Moving Stgnant Waters. Order Ranking Challenge To ∞ For Rank EDIT: 4 (Apparently)

[Chromatic]

Battle Type:
Original. Whether it will follow any kind of character based continuum is up to you.

Character Type:
Looking for a gun battle, mostly, with a touch of science fiction/fantasy elements to them. That seems to be right down your alley as it is.

Location:
Chitguaze (Sheet-gwahzay) -
(Resides within a parallel timeline/dimension of Earth, in which both magic, and science once flourished side-by-side (although science ultimately won out the former). Earth, in this timeline, had, at one point, been united under a single government. But the 'Empire' of the planet has fallen into a state of war).

This once stood as a powerful city, resting as a crux point within 'The First Earth Empire', and for sometime, acted as the primary economic hub for said empire. However, when the First Empire collapsed into civil war, the city became a primary site for the political, and military struggles for dominance. After several failed attempts to break the contested state of the city between the Rebellion, and the remains of the old Imperium, the city has finally been reduced to little more than a scar upon the planet. The once bright star, has thus, been violently extinguished in a fury of fire, and such.

In the wake of the most recent battle, the death toll has mounted severely, compared to the previous battles within the city's limits. Hundreds of thousands of dead line the main streets of the city, and only a few islolated pockets of troops exist on either side. The city's damage has also mounted to a nearly unbelievable amount. Few spots are left untouched by fallen debris. Broken, or totaled vehicles of war dot the streets, and alleyways, though some of them may still work to some degree. The current time of day is roughly 7:00 AM, and a thick white fog cover is blanketing most of the cityscape's remains.

Other than that, it shows to be a clear day, weather wise, and the temerpature will vary slightly, depending on what part of the city you happen to be in. This is due to certain places simply the result of fires that have sprung up in some spots.

Conditions:
None, unless you would like to add some to it.

((My character will be up within the next 12 to 24 hours from now (roughly 11:37 Eastern Standard Time)).

 

[Orion]

Re: Moving Stgnant Waters. Order Ranking Challenge To ∞ For Rank #7.

I'll be going with Markus Irallion, since he seems well suited to this battle.

Markus Irallion - KHInsider Roleplaying Wiki

 

[Chromatic]

Re: Moving Stgnant Waters. Order Ranking Challenge To ∞ For Rank #7.

(Finally got it as best as I can. Trying something somewhat new with it. It's somewhat minimalist, but it should do for now).

Name: James L. Hatcher
Age: 19
Gender: Male

Appearance: At first glance, one would never guess that James is as old as he is. The simply boyish nature of his face gives this 19 year old the appearance of someone who has just barely reached his puberty. Such features include that more baby-esque look of his face, having a look of puppy fat cheeks, and the often noted childish sparkle that happens unto his pale blue eyes when the sun touches upon them. As with anyone within the military, James' body is one of top physical form, being well passed what many would be considered the possible human limits, having a physique that could have well been carved from stone by a Greek craftsman. These days, he wears a scruffling mess of middle range hued brown hair, which has grown a little bit out of control since he last had it shaved off for the sake of his military duties. Currently, his face, and some of his body, have been glazed over with dust and blood from the preceding conflict.

Attire: The military standard amongst the Soldiers of the Earth Empire adorns Jame's body, though some of it has been stirpped off with the necessity to move faster. The uniform at its fullest is consisting of a full body suit of armor (similar to what is seen in the Halo series, just not quite as tough. Can't really describe ti too well). The coloring of this armor changes as dictated by the environment that the soldiers wearing it are assigned to. In James' current case, he is wearing a solid gray-blue, to match better with the city setting around him. Given that the armor can be disassembled bit by bit, if need be, James has chosen to abandon all but the most needed segments of he armor, which includes the breast and back plates, covering his torso, guarding it from a fair variety of devices. Also still upon him are the upper arm guards, protecting his biceps and triceps, as well as his shoulders.

The only other remaining parts of his armor are the guards for the upper legs. Abandoned, were the forarm guards, his face mask/helmet, and the guards for his calves, as well as his armored footwear, which has been replaced by a pair of steel-toed boots. At that, the leggings which reamin upon him are being worn over a pair of military issue pants. All of his adornments are wonr underneath a bone colored trench coat. Capping off his warlike appearance is a white bandana, worn "pirate" or "house maid" style.

Personality: The way James acts, and speaks is almost entirely dependant upon the situation that he finds himself in. HIs percieved 'normal' persona, is a head in the skies, but generally 'good kid' sort of guy, who expemlifies the idea of 'Southern Hospitality'. Whether helping out another person with some difficult task, or taking simply giving another a friendly smile, he tends to try very hard t live up to the idea of making everyone happy all that time. But the heat of battle acts as a catalyst for a somplete flop in his demeanor, generally something that may hint to a traumatic stress disorder, or otherwise, be a precourser to e future case of PTSD. From the moment that the first shot is fired, the sound echoing through the field of battle, his calm, friendly nature disintegrates, giving way to a more serious, down to Earth James, having a greater pungent for fighting, and an occassional bout with absolute insanity.

Weapons and Equipment:

Bolt Rifle -
A .75 caliber assualt rifle, which is a rather misleading way of putting it, as the gun is not of te appearance of a rifle, but more of an oversized pistol, or handgun type of weapon, bearing no stock, therefore disallowing the shouldering of the weapon. Unlike other firearms, the ammunition of this one is propelled by both the internal mechanisms of the gun, and perpulsion means built into the bullets themselves. So essentially, the bullets (bullets) operate in a manner that is more similar to rockets. The version that he weilds, however, is even more pistol like than many of the standards, enabling tem to be wielded more efficiently than the others like it. He carries two of them on his person at the moment, and has loaded himself with as much ammunition as he can muster carrying, an ammount he's yet to count, though it he probably carries somewhere around the neigborhood of thirty.

Chainsword -
James' primary close combat weapon, being a combination of a chainsaw, and a sword, albeit lighter in weight, able to be wielded with on hand.

Hormone Tablet -
A modified version the common steroid, being more reserved, and less prone to the addictive, and destructive factors that come with said drug, hormone tablets are a quick acting, short term stimulant, which causes the bodies of those who ingest it to enter a state of rapid hormone productivity. The resulting effect is a temporary, matginal, boost in the physical capabilities of they who have consumed the tablets. It is advised that only one should be taken every twelve hours in battle, and that none should ever be taken while the soldier is at rest.


(Sorry if it seems a bit shotty).





IC:

Another night had seen the merciless slaughtering of hundreds of troops on either side of the conflict, each death mounting up the horifying mountains of bodies which lay lashed out over the city's streets. It wouldn't be long until the scavengers of the animal kingdom found this place, wherein their greatest of feasts would be held out to them on what would be, in their eyes a silver platter. And though it was often asserted that a battle was never over until neither side had any breath to give, no one, whether fighting for the resistance, or The Imperium, was inclined to agree with such a statemnt. There were only a handful of skilled, or lucky soldiers left within the ruins, and only a pinkey's worth of them had any will to keep on fighting.

James, on that note, felt a little bit like both as the morning krept into his refuge.

Whatever gunshots that James could discern through his half-awakeness felt far off, and unthreatening to him, so long as he stayed in the cover of the fallen overpass debris, which formed a group sized cave, leaning up against the ruins of some building with no address. Even with the sunlight starting to inch its way into the manhole entrance to this 'makeshift' hideout, there reamined a lack of visiblity. He had only his memory of the afternoon before to orient his senses. He recalled that fifteen feet in front of him, the wall created by the overpass came down, meeting the ground at an acute angle. Fifty, maybe seventy degrees. To his left, a pile of concrete and steel formed another wall, with no openings to be found. And to his right, was the thirs wall, the one with the hole through which he had entered, and had been trying to dig out for two hours the day before. It was larger than it had been, like a doorway almost.

Though he was still not entirely awake, he knew that staying within his cave all day wold leave him isolated, and open to ambush. One soldier finding him could be his last living memory, unless he spent the day on the move. The sooner I find an ally, the sooner I can get the hell out of here. He pulled himself ont his feet, wobbling slightly as the numbness of his legs faded away, and slipped his hand around in his coat pocket for his 'feel good', as he called it, manifesting from the coat's interior a device the size and shape of a film container. As much as ever, the cap to the case came off easily, too easily, he had once believed. But the prize within was not one that should be kept tightly licked away, not to the one that needed it. Greeting him, was a small cluseter of six plae blue tablets, no larger, and no smaller than his fingernails. He needed only one, which he administered with care, slidding it down his thraot under the guide of his fingers.

When at last, the pill was being digested, he felt more awake than any coffee could have made him. His mental fatigue seemed to vanish on the spot, and his physical sorness saw itself negated. "I'm going out for a bit, Russell," he said to a huddled up mass of a human body, resting next to him at his feet.....