The Gil
Weird Gentleman
WELCOME TO MURDER SERIES (REWINDED) RP III: INTO THE STARS!
RULES
1.) A fair warning for all: You will be VERY BORED if you don't find someone to interact with, and I'm certain of this. I've ran RP events like this for -years-, and the key to success is character interaction. Therefore, you will need to find a partner, if you don't have one, I'll find one for you.
2.) So no one is ignored, I highly suggest you skim over other people's post. You don't necessarily have to read it all, but look for your character's name! Someone may want to talk to yah.
3.) If you're a traitor, all kills are done via PM -and- after the collaboration of your fellow traitors as to who to kill. In no way are you allowed to tell what your role is to anyone, doing so will result in immediate expulsion from the Murder event. Oh, and one final thing, if you're a traitor: Pray you aren't caught, lest you be subject to the mercy of the players.
4.) If you're not aware, if you're sentenced to die by a traitor via PM... it's an insta-death! But don't fret! Once you die, there's an “afterlife” game, whose plot will be told once the first player death occurs, and eventually, you'll find your way back to the players!
5.) I can guarantee you the first day will be absolute CHAOS. Why? People will be writing prologues, trying to find partners, etc. So, like #2, try to find a partner ASAP, keep calm, and try to skim through everyone's post, searching for your name. Eventually, as the Murder game continues on, it'll come at a steady pace... well, maybe not, there are +40 people.
6.) There will be moments where I ask players NOT to post; this is usually before large updates or mid-round updates. Please comply!
7. )Please, -please-, no godmodding.
8.) As much as I'm overjoyed (I really mean it!) with everyone's participation in my Murder event, please try to be active. You don't have to dedicate hours on in to this game, it literally lasts a -month-, so you're in it for the long-run. If you can post once a day, that's perfectly fine... but, of course, the more posts, the merrier!
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
PREVIOUSLY...
Space.
A vast network of stars and lone celestial planets to the common man. To us, nothing lives here. For them, a universe in which the newly-christened Galactic Empire reigns supreme. All races, creeds, and governments pay homage to the Emperor and his Apprentice, Darth Vader- rejection results in death. It results in the genocide of a million, perhaps,billions of civvies inhabiting your home world.
It is unwise to challenge the Empire.
For your planet, your galaxy, the multiverse...
IS NOTHING TO THE EMPI-
((A jive '80s guitar solo hums in the distance...))
Hm?
“WOOOOO HOOOOOOOO!”
A young 35 year old Caucasian male whooped excitedly from his junker's cockpit, idly dodging a barrage of TIE fighter laser cannons harrowing his ship. A loud, obnoxious tune—at least, according to the Imperial pilots—rang from the Empire's comm-links, transmitting from, as they discovered moments ago, this “Star Lord's” 1980s FM Radio.
I walked along the avenue...
A little raccoon man... thing... laughed like a lunatic as he swung his manned turret in a 45 degree angle, firing off a long burst, a super-heated blast detonating one the TIE Fighters in an explosion of bright orange and yellow...
“That's right baby! Right in the freakin' kisser!”
I never thought I'd meet a girl like you...
The remaining four TIE fighters flew into a diamond-shaped formation, their squad leader dead, killed by some damn anthropomorphic raccoon.
Meet a girl like you.
An Imperial pilot glared at the junker's rear, an inscription 'The Milano' was shoddily sprawled across in black ink. The junker, or 'The Milano', was sleek and futuristic-looking, but old, even by Rebel Alliance standards, beaten up, and it's blue-yellow-and grey frame riddled with dust.
With auburn hair and tawny eyes...
Banking to the right, a TIE fighter swirled elegantly around, adjacent to The Milano, training it's twin-linked ion cannons menacingly toward a nearby engine...
The kind of eyes that hypnotize me through...
BOOM!
A powerful shot plowed straight into The Milano's right engine, stalling it in a burst of sparks and debris. Large chunks of metal, wire, and gas pumped out lifelessly into space...
“Quill, we're going down!” Screamed a fair, green-skinned female.
Hypnotize me through.
The young male, named Quill, looked out into the depths of space: A massive, moon-sized space station met them. He rolled his eyes in disbelief, “Are you friggin' serious?! C'mon, the Death Star! No way we're going in--”
And I ran, I ran so far away...
And ran so far away they did. Quill was cut off, his ship spun out of control, twirling in circles, a stream of fire and smoke trailing their movements, “Hold on!”
I just ran, I ran all night and day...
An Imperial pilot grinned, targeting systems locking onto The Milano...
I couldn't get away.
… Only to explode in a brilliant flash, the TIE fighter's hull sprayed across the vast emptiness of space.
The three remaining Imperial pilots glanced back, their NAV systems picking up massive heat signatures radiating in huge swaths of red: A Rebel Alliance Assault Force arrived.
PROLOGUE:
“In a Multiverse far, far away...”
“Are the prisoners secure?”
Ensign Officer Joss Hanson, a young, all-too-inexperienced Imperial officer peeked through a little hatch containing Vader's “VIP Prisoners”-- or you. He smirked, what was so damned important about some two-bit rebels? Shrugging, he flicked a flashlight within your cell: It was a tight fit, especially with over 40+ individuals housed in a 60x80 foot prison block. It was dark, dingy, and worst of all, smelled of dirt and sweat.
You had no weapons. No powers. No hope.
… Nullified or taken away by the Galactic Empire...
You groaned uncomfortably in your bunk bed, an audible 'creeek' met your ears, your weight snapping a few hinges within it's metal frame. BAM! Gohan's upper bunk tore in two, landing above a very poor, very squished Khan.Whatever. You've been here for approximately a week, captured by a squadron of elite Stormtroopers down at Tattoine-- and now, you were stuck with abuncha strangers, most of whom you've met within confinement.
The Ensign Officer bore his flashlight at Aladeen's Middle Eastern features, cocking a brow, a sinister grin crept across his features, “Well- well- well, what do we have here? Ha ha! We've got royalty, boys! How about--”
BOOOOOOM!
An explosion rang into the distance...
The Officer was cut off-- a metal shard collapsed from Cell Block's iron-plated grating, a jagged edge puncturing his eyeball, shredding his tongue from the force of the blow, sending bits of teeth into the roof of his palate. He gurgled, blood oozing from his ruined lips, falling backward... pitifully moaning as he choked to death.
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
Another explosion.
Looking outside, you noticed Officer Hanson voiding his bladder through his gray slacks--his compatriots, failing to care, rushed into action, their white-heeled boots stepped over his corpse like an obstacle course. Damn, this was chaos. The Cells were catching fire, angry flames lit into an inferno, licking the reinforced iron mainframe of your prison blast door.Dammit, you thought, any closer and we're done for!
A sophisticated British-esque voice boomed in the intercom:
“We are under attack! Man your battle stations! This is not a drill! I repeat, this is not a drill!”
You saw emergency lights scream in protest, a red hue encircling the narrow corridors of Cell Block B, where you were held. Stormtroopers lined in by the droves, screaming commands in a frenzy, flicking the safety off their blaster rifles. Ah- you heard it now: The distant echo of ion cannons discharging met your ears- perhaps it was the Rebel Alliance you heard so much about? Yes! If it was, you were FREE of this hellhole!
Bzzt!
An intercom buzzed on the wall near the steel door, painted green, the design sleek and futuristic: “Hello? Hello? Do you hear me?” The voice was feminine, sporting a British accent, but the signal was weak, as if someone or something was attempting to block it out.
It's time to escape.
Between now and 10 PM MST tomorrow night, Tuesday, is the prologue period. Feel free to post your character prologue. If you complete your prologue or opt not to post one, feel free to engage in character interaction!
AND THEN...
ROUND ONE:
“The Citadel”
You nearly fell asleep.
The soft hum of the Republic Star Cruiser soaring past eons of stars, their celestial forms winking out in trails of vibrant white, was tranquil. Far better than the Death Star-- which honestly, resembled more of a busy work zone than an ultra-freakish-sphere-of-death and all that jazz. It kept your mind at rest.
“ETA 5 minutes until we reach the Citadel.”
EDI, stoic as ever, was busy supervising multiple Alliance programs in the Command Deck. She was smart, even for an AI, her slender humanoid fingers configured maps, encrypted codes, and passwords leading toward The Citadel. The interior of the Command Deck was dark, lit only by the banks of servers and holograms running essential Flagship controls. Key personnel were scattered abroad, interconnected between the Alliance Fleet under the watchful eye of General Jack O'Neill.
“Thank you, EDI.” The General said, standing at attention.
Juno Eclipse smiled, finally, she thought, peace at last. Well,not so much.
She lifted a finger, about to speak, “General O'Neill, may I--” Boom. Juno's body spontaneously combusted into so much meat confetti. Her stomach blew out, spraying visceral gore onto a stray onlooker, his eyes wide in fright. Her head flew into the air, half-blown apart, wet chunks of flesh flopped aimlessly, shortly before plopping in a sickish splatter of brain, sinew, and bone into Officer Bradford's arms- her eyes were milky white, rolled into the back of her head.
The once proud, valued member of the intergalactic community was rendered into liquified paste within the span of a second.
… But who would do such a thing? Who could wield such power?! Only now you realize, deep in your subconscious, there's a traitor amongst you. An Imperial spy perhaps? Who knows.
30 MINUTES LATER...
What the hell just happened?
An envoy of Rebel soldiers, yes the one you're familiar with, fitted in white-and-red jumpsuits and blaster rifles, searched the Alliance Flagship head-to-toe, checking the recently deceased Juno Eclipse. Damn, it appears she died by a micro-bomb- planted within her pocket- the spy was a crafty little bastard. No less, you were free to go.
… To your new home:
The Citadel.
An artificial sun, coupled with a blue, blue sky graced your skin. The air was soft, breezy, temperature perfectly set in the mid-70s. Various alien races walked to and fro, idly chatting about politics, their social life, the fate of the galaxy-- ah, it was wonderful, wasn't it? You walked upon polished marble flooring, stepping out of the Alliance Flagship only to be met by this:
“Evening, or should I say, good afternoon. My name is Cortana, an advanced USNC AI system scheduled to guide you throughout The Citadel. However, I must note, Commander Skywalker has requested a meeting with you at 1500 sharp. Please comply.” She smiled gracefully, “Now let's examine some key areas of interest.”
- “First, we have The Master's Chest: Interested in force magic and ancient runes? This is the place for you! Ran by an old Jedi Knight, The Master's Chest is a delight for any and all individuals interested in the mysterious and unknown. I warn you though: Most of the relics haven't been touched yet by mortal hands, so if you're adventurous enough, work with the Jedi Knight and you can experiment!”
- “Our governmental branch in The Presidium: Politics hurts our galaxy, and inarguably, hurts our war against the Galactic Empire. Think you can convince a few old politicians to dispatch some manpower for the Rebel Alliance? Or perhaps, you could work your way to the top- and pick up a few jobs in exchange for manpower.”
- “I'm certain you'd benefit from our Requisitions & Armory. Interested in picking up power armor or a blaster rifle or two? Get one today! Due to your unique status in The Citadel, all purchases are covered by the Rebel Alliance!”
- “Careful about this one, but rumor has it, the Asari and the Furons have been causing trouble in the Flux Nightclub. It's very popular. However, I detect a 86.2% chance a race war will occur if strife between the Furons and Asari does not cease. I'd steer clear if I were you.”
Cortana smiles, vanishing into thin air...
Welcome to The Citadel.
You can now start posting in-game! This is an "RPG Town" type map, so explore, stock up, have fun! During the mid-round update, you will vote for your Captain and be given a ship! So have a Sci-Fi character in mind! Oh, and the first NPC kill has been posted, vote who you think the traitor is! This round will end @ Wednesday or Thursday.
Empire's Most Wanted:
@R4 C9 as HK-50 (Star Wars)
@Delayinder as Sev or Mael Radec (Killzone)
@JustanotherRPer as The Master (Doctor Who)
@Dear Inspector as Khan (Star Trek)
@Darkens as Gohan (DMZ)
@Gilmoregirl12 as Elena Michaels (Bitten)
@Apollogy8 as Loki (The Avengers)
@oOKanranOo as Sebastian Michaelis (Kuroshitsuj)
@beautifulheart3x as Sansa Stark (Game of Thrones)
@SirDerpingtonIV as The Predator (self-titles series)
@pochiko as Jenna (Spectrobes)
@Akibahara as Unknown Character (???)
Eliminated:Juno Eclipse- BLOWN UP! - INNOCENT.
War Assets:
0+
Remember, this is a rewind. All the content after Round One was lost, so we're going back to the start of Round 1. All the master chest runes effects are now gone. For tonight, I will be acting as your temporary GM, but I believe that tomorrow Akibahara will come to his position. Have fun, and a safe journey!
RULES
1.) A fair warning for all: You will be VERY BORED if you don't find someone to interact with, and I'm certain of this. I've ran RP events like this for -years-, and the key to success is character interaction. Therefore, you will need to find a partner, if you don't have one, I'll find one for you.
2.) So no one is ignored, I highly suggest you skim over other people's post. You don't necessarily have to read it all, but look for your character's name! Someone may want to talk to yah.
3.) If you're a traitor, all kills are done via PM -and- after the collaboration of your fellow traitors as to who to kill. In no way are you allowed to tell what your role is to anyone, doing so will result in immediate expulsion from the Murder event. Oh, and one final thing, if you're a traitor: Pray you aren't caught, lest you be subject to the mercy of the players.
4.) If you're not aware, if you're sentenced to die by a traitor via PM... it's an insta-death! But don't fret! Once you die, there's an “afterlife” game, whose plot will be told once the first player death occurs, and eventually, you'll find your way back to the players!
5.) I can guarantee you the first day will be absolute CHAOS. Why? People will be writing prologues, trying to find partners, etc. So, like #2, try to find a partner ASAP, keep calm, and try to skim through everyone's post, searching for your name. Eventually, as the Murder game continues on, it'll come at a steady pace... well, maybe not, there are +40 people.
6.) There will be moments where I ask players NOT to post; this is usually before large updates or mid-round updates. Please comply!
7. )Please, -please-, no godmodding.
8.) As much as I'm overjoyed (I really mean it!) with everyone's participation in my Murder event, please try to be active. You don't have to dedicate hours on in to this game, it literally lasts a -month-, so you're in it for the long-run. If you can post once a day, that's perfectly fine... but, of course, the more posts, the merrier!
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
PREVIOUSLY...
Space.
A vast network of stars and lone celestial planets to the common man. To us, nothing lives here. For them, a universe in which the newly-christened Galactic Empire reigns supreme. All races, creeds, and governments pay homage to the Emperor and his Apprentice, Darth Vader- rejection results in death. It results in the genocide of a million, perhaps,billions of civvies inhabiting your home world.
It is unwise to challenge the Empire.
For your planet, your galaxy, the multiverse...
IS NOTHING TO THE EMPI-
((A jive '80s guitar solo hums in the distance...))
Hm?
“WOOOOO HOOOOOOOO!”
A young 35 year old Caucasian male whooped excitedly from his junker's cockpit, idly dodging a barrage of TIE fighter laser cannons harrowing his ship. A loud, obnoxious tune—at least, according to the Imperial pilots—rang from the Empire's comm-links, transmitting from, as they discovered moments ago, this “Star Lord's” 1980s FM Radio.
I walked along the avenue...
A little raccoon man... thing... laughed like a lunatic as he swung his manned turret in a 45 degree angle, firing off a long burst, a super-heated blast detonating one the TIE Fighters in an explosion of bright orange and yellow...
“That's right baby! Right in the freakin' kisser!”
I never thought I'd meet a girl like you...
The remaining four TIE fighters flew into a diamond-shaped formation, their squad leader dead, killed by some damn anthropomorphic raccoon.
Meet a girl like you.
An Imperial pilot glared at the junker's rear, an inscription 'The Milano' was shoddily sprawled across in black ink. The junker, or 'The Milano', was sleek and futuristic-looking, but old, even by Rebel Alliance standards, beaten up, and it's blue-yellow-and grey frame riddled with dust.
With auburn hair and tawny eyes...
Banking to the right, a TIE fighter swirled elegantly around, adjacent to The Milano, training it's twin-linked ion cannons menacingly toward a nearby engine...
The kind of eyes that hypnotize me through...
BOOM!
A powerful shot plowed straight into The Milano's right engine, stalling it in a burst of sparks and debris. Large chunks of metal, wire, and gas pumped out lifelessly into space...
“Quill, we're going down!” Screamed a fair, green-skinned female.
Hypnotize me through.
The young male, named Quill, looked out into the depths of space: A massive, moon-sized space station met them. He rolled his eyes in disbelief, “Are you friggin' serious?! C'mon, the Death Star! No way we're going in--”
And I ran, I ran so far away...
And ran so far away they did. Quill was cut off, his ship spun out of control, twirling in circles, a stream of fire and smoke trailing their movements, “Hold on!”
I just ran, I ran all night and day...
An Imperial pilot grinned, targeting systems locking onto The Milano...
I couldn't get away.
… Only to explode in a brilliant flash, the TIE fighter's hull sprayed across the vast emptiness of space.
The three remaining Imperial pilots glanced back, their NAV systems picking up massive heat signatures radiating in huge swaths of red: A Rebel Alliance Assault Force arrived.
PROLOGUE:
“In a Multiverse far, far away...”
“Are the prisoners secure?”
Ensign Officer Joss Hanson, a young, all-too-inexperienced Imperial officer peeked through a little hatch containing Vader's “VIP Prisoners”-- or you. He smirked, what was so damned important about some two-bit rebels? Shrugging, he flicked a flashlight within your cell: It was a tight fit, especially with over 40+ individuals housed in a 60x80 foot prison block. It was dark, dingy, and worst of all, smelled of dirt and sweat.
You had no weapons. No powers. No hope.
… Nullified or taken away by the Galactic Empire...
You groaned uncomfortably in your bunk bed, an audible 'creeek' met your ears, your weight snapping a few hinges within it's metal frame. BAM! Gohan's upper bunk tore in two, landing above a very poor, very squished Khan.Whatever. You've been here for approximately a week, captured by a squadron of elite Stormtroopers down at Tattoine-- and now, you were stuck with abuncha strangers, most of whom you've met within confinement.
The Ensign Officer bore his flashlight at Aladeen's Middle Eastern features, cocking a brow, a sinister grin crept across his features, “Well- well- well, what do we have here? Ha ha! We've got royalty, boys! How about--”
BOOOOOOM!
An explosion rang into the distance...
The Officer was cut off-- a metal shard collapsed from Cell Block's iron-plated grating, a jagged edge puncturing his eyeball, shredding his tongue from the force of the blow, sending bits of teeth into the roof of his palate. He gurgled, blood oozing from his ruined lips, falling backward... pitifully moaning as he choked to death.
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
Another explosion.
Looking outside, you noticed Officer Hanson voiding his bladder through his gray slacks--his compatriots, failing to care, rushed into action, their white-heeled boots stepped over his corpse like an obstacle course. Damn, this was chaos. The Cells were catching fire, angry flames lit into an inferno, licking the reinforced iron mainframe of your prison blast door.Dammit, you thought, any closer and we're done for!
A sophisticated British-esque voice boomed in the intercom:
“We are under attack! Man your battle stations! This is not a drill! I repeat, this is not a drill!”
You saw emergency lights scream in protest, a red hue encircling the narrow corridors of Cell Block B, where you were held. Stormtroopers lined in by the droves, screaming commands in a frenzy, flicking the safety off their blaster rifles. Ah- you heard it now: The distant echo of ion cannons discharging met your ears- perhaps it was the Rebel Alliance you heard so much about? Yes! If it was, you were FREE of this hellhole!
Bzzt!
An intercom buzzed on the wall near the steel door, painted green, the design sleek and futuristic: “Hello? Hello? Do you hear me?” The voice was feminine, sporting a British accent, but the signal was weak, as if someone or something was attempting to block it out.
It's time to escape.
Between now and 10 PM MST tomorrow night, Tuesday, is the prologue period. Feel free to post your character prologue. If you complete your prologue or opt not to post one, feel free to engage in character interaction!
AND THEN...
ROUND ONE:
“The Citadel”
You nearly fell asleep.
The soft hum of the Republic Star Cruiser soaring past eons of stars, their celestial forms winking out in trails of vibrant white, was tranquil. Far better than the Death Star-- which honestly, resembled more of a busy work zone than an ultra-freakish-sphere-of-death and all that jazz. It kept your mind at rest.
“ETA 5 minutes until we reach the Citadel.”
EDI, stoic as ever, was busy supervising multiple Alliance programs in the Command Deck. She was smart, even for an AI, her slender humanoid fingers configured maps, encrypted codes, and passwords leading toward The Citadel. The interior of the Command Deck was dark, lit only by the banks of servers and holograms running essential Flagship controls. Key personnel were scattered abroad, interconnected between the Alliance Fleet under the watchful eye of General Jack O'Neill.
“Thank you, EDI.” The General said, standing at attention.
Juno Eclipse smiled, finally, she thought, peace at last. Well,not so much.
She lifted a finger, about to speak, “General O'Neill, may I--” Boom. Juno's body spontaneously combusted into so much meat confetti. Her stomach blew out, spraying visceral gore onto a stray onlooker, his eyes wide in fright. Her head flew into the air, half-blown apart, wet chunks of flesh flopped aimlessly, shortly before plopping in a sickish splatter of brain, sinew, and bone into Officer Bradford's arms- her eyes were milky white, rolled into the back of her head.
The once proud, valued member of the intergalactic community was rendered into liquified paste within the span of a second.
… But who would do such a thing? Who could wield such power?! Only now you realize, deep in your subconscious, there's a traitor amongst you. An Imperial spy perhaps? Who knows.
30 MINUTES LATER...
What the hell just happened?
An envoy of Rebel soldiers, yes the one you're familiar with, fitted in white-and-red jumpsuits and blaster rifles, searched the Alliance Flagship head-to-toe, checking the recently deceased Juno Eclipse. Damn, it appears she died by a micro-bomb- planted within her pocket- the spy was a crafty little bastard. No less, you were free to go.
… To your new home:
The Citadel.
An artificial sun, coupled with a blue, blue sky graced your skin. The air was soft, breezy, temperature perfectly set in the mid-70s. Various alien races walked to and fro, idly chatting about politics, their social life, the fate of the galaxy-- ah, it was wonderful, wasn't it? You walked upon polished marble flooring, stepping out of the Alliance Flagship only to be met by this:
“Evening, or should I say, good afternoon. My name is Cortana, an advanced USNC AI system scheduled to guide you throughout The Citadel. However, I must note, Commander Skywalker has requested a meeting with you at 1500 sharp. Please comply.” She smiled gracefully, “Now let's examine some key areas of interest.”
- “First, we have The Master's Chest: Interested in force magic and ancient runes? This is the place for you! Ran by an old Jedi Knight, The Master's Chest is a delight for any and all individuals interested in the mysterious and unknown. I warn you though: Most of the relics haven't been touched yet by mortal hands, so if you're adventurous enough, work with the Jedi Knight and you can experiment!”
- “Our governmental branch in The Presidium: Politics hurts our galaxy, and inarguably, hurts our war against the Galactic Empire. Think you can convince a few old politicians to dispatch some manpower for the Rebel Alliance? Or perhaps, you could work your way to the top- and pick up a few jobs in exchange for manpower.”
- “I'm certain you'd benefit from our Requisitions & Armory. Interested in picking up power armor or a blaster rifle or two? Get one today! Due to your unique status in The Citadel, all purchases are covered by the Rebel Alliance!”
- “Careful about this one, but rumor has it, the Asari and the Furons have been causing trouble in the Flux Nightclub. It's very popular. However, I detect a 86.2% chance a race war will occur if strife between the Furons and Asari does not cease. I'd steer clear if I were you.”
Cortana smiles, vanishing into thin air...
Welcome to The Citadel.
You can now start posting in-game! This is an "RPG Town" type map, so explore, stock up, have fun! During the mid-round update, you will vote for your Captain and be given a ship! So have a Sci-Fi character in mind! Oh, and the first NPC kill has been posted, vote who you think the traitor is! This round will end @ Wednesday or Thursday.
Empire's Most Wanted:
@R4 C9 as HK-50 (Star Wars)
@Delayinder as Sev or Mael Radec (Killzone)
@JustanotherRPer as The Master (Doctor Who)
@Dear Inspector as Khan (Star Trek)
@Darkens as Gohan (DMZ)
@Gilmoregirl12 as Elena Michaels (Bitten)
@Apollogy8 as Loki (The Avengers)
@oOKanranOo as Sebastian Michaelis (Kuroshitsuj)
@beautifulheart3x as Sansa Stark (Game of Thrones)
@SirDerpingtonIV as The Predator (self-titles series)
@pochiko as Jenna (Spectrobes)
@Akibahara as Unknown Character (???)
Eliminated:Juno Eclipse- BLOWN UP! - INNOCENT.
War Assets:
0+
Remember, this is a rewind. All the content after Round One was lost, so we're going back to the start of Round 1. All the master chest runes effects are now gone. For tonight, I will be acting as your temporary GM, but I believe that tomorrow Akibahara will come to his position. Have fun, and a safe journey!
