2100 Melee: illustrated

The_high_king

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GODDAMN!!! It certainly has been awhile since I've had anything to do with this forum. How long has it been, three months? a season? a year? I don't know. But the important thing is that I'm back, with a thread idea in hand.

In 2080, a unknown energy swept across the earth, causing mutations in almost every lifeform on earth. These mutations ranged from the smallest of plants too the largest of mammals. These mutations were causing even the smallest of mice too grow almost five times as big, and altered body parts, such as fangs, or extra rows of eyes. After only a few months, these new mutated specimens of life ran rampant across the globe. The creatures were quickly becoming the superior species, and human casaulties were unavoidable.
It seemed that the only animals not affected by the energy were the humans, and a few mammals. The humans fought back with all they had, but the results were undesirable. Guns had little affect on the the reinforced skins of the larger animals, and fire had no affect at all. Nukes were even more useless when they realized that the creatures could breathe it as if it were fresh oxygen. They were running out of ideas.
Finally, a year later, Dr. Sayve, a brilliant scientist, created Fantasium, a new metal that could pierce even the toughest of these mutant hides, and heat weaponry that could cut through these beasts like butter. However, there was only one setback: these inventions were only good for close range. But that didn't stop this scientist.
Using government funding from an all too eager government, he built a tower. From that tower he recruited only the best fencers, kendo masters, modern ninjas, and anybody else who was famous for using something sharp for that matter. In this tower they ate, slept, and trained. They were given speed, and strength boosting equipment. Then finally, in 2090, the weapons were complete. Each recruit in that tower recieved a finely-crafted Fantasium blade, or energy blade compliments of Dr. Sayve. Their jobs have never been so clear too them from that point forward: to slay those mutant mutherfuckers! These brave men and women were dubbed the, 'New Saviours', and they called themeselves, "The Melee Revolution". From there, more of these towers arose, and more 'saviours' were born.

The year is now 2100, ans Dr. Sayve is dead. The fate of the world now depends on you, and your pointy object. It's slay or be slain!

If your wondering why it's called 'Illustrated' is because there will be sketches by me during this story. Nothing big, just a pic of my characters, and a few important events or things. By the way, I expect the same from YOU!:D And, of course, there will be the occasional sex, LOTS of occasional sex, (if your wondering, you don't have too draw sex scenes if you don't want to, I know I'm not).

I'll be starting this thread off soon, so please post your characters, rough sketch of your characters when you feel ready. I'll be posting my character tomorrow. So, if anyone is interested, then PM me, or reply. Goodnight everybody!
 
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Placeholder

ooc: consider this a place-holding post. I'm still rummaging through ideas for my character. Odd, it never took me this long too think of a character before, but have no FEAR!!! I shall post a character soon, and get this thread going! So... check back soon.
 
Haven Alderant

Haven stood in her place as she glanced down at the katana, her favorite sparing weapon. She smirked as many of her opponents thought her to be easily put aside because of her size.

It must be hard to be intimadating when you stand 5' 4" among those half a foot to a foot taller then yourself.

Haven's strawberry kissed hair and grey-blue eyes offset the heartshaped face. Her square shoulders moving down her slender shape that draws her moderate bosom, then her thinning waist and marking off to her hips. (35/26/36) Wearing the soft tans that match the ground that blows across the barren lands that was destroyed by the time.

( I have my brother-in-law working on that sketch as I have all thumbs to that matter)
 
Michael "Iceman" Casey

He is the one that rarely talks, prefering silence and solitude of his own company over the hubbub of the mess hall. A man of few words, completely devoted to his duty, living only to fight and perfect his abilities. Always taking place in the back row, standing at the end of the line, sitting cross-legged in the corner of the training hall.

They rarely see him talk, ask a question or speak more than a sentence a day. Not much is known about this man. But those who happened to come into his room leave shaken to the innermost parts of their souls. For his room is as silent as its owner: a lonely bed, desk and chair, a sink and a single photograph pinned to the wall. In the photo a family standing in a sunlit garden: a smiling mother, a handsome father, a bored dark-haired teenager holding his little sister's hand. At the father's leg sits a golden retriever, also smiling its dogsmile to the camera.

So he sits there in the corner, carefully checking his gear, seemingly oblivious to curious glances cast at him. His green eyes thoughtful, never a smile chancing upon his thin lips, clean-shaven with a mess of black hair he stands 5'7'', slim and agile.

[Sorry, you'll get no drawing from me at this time. I can't draw at all and moreover don't have a scanner at hand. Picture Andy Garcia in "Things to do in Denver when you're dead" and you have the overall idea of this character. Maybe someone else would like to make a picture?]
 
Vincent Zeeks aka Sleek

ooc: thanks for joining guys, I was getting desperate :D

ic: He stood in the training hall, in front of a virtual training beast. The fake mutant monkey screeched, and moved around in a chaotic manner, being very unpredictable. A few seconds later, the monkey finally made an attack, and Vincent still stood his ground, rapier still holstered, but in hand. The monkey took a small dash, then lept at his face, claws furiously moving towards the face. Vincent still hasn't appeared to move. After the furious leap, the monkey landed and stopped. The top half of the monkey slowly slid off the bottom half, diagonally. The truth is, within a second that the monkey lept, Vincent did move. He simply leaned to his left, and his sword lashed out like lightning, then was holstered again as if it didn't happen. That's why they call him Sleek.

A healthy character, Sleek was. Nicely built, and extremely agile. He stood at 6", dark brown eyes that made his eyes look like shadows. Serious looking yes, but serious mannered, not quite. He had a positive yet, asshole-esque attitude. In fact, a lot of people at the tower were walking zombies, compared too this ray of sun- not sunshine, a ray of something, but definitly not sunshine.

ooc: I'll see what I can conjure up, for a picture of Iceman.
 
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Iceman Drawing

ooc: here's what I think your "Iceman" looks like, (in my head anyway), Poganin. What do you think? Will this be acceptable? Is it missing anything?
 
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OOC:
Hey, it's great, thanks! Only the hair should be dark and it would be perfect. Thanks a million for this.
 
ooc: no problem. I'll fix that hair thing. Everyone, seems too be in seperate rooms right now. I'll fix that, my character will join Iceman in the mess hall soon.

ic: After some time in that training room, Vincent wiped the sweat off his forehead with a towel, then proceeded to the mess hall for some grub. He walked in like he usually does, looking for people he knew, scopeing out the atmosphere, eyeing the chicks. He spotted the, 'Iceman', then gulped. The two were recently assigned together for a routine patrol, when things went... messy. It's not that anyone died, it's just that someone could have died.

Vincent grabbed a plate of food, then sat in front of Iceman. By the look in Iceman's eyes, Vincent could tell he was still pissed. Finally, a guilt-filled Vincent broke the silence, "it wasn't my fault you know". Iceman was still obviously pissed and silent, and Vincent ate a bit of his food. "Okay, I admit, a mutated squirrel almost took your nuts off, but it's not COMPLETELY my fault. I mean, all I wanted too do was jar it... and yes, I used you as bait, I'm sorry... and yes, the jarring was a little off... and yes, the squirrel got away, and ran straight towards your nuts, I'm extremely sorry about that. But look on the bright side... I mean, it did miss your nut, and bit your inner thigh instead right? And YES, you did suffer from hours of pain. So okay, I'm an asshole for doing that, I know. But you can't blame the whole thing on me right? I mean, you did volunteer to be bait. You know, several years from now, you can just look back on that day and laugh".

Vincent smiled widely, hopeing the Iceman would accept his apology. Yes, that Vincent, what a ray of... something.
 
Michael "Iceman" Casey

No, Iceman didn't blame Vincent for the accident, he didn't blame himself either. In fact, Iceman didn't care at all. He just sat there in silence trying to feel the dull scream of his thigh through the muting chant of painkillers that clouded his mind and made his vision hazy. So he just ate, letting Vincent babble on, paying little attention to his words.

The truth was, Michael was hoping to die. In pain or in bed, it didn't matter. He knew that his death would be painful, so what was the squirrel's bite into his thigh compared to the pain of his dying when it finally came? There would be lots of pain... that would be his atonement.

"Whatever" he just whispered getting up from the table and grabbing the crutch procured in the infirmary. He left the empty tray on the table and limped towards the exit from the mess hall. Leaving Vincent and the noises behind.
 
Sleek

When Iceman left, Sleek slammed his fork on the table, and followed after him. He always viewed Iceman like some mystic samurai, always trying to seek death on the battlefield, aka a suicidal dumbass. "God dammit man! You can't keep doing this to yourself!", he shouted as he caught up to him. Seeing him with the crutch, made Sleek even more dissapointed, "and why do always have to carry that primitive handicap thing anyways? You know the doctors can take care of that in a jiffy. Why the crutch? Why the painkillers? Just go to a doctor, get your leg properly healed, it won't take long. I mean, for goodness sake, you still use bandages, BANDAGES! What the hell is wrong with you anyway? You got a death wish or something? girlfriend dumped you? What?". Sleek hoped that Iceman would just turn around and talk to him for once. He understood how anyone could feel suicidal after having their nuts almost torn off.
 
Iceman

Michael regarded Vincent as he caught up to him in the corridor. Slowly shambling and making a steady rhythm with his crutch he proceeded relentlessly towards his quarters. He always thought Vincent to be a noisy poser, a good fighter nonetheless, with an attitude problem however. Michael didn't mind, as long as Sleek did not endanger anyone's life in the field... Well, except his own, Michael's that is. Iceman would not see anyone die a stupid death because of their own or someone else's recklessness. That was why he applied in the command to be paired with Sleek -- so that he doesn't cause any unncessary death to anyone, be it a civilian or a fighter. Again, he paid little attention to Sleek's words, caring not for the guy's opinion about him.

And the thumping pain was a welcome change to his dull life of vengeance and atonement. It was... something different. Something to be pondered upon. That was why he didn't ask the doctors to make his leg whole from the very beginning. Feeling unexpected physical pain filled him with such reverie that he was left speechless (well, not that he was really talkative anyway). The pain as his thigh was pierced by the squirrel's sharp teeth was so new that he couldn't help but think about this aspect of his corporality. Somehow it made him feel alive again.

Iceman lifted his gaze and looked Sleek right into his eyes.

"You talk too damn much," he muttered.
 
Sleek

His words, and eyes froze Sleek on the spot. Micheal was always able to shut a lot of people up by a simple glare, and sentence. It was a like some weird super power that he used more around the tower, then he used in the battlefield. Vincent decided to give up on Micheal, "whatever... see you around Iceman", then left him alone. He turned to look out the tower window. Outside the tower, beyond the almost barren landscape, he saw larger then life plants, a sunset, and odd flying mutants, going above the clouds, higher than any regular bird can go. Nearby the tower was a cliff edge, and a waterfall. He also saw people, going about their business, loading and unloading cargo, and going and coming back from patrols, and hunts. He whispered to himself, "so... this was the end of the world.... not bad", then went his seperate way.

ooc: two people isn't enough too do a thread like this people. Especially when their both guys. We simply need more joiners. Four to five, minimum, that's all I beg of.
 
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ooc:I just had to post something. Finding my thread on the 3rd page scares me. It chills me to the bone. By the way, I'm trying to do a pic of the actual tower right now, and new joiners are MORE than welcome.
 
By the way, I'm trying to do a pic of the actual tower right now, and new joiners are MORE than welcome.

OOC-Okay, how about a warrior who goes about in kabuki garb? S.
 
ooc: lol, Kabuki Klash huh? Alright with me, but make the sure this garb of yours is futuristic. Maybe his weapon is a pike of sorts?
 
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OOC- George "Komuso" Ikeda

In appearance a lithe Eurasian man with close cropped hair, Komuso chooses to wear colorful garb and face paint in combat. (A carryover from his youthful training in traditional Japanese arts.) He has incorporated certain modern elements into his battle wear, but still maintains the odd appearance.

George is in his forties and remembers the times before the creatures, when he was going through his training in combat skills and operatic dance. He has proven gifted with a naginata, and incorporates the polearm's use into a dance-like kata. In addition, he uses lesser props and pyrotechnics as distractions in tight situations.

Still working on the picture.
 
ooc: very VERY original stalwartone, glad you could join. Now, if only a female would join, then we would have something going for this thread.
 
Komuso

Taking a deep breath, Komuso stepped into First Ready position, the long handled naginata held before him, it's blade almost hidden from his line of sight by the decorative fringes and cords at the joining of the blade and shaft. He narrowed his eyes, and readied himself.

Across the arena, two of the facility's training robots prepared themselves. One was fashioned into a crude imitation of a canine, one of nearly bovine proportions, and sporting superfluous legs and tail. It's mouth cavity also exposed tusks, ones that dripped a smoking acidic liquid. The second monstrosity was in the form of an ape, but with flowing green eyes and six inch claws jutting from the fingertips. Both "creatures" made roaring sounds, and gnashed their teeth, eliciting metallic squeals. Then, following their programming, they charged, the lupine thing rearing up to trundle across the room on it's rear legs, and the ape dropping to rush in a spiderlike motion.

Komuso slipped into Seventh Defensive, his forward hand reversing it's grip, his off hand slipping into the ornate sash encircling his specially designed body armor. The wolf reached him first, and a deft rotation of his hand and shoulder brought the tip of his blade in under it's near arm, then corkscrewed around, the shaft rotating down and around to catch the ape under the chin, causing it to snap it's jaws shut. The thin assembly of ribbing and modified thermal paper in his off hand snapped open into a decorative fan. Lashing forward, he sank the outer tips of the ribbing into the "flesh" of the ape's face, then released the fan, it's material blinding the creation. As the ape began clawing at itself, Komuso was free to concentrate on the wolf.

Slapping his hands back into position on the shaft, Komuso reared back, dropping the blunt end of his weapon to the ground, then shifted his body to apply leverage. The blade caught between metallic ribs, and Komuso began steadily lifting the creature off of the ground. It's legs fought for purchase, then fought to grip at him. One toe caught on a buckle of his armor, then the tails lashed around to wrap themselves around his arms. His protective armlets, kept the abrasive underlayer of the tails from shredding his skin, and he chose to follow the angle of attack. Kicking off the ground, he kept the shaft set, but spun under the doglike being. Locking his legs around it's neck, he began steadily pulling, driving the polearm's blade deeper into the monstrosity's chest cavity. A carefully timed shaking of his legs caused the blade to tear and rend. Hot fluids cascaded down from the construct, and it's cries changed in pitch and volume.

Komuso's other concern, however, was pulling itself free from the blinding fan. He knew he had only seconds, and made the most of them. Tearing the naginata free from it's target, he kicked out, dancing away in a series of dancelike rolls. The ape bounded over the convulsing wolf, the nearer tusk tearing a final cut across it's skin, and then it was upon him. Unfortunately for it, he had started the Dance of the Seven Cherry Blossoms, and the blade was forming a spinning shield. One of the ape's arms was severed above the elbow, a foot lost two toes, and then the throat was sliced neatly open, sparks flying from the machanical spinal column as the internals were destroyed. The creature crashed to a final stop as he found and held the Supine Buddha pose.

After a minute, he stood, and brushed futilely at the viscous fluids that coated his multilayered armor. He'd have to spent some time cleaning it, but it beat the alternative. Some of the creatures out there had really nasty body fluids. With a sigh, he reached to his scalp, and slipped a finger under the adhesive that held his shock orange wig in place. It parted with reluctance, and he pulled the wig away, then swiped at the mild irritation where his face paint coated his skin.

"Well, at least the creatures are getting more interesting."
 
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