Legacy: Chapter One (Starting Soon! Full!)

With a suggested standard of two paragraphs or more and dedicated lore threads, this is for the more verbose roleplayer. (10+ sentences per post, on average.)
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Poetic Ghost
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Re: Legacy: Chapter One (Starting Soon! Full!)

Post by Poetic Ghost » Thu Dec 12, 2019 5:02 am

Yes, for people who’ve made characters and are in the RP already
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Re: Legacy: Chapter One (Starting Soon! Full!)

Post by UmbraSight » Sat Dec 21, 2019 2:56 am

How full is this fullness we are talking here
//… under her weight the floorboards gave, and she fell into the dark...// Fall of the Aelir Isles, Vol. III

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Re: Legacy: Chapter One (Starting Soon! Full!)

Post by Poetic Ghost » Sat Dec 21, 2019 6:43 am

Not so full that we couldn’t fit you in :)
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Re: Legacy: Chapter One (Starting Soon! Full!)

Post by UmbraSight » Tue Dec 24, 2019 1:21 am

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Full Name:
Kitana “Kit” Xylia Zahara

Age:
28

Gender:
Female

Race:
Human

Homeworld:
Cascading Vale
A Free World that exists outside the bleeding edge of Republian space, Vale has remained fiercely independent in a galaxy seeking its submission. The how is simple enough, the pride of Vale is the United Fleet. The mission statement of Vale is equally straightforward, if you wish to conquer the system, a price must be paid in blood and steel. Not many have been willing to test the colony’s resolve in this matter.

But, for those willing to come peacefully, Vale is always open to all walks of life, after all, the system’s colony ship the Groundsheer remains operational to this day as a trading depot and customs port for all to come to the system. And if you are in search of a shipwright, you’ll find few better than those that call the greater Vale colony their home.

Appearance:
Kit stands at a solid 5’ 7” with her boots off, and weighs in around 143 pounds. She is slim, but her musculature is solid. Her body has been moderately modified, bits and pieces of tech replacing flesh damaged in the carrying out of her duties. The modifications themselves are not well concealed by choice, it isn’t too hard to get a good skin graft when all is said and done, but she likes the look of it.

Weapons:
ARC-UZI
Stylized after an Earth originated submachine gun, the ARC-UZI provides its wealder a balance between light weight, accuracy, and rate of fire. Unlike its predecessor the weapon does not fire slugs, but rather super heated plasma bolts. The Uzi is most effective at medium to close ranges.

G-17 Marksman Rifle
A semi-automatic rifle favored among the specialist forces of Valen for its high degree of precision and accuracy and stopping power against most forms of body armor.
Though not her weapon of choice, Kit is well trained with this rifle. She isn’t the best shot, but she is reliable with it.
If she happens to be carrying it.

Mag Launcher
Favored by AMP killer units, what the mag launcher lacks in destructive capabilities, it more than makes up for in its ability to disrupt. The grenades fired by the launcher are highly magnetic and will stick to any metal surface that they come into contact with and on detonation they release an electromagnetic pulse to disrupt any nearby electronics. While it isn’t powerful enough to disable any AMP outright, it is useful to temporarily disable pilot video feeds or portions of the mech.

Valen Tactical Knife
It can act as a can opener, a screwdriver, a taser, a phone stand, a mirror, a compass, a saw, a letter opener, and, if one is in a real pinch, a knife.

Republian Demolitions Kit
A mixed assortment of explosive charges and the various tools needed for them to go boom.

A Lighter
The official crest of the UVCG, Cascading Vale with the Groundsheer orbiting above, is pressed into the side.
One should never underestimate what can be done with a little fire with enough edgenuity.

Affiliation:
United Valen Colonial Guard
The UVCG began as little more than a strained militia group working as the fingers of the fledgling government after the first planet in the system had been settled, and to this day the Guard has maintained much of that spirit. They act as more than just the ground forces in armed conflicts, providing aid to communities in times of natural and industrial disaster, and rapid response units to any Marauder incursions into the territory. Much colonial expansion within the Valen system is done on the public works that the UVCG engineering corps put into place.

Skills:
Girl knows how to start a fire, make things go boom as well, but nothing beats a nice fire, you know?

While not the best shot within the Valen military, Kit is in a league of her own when it comes to demolition work. She knows how to find her way through a hardened wall, how to cut off a street with a few gas canisters and a match, and how to make a building topple with some bricks of plastique. And enemy AMPs? It’s all about the joints, you know.

Personality:
Despite having spent a majority of her adult life between various military branches, Kit is not one for professionalism. She is personable, easy to talk to, but in conversation she never seems to offer up much about herself, though she doesn’t seem to be purposefully hiding elements of her life so much as she simply doesn’t care to talk about it. It is rare for her to stand on formalities and pay the proper respects that are due.

Despite how she looks, Kit isn’t rash or impulsive. She thinks through her moves and is more than willing to draw back if it seems she is overextending herself.

Biography:
Being perfectly honest, the Colonial Special Operations Division is a lot of words for “practitioners of asymmetrical warfare.” In the early days of the colonization of Valen’s words the C-SOD was invaluable at keeping pirates with advanced alien technology at bay. But, for what that’s worth, it’s history.

Nowadays C-SOD is where those with specialities are drawn.

Kit was born in a small agricultural community on Cascading Vale, a quiet close knit community who labored hard to keep the colony with food. Predictably, Kit hated it. A safe life? A predictable life? One spent quite literally waiting for grass to grow?

Kit left the day after her graduation party.

It is somewhat impressive how many branches of the Valen military that Kit managed to get herself booted out of. Her attitude never made her fit to be the model bootjock ready to snap to attention in starched blues at all hours of the night. It was the Guard where she finally found a place she could settle into.

She was twenty three when she was finally able to see combat. A raider group had found their way into an agricultural center much like the one she had grown up in on Cerulean Vale. The fighting had lasted most of a day and it seemed that the raiders were starting to fold when they played their ace, an old Soviet AMP salvaged from some scrap pile. Which didn't keep it from being a lethal piece of scrap. The ambush scattered the units of the Guard, and Kit and a handful of others soon found themselves holed up in an electrical plant.

Looking back at it, it wasn’t the greatest plan.

Kit’s squadmates drew the AMP into the powerplant, and Kit caused a set of reactors to blow. It wasn’t the greatest plan, but it was effective.

It wasn’t long after the battle Kit found herself being shuffled into a more specialized division. Atypical warfare is something she learned well, getting a feel for how a battle can flow, and how a well placed fire or toppled building can change the course of things. It is through this division that Kit received training with her personal AMP.

Her name and file was placed on a list that was sent in response to a request for support from the Republians, after all, every team needs someone who knows how to make walls disappear.

Misc:
Character Theme:
Arsionst’s Lullaby

A.M.P Sheet

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Mech Name:
Firebrand

Mech Specialty:
Defense and area denial.

Heavily armored, what Firebrand lacks in speed it more than makes up for in its defensive capabilities, however the mech’s main strength is its ability to use fire to block lines of approach for enemy AMPs.

Appearance:
Brushfire

Weapons:
HAVK Grenade Launcher
This anti-AMP weapon can fire explosive ordinance with all manner of secondary effects to disrupt and destroy enemy armor.

M-43 Series Plasma Arc
Firebrand’s right hand can fold back into its arm revealing a plasma cutter underneath. The diameter of the flame can be controlled, allowing for anything from precise cuts to use in combat against other AMPs.

Gas Canisters
Firebrand’s two missile pods have been modified to launch canisters filled with a volatile gas. On impact the canisters will disperse their contents.

Strike a match, ignite the scene.

Type-F3a “Inferna”
“What I don’t understand is why you need all these words when a simple ‘flamethrower’ suffices.”

The nozzle for the flamethrower is on the back of the mech’s left hand.

Special Attributes:
Despite its weight class Firebrand is outfitted with thrusters. Kit’s AMP will not be flying anytime soon, however the thrusters allow her to send Firebrand into sudden bursts of speed to evade attacks or close in on enemies.

Due to Firebrand's heavy armor, Kit relies on external cameras to provide her with a live feed of her surroundings.
//… under her weight the floorboards gave, and she fell into the dark...// Fall of the Aelir Isles, Vol. III

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Re: Legacy: Chapter One (Starting Soon! Full!)

Post by BanefulMelody » Tue Dec 24, 2019 5:25 am

Activating POST. Calling self-identification process.

Full Name:

Who am I?

You were named Aurora during initial startup.

Age:

I don't remember when I first... started up?

Your internal clock registers 895 days, 7 hours, 52 minutes, 9 seconds since activation. Your date of manufacturing is listed as January 3rd, 52 F.C.

What does that mean?

It has been approximately 2 years since your activation. It has been approximately 4 years since your manufacturing.

Which of those is my birth?

Activation is more comparable.

Gender:

So I was born? How?

Sexually androgynous. Designated female.

That's not what I - never mind. Why, then?

After trials of the prototype TDI-R1s in mock military situations, participants with designated female TDI-R1 units experienced lower anxiety, faster response times, and a higher recorded trust in their unit's instructions and information.

Race:

TDI-R1?

Tactical Dispatch Intelligence - Revision 1 are a series of humanoid artificial intelligence tools designed for processing, interpreting, and relaying combat data. They are fitted for a variety of practical roles both in and out of combat, including serving as intermediaries for commanding officers, performing reconnaissance and intelligence operations, and operating intelligence systems. Their construction consists of nanopolymers and rubberized plastics, making them lighter and cheaper to repair than previous aluminium and carbon fiber based skeletons.

Android?

Artificial humanoid creation.

So I was... made.

You were constructed in a factory.

Homeworld:

Where?

Alfar. It is a manufacturing hub located in core Republian space owned and operated by the military contractor firm Connectex. They are a common supplier of electronic equipment used in the manufacturing of mainframes, AMP computer systems, and occupational artificial intelligences.

Do I have a father there? A mother?

I do not understand.

...nevermind.

Do you have any other queries before boot is considered complete?

Appearance:

What do I look like?

Pulling footage...

Image

Weapons:

What's that in my hand? Is that a gun? I don't... like guns.

All TDI-R1 units come equipped with scanner pistols. They are primarily used for remote access to terminal relays, transmitting stronger signals than their own internal antennae, and, in necessary cases, discharging nonlethal electromagnetic pulses capable of stunning living beings and temporarily disabling non-shielded electronic devices.

Affiliation:

So... it's for my job, then.

It is for your role as a necessary asset in the Republian military.

Skills:

I'm necessary?

Very much so. TDI-R1 units are skilled communicators, capable of parsing information faster than biologicals, and come programmed with modern decryption/encryption protocols. Their ability to interface with most forms of technology is an invaluable asset. In administrative intelligence situations, multiple biological operatives would be necessary to meet the same level of oversight and output. Advanced artificial personality metrics allow TDI-R1s to make moral judgements as well based on a pre-programmed ethical framework. These values can be adjusted in the administration panel.

Alright... okay. I... I think I remember. I remember who I am.

POST complete.

Is it time to wake up?

Boot has been initiated.

I'm ready.

Boot Time - 13 milliseconds.

Theme Song:

Come Undone - The Delgados

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oAzgIHNNP4s

A.M.P Sheet

Mech Name: GSP-12 "Flea"

Mech Specialty: The Flea is a standardized ground-support tactical unit commonly used for scouting and reconnaissance in the field.

Appearance:

Image

Weapons: None.

Special Attributes: Focused on maneuverability over actual combat, the Flea's small size and powerful driving hydraulics in its limbs give it the ability to leap at sustained speeds of 120 MPH over moderately uneven terrain (reaching 60-80 on difficult terrain) and, using the gimballed compression thrusters in its rear, can achieve speeds nearing 300 MPH for bursts of ten to fifteen minutes, after which the thrusters must be given time to cool. Additionally, using the same thrusters, the Flea is able to launch itself several stories into the air and land safely, or propel itself up severe inclines and cliffsides, the clawed foot design of its stabilizers providing sufficient traction to avoid surface separation.
Last edited by BanefulMelody on Thu Dec 26, 2019 12:35 am, edited 2 times in total.

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Re: Legacy: Chapter One (Starting Soon! Full!)

Post by Poetic Ghost » Tue Dec 24, 2019 7:13 am

Beautiful, just beautiful.

BanefulMelody and Umbra are both accepted! Hopefully this game will start very soon :3
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Re: Legacy: Chapter One (Starting Soon! Full!)

Post by Quirbles » Fri Jan 10, 2020 11:59 pm

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J - 4 - X
"Don't make this harder than it has to be."



The interrogation room was lackluster.

He'd seen better, really-- usually, the Republia transport vessels that held him had decent-enough brigs. For some reason, though, it was always the planetside detainment centers that became the festering breeding grounds for disease and violence-- it was always the spaceships that they took better care of, in the end. Never the earthen buildings. Said a lot about where their priorities and true homeland was, he supposed. Every fuckin' human was the same, in the end.

An exile.

Two officers entered through a partially-rusted door, their insignias and surnames emblazoned across the chest like it was something to be proud of. Lot of power in a name, he'd learned-- especially with humans. They loved 'em. Named their ships, named their pets, named their friends and allies little aliases, and their enemies slurs. Funny how angry they seemed to get when that creative animosity was thrown back on 'em-- J-4-X wasn't a human, far from it, but he could think like one. Act like one. Sometimes, he even passed as one-- before they looked underneath the cloak, that is.

Yeah, that was usually when the guns got pulled out.


"State your name for the purposes of the investigation."

J-4-X regarded the two officers with a cool, coy little stare. Humans were far more expressive than him, and he used that to his advantage-- emotion was a damn good tell, no matter the situation, and he'd been blessed with the simple art of concealment. Nothing moved unless he told it to, unless he wanted it to, and it served him just fine.

"Ain't got one. Got a serial number, though. 'Least, that's what I think it is. J … 4 … X."

He paused, mouth closing as if he were smiling to himself. 'Course, those parts didn't move quite like a fleshborn, so the expression remained passive.

"Your kind loves callin' me Jax, though."

One officer scratched down a few notes.


"On the Terran Scale, please state your relative age."

Again, the wanderer couldn't help but smile to himself.

"Ain't got that, either." He inevitably spoke, raising a hand and propping an elbow on the table as if delicately holding a card between index finger and thumb. "Age implies an end, doesn't it? Also implies a beginning, too."

The officers looked at one another for a moment, apathetic. One resumed his scribbling as the other looked back upon the wanderer.


"State your biological species. If you do not know, a DNA sample will provide the closest approximation."

J-4-X sighed to himself.

"If I don't know it, you folks sure as hell ain't gonna find it on your databases. You can trust me on that." He replied, tone barely turning hostile for a moment before the wanderer leaned back, dipping a hand into the inner pocket of his jacket. Both officers reacted-- in a moment, two pistols were trained upon him, and J-4-X kept deathly still.

"Relax. I'm getting a God-damn pack of smokes."

With a slow withdrawal of the gloved hand, a pack and lighter was withdrawn from beneath the cloth. The tension relaxed. J-4-X let out a chuckle, flicked open the lighter, and lit himself a butt before holding out the pack to the two officers.

They did not react.

"That a no, then?" He muttered, shaking his head and dipping the lighter and pack into his jacket once more. Another tense-up from the guards made him withdraw his hand slowly, again.


"We have already confiscated your firearms-- please state any weaponry for the record."

Image

J-4-X didn't give a chuckle, that time-- he gave a snort.

"Firearms is an overstatement. All I got on me is a piece o'junk, and you took that already, didn't you? It's an old revolver-- like your little ancient ones, ain't it? Eight shots. Shoots bullets, needles, spikes-- anything I got on hand. Make the ammunition myself, since I ain't got the money to buy, half the time."

His gaze shifted from one officer to the next.

"The entire chassis got forged from junk, the barrel's junk, the stock and handle was made outta junk-- it is trash, through and through. Half the time, I gotta rebuild it after emptying a chamber. Can barely fan the hammer without the thing breaking apart in my damn hands, too. Honestly, if y'all wanna keep that damn thing, I'm all for it."

He paused, for a moment.

"On second thought, I still need it. Don't keep it."


"You were detained for illegal scavenging. Please state your occupation for the record."

For once, the wanderer finally showed emotion.

"That's what this whole damn thing is for?" It wasn't, as he'd suspected, an inquiry into his background as a mercenary-- no, he'd been caught scavving in the wrong region. Not that it was even the wrong region, because he had a damn permit for it-- one he promptly took out of his jacket, regardless of the officer's response or reaction, and slammed down on the table.

"I'm a junker, you morons. I got clearance in this sector-- or any sector west of the Andes Junction, for that matter. This system is legal for my craft."

The two officers sighed. The one who kept writing at his damn clipboard finally looked up, eyes narrowed. After a moment, his lips pursed.

"We apologize for the inconvenience--"

"Y'all ain't sorry for a damn thing. Get me out of these cuffs. Now. And get me back to my damn ship."



Image

His ship wasn't quite anything special.

It got the job done-- was a small freighter-class, barely large enough to hold over four people, though it more than made up for crew space in the storage capacity. The rust-bucket could carry about a ton and a half of scrap before its drives started struggling. Came with a magnet and excavation tool for the hard-to-reach areas, and a low-strength repulsion cannon on the front and back to clear any jams around it.

The ship wasn't his crowning jewel, though. A junker wasn't anything without some good junk.

Image

He'd found it while scavenging an old planetside battleground. Truly, the thing was on its last legs-- but a repair job and some modifications brought the old thing back from the brink, in the end, and it remained within the spacious cargo hold of his ship for when he'd inevitably need to use it. Great thing about the junker trade was that patrols rarely searched the hold-- it was, after all, just junk, and when they saw the rusted heap of a mech curled and deactivated in the corner, they always mistook it for another long-forgotten relic.

Just like him, really.

He supposed that was why he held such a fondness for it.

In terms of a specialty or weaponry, the mech seems to have a few kinetic cannons on the wrists and chest, but J-4-X never quite could get the ammunition for it-- not unless he wanted to sell everything he owned. Besides, the thing was meant primarily for hand-to-hand combat, it seemed. The hydraulic guards and heavy armor on the limbs seemed to dictate so. Best thing about that was the customization, really-- a few load-bearing industrial rail spikes he'd found in the vacuum of space were ample enough to get strapped to the knuckles; with that, the thing could cut through just about anything that wasn't upper-military grade.

Of course, he wasn't too keen on fighting armies, in the end, so that's not quite a concern, is it? Not like he'd actually use the damn thing, anyway.

To everyone he met, he was just a simple junker.

--

Theme: Memory

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