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sorainvoked

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  1. "You should probably smile more often. I think it would make you a little less, mm, frightening? I guess is the word I'm looking for." This stopped Cerebri in his tracks. He had always thought of himself as a loner. It was only until recently that he began thinking of expanding his business, and thus decided that outside help would be useful. He'd never have thought he would meet someone who would be able to make his heart beat the way it did. Grunting in reply, Cerebri allowed the comment to play around in his head a little while longer before mentally snapping back into his role. He raised his glass to his lips once more, took a quick swig, and set the mug down. He then reached his hand over and placed his palm over the beautiful elf's own, allowing the sensation of her hand his his wash over his consciousness for a quick minute. "Let's get out of here," he leaned over and whispered, both in a flirty way and a manner of urgency, as he noticed that his boss had not come back from the washing facilities. Holding on to her hand, he guided the wonderful lady out of the bar, giving the barkeep the smallest of nods before exiting the swinging doors of the alcohol storage building. Opening the door to the carriage, Cerebri helped the lady into the inner chamber, then climbed into the driver's seat. Pulling around the back of the bar, Cerebri spotted the bodies of the two unconscious lieutenants slumped over in two wine casks, heads barely peeking out of the top. Placing the lid on, he hoisted each barrel into the carriagae interior, waited for his boss to board, then proceeded to leave for the base of operations. There was a dungeon within the building, and it was time to put it to good use.
  2. Seeing the glob attacking the people in the cavern gave Cerebri no cause for hesitation any longer, and he drew his sword and musket. Slashing his way through the crowd, occasionally having to dodge the stray swing of the blob's attacks, Cerebri descended into a battle trance; flash of blade and gun lit up the cave at moments of pure fury, rending heads and spraying ichor all over. This brought a small smile to his lips; it had been a while since he was allowed to let loose this way. The last time he allowed himself to was when he was in the War, fighting the Enemy that had threatened to overwhelm his homeland. It was there that the name 'Cerebri' was conferred on him. The way he cut through his foes; it looked like the incarnation of the three headed dog from Hell. Unfortunately, despite his efforts, the War was lost, and his homeland was forever blighted. Running out of bullets in his multishot musket, Cerebri tossed the gun into the air, catching it by its still smouldering barrel, and swung the butt at the closest head. The swing impacted with such force that the head burst like an exploding fruit, spraying bits of skull and brains onto the blob. Not waiting around to see if the thing cared that Cerebri had dirtied it, he fought his way through the crowd, but soon found himself caught in no man's land. Looking around to try to spot the blob, he realised that there were a lot of bodies between him and his... partner of sorts. Fighting his way back would only tire him further, as fatigue began to set in after the prolonged fighting. Realising that he had to do something to get out of the mess, he quickly spotted a chain leading up to an airship that was coming toward him, and snagged on to it as soon as it came within grasp. Hauling himself up the chain bit by bit, he finally came to the deck, tired and dripping in decayed insides. "So what do I do now?" he wondered out loud as he slowly caught his breath.
  3. Breaking the lock into the police station wasn't hard; a strong and swift boot into the handle shattered it, causing the door to swing open with a bang. Quickly she leveled her rifle toward the room, expecting gunfire to come her way. After waiting for a while, and satisfied that no one had detected her, Boomstick stowed her rifle and pulled out her pistol. It was easier clearing room by room with a pistol compared to an assault rifle; one being small and maneuverable, while the other being larger and more clunky. The police station showed signs of abandonment. Stacks of paper and files were strewn all over the desks and floors, which indicated a hasty deployment to some other facility or situation. There were signs of a struggle in the rooms as well; scorch marks were clearly visible along the walls and floors, and empty bullet casings were scattered all through the station. The Cleaners had obviously come around for a hostile visit and left souvenirs. Boomstick took special care not to step on any of them; leaving signs of her being around was a big no. She had to be a ghost here. No one was supposed to know where she was, and she had taken every care to make sure that was the case. This was all part of her survival plan; no predator ever revealed their location until they were ready to kill. She had her targets. She knew whom she had to kill to reach the top. However, until she was ready, she had to remain hidden from the outside world. Looking around for an open terminal, she soon found one in the Police Superintendent's office. The corpse of the Police Superintendent was still there, sitting limply in his cushy chair, clutching on to his service revolver. There was a bullet sized hole in his temple, and from first glance it was pretty obvious what had happened. Moving the chair a little to the side, Boomstick pulled out a small USB-C wire and attached it to the terminal. Typing in a few commands, she soon found what she was looking for. The armoury, located in the basement of the Police Station. was holding on to some SHD tech. Reaching out to disconnect the cable from the terminal, Boomstick suddenly had an idea. Typing a few more commands, she found her way into the SHD network, and pulled up her file. She double clicked. "Heh, Sergeant Morris," she uttered, smiling to herself. Scanning through her file, she felt a small pang of nostalgia as she remembered everything that had happened. Soon she came to the end of the file, where it was written: [Armed and Extremely Dangerous. Kill on Sight]. "So, that's what they have planned for me huh. Sons of bitches." Making some alterations to the file, she deleted her name, her known aliases and everything that could identify her. Looking at that final line, she thought for a while, before deciding to leave it there. A pop-up suddenly appearaed, prompting Boomstick if she wanted to save those changes or not. Clicking on save, the terminal suddenly asked for an authorized card scan. Looking around, she spotted that the Superintendent still had his RFID card on him. Picking it out, she scanned the card on the card scanner. 'Bzzt', it emitted. A voice chimed, one that she was very familiar with. "Unauthorized access detected. Owner of card is deceased. Initiating distress protocol." "Damn you ISAC." Quickly picking up her pistol, Boomstick rushed toward the nearest stairwell with access to the basement. She did not have much time before a Division agent was sent her way, and that was something she did not have the stomach or time for.
  4. Boomstick jogged past her third block, looking quickly before crossing to avoid interactions with anyone else. She searched through some bags for supplies, finding the occasional useful item like camera lenses and stuffed toys. Camera lenses could be used to repair any optics on her weapons, while the stuffed toys were dissected for their cotton within; to help pad out her winter gear when things got a little too cold. She soon heard a dull roar after crossing her fourth block, and with each step she took it steadily grew louder. 'This must be the riots she was talking about,' Boomstick thought to herself. Pulling out her ACR-E assault rifle, she began to slow her pace, eventually inching forward so as to avoid confrontation with both the rioters and the JTF deployed there to control the situation. Pushing the crown on her watch once again, her contact lenses flared to life as a device in her bagpack let out a quick pulse. '39 civilians, 8 JTF personnel,' she read. The odds were good. The JTF were not allowed to exercise deadly force on civilians unless given permission by the President, so they were definitely going to be preoccupied by the violence on their hands. However she had to work quickly, as 8 JTF personnel were definitely not enough to keep the rioters at bay. Quickly taking note of the positions of all 47 people, Boomstick picked her spot, laid down, and began to leopard crawl across the street, keeping as close to the ground as possible so as to avoid detection. Reaching the other side, she checked around once more to make sure no one had spotted her. Once she was satisfied, she got up, dusting off the old snow that had stuck to her clothes, before heading to the side entrance of the Police station. "Drats, locked," she cursed under her breath. She had no access to ISAC too, which meant she had to find a more.. primitive method of crossing. Looking up, she noticed that the wall was not too high, but was topped with razor wire to deter intruders. Not like it really mattered at this time anyway. Glancing around, Boomstick noticed several wooden crates scattered along the wall of the neighbouring building. Grabbing a few, she placed them along the wall, stacking them until they formed a makeshift staircase to the top of the wall. Placing several opened luggage bags over the razor wire so as to stop it from slicing her open, Boomstick vaulted over the wire and landed with a thud on the other side. Quickly pulling up her rifle, she listened for any sign of her presence being noticed. Satisfied that she was still undetected, Boomstick proceeded to find an open door, before heading into the station.
  5. Seeing the blob move forward, Cerebri decided to hang back for a bit. Climbing a little higher, he surveyed the lay of the land a little, looking for any possible advantageous geography that he and the blob could exploit. Seeing that there were none that he could use at this point in time, he decided to commit what he could to memory; one never know when knowledge like this would be useful. Eventually catching up to the creature who was paying him, the blob suddenly stopped. Feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand, his hand automatically hovered down to his weapons, ready to draw. His palm began to sweat in anticipation of a fight, and those shrieks and groans did nothing to ease his disease. The tremor he felt in the soles of his feet began to quaver even more, and he immediately placed his head on the ground, ears pressed hard into the stone floors. A cacophony of thumps and scrapes danced in his eardrums, feeding information to him as he analyzed the sounds. "We have at least fifty strong heading in our direction, some seem to be carrying heavy items," he relayed to the blob. Pulling out his pistol, he muttered under his breath, "and I am in no mood to be trifled with," before firing a shot toward the sound's general direction. A sudden screech filled the cavern before a shout became audible. "Don't shoot! We come in peace!"
  6. Hey @Hani, how's your post coming along?
  7. Dyloceus needed an out from the situation facing him. Being his father's general? That was definitely not something he wanted to do. He wanted to continue roaming the world, trying out new ales and alcoholic spirits, all in the hope that one of them would actually be strong enough to give him even the slightest buzz. Being a general of Hell, though, would be a huge spanner to his works, as one of the requirements of being a general of Hell would require him to permanently stay in Hell. Dyloceus sorely did not want that to happen. "Think you arse, think," he berated himself as he slowly felt like he was being pulled into a cycle he could not escape from. The tense atmosphere was starting to build up. Wheels began to churn, fitting possibilities into places where none would make sense. His mental factory started working overtime, fitting scenario into scenario, until.. Eureka. "So how much of your army do I command," Dyloceus questioned. "I would like them all, but we both know that won't do." "How much do you think you require," replied his father, back to his usual sickly sweet voice, and seated comfortably back on his throne. "At least 45 percent." Dyloceus's father snorted, then laughed a little. "No. 25 percent is more than adequate." He waved his hand dismissively. "Oh come on pops. You can't expect me to be a General in your army and not command some good number of boys, do you? 40 percent," Dyloceus bargained. "No. 30 percent. And I'm being generous already, which is so unlike me as a Lord of Hell." "Well then, my final offer. 35 percent, and they stay wholly loyal to me and me only. They answer to no one else." A small glint sparkled in Dyloceus's eyes. He knew he waws close. Thinking for a minute, his father toyed with the idea. Dylocues knew the math too. Even with the army at his disposal, he could not really do anything. 35 percent of his father's forces was not even enough to overthrow a minor lord of Hell, but with the prize of all those souls to possible join his strength at stake, Dyloceus's father needed to contemplate the cost/reward ratio. Finally, his father slowly nodded his head. Standing up, he walked over to a small table and took from its drawer, a small fire medallion. Whispering something only he could hear to it, the medallion flared a hot shade of red for a short moment before reverting to its old form. Tossing it to Dyloceus, who caught it, the medallion shone in the fires of Hell. "That's your proof of command. Lose it, and you lose your army to the one who picks it up. Understand?" "Aye, got it you old windbag," retorted the cambion. Stuffing the medallion deep into his pocket, he unfurled his wings once again and flew off, keen on fulfilling the rest of his mission.
  8. "Nothing like a fresh kill to get your heart beating," cooed Boomstick. Picking up the ammo off the fresh corpse of the JTF soldier she had just killed, she took a quick mental stock of how much she had. The amount she had scavenged was probably enough to last her the next few days. Picking up the radio receiver, she realised that there were a few smoking bullet holes bored into the plastic, rendering the item completely useless. Cursing herself a little, she threw it aside, and decided to get it from the next best thing. Walking slowly toward the source of groaning and moaning that had been echoing through the alleyway where she had ambushed the group, she tenderly picked up the one surviving member's head. "Shhh," she sounded, slowly stroking the hair of the lady whose legs had been blown off by one of her grenades. "It'll all be over soon, just tell me something. I seemed to overhear that some people are heading for some police station somewhere. Where is the police station they are heading to, and what's in there?" Boomstick purposely spoke softly and reassuringly, in a bid to lull the JTF soldier into a false sense of calm and give up the information. This, however, did not work. "Screw you bitch, I'll kill you," the JTF soldier screamed. Quickly planting her piston into the lady's open mouth, Boomstick cocked the hammer back. Eyes widening in terror, the JTF soldier's eyes began to tear, quickly filling to the brim and rolling down her cheek. "Now, I am normally a patient girl, but this seems like it's time sensitive, so I'll reiterate. Tell me now what I need to know, or I'll leave you to bleed out. Die slowly. Heck, I'll make it even more agonizing. I hear a gut shot is about the slowest way to die without proper treatment." Boomstick pulled her assault rifle out and placed it at her abdomen, taking off the safety, thus making her intentions crystal clear. "So, would you like to share that information with me? Tell me and I might, just might, let you live." Looking deep into her eyes, Boomstick knew that she had broken the JTF soldier. Slowly removing the gun from her mouth, Boomstick allowed her some time to recover before the JTF soldier started spilling everything, from the riot to the contents of the police station. 'Medicine, water and food huh,' she thought to herself. Those were the usual items that were found everywhere. "There's apparently some special tech in there too, some SHD tech," the JTF soldier spluttered. This piqued Boomstick's interest. "SHD tech? Like?" "I don't know, it was on a need-to-know basis!" the JTF soldier whimpered. "I merely heard rumors!" Boomstick's mind raced. SHD tech. That was something important. SHD tech was the most cutting edge technology of warfare the United States currently had, and to be able to get her hands on them was something that could be game changing. Standing up, she made the decision to get it, by any means necessary. As she started to walk away, the JTF soldier started to break down again, clearly happy that she was going to be left alone. Spinning around, Boomstick fired off one shot, striking the soldier in her head. The body slumped almost immediately, and slowly blood began dripping from the bullet hole that now decorated the soldier's skull. Happy with her work, she holstered her weapon, before jogging at a steady pace over to the coordinates she was given by the soldier.
  9. apologies, just saw the message yesterday. wasn't aware it was my turn! augh. my bad. EDIT: gimme an hour, i'll knock something out @Vetanoob EDIT 2: posted! sorry for taking so long!
  10. Apparently the sleep had taken much more of a toll on Aryssin. She had only realised that no one had responded to her shouts because they were all under attack by flying monstrosities; winged girls she recognised from the bestiary of Lefel as "Harpies", creatures that were weak in nature, but devious as well. It certainly looked like the harpies were causing some sort of annoyance to the people trying to cross the bridge, so Aryssin decided to unsheathe her bow and help shoot. This turned out to be a folly as she soon realised she had forgotten to restock her arrows before she fell asleep, and that left her with only her black arrows that allowed her to infuse magic into them. Scolding herself silently for her tardiness, Aryssin nevertheless moved on, and soon reached the start of the bridge. From a quick glance it seemed that the heroes upon the bridge were handling the attack pretty well, so Aryssin decided to slowly move forward to check if anyone had been injured. Calling out to the rest of the group, she cast quick glances to each of the others to check for injuries. Apparently the others had stayed back and out of range of the harpy attacks, and were therefore all right. Those upon the bridge were in more precarious positions, and a healer was always welcome. Stepping tentatively onto the bridge, she moved forward, making sure not to look down. Steeling her nerves, she uttered a quick spell, and cast it into her bracers, which absorbed the light with much greed. Soon the emblems upon them glowed a faint white, signifying that they were ready. Gripping hold of the ropes, she inched slowly forward.
  11. I think we can spruce it up a little. I don't mind her dying, but it has to be an interesting death. not just going down in a blaze of glory kinda death. or ignominy. hahaha. nope. I purposely stayed away from Aaron Keener because I wanted her reason to become a rogue to be wholly different.
  12. So since I am a baddie in this thread, if anyone would like to have a fight with me, please PM me. I would prefer if we use a dice roll to decide the winner and loser of the battle, but I am definitely open to other forms of deciding factors. NOTE: this is NOT T1. I don't want it to be T1 either. HAHA
  13. Boomstick was in her perfect world. She had long held on to the world view that the strong ate the weak, and after the Green Flu broke out, it proved her point to the T. It could not have been any more perfect; the living were forced to either huddle together in large groups for protection like prey, or wandered alone through the city like apex predators. Boomstick was deep in the latter category, and she had made sure that she was ready for the day something like this would happen; it was only a matter of time. The world was getting too bloated with living people. Natural resources were running scarce, and people were being forced to share what was left. Boomstick did not wish to share. She had no desire to share. She went through her inventory once more. Eight seeker mines, enough battery in her tactical pulse scan to last a few more days, and thirteen grenades. Boomstick had been stocking up on those; they were endlessly useful at causing chaos, all while making sure the enemy would look every which way but her way. She picked up her assault rifle and inspected it for dirt; an elegant ACR-E with custom bolt carriers that allowed for higher rates of fire, and a slightly longer barrel for sniping if required. Topping it was a 3.5x ACOG scope, eternally useful for landing the occasional headshot. Seeing a small spot where the gun oil had dried, she took out a small brush, dipped it in the oil, and methodically applied it to the barrel. Rust had no business on the rifle, and she knew full well what could happen if rust was allowed to creep in. Right next to her was her Benelli M4 Super 90 pump action shotgun, a weapon she became intimately familiar with during her time busting down doors in the army. She had grown rather fond of it, admiring its weight, accuracy and, perhaps even more, its sheer firepower. Nothing beat a shotgun in close quarters gun combat. Each shot fired in a short range was bound to hit something, making the follow up shot that much easier to land. Lastly she checked the number of clips she had left of her H&K P30L. The hefty pistol felt good in her hand, and the kick was, while noticeable, still very much controllable. Realising that she was running low on 9mm bullets, she packed up her items, put on her mask, and headed out. Exiting of the room she holed up in for the night, Boomstick looked around. There was little activity around her immediate area; other than a few scavengers out searching for food and water, there was no movement. Looking at her wristwatch, she turned the clock face 45 degrees to the left and pressed the crown. This caused the pulse to activate, sending information to her Heads Up Display in her contact lenses. Spinning around she noticed.. Movement. Two blocks. "JTF. Huh." It was time to stalk her prey.
  14. A small pang of jealousy rose when the beautiful elf leaned over to the lieutenant and whispered in his ear. He caught himself, and slowly surpressed the feeling. This was not the time to let feelings dictate the following proceedings, and time was a more important factor than ever. Quickly swiping the phials from Jack, he walked over and obscured the second lieutenant's view of the first, and while the first was being enthralled by the beauty of the elf, he slipped the liquid into the first mug. One down, one more to go. He then quickly passed the second vial over to the elf to settle the second mug of ale. Turning around, he picked up the tainted mug and walked over to the second lieutenant. Extending his arm, he offered the man a shake, apologising for the 'blunder' he had caused. Eyeing it for a short while, the lieutenant finally raised his own and took Cerebri's hand and shook it once. Placing the replacement mug on his table, Cerebri tipped his hat to the second lieutenant once again, and then beckoned for his 'beloved' to return to him. While waiting for her, he sat down to his own mug, and readied it to raise a toast to the tavern in celebration of a happy event: his apparent engagement. A small smile crept into the corner of his mouth as he said those words, but quickly again he caught himself and descended back into his brooding nature.
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