enemy?


-"Out of kindness". To aid an enemy as he lies in his throes of death. Negative, a fabled monster. How....peculiar.


-I attempt to excuse myself from their abode. They will not tolerate that, despite my urgency.


-Self-query: why do I rush so? Am I...afraid of them? Or afraid for them? Unable to comprehend.


........
It’s been a year.


Why? Why do the humans treat me as one of their own? Have I not slaughtered them by the thousands for all my life? Why do they still take me in and treat me back to health? Even as I roam the small civilisation with my scars, they fear me not. As a matter of fact, it has become a habit of the children to flock me and request I perform ‘magic’ for them. Especially so for the child of the couple that nursed me back to health. Such indomitable stubbornness, he has. Kevin, as his name was, often pestered me to utilise the powers of a Solar. The radiation was surely quite lethal from here, but I doubt he would understand what I meant without me having to spend an entire hour or more to explain to him. He would often pout there and then about me being a stick in the mud. The same child tugged at my heartstrings today, making me realise how much of a human I am. Perhaps we aren’t all that different. Kevin, just this morning, came to my quarters, the guest room I had taken up in the couple’s house, and embraced me, before asking if he could refer to me as an older sister. I can’t tell what came over me, but I teared as I embraced him back. Mayhaps I had been alone for far too long. To have a family was…strange. I grow soft-hearted to the humans, but I doubt that that is a bad thing.






The peace that Arcus Lemures, as she had called herself and referred to as in the small town, experienced was short lived. It had only been a year and almost another half before her original faction began to descend upon the peaceful lives that the town had lived for quite a while. The Grace were merciless to the townsfolk that attempted to rise up against them, leading to a small slaughter of the militiamen that fought. When Lemures heard that her ‘father’ was to be deployed on the next wave to halt the assault, she left the household and took up her original arms and went far ahead in time from the second wave. The Brigadiers soon found arrows jammed into their vital circuits as she took them down one by one from the shadows, returning the favour she had once dispensed for them. By the time the second reinforcements had arrived, the humans found nothing but powered down Brigadiers with Lemures massaging her sore right arm. A year and a half of not drawing her bow had made the muscles ache so. Another Solar stood in the distance, a railgun in its hands, its physique shrouded by the Grace armor that it wore. The sun shone bright in the sky as Lemures regarded her opponent carefully, as the other Solar did the same. With the radiation of pure power emanating from either of them, the militia backed off. Once the townsfolk were clear of the fallout that could technically happen between the both of these monsters, Lemures’ hand shot to her arrow, extracted it from her quiver and nocked it on her twine. The opposing Solar took a step back, steadied the railgun and aimed it straight at Lemures, who fell to one knee and drew back the string to its full length.


What happened next could not be described, since all that had been seen from the watchtower was a blinding flash that near seared the corneas of the guardsman who had decidedly attempted to sneak a peek with his binoculars. The arrow had found its mark, cleaving through the powerful magnetic-powered shot and impaled the Solar in the chest, where its heart lay. Drained, Lemures stood up unsteadily and returned to her home, where she patted her younger brother’s head and fell into a heap onto her bed and fell into a deep sleep.


When the news that a rebellion was going up against the Grace, Lemures departed from the town to join up immediately. If there was something she could do to protect the humans she had so fallen in love with, this was definitely it. She is one of the newest crew members of the rebellion, playing the role of a part-time smithy who crafts various arrowheads and arrow shafts, along with medieval weaponry made of whatever metal or ore that the team can find, as well as an on-the-field ‘sniper’ of sorts.
 
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I would, but things recently are getting a little busier in life, and I'm not positive how active I would be able to be.
 
@Spirit Fox,if you're unsure,then err on the side of caution. I wish you the best.


Now,since everyone got around to making their character backgrounds,let's get judgement underway.


@ninbinz ,Carlisle M. Baroque,42 years of age. Aside from the horse-drawn cart,APPROVED! I don't think a horse-drawn cart will be useful when the world is made of an uncountable number of floating islands on random orbits around the Earth's core.


@Esme ,Mel J. Walker,23 years of age,Solar. APPROVED! Let's see what happens~


@Coro ,Atticus Hawke,24 years of age. APPROVED! The Grace probably has a warrant out on you.


@Toaster Muffins,Remielle Castiel,25 years of age. APPROVED! I'm assuming you have both bodkin and broadhead bolts.


@Riddle78 ,Dahlia Cortes,26 years of age,Solar. APPROVED! When in doubt,push the plot forward.


@Rafi ,Ajax Carson,32 years of age. APPROVED! However,I'd like to note that the Earth can't sustain a population much greater than a million in it's present state. Might wanna drop that down. And you're also on the Grace's #3 Most Wanted spot. Right below Dahlia (#2) and Mel (#1).


@Humor ,Lemis Quinn Testrin,21 years of age. APPROVED! The Sphere can always use a decent cook,and he'll easily become the "face" of the Sphere.


@HeartBrokenIceQueen ,Caroline Sapphire Mortag,26 years of age. DENIED. There are numerous issues with your sheet. Where would have Caroline gotten the armour? And why did she get it? What kind of guns are your twin guns? Pistols? Machine guns? Mortars? Why would she have a horse when the islands are generally quite small and floating in the air? Kharzem is mobile,so nothing would be solidly near it for any amount of time. The Grace keeps appearances,so they don't do public torture or beheadings. If they execute someone,it's a firing squad. The Sphere is also quite paranoid. They don't take applicants. They seek out their recruits,either rescuing them or contacting them in secret. Sorry Icy,but there's more holes in this one than a Dutch dam of Swiss cheese.


@Ineffectivd ,Arcus Lemures,24 years of age,Solar. APPROVED! I hope you like bastardly plots.
 
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