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bakerstreet2018-01-30 02:50 am
enginesock) wrote in bakerstreet2018-01-30 02:50 am
what is it good for?
WARNING: Meme will contain TRIGGERS, including war, violence, capture, and general uncomfortable content. Please do not click if you don't want to see, and please respect your fellow role-players.
◊ Post with your character with name and canon.
◊ List any preferences(roles, scenarios, time periods, etc.) you have.
◊ Reply to others! Roll using random.org or choose your prompts.
1) The General/Admiral: You're the head honcho, the guy in charge. You have hundreds, maybe thousands of lives resting on you. What decision will you make?
2) The Officer: Not the leader, but you've got responsibility for your crew. What's your specialty -- independent initiative? Insubordination? Or do you let the noncoms walk all over you?
3) The Soldier: Just an ordinary soldier with your pike, or rifle, or energy gun. Your job is to follow orders. But when it comes down to it, when you look the enemy in the eye -- what will you do?
4) Spy: Dressed in civilian clothes, disguised as an enemy officer. Your job is to get as much information as you can, and then get out. Or are you going to sow a little chaos and destruction along the way?
5) Civilian: This is your land that's being fought over. Do you support a side? Do you hide, or do you hold steady in the face of such violence?
6) Other.
1) Battle: In the middle of the fighting.
2) Downtime/R&R: A few peaceful moments, to spend as you will.
3) Sabotage: Something's gone terribly wrong. A factory blown up, a bridge destroyed, an assassination. What do you do about it?
4) Planning: How do you go about storming that beach?
5) Capture/Rescue: The enemy soldiers have you surrounded. Or maybe you're on a daring mission to break your buddies out of jail.
6) Other.
1) Ancient times: Grab that centurion's helmet, form up into a phalanx, and let's go crush those Gauls and/or Persians!
2) Medieval times: Suit up in your armor, grab a lance and make sure to bring along your squire.
3) Revolutionary times: Basic guns and muskets, very little medical care, and very little tactics. Give the other army a few days to dig in, and they'll hold you off forever.
4) World War I/II: Technology is advancing, and warfare is more sophisticated than ever. Remember the trenches, the skirmishes in cities, the spies and the drama.
5) Modern times: Guerilla warfare, modern tactics, modern technology.
6) The future: Ray guns? Space battles? Let your imagination go wild.
7) Other.
wilhelm winter | unsere mütter, unsere väter/generation war
spock | star trek (aos)
Mitsunari Ishida | Sengoku Basara
Eren Jaeger | Shingeki no Kyojin | M/M
Gauron | Full Metal Panic!
Sam Kincaid | The Damned of the 2/19th
nyxnissa so dasheem | bel dame apocrypha | ota.
soldier, downtime, random setting of UR CHOICE and you get to pick furry or humanized flavor
Today, he's been told to report to a woman called 'Nyx,' who'll apparently be his partner and supervisor on the next task in clearing out this warren of a fortress. Trouble is, he's not having the easiest time finding her. The other hunters he'd asked for direction had just laughed their asses off and said he couldn't possibly miss her, which could mean anything. ]
PROSE BC IM LAZY.
It's all bullshit, of course. Nyx has known that for years. She's seen too many shifters to think anything divine hides in their half-breed blood. And then, when the mercenary company she's working for says they found a shifter stuck between forms, well. She had to see this shit.
It's true, you can't miss Nyx. She's leaning out a window, smoking a sen cigarette and holding a gun almost as big as she is. Scatterguns, the really good ones, are light with tons of settings and a kickback power that'll send an inexperienced hand stumbling meters back. Nyx isn't an inexperienced hand. She looks up to see the dog-faced boy approaching her, and remembers something about Yah Aliym saying she'd get a kick out of today's assignment.
Fuck all.
"You ready to kill some bugs?" She looks him over once more. "Wag twice for yes."
works for me!!!
Claws and triggers don't mix so well.
Nevertheless, his reply is steady and polite. "Yes, Lady Nyxnissa."
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"Nyx," she says, hefting herself up from the lazy lean on the window. She puts the cigarette out on the butt of her gun. "Or Sir or Matron, if you're really that fucking polite."
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While she hasn't prompted him for an introduction himself, he'll give it nonetheless. "I am Fratley. The company has tasked me with providing you with melee support for this assignment." A fact she's probably already aware of, if she recognized him that readily, but he says it anyway.
"We depart on your order, Sir."
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She better be getting a nicer cut than he is.
"You know how to fight, Dogface?" She's never bothered to learn his name. "With the spear, I mean. You're fine for biting people, I bet. But that shit? Takes some specialized training."
She says it with a voice of condescension, like he wouldn't know better.
Zelda | Hyrule Warriors | OTA
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Being around so many soldiers was odd, but at least Link wasn't expected to fight in coordination with 'em, just to run on ahead and take on the heavy hitters. Like dragons. Link fought dragons before. All they needed were several bombs and some arrows for the eyes.
Always go for the eyes.
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Good.
As much as she takes pride in her army, they lack the... oh, she doesn't know how to describe it, the prowess that only a few key figures seem to possess, as if they had been granted a boon to their strength and abilities by the goddesses themselves. Regardless of what the real reason is behind these heroes' abilities being tiers above the rest, Zelda accepts it. They are useful, and ever the utilitarian, Zelda capitalizes on the prospect of one more trump card to add to her ranks.
Of course, no one can deny that Zelda is among them either.
Flinging herself into battle, Link will find that the princess that greets them in this world is able and ready, leaping up into the air and sending a barrage of arrows at the enemies before sprinting towards him. "For your efforts thus far, Hero." She needs not greet them or explain what is going on, because there are things that need to be done, there are dragons to slay, and there is a battle to win. Talk can come later. She tosses them a potion to use in case they need it. The smile she flashes them is confident but not without wear, for she's been fighting for quite a while at this point. "Welcome to our war."
The dragon roars, its spit dripping from its mouth like oil to the ground, and with a click does its breath ignite. Fire pours from its mouth at them without warning, a river of flame painting onto the ground and incinerating other soldiers in its path. The inferno barrels its way towards the two mercilessly. Zelda will split from Link's side to dodge the attack, preparing her rapier.
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At the thrown potion and new voice, Link gawks. Although not the princess they knew, that's clearly a familiar Zelda, one they hadn't seen since their second childhood. In fact, looking around, the battlefield, soldiers, even enemies seem distantly familiar. Could this be the same war Link helped with when smaller?
Regardless, there's a battle to win. The Zelda may not be their Zelda, not like the bright princess hiding her roughness beneath fine cloth, but she commands Link's loyalty still. The dragon predictably breathes flame, and Link wished they had time to change tunics before nimbly hopping to the side, bringing up the ghastly face of their mirrored shield to deflect any sparks before shuffling to the side to analyze the beast for weak points. The usual targets present themselves: eyes, mouth, genitals, joints. The wings look relatively fragile, being lighter skin stretched between bones. Link dashes forward to leap into a Helmsplitter, aiming to tear the wing apart.
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"--Ha!" She shouts at she charges head-on towards the beast, striking once, twice, thrice, before finishing the combo with a heavy attack, blinding it as she carves out its eyes and smashes its teeth.
A wounded monster, however, only makes it more dangerous, and although the dragon is crippled and blind, it can still lash out. With a roar the dragon gathers up the strength to build more fire within its throat, concentrating it, and then spitting it wildly up above them. From there it will rain down, scattering over them like small meteors.
Now it's a matter of dodging, and if luck will allow it, finishing off the beast.
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Battered, crippled, and blinded, the dragon sprays plumes of fire into the sky to rain down on them all. The soldiers retreat while Link puts up their mirror shield, digging through their pack for their hookshot. After the danger of flame is past, Link lines up the hook before catching it on the dragon's skull, using the momentum to force the gilded sword through the brittle eye sockets and into the dragon's skull.
The beast roars its last, gouts of blood landing on Link as they gamely hold on, keeping the blade in place. The dragon spasms once more before laying out on the ground, jarring Link but not unsettling them. Only when the dragon is still does Link pull their sword out of the dragon's skull, wiping the blood and brain tissue off on the grass before sheathing it.
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She would offer a prayer for it, had she the luxury of time. At most she can only offer a few solemn words "May this peace release you from your chains."
But there are things to do, more enemies to slay. One outpost captain jogs up to her, panting and covered in mud and ash, no doubt the dust from his incinerated comrades. He gives her a tired but appropriate salute before relaying a message, at which point the princess nods her head and dismisses him.
"It seems our enemy has employed a nest of dragons, but their puppet master is nowhere to be found," she says to Link, stepping over one outstretched talon of the dragon they’ve just defeated. She doesn’t bat an eye, her voice remaining as calm as a summer breeze even as the battle rages on. "Our survival depends on swiftly taking out each and every one of them."
Since the real one manipulating them is no where to be found, possibly safely miles away from the battlefield, they have not the resources to track the real culprit. While it’s a sad fate, it’s reality, and Zelda faces it a steadfast conviction. "Do I have your sword?"
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This Link is not a knight, not even to a Zelda. Where the soldiers might keep their thoughts to themselves, Link has no similar scruples. Only difficulty with forming words.
"But..." they managed to rasp out, "Kill the source?"
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"No doubt they are hiding among yonder mountains," she replies, indicating with a measured nod to the east. Her expression remains neutral, patient, but her tone indicates that they are pressed. "Were it that you appeared there and not here, then we would be able to abate these dragons' captivity."
She moves past Link, golden hair trailing behind her. No slouch, no stutter, no slip of her tongue indicates that the monarch is troubled by this decision. Her eyes remain upon the battlefield before her, trained towards the sky where one more dragon, wings gossamer and strong, is making their way towards them. She raises her sword to point towards their new foe. "Thus our only option is to eliminate the enemies at present."
And since it seems that Link is faltering in his conviction to fight, the princess will leave them behind. She springs into battle once more, charging forward to attack the grunts.
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"Damage control."
Dragons were likely to be resistant to fire, so Link nocked an arrow and imbued it with ice magic before letting it fly toward the dragon's fine wings.
Hawke | Dragon Age
for Eowyn
And yet they did.
Because they arrived just when morale was flagging, and when the dark lord's armies were celebrating early triumph. The banners that they brought likely meant nothing to most on the battlefield, but to some, they did, and their cries went up, carrying the tidings across the fighting ranks: That the Elves from the days of old had come to Men's aid, the great heroes who had fought Sauron's old master and withstood his might for centuries.
And the tide of the battle had turned.
Sometimes, she thinks as she picks her way through the charred ground of the battle grounds, helping to locate and retrieve their injured and death, it really doesn't take more than a spark of hope. Sometimes a banner is more powerful than a sword.
...She really hopes that she will be able to escape most of the questioning that will inevitably come. Their presence here is rather unexpected and almost unprecendented, after all.
She redirects her steps when she sees someone kneel next to a fallen body. "Ho! Do you need assistance?"
<3 She's dressed as Dernhelm, btw. Not that that's likely to fool Aredhel.
She has no hope for herself as she fights, and wants none; if she can be of some use with a blade and find an honorable death before the end, that will be enough. If she can win glory first and be remembered in song or story, then it will be a little better. Something to leave behind, a fitting legacy for Éowyn, daughter of Éomund, shieldmaiden of Rohan. If she cannot have the life she wished, at least she will have a good death.
And yet, despite these dark wishes, her heart had lifted within her when she heard the roar of wonder and triumph that swelled through the ranks of Men, when the Elves joined them on the field, though she knew not why.
She does her duties as a soldier, which means not only dealing out death with her blade, but also the other tasks of the battlefield. Searching for survivors, retrieving such gear as can be made use of, catching horses who have lost their riders and calming them. It is all done in an exhausted haze, with limbs heavy from wielding sword and shield. She lucky at least in that she has not been injured.
Unlike the poor fellow whose body she has knelt by. She thought he breathed, and perhaps he did, but no longer. Éowyn shakes her head. "No; there is no more that can be done here, I fear."
She says it before she looks up and sees who approaches, and when she does she stops, frozen in astonishment and awe. She has never seen an Elf. To find that tales of their grace, beauty, and majesty understate the truth is stunning.
Sorry about the delay, I was at my parents' and their internet is ...special
But she's also exhausted and battered from the battle and the long, hard ride that brought them here. Not that she shows it, strictly. Being someone who has to project stability and reassurance is too ingrained into her bones, set deeply into her soul since those fateful years on the ice.
Éowyn's reaction doesn't go unnoticed. Outwardly, it doesn't cause much of a reaction, though. There are various ways in which she could deal with the reactions that her presence causes, as a princess, a Noldo, an Elf, or any of the otherthings that she is. She long ago decided that she would want to ignore them.
"The Enemy seems to have made sure that those who went down would not survive."
Her voice is terse. She knows the tactic. Sow dread. Deep down, most warriors - all the sane ones - want to return home, in one piece or not. Survival is a powerful base instinct, both on an individual and a group level.
Eris | Sinbad: Legend of the Seven seas
Saren Arterius | Mass Effect